Free Now You See Me by Kris Fletcher Page A

a whole bunch of memories I put together in my head.”
    Ben nodded. “Me, too. It’s like he was a story, not a real person.”
    This was wrong. So, so wrong. Of course Tish had no memories of Glenn, but for Sara and Ben to be losing him, too... Glenn had adored his children. They needed to know who he was and how much he had loved them.
    Tonight, she thought. Tonight she would sit down and go through the photo album and start writing stories to go with all the pictures. And everything else she could remember. But she’d already told them all her stories. They needed to see him in a new light, as a person who was once a kid like them, not a fading memory.
    Lyddie glanced around the cemetery. For the first time she focused on the other visitors walking the gravel paths and laying flowers on graves. Father’s Day had brought out the crowd. Surely, somewhere in this quiet place of remembrance, there was someone who could tell her children something new about their father.
    “Mommy, can we go? I’m bored.”
    “No, Tish. Not yet.” There. On the other side of an ostentatious marble angel, there was Harley Prestwick, town historian. He’d lived in Comeback Cove forever. Surely he would have a tale or two.
    “Wait here,” she ordered the kids. “I’ll be right back.”
    Gravel flew from beneath her sensible pumps as she walked double-time down the path. For a man in his seventies, Harley could move. It wasn’t until she reached out to tap his shoulder that she realized her request might seem a bit bizarre, or that Harley might not be up for company at the moment. But Harley had never been known to suffer in silence. And surely the needs of three children couldn’t be ignored.
    “I have a favor to ask,” she began, and explained her request as quickly as possible, stopping a couple of times to catch her breath. She really had to make time to exercise.
    Luckily, Harley was not only agreeable, but he also seemed eager to have someone to talk to on this sunny afternoon. Lyddie walked beside him back to the kids and sent up a prayer of thanks.
    Within minutes, Harley was seated on a granite bench, Tish beside him, Ben and Sara leaning against a pair of flowering crabs.
    “Well,” the old man began, “your father was a couple of years behind my boys in school. But I remember him well. Always a nice fellow, even back then, you know. Polite. And good-hearted, too, looking out for the little kids...”
    Harley droned on. Lyddie checked the kids’ faces and saw what she feared: the initial curiosity had dwindled to bored endurance. Once again, they were only hearing what they’d heard a hundred times before. Glenn the saint, Glenn the selfless one, Glenn the hero.
    Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all.
    She turned to see if there were any other possibilities wandering the cemetery and found herself almost face-to-face with J. T. Delaney.
    “Oh!” She stepped back, flushing at the realization that her breasts had been about two inches from his chest. Memories of the boathouse engulfed her. She looked away, fast, before she could start blushing. Or worse—imagining.
    “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
    “It’s okay. You just caught me by surprise.”
    “I cut across the grass.” He grinned. “Years of practice playing graveyard tag.”
    “What a lovely pastime.” He looked rather lovely, too, she had to admit. The tight shorts and chest-hugging shirts had been abandoned today in favor of a yellow-striped short-sleeved shirt and gray cargo pants. Not exactly Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, but it gave him a far more respectable air. Almost like an adult.
    Which made her wonder...
    “How old are you?”
    “How old am I?” His eyes sparked with familiar mischief when he grinned. “To borrow a line from the song, old enough to know better, but still too young to care.”
    Lyddie felt the heat rise to her face once again. She must be as pink as the blossoms on the crab tree. At