Page 28 of Laced With Secrets

Adelaide stood in the front room, immaculate in her winter coat and mayoral composure, a bright smile on her face.

“There you are!” She looked between us with polite interest, then gestured toward the shop’s entrance. “I hope I’m not interrupting. Your front door was standing wide open. I assumed a customer left and forgotten to close it properly.”

I glanced at Dominic, who frowned slightly. “I could have sworn I locked it.”

“These old mechanisms,” Adelaide said sympathetically, moving to test the door herself. “Look—” She demonstrated how thelatch didn’t quite catch unless you pulled it firmly. “It needs a good tug to engage properly. My brother’s always complaining about the doors at the estate. The cold makes everything contract and expand unpredictably. Can’t have your heat escaping with energy prices the way they are.”

“You didn’t see anyone leave?” I asked.

Her expression turned apologetic. “No, can’t say that I did.”

I felt my tension ease slightly.

“Thank you for closing it,” I said, meaning it. “I appreciate that.”

“Of course.” Adelaide’s gaze swept the shop, warm and appreciative. “The decorations are coming along beautifully. Very festive.”

I felt a flush of pleasure at the compliment on my decorating. “Thank you.”

“Did you need something, Mayor Fairfax?” Dominic asked, his hand finding my lower back.

“Please, call me Adelaide. And yes, actually.” She settled into one of my customer chairs with easy grace. “I know Judy is managing most of the centennial planning—and doing a wonderful job, I might add—but there’s one particular element I wanted to handle personally.” She pulled a leather portfolio from her bag. “The memorial service for Thomas Wong.”

The words caught me off guard. “Memorial service?”

“Yes.” Adelaide’s expression shifted to something more solemn and respectful. “Now that we know what happened to Thomas, now that his remains have been properly identified and can be laid to rest with dignity, I think the community needs closure.A formal remembrance ceremony as part of the centennial celebration.” She looked at me earnestly. “I’d like you to speak at it, Leo. Your grandfathers knew Thomas personally. Your family’s craftsmanship helped identify him. It seems fitting that you should be the one to honor his memory publicly.”

The weight of her request settled on my shoulders. “I… I’m not sure what I’d say.”

“Just speak from the heart,” Adelaide said warmly. “Share what you’ve learned about him. Honor his memory and his contributions to the district. Nothing elaborate—just genuine.” She made a note in her portfolio. “His relatives will be present. Your words would mean something.”

There was something touching about the idea. Thomas, forgotten for fifty years, finally being remembered publicly. Being honored.

“When were you thinking of holding the service?” Dominic asked.

“During the centennial weekend. Perhaps Saturday evening at the Historical Society building.” Adelaide smiled. “It would be dignified, appropriate. Richard is quite insistent about paying respects properly. Thomas worked for the family firm, after all. Richard remembers him fondly—he was quite affected when the remains were identified.”

“I’d be honored to speak,” I found myself saying.

“Wonderful.” Adelaide closed her portfolio, clearly pleased. “We’ll coordinate details next week. I’ll leave the specific content entirely up to you—just let me or Judy know if you need any historical materials from the Society archives to help with yourpreparation.” She stood, smoothing her coat. “I should let you get back to your decorating.”

After she left—making sure to pull the door firmly closed behind her—I moved to test the lock myself. She was right. It didn’t catch properly unless you pulled hard.

“I should have noticed that,” Dominic said, coming to stand beside me. “I thought I’d locked it, but…”

“Old buildings,” I agreed. “I’ll have the locksmith check it.”

“The memorial service is a good idea,” Dominic said.

“Thomas deserves it.” I leaned against him, letting his warmth ground me. “It feels right.”

I leaned into his embrace, his solid frame supporting mine. The ticking of the antique clock on the wall marked each quiet moment between us until my stomach growled again—loudly.

Chuckling, Dominic pulled out his phone. “Still craving that monte cristo?”

“With salt and vinegar chips,” I confirmed. “Two orders, please.”

“Two orders it is.” He was already dialing as he headed for the door. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. And Leo—” He paused, his dark eyes intense. “Don’t climb anything while I’m gone.”