"I am the sole managing trustee," Isabel explained, her voice steady and clinical. "We’ve been keeping the island afloat since then, Penny. Whenever the historical society needed a roof repair or the local marina needed to dredge the channel after a storm, the trust stepped in with anonymous grants.” She watched the surprise in Penny’s eyes. “We structured it through a secondary banking firm in Miami so the Wayne Group would never see our name on the ledger. My parents wanted to protect this town's independence, not own it."
Before Penny could process the revelation, Darius stood up from his booth in a single, fluid motion. Isabel stiffened, watching through the reflection as her brother dropped several bills onto the laminate table, delivered a brief, icy directive to Baxter, and turned toward the exit. He didn't look back. He gave Pete a short, respectful nod as he pushed through the glass front doors and stepped out into the blinding afternoon sun.
"That was fast. Darius didn't even touch his coffee." Penny peeked around the high edge of their vinyl seat, her eyes narrowing.
"He looked furious," Isabel noted, her brow furrowing as she watched her cousin Baxter slide back into the booth, hisexpression tight with resentment. "I don't think Darius liked whatever Baxter and his academic friend had to offer."
"We have to wait until they leave," Penny whispered, leaning back as the young waitress who had been serving the front section walked over to the corner booth. "I want to hear exactly what’s on that recording device before we make our move."
The waitress stood at the edge of Baxter’s table, her shoulders straight, her notepad tucked under her arm.
"Are you still wanting something to eat? Or can I clear these mugs for you?" The server asked politely.
"No, thank you, we won’t be eating," Baxter said, his voice clipped and irritated as he reached for the bills Darius had left behind. He slid them across the table toward her. "We'll just finish our coffees. Keep the change."
"Thank you, sir," the server said, her tone professional but cool.
"Excuse me," Dr. Wineberg interrupted, her aristocratic drawl cutting through the clatter of the diner. She looked up at the server, her manicured fingers tapping the edge of her saucer. "There was a man in here just as we arrived. A tall gentleman with glasses. I believe his name is Owen Reed. Do you happen to know him?"
In the back booth, Isabel and Penny both strained forward, their ears pricked to catch every word.
"She seems remarkably interested in Owen," Penny whispered, her eyes wide. "So there really was something behind that icy exchange when they crossed paths in the doorway."
"Does he live here on Sanibel permanently?" Dr. Wineberg continued, her tone deceptively casual. "I’d like to consult with him on a matter of local historical preservation."
The waitress’s shoulders tensed slightly, a subtle shift in body language that didn't go amiss with Isabel, who had spent years evaluating staff performance for the Wayne Group's boutique properties.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the waitress said, her tone turning decidedly frosty. "I don't pry into our customers' private lives. Dr. Reed is a regular, and we respect our locals' privacy here."
A dead, heavy silence settled over the corner booth for a few seconds. Isabel wished she could see Dr. Wineberg’s face clearly; the composed, elegant consultant was clearly taken aback that a small-town server would speak to her with such blunt indifference.
"I... see," Dr. Wineberg stammered, her voice tightening as she recovered her poise. "Thank you."
"If that's all," the waitress said, already turning on her heel.
"That's all," Baxter muttered, sliding out of the booth and standing up. He offered a hand to Dr. Wineberg, helping her step out into the aisle. "Don't worry about it, Debbi. We have other, more official channels for locating the man’s current address."
"The man?" Isabel whispered as the pair walked toward the front door. "They mean Owen."
"Yeah," Penny nodded, her frown deepening as she watched them leave. "Linda did mention that Owen ran the Sweet Blossom Bay Historical Society the day we met her at the heritage festival."
"I know," Isabel said, her eyes tracking Baxter’s rigid posture as he pushed open the front door. "Look at his shoulders. He’s absolutely miserable about the outcome of that meeting. Darius must have completely shut him down."
The moment the glass door clicked shut behind Baxter and Dr. Wineberg, Pete walked over to the back booth, a wide, boyish grin splitting his weathered face. He reached into his apron pocket and slid a small, silver digital dictaphone onto the table between Isabel and Penny.
"There you go, ladies," Pete said, chuckling softly as he wiped his hands on his apron. "That was the most excitement I've had behind that counter in five years."
"Thank you so much, Pete," Penny said, quickly snapping up the device and dropping it safely into her leather handbag. "We appreciate you helping us verify this."
"As long as this doesn't get my diner into some kind of legal trouble," Pete said, his smile wavering slightly as he looked toward the door. "I know there are strict laws about recording people without their knowledge in this state."
"What recording?" the young server who had waited on Darius and Baxter’s table chimed in, beaming as she walked over to join them, holding a tray of fresh water glasses. "Someone accidentally left a personal vlogging device running on a public table in a busy restaurant? It happens all the time." She shrugged, flashing a brilliant, knowing grin as Pete gaped at his daughter in utter astonishment.
"Actually," Penny said, grinning back at the young woman. "That's a brilliant defense if this ever did come to light. Whichit won't, because this file is strictly for Isabel and me to review before we have a family meeting."
"No problem at all, Penny," Pete's daughter said, her smile growing even wider. "I’m a local lifestyle influencer, so if anyone asks, I was just recording B-roll footage of my father’s establishment for my morning stream. I do it twice a week anyway."
Penny, Isabel, and even Pete looked at the young woman in absolute awe.
