Lost Souls (A Caitlyn O’Connell Novel) by Delilah Devlin Page B

“Caitydid Migelo.” Her sigh gave away her surrender.
    “The rare ones aren’t for release, dear. But if you’d like to see the butterfly house, I have some endangered species there. I don’t get many folks interested in seeing my treasures, other than the odd collector, and I won’t sell to them only to have their desiccated little bodies displayed on a wall like some trophy.”
    “That’s so sweet of you!” Cait said, her expression wide-eyed, admiring. “Could I see those before we make our decision about which butterflies we’d like to have released during our nuptials?”
    Nuptials?
He’d never heard Cait use that word before. It made him shiver with dread. And what was she up to? The woman had tons of bugs. She’d never miss one from those swarming the monarch shed.
    As Mrs. E turned on the beaten path to lead the way, Sam mouthed,
What are you doing?
    Cait lifted her shoulders.
Go with it.
    Mrs. E led them through another deeply wooded trail in her large backyard, toward a plastic-wrapped domed greenhouse. “It’s such a thrill to have visitors. Most of my business is conducted via the Internet these days.”
    Cait tugged her hand free and skipped behind the older woman, her hair bobbing behind her. She tossed a smile over her shoulder and gave Sam a wink.
    He couldn’t help but smile at her antics.
    “I had no idea so many people were ordering butterflies for their weddings,” Cait jabbered on. “But when Aunt Celeste mentioned there were local breeders, I had to come see. I can’t imagine anything more appropriate for a wedding.”
    Mrs. E nodded. “Yes, a caterpillar leaving its chrysalis to fly free… The change is so very symbolic of new life, isn’t it? Although butterflies are becoming the rage at funerals these days too.”
    Sam shook his head at the nonsense. The thought of the type of wedding
or funeral
where butterflies flying out of boxes would be appropriate made him itch.
    Cait had been far more sensible when they’d decided to marry. A service at City Hall with a judge had taken all offifteen minutes. The only thing either of them had wanted to savor was the wedding night.
    “You’re so very lucky you came today,” Mrs. E said, pausing at the door of yet another shed. “I found a Hessel’s hairstreak nectaring on an
Amelanchier
today. I bought an Atlantic white cedar, that’s the hairstreak’s host tree, and planted it years ago, hoping it would thrive so that I could see this day.”
    “It’s that rare?” Cait said, her excitement unfeigned.
    Mrs. E unlocked the rickety plastic door and pushed it open. “On the endangered species list, my dear. Just wait until you see it.”
    As they entered, Sam blew out a breath, worried because Cait’s expression had lost its giddy vacancy for a split second.
    Her eyes narrowed as her gaze flitted about, looking for her quarry. “What’s a hairstreak look like? I’m assuming that’s a butterfly, or is it a moth?”
    “A butterfly. Minty green and brown. Ahhh. Here he is.”
    The woman stood with her hands clasped in delight beside a butterfly “nectaring” on a white flower.
    Sam eyed it, wondering about the fuss but admitting it was pretty. Mostly vivid green, the insect had white spots on its forewings, a dashed white line on its hindwings, and a rim of brown and black along the edges of its delicate larger wings.
    “She’s perfect,” Cait whispered.
    With his stomach sinking to his toes, he watched as Cait pulled her phone surreptitiously from her pocket and held it to the side while she tapped the screen.
    A telephone rang in the distance.
    Mrs. E turned toward the distant sound. “Oh my. That might be another customer. If you would come with me…”
    Cait’s expression fell. Disappointment shone in her puppy-like eyes. “Can we stay here while you answer your call?” she asked, the wheedling note reentering her voice. “It’s so beautiful and peaceful, the ambience I need to convince my fiancé that