Tide and Punishment

by Bree Baker

  “That’s interesting,” I said, rushing around her to haul open the door. “I wonder if that meeting was the reason he’d been so adamant about his neighbor’s fence size and construction?”

  “Probably,” Aunt Clara said. “The application and acceptance process can take quite a while, and keeping a whole town of citizens, residents, and businesses in line with historic expectations is a full-time endeavor. Plus, he still had his responsibilities as mayor to keep up with.”

  A uniformed officer met us in the lobby. “Come on in, Ms. Swan.” He greeted Aunt Clara with a smile, then nodded at me. “Everly.”

  I squinted at the guy for a long moment before I placed him as Brayden Castle, a kid I went to high school with. Brayden had been an upperclassman who didn’t know I was alive back then. Now, he was a cop, and I was frequently entangled in murder investigations, so he recognized me on sight and not the other way around. Guess I showed him.

  I lifted my fingers in a hip-high wave.

  “They’re waiting for you in the back,” he said. “Here. Let me help.” He lifted Aunt Clara’s big bag off my shoulder and hooked it on his, then took the slow cooker from her hands and strode away.

  We hurried along in his wake.

  “Who is ‘they’?” I whispered to Aunt Clara as we scuttled down the hall.

  “Everyone,” Brayden answered from several yards ahead.

  “Nothing wrong with his hearing,” I muttered, earning a smile from Aunt Clara.

  “Nothing at all,” he agreed, then shot a wide smile over his shoulder.

  Good thing I hadn’t commented on the fit of his pants.

  Brayden turned through an open doorway with lots of jovial conversations flowing out.

  I stopped to gawk upon arrival. Four officers sat around a table with Aunt Fran and a deck of cards. Grady leaned against the wall behind them, sipping a cup of what I assumed was coffee and smiling at his view of Fran’s hand.

  Aunt Clara ran for her sister.

  The cards went facedown when the officers got a whiff of the cheddar, eggs, and ham. Brayden set the slow cooker on the break room countertop and plugged it in. Chairs scraped over the linoleum floor as the other lawmen jumped to their feet.

  I hugged Aunt Fran when Aunt Clara finally released her. “How are you? Why aren’t you in a cell?” I checked her over head to toe. “What are you wearing?”

  She looked down at her baggy black sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt with CHARM PD in a large, white font. “Grady brought them to me before bed. I didn’t have any pajamas, and it’s not as if I could sleep in my holiday dress.”

  I raised my eyes to Grady and mouthed the words thank you.

  He lifted his cup slightly in return.

  “I’m fine,” Aunt Fran continued. “I wasn’t arrested, and Detective Hays let me sleep on a cot in the empty office beside his. We played cards and listened to oldies music until I was sleepy enough to doze off. Then, I slept until almost eight!” Her eyes were wide with amusement. “I haven’t slept past five-thirty since the Kennedy administration. I might have to come here more often.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said. “I didn’t sleep at all I was so worried about you.”

  She patted my cheek. “Your Detective Hays took good care of me.”

  I swung my gaze back to Grady, suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation.

  He shrugged.

  “There’s an attorney coming over from the mainland,” Aunt Fran said. “Janie called a firm with more names than I can remember, and they’re sending an associate. She told me not to talk to these guys until the attorney gets here, but I like to play cards.”

  Brayden laughed. “She’s crushing them,” he said. “It’s not much of a game.”

  Grady peeled himself off the wall. “I’ll assure Janie they only talked cards,” he said.

  I bristled nonsensically. “You’re planning to talk to Janie?”

  He dipped his chin and eyed me carefully. “She’s called a couple of times to ask me about Fran, and she’ll be here with the attorney later.”

  “Oh.” I forced a tight smile. “That’s nice.” I briefly considered staying to see the attorney too, but there were other things I needed to get done today, and I was down to half a lemon cake in my private sweets stash. That wasn’t nearly enough sugar to get me through the trauma of watching Janie flirt with Grady in person.

  Grady patted Fran’s shoulder as he passed. “She’s not talking about the case, but she’s definitely having a good luck streak. I hung around to see if she was cheating,” he teased.

  Aunt Fran did an exaggerated eye roll. “I beat you last night because you weren’t paying attention. I beat them because they aren’t any good.”

  The officers returned to the table, their plates and mouths full of melted cheddar, ham, and eggs. They didn’t seem to mind the insult.

  Grady moved closer to my side. “How long can you stay?”

  I gave my giddy aunts a look. They held hands on the table as if they’d been parted for years instead of overnight. “I’d planned to stay an hour, or as long as you’d let me, but it doesn’t look like Aunt Fran needs me, and her attorney is coming, so I should probably get going. I’ve got some cookie deliveries to make. Lanita’s waiting outside.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” he said.

  I hugged my aunts goodbye. Aunt Fran assured me that Janie would drop Aunt Clara off at Blessed Bee after the attorney left. Aunt Clara promised to call me with details from the meeting. Grady set a palm on the small of my back and escorted me to my ride.

  * * *

  Lanita dropped me off at Sun, Sand, and Tea an hour later. With her help, I’d made all the deliveries in half the time it would’ve taken me in Blue, plus there were no icicles hanging from my nose and my fingers weren’t blue.

  I flipped the window sign to C’mon in Y’all! and went to await the customers.

  I started when I heard Aunt Clara call my name. My eyes blinked rapidly as I peeled my cheek off the table where I’d accidently fallen asleep in the silence. I wiped drool from the corners of my mouth and waited while the world came into focus. “Hello?”

  Aunt Clara peeked her head around the corner. “I have a surprise for you,” she sang.

  “Is it a pony?” I croaked.

  “Better.” She stepped into the café and flung her arms out. “Ta-da!”

  Aunt Fran danced into sight, smile wide and arms swinging overhead. “I’m free. I’m free. I’m free-free-free!”

  Joy shot me onto my feet, and I ran to scoop her into a hug. “Oh my goodness! How are you here?” Had Grady found evidence to prove her innocence while I’d been out delivering cookies and napping in my café?

  Janie slipped into view from behind them. She did a shy wave. “The attorney was as good as he claimed,” she said. “It took him less than ten minutes to set this PD straight.”

  Aunt Fran ran a palm up and down Janie’s back. “The next time they haul me in, they’ll have to arrest me,” she said, “but the attorney seemed confident that wouldn’t happen. Not without more to go on.”

  My stomach dropped. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Someone was throwing chum into the waters, and the police were eagerly taking the bait. Who knew how soon the next falsified or planted evidence would show up?

  Janie tipped her head against Aunt Fran’s shoulder. “In other good news, I think your aunt has come to her senses and decided to stay in the running for mayor,” she said. “It’s wonderful. Charm wants a new, fresh approach to island politics, and Fran Swan is the woman for the job.” She pulled Aunt Fran tight against her side and laughed. “She can hardly say no now. Look at what happened the last time she thought of dropping out.”

  Aunt Fran rolled her eyes. “I hardly think the two are related, but I did have time to contemplate things while I was in jail, and I believe I
could do nice things for this town if it let me.”

  Janie smiled. “Tell us about it.”

  Fran nodded and began to pace. “I could be the voice of the people during council meetings, shutting down otherwise unanimous votes to keep things as they are for no other reason than continuity. Sometimes change is good, and we need to start thinking about how a few targeted changes would help our town.”

  Aunt Clara watched her sister with clear admiration. “What sort of changes?”

  Aunt Fran stopped to face her. “Specifically, our perception and response to tourism, local arts, and the wildlife population. Money from summer tourism feeds many of our local families for the entire year. We treat the summer influx as a hassle, but it helps our citizens live better lives. Not to mention, it could lead to new residents. Adding fresh Charmers to the population would mean gaining new and diversified talents for our community. Also, I want to see our summer arts festival marketed widely and aggressively. It’s the coolest thing that happens in any Outer Banks town, and we hold onto it like it’s a secret. Plus, we treat our artists as if there’s only one week a year when they can be bold about their art. That’s bubkes! We’re an artistic community. There should be art everywhere. Murals on municipal buildings, sculptures on the square. We should be proud. We need to showcase our talents and develop a fund to encourage the arts in our education system. Don’t even get me started on our beautiful maritime forest and abundant wildlife populations. We’re so busy keeping everyone away from our wild mustangs, we’re missing major opportunities to nurture their community and grow their numbers. Wyatt’s got a great plan for both, and I think he can do it with some support, but that would mean changing the way we perceive and respond to the horses too. Right now, no one in the position to permit change will.” She saddened at that.

  I beamed. “You’re going to be an amazing mayor.” No one cared more about our island and every member of its communities—human, animal, or otherwise.

  Janie climbed onto a high chair at a tall bistro table near the deck and crossed long, thin legs at the knee. “I agree. I think we should find a way to reach out to the CFC and organize a rally or something. Get people excited about your campaign again.”

  Aunt Clara made a T with her hands, like a referee at a sports game. “The CFC vandalized Chairman Vanders’s Jeep. Fran should distance her name from a renegade group like that.”

  Fran joined Janie at the table. “Clara’s right. I plan to base my campaign on change, but that group seems like a set of loose cannons.”

  Janie nodded. “I can see that. I guess we don’t need them for exposure.” A coy smile budded on her lips. “At least my BMW’s still dressed for the job.”

  The chimes and jingle bells over my door rang, and I headed back across the room to welcome my guest. “Merry Christmas,” I called, “Welcome to Sun, Sand, and—” I stopped short.

  Wyatt sauntered into view, cowboy hat in hands, broad smile on his lips. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said. “I enjoy a formal greeting.”

  I smiled. “I know you do.” I filled a jar with ice and Old-Fashioned Sweet Tea, then handed it to him.

  He put his hat on the counter between us, winked at me, then tucked a stool beneath him. “You remembered.”

  I shook my head, hoping to look annoyed, despite the blooming smile. “You were just here this week,” I said. “Don’t read too much into it.”

  A trio of men entered behind him. They scanned the area, then joined Wyatt at the counter, exchanging nods and words of greeting. The men ranged in age from early twenties to retirement, and they wore matching nature center polos.

  Wyatt grinned. “I told the guys this was the place to go for homemade lunches, so they agreed to give it a try.”

  I set straws and napkins in front of each man. “Merry Christmas and welcome to Sun, Sand, and Tea.” I smiled at their genuine expressions as they took in the café décor and giant chalkboard menu mounted on the wall behind me. “I’m Everly Swan. I keep twenty flavors of iced tea on tap, and you’re welcome to sample anything you’d like.”

  The oldest man settled a pair of glasses on the end of his nose and peered at the chalkboard. “That’s amazing. I didn’t know there were twenty flavors of iced tea.”

  “There are more.” I grabbed a stack of juice glasses and began tapping the containers one by one. “I can only manage twenty at a time. How about a few samples?” I lined the filled glasses before them and refreshed my smile. “You can do the same with the menu, if you’d rather try a little of everything than a full serving of just one thing. Or I’d be happy to fix you up a full serving of everything.” I raised my palms in surrender. “No judgment here. It’s all delicious.”

  Wyatt leaned on his forearms, hands clasped. “Got any more of that homemade chicken noodle soup back there? We’ve been tracking wild mustangs all morning and could use a little something to warm us up.”

  “You and your chicken noodle obsession,” I teased. I turned to Wyatt’s cohorts. “Does that sound good to everyone?”

  The men nodded. No bells and whistles for them.

  “Homemade soup, bread, and cookies. Coming up.” I took orders for their choice of iced tea when the samples were gone, then grabbed a container of soup from the freezer and a pot to heat it in. I sliced a few fresh loaves of bread while the men chatted.

  I set a warm, yeasty loaf in front of them, then took a second loaf to my aunts and Janie.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, delivering a tray with glasses and a pitcher of tea onto the table’s center. I set the tray of fresh bread beside the first.

  The women dug in.

  “I’ll be back with soup in a few minutes,” I said. “Wyatt and his crew over there just made the request, and I have enough on the stove to feed ten.”

  Aunt Fran smiled around a mouthful of bread.

  I laughed. “Be right back.”

  Wyatt watched me return. His gaze drifted over my shoulder from time to time.

  “What?” I asked, checking behind me as I arrived at the counter.

  My aunts and Janie were leaning toward one another, filling up on bread and tea. Janie glanced our way, then pulled her eyes and smile back to my aunts.

  Wyatt tugged his bottom lip. “I swear I know her from somewhere.”

  “Here we go again,” I said. “You know her from here. She’s lived in Charm a few months now.”

  He scratched the back of his head and frowned. “Nah. That’s not it.”

  I left him to ponder while I ladled hot soup into bowls. By the time I’d served everyone and pulled a chair up to my aunts’ table for a little lunch of my own, the wind chimes sounded.

  I hung my head in defeat. I could always reheat it.

  “Welcome to Sun, Sand, and Tea,” I said, turning to face the door.

  Mary Grace glared at me from the threshold. “I need more cookies.”

  “Super.” I made my way to the counter and grabbed an order form. “What would you like and when would you like it?”

  “I want an impressive spread of your best sweets delivered to the mayor’s office first thing tomorrow. There’s a committee coming in to discuss the possibility of Charm as an historic community.”

  I dared a glance at Aunt Clara who’d told me as much this morning, though she hadn’t known when the meeting would happen. I was surprised it was slated to happen so soon following Dunfree’s death. Another coincidence? Or was the timing significant?

  “I want to impress these people,” Mary Grace said. “If I can get this done for the town, I’m a shoo-in for mayor. I might even be able to force an immediate election given the circumstances.”

  I poised a pen over the order pad. “How thoughtful and selfless of you.”

  “Now, just a minute,” Aunt Fran said, already headed our way. “What’s this about a meeting and why didn’t I know?” />
  Mary Grace scoffed at her. “Gee. Maybe because you were in jail when I spoke with the council this morning. I knew this was on his books, so I reached out and they were willing to come.” She shot a smug smile around the room, making sure everyone present had heard the wonderful thing she’d done.

  Aunt Fran’s olive skin went scarlet, then eggplant.

  Aunt Clara hurried over to mediate. “That’s lovely,” she said. “And now that Fran has been released, she’ll be able to attend the meeting. Isn’t that nice, Fran?”

  Aunt Fran’s left eye twitched.

  “Whatever,” Mary Grace said. “Just make the cookies and charge them to the town. Put them on Vanders’s account or whatever you do for things like this.”

  I stared at her. I had no idea how to charge the town for anything, or if that was even a possibility. “The town doesn’t have a tab here,” I said. “No one does. If you want to place an order, someone has to pay.”

  “Then charge them to Vanders,” Mary Grace said. “He’s the standing mayor. For now.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t charge him without his permission.”

  Her jaw swung open. “This is ridiculous. What kind of operation are you running here?”

  “One where I don’t work for free,” I said.

  Wyatt snorted. The men seated at the counter with him all looked away.

  Mary Grace stiffened. “Fine. Charge me.” She slapped a Visa on the counter.

  “Glad to help out,” I said, scribbling the order and presenting it for her to sign.

  She gave the bottom line a dirty look but signed. “I’ll have Lanita pick them up and deliver them to the meeting in the morning.” She returned the Visa to her wallet and gave Aunt Fran a sideways look. “The meeting starts at ten. Try not to get arrested again before then.”

  “I wasn’t arrested,” Fran snapped.

  It was too late. Mary Grace had already pushed her phone to her ear and started out the door.

  My aunts headed back to their table. Aunt Fran grumbled about the meeting to make Charm an historic town. Too many rules and regulations.