Free Buried Sins by Marta Perry Page B

take it for granted that the family would pitch in to help. A wave of guilt moved through Caro. She hadn’t done much in the way of helping Rachel or Grams since she’d been back, had she?
    “You have the inn guests to worry about. I’m sure you should be prepping for tomorrow’s breakfast or something.” She tried to take the box from Rachel’s hands, but her sister clung to it, laughing a little.
    “Don’t be so stubborn, Caro. How many times did I say that to you when we were kids?”
    “Pretty often. But not as often as Andrea did.” She had to return the smile. “That used to be her theme song when it came to me, as I recall.”
    “And how you resented it.”
    Yes, she had. She’d wanted to do things for herself, but Andrea, always trying so hard to be the big sister, had been just as determined to help her.
    Until Andrea had left, headed for college, and she hadn’t come back. And then Rachel had taken off in her turn. She could hardly blame them for that, could she? Except that it had left her alone with Mom.
    “I’m a big girl now. I’ve been doing my own loading and unloading from craft shows for a long time—” She looked up, startled, at the sound of another vehicle pulling up behind hers.
    Rachel lifted a hand in greeting to Zach as he slid out of the car. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll let Zach do the heavy lifting, then.”
    “Glad to,” he said, approaching. “Believe me, my sister has me well trained in the whole craft-show routine.” He reached past her to begin sliding the folding screen out of the trunk.
    Rachel gave her a quick hug. “Come over and we’ll raid the refrigerator for supper whenever you’re hungry. Grams won’t want much after her tea party today.” She scurried off, leaving Caro alone with Zach.
    He hefted the screen. “You want to get the door?”
    “Actually I want to know why you’re here. Again.” She unlocked the door as she spoke. After all, there was no point in refusing a hand in with the heavy things.
    “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” He stepped inside and set the screen against the wall.
    She paused on the doorstep, stiffening. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it.
    Zach leveled that steady gaze at her. “You look like you’re tensed up for bad news.”
    “I can’t imagine that you’re here to bring me good news.” She shoved the door shut behind her, aware of the alien scent almost before she registered it mentally. Her head lifted, face swiveling toward the kitchen.
    “Coffee smells good.” Zach’s tone was casual, but his eyes were watchful.
    “Yes.” She had to force the word out. “But I didn’t make any coffee this morning.”
    He frowned, and then crossed the dining area and rounded the breakfast bar into the kitchen. “Somebody did. The pot’s still on—the mug rinsed and left in the drainer. You sure you didn’t start it and then forget about it?”
    “I didn’t make any.” She walked to the counter. “I didn’t have time.”
    Her mind flickered to those moments when Zack had brought her coffee at the show. When she’d actually felt as if they were becoming friends. It had been an illusion, like so much else.
    “I don’t see how you can be sure,” he began.
    “Because I know what I did and what I didn’t do.” She snapped the words. “Because even if I had planned to make coffee, I wouldn’t have made that kind. Hazelnut. I don’t care for hazelnut. I don’t have any in the house.” Her voice was starting to veer out of control, and she caught herself, breathing hard.
    “Who does like hazelnut?” he asked quietly. As if he knew the answer already.
    “Tony.” It took an effort to swallow. “Tony liked hazelnut. It was all he drank.”
    He stood for a moment, watching, and then came to plant his hands on top of the counter. “Tony’s dead. So how could he be here, making coffee in your kitchen?”
    She sank onto the stool, her legs trembling. “He couldn’t. He