Page 41 of Something’s Brewing

Garrett looked over. “The lake?”

She nodded. “The stillness. The space to breathe.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then said, “It suits you.”

She turned her head, surprised by the softness in his voice.

Their eyes met in the low light, and for a moment, the silence between them felt charged again—not with tension, but with something steadier.

She offered a small, almost wistful smile. “You’re full of surprises tonight.”

He exhaled, standing slowly from his chair. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to protect.”

She laughed under her breath, and he paused at the edge of his patio, hand on the doorframe.

“Good night, Madison.”

The way he said her name—low, deliberate, almost like it meant more than he was ready to admit—sent a soft hum through her chest.

She looked over her shoulder. “Good night, Garrett.”

He hesitated a second longer. Then nodded once and stepped inside, the door clicking quietly shut behind him.

Madison stared at the lake for a few more minutes, the echo of his voice still lingering.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel restless.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Madison removed her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes. She picked up her phone and glanced at the time. No wonder her eyes were tired. She’d been working non-stop finishing up notes for the upcoming committee update. She hadn’t found much about the corruption at City Hall except that she knew there was a lot more she wasn’t seeing. Her phone pinged with a text from an unknown number.

Hi Madison. It’s Frankie. I’m Mayor Benson’s assistant. We met when I walked you to Mayor Morty’s office. I was hoping you’d remember me. I need a favor, but I can’t explain over text. Could we meet? Somewhere quiet.

Frankie. She remembered her—smart eyes, nervous energy, and the subtle glance she’d given Madison when Morty’s short bark dismissed her.

This might be the break she needed.

Eager to respond, she started to type but stopped when the blinking bubbles appeared, indicating Frankie still had something to say.

I’ll be at Willow Creek Assisted Living on Thursday at 2 p.m. visiting my grandmother. Could you stop by pretending to visit or volunteer? I’ll send the address. Please don’t tell anyone.

Madison reread the messages.

Her phone pinged again.

You’re smart. And not from here. That’s why I’m asking you. I think you’ll know what to do with the info I give you.

Madison typed:

I’ll be there. Grandma Carolyn and I are overdue for a visit.

Frankie sent a thumbs-up emoji. Madison put the phone down, heart racing a little faster now. Hopefully this was the lead she’d been looking for, but no matter what Frankie brought her, her stay in Deer Creek Falls was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

A soft instrumental version of “Moon River” drifted through the air. The smell of coffee and something faintly floral hung around the cozy reception area. Madison scanned her surroundings. A few residents sat in comfortable chairs, reading or chatting with visitors.

She spotted Frankie sitting on a loveseat near the window, waving her over.

Frankie wore her hair in a ponytail pulled through a baseball cap. Without makeup, she looked more like a teenager visiting a relative than the mayor’s assistant.