Bonbon With the Wind

by Dorothy St. James

  “Mama did that. I did one better.”

  “She’s been reading auras forever,” Harley said. He rubbed his hand up and down my back. “When we were dating, she’d decide on whether or not to go out to dinner with me based on the color of my aura.”

  “He used to have a volatile aura.”

  “You used to sneak out of the house to see me,” Harley said. “And your parents terrified me.”

  “Yes, and you were a wild college boy.” She laughed. “Don’t worry, Penn. His aura has settled down considerably now. It’s usually a calm shade of indigo.”

  I looked back at Harley and winked. “That’s good to hear.”

  “I said usually. Right now, Harley, your aura is a vibrant red.” She waggled her fingers at us.

  “And that means?” Harley asked.

  “It means Penn could soon be a very happy woman.”

  “I can only hope that’s true,” Harley whispered in my ear, making me tingle all over and wish yet again that Big Dog wasn’t hiding out in Harley’s apartment.

  We all turned serious when Bertie returned to the living room. She looked upset.

  “What’s wrong?” Althea asked.

  “What now?” Harley asked.

  “Who died?” I asked.

  Bertie hesitated before turning to me. “That was Gibbons. He said someone threatened you today?”

  Trixie and Barbie cheered. I think they were cheering the winner of Wheel of Fortune and not my misfortune. The young man on the TV had just won a new car.

  Harley tensed. “Someone threatened you? Who? How?”

  “It wasn’t really a threat. More like a warning,” I said. “It wasn’t much different than what Gibbons had said not ten minutes later. Both men warned me to be careful around those treasure hunters.”

  “A stranger came up to you and warned you to be careful? That sounds like a threat to me,” he said.

  Althea nodded.

  “Who was it?” Harley asked.

  “One of the ghost hunters, Brett Handleson.” I couldn’t understand why everyone was acting so concerned.

  Harley shook his head. “I don’t know him.”

  “I don’t either,” Bertie said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I told them. “Gibbons said he’d run a background check on the guy to make sure he’s not a troublemaker. To tell the truth, so much has been going on today, I really didn’t give Brett or his photograph of the Gray Lady much thought until now.”

  Althea jumped out her chair. “He had a picture of the Gray Lady? Really? And you saw it?”

  “I saw a smudge on a photograph that looked more like someone’s thumb than a visitor from some other plane of existence.”

  “Oh.” She dropped back into her seat.

  “Penn,” Harley said in his deceptively calm lawyer voice. “I won’t lie and tell you I’m not worried. Everyone knows you’re asking around about Joe’s murder. Maybe we need to turn over everything we know to Hank and walk away.”

  I understood Harley’s concern. Heck, I shared it. “But we can’t walk away. For one thing, I have a reputation. Even if I climbed up on the roof and shouted to world that I was going to stop trying to protect the residents of Camellia Beach from a killer, no one would believe me.”

  “She’s right, you know,” Althea pointed out.

  “I wouldn’t believe anything different,” Trixie said. “Penn, we love you to pieces, but we all know you can’t help yourself when it comes to poking your nose into other people’s business.”

  “You say that like I’m the only one who does that around here,” I complained. “Talking about your neighbors and trying to figure out who’s doing what is an island-wide obsession. There are no secrets in this small town.”

  “Except the ones people are willing to kill to keep,” Barbie said with a nod.

  “Yes, I know that only too well.” Just a few months ago, when asking around about Cassidy Jones’ murder, someone had sent me a threatening note, warning that I’d die a horrible death if I continued to ask questions. The note, I later learned, hadn’t come from the killer, but from someone else in the community who was willing to kill me if I happened to stumble upon whatever secret they were hiding. Had Joe sent that letter? I twined my fingers with Harley’s. “I don’t want to do anything that will cause anyone to get hurt.”

  We all nodded in agreement. Trixie and Barbie nodded and hummed along to the opening music of Jeopardy.

  “Speaking of worrying things,” I whispered in Harley’s ear, “where is Big Dog tonight?”

  “He thinks he knows how to find Sammy Duncan,” he whispered back. “He left about an hour ago to follow up on it. I expect he’ll be back and hungry in a couple of hours.” He then kissed me. It was chaste, and quick, and shouldn’t have made my toes curl, but it did.

  “The two of you loving up on each other is sweet and all,” Althea said, “but it’s not going to help us figure out what happened here during the hurricane and why things are still dangerous.”

  “I can answer your second question,” Barbie said without taking her eyes off the TV. “Whoever killed Joe still hasn’t been able to find the treasure.” With her next breath, she correctly answered a Jeopardy question before the contestants could even hit their buzzers.

  “She’s right,” Althea said. “I think we need to find out as much as we can about this treasure and what Joe knew when he died.”

  “Sounds risky,” Harley said. “There are other issues at play as well. We could follow alternative lines of questioning first.”

  “Like what?” Althea asked.

  “Well, for one thing, we should figure out why Sammy Duncan came to town looking for Joe,” I said and then explained what we knew about him and the stolen bank money that had never been found.

  “We can’t forget about the Gray Lady,” Althea said. I gave her a hard look of disapproval. She held up her hand. “If your theory is correct, and the lady we saw wasn’t a ghost, we need to find out who contacted Joe before the storm and what she told him that frightened him half to death.”

  “You’re—surprisingly—right,” I said. “But with all these threads”—I counted them off on my fingers—“pirate treasure, stolen money, secret identity, and the Gray Lady, that we need to follow, where do we begin?”

  “I don’t know,” Bertie said. “And we’re not going to figure anything out on an empty stomach. Dinner is ready.”

  Bertie, Trixie, and Barbie had all taken turns in the kitchen this afternoon. There had been a few minor arguments over spices. Whatever they’d made smelled absolutely delicious. Althea and I raced each other to the kitchen table. I laughed when I won. Harley came in a close third. (I think Althea tripped him.)

  “Where’s Bubba?” I asked after we’d all found our places around the linoleum-topped table for dinner.

  “I didn’t invite him.” Bertie carefully placed a big tureen filled with butternut squash soup in the middle of the table along with a plastic container of sour cream. The soup’s spicy aroma reminded me of autumn in my native Midwest—the cooler weather, the crunch of dry leaves under your feet, the smell of burnt firewood in the air.

  “You didn’t invite him?” I asked after I’d recovered from the rush of pretty memories. “I thought everything was going good between you two.”

  “It is,” she said. She ladled soup into our bowls.

  “Then…?” I prompted.

  “He doesn’t need to be haunting me every minute of every day,” she said with a sly smile. “He’s not earned that yet.”

  I glanced over at Harley. He’d earned the right, and then some, to follow me around anytime he wanted. In the past year, he’d put his life on the line for me more than once. And he believed in me when no one else had.

  “I’m thinking the same thing,” he mouthed.

  We both chuckled.

  “What?” Althea asked.

  “Sorry.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin, hoping to wipe the silly smile off my face.
I didn’t even know why I was smiling.

  “She took the love potion that she was supposed to pick up for me. That’s what’s going on,” Trixie complained. She folded her arms across her chest. “And now she and Harley are behaving like two hormonal teens. Next time you come over, if you could bring more of that potion, I can really use it. Must be super potent that stuff of yours.”

  Althea turned to me. Her eyes were bright with mischief. “It’s the most potent potion you could imagine.”

  “Althea! You know I wouldn’t take a love potion,” I protested.

  “No? Look at you. And Harley.” She shook her head while I sputtered.

  “I didn’t cast a spell on Harley. That wouldn’t be fair to him…or to me. We’re simply—”

  “Exactly,” Althea said. “I’ve been watching the two of you all night. Anyone with a brain in her head can read the signs. The two of you have fallen in love. And love has got to be the best kind of magic, don’t you agree? It makes you feel all giddy, and also a little sick.”

  Gracious, whenever I was around Harley, I did feel both giddy and queasy. Was that love?

  “Excuse me.” I pushed my chair from the table and then set my napkin beside my half-empty soup bowl. “I…um…need to get some air.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Harley asked as he started to stand.

  Yes, I wanted to say. Yes, I’d love for you to come with me and kiss me and help me pretend that I’m not scared to death because there’s something going on in my heart that’s making me feel as fragile as spun glass.

  “No,” I said. “Stay here. Finish your dinner. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I hurried outside where the cicadas were singing to the last of the sunset and the silvery Spanish moss on the ancient oak trees was swaying above Camellia River’s rippling waters. Stella had darted out the door with me. She sat with her warm, tiny body pressed against my leg. I closed my eyes, breathed, and thought about Blackbeard’s lost treasure while pushing all that vulnerability and queasiness deep, deep down where it couldn’t bother me.

  While I knew I needed to go back inside, I couldn’t seem to convince myself to move.

  “Bertie was sure I’d find you downstairs working with your chocolate,” Harley said after he came out onto the porch.

  Stella growled.

  “Hush, sweet puppy,” I said without turning away from the darkness of the marsh and the wide Camellia River beyond it. Stella jumped up and took a bacon treat from my hand, but I could feel her excited energy as she stood next to my leg. “I didn’t know where to go. I need to be inside with all of you so we can talk about what we need to do next.”

  “That can wait until morning,” Harley said.

  “I can’t talk about us. Am I in love with you? I-I can’t talk about it, or think about, or even—”

  He took my hand and gently turned me around so I was facing him. “We don’t have to talk about anything. I get it. I have my own baggage, remember?”

  With the silence of the marsh, the hum of the cicadas, and the nearness of the man I may or may not have fallen hopelessly in love with, this was turning into one of the most romantic moments of my life. I put my hand on Harley’s strong chest and leaned toward him. He leaned toward me.

  And…

  Stella bit his leg.

  “Son of a—!” Harley shook his leg. I could see he was being careful to avoid kicking my dog who’d just put new holes in yet another pair of his suit pants.

  “Sorry! Stella, naughty girl.” I scooped her up. She wagged her tail and looked quite pleased with herself. “I don’t know why she keeps doing this to you.”

  “I keep tell you that she doesn’t like me,” Harley grumbled as he put a finger through one of the tooth holes in the cuff of his pants.

  “Did she hurt you?”

  “No, just my pants.”

  “I’ll get you a new pair.” Again. “Well, I suppose I should get inside and help clean the dishes.”

  Before I could escape, Harley put his arm across the apartment door. “You know I’m letting Big Dog use Gavin’s room. And I’m sure he’s not returned from his search for Sammy. Plus, when he does get back, he’s more than capable of finding his own way to bed when he comes in.” He swallowed. “I hate thinking of you next door to me, sleeping on a sofa that’s not nearly long enough. Besides, the sisters are talking about staying up late to watch a Newhart marathon. It’ll be hours before you’ll be able to get any sleep.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying come to my apartment and share my ridiculously oversized bed with me.”

  “It’s a queen-sized bed. That’s not ridiculously big by any standard.” My heart started beating a little faster.

  “Well, it’s still lonely in a bed designed for two.” He held out his hand. “No pressure. No expectations for tomorrow. Just you and me and whatever happens between us.”

  If I had taken my time and thought about it, I’m sure I would have come up with hundreds of reasons to not share his bed. So I didn’t think. Not about Joe. Not about greedy treasure hunters. Not even about what my heart might or might not be feeling. Instead, I reached out my hand and let him lead to way to his apartment.

  Sleeping in a bed for the first time in over a week felt like heaven. Make that heaven double dipped in dark chocolate sauce.

  Chapter 19

  Bertie and I came into work early the next morning to make peanut butter cups, crunchy chocolate crispy rice bars, dark chocolate cherry bonbons, and our best seller Bertie’s dark chocolate sea salt caramels. I wore a silly smile on my face. And hummed.

  I never hummed. But this morning I hummed. This aberration from my normal behavior amused Bertie to no end. She teased me in her kind, motherly way.

  Despite our hard work, by opening time we’d only managed to fill less than half of the display counter. I hoped I was wrong, but I suspected we’d run out of candies and have to close early again today.

  At least it was a Tuesday, our slowest day of the week.

  Bertie, satisfied that the shop was all set for the day, returned upstairs to help the Baker sisters. Since the coffee was brewed, I poured myself a cup and stirred a couple of squares of Amar chocolate from my secret stash, and then unlocked the front door. Over the next hour, I served a couple dozen sleepy ghost hunters who had spent another night on the beach hoping to catch sight of a specter. I was surprised Brett Handleson wasn’t among them. I’d overheard several of the ghost hunters commenting rather dejectedly on how they were giving up on finding the gray ghost.

  I was also surprised that Ethel Crump and her friends were nowhere to be seen. I hoped their absence meant Stevie McWilson and his news team were planning on staying away as well.

  As he’d promised, however, Gibbons walked into the shop a few minutes after nine o’clock. He’d ditched the brand-new polo this morning and had returned to wearing one of his starched white suit shirts. A dark gray suit jacket, which matched his pants, was slung over his arm. A serious expression made him look rather fierce.

  “I’m sorry to have to disappoint you, Detective,” I said. “Although Bertie was able to find a source for pumpkins and pumpkin seeds, I won’t be able to get them until Thursday afternoon.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He dropped a heavy paper bag on the counter with a thunk. “These were dang hard to get my hands on.”

  I peered in the bag. “Hulled pumpkin seeds?”

  “Three pounds worth,” he said with a sharp nod.

  “H-how? Where?” I stammered. I couldn’t wait to whip these seeds into pumpkin butter. “You didn’t use your official position with the sheriff’s office to shake down some poor farmer for these, did you?” I joked.

  He tilted his head and gave me a look that made me wish I hadn’t joked about the gift. “My wife’s nephew has a farm in Awendaw.”

  “Please thank him for me. How much do I owe you for them?” I asked while I folded the sides to construct one of our go
ld to-go boxes.

  “It’s on me,” he grumbled. He pulled a card from his pocket. “Here’s his contact information. He said you can call anytime to discuss what else you might need.”

  I nodded. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  Instead of seeming pleased that I’d accepted his gift, his eyes narrowed and the muscles in his cheeks tightened. “I consider you a friend, a friend I care for. What do you consider me to be to you?”

  “A friend, of course. You’ve helped me more times than I can ever repay.” I patted the bag of pumpkin seeds. “You’re one of my dearest friends. I don’t know why you feel the need to ask that.”

  “You don’t, Penn? Really?” His frown deepened.

  He didn’t say anything else. It was part of his detective training. He let silences work for him.

  I knew what he wanted me to say. He’d warned me that he’d return this morning. He expected me to tell him why I was acting so cagey yesterday. I was no good at keeping secrets. But this was a secret that wasn’t mine to tell.

  I sighed.

  Did I talk or stay silent? Whose friendship did I betray? Gibbons’ or Harley’s? Why couldn’t there be a clear-cut answer to these kinds of questions?

  I started to blindly put chocolate candy after chocolate candy into the to-go box for Gibbons.

  Last night, I’d fallen asleep before Big Dog had returned to Harley’s apartment, and I’d left to work at the shop before he’d gotten up this morning. I could truthfully tell Gibbons that I hadn’t seen the man in the past twenty-four hours. But by doing that, I was, in a way, betraying the rules of friendship.

  I folded the ridiculously overstuffed box closed and held it out for him.

  “You can’t bribe me into ignoring whatever secret you’re keeping from me,” he said, even though he took the chocolates and did look pleased to get them. “Also, you’re giving me too much.”

  “Share them back at the station.” I’d give him every chocolate I had in my case if that would make things right between us. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. “If it means anything, I do want to help you.”