“That would actually make more sense than one of your guests,” Mickey pointed out. “That would be a flash back.”
“But he’s not dead.” She looked at the house. The light was on in Miss Weena’s room. “Not even a dead man walking. Just a man getting ready for bed.”
She turned and slipped her arms around his waist. She liked hugging him. Her knees went weak. Who’d have thought she’d go nuts for a crisp, clean guy with blue eyes? Not that she expected to go nuts for any guy. It had been a long-standing family tradition for the Seymour women to eschew marriage for a life of extreme eccentricity. Luci’s feet had been firmly set on the family path until she ran into Mickey and found herself wondering if traditions could be set aside—if a Seymour woman could change.
The answer to both questions
