Page 19 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
“Here’s one,” Mrs. Lin said triumphantly, thrusting the phone toward Camille’s face. Pulling back a little so she didn’t get smacked in the nose, Camille peered at the screen. The picture was indeed a man, standing by her workshop door.
“That’s Ryan Springfield,” she said, taking her seat again, feeling a little disappointed in the anticlimax. For a second, Camille had almost thought that Mrs. Lin would have evidence proving that Camille’s life was just a touch more fascinating than it actually was. Ryan Springfield’s visit, however, was not the least bit interesting. “He sold me some barn wood.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?” Mrs. Lin said archly, her eyes on her phone as she flipped through pictures.
“Is that what I’m calling him selling me barn wood?” Camille was confused again.
Instead of answering, Mrs. Lin thrust the phone toward her, screen out. “You invited him in.”
Camille glanced at the picture of Ryan stepping into the shop, and she thought how strange it was that her neighbor had been taking pictures of this banal meeting. If Camille had known at the time that she and Ryan were being photographed, it might’ve made the whole affair more interesting. After considering that for a moment, she gave a small shake of her head. All knowing would’ve done was make her more self-conscious.
She realized that while she’d been silently lost in her thoughts, Mrs. Lin had been waiting for an answer. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Sitting back in her chair, Camille took a sip, making a face when she realized her tea was lukewarm. “Should I have made him stand in the open doorway while we talked? My workshop’s heated. That would’ve been a waste of energy.”
With another one of her expressive huffs, Mrs. Lin began swiping through the pictures on her phone again. “You’re being intentionally obtuse. It wouldn’t have taken thirty-seven minutes for Ryan Springfield to sell you some barn wood. That’s a ridiculous excuse, anyway. What would you evendowith barn wood? You barely have a yard, much less room for a barn.”
Camille couldn’t decide which completely insane point to argue first. “You timed us? Why?”
Peering at her over the top of her reading glasses, Mrs. Lin said, “Well, someone needs to pay attention to what shenanigans go on in this neighborhood. I promised your grandmother that I’d watch out for you after she was gone, and she would not have approved of this at all.” She waved her phone at Camille as if exhibiting evidence. “What aboutthisman?”
This time, Camille didn’t bother to get up and move behind Mrs. Lin to see the picture. Instead, she just leaned forward and squinted at the screen. As soon as she recognized the subject of the photo, she sat back to sip her now-cold tea. “That’s the mailman.”
“We don’t have a mailman,” Mrs. Lin said in agotchatone. “The very female Gloria Hunn delivers our mail.”
The urge to laugh built up inside Camille again. “Gloria has to have an occasional day off. He’s got to be her temporary replacement.” By the way Mrs. Lin’s mouth puckered, Camille got the impression that she didn’t like that very reasonable explanation, and an amused snort escaped. “He’s in uniform! Did you think I got a stripper-gram?”
From the judgmental look Mrs. Lin gave her, it seemed that a stripper-gram was more likely to her than a postal worker needing a vacation. “Well, you do seem to…enjoy a man in uniform,” Ms. Lin said, holding out her phone again.
Camille leaned across the table. “What is that? It’s too dark to see anything.”
“Come closer,” Mrs. Lin demanded. Repressing the urge to roll her eyes, Camille took up her earlier position behind her neighbor and peered at the phone. The picture had obviously been taken at night, but now she could make out the shape of a person standing by her front door. The brightest parts of the photo were what appeared to be reflective strips on the heavy coat.
“Who is that?” Camille asked, reaching to zoom in.
“A fireman, judging by what he’s wearing,” Mrs. Lin said. “Yet another man, standing on your porch.”
Although she racked her brain, Camille couldn’t recall anyone coming to her front door after dark, especially not a firefighter. She definitely would’ve remembered that. “When did you take this?”
“Just a few days ago.” Mrs. Lin sounded triumphant that she’d managed to finally catch Camille’s attention.
“Huh.” For the last month, she’d been working in her shop until late, so maybe she’d missed the knock. Why would a fireman show up on her porch, though? Her brain immediately went to Steve Springfield, but she dismissed that option as wishful thinking. “Who is it?”
“There wasn’t enough light to make out his face,” Mrs. Lin said, disappointed. “With that bulky coat on, he could be any one of the Borne firefighters—except for Rose Marie Mackenzie, of course.” She tilted her phone to get a better look at the photo. “She’s just an itty-bitty thing. Stubborn as all get-out, though. I always said she only wanted to become a firefighter because someone told her she couldn’t.”
“Or she just wanted to be a firefighter, so she did that, despite what anyone else said,” Camille said absently, her eyes still on the photo. “You’re right, though. That’s not Rose Marie.” There was something eerie about the figure, the hulking form silhouetted against the familiar shape of her front door. It was dark enough that everything except the distinctive reflective strips was in shadow, making the figure look menacing. Camille repressed a shiver. “Maybe someone stopped by to sell tickets to their annual fund-raising dinner.” That had to be what it was…right?
“Ten months before the event?” Mrs. Lin responded doubtfully. “Don’t try to spin this, missy. Dr. Beacon always says—”
“—admitting I have a man problem is the first step. Right.” She knew she was going to get scolded for not taking Mrs. Lin seriously enough, but her attention was still focused on the photo. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. As she’d told Mrs. Lin, he’d probably been fund-raising or checking to make sure she had batteries in her smoke alarms or to let her know about a meth lab in the area orsomethinginnocuous—well, as innocuous as a meth lab could be. For whatever reason, though, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from that dark picture.
“Don’t be flippant.” Mrs. Lin’s reprimand sounded half-hearted, and Camille wondered if her neighbor had felt the same shiver going down her spine.
“Did I answer the door?” Camille asked, knowing that she hadn’t, but needing to ask. After all, Mrs. Lin had a picture of some random firefighter standing on her porch at night. Maybe she also had a photo on that phone of Camille opening the door to him.
“No.” Mrs. Lin sounded disappointed, but Camille was hugely relieved. She’d started doubting reality for a moment. “Not that time.”
“Not that time?” The words jerked Camille out of her contemplation of the dark, eerie picture. “There was no other time.” Mrs. Lin raised one overplucked eyebrow, and Camille amended her statement. “Fine, I let Ryan in, but that was an energy-saving issue, and absolutely nothing scandalous happened.” When Mrs. Lin just pursed her lips again, Camille returned to her seat and rebelliously grabbed a sugar cookie from the tin. “Was that it? Any other men?”
