Page 24 of No Business Like Snow Business

“Oh,” I said again. “Sure. Well, I’m actually really busy this week with a research project, but you could stop by anytime and Martha could help you out.”

Steven sighed the way he always did when he thought I was being stupid. “You’re the face of the museum, Harvey, not Martha.”

“If anyone’s the face of the museum, it’s the horrifying mechanical Santa,” I said.

Steven didn’t even crack a smile. “Are you going to be there tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I said. “Probably.”

“Good.” Steven narrowed his eyes at me, and then showed Sterling a tight smile. “I’m Steven Fanning, a friend of Harvey’s. Since he apparently isn’t going to introduce us.”

“Sterling Van Ruyven,” Sterling said. They shook hands like this wasn’t the sort of excruciatingly awkward moment that would wake me in a sweat in the middle of the night for years to come. “Also a friend of Harvey’s.”

And now it was even more awkward.

We all stared at each other silently, and then did it some more.

“Okay!” I exclaimed at last. “See you tomorrow, Steven!”

I took Sterling by the hand and dragged him out of the park. And if he gripped my hand warmly, linking our fingers together and squeezing, it was probably just for Steven’s benefit and not mine.

seven

STERLING

When we walked back to where we’d left the car parked on the side of the street outside the museum, Harvey was acting weird. Weirdness seemed like Harvey’s default setting, but this was a new sort of weirdness. This wasn’t a ‘tell someone you’ve just met about your Trixie Belden obsession’ weirdness. This was Harvey being overly bright and perky, pointing out Christmas decorations as we passed and chatting animatedly about the history of Christmas Falls, and being six hundred percent invested in everything except making eye contact with me.

“Harvey,” I said, “Can we talk about it?”

“I don’t think we need to talk about it. Oh, see that graffiti there? That’s got an interesting story. Last year?—”

“Harvey. Come on. I don’t know if I need to apologize or?—”

“My phone!” he exclaimed suddenly, and pulled it out of his coat pocket to answer. “Hello?” His fake smile vanished, replaced by a more honest expression of delight, and his eyes widened. “Oh, hi. No, it’s not about the heating at the museum. I think the dead raccoon was a one-time thing. Well, I hope it was. I’m actually doing a local history research project, and I washoping I could come and see you and ask you some questions about working for Blitzen’s back in the day.”

Travis Jones.

I listened avidly to Harvey’s side of the conversation with the man who was very possibly Cap Guy from Freddy’s photograph. I couldn’t make out anything except the faint timbre of Travis Jones’s voice. It sounded warm and friendly, which made Travis Jones just like everyone else I’d met so far in town, with the exception of Steven. And in all fairness to Steven, I’d made a hell of a confronting first impression.

“Okay,” Harvey said when he ended the call. His eyes were bright with anticipation, which helped settle the sudden and inexplicable nervousness that fluttered in my gut. “That was Travis Jones. He’s working over on the west side of town, but he said we can come and talk to him there if we want.”

“Okay,” I agreed, and drew a deep breath.

I didn’t know why I was so nervous. Was it just because this was what felt like our first solid lead? If Travis Jones was Cap Guy, then he’d known Freddy and might be able to tell us what had happened to him. That was the whole reason I was here, after all—to find out where Freddy was and circumvent any potential issues with my father’s inheritance. I’d spent my entire life knowing the family’s business empire would one day be mine to run. That was all this was, right? Business? Except there was Freddy, with his arm around another boy, and I’d made the same assumption Harvey had when I’d showed it to him: that Freddy was gay, and he’d run away to find some happiness. And just like that, it was about more than business. In a very uncomfortable way, one I didn’t want to examine too closely, it was aboutme.

I had a feeling Harvey knew it too.

Was that why I’d kissed him? He was cute as hell, but he was also warm and kind and fun, and I liked him. I felt about as sophisticated as a tween with their first awkward crush—allconfusing big emotions and no way to express them—but Ilikedhim and so I’d kissed him.

“Okay,” Harvey said, and just when I was wondering if we were going to keep saying ‘okay’ to each other all day, he tugged his car keys out of his coat pocket. “Let’s roll. I’m Trixie, and you’re Honey.”

“What? Can’t I at least be Jim?”

Harvey gasped. “You said you were a Nancy Drew fan! But you remember Honey’s brother’s name?”

“Adopted brother,” I said. And Trixie’s love interest, which had no bearing on why I’d wanted to be Jim to Harvey’s Trixie. None at all. “And I downloaded one last night.”

Harvey’s burst of laughter carried us all the way to the car.

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