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for degenerate behavior, Heartland took his own life two weeks ago. Prior to his death, the fellow-accused Wickfield remained elusive after Heartland’s suicide, but sources confirmed his state of mind had been such suicide can’t be ruled—
    I closed the article with a snap of the mouse. Oh God . I wanted to know more, but I wouldn’t get the information like this, behind Gabriel’s back.
    I didn’t leave the desk for several long minutes, because my knees felt weak. He’d had an affair, and it had obviously gone so very wrong. For both parties. I couldn’t even imagine.
    Is that why he got stuck? Was it some unrequited love thing? Was it because he killed himself? But why the B&B of all places?
    I opened Google again and wasted forty-five minutes of my life researching exorcisms.
    By the time I remembered I had to pick up the dynamic duo I was already ten minutes late, so I shut down my search and left the library in a cloud of sadness. My heart ached for Gabriel and I regretted every single time I’d called him Gabe just to goad him.
    I found Mrs. Anderson and Mr, Houzer holding hands in the crowded and steamed-up coffee shop where I told them we’d meet. I tried not to look too sour when I interrupted their sweet mumblings.
    “Ready to go?”
    “Oh.” Mrs. Anderson startled and blushed. Was that a hickey on her neck? Jeee-zus . “Yes, of course. Thank you for taking us, Mr. O’Donnelly. And for picking us up. That was very kind of you.”
    I almost told her Mr. O’Donnelly was my long deceased and slap-happy grandpa but that would mean we’d be on first name basis, and just, no.
    “Let’s get going,” I said. “It looks like more snow.”
    They hurried to their feet and followed me to the parking lot. No one said anything when we were faced with the bluest sky we’d seen in days.
    The drive home was even more awkward because despite the empty seat beside me, they decided to sit in the back. I kept my eyes resolutely on the road and thanked my lucky stars for the short drive.
    As always Lake House seemed to welcome me with open arms. From the wrought-iron gate to the white smoke coming from the chimney, I could breathe easier as soon as I saw it. The Christmas lights twinkled sweetly in the gentle breeze and I knew I was home.
    I remembered my resolve to be nicer to my guests. “Need help with anything?” I asked Mrs. Anderson. She shook her head quickly, flashed me a fake smile, and scurried inside.
    Maybe I really had been too rude. I’d make it up to them somehow. First, I needed to find Gabriel. I didn’t spare much thought to the brand new Toyota sitting in my driveway.
    “Is he around?” I asked Elisa as I carried in the groceries and disappeared into the pantry.
    “Who? Owen? He’s in the lounge, I think.”
    “No. Gabriel.” I peered into the mirror, but there was no one there.
    “Why?” Elisa asked, following me and closing the door behind her. “Did you find out something interesting?”
    I shook my head, not wanting to talk behind his back. Especially since he could be listening and I wouldn’t have a clue. “Do any of the guest rooms still need cleaning?”
    “I did them all, but the lounge needs a vacuum.”
    “I’ll do that as soon as Owen’s out of there.” She stared at me for a long moment and I stared back, waiting. “What?”
    “You’re not going to sit with Owen?”
    I thought about that for a second. I could imagine him by the hearth, long legs stretched out in front of him. Maybe he’d lost the sweater in the heat of the fire…
    Gabriel’s story tugged at me.
    “Maybe later,” I told her and left her gaping after me as I hurried toward my room.
     

     
    I had a feeling he’d be waiting to talk to me in one of my mirrors but I wasn’t prepared to find him sitting by the French doors, staring out over the lake. He gently rocked back and forth, but his posture wasn’t relaxed. His elbows rested on his thighs, his fingertips pressed into his lips and