“I’m not gossiping, I’m remembering.Which is something that is precious at my age.”
“You’re only ten years older than me,” I said.
“Yes, but perimenopause has hit hard.I can barely remember my name most days, and I forgot my youngest at ballet the other day.I’ll never hear the end of that.”
I chuckled.
“Mabel,” she whispered, leaning forward.“Are you working that case?I thought Dr.Wainwright committed suicide?”
I picked up a clean towel and started wiping down a counter that didn’t need wiping.“We are looking into a question Josephine had about her brother’s death.”
“I knew it.”She slapped the counter.“Mabel, you’re the worst-kept secret on this island.Half my customers this week have asked me if you’re taking on new cases.”
“Greta.”
“I’m not the one who put you on the front page of theGazette, sugar.Don’t blame the messenger.”
She leaned in.
“Listen.My parents printed every program on this island before they handed me the keys, and they never threw a proof away.Charlotte Wainwright had a memorial program made.I’ve got a copy of it in a box somewhere.If any of that’s useful, you let me know.”
She winked and took a sip of the hibiscus tea.
“Greta,” I said, “you are a menace and a treasure and I love you.”
“I prefer being a treasure, but I’ll take both.The hibiscus is delicious.Bye, sugar.”
The bell chimed her out.
The morning ran on like the tide coming in.
By nine forty the shop was full to the walls.Every table taken, every chair claimed, the line at the counter four deep and patient about it.Carly was running the register like she had something to prove, and Genevieve was clearing empties with the grim focus of a girl trying to fund a trip to the Keys in a couple of weeks.
Bea swept in at the height of it in a turquoise caftan, her red hair piled high and pinned with what appeared to be a brooch shaped like a peacock.
Genevieve had just finished clearing a round corner booth, and Bea gave a group of teenagers a look that had them turning in the other direction before she took her seat like a queen on her throne.
“I’ll have a sidecar,” she said.“Heavy on the orange.”
“It’s nine forty,” I said.
“That’s why I said heavy on the orange.”
I brought her a bright citrus tea and a lemon scone.She accepted it as a reasonable substitute.
Deidre came in a few minutes later looking harried with a tote bag of books.“I’m bringing these back to you, Mabel.Thanks for letting me borrow them.”
“I don’t think those books came from me,” I said.“I’ve never readThe Devil’s Scoundrel.”
“Oh, well, you should,” she said.“I’ll leave them for you anyway.Maybe you’ll learn something.I’ll just take black tea today.No milk and two sugars.I need a little pick-me-up.”
If you asked me, it looked like she’d already had a little bit too much pick-me-up, but I prepared the tea anyway.
Dottie and Hank came in together.Hank in his usual shorts and pulled-up dress socks, Dottie in narrow black pants and a white silk blouse.She held the door for him without making a production of it, and he didn’t pretend he didn’t appreciate it.
“Want your usuals?”I asked them.
“You’re a treasure, Mabel,” Dottie said.
