Please enjoy this excerpt of Guided by a Kiss: A Small-Town, Holiday 20th Century Mystery Romance. Copyright 2021, Sophie Bartow.
Excerpt from Chapter 1
Swan Harbor News
November 28, 1995
2:00 p.m.
“Please, Mr. Glass,” Lanie Duncan pushed. “I know your copy editor and photographer ran off together, leaving you in a bind.”
“But Lanie, you’re…”
“Look,” she jumped in before he could get going. “Here’s my portfolio from school. I think you can see from these photos; I know what I’m doing.”
Sydney Glass, the owner and editor of the Swan Harbor News, studied her closely. Something in his dark eyes said he remembered her as a gauche teen who was just learning. But in her four years in college, she had honed and perfected her craft. She was good. And she knew it.
Be cool, Duncan.
Slowly, he turned the pages of the album she’d laid on his desk. And while he was careful not to show much of what he was thinking, she could tell when something caught his eye. A slight hesitation on one page. A lingering look on another.
“What do you think?” Lanie asked when she couldn’t stand it any longer.
Sydney closed her album and pushed it across the desk. “I’ll not deny that you’ve learned a lot since those first days. But the Christmas Tree decorating contest at the Lodge is big.”
“I know!” Lanie exclaimed. “But I’ve participated in it for the last few years. Plus, I’ve also got an in at The Lodge.”
“How so?”
“Suzie Goodwin and I went to school together.” Lanie grinned, holding back a small piece of information.
“Maxwell’s niece?”
“Yes!” Lanie played the rest of her hand. “We’ve been best friends for years. They’re used to me. So, I won’t stick out.” She hesitated a beat, and her heart climbed a little higher in her throat. “What do you say, Mr. Glass?”
He pressed his lips together, but there was a telltale glitter in his dark eyes.
“Okay,” Sydney finally conceded. “But on one condition.”
Lanie’s insides raced with excitement. Be cool, Duncan, she reminded herself. “What’s the condition?”
“Usually, my photographer goes in after the fact.” He hesitated. “But this year, I want more.”
“More?” Lanie replied. “More than just pictures of the completed trees?”
“Yes,” Sydney confirmed. “I want photos of the entire process.”
Her thoughts spun with artistic ideas, then clashed with her memories of the contest. And while there might be an issue here and there, she wasn’t willing to show any weaknesses.
“I can do that.”
Sydney’s brows shot up. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she tossed back. “I have a Nikon. Any chance I can borrow another camera?”
“You want to borrow a camera?”
“I do.” Lanie grinned. “I have a tripod and a few lenses. But I’m betting you have a wide-angle that would be perfect for the photos.”
Sydney’s face finally relaxed. “Fine. You can take the Mamiya 7.”
“You have a Mamiya 7?” Lanie swallowed. “Really?”
“I think there’s a Canon back there too,” Sydney murmured, “if you—”
“No,” she jumped in. “I’ve been reading about the Mamiya and am anxious to try it. How about film?”
“On the shelf.”
“And I can use the darkroom?”
“Of course.”
Lanie took a deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Glass. You won’t regret this.”
She gathered her stuff and was halfway out of his office when he called her name. Lanie glanced over her shoulder, worried he’d somehow changed his mind. “Yes.”
“Welcome aboard. Let me know if you have any questions.”
Lanie’s smile flew free, “I will, Mr.—”
“Sydney,” he cut her off. “You’re staff now.”
Her insides did a little dance at his words. I’m staff!
“Sydney,” Lanie repeated, trying not to show too much excitement.
Then she practically flew out the door. She’d just been given her first paying job doing what she loved. But first, she had to tell her mom she’d be decorating without her daughter’s help.
***
The Duncan home
November 28, 1995
2:30 p.m.
Wyatt Tanner’s car rolled to a stop in front of Rupert and Lois Duncan’s home. He unconsciously straightened his tie and studied his reflection in the mirror. The nerves he’d ignored since being handed the case stared back at him. Except there was something about the situation that felt off. It made him think he was he being tested. But by whom and for what reason, he didn’t know.
The shadowy government organization he worked for had more than likely given him leeway, especially in the beginning. But who – was calling the shots this time? Had he earned this chance on his own? Or was it because of who his parents were?
The Duncans and Tanners had met for the first time in 1969 at The Mountain View Lodge. Through the years, they had teamed up more than once for Agency cases. But they hadn’t worked together in a while. What would Lois and Rupert think when he rang the bell? Would there be questions he couldn’t answer?
He schooled his features to hide his wary expression. And with the memory of his parents’ words, when he’d been a new agent ringing in his ears, Tanner jumped from the car.
“When you take on a new case, march into it like you have a brass pair.”
“Madge!” exclaimed Jimmie. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Well,” Madge planted her hands on her hips, and her blue eyes flashed. “Do you have something better to say?”
Jimmie gave his son an indulgent smile. One that said, ‘your mother means well,’ before offering his words of wisdom. “All good agents have courage, resolve, and toughness.”
“See,” Madge pointed out. “Just like I said. Brass balls.”
The memory of his father blowing out a breath in exasperation made Tanner smile as he marched toward the Duncan’s front door. His parents had been married a lot of years. That his mother could still rile up his father was entertaining.
He knocked and didn’t have to wait long before the door was opened. A woman with dark hair and equally dark eyes studied him, making him feel as if he were a specimen in a petri dish.
“Wyatt Tanner,” Lois Duncan greeted before he could introduce himself. “With the exception of your blue eyes, you look just like your father.”
“I’ve been told that, ma’am,” he grinned. “But most people just call me Tanner.”
Her smile grew. “I remember Madge telling me that. Were you in the area?”
“No, ma’am.” Tanner held up the file. “I’m here on business.”
“Oh!” Lois’ eyes grew large, and she invited him into her home. “Ru, Madge and Jimmie’s boy is here.”
Rupert Duncan was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. He was holding a newspaper with one hand. And the other was busy scratching the ears of a black cat.
“You made it,” Rupert murmured, their eyes clashing.
“You knew I was coming?”
“Jimmie told me you were on the way.” Rupert offered. Which made Tanner wonder – who had told his father?
“He did?” Lois’ brows drew together. “Was there a reason you didn’t share that bit of news?”
“I forgot,” Rupert shrugged.
“Right,” she muttered. Lois turned to Tanner, “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Eggnog?”
“Coffee, please,” Tanner replied.
“Have a seat,” Rupert waved toward the sofa, “and tell me why you’re here.”
“You mean you don’t know?”
An expression flew across Rupert’s face. But it was too quick for Tanner to interpret. He transferred the file back and forth between his hands several times before asking, “Do you remember the name Marat Maltov?”
“Of course,” Rupert snapped. “What’s going on?”
“The Agency has been asked by our Russian counterpart to take care of a little problem they seem to be having.”
“What is Marat involved in this time?”
“Word has it that Maltov ended up with a set of nuclear codes,” Tanner explained. “He plans on selling them to the highest bidder.”
Rupert whistled. “Do we know how he ended up with the codes?”
“I can’t give you a definite answer,” Tanner replied. “But our speculation is he figured out who had stolen them and helped himself.”
“And killed the spy in the process,” Rupert surmised.
“That’s our best guess.” Tanner handed the file to the older man and waited as it was perused.
As he looked through the folder, Rupert periodically rattled off comments in Russian. But the only word Tanner understood was a name- Volkovs. A name that harkened back to Russian royalty.
“Okay,” Rupert went on. “I understand why you’d show this to me. But why here…in my home? Why not call and ask me to come to D.C.?”
“We have reason to believe Maltov is back in Swan Harbor,” Tanner explained.
“In Swan Harbor?” Lois repeated. “Really?”
“Well,” Tanner conceded. “If he’s not in Swan Harbor now, we believe he’s on his way.”
Rupert darted a glance in Lois’ direction. “And why are you telling me again?”
“We’re hoping you’re interested in resuming your same cover as before.”
“You want me to sing?”
“Wait a minute,” Lois jumped in before Tanner could respond. “You want us to go undercover again? It’s been years.”
“I,” Tanner tried to interject.
But Rupert was all in and tossed out, “It’s just like riding a bike. I’d just need to polish my pipes a bit.”
“Rupert Duncan!” Lois exclaimed. “It might be like riding a bike in your head. But in reality…” She turned her dark eyes on Tanner, making him feel like squirming in the seat. “Where do you suspect Maltov will show up?”
“At the Lodge, of course,” Tanner grinned. “And the decorating contest is the perfect place for him to make the trade without anyone noticing.”
“I’m in,” Rupert proclaimed. “What else do you know?”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Lois sputtered.
“You will,” Rupert assured her.
“How?” Lois exclaimed. “The Lodge no longer has hat check girls.”
“Well,” Rupert conceded, “true. But you and Lanie always enter the contest, so…”
***
The Duncan home
November 28, 1995
4:00 p.m.
Lanie bounced up the steps, excited to share her news. But the sight of a strange car parked in front of the house gave her pause.
She pushed open the door, and with the front room empty, listened. Her parents were in the kitchen, their voices easily recognized. It was the third one, though, that captured her attention.
Masculine. Sexy with a slight drawl, as if he was from the south. And while the rumble caused her pulse to race. The worry about what her parents were up to almost made her sneak back out.
“Lanie, is that you?” Her mother peeked around the corner from the kitchen.
“Ye-yes,” Lanie stuttered, wishing she’d been a bit faster. “Who’s here?”
“Come, let me introduce you.” Lois’ eyes twinkled.
The smile on her mother’s face had something inside Lanie shouting, ‘guard up, guard up.’ “I should…” She held up the cameras.
“It will just take a minute,” Lois pushed. “Then you can put those away.”
“Alright, mom,” Lanie sighed.
On her way across the room, she caught sight of her reflection. And while the female inside her said, ‘you’re pale.’ You need some color. Her self-preservation refused to allow any follow-through.
“Tanner,” Lois was saying when she walked into the kitchen. “Here’s our daughter, Lanie.”
He jumped up so quickly, the chair fell over, causing his cheeks to pinken and a lock of dark hair to fall across his forehead.
“Excuse me,” he drawled, picking up the fallen piece of furniture. “Wyatt Tanner.”
Lanie slipped her hand into his outstretched one. Her eyes locked with his, and awareness inside sparked to life.
To be continued …
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