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Outside the large display windows of Time in a Bottle, snow continued to fall in delicate flakes that slowly but surely were piling up into something alarmingly like drifts.

At this rate, it was going to be a white Christmas. Not that Andy was in the mood to think about Christmas or the holidays.

At twelve-thirty, the front door swung open, and Andy, stationed at the front desk, glanced up from comparing inventory lists. “Quinn?” he called.

No answer.

The hair at the back of his neck prickled. “Hello?”

He came around the desk and spotted Clark, stocking cap clutched in one gloved hand, walking down the center aisle.

“Just me.”

“Hi,” Andy said without a whole lot of enthusiasm. “What’s up?”

Clark was shivering as he dropped his cap and gloves on the counter and unzipped his heavy coat. “Brrr. Everyone’s saying it’s going to be a white Christmas.”

“Looks like it.”

“Has Chief Millard come up with anything on the break-in yet?”

“Nope. Not that he’s shared with me.”

Clark threw him a funny look. “Is it true, you and Quinn Rafferty are playing detective?”

Andy frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

Clark shrugged. “It’s a small town. People talk.”

“How would anyone—” Andy stopped. Did it matter how Clark had learned Quinn was lending Andy a helping hand—or what interpretation people put on Quinn’s actions? Not really. He said instead, “It’s true that I intend to find out why someone keeps trying to break into the shop. I’ll take any help I can get.”

Clark looked startled. “Why are you givingmethat look?”

“I didn’t know I was.”

“Ihave no idea what’s going on.”

Andy shrugged. “I’m not arguing. I have no idea what’s going on either.”

Clark seemed inclined to argue but settled for casting Andy a doubtful look. “Look, Andrew, the reason I’m here is I wanted to apologize for…for how things seemed last night.”

Andy said coolly, “How they seemed, or how they were?”

Clark winced. “I don’t blame you for being mad. I know Fleur can be a wee bit abrasive sometimes. When she thinks people are trying to take advantage.”

“Advantage?”

“It’s just she’s so small and pretty, all her life people have underestimated her, tried to ride roughshod over her. You can’t blame her if she sort of overcompensates now.”

In Andy’s opinion, Fleur was small and pretty like a barracuda. But Clark loved her, and she seemed, in her way, fond of Clark, so good for them.

He asked politely, “Okay, but how am I taking advantage of Fleur?”

“You’re not. Only, we had such high hopes for…” He gave Andy a quick, doubtful look. “Fleur’s been—trying to, anyway—look after Cutty some. You know, popping in to make sure he was eating and taking care of himself.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“And then Cutty started talking about bringing me in as a partner.” He drew in a quick breath. “About giving me a second chance.”