Live and Let Chai

by Bree Baker

  I tapped my cup to his with a pang of disappointment in my heart. I’d hoped I was right about this being a date. Still, I was thankful for the progress on his investigation. Whoever had knocked me out with a perfectly good frying pan should be punished.

  We headed back into the mash of people, my tummy flipping for new reasons now. Grady had a lead that could take him to my attacker. It was the thing I’d been praying for.

  Amelia’s laugh caught my ear and turned me around. I bounced on my toes, looking for her outside her bookshop. She was surrounded by a half-dozen familiar faces, all smiling wildly.

  “Come on,” I said, hooking one of my arms with Grady’s. “There’s my buddy Amelia with a bunch of your new neighbors and friends.”

  He put on a brave face as I dragged him into the little crowd.

  Two hours later, I was exhausted from laughter, having run into everyone I’d ever known in Charm and loving the blessed nostalgia. Grady was witty and pleasant, but clearly distracted. No one seemed to notice but me. Standing beside him, I felt each twitch and thread of tension. He was never in the moment, seemingly hyperaware of everything. He continually scanned the area, for what I couldn’t say, but it made me feel safe for the first time in days.

  Afterward, he walked me to my house, leaving his truck in the grass along Ocean Drive, where he’d been boxed in by others who’d come out to have fun.

  “I had a good time tonight,” I told him.

  “I’m glad. Me too. I can’t say I’ll remember half those names tomorrow, but I’ll try.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if you can’t. You were only half there,” I said.

  Surprise crossed his face. “It was that evident, huh?”

  “To me.”

  Amelia’s Little Library caught my eye. Instinct told me something was wrong. “Hold that thought,” I said. “I want to peek in on this so I can report back to Amelia.”

  The window was dark and I couldn’t see any books inside. Had they all been borrowed?

  I inched closer, bending at the waist and peering inside. “Oh!” I growled, yanking the door open. A flood of sand and seawater washed out, splashing onto my tank top, jeans, and feet. “Ah!” I tried to shut the door again, but the water kept coming, and Amelia’s books fell onto the ground in a ruined heap. “Jerks!”

  Grady handed me a handkerchief before pulling out his phone to capture a couple of pictures.

  A bubble of laughter rocked through me as I examined the crisp white hanky. What could I possibly do with the tiny scrap of material when I looked like I had just washed up on the beach?

  “What?” He tucked his phone away.

  I opened the little cloth in front of my ruined outfit and held it near the dark smear of sand and water for comparison.

  Grady began to laugh, and I started all over again. “Right. Sorry.”

  I linked my arm with his and groaned. “This week has not been my best.”

  He tipped his face down toward mine, glancing at me sincerely. “It hasn’t been my worst.”

  I turned away with a smile. Another round of giggles caught in my throat over my ruined outfit versus his perfect hanky. We continued on in snatches of laughter, though it wasn’t funny at all.

  I used the handkerchief to dry my tears. “We should take a look at the other boardwalk library just in case.”

  “Deal.”

  A hundred yards later, a pair of puffy-haired silhouettes appeared, toting buckets toward the next Little Library.

  I lifted a finger in their direction. “Look! I think those could be the boys I chased last night.” I took a step forward, debating whether I could reach them before they saw me coming this time. At least with Grady, I wouldn’t be outnumbered.

  “Wait.” Grady held a hand in front of me and turned his phone over. “Let them go. I’ll have someone meet them at their next hit.”

  My eyes went wide. “Grady. I think they saw who pushed me in the marsh. They could know who the killer is.”

  He froze for a second, then burst into action, running full speed toward the little vandals. I couldn’t have caught him even on my bike.

  I walked to my porch steps, torn. On the one hand, I wanted to see him take down the little creeps. On the other hand, I didn’t want to still be covered in sand and seawater when he came back.

  Pride won.

  I hurried up the steps, prepared to do a fast wardrobe change and de-sanding. A shadow moved on my front porch, and I started.

  It only took a moment to recognize Lucinda Paine, carrying my cake pan and wearing a frown. “I believe you left this at my house.”

  I squinted at Grady’s now-tiny figure in the distance. He’d be right back. Then he could see it was her that approached me this time and not the other way around. Hopefully, my cake pan appearing at her home wasn’t grounds for that restraining order. “How can you be sure that’s mine?” I hedged.

  She flipped it over to showcase my name written in marker on a patch of masking tape.

  Labeling dishes—my signature move.

  “Oh, right.” I climbed the front porch steps and opened the door. “Won’t you come in for a glass of tea?”

  Maggie screeched up the front steps and into my shop with a hiss, and I pressed a palm to my racing heart. “Ignore her,” I told Lucinda. “She’s just mad that she’s getting a bath.” I announced the second sentence extra loudly into the empty room.

  Lucinda didn’t look like she cared. In fact, she kind of looked like she’d rather push me down the steps than enter my shop.

  I took the empty cake pan. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “No. The walk was hard on me. I figured I might as well wait if leaving meant I’d have to come back.”

  “I’m sorry,” I told her with utmost sincerity. I’d had a great night, and I didn’t want to ruin it. This was my fresh start. “I’m sorry for attending your party uninvited and for rubbing you the wrong way since we met. I wish we hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, but we’re going to be neighbors now, so…” I let the sentence hang. “How about some tea?”

  Her shoulders drooped and her furrowed brows rose with defeat. “Fine, but only one glass, and no funny business.”

  I rolled my eyes as I flipped the lights on inside and let her pass. “Deal. That goes for you too,” I joked.

  Apparently, I’d be wearing my sand-crusted outfit a little while longer. Making up with a crotchety old lady was not exactly how I’d hoped my night would end.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I set a pair of napkins on the counter. Lucinda looked at them with visible skepticism. “You’ll understand if I’m hesitant to try your tea.”

  “Sure.” I bit back a grimace. “But I assure you there’s no reason to be nervous.”

  I filled two jars with ice, setting the cubes afloat with a flood of strawberry tea. I stuck a sprig of fresh mint in each, then set the jars on the napkins. “Maybe you’d like to hear about the history of my iced teas,” I suggested. “It might help you understand why I’d never use my recipes to cause trouble.”

  Lucinda didn’t answer, but remained just inside the door, clutching her necklace in one hand and pressing her big, quilted handbag against her chest with the other.

  I could almost sympathize with her. How would I feel in her shoes? I opened the fridge and stared at the contents. Good food and great tea fixed many things; maybe it could become the foundation for a middle ground between two women at odds. “How about some fresh fruit salad?” I asked over one shoulder. “It’s fantastic with the sweet tea. Might be even better with my Strawberry tea.”

  She shuffled forward reluctantly, but eventually climbed onto a seat at the counter and arranged her purse on top. All in all, it seemed like acceptance to me.

  I prepared two bowls of fruit and joined her. “You see, my family has
been on this island for generations, and the recipes I make today come from them. The foods and teas are part of our legacy. Some say the women of my family have been in Charm since the town was settled. Can you believe that? In three hundred years’ time, there has always been a Swan woman here.”

  “Not really, no.”

  I chuckled at her unbridled snark. “Me, either, sometimes. Other times,” I tilted my head left, then right, “I think, maybe.”

  Lucinda fiddled with her necklace. When she caught me waiting for her to say something more, she waved at the stove. “I like hot tea,” she said.

  “Okay.” I filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove, before turning around and smiling. “Earl Gray okay?” Honestly, I could use the additional caffeine. I was as tired as I’d ever been, and my week had taken a hard toll.

  Her eyes were wide, as if I’d startled her. “Yes. Now go on. You were telling me about your family history here.”

  “My great aunts like to say we moved here from Salem following the witch trials, which were simply too heartbreaking to bear.” I frowned, imagining the horror. “They’d tried to stop the drowning and burnings, but the will of a scared community was stronger than the power of a good cup of tea. The Swans couldn’t stand the tension, animosity, and accusations, not to mention all those young women tortured and lost. For what?” I felt my chest swell with pride as I told the story. Maybe there was a little of Aunt Clara in me after all. “Accusations are powerful weapons, don’t you think?” I tossed a meaningful look in Lucinda’s direction. “I learned that lesson recently.”

  “Detective Hays said the poison was in your tea.”

  “I know.” I gave a noncommittal shrug. “And maybe it was, but I don’t know who put it there. It wasn’t me. Detective Hays knows that now. He said so.”

  “He did?” She raised her brown, penciled-on brows. “Who do you suppose he’s looking at as a suspect now?”

  “I don’t know.” I pressed the tines of my fork into a slice of orange, dodging the little spray of juice. “I didn’t ask, and he didn’t say.” Did he have a new suspect? I’d been so thankful to hear my name was cleared, and so torn up by Sam’s death, that I’d forgotten to ask Grady who could’ve done it.

  Anyway, that was off-topic. “What’s important here is that you know I would never do anything to harm another living creature or damage my family’s name.” I lifted my glass in a single-sided toast and sucked the contents down by a quarter.

  The taste smacked on my lips and tongue. Something wasn’t right. Did the mint and the fruit salad create too much contrast? It wasn’t like me to be wrong on these things.

  “Is something wrong?” Lucinda asked, lifting her drink for inspection and giving it a jostle.

  “No.” I took another long drink to prove it. Then I slid off my stool and went to find something that would go better with the tea. “Do you like almond pound cake?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t try the tea and an orange slice combo like I had. “I made this to go with Hana’s rhubarb jam. Do you know the Goat Lady?”

  She sniffed her tea, then took a reluctant sip, eyes locked on me. “Not really. She’s a farmer, right? That’s not really my thing.”

  I bobbed my head. Lucinda wore the high-maintenance look like a medal of honor. Which was possibly the way I wore my flip-flops.

  I set a slice of pound cake before her. “Another family recipe. The water will be ready soon, if you’d prefer a hot cuppa.”

  “I’m diabetic,” she said, pushing the cake away. “Hot tea will be fine.”

  “Of course.” My throat tightened with memory and emotion as I recalled arguing pointlessly with Mr. Paine. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

  “What’s wrong?” She leaned away from the counter, as if I might be highly contagious.

  “Mr. Paine always asked about the sugar content in everything. I’d assumed it was him who watched his diet.”

  “No.” Sadness drew a path over her tired face, pulling and tugging at the corners of her eyes and mouth. “That’s me.” She wiped the corner of her eye. “He was always fussing about my health, thinking I didn’t take good enough care. It’s part of what broke us up a few years ago.” She drew lines in the condensation on her glass. “I’ve been doing better. He knew, and we were working things out. I was taking care of him more and more instead of the other way around.”

  I pushed my napkin to her, and she dabbed at another escaping tear.

  “Was Mr. Paine unwell?” What did she mean by saying that she had been caring for him?

  Her milky eyes snapped back to mine, grief replaced by distrust once again. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  Honestly? Not my best. The night, maybe the whole week, had taken a toll, and fatigue tugged incessantly at my limbs and eyes. My heart rate hadn’t settled since finding Lucinda on the porch, and my thoughts were more blended than my smoothies. “Fine.”

  “Your cheeks are red and your skin is pale.” She circled a finger at my face. “And there’s some sweat on your forehead.”

  I checked. She was right. I couldn’t see the redness, but I felt the heat then, and my fingertips camp back damp from beneath my bangs. “Tough night, I guess.”

  My phone buzzed with a text from Grady. I grabbed it off the counter and carried it across the room to see what he learned. “Will you excuse me? I just need to check this.” Steam puffed from the kettle on the stove as I passed. “Looks like we’ll have tea soon.”

  I swiped my thumb over the screen, bringing his message front and center, leaning against the far wall on the opposite side of my counter from Lucinda, careful to shield the incoming information.

  Caught the boys. Stay put. I’m headed your way.

  I frowned at the lack of detail. “Just one more minute,” I told Lucinda. “That was Detective Hays.”

  I dialed his number and waited. He’d caught the boys, but who were they?

  Lucinda’s expression was peculiar, but I couldn’t place its meaning. “I hope everything’s all right,” she said, stroking the large blue bauble on her necklace. “Maybe you should lie down now and talk to him later,” she suggested.

  My knees wobbled.

  The phone connected. “Hays,” Grady barked.

  “Hey,” I started. “You can’t tell me half a story. What did they say?” My speech slurred slightly, and I ran a hand over my numbing lips. “Sorry. I’m feeling weird.”

  A drop of sweat slid along my temple to my jaw, then dripped onto my shirt. I braced a hand on the counter in an effort to remain upright. My hazy mind dimmed, and my tongue attempted to double in size.

  “Are you home now?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Lucinda stopped by and I made a snack, but now I’m wondering if last night’s events are catching up with me. I’m so tired.”

  He swore under his breath. “Don’t move.” An engine roared in the background. “I’m three minutes out.”

  My raggedy cat crept along the counter in Lucinda’s direction. Her lips pulled back in a hiss.

  My knees wobbled. Spots danced on the periphery of my vision. “Grady,” I whispered, fear striking against my tightening heart, “something’s wrong with me.”

  “Dammit, Swan,” Grady snapped. “Lucinda Paine shoved you in the marsh that night.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I turned slowly back toward Lucinda, who was still seated quietly at my counter, a small smile on her puckered lips. “Everything all right?”

  “No,” I answered breathlessly. The phone tumbled from my hands. I knelt down and swept it off the floor with bumbling fingers. “Grady caught the kids filling Amelia’s Little Libraries with sand.” The call had disconnected.

  “And he called to report that to you?”

  I nodded, my chest constricting with each move of
my chin. Lucinda had pushed me into the marsh. Did that mean she’d also killed her ex-husband? And Sam Smart? Why?

  Was she the one threatening me all along? The one who hit me with a frying pan? I touched the wrap covering my bump.

  “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.” She clucked her tongue in distaste. “Calling you at home, at this hour. That man has only been in town a week. It’s not very professional.”

  My tummy rolled and pitched. I knew in my core that it was all true. Lucinda had been behind everything from the start.

  She’d killed her ex-husband, and she’d let the town blame me for it while she played the victim. She’d even had the audacity to be mad at me. Now she was sitting in my café, pretending she was afraid to taste my tea and judging Grady for our friendship.

  I shuffled toward her on sheer indignation. “He’s a nice guy,” I said. “We got to know one another while I was being investigated for murder.”

  She pulled her chin back, clearly appalled by the bluntness of my statement.

  I opened my mouth to tell her Grady was on his way for a visit, but the floor tilted and my stomach lurched. I grabbed for the counter with sweat-slicked hands. My head dropped forward and my eyes pinched shut, waiting for the world to stand still again. “You did this to me, didn’t you?”

  Lucinda scooped Maggie into her arms. “I think you’re confused. Why don’t you finish your tea?”

  The sight of my nearly empty jar sent a tidal wave crashing in my gut.

  “You poisoned me with my own tea?” The words were like tiny flares suddenly illuminating the obvious. No wonder the flavor combination had been so off. I never make mistakes like that. I’d been poisoned!

  I tried to raise my eyes to hers, but my gaze caught on her necklace. An age-spotted hand wrapped around the blue bauble.