~~
The bell chimed on the door of Althea’s ruined crystal shop as we entered. The workers Bertie had found were nearly finished rebuilding the back wall. Althea was packing up her inventory in boxes while Bertie pushed sand into piles with the broom.
“It looks like things are coming along nicely,” Harley said with a satisfied nod toward the new wall.
“That’s why I’m sweeping,” Bertie said. “The only way sand can get in now is through your office.”
“Did the insurance adjuster show up today?” he asked.
“He did,” Althea said. “Thank you for lighting a fire under him, Harley. He said I was originally scheduled for a visit next month.”
“Glad to be able to do it. I’ve been spending most of my time on the computer and the phone these days trying to help everyone in Camellia get the help they need. Plus, getting the ball moving here helps me too.” He pointed to the ceiling. Blue-tinted sunlight streamed in through gaps in the ceiling, reminding us all how Harley’s office had been completely destroyed.
“Well, he took tons of pictures,” Althea said. “Now that everything has been documented, I can box up the inventory and store it someplace cool and dry. Hopefully, I’ll not lose my entire stock.”
“The crystals should be okay,” I said. “They’re just rocks.”
Althea glared at me.
“I mean, that’s something, right? Something you won’t lose. I know some of them are worth quite a bit of money. But they’re tough.” I began to sweat a bit. Ever since the rift between us, I seemed to constantly say the wrong things around her.
Althea continued to glare.
I held up the plate in my hand. “I brought brownies.”
Althea leaned toward me. “Brownies?”
“I baked them.”
“You baked…?” She sounded disappointed. Everyone on the island knew my limitations in the kitchen. I’d burned enough baked goods to stink up the shop and half the island.
“I can bake brownies,” I assured her.
“They smell delicious,” Harley added. “But she won’t let me taste them. She said they’re all for you.”
The corner of Althea’s mouth tilted up. She set aside the waterlogged book she had in her hand. “Is that so?”
“She was quite adamant,” he insisted, which made me blush.
I didn’t want her to think I’d gone too far out of the way for her. I didn’t want her to think… Well, I wasn’t sure what I didn’t want her to think. I’d simply wanted to bake her brownies. As a treat. As a small act of kindness.
“You made these? For me?” she whispered.
She took the plate and breathed in the scent of Amar chocolate blended with the rich, creamy sweetness of the brownies.
“They don’t smell burnt,” she said.
“Don’t tease her,” Bertie scolded from across the room. “Penn might not give herself enough credit, and her talent in the kitchen might be raw and untrained, but at times it rivals Mabel’s.”
I gaped at Bertie. Was she serious? My grandmother was a freaking artist in the kitchen. True chocolate connoisseurs used to travel from across the country to taste her truffles and bonbons.
What did I say to that? Compliments made me wary. People gave compliments—otherwise known as lies—when they wanted something from me.
Bertie didn’t want anything from me.
Tell her, thank you. Just say thank you already, a voice in my head shouted.
“Um, thank you,” I muttered.
Bertie gave a satisfied nod.
By this time Althea had the plastic off the plate. She bit into one of my brownies. And moaned with pleasure.
“Good gracious, Penn,” she said as she chewed. “Why have you been hiding these from us? They are amazing.”
“I make them whenever I need a pick-me-up. And I thought you might need one too,” I said, feeling exceptionally pleased to see her enjoying them.
She reached for another one.
“Can I have one?” Harley pleaded. “Please, Althea. I need a pick-me-up too. My office isn’t even there anymore.”
She chuckled and pretended to horde them before relenting and handing him one.
He took a huge bite before she could change her mind. He closed his eyes and smiled. “Heavens, Penn, this is good. Why haven’t you been selling these in the shop?”
Bertie, still holding the broom, came over and took one from the plate. Althea, by this time, had eaten four and was about to bite into her fifth. Harley had also reached for another one. It was a good thing Bertie had taken one. At the rate Althea and Harley were devouring them, the plate would be empty in no time.
“They’re right,” Bertie said in a no-nonsense tone. “You should be selling these in the store. They’re good.”
“But they’re not part of Mabel’s recipe book,” I protested.
“When has that stopped you?” Bertie asked. I struggled whenever I tried to follow any of my grandmother’s recipes. Much to Bertie’s chagrin, I spent most of my time combining different flavors instead trying to master any of the shop’s most popular recipes.
I shrugged as if their praise meant nothing. “Once we get a wholesaler making deliveries again, I’ll add the ingredients to our order.”
On the inside, my heart danced a crazy jig while also banging a jazzy drumbeat against my chest.
“Go ahead, Penn,” Bertie said after she finished the brownie. “Smile and enjoy it. No one is going to take our praise away from you.”
“That’s right,” Harley said. He tossed an arm over my shoulder. “We all think you’re amazing.”
Part of me wanted to smile and enjoy the moment. But the old part of me—the part that would probably always be broken—put the brakes on that.
“If you think I’m so amazing, why won’t you let me help you get workers in here? Why do you fight me when I have contacts with contractors and workers?”
Harley’s arm around my shoulder tightened. “Honey, we do love you, but you have to agree you don’t have a good track record when it comes to hiring workers.”
“I don’t have a good track record? W-what do you mean?” I stammered. How could Harley suggest such a thing?
“Well, you don’t,” Bertie said bluntly.
Before I could react, Harley quickly added, “You have a good heart and you want to help people, but when it comes to finding the best person for the job, you’re not very good at it. Maybe it’s because of that sweet heart of yours. I don’t know.”
“You’re crazy.” I spun around, planning to walk right out of Althea’s shop. They’d lost their minds. All of them. If they didn’t want my help, fine by me. No, it wasn’t fine. I stopped and turned back toward them. “I hired Fletcher. He’s the best chocolate shop assistant anyone could hope to find. He does things before I even ask him.”
Harley cleared his throat. “You hired him only because you thought he was guilty of murder, and you wanted him close so you could gather evidence against him.”
Well, I had done that. “But it turns out he is priceless in the shop. And he hadn’t killed anyone.”
“How about the assistants you hired when I was out of commission with a broken leg?” Bertie asked. “There was the young woman who nearly burned down the entire building. The young man who thought sugar and salt were interchangeable. The older fellow who had no trouble helping himself to samples from the cash register. The silly girl who—”
“Okay, okay. A few bad apples.” I interrupted. She was right. Those temporary workers had been horrible. “But that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of helping.”
“You want me to hire Johnny Pane.” Bertie threw her hands in the air in a spurt of frustration. “Johnny Pane, for goodness sake. He still hasn’t finished the Chocolate Box’s paint job. And he’s been painting in there for months.”
“He’s meticulous,” I pointed out.
“He’s slow,” Bertie said.
“He’s steady. And reliabl
e.” How could they not see that?
“I’m an old lady, Penn. I’d like to see my building repaired before I die.”
“You’re not that old,” I scoffed.
“But Johnny Pane is that slow.” She wagged her finger at me.
Well, shoot. She was right. Johnny Pane was the slowest painter on the planet.
“I do want to help.” I sincerely did. “But you don’t want my money. And you don’t want me to get people out here to help rebuild. I don’t know what else I can do other than bake a few brownies, and that’s not nearly enough. Tell me how I can help.”
“You can keep coming around,” Althea said. “You don’t have to prove your worth to us. You don’t have to buy our friendship. You already have it.”
Harley nodded his agreement. “However, I could use some help with decorating as soon as we get all the walls up and the roof rebuilt.”
“I can do that.” The tension in my shoulders eased just a bit.
“As soon as I get everything boxed up,” Althea said as she reached for another brownie, “we can start searching for Blackbeard’s treasure in earnest.”
I liked how that sounded. It was as if things were finally normal between us again.
“After all, Penn,” she added, “the Gray Lady has made it clear that we should be the ones to find it.”
Yep. Normal.
Chapter 23
“Don’t get upset with me,” Althea said in place of a greeting that night when I opened the apartment door and found her standing on the other side. It was a warning that would have had me putting up my hackles if I were a dog. As if sensing my discomfort, Stella leapt down from her comfortable perch between Trixie and Barbie and charged my friend as quickly as her swollen little belly allowed her, growling and snapping her tiny jaws.
“Um…why should I be upset?” I scooped up Stella before she could sink her teeth into Althea’s ankle. “You know I’m a pretty laidback person. Very little upsets me.”
Althea laughed. “Good one, Penn. I hope you keep that sense of humor when you see who I brought with me.”
“Who did you bring? You mean”—I drew a long breath—“you brought a date for dinner? Of course I’m not upset about that.” Althea acted more gun-shy about dating than I used. “Your mom took a quick trip to Bunky’s to pick up a few extra things for dinner. She should be home any moment. You know how she always cooks more than enough, so one more won’t be a problem.” I poked my head out the door. “Who is he?” I searched the empty porch some more. “Where is he?”
“I didn’t bring a date.” She took a long breath. “I…um…it’s about the Gray Lady. I’ve been thinking some more about that woman who you saw coming into my shop on Sunday, the woman who disappeared as soon as she came inside. And then we found the gold coin.” She pulled the coin from her pocket. “I think the Gray Lady left it there for us to find, like a clue. Like she wants us to find the treasure.”
“I suppose she also left the stinky dead starfish at my shop’s door. I wonder what kind of clue that was meant to be,” I snapped, completely contradicting my claim of being slow to get upset.
She patted my arm. “Come on. He’s downstairs.” Without waiting for me to agree, she jogged down the stairs.
I followed her. Of course, I followed.
“This is Penn,” she said to the tall African American man standing at the base of the stairs.
He wore his silver hair in long dreadlocks that were tied back in a red-and-white bandana. His jeans were worn through at the knees. His plain white T-shirt looked so crisp it must have come straight from the store. And he had no shoes. The lack of shoes made me wince. The ground around here was littered with sharp sandburs just waiting to attack the bottom of an unsuspecting foot.
His soft brown eyes seemed to see through me. He tilted his head to one side. A kind smile pressed to his lips. “Ah lawd, she is the spittin’ image of her gran’,” he drawled.
“Penn, I’ve been telling Uncle Kamba about Joe Davies and the Gray Lady and how you might have seen her outside my shop. And how my shop was gutted, but nothing happened to your shop even though you saw her that morning on the beach too.” Althea had said this all in a rush.
Uncle Kamba was a root doctor, which, I’d learned from Althea, were the local equivalent to a voodoo priest or witch doctor. I didn’t know much more beyond that, because I hadn’t listened too hard when Althea had tried to explain it all to me. Honestly, I preferred to think of her uncle as someone who specialized in tree diseases than someone who sold voodoo dolls and love potions.
“I didn’t see the Gray Lady,” I said, sounding surprisingly reasonable. “I saw Delilah talking with Joe Davies. He was the one who’d lied to us and told us that she was a mythical ghost.”
While Althea rolled her eyes, Uncle Kamba hooked his hands behind his neck and nodded.
“Besides which, Harley’s office was destroyed, and he didn’t see the Gray Lady. How do you explain that?” I asked her.
“There’s no way to control a tornado,” Althea said. “It couldn’t wipe out my shop without taking Harley’s office with it too.”
“No way to control a tornado—that’s exactly my point,” I said a little too triumphantly. I calmed myself before adding, “The storm caused the damage, not a ghost.” Stella, who I was still hugging to my chest like a security blanket, nipped my hand. My dog trainer had told me more than once that my little dog needed to feel in control, she needed to have her feet on the ground instead of restrained in my arms. Even though she wasn’t on a leash, I set her down. It was do that or risk having her turn into a little alligator chomping at my hand.
“Don’t bite anyone,” I told her and handed her a little piece of bacon as an incentive to behave. She swallowed the bacon whole, barked at Althea a couple of times, and then barked even louder at Althea’s uncle.
With an odd expression on his face, he crouched down to get closer to eye level with Stella.
“Um, I wouldn’t do that,” I said at the same time Althea warned, “She bites!”
“This lil’ bit? She’s got the fire of hades in her, don’ she?” He made a soft shushing sound and held out his hand.
I clicked my tongue and clapped my hands, hoping to catch her attention before she nipped one of his fingers off.
Stella ignored me. Her wild-eyed gaze was latched on to her latest prey. She jumped toward him. And—
(Now, I don’t believe in magic. Of. Any. Kind. However, if I were to start believing in the supernatural this would be the moment it happened.)
Instead of nipping at Kamba’s outstretched hand—a game Stella thoroughly enjoyed—she rubbed her head against his open palm and licked his thumb acting like she was a friendly sort of dog who enjoyed greeting strangers.
“Did you smear bacon grease all over yourself before coming out here?” I demanded, only half-joking.
“Nah.” He looked up at me and smiled the same wide grin I’d often seen Althea give me when she wanted me to believe the unbelievable. “I speak dog, tho. She jus’ needed to know I weren’t no threat nor a giant oaf who’d accidentally trip over her fragile body.” He patted the ground. “Come. Join me. I’ll teach you what I’d done.”
Since I honestly wanted Stella to lick hands instead biting, I crouched down beside him.
“Well”—Althea backed toward the stairs—“I’ll leave the two of you to talk.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts or magic,” I warned him. “But I do want to know how you bewitched my dog.”
“Eh, she’s a small soul trembling in a large world. All I did was show her that we’re all small souls. Now, she and me, we’re on the same level.”
None of that made sense, but he was looking at me as if it should. Sometimes Althea would do that too. And whenever I’d pressed her to explain herself, she’d spouted some mumbo-jumbo nonsense that would make me cranky. Since I was already at the edge of crankiness, I simply nodded and reminded myself that I was working with a talente
d dog trainer and making strides in improving Stella’s behavior.
“I suppose you also want to tell me that the Gray Lady is real,” I said instead, getting to the heart of why Althea’s uncle had left his small island home that could only be reached by boat.
“Don’ matter what I say. I can tell you’re not going to listen,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “So let’s talk about something else, like your mother. You’ve been communicating with her.” He said it as a statement of fact.
I shook my head. “No. My mother doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’ve been giving her space. She’s not been in my life…ever…so it’s not like I’m really missing anything.”
“Is that so?” He tilted his head to one side. “But she’s reaching out to you. Texting you?”
I shook my head. “Peach has been texting me.” I’d received several texts from her just that morning. “She wanted to make sure I was safe during the storm. And then she checked up on me after the storm to ask about the shop.” The niggling thought that perhaps Florence had asked Peach to send those texts returned.
“I see,” he said. “Unfinished business, that. One day, you’ll have to face it.”
“There’s no rush. It’s not as if I’ve been pining away for a mother. And it’s not as if Florence has a maternal bone in her body. It might be for the best that she hasn’t been part of my life.”
He scratched Stella behind the ear. “She’s a pretty little one. They tend to get too much attention, them pretty ones. It makes them quail from all that attention.”
Was he talking about Stella or Florence, or both? I could see how Althea was so taken with her uncle and talked about him so much. While I didn’t like that he claimed to be magical, his knowledge of how people, and creatures, thought was something I craved for myself.
“Tho I know ya’ don’ believe in her, are ya’ ready to hear what I came to tell you about the Gray Lady?” he asked, the soothing cadence of his voice had captured me in an invisible snare.
“I know she doesn’t exist,” came my automatic reply, but my voice didn’t hold any of its usual bite.
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