Live and Let Chai

by Bree Baker

  My eyes stung with relief, shock, and pride.

  Amelia went on. “‘Everly’s Sun, Sand, and Tea is everything we’d hoped it would be. As it should be. Everly was trained at the skirt-tails of the very best. Her grandmother, Hazel Grace Swan, knew how to make simple things magical, and she has undeniably passed that gift to her granddaughter.’”

  “Grandmama,” I whispered.

  “That’s it for today. A nod to Grandma Swan and cheers to you.” Amelia returned my phone, and I shoved it in my pocket. “See, no trouble brewing at all.”

  “Thank goodness.” Especially for the absence of goofy charts and calls for commentary. Just something nice.

  A college-aged woman in pigtails and short-shorts appeared at the counter. “Sweet tea, frozen lemonade, bottled water?”

  “Thanks.” We accepted the order, and headed for the door.

  “I can’t believe the blog mentioned my grandma,” I said, nostalgia tickling my nose and making me sniffle.

  Amelia held the door while I passed through, balancing my water and tea. “Everyone knew your grandma. We all know your great-aunts and we know you. Swans are like unspoken island royalty or something.”

  “Since when?” I hugged the bottled water to my ribs and popped the top off the tea for a sniff.

  “Since always.” Amelia raised her eyebrows. “Are you kidding?”

  “No.” I lifted the tea to my mouth without interest. I could tell by the smell and color that it was a powdered mix plus approximately ten pounds of cane sugar. “No one’s ever said or done anything to make me believe they think our family is more than a little weird, definitely not special in any particular way. In fact, I always liked how everyone was treated the same in Charm.”

  “Hmm,” Amelia pursed her lips. “Maybe you never noticed because you’d never been treated any differently before now.” Amelia pumped her straw up and down in her drink. “This blog coverage will go a long way toward helping all this blow over, plus I saw you talking to people in town yesterday. They’ll like that too. It was hard for them when you came home and kept to yourself for the first month or so. Confusing. Like, were you glad to be here, mad about being here? Leaving? Staying?”

  I’d had no idea anyone cared. I was so wrapped up in trying to fill the hole left in my heart, buying my dream house and launching a new business. “Yeow.” I smacked my lips. “Now, this is some sweet tea.”

  “Good?”

  “Nope. This is definitely not my competition, but now I’m interested in visiting that specialty shop you mentioned. That could be fun.”

  “Perfect. It’s on our way to the outlets.”

  I tossed the tea in the trash. Too much sugar made me break out, and frankly, I didn’t need anything else to worry about.

  Amelia wrapped her lips around the straw of her drink. “This is so good. What was wrong with your tea?”

  “It was just sweet. No real flavor and no depth.”

  “Sounds like my ex.”

  I laughed as we rounded the corner back toward Amelia’s car, gulping water between giggles. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Wyatt had gotten away. Things would’ve been monumentally worse if I’d figured out where I stood with him after an engagement, or worse, a wedding.

  I took another chug of water, washing the taste of sugar out of my mouth. My attention drifted back to Ocean Dreams. A yellow sign on the door read OUT TO LUNCH.

  Strange. We had just come out of there.

  Amelia shrieked and I followed her gaze to her pretty red convertible, whose windshield was spattered with white goop.

  “Oh no!” She jogged toward her car. “What the heck do they feed the birds around here?”

  I stopped at her side, about ten feet from the vehicle.

  “Is that sun tan lotion?” she asked. The familiar scent of coconut and palm oil drifted on the breeze. Then I saw that someone had used the lotion to scrawl letters on the windshield of the car.

  Stop snooping. Or else.

  I pressed the cold water bottle against one temple. “Yeah, and I don’t think that message is from the birds.”

  Chapter Nine

  The threat put a damper on our trip, so we called for a rain check on the shopping and rode home in silence. The coconut scent of or else wafted over me for the full twenty miles, despite a thorough scrubbing at the closest gas station and a drive-through car wash. The sunblock had slid off Amelia’s windshield with ease, but it had seeped into my mind, and I doubted I would be able to wash it away anytime soon.

  I had to tell Detective Hays about this, and he would hate it.

  Amelia made the turn into Charm with care, her hands at ten and two, her eyes glued to the road as if she anticipated danger ahead.

  “Can I make you some lunch?” I asked. “It’s the least I can do. My snooping wrecked our day.”

  “You already paid for the car wash. Don’t worry about me.” She pried her weary gaze off the road and gave me a quick once over. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” I lied. I’d rationalized my way into acceptance during our quiet drive. “It’s not as if I was ever in danger,” I said. “Whoever left that note knew where I was. They could’ve made a move to hurt me, but they didn’t.”

  “I don’t understand how anyone knew we were in Duck,” she said, clearly as baffled as myself.

  “Not just in Duck,” I added. “Someone knew you’d parked in the lot outside Ocean Dreams.”

  Amelia chewed her bottom lip. She flicked her gaze in my direction before fixing it quickly back on the road. “Do you think Lucinda could have snuck out and left that message on my windshield while we were getting drinks?”

  “I don’t know.” I’d considered that scenario when I first saw the writing on the glass, but it seemed impossible. Lucinda would’ve had to have been watching when we arrived, but she was nowhere near the front when we first walked inside.

  Amelia frowned, then her eyes went wide. “What if someone followed us there from Charm?”

  I pressed tired fingertips to throbbing temples. “I hope not.” The last thing I needed was a killer following me everywhere I went to go with the rest of my bum luck. “Sam Smart was the one who’d pointed his finger at Lucinda, so he could have linked me to her or even to her store’s parking lot, but I didn’t tell him when I planned to talk to her. In fact, he was acting so weird that day, I barely got her name and location before he rushed me off.”

  “Did you tell anyone else about our trip?” she asked.

  “Just my aunts. How about you?”

  Amelia’s cheeks darkened. “I might’ve told a few people we were going to the outlets today, but I never mentioned Duck, Lucinda, or her store. I swear.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, dropping my hands from my temples. “Going shopping shouldn’t have to be a secret.”

  She looked my way again, sincere blue eyes drowning in apology. “I’m sorry you’re going through this,” she said.

  “I’m sorry you got dragged into it this time,” I answered.

  Amelia gave a small smile. “I’m still really glad you’re back.”

  “Me too.”

  Amelia snuck glances at me as we rolled slowly through town. “I can’t believe no one saw anything. Everyone we asked about the vandalism looked at us like we were crazy. How did they all miss a person writing on my car with a bottle of sunscreen?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed. “Duck is pretty touristy. Chances are that everyone we talked to was from somewhere else. Distracted. Focused on their vacation and family. They probably wouldn’t notice anything that didn’t whack them on the head.”

  “I’m glad you thought ahead enough to take a couple of pictures with your phone. All I could think about was getting the sunscreen off my window.”

  I knew Detective Hays would want to see the note, but I cou
ldn’t bring myself to call and drag him out to Duck, so a picture seemed like a solid compromise.

  The midday sun beat against my head, lifting a line of sweat on my brow. “I’m exhausted.”

  Amelia parked in the sand and grass lot beside my place. “So am I. It’s the stress.”

  My café door was propped open. Laughter and Beach Boys music spilled through the screen. “What on earth?” I said, leaning over the dashboard for a better look.

  “Looks like you’re going to have to put a pin in that nap. You’ve got guests.”

  I squinted up the steps toward the buzzing of voices. My aunts had keys to the place, but they’d never used them. “If this is a break-in, the burglars are pretty obnoxious.”

  “Everly!” Aunt Fran appeared and picked her way over the sand, barefoot and slowly navigating the incline to my yard from the beach. “There you are.”

  A man in round glasses followed her, one hand at the small of her back.

  “Here I am.” I nearly fell over in shock. I hadn’t seen either of my great-aunts with a man since I was a child and they were still married. Since then, both uncles had succumbed to separate unique and untimely demises.

  Happily-ever-afters simply weren’t in the cards for Swan women, it seemed. Sometimes the men died and the women lived long, lonely lives without them. Other times, the men died and the women followed soon after with a broken heart—like my mother. Either way, it stunk.

  This guy had rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to the elbows and the cuffs of his slacks were bunched above his knees. His suit jacket hung neatly over one crooked arm.

  I dragged my gaze back to Aunt Fran. “What’s going on?”

  “This is Henry, a new friend of mine.”

  Ah, the Civil War general Aunt Clara had told me about.

  Henry extended a hand to me. When I accepted it, he lifted my fingers to his lips and kissed them instead. Fran watched with obvious approval.

  I took my hand back and pushed it into my pocket, certain I’d never get the feel of his mustache off my knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Henry. This is my friend Amelia. Aunt Fran, you know Amelia.”

  Fran marched to Amelia’s side and squeezed her in a one-armed hug. “I certainly do. I attend her Sassy Sixties Book Club on Tuesdays. How was Duck? Did you have a nice time?” She frowned, then checked her watched. “Wait a minute. It’s barely lunchtime. I didn’t expect to hear from you until late tonight. What happened to shopping?”

  Amelia made a deep, throaty noise. “Something crazy happened. You’ll never believe it.”

  I lifted a finger, requesting a hold on that particular conversation, preferably until I was somewhere else. “Aunt Fran, you haven’t told me what’s happening up there.” I pointed to my café. “Please tell me there aren’t more people touring my home.”

  Aunt Fran shook her head. “Nothing like that. A few folks at the town meeting seemed to be on the fence about your innocence in Mr. Paine’s murder, so Clara and I are putting their minds at ease. Apparently there’s a rumor saying you came back from college a little cuckoo.” She circled a finger around her ear and crossed her eyes.

  “I’m not sure that’s a rumor,” I said, rubbing my painfully tense neck and shoulders.

  Aunt Fran snorted. “They think you set up your tea shop to exact revenge on the town in some sort of ill-conceived notion.”

  “Jeez.”

  Henry chuckled. “I guess you aren’t very good at mass revenge. Only one victim.”

  I looked to Amelia for help. Was this supposed to be funny? “So, people are up there sampling my tea to see if it kills them?”

  Fran waved a hand between us, unable to speak through a bout of giggles. She turned me around by my shoulders and steered me toward the steps.

  “Hey.” Something else registered in my cluttered mind. “What town meeting?” I craned my head for a look at Fran’s red face. “Is that where everyone was while I was in town with my wagon trying to give away my samples?”

  Amelia mounted the steps behind us. “There was a blog notice to meet outside the Nature Preservation Society yesterday.”

  My heart pumped erratically. Darn it, I had to start checking that blog. “Was the meeting about me?”

  Fran squeezed my shoulder as we arrived outside the party. “I don’t think so. I was a little late. I had to help Henry with his Civil War invitations, and Clara was here with her group from Kitty Hawk. We missed the beginning.”

  “I went,” Amelia said reluctantly. Her voice was a shallow whisper. “I should’ve said something sooner, but it was so ridiculous.”

  “What did they say?” Panic rose in my chest and throat. Why did I feel like a mob was about to light torches and run me out of town?

  “The meeting was about Mr. Paine,” Amelia said. “They needed to pull together some details for a town-wide memorial. You were just a side topic. Some of the older folks believe that thing about it being bad luck for Swans to leave the island. That’s why they wondered if you came back a little wackadoodle.”

  “The curse,” Fran said.

  My mouth fell open. Again with the curse.

  I wiggled free of her grip, my frustration boiling to a head. I needed time to think about the threat on Amelia’s windshield and to pull my thoughts together. More than that, I needed to make a good impression on the people in my café despite the fact that I was dangerously close to a nervous breakdown.

  The café door sprang open, and Clara waved us inside. “Wonderful,” she cooed. “You’re here.” The brim of her large white hat bounced gently with each step.

  A dozen semifamiliar faces turned to stare as I entered. Everyone seemed a little overdressed for an iced tea shop: beach casual was the whole point, but I tried to just be happy they were willing to give me a shot.

  I lifted my hand hip high and smiled. “Hello.”

  Aunt Clara ushered us to the counter. “When our usual customers stopped coming to Blessed Bee, I made a call or two,” she said. “I wanted to be sure they weren’t ill, that they didn’t need anything. As it turned out, they simply had a few concerns about what you do here at Sun, Sand, and Tea.”

  I blinked through the sting of her words. “People are boycotting your store now? Because of me?”

  “No, no. Not at all,” Clara soothed. “Grown people make their own decisions. Anyway, when I heard about their questions, I offered to bring them over and show them around your café so they could see for themselves. I hope it’s okay we let ourselves in. I was just about to set out a selection of your teas.”

  I forced a perky smile to cover my frustration and anger. They were avoiding the aunts’ store now too? For what purpose? I imagined the ridiculous blog content posted before the lovely piece on my grandma. It probably examined my diet or upbringing. Something polite but pointed enough to make anxious folks fear shopping or eating honey. Raised by beekeepers, and a man died outside her home. Coincidence, or something more? Charmers, chime in! How much honey do you eat?

  “It’s so nice to see y’all,” I said with as much forced merriment as I could muster. “Thank you for coming. I hope you’re having a good time so far. Have you seen the view from the deck? It’s a great place for a glass of tea.”

  Most folks managed a smile. All looked expectant and curious.

  I slipped behind the counter and grabbed my leftover flyers. Aunt Clara had told me once that locals just wanted the truth. I hadn’t been very social in the month or so after I came home, before opening Sun, Sand, and Tea, more like broken-hearted and mopey. Then Mr. Paine died, rumors started, and the only ongoing news source was an anonymously run blog. I almost couldn’t blame them for their confusion.

  “I’m having a party here tomorrow night, and everyone is invited. A grand opening. I want a chance to reconnect with Charm and introduce you to some more of my family’s best recipes. I hope
you’ll come.” I moved around the room with my most congenial smile, putting paper into each hand. Pull back the curtain, I thought.

  Amelia took a flyer. “Thank you. I’ll be there. Right now, I’m going to go home and take that nap for you.”

  I clapped her on the shoulder, wishing I could go too. “You’re a true friend.”

  The music grew louder behind me, and I turned back to find Aunt Fran and her friend Henry dancing to “Kokomo.” For a lady who thought the Swan women were cursed in love, she certainly didn’t seem concerned about Henry’s impending death.

  “Here you go,” Clara called. She lined my counter in clusters of iced tea jars. “Samples! Help yourselves.” She moved little paper tepees in front of each bunch. The flavors were written neatly in purple ink.

  The group silently exchanged glances.

  Her smile slowly faded. “Well, help yourself. Don’t be shy.”

  When no one moved, Clara looked to Aunt Fran.

  My tummy churned. After the day I’d had, I really needed a thread of hope. People couldn’t seriously think I’d hurt someone—could they? Until that moment, I’d hoped the town’s standoffish behavior would soon pass, that it was no more than the grown-up equivalent of Everly has the cooties.

  Tears stung my eyes at the realization that this was so much worse than I’d imagined.

  Hurt crossed Fran’s pretty face. She marched to the counter and grabbed the nearest jar. “This one has always been my favorite.” She sucked down several gulps, then smiled at the group. “Mmm.”

  The guests traded strange expressions. When Fran didn’t fall over and die, a handful of them moved in her direction, mumbling under their breath to one another and carefully selecting a sample for themselves. To my great relief, they sipped, then smiled.