Lana:

I’m oddly nervous about meeting Elvira Grantham, and I know why. It’s because I’m getting attached to Blake and Declan. Blake dotes on his great-aunt, and I want to make a good impression.

I told you so, Sensible-Lana says snidely. You’re not cut out for vacation flings.

However, I have no reason to worry. Elvira Grantham smiles warmly when she sees me and immediately puts me at ease. “I’ve always wanted to be a writer,” she exclaims as I get into Blake’s jeep. “Blake tells me you write cozy mysteries. I’m addicted to them, dear. Would I have read your book?”

Not likely, since I’m lying through my teeth about my cover story. “I doubt it,” I say, blushing. “My first book sold just enough for my publisher to offer me an advance on the next one, but I didn’t exactly light the world on fire. If this one doesn’t sell better, I’ll have to find another job.”

Finding another job has been in my thoughts all week, but I have no idea why I blurted that out to Elvira.

Blake looks at me through his rear-view mirror. “What kind of job would you look for?” he asks.

Stop talking, Lana. You’re weaving one hell of a tangled web. “I’m not sure,” I say evasively. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought. Right now, I’m hoping this book sells well enough that I don’t have to worry about it.”

I remember my half-formed plan about writing a feature story about Ms. Grantham’s life and selling to Hailey’s magazine. How do I bring it up?

“Have you ever thought about journalism, Lana?” Elvira Grantham asks me.

My heart stops. Have I blown my cover somehow? Keep bluffing, Lana. “Umm, not really,” I stammer. “Why?”

“Well, Connor Perkins is retiring,” she says. “He runs the area weekly paper. I know he’s been looking for someone to take over for months, but he’s having no luck. Connor writes some articles, but the paper’s a local. It mostly covers area happenings.” Her expression brightens. “In fact, Connor will probably be at the fair. I’ll introduce you to him if you’d like.”

“I’d love that,” I reply impulsively. Then I kick myself inwardly. What am I thinking? I’m a journalist; I’m here to write a story. I can’t talk to Connor Perkins, and I can’t expose my cover. If the sleazy doctors get wind of my presence, I might as well kiss my exposé goodbye.

* * *

Blake:

We walk around the fair, but though on the surface, I’m paying attention to the attractions, the rides, the quilts, the mutant vegetables, and the sand sculptures, I can’t seem to take my eyes off Lana.

“You’re staring at her,” Aunt Elvira says to me as I watch Declan and Lana take turns at throwing darts at balloons in an effort to win a massive stuffed cat.

“Who?”

I don’t know why I even bother trying to deflect Aunt Lana. Bloodhounds look like they’re asleep on the job compared to my great-aunt. She just rolls her eyes at me. “Is she Declan’s girlfriend?”

“No.” I take a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”

“So you’re both sleeping with her.”

My head jerks up. “How do you do that?” I ask. “Does reading every Agatha Christie book make you a detective of some kind?”

She chuckles. “You’re both looking at her the same way. And despite what you think, Blake, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

I give her a sidelong glance. “And?”

“And what?” she asks blandly. “Lana seems nice. When are you bringing her over for dinner?”

I put my arm around her shoulder. “You’re pretty awesome, Aunt Elvira,” I tell her.

She smiles smugly. “I know, dear.”

After a day at the fair, we head back home. We drop Aunt Elvira off and then head back to the Nanny Goat. “Umm, what are you guys doing this evening?” Lana asks us. “Do you want to come up for a drink?”

Declan’s lips twist into a grin. “Why Lana, are you inviting the two of us up to your room?” he asks. “Anxious to scratch another item off your list?”

She flushes. “If you don’t want to…” Her voice trails off.

“We want to.” I smile at her. “We have a present for you.”

“A present? What is it?”

“Come upstairs, and we’ll show you.”