I stroked Coal's face. "I wish you could talk to me, old boy. What was Gerard like? Was he even nice to you?"
Coal whined and licked my hand. He let out a groan, then slumped over to his pillow and pawed at it before settling down to sleep.
I supposed it didn't matter how much Gerard had loved Coal, because now he was happy with me. And I'd love my big lug of a dog the rest of his days.
15
When I headed over to the cafe the next morning, I found Bo unloading a new shipment of coffee beans in the back room. "This stuff is from my friend in Costa Rica. They're some of the best beans on the planet, and I'll be using them for Taste of our Towns tomorrow," he said. "How about I make us a cup so we can do a little quality control?"
"Sure, that sounds great," I said, ambling over to the doggie section. Summer would be along any minute to drop off our dogs of the day. She'd mentioned bringing a couple of the stray puppies over so we could socialize them a little before we set up for the outdoor event tomorrow.
When Summer strode into the cafe, I had to control my gasp. She was wearing a sleek black motorcycle jacket and trim black pants with brown wedge boots. Her hair was a different color—perhaps her natural color? It was a dark honey blonde that was absolutely striking with her coffee brown eyes. She'd pulled it all back into a sleek, braided updo, and her natural makeup accented her glowing skin.
In short, she looked just as glam as Isabella or any of those other socialites in town.
Milo, who happened to arrive at the same time, let out a slow whistle as he edged around Summer, who was wrangling two frisky puppies on leashes. "Not to objectify you, Summer, but you look so one hundred in that outfit today. And your hair!"
I shot him a look. "You are objectifying her, Milo. Get back to work."
Summer laughed. "I don't mind. It's nice to know DeeDee got this hair color right. I wanted to go back to my natural shade, but it's quite the process when you're starting with purple."
Bo emerged from the back room, bearing a bag of his precious Costa Rican beans. He glanced at Summer, then did a double take.
"Summer!" He fell silent, clearly searching for words. "You look nice."
Nice? That was the best my brother could do?
"Thanks," Summer murmured before hurrying into the dog area, nearly tripping on her active canine cargo.
I took the leashes and walked the puppies, which were adorable. Their faces and coloring looked like shelties, but their fur was shorter.
"Your hair looks fantastic," I said to Summer, not looking directly at her since she was obviously embarrassed. I wondered why she'd dressed up, but something told me it was a capricious idea to impress Bo.
Bo walked over with a couple of coffees. He handed one to Summer, looking right at her as he did so.
She directly returned his gaze. Silent fireworks were going off, I was sure of it.
"Thanks," she said, a smile curving her lips.
Bo smiled back. "Sure." He handed me the other coffee, then walked back to the cafe.
Summer gave a tiny sigh before launching into a rundown on the puppies. She'd only brought the two pups, so I could work with them before Taste of our Towns tomorrow.
"This litter is going fairly quickly, but we still have two left at the shelter," she said. "They look pretty much like this sister and brother, but they're both boys and they're...well, let's just say rowdier."
"Gotcha," I said. "Thanks for bringing the calmer ones." At this opportune juncture, one puppy—I was pretty sure it was the sister—pounced on my shoe like it was a hostile attacker and began to chew the end of it. I picked her up and moved her to the mat overflowing with chew toys.
"High energy dogs." Summer sipped at her coffee, which had finally cooled off. "Wow, this stuff is the bomb."
"I know. You'll have to tell Bo that," I said coyly.
"I sure will." She gave the puppies final pets, apparently not catching the romantic intent of my comment. "Have a great day, Macy."
As she walked back and struck up a quiet conversation with Bo, who happened to be lurking at a table nearby, I smiled to myself. There was hope on the horizon for my brother, if only he'd give up whatever falsely placed loyalty he still felt toward Tara.
After taking a lunch break at my place with Coal, who frolicked happily like he'd reverted to his puppy years, I headed back to the cafe. Glancing around at the packed tables, I realized that Barks & Beans was actually succeeding in every way we had dreamed it would. Soon, we might have to hire more employees. Aunt Athaleen would've been so thrilled that her house was the conduit for our income, and that we were both settled back in our wild and wonderful West Virginia hometown.
The door opened and Isabella's older friend, Mary Anne, walked in. She looked impossibly stylish—I couldn't imagine she was dropping in to pet the dogs in her custom-tailored pants ensemble.
Two tween children were keeping the puppies busy, so I was able to inch closer to the cafe. Mary Anne gripped her coffee mug with bejeweled fingers and sat at a nearby table. I sank back into my chair, trying to look preoccupied with dog business.
A dapper older man walked in and waved at her and she absolutely lit up. Were they married? Could people gaze at each other so longingly after years of matrimony? I felt ill-informed on the inner workings of healthy marriages.
Auntie A's husband, Clive, had died in his early fifties, leaving her with a huge house, no children, and nothing really good to say about the man she'd married. I'd never had the impression she missed him much.
Obviously, our parents had loved each other—after all, Dad lost his life trying to save Mom—but I had no memories of their day-to-day interactions.
The man walked over and joined Mary Anne at her table. She took his hand and they began to murmur together. They were both wearing wedding bands, so it would appear they were indeed married.
The puppies started chasing each other around the doggie area, so I turned to check how things were going. Sure enough, the tweens were egging the pups on in their roughhousing.
I intervened, largely because I couldn't hear Mary Anne's conversation, but also because the entire room felt chaotic. "Let's try to keep it down a little, y'all."
The kids gave me embarrassed grins and settled onto the floor with puppy toys. I tuned back in to Mary Anne's conversation, since her table was within earshot.
"We should go," she was saying. "Oyster roasts are in vogue—Isabella's told me about them. She went to a couple when she visited Savannah last spring."
The man chuckled. "They're going to truck fresh oysters all the way into our mountains?"
Mary Anne gave an earnest nod, oblivious to her husband's ribbing. "Oh, yes. They do bring some shipments to the Greenbrier, so why not to Ivy Hill?"
All my senses perked up at the mention of Ivy Hill, as if I'd bolted down a cup of espresso. I really needed to stop paying attention to that place, but I was still convinced someone who worked there had stolen Coal.
"Everyone we know has been invited, love. I think you'll want to tour their golf course—it's cheaper than the Greenbrier, but I've heard it's nearly as nice. I'd just need to call and RSVP, since it's tonight at seven. What do you say?" She gave a hesitant smile that seemed to say, If you love me at all, you'll go along with this.
I could tell the older man was putty in his wife's hands. He set down his mug and clasped her other hand. "Of course, darling. Whatever you want. An oyster roast will be a unique experience, I'm sure."
Mary Anne started talking, mostly to herself, about clothing options for the oyster roast. My attention drifted back to the puppies.
Should I book a reservation for the event and take Bo along? I could give it a final poke-around for clues as to who took Coal and how they were connected with Gerard's death.
The tweens' parents called them back into the cafe. I commandeered the puppies' leashes, threw on my jacket, and took them for a walk. The lively pups hadn't had a decent nap all day. If anyone showed interest
in adopting them tomorrow, I was going to feel obligated to tell them these were high-energy dogs.
My phone buzzed with a text. The puppies strained at their leashes, but I stood transfixed by the strange message. It said, "Come to the oyster roast at Ivy Hill tonight. I have information regarding your dog."
I tried to look up the name that connected with the number, but my internet search yielded nothing. The person was being cagey.
"Who is this?" I texted back.
The response was fast. "I'm the one Gerard trusted with his dog."
Was the person insinuating that Coal should have gone to them? The puppies shuffled around my feet, nearly tripping me, so I led them through the side door.
My phone buzzed with another text. "Come alone and meet me in the attic at eight."
The mystery person had to be joking. No way I was going to waltz into a meet-up with someone I'd never even met for some kind of vague information about Coal. He'd already been rescued from his dognapper—but maybe this person didn't know that.
"What kind of information do you have?" I texted, sensing a setup.
It took a few minutes for a response. I had just started refilling the puppies' water bowls when my phone buzzed.
"I think I know why someone took your dog. I wanted to talk with you before going to the police."
My mind raced to the metal tag I'd suspected the dognapper had wanted. Did this person know about that? The fact that they planned to go to the police seemed to indicate they were on the up and up.
"Why do we have to meet in the attic? Why not in the open?" I texted.
"Because I'm an employee at Ivy Hill. I don't want to jeopardize my job."
That made sense. I doubted any of the Ivy Hill employees would try to attack me on the grounds with such a crowd outside. And although I didn't trust Katie, she didn't seem the type to go in for all this subterfuge. If she'd wanted to share information on Coal, presumably she would've done so when she'd led me to him.
"I'll be there," I finally texted.
"Straight down the hall, last door in the middle."
I looked up the phone number for Ivy Hill and made one reservation for the oyster roast. Although I was tempted to ask Bo along, the mystery person had said to come alone. I could look out for myself without my big brother hovering around, couldn't I? Besides, I'd take my pocket knife and keep my phone handy in the attic.
Hopefully, I'd unwrap the mystery behind Coal's hidden metal tag.
16
The woman I'd made my reservation with had mentioned several times that I should wear something "warm and casual" to the oyster roast, so I layered my short sleeve shirt with a blazer, then grabbed a jacket, just to be on the safe side. It had been a warm September, and evenings hadn't been too chilly yet, but a weather front was moving through and promised cooler temperatures overnight.
Perceiving I was going to abandon him for a stretch of time, Coal swirled around me as if corralling me. His tail was working overtime, and every time it bopped into my leg, I wondered if I might actually get a bruise.
"I won't be gone long," I assured him. I hoped that was the truth, because I didn't want to be alone with the texter for any extended period. How had this person gotten my cell number, anyway?
As I tucked my knife into my pocket, Bo called from his house. He must've already returned the puppies to the shelter.
With no preamble, he said, "They peed all over the truck. Why didn't I think to put them in the crate before I left?"
I tried to sound relaxed, although I was in a hurry to get out the door. "Sorry. I should've warned you they're little live wires."
"I'll say. You sure you can keep a handle on them tomorrow at Taste of our Towns? The streets are always packed, and I don't want them breaking loose."
"They'll be in the kennel, so it's not like they'll be running free. I'll handle all their potty breaks, food, and toys, so all you'll need to do is get that metal kennel out of Auntie A's shed and haul that over to our booth. I plan to get there at six, so I can set up the dog stuff while you help the others get the food and hot drink area ready. Sound good?"
"Sounds good." He was rustling around his kitchen; I heard the fridge door slam and the clang of a pot.
"I'll let you go, bro. Sounds like you're getting supper ready."
"Charity gave me her beef stew recipe, and it uses maple syrup. I can't wait to try it out. You want me to bring some over later?"
I glanced at Coal, who had given up on corralling me in favor of stretching out full-length next to my back door, completely blocking it. "Uh, no. I'm going to hang out with Coal and watch some old movies." It wasn't a total lie, because I fully planned to hang out with Coal later on and watch movies. I just needed to meet up with some unknown informant at Ivy Hill first.
After saying goodbye to my brother, I did a final check of my appearance in the hall mirror. Apparently, my hair had absorbed all the humidity in my house, leaving its waves fluffed beyond all control. I couldn't wait until fall arrived to dry the mountains out—and my hair.
I pulled it back into a loose bun and stared at Coal, who met my look with an angelic gaze. "You're going to have to get out of my way," I said, not falling for his mask of innocence.
He tried to talk back with a whining growl, but I told him to knock it off and shooed him toward the living room. "I have to do this one thing," I said. "Just one thing, then I'll be back before you know it."
I'd heard of people leaving their TVs on so their dogs didn't feel alone, so I figured I'd give it a try. After all, Coal was going to have to stay by himself sooner or later—my brother couldn't dogsit all the time. I pulled up the old movie channel and Rear Window was showing, so I turned it down in case the commercials got loud. Setting the remote on the counter, I grabbed a pile of Barks & Beans business cards. I figured I might as well take advantage of the opportunity and hand them out at the party. I zipped out the door before Coal could careen back toward me.
Feeling more than a little guilty for lying to Bo and leaving my bereft dog on his own, I hurried to my Honda and whisked away. An oyster roast would be fun, I reasoned. I could schmooze with the locals, hand out business cards and try an oyster or two, then sneak upstairs for the rendezvous with the informant.
The long drive was lit with luminarias that gave a party feel, and a long tent protected tables in the front yard. The tent was draped with hanging strings of lights, and sunflower arrangements had been placed at each table. Ivy Hill had spared no expense when it came to throwing this oyster roast, and I wondered what the motivation was for such a snazzy soiree.
Alice stood by the food table, demonstrating how to use the small knife to shuck oysters. She seemed quite familiar with the process, so I imagined she'd been the one to organize this event.
She caught sight of me and flagged me down. "Macy Hatfield! I saw your name on the guest list, and I'm so glad you decided to come. I was a little unsure if you were happy with your Ivy Hill experience, given that you never returned to my class."
Apparently, Jedi hadn't reported that I'd cut and run on his class, either. That made sense—he wanted to look good for his boss.
"I'm sorry. Yes, my brother and I enjoyed it, but I just needed more one-on-one attention." I grabbed a sturdy paper plate and moved toward the food line, hoping Alice would take the hint and leave me alone.
She didn't. Instead, she got closer and gave me an expectant look. "But you came tonight, so I'm hoping you want to throw your support behind Ivy Hill?"
Our support? Like a bolt, I realized she was talking about Barks & Beans, not about Bo and me individually.
"Oh, yes. We're happy to support your center." I was being overemphatic, but we certainly didn't plan to blacklist Ivy Hill to any of our customers. Unless, of course, my informant gave me some solid accusations against the center tonight. "In fact," I continued, pulling my cards out of my pocket, "I brought some of our business cards, if you wouldn't mind sharing? I'm sure our customer bases overl
ap quite a bit."
Alice seemed appeased as she reached for the cards. "Of course! We'd be delighted. I'll place these on the sign-in table. Thanks so much for coming, Macy."
I turned back to the food table, which was laden with mesquite shrimp, beef kabobs, and all sorts of beautiful side dishes. Servers manned an open-fire grill off to the side of the tent. The roasted oysters were shuttled to the end of the long table, where guests kept busy pulling the meat from the shells.
A man spoke close to my ear. "Think anyone will find a pearl?"
I knew that voice. I turned to face him.
"Dylan!" I was happy to see he'd shown up. "Actually, I've heard it's rare to find pearls in oysters."
The man was dressed exactly how you'd imagine an art gallery owner to appear. His dark corduroy jacket looked equal parts expensive and relaxed, and his unbuttoned denim shirt played well against his ink blue eyes.
There was chemistry between us, all right. At least on my side of the equation.
"I figured it would be interesting," he said, glancing around. "These guests are the type of people who might frequent art galleries. He reached into an interior jacket pocket and produced his own flyers for his gallery. "I thought I could mill around, get the word out on The Discerning Palette, you know?"
I gestured to the pile of Barks & Beans cards Alice had positioned neatly on the sign-in table. "I had the same thought," I said.
Dylan chuckled. "We're a couple of marketing mercenaries, aren't we?"
I grinned and glanced down at my plate. Dylan took the hint. "You go eat," he said. "Your food will get cold. Let me know how the oyster is."
I nodded and found a table while Dylan spoke with a couple of the guests. As I bit into the tender beef, I scanned the party guests. Isabella had just arrived, hanging on the arm of a man who looked to be twice her age. She wore a large hat and shades that would fit in perfectly at a polo match. Isabella's friend Mary Anne was seated at a table with her doting husband.
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