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CHAPTER 7MAGGIE
“Gossip is making the rounds, Maggie,” Mary Carole Adkinson said as she floated around the teal-and-walnut sideboard where I was setting up the coffee service for the Happy Clams.
The coffee shop received a lot of business from private events. In the past I’d set up in schools, churches, wedding venues, hair salons, offices, the beach. Just about anywhere, really. So far the only place I wouldn’t go was on a boat. Not a yacht. Not a pontoon. Not a party barge. If it floated, it was out of the question.
I’d been hoping to be in and out of Delaney Parrentine’s house before many of the other members arrived, but between getting Ava situated at the coffee shop and prepping for this last-minute order, I’d been running late this morning.
I wasn’t the only one.
Donovan had texted earlier. The bakery’s short-staffing issue had caused a delay with the order of scones, muffins, and cookies for the Happy Clams. He’d promised a special delivery to drop the pastries off here as soon as they were ready, which he assured me would bebeforethe meeting was set to begin.
I hadn’t seen him since he’d asked me out yesterday, and I was jittery with nerves, which was all kinds of silly. It was Donovan. Donovan, who I’d known my whole life. We’d made mud pies together. Played tag. Fished. Rode bikes. Hunted blue crabs. Swam—until I no longer went in the water. We snuck out together. Shared secret kisses. Held hands. Watched movies. Dreamed together.
But then I realized that was exactly why I was nervous. He wasn’t some random guy I’d been set up with. This wasn’t a casual date.
“Gossip?” I repeated, hoping I sounded clueless.
While Magpie’s was hands down the best place to hear the latest news in town, it had never been thesubjectof the gossip. Until today. Nearly everyone who’d come in this morning had weighed in on my father possibly selling the coffee shopandhad also quizzed Ava on the mysterious letter that had brought her to town.
It was no surprise at all to me that I had a headache.
A gauzy maxi dress drifted around Mary Carole’s legs as she moved about, adjusting a picture frame, the basket of napkins. “I hear there’s a newcomer in town who’s going to work for Dez and is also working at the coffee shop? Is that true?”
Mary Carole, a retired microbiologist, was the grandmother of thirteen little ones, the oldest in graduate school. She’d seemingly dipped herself in the fountain of youth, because she didn’t look a day over fifty.
I filled a creamer jug. “It’s true. Her name is Ava Harrison.”
Mary Carole’s blond hair was pulled into a fancy twist held in place with a long tortoiseshell comb. Clear blue eyes watched my every move as I set out stir sticks, an assortment of tea, and three airpots—regular coffee, decaf coffee, and hot water. A tiered cake stand sat empty, waiting on Donovan’s arrival.
“She’s from Ohio?”
“Yes.” I rearranged the coffee cups that Delaney, the hostess, had supplied. She’d taken up pottery late in life and had created all the mugs herself. Each was unique, though had the same beachy glazed design—a sandy-brown bottom, swirling blues in the middle, lighter blues at the top, all flecked with gold. Stunning works of art, each of them, and I felt a rush of pride at seeing them.
The first time I met Delaney, I’d been compelled to give her a loop tool, one used for sculpting, from the Curiosity Corner. It had rekindled in her a long-buried interest in making pottery. Now she had a thriving pottery business, and it filled me with happiness knowing I had played a small part in its success.
“Don’t you think someone from within our own community would’ve been a better choice? Someone who’s known your father her whole life?”
Obviously, Bettina had bent Mary Carole’s ear.
“No.” I smiled as sweetly as I could. “Ava is the best person for the job.”
I could only imagine the havoc Sienna would wreak in my father’s cluttered house.
“You barely know her. She could rob him blind.”
“I know enough.” Anyone who met Ava for longer than two seconds could easily see her kind heart shining in her eyes. She’d be more likely to give him the shirt off her back than take his.
Mary Carole smiled, her gaze softening. “I’ve always admired the strength of your convictions, Maggie. At least I can tell Bettina that I tried. If she’s being intrusive, it’s only because she’s worried about Sienna.”
We were all a little worried about Sienna. We’d watched her grow through the years as she spent each summer at the beach with her aunt. After she graduated high school in South Carolina four years ago, she’d been at a loss what to do with herself, so Bettina had taken her in, hoping a change of scenery would be inspiring. And even though she couldn’t seem to hold a job, she’d sure found a place in all our hearts.
“I’ll keep an ear out for anyone hiring,” I said, though most of the town was keeping an ear out already, all of us looking for a soft place for her to land, asafeplace. Somewhere she couldn’t break anything or accidentally hurt anyone.
As I lined up a row of tea bags, I felt Mary Carole’s warm gaze holding steady on me. I glanced at her, a question in my eyes.
She shook her head, laughed. “I was trying to decide whether to mind my own business, but I’ve never been any good at that, so I’m just going to ask flat-out: Is Dez selling the coffee shop? I’ve been hearing talk this morning that he is.”
“He’snotselling.” I needed to print a T-shirt with those words on it, because I did not want to have this conversation ever again.
