“Why, Mike, it’s a mystery, of course!” Alice said with a grin. “You know our Annie. She’s a mystery magnet.”
Mike chuckled. “She surely seems to be. Anyway, I wish I could help you, Annie. That’s a fine piece of woodworking, and I’d hate to see it ruined.”
“Me too!” Annie and Alice said in unison.
“Be sure to bring it by when and if you find someone to fix it, will you? I’d like to know what’s moving around inside there. Odd.”
“I’d be happy to, Mike,” she told him, “and if you think of anyone who might be able to help, would you call me?”
They sipped coffee and chatted awhile until another customer finally came into the store.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Mike said.
He took a couple of steps toward the customer, but turned back to Annie and Alice for a moment.
“I just thought—a jeweler might know something,” he said. “Clock makers and jewelers used to make and repair music boxes too, I think. Try Dave, over at Elliot Brothers Jewelers.”
“That was my next stop,” Annie told him, tossing the empty cup into a nearby trash can. “Thanks for your help, Mike.”
“I don’t think I was much help, but you’re welcome. Talk to you later.”
Back in the Malibu, Alice sighed from her place on the passenger’s side. She took the music box out of the tote bag and ran her fingers across the carved birds on the top.
“I think this is called a wild-goose chase,” she said. “Or maybe running around in circles.”
“It’s a little tedious, I suppose,” Annie replied, “but I’m not giving up yet. I really would love to hear the music—and I’m so curious about whatever is inside.”
“Me too! So … to Elliot Brothers?”
“To Elliot Brothers!” Annie agreed, sounding like someone from an old adventure movie, and she started the car.
White-haired, thin, and dapper, Dave Elliot examined the box in much the same way everyone else had. He made all the same comments, gave the box an affectionate pat, and handed it back to Annie.
Shaking his head, he said, “I fix clocks and watches, but I can’t do anything for you with this music box, Annie. I’m sorry. But I can tell you who’s more likely to help you than anyone else I know: Papa Dexter over at Dexter Cove. He has that little antique shop, and I believe he just might have a collection of music boxes somewhere in all that stuff he’s accumulated.”
Annie had never heard of Papa Dexter or Dexter Cove, but Alice’s exclamation of delight told her that her friend knew exactly whom David was talking about.
“Excellent idea!” Alice said. “I should have thought of him. Oh, Annie, you’ll love the place. Papa Dexter is the only person I know who has more treasures than your grandmother.”
Annie visualized a maze of miscellanea, piles of junk, and heaps of odds and ends. In spite of her eagerness to look inside the music box, she was growing weary of telling the story of the music box and hearing, “Sorry I can’t help you.” Besides, there was still flower gardening to do.
“Thanks for taking the time to look at the music box, and for your suggestion, Mr. Elliot,” she said, shaking hands with the man. “Have a great afternoon.”
She gathered up the music box, and led the way outside. Back inside the car, she said to Alice, “Let’s go see this Papa Dexter fellow tomorrow, all right? I really need to do some gardening this afternoon.”
Alice yawned. “Sounds good to me, Annie. I had such a restless night, and then I woke up far too early this morning, and I’m really tired right now. I don’t have to do any gardening, but I do need to go through my Divine Décor and Princessa jewelry supplies. And I need to check my cupboards for baking supplies. I’m sure I’ll need to make a trip to the market.”
“I have plenty of eggs, flour, and sugar,” Annie told her. “And I think I have a couple of pounds of butter in the freezer. You’re welcome to all I have, because I’m not going to have time to do any baking for a little while.”
“Great. I’ll work up a list of what to bake, and then inventory the ingredients I have on hand. Cookies always sell really well at a bake sale. And cupcakes. And pies.”
“You absolutely have to make—”
“Bread pudding?” Alice interrupted to ask with a friendly smirk. “Mine can’t be compared to what they serve at The Cup & Saucer.”
“I was going to say more of those delightful little cream puffs. But yes, bread pudding too, if you want to. I’ll buy it all, of course.”
Alice laughed. “Annie, you are so funny sometimes.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
She pulled into a parking space next to Alice’s spiffy little Mustang near A Stitch in Time.
“Thanks for going with me this afternoon, Alice. How does about ten o’clock in the morning sound for going to see Mr. Dexter?”
“Sounds good to me. Have fun in your flower garden.” She started to get out of Annie’s car, but paused with one leg out and one in. “Oh, and just in case you’re wondering, I have not forgotten about your mysterious caller. I expect to learn all the details. Soon.” She grinned impishly, and then got out of the car.
Annie hadn’t gotten away with a thing, after all, and she knew Alice could be relentless when she set her mind to it. She grimaced, sighed deeply, and drove home.
6
Annie had her hands in the dirt only a short time when a car pulled into her driveway. The driver honked two short beeps. She straightened and looked to see who had come calling on her. Her heart did a little quiver when she recognized the car of Stony Point’s mayor, Ian Butler. She did not welcome that little quiver and forced it away.
Ian got out of the car, raised a hand in greeting and walked across the grass to where she was sitting, looking grubby and a little sweaty. Why did he have to catch her looking like a fashion reject?
“Hi there, Annie!” he said as he approached.
“Hi there yourself, Ian. Are you here to help me plant these impatiens, or would you rather plant the pentunias?”
He stood, fists on hips, and glowered, but with a definite twinkle in his eye.
“I show up here for a friendly visit, and you want to put me to work immediately,” he said in mock outrage. “Good thing I wore my gardening garb.”
She looked him up and down, noted the neat crispness in his long-sleeved white shirt, the thin, diagonal red stripe in his blue tie, and his immaculate dark blue slacks.
“I’d hate for you to get your wingtips dirty,” she said finally, stripping off her grimy gardening gloves. “Here, give me a hand up, and we’ll have a glass of sweet tea on the front porch, as if we were back home in Texas.”
Ian extended his hand. Annie placed hers in it only long enough to heft her body into a standing position. The warmth of his touch both bothered and delighted her. Certainly she did not want to let her fingers linger against his any longer than necessary.
“One thing about growing older,” she said, laughing, “you don’t bounce up from the ground like you did when you were twenty. Knees are the first to go, I understand.”
“Speak for yourself, ma’am,” he said. “I’m as agile as ever. And this is not gray in my hair. It’s just reflections of light.”
“Hmm,” she said, squinting at his silvery hair. “Yes, of course. I see that now. Thank you for pointing it out.”
They laughed together and walked toward Grey Gables.
“What’s this I’ve been hearing?” Ian asked as they went up the steps.
“Hearing?”
He nodded. “I’ve heard a rumor about you, Annie.”
Annie felt uncomfortable, as if she’d done something wrong. The feeling puzzled her a little.
“He’s just an old friend,” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.
“What’s that?” Ian said, cupping his ear. “You know, hearing is the next thing to go after limber knees and dark hair. But I guess it doesn’t matter if I can’t hear well if your music box doesn’t play.�
��
Heat flooded her face as Annie realized Ian wasn’t asking about Grady. How would he have known about Grady anyway? How would he have found out since she’d told no one? She could hardly believe she was being so daft and shook her head.
Silly, silly woman, she scolded herself. She was more grateful than she could express that Ian had not mastered the art of mind reading. She paused on the path to the house and looked at Ian.
“Oh, you’ve heard about the music box, then? My, word does get around in this town.”
Once her embarrassment faded, Annie realized how quickly the news of the music box had circulated through the citizens of Stony Point. She loved the small coastal town, but the ability of news to travel faster than the speed of light often left her feeling ambivalent and somewhat vulnerable.
“Word travels fast when someone has as many friends as you do, Annie. So tell me about this music box. Is it one of your grandmother’s keepsakes?”
“I guess you could say that. It was in her collection, and it’s such an interesting piece. I want to know more about it, and I really, really want to hear the music.”
“I think that’s perfectly understandable, Annie. Betsy had so many intriguing items in her home. I rather doubt there will be an end to all the interesting bits and pieces you’ll find there.”
“And nearly every one of them seems to have an interesting history behind it.”
They resumed walking toward the house.
“Do you know anything about this music box—where it was made, or what it plays?”
“Not a thing. Alice and I are taking it to Papa Dexter tomorrow. David Elliot said he might know something about it, if it could be fixed, or at least opened. Do you know Papa Dexter?”
“I know him,” he said, nodding. “I’d say if anyone can help you, it would be him. He has collected and maintained more antiques and artifacts than anyone I know.”
“Have a seat, Ian,” she said as they reached the porch. She swept a hand toward one of the old porch chairs. “I’ll get us some tea.”
She returned a few minutes later, with hair combed and a dash of lipstick added to her lips. On a tray she carried two glasses of ice tea and a plate of the small cream puffs Alice had sent home with her. Luckily she had restrained herself from gobbling them all down the moment she got home with them.
“Help yourself to one of these super cream puffs, Ian.”
“Thanks, Annie. I will.” With a delighted grin, he reached for one of the pastries. “These look like something your friend and neighbor might have made. Or did you?”
“No, I can’t take the credit. Alice created them, and they are heavenly. Excuse me while I go get the music box.”
Ian’s eyes lit up when she brought the box out and handed it to him. He examined all sides carefully, as if it were made of glass, not wood.
“Beautiful chestnut, a rather rare wood these days, so I’m sure this is quite old,” he said. “And that carving is exquisite.”
“It is, isn’t it? None of the other music boxes in Gram’s collection are like this one. You’re musical, Ian. Do you know anything about music boxes? Or anything about carving?”
Ian chuckled. “I’m not musical, Annie. I can sing a little, that’s all,” he told her, “and I only wish I knew how to carve like this. More than likely, if I tried, I’d carve my fingertips instead of the wood. Whoever created this box was a true artist.”
“I agree.” Annie sighed. “I just wish I knew how to get inside it. I’d love to hear the music, but I tell you, Ian, whatever is in there is making me more curious by the hour. Alice thinks it might be money.”
“Peggy told me something was inside it. That just makes your mystery even more intriguing, doesn’t it? Alice thinks it’s money, eh?” He held it near his ear and shook it gingerly, and then he lowered it and gave her a grin. “Could be. Sounds like money to me.”
“Really? You think it might be?”
“I don’t know,” he said, handing the box back to her. “It could be a letter. Or a will. Or a poem, or a story manuscript.”
“For that matter it might be a page out of a ‘wish book,’” Annie offered.
“Or a handkerchief,” he suggested.
“Or a dried flower.”
“Or an old scorecard,” Ian countered.
“We’re just so imaginative,” Annie said with a laugh.
“Yes, we are!” he agreed.
“Think about it, Ian. How did whatever it is get in there to shuffle around loose that way?”
“Someone had to put it in, didn’t they?”
“Yes! That’s what has my curiosity in an uproar. It had to have been sealed inside deliberately. And that’s why I don’t think it’s an old hankie, or recipe, or anything like that. I think it’s something important.”
“Something meant to stay hidden perhaps?”
She nodded. “Hidden or stashed, but probably not meant to be stowed away forever. I mean, it’s not buried underground, after all.”
“But, Annie, it just seems to me that if it was hidden or stashed, there must have been a reason of some significance.”
“Undoubtedly. But that was a long time ago.”
“Was it? Do you have any idea how long that music box has been on Betsy’s shelf?”
“Since I was small. And no jokes about how long ago that has been!”
They shared a smile, but Annie sobered quickly when a new idea formed.
“Do you think someone might still want whatever is inside to stay hidden?”
Ian shrugged. “It’s a possibility, Annie.”
Annie did not like the turn of conversation.
“So you like those cream puffs, do you?”
He studied her a moment, and then nodded.
“Of course! They are fantastic!” He held one up, looked at it as if it were a jewel, and he was checking its facets in the light. “Alice really should open her own bakery,” he said, biting into the puff.
“I’m so happy you feel that way, because there is something I want to do, and I need participation.”
He shot a curious look as he chewed and raised one eyebrow.
“Care to enlighten me?”
“I’m going to throw a party, Ian. Actually a cookout, and I’m inviting everyone. Alice is going to display her jewelry and home decor, and—here’s the part you’re going to love—she’s going to provide all manner of baked goods for sale. You will come, won’t you?”
“I’ve never been to a home party for products, but yes, of course! Especially if Alice will have plenty of cookies and cakes and all those artery-clogging goodies for sale. What does one do at these parties? Play games? Pin the Tail on the Donkey? Charades?”
“Actually, I haven’t thought about games,” Annie admitted.
“You might want to think about something like that, in case you need some sort of icebreaker. You know how some parties can be a little awkward at first.”
“But surely not Pin the Tail on the Donkey!”
He laughed. “No. Not that. It’s just a suggestion.”
“Thanks, Ian. I’ll keep it in mind. But truly, my focus simply has been to help Alice … to offer a large place for her use, to sort of give her business a boost.” She hoped Ian did not probe too far; one thing she didn’t want was for Alice to think this was a “pity party” with customers showing up out of obligation or sympathy.
Ian gave her a sharp, measuring look, but then he nodded as if he understood what she did not say.
“Grey Gables is perfect for a large affair,” he said. “Especially at this time of year when it’s too late to be blustery and chilly, and before the weather gets hot.”
“That’s exactly what I thought!”
Ian popped another cream puff into his mouth. They are nearly bite-size, after all, Annie thought with a smile. She nearly laughed aloud at the expression of enjoyment on his face as he chewed.
“How about a band?” he asked. “Live music would be great! They could
set up right here near the porch. Folks might even want to dance.”
“That’s what I thought too!” she said, “I love the idea. Down home we’d have country music at one of these barbecues, but I’m thinking maybe something a little quieter, eclectic maybe.”
Ian nodded in agreement. Then he snapped his fingers and sat straight up. “I know just the band. They’re just starting out, they’re local, and most of all, they are good. They call themselves the Nocturnal Loons, but don’t let that fool you. I think they’ll play during daylight hours too. They have a rather eclectic sound that appeals to just about everyone. You may even know them: Jenny Simon, Rory Flynn, and his brother, Billy.
“Oh, I know Jenny! She works at the flower shop. I’ll call her. Thanks, Ian!”
“You’re welcome. I’m happy to help in any way I can.” He paused, and then added, “One more thing about this party. I want to provide the hamburgers for grilling.”
“Why, Ian, that’s generous of you, but really—”
He held up one hand. “I provide the burgers, or I’m not coming.”
“Well, I certainly want you to attend, so you leave me no choice. Please, bring the burgers. Thank you! And lawn chairs, if you have any. I’m sure I don’t have enough for everyone.”
“Will do.”
They sat in comfortable, companionable silence for a few minutes, and then Annie said, “We were saying a few minutes ago that maybe whatever is in the music box wasn’t meant to be found. Do you think someone would object to it being found after all this time? I mean, whatever that thing is, it’s far too old to cause any sort of a stir beyond interest or blatant curiosity.”
Ian didn’t answer for a moment.
“You’re probably right, Annie,” he said at last. “I guess I’m just … concerned that you don’t get yourself in a position to be hurt by revealing someone’s secret.”
“Someone’s secret? Like what?”
He shrugged.
“A skeleton in the closet, maybe.” He sighed. “Or … oh, I don’t know. I care about you, Annie. You know that. I guess I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“Ian!” she murmured, looking away. One thing she did not want, at least right then—or anytime soon—was this kind, handsome man declaring any tender feelings for her. She had to derail his line of thought.
The Unfinished Sonata Page 5
