by Sofie Ryan
Annika shrugged. “He loved books and old movies, but other than that he wasn’t really into anything, not for very long. He was smart and he was good at everything he tried without having to try very hard. I think he got bored easily. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” Mr. P. said, smiling at the computer screen.
“I saw Chris about three weeks ago. He was in town and we had dinner. He seemed happy.” The smile returned to her face. “He’d had some kind of argument with his sister after their dad died and they weren’t speaking, but he said he was going to see her soon—she lives in Arizona—and try to work things out. And he told me about his nature preserve project. He was so enthusiastic about it. I was hoping that he’d finally found his passion.”
Mr. P. thanked Annika for her help and they ended the call. He closed his laptop and looked at me. “I’m not sure we learned anything we didn’t already know.”
I got to my feet. “Everything seems to lead to that piece of land.”
Mr. P. raised one eyebrow. “Then perhaps it’s time we followed that lead.”
The rest of the day was busy. I spent some time working on the fireplace mantel. It was covered in several layers of paint. The top one was a particularly bilious shade of pea soup green. Underneath it I discovered the top of the mantel had been covered with some kind of faux brick self-adhesive wallpaper that seemed welded to the wood.
I was using a hair dryer and a plastic scraper to remove the wallpaper when Mac came out to the work space. I turned off the dryer and pushed my dust mask up onto my forehead.
“I just wanted to double-check and make sure it’s okay for Avery to start taking pictures of the photos she and Rose framed,” he said.
“How do they look?” I asked.
“Good. Especially the old black-and-white ones of the street in front of the old hotel.”
“I trust your judgment,” I said. “Tell her to go ahead. I’ll be in soon anyway.”
He nodded. “Okay.” I picked up the hair dryer again. Mac paused in the doorway. “I know it’s short notice, but do you have plans for dinner?”
I brushed a stray piece of hair that had come loose from my ponytail off of my face with the back of my hand. “Actually, I do. I’m having dinner with Gram and John—and Liam. But how about tomorrow night?”
“I’m going to Bangor with Glenn to bring back that truck he bought.”
“And Sunday aren’t you helping a couple of the guys get their boats in?” This was crazy. How long were Mac and I going to keep dancing around each other?
“Monday’s no good, either,” he said. “Mr. P. is doing another seminar for seniors at the library about online scams. I’m his guest speaker.”
“And you still have to use your charms on the bartender.” I smiled and shook my head.
Mac looked at me for a long moment. “When this case is over,” he said.
I nodded. “When it’s over.” I turned back to the fireplace mantel.
“I missed you,” Mac said.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “We missed you, too.”
“I mean I missed you.” He gestured in the direction of the shop. “I missed them as well, I did. Rose, Alfred, Avery—all of them—they make life interesting. But I missed you the most.”
I turned to face him again. “When you were gone I felt as though one of my arms was gone. I don’t know how many times I started out here to ask you something before I remembered you weren’t here.”
Mac smiled. “We make a good team.”
“It’s more than that,” I said. “You’re always the voice of reason. Whenever I get involved in one of their cases”—I pointed across the parking lot—“which seems to be all the time, you’re the one who reminds me that Rose and Mr. P. and the rest of their merry band do actually know what they’re doing.”
“And you see the best in people,” he said.
I shook my head. “I don’t know about that. Getting mixed up in the Angels’ cases has shown me the worst of some people.”
Mac tipped his head to one side and studied me. “I know you convinced Liz to push for extending the harbor front plan to include that old warehouse Vince Kennedy’s father owned because he needed the money.”
I looked away for a moment. How did he know that? I hadn’t even admitted my motivation to Liz, although I had a feeling she’d suspected.
“He broke into the shop and you still did that for him.”
I shrugged. “That was a bad time for Vince. He’s not a bad person.”
“Like I said, you see the best in people.” Mac smiled and for probably the hundredth time I thought how that smile could turn my day around and how much I’d missed seeing it while he was in Boston. “Without you in my life, I think I’d probably be a cranky old hermit living in a shack in the woods building a boat in my basement.”
I laughed at the mental image his words created. “You couldn’t be cranky if you tried,” I said. “And I don’t think shacks in the woods actually have basements. As for being a hermit”—I made a sweeping gesture at the shop with one hand—“there’s no way they would leave you alone. Charlotte would be organizing your hovel, Avery would be picking some kind of wild plants to make you a healthy smoothie and Rose would be trying to set you up with every female hermit within a five-mile radius.”
Mac laughed, too. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He ran a hand over the top of the mantel. “I’ll let you get back to work and I’ll let Avery know she can start taking photos.”
“Thanks,” I said, reaching for the plastic scraper.
“Coming to work here is one of the best things that ever happened to me,” he said. He was gone before I could say that him coming to work at Second Chance was one of the best things that had ever happened to me, too.
* * *
* * *
When we got home Elvis immediately headed for the stairs to Gram’s upstairs apartment. “Come back here,” I said. “We’re not going up yet. I need to take a shower.”
He looked back over his shoulder at me and meowed his displeasure.
I took a deep breath and let it out. “Fine then. Go ahead. But you’ll just end up sitting in the hall outside the door.” I pulled out my keys and unlocked the apartment door. Elvis came back down the hall and followed me inside. He didn’t say anything and neither did I.
I kicked off my shoes, hung up my sock-monkey sweater and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I put fresh water in Elvis’s dish in case he was thirsty, too.
He wasn’t. He was impatient, though. He trailed me to the bedroom, making annoyed little grumbling sounds in the back of his throat. I threw a sock at him, or maybe a better way of putting it would be to say I threw a sock in his general direction since it didn’t land anywhere close to him. He gave me a green-eyed stare that was equal parts pity and disdain.
I had a quick shower and pulled on my softest and oldest pair of jeans along with a red-and-navy-striped V-neck sweater over a plain T-shirt. I left my hair down and slipped into my favorite pair of red Keds. I was ready.
Elvis took a couple of passes at his face with his paw. He was ready as well.
Gram folded me in a hug when she answered the door. “I’m glad we could do this on such short notice.” She smiled down at the cat. “Hello, Elvis,” she said. “I’m so glad you could come.”
He murped a “hello” back at her and went inside. He was always on his best behavior when he visited.
Isabel Grayson Scott was taller than average—about five feet seven or so. She had beautiful smooth skin, deep blue eyes and wavy white hair cropped short to show off her long neck and gorgeous cheekbones. She was one of those people who truly was beautiful inside and out.
I stepped into the kitchen and the aroma of rosemary and buttery biscuits wrapped around me. John came in from the living room. I gave him a hu
g.
John Scott was tall and strong with brown hair streaked with gray waving back from his angular face. He was thirteen years younger than Gram. That had generated some whispers when they had first started seeing each other—not that Gram “cared a fig” what people thought, as she put it.
“I started listening to some of the albums in that box you scavenged,” John said to me.
I’d found a box of vinyl records on the side of the road a week earlier when Jess and I were heading home from a weekend flea market. She’d laughed when I put on the pair of rubber boots I kept in the back of my SUV and waded through a muddy ditch to get it.
“So was I wasting my time when I forded that ditch?” I asked. John was the only person I knew with a working turntable and I knew how much he loved the sound of vinyl over digital, so I’d had no trouble saying yes when he’d offered to check out the albums.
He smiled. “Well, I haven’t unearthed a mint copy of the Beatles’ White Album so you aren’t going to get rich, but so far what I’ve listened to is in very good shape. The box couldn’t have been by the side of the road very long. I think you should be able to sell all of them just for the nostalgia value.”
“Assuming John doesn’t buy them from you first,” Gram said.
“If you’re interested in any of them, they’re yours,” I said. The napkins were sitting on the counter. I took them over to the table and put one at each place.
“There are a couple of albums I think I’d like to have,” John said. “But—” He held up one hand. “I want to pay for them.”
“I found them in a cardboard box by the side of the road. I’m not out any money.”
“You find things by the side of the road all the time. And in recycling piles and garbage cans.”
I laughed. “You’re making me sound like a raccoon.”
“Only in the sense that you’re very resourceful,” John said with a smile.
“How about this?” I said. “You can buy the albums you’d like to keep, but I’ll give you the friends and family discount.”
He nodded. “That’s fair.”
There was a knock on the door then. I was closest so I went to let Liam in.
“You beat me here,” he said as he gave me a hug.
“I had a very short commute.” I took his jacket. He’d shaved and the ends of his hair were damp from the shower.
I hung up his jacket while Liam hugged Gram. He shook hands with John. Elvis poked his head in from the living room.
“Hey, furball,” Liam said.
The cat murped “hey” in return and went back to whatever he’d been doing, most likely a kitty version of casing the place.
Liam leaned against the counter. “How was your day?” he asked.
“Good,” I said. “Charlotte sold a set of encyclopedias we’ve had since the shop opened.”
“Do you mean those ones in the old tea chest?” Gram asked. She was peeking in the oven again.
“Those are the ones.”
“Why would someone want a set of old encyclopedias?” Liam said.
I shook my head. “You’d be surprised by the things people collect. But in this case it was a collage artist who bought them.” I poked him with my elbow. “How was your day?”
“Good,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, the boardwalk has been swept and Jess is happy.”
Gram lifted four heavy stoneware bowls from the cupboard. She made a face. “I’m sorry, Liam,” she said. “I should have invited Jess to join us.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. Jess is your girlfriend. I should have included her.”
“Next time, Gram,” I said.
Liam shot me a daggers look.
Gram waved a large metal spoon in our direction. “I know it’s early, but do you know if she has any plans for Thanksgiving?”
“Umm, I don’t know,” Liam said as the color rose in his cheeks.
She smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll call her and ask her myself.”
Liam glanced in the direction of the living room. “Sarah, is that the box of those record albums you found in the ditch?”
I nodded. “John’s listening to them to make sure they’re not scratched or damaged.”
He turned to John. “May I take a look?” he asked.
“Sure,” John said.
As soon as they were out of earshot in the next room I sidled up to Gram and put an arm around her shoulders. “You know, don’t you?” I asked in a low voice.
She gave me a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Know what, sweetie?”
I just stared at her without speaking and after a moment the innocent act dissolved into a smile. “That Jess isn’t your brother’s girlfriend? Of course I know. He thinks he’s great at subterfuge, but everything shows on his face.”
I glanced toward the living room. Liam was reading the back of an album cover. “How long have you known?” I asked.
“From the beginning,” Gram said. “The whole sudden romance thing was just a bit too sudden, if you know what I mean.” She raised an eyebrow.
“Does everyone else know? Rose? Liz?”
“Well, of course they do,” she said.
I leaned sideway against the counter while she reached for her oven mitts. “How long are you going to let this thing go on?”
She gave me a mischievous smile. “I don’t know. Thanksgiving, maybe?” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to out us?”
I grinned and shook my head. “Absolutely not. This is way too much fun.”
Gram dished out the food and I carried the bowls to the table. “I forgot to tell you,” she said, gesturing with her spoon again. “I had tea with Stella Hall last week. They have an offer on her brother’s house. Unless there’s a problem with the financing it will be sold by the end of the month.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said. When Rose had called she’d learned that Stella was out of town for a few days so we hadn’t been able to talk to her yet, otherwise I probably would have heard about the pending house sale.
We had taken on the job of clearing out Edison Hall’s house after he died, mostly as a favor for Gram. The old man had been a bit of a packrat, albeit a packrat who turned out to be pretty well organized. The job had taken an unanticipated turn when Elvis discovered a body on our first day in the house. I was happy to hear that it was finally going to be sold. That had been a horrible time for Stella.
Gram also had made a small dish for Elvis with some shredded chicken and mashed carrots. He licked his whiskers and smiled at her as she set it in front of him.
Liam talked in general terms about the work on the new hotel as we ate. “What’s going to happen to the lawsuit now that Christopher Healy is dead?” I finally asked. “Will it be dismissed?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It could continue with Healy’s executor—whoever that turns out to be—representing the estate.”
“Or the court could decide that Mr. Healy would have provided testimony that was crucial to deciding the case,” John said. “In that case it could be dismissed.”
“Exactly,” Liam said. “At this point no one knows.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense financially to offer to buy the land from the man’s estate?” Gram asked.
“Maybe. But it could take months to settle the estate—a year or more, if Healy didn’t leave a will.”
“Could the executor make an offer to settle the lawsuit?” I asked. “Maybe give Joe Roswell the chance to buy the property for something close to what Healy paid?” I broke off part of a biscuit and ate it. No one made biscuits like Gram.
“I think Joe’s hoping that’s what will happen,” Liam said as he reached for his glass. “But even that will take time.”
“So what’s the rush?”
“The inn was going to be Joe’s next project. His work on the hotel is almost finished. He’s already started to lay people off.”
“So he really thinks this system Robb Gorham is pushing to stabilize the ground is going to work?” I said as I speared a chunk of carrot with my fork.
“Yes, he thinks it’s going to work,” Liam said. I saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “The entire project is based on it working.”
“It’s untested technology. It seems like Joe is betting everything on it working.”
“And you’re suddenly an engineer?”
“No. But neither is Robb Gorham, as far as I know.”
“But he has consulted a geologist and she thinks it’s a viable process.”
“Take a breath, both of you,” Gram said sharply.
Liam looked away.
I set my fork down, took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. This wasn’t going to work. Liam and I may not have been biological siblings but one trait we had in common was our intense loyalty to the people we cared about. I wasn’t going to find out anything useful about the lawsuit or Joe Roswell. In similar circumstances I’d be reacting the same way. “I wasn’t criticizing. I just didn’t want to see you end up working on this inn project and then have the whole thing fall apart because you bought a pig in a poke.”
His lips twitched. “A pig in a poke?” he said.
“I spend a lot of time with Rose,” I said, feeling my face get red. “I pick up expressions.”
Gram and John exchanged a smile.
Liam put a hand to his chest. “I hereby promise you that I will not get involved in any projects that feature pigs in bonnets.”
I made a face at him then turned toward Gram. “Tell me what’s happening with the sunflower window. Please.” We needed a change of subject and I was interested in the window.
“I’d like to hear about that, too,” Liam said, breaking a biscuit in half.
She smiled. “We have enough money raised to meet the Singapore offer. In fact, we have a cushion of about ten percent.”
“Aww, Gram, that’s great,” I said. I high-fived her across the table.
