to get involved, that she would take care of it herself. Still, Emily hadn’t been able to solve the puzzle by herself—perhaps now she should accept the offer.
“What do you have in mind?” Emily stared seriously into Isabel’s eyes.
“See, I knew you’d come around. I could see it in those blue eyes—”
“They’re green,” Camille interrupted.
“They’re both,” Isabel corrected. “Anyway, I have a friend who just retired after thirty-five years with the FBI. He’s living over in Boise and he may have some contacts that could identify the woman. If I can give him a copy of that photo you found, the one with Evan and the woman, he may be able to find something out about Evan’s past life for you.”
“Assuming Evan Parker was his real name,” Emily added.
“Whatever his name was, my friend may be able to dig something up.”
“What do you have to lose, Em?” Camille encouraged.
“Okay, I’ll scan the photo and email it to you, Isabel. Then you can forward it to your FBI friend.”
“Retired FBI friend,” she corrected.
“So, what’s your retired friend’s name?” Emily questioned. “That is, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“No,” she waved her hand. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Isabel said it with a straight face, but then she snickered and Emily and Camille laughed, too. “Let’s just call him Jethro.”
“What are you girls laughing about?” Jonathan asked from the other end of the table. He and Alex gawked suspiciously at the women.
“Just girl talk.” Emily flashed a quick smile to her girlfriends. “Hey, I heard there was a pie baking contest somewhere around here.” She changed the subject and rose to her feet. “And afterwards, they’re selling the entries. Tell me. Who’s ready for pie?”
~*~
Emily and her friends had a ritual of meeting together on Thursday nights for a potluck dinner at one of their homes—girls only. This Thursday it was Emily’s turn to host the dinner and the theme was Italian. Since Emily was the worst cook of the four of them, she decided her contribution would be a big green salad and fresh sourdough bread from the local bakery.
She was setting the table for dinner when her cell phone rang. A big smile spread across her face and her heart began to beat a little faster when she saw it was Colin.
“Hello.” She answered in her sweetest tone—the one she reserved for Colin.
“Hi, Emily. I’ve missed hearing your voice,” he said.
She missed hearing his, too. It always reminded her of warm, dark chocolate—smooth, sweet, and sensual. “Me too. How’s your dad?”
“He’s doing better, but Mom’s not able to take care of him all on her own yet.”
“Any idea when you’ll be back?” Soon, she hoped.
“No, but I’m as anxious to come back to Paradise Valley as you are to have me.” He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Me. I can’t believe I’m actually missing that small town. I never thought I’d say that.”
Colin had been a San Francisco policeman, then a detective there. He loved the big city—until his fiancée was killed. He had taken the job in the small picturesque town of Paradise Valley to escape her memory. That’s when he and Emily met, and when, according to him, he was captivated by her.
“I thought it was me you were anxious to return to, not this town,” Emily replied, feeling a little deflated.
“Absolutely—but I do have to admit that I was becoming attached to that place and the people in it. Before you know it, I’ll be back.”
“You better be, mister. I’ll admit it. I’m so lonely for you I can hardly stand it.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I feel the same way.”
“Oh you do, huh?”
“Yes, I do.” Colin cleared his throat. “Emily, I—”
Emily’s attention was jerked away. “Knock, knock! Where are you, Emily?”
Camille and Isabel entered the house, calling for their host.
“I’m back here!” Emily shouted from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Colin, the girls are here for our weekly girls’ night. You were saying something?”
“Well, I was but…you go have fun with the girls.”
“All right, Colin. Let’s talk again soon. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too—love you.” He quickly hung up, leaving Emily staring at her phone.
What? Did he just say he loved me?
There had always been a mutual attraction, a strong desire to be together, but neither of them had ventured into the deep waters of “I love you” yet. Before she had time to decide if she’d been hearing things or not, Camille and Isabel strolled into the kitchen.