Second Chance at Love

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  On Monday, I could contact the local newspaper and get their ad rates. From the Chamber of Commerce website, I printed a calendar of upcoming local events. I couldn't plan for the ads until I talked with Skye and MJ about possible promotions. For the time being, my entrepreneurial paperwork had come to a standstill.

  Just then Skye arrived at the back door, loaded down with food and supplies. I helped her with some of the plastic bags. As I juggled the parcels, I could see that she’d done a good job of making sure there’d be a lot for my painting crew to eat.

  “You're going to have to quit buying food for everyone, Cara,” MJ said, as she accepted the receipt from Skye. “This habit is costing you a fortune.”

  “I will stop as soon as we get the store fixed up,” I promised her. “Right now, everyone is working long hours. I'd rather pay for food than pay for the overtime.”

  “Have you looked in on the painters to see how they're doing?” Skye asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Are you ready for the big reveal?” Skye asked with a grin.

  This was the moment of truth. I wondered if I would regret arming a troop of teenage boys with brushes, rollers, and paint. I held my breath as we walked onto the sales floor.

  The boys had done a terrific job. The paint had been applied in judicious coats, not too thick and not too thin. Nothing had been spilled. One entire wall was finished. Officer Dooley had obviously been supervising the young men carefully. The color I had chosen visually lifted the ceiling. It also reflected the sunlight streaming through the display windows that were being meticulously cleaned by a boy on a ladder. The kid was using a razor blade to remove any remaining flakes of red paint from the graffiti episode. What a difference the clean glass made!

  I thanked Officer Dooley and his crew members. Skye showed him the bags of food. He clapped his hands and suggested that the boys take a break. As they fell on the meals the way only teenage boys can, I showered them with praise them for their efforts. The Treasure Chest was definitely shaping up. I could scarcely believe my eyes.

  “I have a few ideas for repurposing the other drawers,” Skye said. “I was thinking we could use them as floating shelves in one area of the bare wall space. They will fill the empty space and allow us to display other merchandise.”

  “Brilliant,” I said.

  We turned to see Bobby walk in. Skye explained her idea to him.

  “I can get shelves made and mounted,” he said. “I'll also get all those locks changed for you. I've got them in my truck. MJ told me you needed that done.”

  “We need to hurry,” said Skye.

  “Why? What’s up?” I was enjoying the transformation of the sales floor.

  “You and I and MJ need to be somewhere in fifteen minutes.”

  “Where? You didn't warn me.” I shook my head.

  “It's a surprise. Bobby has plenty to do. Officer Dooley and the boys will keep working. The kids can dog sit. We have to find more merchandise, and you need to come with us while we’re on a materials run.”

  “MJ knows about this?”

  “Of course.”

  The front door handle jiggled. To my surprise, it was Cooper trying to get in. Skye ran over to allow him entrance, because I could only stand there with knocking knees. He and Skye exchanged knowing looks before he said, “Ladies, your carriage awaits.”

  I glared at Skye. What was she up to? She ignored my frown, raced to the backroom, and yelled, “MJ? Time to go!”

  In one hand, MJ carried cloth grocery bags. She linked her free arm through mine and said, “Come on. We've got to move it.”

  “Have a good one,” said Officer Dooley. “We'll keep an eye on everything.”

  MJ and Skye led us to a black Escalade parked at the curb. Cooper opened our doors, ushering me into the front passenger seat. I buckled my seatbelt and avoided his eyes. He reached over and gave my hand a squeeze, as though nothing amiss had happened in his office.

  It was the proverbial “elephant in the living room,” and I felt uncomfortable. We needed to discuss our kiss and Jodi's reaction, but of course we couldn't do that in front of Skye and MJ. I squirmed in my seat for a while. Finally, I surrendered and decided to enjoy the moment.

  “Last night when I stopped in at Pumpernickel's,” he said, “Skye told me what she and MJ had planned. I volunteered to come along as your humble servant.”

  The other women chatted happily, remarking on how cool the car was, how nice the day was, and how much progress we were making at the store. Skye was particularly complimentary about my first efforts at stenciling.

  “Yes, that was fun, and our re-decorating is coming along. Unfortunately, we don't have much to sell.”

  “That's why we're taking this road trip.” Skye handed Cooper a slip of paper. “Here are the addresses for our stops.”

  Following a scenic route north, we drove to Port St. Lucie and parked in front of a thrift store run by the Episcopal Church.

  “Everybody out,” hollered Skye.

  CHAPTER 69

  Inside the thrift shop, we found a variety of interesting items including an old mirror decorated with driftwood. A few pieces of the wood were missing, but Skye was confident she could fill them in. MJ unearthed several old books that would sell well. Cooper found a cool “stuffed” alligator. A little gross, but definitely old Florida. Skye unearthed a box of Ball canning jars that she planned to turn into patio lights.

  Our visit qualified as a delightful treasure hunt. By the time I'd paid for our loot, I was smiling, too.

  Maybe this would work. Maybe it wouldn't. Whatever happened, I was having a blast.

  Using Skye's list as a guide, Cooper drove us from one place to another until he glanced at his watch. Then he pointed the car toward Hobe Sound. At Bridge Road we turned east and drove through an allée of shade trees and over the bridge to Jupiter Island.

  “Ficus,” said MJ. “They were planted fifty years ago. I've heard that replacement trees are being grown nearby because ficus trees don't live long. The residents don't want to see these replaced with small ones. That would spoil the tunnel effect.”

  At the intersection of Bridge and Beach Roads, Cooper turned north. A few miles up the road, we stopped at a small park, and climbed out of the car. While Cooper paid a small fee for parking, MJ fiddled with things that she'd been carrying in the grocery bags.

  “One for each of us.” Skye passed out mesh bags, flip-flops, and plastic buckets. I exchanged my Converse shoes for a pair of bright red flip-flops. MJ passed around a bottle of sunblock and admonished us each to cover our ex-posed skin. “Otherwise you risk wrinkles and skin cancer.”

  “Okay,” said Skye, after we finished with the sun-block. She clapped her hands like a schoolteacher addressing a kindergarten class. “We're going beachcombing, but I have specific items in mind. I want rocks with holes in them. You'll see them here and there. Any shells, any size, any color, especially those with holes in them. Any plastic, especially flat hard pieces. Any driftwood. Of course, keep your eyes peeled for sea glass and sea beans.”

  I had no idea what sea beans were.

  “Those are seeds that have washed up from the tide,” explained MJ. “I'll show you some when I find them.”

  We took the path over the boardwalk and down to the sea where a thick layer of shells carpeted the sand.

  “Low tide, full moon, rough seas,” murmured Cooper, as he walked along beside me. “Perfect for washing up stuff from the ocean floor.”

  Earlier I'd been itching to ask him what happened after I left his office, but now the day was so lovely, I didn't want to spoil it. It was as if Cooper and I had entered a time machine. Suddenly, we were teenagers again. The sun infused my skin with happiness, a feeling that must have been infectious, because my friends acted like kids, too. MJ approached the sand methodically but with a childlike curiosity. Skye ran up and down the beach, darting over to show me a piece of sea glass or a special shell.

  “This,”
she said, “is a hamburger seed. A sea bean. Or drift seed. Lots of names for it.”

  Cooper was drawn to bits of white coral. I picked up every shell I could, regardless of type. I counted myself the luckiest woman on earth.

  We'd been walking about fifteen minutes when Cooper reached down into a pile of seaweed and snatched up something dark brown. “Aha! A seaheart!”

  Opening my hand, he placed the large sea bean in my palm. To my surprise, it was indeed shaped like a heart.

  “I gave you my heart years ago, Cara. Now it's yours once again,” he said softly. “I can tell you're worrying about what happened. Don't. We'll get it all worked out.”

  My own cardiac rhythms went nuts as I looked into his chocolate-colored eyes. “I'll treasure this.”

  CHAPTER 70

  After an hour, we headed back to the Escalade. Cooper hit the unlock button. MJ reached into a cooler and handed each of us a bottle of water. Skye dumped all our findings into a plastic bin. MJ insisted that we all reapply sunblock.

  Our first foray had taken us from south to north along the coast. Skye directed us in the opposite direction. In short order, we happened upon a scattered cluster of wood planks that had washed up.

  “Perfecto!” hooted Skye. “See, Cara? You can stencil on these!”

  “Then what?” I said running my hands lightly over the wood. As I examined the piece more closely, an idea hit me. “I could turn these sideways, we could add ropes, and they would make nifty towel racks.”

  “You're a very creative woman,” said Cooper, with no small amount of admiration in his voice.

  When Skye and MJ had wandered some distance away, I screwed up my courage. “What happened after I left?”

  “It was tense. Look, I'll handle it, but I'll need some time, okay? Jodi told me some things I wasn’t aware of. The situation is more complicated that I realized. A lot more. Let's just enjoy the day, okay?”

  I changed the subject. “Have you checked your emails lately?”

  “No, why?”

  “I think I've found an answer to the problem of Poppy's leaking gas tanks. There might be government funding available to help clean up the mess.”

  “That's the final hurdle to swapping out the Gas E Bait for the Fill Up and Go,” he said. “Well done!”

  “You think that the swap work? Will Poppy's place be okay for the franchise?”

  Cooper nodded. “I'll get the final word next week, but I've been told it shouldn't be a problem. I dropped by to see your grandfather yesterday afternoon, and I offered him a job.”

  “What did he say?” I shaded my eyes with my hand because my sunglasses weren't up to the task of blocking the harsh rays.

  “He told me he had several offers to consider and that he'd get back to me.”

  “What a pill! That old coot!”

  We both laughed.

  “Any progress on the murder investigation?” he asked. “Skye told me about the graffiti.”

  “I wish they'd arrest someone. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I'm worried that people are talking about Hal Humberger's death. Everyone keeps saying what a small town Stuart is.”

  “The public has a very, very short memory.”

  “So people say. Yes, well…” I paused. There was no way that Cooper could know I was reliving the damage that Dom had done to my parents' business. Someday I'd have to tell him what had gone down.

  “I will admit, however,” he said with a frown, “that particular building seems to have a history of intrigue. Hal's death just adds to it.”

  “MJ and I were just talking about the missing Highwaymen paintings.”

  “It was quite a collection.”

  “Where did you get that painting in your office?” I thought back to the beautiful landscape on his wall.

  “Many years ago, when I first got out of the service, I bought a house to rehab. There was a painting hanging on the wall in the garage, of all places. It was a Sam Newton. From then on, I was hooked. Essie guided me as to what to buy. Hal was a collector, too, you know.”

  “Really?”

  “I think he caught the bug from Essie. Although I always thought that Hal was more interested in them because of their investment potential than their beauty,” Cooper said, as he bent down to pick up a nice orange scallop shell. “That brings us back to the store. From what I saw today, you've totally transformed The Treasure Chest. Skye told me last night about your plans to scrounge up merchandise. Getting open in time for the Art Fair is a great idea. That should get you off to a good start.”

  “How do you know Skye?”

  “From having her wait on me at Pumpernickel's. I've never seen her happier. She sings your praises. Tell me, Cara Mia, are you happy? Everyone else involved with your shop seems to be, but I'm curious. How's life treating you?” We'd been walking, but now he stopped and turned to stare into my eyes.

  “Except for a little trouble getting to sleep last night, I've never been happier. At least, not since I was fifteen.”

  And he smiled.

  CHAPTER 71

  Detective Lou Murray stopped by the copy shop promptly at nine, which according to the sign on the door was when it opened. The door was locked. He sat in his car and waited. At nine thirty, he walked over to Pumpernickel's and bought a cup of coffee to go.

  By ten o'clock, he was seriously irked. He tried the phone number on the front window. He called the Chamber of Commerce to try and track down the owner. He called the store only to discover the answering machine couldn't take any more messages.

  Finally, at quarter after ten, a black-clad figure unlocked the front door. Lou hopped out of the car and entered the shop. The clerk had disappeared into a back room.

  “Hello?” He knocked on the counter.

  Out came a teenaged boy wearing smeared eye makeup. The kid's hair was dyed an impossible shade of black, highlighted by red stripes. His face had been pierced so many times that he clanked as he walked to the counter. A surly look told Lou this was not going to go well.

  “Forget handcuffs. You could drag him in at the end of a strong magnet,” Showalter said. “Why would anyone do that to himself?”

  “Is the owner here?” Lou showed the kid his badge.

  The boy reached into his back pocket and withdrew a plastic badge that said, “Sid.” He pinned it on.

  “Sid? I'm talking to you. Where's the owner?”

  “In the Bahamas.”

  “Look. I need information and I need it yesterday.”

  “Okay.” Sid's expression didn't change.

  “You've been shipping a bunch of packages out of here for a man named Hal Humberger,” Lou said, as he leaned closer to the counter, moving into Sid's personal space. He got a good sniff of why Sid was so calm. The kid smelled like he'd been smoking dope.

  “Yep.”

  “Any idea what was in them?”

  “Yep.” Sid didn't in a hurry to share, but he didn't seem reluctant either.

  “What are they?”

  “They're aerial photos. Mr. Humberger had a friend who had a helicopter, and they'd fly over people's houses and take aerial photos. Then he'd offer them to property owners. Get them framed and charge them a bundle. “

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I did the packaging for him. Wrapping them so they'd arrive without breakage.”

  “How often did these go out?”

  “Um,” now Sid had to stop to think. “At first, not often. He didn't know anything about selling on the Internet. I showed him a few tricks with SEOs. Google words. Facebook ads. He got the hang of it. Then he started sending things out three times a week. Sometimes more.”

  Sid might as well have been talking Greek. Lou tried to act like he understood, but the confusion must have shown up on his face.

  “What do you mean? In English?”

  “I showed him how to market his photos on the Internet. Then his business picked up.”

  “Did Mr. Humberger bring these photos in himself
?”

  “No. They were charged to his account, a special one he opened. But he didn't bring them in. Told me he didn't want his wife to know what he was doing. So he had Mr. Potter running errands for him. That guy over at the Gas E Bait.” Sid paused and cracked his knuckles. His fingernails had been painted blue. “At least Mr. Potter did it for a while. Then they got into a fight. After that Mr. Humberger started to bring in his own stuff.”

  “You're sure about this?” Lou pressed the point.

  “Can you trust a boy who wears blue nail polish?” wondered Showalter.

  “Yes, I'm sure. I was here when they got into it with each other. Mr. Potter went ham on Mr. Humberger.”

  “Went ham?” Lou wondered if English was a second language for Sid.

  “Went ham. That means he got up in his face. Got all angry. Said something about Mr. Humberger breaking his promises. He looked like he wanted to kill Mr. Humberger.”

  CHAPTER 72

  Lou rapped politely on the door of Dick Potter's hospital room. In response, Dick yelled, “Yeah?” over the sound of the television. It was exactly the sort of welcome Lou expected from the old man.

  “Brought you today's paper and a McDonald's Double Cheeseburger.” Lou set the peace offerings on the bedside table.

  “Thinking you'll loosen my tongue with that?” Dick Potter's hair stuck up in clumps and he needed a shave, but a healthy pink color had returned to his face.

  “Hope to.”

  “You're a sly demon, Detective Murray.” Dick clicked the volume down on the remote while Lou pulled up a chair.

  “I remember when I was here getting my gallbladder removed. I would have killed for a burger from McDonald's.”