The familiar ringtone of her cell phone sliced through the peaceful quiet of her inn room. It was Tasha, her energy practically leaping through the digital connection.
"Camille! My favorite runaway! How's the land of love and…questionable plumbing?" Tasha's voice was as bright and effervescent as ever.
Camille chuckled, sinking into the window seat overlooking the back garden. "The plumbing is thankfully functional, thanks to your elusive Jude. And the land of love…well, it's certainly…quaint."
"Quaint? Is that code for 'surrounded by eligible, brooding handymen'?" Tasha's intuition, as always, was unnervingly accurate.
Camille hesitated. "There is a handyman. He fixed my sink. That's the extent of it." She tried to sound nonchalant, but she could feel a faint blush creeping up her neck.
"Uh-huh. And does this handyman have soulful eyes and a mysterious past that you're just dying to uncover?" Tasha's teasing was relentless.
"He's…quiet," Camille conceded. "And Mrs. Gray hinted at a past, but nothing specific."
"Ooh, intrigue! See? Maplewood is already working its magic! You went there for rest, and you're getting a brooding hero with a secret! It's practically a romance novel starter kit."
Camille rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress a small smile. "You're incorrigible."
"And you're finally sounding a little less stressed," Tasha countered. "So, spill. What else has this magical town offered? Any sightings of love-struck squirrels or matchmaking mailmen?"
Camille recounted her explorations of Main Street, the charming shops, the pervasive romantic atmosphere, and her brief encounters with Jude at the inn and the diner. She mentioned the art gallery and the captivating photographs signed "J. Maddox."
"A photographer turned handyman?" Tasha's voice held a note of genuine curiosity. "That's definitely a plot twist. What kind of photos?"
"Landscapes, portraits…they were really quite beautiful. Full of emotion."
"See! Artist's soul! Definitely brooding hero material. You need to investigate further, Camille. For research purposes, of course."
Their conversation drifted to work, to Tasha's latest artistic endeavors, and to Camille's mother's increasingly frequent and subtly guilt-tripping emails. By the time they hung up, Camille felt a familiar mix of affection for her best friend and a renewed sense of her own isolation from her usual life.
Later that afternoon, as Camille was enjoying a quiet cup of tea on the porch, Beau Reynolds arrived at the inn. He greeted Mrs. Gray with his usual cheerful enthusiasm and then spotted Camille on the swing.
"Afternoon, Camille! Enjoying the peace and quiet?" He perched on the porch railing, his easygoing demeanor a welcome contrast to Mrs. Gray's quiet reserve and Jude's taciturn presence.
"It's lovely," Camille agreed. "Very different from the city."
"That's the charm of Maplewood," Beau said with a smile. "It slows you down, makes you appreciate the simple things." He paused, a slightly more serious expression crossing his face. "Actually, I was hoping I might catch you. I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong at the diner this morning, pushing the whole falls expedition."
"Not at all, Beau," Camille assured him. "I appreciated the invitation. I just wasn't feeling up for a drive today."
"No worries," he said, his smile returning. "Maybe another time. Actually," he hesitated again, a hint of nervousness in his voice, "I was wondering if you'd seen Tasha around town? I tried calling her, but she didn't answer."
Camille's eyebrows rose slightly. "Tasha? She's not here, Beau. She lives in the city."
Beau's cheerful expression faltered. "She…what? But…she mentioned she might be visiting…a friend…" His voice trailed off, a look of confusion and something akin to hurt in his eyes.
Camille frowned. Tasha hadn't mentioned anything about visiting Maplewood. In fact, their earlier conversation had been firmly rooted in their city lives.
"Beau, are you sure she said Maplewood?" Camille asked gently.
He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely bewildered. "I…I thought so. She said she wanted to surprise someone. And she knows I grew up here…"
A realization dawned on Camille. Beau's earlier comment at the diner, about Jude being a reluctant hero, had been followed by a knowing glance at her. Had he somehow misinterpreted something?
"Beau," Camille said carefully, "maybe there was a misunderstanding. Tasha called me from the city this morning."
The disappointment on Beau's face was palpable. He looked like a deflated balloon. "Oh," he said quietly. "Right. Of course." He forced a weak smile. "Silly me. Must have gotten my wires crossed."
There was an awkward silence, the cheerful atmosphere he usually exuded completely absent. He seemed lost in thought, his gaze distant.
"Well," he said finally, pushing himself off the railing. "I should probably…go. See if she's…around." He gave Camille a brief, unconvincing smile. "Nice chatting with you."
He walked away, his usual spring in his step noticeably absent. Camille watched him go, a sense of unease settling over her. Beau's reaction had been more than just casual disappointment. He had genuinely seemed to believe Tasha was in Maplewood.
Could there be something more to his connection with Tasha than Camille had realized? They had seemed friendly enough at the diner, but Beau's obvious expectation of seeing her here suggested a deeper connection. And why would Tasha have implied she was visiting Maplewood without mentioning it to Camille?
The easy rhythm of Maplewood Hollow suddenly felt a little less predictable, a few more tangled threads appearing in its seemingly simple weave. And as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the porch, Camille couldn't shake the feeling that there were more secrets simmering beneath the surface of this charming little town than she had initially imagined.