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  Autumn rose to accept his gesture. His hand was rough in hers. A workingman’s hands at odds with his power broker image.

  She gave him a real smile. “Thank you, Montgomery. I wish you continued success with your empire.”

  Rita stood with them. Her startled pale brown gaze swung from Autumn and settled on Montgomery. “What about me?”

  Montgomery shrugged into his coat. “This was an all-or-nothing proposition, Rita. Autumn’s unwilling to sell her share of the business. I’m going to respect her wishes.”

  “The only way I’d sell is over my dead body.” Autumn moved to escort Montgomery from her office. She paused at the expression in Rita’s normally bright brown eyes. Her fixated stare was dark with anger. “I’m willing to buy you out, Rita.”

  “It’s not enough.” The other woman’s voice was barely audible, but Autumn caught what she’d said—and what she’d left unsaid.

  A chill chased down her spine. In that moment, Autumn knew Rita wouldn’t be opposed to her dropping dead.

  Chapter 2

  Sister Lou reversed her orange compact sedan out of its space in the Briar Coast Cabin Resort’s parking lot. The main cabin, which she and Sister Marianna had just left, was reflected in her rearview mirror as she drove away.

  “There’s a lot of tension between Autumn, her business partner, and their associate.” She hadn’t meant to make the observation out loud.

  There was a rustling sound as Sister Marianna shifted on the passenger seat to face her. “Will it affect our planning for the Advent retreat?”

  “I don’t think so.” Sister Lou navigated out of the lot and onto the main road.

  “Then it’s none of our business.” The rustling sound returned as Sister Marianna shifted on her seat again, this time away from Sister Lou. “And can you possibly slow down, Louise?”

  “Of course.” Sister Lou eased up on the accelerator.

  She hadn’t imagined the tension. It was as real as the conflict between Sister Marianna and Autumn, but Sister Marianna was right. They shouldn’t let it distract them from their retreat planning.

  The resort was impressive. Autumn had given Sister Lou and Sister Marianna an extensive tour during their first in-person meeting. The walking trails were picturesque and lush. With the late-fall colors, the property looked like a Thanksgiving invitation. She could only imagine that the scenery would resemble a Christmas card in the winter.

  “Today’s meeting wasn’t as productive as it could have been.” Sister Lou pointed her little car south, back to the offices of the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Hermione of Ephesus. “We spent more time on the menu plan than I thought we would.”

  “We wouldn’t have if that account manager hadn’t tried to tell us how to run our own retreat.” The snap in Sister Marianna’s voice reverberated around the car’s interior.

  Sister Lou glanced at Sister Marianna before returning her attention to the sparse midmorning traffic on this final Thursday in October. “Autumn isn’t the resort’s account manager. She’s the owner, and she was trying to be helpful.”

  Referring to Autumn as an account manager was the kind of strategic tactic Sister Marianna sometimes used to minimize her adversary’s position.

  “Well, she failed.” Sister Marianna sniffed as she adjusted her teal scarf around her neck. “If she was trying to be helpful, she would have accepted my decision when I declined her advice, then we would have made it through every item on our meeting agenda. Instead, it’s her fault that our project has been delayed.”

  “It’ll be helpful to get feedback on the menu from the rest of the congregation. We should’ve thought of that earlier.” Feedback and menu. Sister Lou enjoyed her pun. Sadly, her efforts were lost on Sister Marianna. The other woman had no discernable sense of humor.

  “You mean I should have thought of that sooner.” Sister Marianna’s tone sharpened at the implied insult.

  My dearest Marianna, why must every word out of everyone else’s mouth elicit a combative response from you? Surely, in a previous life, you were a champion pugilist.

  Sister Lou smiled at the image of Sister Marianna as a mixed martial arts fighter. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Of course you did. I’d been planning this retreat by myself for weeks before Barbara insisted you work with me. If you weren’t referring to me, then to whom were you referring?”

  Sister Lou had no idea why the congregation’s prioress, Sister Barbara Yates, had asked her to assist Sister Marianna with the retreat. She and Sister Marianna weren’t exactly on favorable terms. But when the prioress had sought her help with the project, it had seemed ungracious to say no.

  And it had seemed like such a reasonable request . . .

  Sister Lou turned left onto Town Street. “I literally meant we. We’re working on this project together.”

  “There you go again, playing the role of peacemaker, first at the resort and now here.”

  “Blessed are the peacemakers, Marianna. They shall be called the children of God.” Sister Lou took pleasure in paraphrasing one of the beatitudes from the Gospel of St. Matthew.

  Sister Marianna sighed. “You can’t always run from confrontations under the guise of being a peacemaker. Sometimes you have to take a stand. You know what they say: if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for everything.”

  “I may not chase after confrontations.” The way you do. “But I do stand for what I believe in.”

  “Like what?”

  “I took a stand when I investigated Maurice’s murder.” Sister Lou grew somber at the memory of her friend’s tragic death barely a month ago. In the distance, she could see the roof of the Sleep Ease Inn Hotel. Dr. Maurice Jordan had been a guest at that hotel when he’d been killed.

  Silence settled over the car’s interior like a prickly blanket. Was Sister Marianna remembering how hard she’d argued to stop Sister Lou’s investigation? She’d even brought her objections to the congregation’s leadership team. Despite her many dogged efforts, Sister Marianna had failed to end Sister Lou’s sleuthing precisely because Sister Lou had stood firm for what she’d believed in: justice for her friend.

  “I’m sorry.” Sister Marianna was much more subdued.

  An apology? From Marianna? I’m going to note this date on my calendar for an annual remembrance. “You, Autumn, and I are on the same team. We all want the retreat to be a success, but we’re running out of time to plan it. The retreat starts in a little more than four weeks.”

  Sister Marianna shifted to face Sister Lou again. “What would you suggest?”

  Sister Lou tensed as she drove past the Sleep Ease Inn Hotel. Rest in peace, dear friend.

  She turned onto Main Street. “I’ll coordinate the online survey. We’ll need a quick turnaround, then you and I will meet to discuss the results.”

  “That would be fine. However, when the congregation chooses my healthier menu items, Autumn had better accept the results.”

  Sister Lou had been with the congregation for seven years. She was fairly confident that the majority of the sisters wouldn’t choose lima beans and tofu over dill potatoes and rotisserie chicken. “One step at a time, Marianna.”

  As uncomfortable as this morning’s meeting had been, it would pale in comparison to the next one, when the survey results weren’t in Sister Marianna’s favor.

  * * *

  “Give me a hint. What am I supposed to be looking for in the mayor’s office?” Not for the first time, Sharelle “Shari” Henson, investigative reporter with The Briar Coast Telegraph, wondered what her editor in chief expected her to uncover when he assigned her to snoop around the mayor’s office and town hall.

  She considered Diego DeVarona as he stopped by her cubicle late Thursday morning. He’d been the Telegraph’s editor for a month. In that short period of time, he’d given the staff a renewed sense of purpose and pride. He’d reintroduced real journalism, pushing reporters, copy editors, editors, and photographers, c
hallenging them to be more critical of their news coverage and holding everyone to a higher standard. Shari pinched herself every morning before coming to work.

  “I can’t tell you what you’re looking for.” Diego propped his right shoulder against the threshold of Shari’s cubicle and sipped his coffee. The Texas transplant’s porcelain mug was emblazoned with the Toronto Raptors National Basketball Association black and red franchise logo. She still didn’t believe his story that he’d had to buy the mug after losing a bet.

  The newspaper’s overhead lights sparkled on the few silver strands hiding among the thick waves of his mahogany hair. His tall, lean form was outfitted in a cerulean blue shirt, navy tie, and coffee brown slacks. He must have left his suit jacket hanging in his office.

  Shari regarded her boss with suspicion. “If you can’t tell me what I’m looking for, how do you know there’s anything to find?”

  “Instinct.” He was doing his sphinx impersonation again.

  Shari stared at him. “You assigned me to dig into the background of an elected official, her administration, and every member of the five-member Briar Coast Town Council on ‘instinct’? Are you pranking me, Diego?”

  “No.”

  “How can I meet your expectations if I don’t know what they are?” Shari cradled the porcelain mug he’d gifted her with when she’d returned to the newspaper. The front bore the screened question CAN I QUOTE YOU?

  Diego shook his head. “Don’t worry about my expectations. You’re good at what you do. That’s why I asked you to take this project.”

  Shari blinked. “Okay. Thanks.” His praise had rattled every one of her brain cells. She scrambled to remember the other matter she’d wanted to discuss with him. “I think the sheriff’s office’s still sulking over my helping Sister Lou with her investigation into Dr. Jordan’s murder.”

  “It’s been almost four weeks.”

  “I know, but they’re pretty tight-lipped when I call for news updates.”

  Diego sipped his coffee. “Your article did expose the deputies’ inability to solve the case. You, Sister Lou, and her nephew, Chris, did that.”

  Shari took a moment of silence to bask in the joint achievement. “How do you think I should handle this?”

  “Make an extra effort to be professional and nice to Deputies Cole and Tate. We can’t file crime stories without a quote from the sheriff’s office.” Diego saluted her with his coffee mug before disappearing in the direction of his office.

  Shari turned back to her desk, muttering under her breath. “I’ll need a miracle to get the deputies to work with me. Ever. Again.”

  * * *

  “Amen.” Christian “Chris” LaSalle lifted his head once his aunt, Sister Lou, finished saying grace over the dinner he was sharing with her and Shari at the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Hermione of Ephesus’s motherhouse Thursday evening. He made the sign of the cross, touching the first two fingers of his right hand to his forehead, chest, and left and right shoulders.

  He sat across from his aunt at their square, blond wood table, which cozied up to a window framed by bright flower-patterned curtains.

  Shari examined one of the boiled broccoli spears on the end of her fork. “Is it my imagination or are the meals being prepared a little differently lately?”

  “I was wondering the same thing.” Chris looked askance at his aunt.

  Even the seasonings that scented the air in the dining room had changed. They used to tempt the taste buds even before the first bite. Now they left the decision up to the diner. Were they going to consume just enough to satisfy their hunger or were they going to clean their dinner plates?

  Sister Lou took off her brown blazer. Her expression was wry. “Marianna’s on a health kick.”

  “It’s. Different.” Shari had the disposition of someone who’d experienced worse. She popped the broccoli into her mouth, then chewed tentatively.

  “I agree.” Sister Lou’s words were dry. She adjusted her pale pink blouse before cutting into the broiled chicken breast. “But not everyone likes change, especially when it affects their food.”

  “I can understand.” The previous cooking style had spoiled Chris. He turned from the broccoli for now and added salt to the chicken.

  “Marianna wants to spread her new health awareness to the retreat menu.” Sister Lou accepted the salt shaker from Chris. “Based on the sisters’ reactions here, I don’t believe that’s going to go over well.”

  His aunt might be right. At a glance, the sisters’ response to the new meal preparation ranged from dismay to disgust. The salt and pepper shakers at each table were getting extra attention. The change had even affected the mood of the dining room. The usual animated conversations and merry laughter were noticeably absent.

  “How’s your apartment hunting going?” Sister Lou directed the question and the salt shaker to Shari.

  Shari added the seasoning to her chicken. “I’ve looked at a few places. They’ve all been nice, but nothing has jumped out at me.”

  “When are you hoping to move?” Chris coated his chicken and broccoli with pepper before offering the shaker to Sister Lou.

  “Before Christmas.” Shari’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

  His brain took a moment to catch up with his vocal cords. “You’ve been in your current place less than three months. Didn’t you sign a one-year lease?”

  “Do you always play by the rules, Slick?” Shari’s eyes flashed a challenge. In her warm orange blazer and cream shell blouse, she looked as bright as a new day. “I have a month-to-month lease. I didn’t know whether this Briar Coast experiment would work out.”

  Sister Lou offered Shari the pepper shaker. “What do you think now?”

  Shari sprinkled pepper liberally over her meal before returning the shaker to the center of the table. “I like it. I have a great job and good friends. I’d call it a success.”

  Sister Lou seemed pleased. “So would I.”

  “I would, too.” Chris returned his glass of lemonade to the table. It could use more sugar. “But why did you ask for a month-to-month lease? Can you really tell whether you’ll like a place in just one month?”

  “Probably not.” Shari tilted her head. Lustrous raven curls framed her heart-shaped face. “That’s why I was going to give the paper and the town six months before moving on.”

  Well, six months is better than one, although not by much.

  “You’ve moved around quite a bit over the years.” Sister Lou cut into her broiled chicken. “I’m glad that you’re willing to give Briar Coast a chance.”

  Chris was still hounded by curiosity. “Why do you move around so much? What are you looking for?”

  Shari’s smile seemed strained. “You missed your calling. You would’ve made a great reporter.”

  “I’m just curious.” He tried a nonchalant shrug.

  “Why should I stay where I’m not happy?” Shari glanced at Sister Lou as though seeking validation.

  Why is she answering my questions with questions? “That’s a good point.”

  “Indeed it is.” Sister Lou eyed her dessert of angel food cake and vanilla ice cream with an air of defeat. “If you aren’t making the situation better for yourself or the people around you, then you should leave, if you can. Find a place where you can make a positive impact for yourself and your community.”

  Shari looked at Sister Lou with admiration. “That’s what I want to do, make a positive impact.”

  There was more to it than that. Shari was comfortable asking questions, but she didn’t like being on the receiving end. Why was she so secretive? And why did her secrecy make him even more curious about her?

  If she didn’t know what she was looking for—or even that she was looking—how could he be sure that she was here to stay?

  Chapter 3

  It was just past six o’clock on the last Friday morning in October. Each day, the sun took longer to rise. Sister Lou didn’t mind, though. Neither did her jo
gging partner, Sister Carmen Vega. Over the past seven years, their almost daily five-mile jogs had become a habit, like a reflex.

  As they drew closer to the campus of the College of St. Hermione of Ephesus, Sister Lou’s gaze was drawn to the base of one of the mission-style, wrought-iron lampposts that lit the parking lot between the congregation and the college. The sleek, furry form of a familiar cat stretched out with regal nonchalance on the asphalt lot.

  Haven’t I seen that cat gliding around the student dormitories? Probably. She recognized the calico’s gold-and-brown markings against the snow-white furry background.

  As though sensing Sister Lou’s thoughts, the cat stirred herself to turn her head in Sister Lou’s direction. Her pale green eyes held the sister’s gaze until she came abreast of the calico. Then the cat condescended to greet Sister Lou with a brief and casual lift of her chin. It was a humanlike How-Ya-Doin’ gesture that made Sister Lou grin. She nodded in return.

  Sister Lou gestured toward the cat to call Sister Carmen’s attention to her. “That cat is moving closer to the motherhouse and away from the dorms.”

  Sister Carmen blew a breath. “Do you blame her? She probably still needs a break from all the midterm tension two weeks ago.”

  “Good point.” Sister Lou turned her thoughts away from the cocky calico. “Several companies and nonprofit agencies already have agreed to partner with us on the outreach mission.” With each deep breath, Sister Lou drew in the sharp, sweet scents of the season. The crisp autumn air was perfect for their aerobic workout. Birdsong added harmony to the rhythmic beats of their footfalls.

  “Wonderful.” Sister Carmen was a bright glow in her lemon yellow wicking jersey and grass green runner’s pants. Beside her, Sister Lou felt lacking in creativity with her gray jersey and black pants. “I’m really happy about the success you’re having. But what I really want to know is how was the meeting with the resort owner and Marianna?”