Murder at Eagle Summit

Surprised, Liz shook his hand. “You own the lodge?”

He waved toward the back wall, beyond which lay the ski area base. “And the resort. Well, us and the bank, of course. We bought it a couple of years ago.” He glanced at the muffins in the case. “Oh, don’t even think about eating those. The bakery should be here with their daily delivery any minute.”

Liz slid into one of the tall wooden chairs as he pulled the old muffins out and wadded up the crumb-covered parchment paper. Eagle Summit must be a smaller business than she thought, if the owner had to step in when a coffee shop worker called in sick.

He chatted as he wiped the trays down and lined them with fresh paper. “My wife oversees the ski resort, and since my background is in the hospitality industry, I take care of the lodge.”

“You both must stay pretty busy.”

“You know it.” He flashed a grin in her direction as he slid an empty tray back into the case. “But at least we love what we’re doing.” He raised a hand and snapped his fingers in the air. “You’re with the Carmichael wedding party!”

“That’s right. How did you know?”

He grimaced. “I wish I could say we have so many reservations that it’s hard to keep track of all the guests, but that wouldn’t be true. We’ve been looking forward to this wedding for months. Besides, you look like you’re related to the bride.”

“She’s my cousin.”

His smile brightened. “Ah, then you’re the musician from Tennessee.”

“Kentucky, but yes.”

“I’m eager to hear what you think of our new reception room. I hope the acoustics are okay. Your cousin’s is the first wedding we’ve held in it since we remodeled.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

He flashed an absent smile in her direction and went into the back room again. The odor of fresh coffee permeated the air and Liz watched the carafe fill with the dark liquid.

Mr. Harrison returned with a pitcher of cream and a container full of sweetener packets just as the stream of coffee slowed to a drip.

“There you go.” He set an oversize mug on the counter in front of her. “Those fresh muffins should be here any minute.”

Liz sipped her coffee black from the mug. Ah!

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m meeting the bride for breakfast at eight.” She lifted the mug in a mock salute. “This is perfect until then.”

She picked up her mug with one hand and retrieved the newspaper from where he’d tossed it on the counter, then selected one of the six tables lining the wall. The chairs were spindly and narrow, a fifties diner–type look with red vinyl seat cushions. Liz indulged in a broad smile as she imagined Grandma’s reaction to their insufficient width when she arrived in…she glanced at her watch…about forty minutes.

The bedroom walls were closing in on Tim. For the millionth time he glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Six minutes since the last time he checked. Twenty-seven minutes since the time before. And one hundred eighty-four minutes since he first woke at 3:07 a.m. with his brain whirling around the thought he could not banish. Liz was here, at Eagle Summit Resort just a few minutes away. He would see her today.

Lord, does she ever think about me?

Dread and anticipation churned together in his gut. How would she react when she saw him?

With a jerk, he threw off the blanket and rolled out of bed. His mind had become his enemy, this room his prison. He had to get up, get moving. A hot shower would do him a world of good, clear his head.

He flipped the wall switch and light flooded his sparsely furnished bedroom. Two steps took him to his dresser, where he gathered his clothes. As he slid the drawer shut, his gaze fell on a small black box nestled amid the odds and ends on the surface of his dresser. What perverse sense of self-punishment stopped him from getting rid of the thing three years ago, like he should have? He’d started to a dozen times. As long as he kept it where he could take it out and look at it every so often, moving on was impossible. But something always held him back.

Swallowing hard, he picked up the box and hesitantly opened the lid. The diamond caught the light and winked at him from its bed of black velvet.

Maybe this weekend he could finally get some closure, put the past behind him.

Tim snapped the box closed and held it for a moment in his hand. Then he set it back on the dresser.

Two refills later, when she had read every interesting article in the paper and had just started on the sports section out of desperation, a familiar figure finally stepped through the doorway.

“Liz! I’m so glad to see you!”

Liz stood as Debbie raced across the room to gather her in a hug. Liz returned the embrace with as much enthusiasm as the bride-to-be. It had been far too long since she’d seen Debbie. Though they’d been in constant touch through e-mail, she realized with a sudden rush of emotion just how much she’d missed her cousin and college roommate—far more than she had allowed herself to realize.

Her hands lingered on Debbie’s arms after their fierce embrace ended, and she looked her cousin over. Debbie was largely unchanged. If anything, she was prettier than ever, with her thick, dark hair falling well past her shoulders, and bangs accenting her round eyes.

“You look fantastic,” Debbie said at the same time Liz gushed, “You’re going to be a beautiful bride!”

Their laughter mingled, and three years melted away.

“Ahem!”

An indignant voice cut into their reunion. Liz, her back to the new arrival, took a deep breath and rolled her eyes at Debbie, who bit back a giggle. Steeling her expression, Liz turned to face the third-most-dreaded encounter of the weekend.

“Grandma, you look wonderful.” She knew her voice gushed, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You haven’t aged a day.”

Actually, she hadn’t. Her grandmother looked exactly the same as she had three years ago. Finger curls of steel-gray hair still clung tightly to her scalp. The same knowing, brown gaze pierced Liz like a laser beam. And the floral-print dress she wore, not to mention the support hose and sturdy black shoes, were as familiar as Liz’s own wardrobe. Only a lot older.

“Elizabeth. I’m glad you decided to show up. I half-expected you wouldn’t.”

Yeah. Same Grandma.

The old lady accepted a kiss of greeting, then pulled out a chair and examined the small cushion with a jaundiced eye. Liz hid a smile as Grandma pushed the chair back under the table and turned toward Mr. Harrison, who hovered behind the counter, watching their reunion.

“I believe we’ll take our coffee out on the sofa in the lobby. Can you send someone to build up the fire?”

“Of course, Mrs. Carmichael. I’ll bring a tray out immediately.” His tone was deferential. Apparently Mr. Harrison had encountered Grandma before this morning.

Debbie linked arms with Liz as they followed Grandma to the lobby. “How was your flight? Everything okay with your room?”

“The flight was uneventful,” Liz told her, “and the room is great.”

She’d barely settled in a square, overstuffed chair catty-corner to the couch that Grandma claimed when Mr. Harrison arrived with a tray full of coffee and Danish. He set it on the rough-hewn sofa table and filled two mugs from the carafe, then refilled Liz’s, as well. With a slight bow toward Grandma and a grin in Liz’s direction, he disappeared silently.

Grandma stirred three sugar packets into her coffee, raised her mug to her lips and caught Liz’s gaze over the rim. “Elizabeth, I hope you’ve brought it.”

There was no need to wonder what Grandma referred to. Liz gulped a fortifying sip of scalding coffee.

“There you are!”

She turned gratefully toward the timely interruption. Jazzy and Caitlin strode across the lobby, looking much brighter and more alert than Liz felt. Liz inspected her friends with fresh eyes, aware that Grandma was examining them through her usual critical lens.

Liz performed the introductions. “Grandma and Debbie, these are my friends from Kentucky. Jazzy plays the violin, and Caitlin the flute.”