“Good boy.”
The mountain lion paused midstep to regard us with flat golden eyes. It was a sculpture of muscle beneath tawny fur, front paw the size of a salad plate held off the ground, nose twitching and mouth slightly open to breathe in the scents around it.
Stepping to the edge of the porch, I called, “Keep moving,” in a voice that was shakier than I liked. It was a magnificent beast, beautiful, and emanating power and grace. I felt awed and honored to be in his presence, but another part of me was terrified.
Not for me. For the white doe.
Its leg came down, and after one long backward look, the big cat disappeared into the undergrowth like smoke.
I let out a breath, closed my eyes, and sent a mental warning to the doe. Silly, I knew, but perhaps she was my spirit animal and would hear me. Besides, I didn’t know what else to do.
CHAPTER 14
BACK inside, I showered and dressed in jeans and a light sweater. As I slipped on a windbreaker, I played the image of the mountain lion over in my mind.
Another sign? And if so, of what?
Dash shot out of the tiny house when I opened the door, and raced straight for the back patio of Scents & Nonsense. When I saw why, I broke into a run, too. Ritter was sitting in a rocker, bundled into a puffy down sweater, wearing jeans and a wool hat that was jammed down over his ears.
He came to his feet, and I folded into his arms.
“When I didn’t hear from you last night, I thought you were angry,” I murmured into his shoulder.
“How could I be angry when I’m the one who bailed on our dinner date?”
I stepped back and examined his face. “You look terrible.” He’d shaved off the beard, but a day’s worth of stubble had replaced it. There were dark half-moons beneath his red-rimmed eyes.
“I don’t doubt it. Haven’t slept since I got back into town.”
“Oh, Ritter!” I pulled him back to the chairs, and we sat down. “You had to work all night?”
He nodded. “Until about an hour ago. Then I headed over here.”
“I wish I’d known. You could have come in and at least had some coffee. You look like you’re chilled to the bone.” I stood again. “Let’s go inside the shop, at least.”
“I need the fresh air,” he said with a smile. “Though if I’d known you were awake . . .”
Reluctantly, I sat back down. “Did you save the project?”
“Looks like it. Had to access backups of the data after the computer corrupted it, and then cobble it all back together. At least we had the backups, though.” Weariness threaded his voice.
“Let me get you some coffee,” I tried again.
“No, thanks. I’m going to head back to Thea’s pretty soon and crash.”
“You should do that right now. You didn’t have to come by. You could have texted. I would have understood.”
He was quiet for several seconds, then said, “I was gone a long time, Elliana. Things can happen when you’re apart that long.”
My stomach clenched. What was that supposed to mean? Had something happened in Alaska? I knew there were several women on the research team, but I’d never gotten so much as a hint of him being interested in anyone else when we’d talked on the phone.
On the phone. God. Like I’d be able to tell.
I took a deep breath. “Are you about to confess something?”
He blinked. “No. Of course not. I’m just saying I understand about you and Tanner Spence.”
I stood. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. There is nothing going on between us. Turns out he might want there to be, but I set him straight last night.”
Ritter searched my face, then seemed to relax. “I was just saying I understand—”
“Stop,” I said. “There’s nothing to understand.”
“Okay.”
Feeling like the clown in a jack-in-the-box, I sat back down.
“So, you’re hosting a memorial for Eureka this afternoon?” Ritter asked.
Happy to change the subject, I nodded. “At four.”
He looked at his watch. “I only met her a few times, but I’d like to come.”
“Of course. Plus, your sister said you’d bring paper plates and napkins.”
“Oh?” he snorted. “Good to know.”
“And then we can have dinner after,” I said.
Nodding, he reached over and took my hand. His skin was cold. Well, it would be—he’d been sitting outside waiting for me since dawn. “Have you heard if the police got a lead on the murderer?” he asked.
“Not that I know of,” I said. “It’s only been a day.” Then I gave him the short version of what I’d been thinking about that morning. I was about to tell him about the mountain lion, but then stopped. For some reason that felt like a secret.
“So you’re investigating.” His eyes searched mine. “Again.”
“Not really. I mean, I guess I’m thinking about the possible suspects.”
“And doing research online. And asking questions.”
“Well, yeah. But Chief Gibbon thinks someone wanted to steal a gold nugget from the museum, even though the nugget was already at the bank. I don’t know if he’s even had a chance to interview Eureka’s family, what with his busy schedule. And Max probably still thinks I hit poor Eureka over the head to get my hands on the Xavier manuscript.”
Ritter raised an eyebrow. “You did say you were interested in that manuscript.”
“I wouldn’t kill anyone for it!” I exclaimed.
He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. But you still want to find it, don’t you?”
“Of course. It made me feel so strange. Say, I’d like to show you something. Would you mind?”
He shook his head, curiosity breaking through his fatigue.
I went back to the house and retrieved the copies I’d made of Alma’s photo—front and back. After a few seconds of hesitation, I grabbed Gamma’s garden journal, too. Back on the porch, I handed him the copies.
He took them and frowned when he saw my likeness. “Where did you have this taken?”
I shook my head. “That’s not me.”
“Huh.” He looked up at me, then back at the photocopy. “She looks just like you. Where did you get this?”
“It was in the time capsule.” I held up my hand at his surprised expression. “It was in the glass case with the Xavier manuscript and the other items that were in the butter churn. Whoever took them apparently dropped it outside the museum. That’s where I found it.” I grimaced. “I shouldn’t have taken it, but it was late, and I was tired, and well, look at her.” I sighed. “Honestly, I wanted to take a closer look. After I made those copies, I took the original to Chief Gibbon.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I bet he wasn’t very happy with you.”
“Not so much, no.”
“So, who is this woman? She could be your twin.”
“Look at the other copy—back of the photo. You can barely make out the name Alma there.”
“Yes, I see it.”
“Now, I don’t know who Alma is, but look at this.” I held out Gamma’s journal, open to the page with the rough sketch of the woman on one page and the drawing of the marigold on the other. He made as if to take it, but I drew back a little. No one besides me and Gamma had ever touched that book, and I felt protective of it. He gave me a puzzled look but put his hand down and leaned forward to see it better.
“She looks like you, too,” he said.
I checked it again. “You think so?” Honestly, the sketch did seem a little clearer today. Something about the angle of the jaw. And yes, she did look more like me than I realized.
“Um, yeah. What’s up with that? Did your grandmother draw that?” He knew I often consulted her garden journal, but he didn’t know the information in it had a tendency to a
ppear when I needed it.
How do you tell your boyfriend something like that?
“I guess so,” I said. “I, er, never noticed it before. Have you ever seen a symbol like this?” I pointed to the brooch at Alma’s throat and its mirror image in Gamma’s drawing.
Ritter squinted. “Can’t say that I have. I bet Maria could help you find out more about it.”
Mental facepalm. “Of course she could.”
He yawned.
“Oh, gosh! I shouldn’t be making you look at this stuff right now. You go get some sleep. I’ll make reservations at the Sapphire for our rain-check dinner—I don’t want to take any chances—and I’ll see you around four. Or come later if you need to. I want you well rested for tonight.” I waggled my eyebrows.
He laughed, then stood. “Sounds good.” He drew me back into his arms. “I’ve really missed this.”
“Me, too,” I sighed, then emphasized my words with a nice, long kiss.
Ritter left, and I heard Thea’s big, mint-colored, step-side pickup start out on the street. I busied myself for the next hour and a half tidying the Enchanted Garden for the get-together that afternoon. Thankfully, the rain and wind hadn’t caused any lasting damage, but I needed to sweep the paths, remove the stray leaves from the fairy gardens, and wipe down the tables and chairs. Then I pruned the hydrangeas, deadheaded the bleeding hearts, and checked the rosebushes for signs of rust or black mold.
When everything looked shipshape, I went in and opened the shop.
I hadn’t seen Astrid, but that happened often enough. When she had to get to work or had an early dog-walking gig, she let herself into the shop and left the daily cookies on the front counter or over by the coffee urn.
But today there were no cookies.
It was the first time she hadn’t brought any in over a year.
I sank down on a rocking chair by the back window and put my head in my hands. A feeling of loss and dread settled into my stomach. I was pretty sure I’d lost Spence as a friend, and now my BFF was even angrier than I’d imagined, though I’d had her best interests at heart when I told her about Dylan’s legal trouble.
I sighed, rubbed my eyes, and lowered my hands to find Dash gazing up at me with worried brown eyes.
“Hey, boy.” I patted my knee.
He rose on his hind legs, put his paws on my knee, and nosed my hand. I ran my fingers between his foxy ears, then bent down and buried my face in his fur. Inhaling the scent of dog overlaid with the sage he must have brushed against in the garden, I fought the urge to cry.
After several seconds, I took a deep breath and straightened. “Thanks, buddy.”
When he broke into a doggy grin and let out a low woof, I couldn’t help but smile.
* * *
• • •
HOPING against hope, I called Maggie later that morning to see if she was interested in coming in before her bartending shift. Normally, I’d have asked Astrid to cover for an hour while I went to the library to research the tree symbol. Today that didn’t seem like such a great idea, though.
“Sorry, Ellie,” Maggie responded regretfully. “I’m watching my granddaughter, and then Harris asked me to come in early for my shift at the Roux. Folks are starting to respond to the early Friday Afternoon Club before the regular happy hour. And if I’m late again today . . .” She trailed off.
“Say no more.” I hurried to assure her. “I’ll figure something else out.”
“I might not be able to make it to the memorial, either,” she said apologetically.
“I’m sorry about that, since you knew Eureka. I don’t suppose Harris would—”
She laughed.
“Right. Well, I’ll stop by the Roux later to pick up those appetizers. Thanks for setting that up with Raleigh.” Raleigh was the chef at the restaurant.
“No worries. I’ll see you later.”
I hung up and thought for a moment. Of course! Quickly, I dialed Larken Meadows’ number.
I was in luck. She picked up on the second ring and said yes before I’d finished making the request.
“Colby is gone for three more days, and I’m going stir-crazy out here with nobody but the dog and the chickens to talk to.”
“I’ll pay you,” I said.
“And I’ll take it. Turns out creating a passive irrigation system isn’t as cheap as you might think. In fact, I’ll help out at the shop as much as you want, Ellie.”
I made a happy mental note of that. “Thanks!”
“And I heard there’s going to be a party there this afternoon.”
“Party? Sort of. For Eureka.”
“You need some help getting ready?”
“Well, the garden space is in pretty good shape, and the weather should be okay,” I said. “We might need to move some chairs and tables around, though. Then there’s coffee and tea . . . yeah, I could use your help. And as long as you’re offering to cover for me, I need to make a trip to the grocery store this afternoon, too.”
“Deal. I’ll be there in an hour. Does that work?”
“Bless you, Larken. You deserve a raise already.”
“Why, thank you! But I don’t know how much I’m getting now,” she teased.
I laughed. “We’ll talk.”
I checked my e-mail next. There was nothing but a sales ad from my favorite essential oil company and an invitation to subscribe to a soap-making newsletter in my inbox.
While customers browsed, I gathered items to fill four orders from the Scents & Nonsense online shop so Larken could create packing lists and pack boxes for a UPS pickup. Then I placed orders for ingredients that I used to make some of the items tourists bought like crazy in the summer—lavender room spray, natural zinc sunblock scented with rose hydrosol, and lemongrass, citronella, and clove essential oils for herbal insect repellent and mosquito candles.
I’d just finished printing out invoices when Larken came in. She smelled like sunshine and lanolin, and exuded earthy healthiness. Her tanned skin was flawless, her peanut-butter-colored hair was plaited into matching Laura Ingalls Wilder pigtails, and her slightly crooked teeth gave her infectious smile character. She wore jeans and a hand-knit sweater over a chambray shirt.
We hugged, and she gave me a dozen extra-small eggs from her newly laying pullets.
“Oh, my gosh. These are fantastic,” I said, admiring the white and blue and brown orbs.
“You just wait,” she said with a happy grin. “I’ll keep you in eggs and veggies all summer. I planted more potatoes this morning, and the tomato seedlings are a foot high in the greenhouse.”
“Mm. Garden tomatoes. I’ll supply the basil.”
“Deal,” she said, and went to stash her sweater in the office.
Handling the carton as if it contained precious jewels, I carried them to my house and put them in the barren refrigerator.
Back in Scents & Nonsense, I reminded Larken about the basics of the register and showed her how to make packing lists for the online orders. Then I called the Sapphire Supper Club. They weren’t open yet, but the owner answered.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. We have a private party tonight. A wedding reception. The dining room will be closed.”
Glad I’d thought to call, I thanked them and considered. Should Ritter and I have dinner at the Roux Grill or the Empire Room in the Hotel California? Because the only other choices were bagel dogs at Willie’s Pool Hall or a mess of chicken-fried steak at the Juke Diner. The Juke had scrumptious home cooking, but the atmosphere was a bit Formica-centric for a celebratory meal. Plus, they didn’t have a liquor license.
My stomach growled, and I remembered that I’d had a terrible dinner and not so much as a defrosted breakfast cookie to soak up my morning coffee.
Harris spent almost all his time at the Roux, and I really didn’t want to have to deal with him w
hile on a date with Ritter. The Empire Room it was. I called and made reservations for eight o’clock, assuming the memorial would have wound down by then.
Larken was helping a man find a gift for his wife’s birthday when I waved to her and went out to the boardwalk. Dash had seemed content hanging out in the garden with Nabokov, so I’d left him there. The copy of Alma’s picture was tucked into the daypack slung on my shoulder.
CHAPTER 15
THE scent of oven-fresh bread that rolled out of the Kneadful Things Bakery as I crossed Corona Street nearly made me swoon. Vowing to make a trip to the grocery store immediately after talking to Maria, I headed inside the bakery. As soon as the door closed behind me, the heady aromas of caramelized sugar, browned butter, and all manner of brightly spiced and earthy herbal notes hit me like a cartoon anvil. I slowed as I approached the counter, savoring each inhalation and feeling invigorated simply by the anticipation of eating one of their overloaded sandwiches.
I chose the daily special: two halves of a giant oozing ball of burrata mozzarella, grilled pancetta, slices of purple and orange heirloom tomatoes, and a thick slather of bright green pesto redolent with basil, garlic, and roasted pine nuts, all sandwiched between two slabs of Texas toast that had been drizzled with a balsamic reduction and truffle-infused olive oil.
I took it with me and ate the whole dang thing sitting on the bench in front of the library, washing it down with sips of steaming French press coffee.
Full to groaning, but feeling utterly rejuvenated, I headed into the library with a list of questions for Maria.
The assistant librarian, Brigitte Jessup, looked up from behind the information desk when I came in. “Hey, Ellie.”
“Hey, Brigitte. Maria around?”
She pointed toward the librarian’s office at the rear of the building and opened the thick bodice ripper she’d flipped closed when I approached.
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