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“I’m a woman on the edge.”
“I know.” He said it softly, so softly I almost didn’t hear him, even though his breath stirred the hair on my head. “But”—he glanced over his shoulder at the house—“right now there are witnesses. So, perhaps the murder should wait?”
There were several faces in the window watching us, being openly nosy.
“I’ve got to run. More deliveries. And since you’re planning on killing me later, I’m just going to go ahead and do this now.” He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. A soft kiss. Gentle. One full of hope and promises.
Then he hotfooted it to his van, got in, and drove off.
I held my hand to my lips, then threw a quick look back at the house and saw all the women cheering.
Lord have mercy.
I gave them a quick wave, hopped in the golf cart, and headed back to the square, wondering the whole way there why my lips were still warm and tingling, but knowing exactly why they tasted of chocolate.
Thanks to an iridescent paint additive, the Mother of Pearl jewelry shop sat like a lustrous white pearl in the middle of the storefronts that made up the east side of the square. It was sandwiched between the Salty Southerner, a margarita bar and tapas restaurant that didn’t open until four, and Stitchery, Estrelle’s shop, which seemed to be open only when it struck her fancy. To the right of Stitchery sat Magpie’s.
I angled the golf cart into an empty parking spot in front of the jewelry store. Even though the shop was closed at the moment, I knew Javier would be along in the next ten minutes or so to open for the day. According to my father, his wedding band was here, being resized. I’d know soon if that was the truth. Or if he’d lost the ring, like I suspected.
While I waited, I glanced around the square. The wind blewgently. The birds sang loudly. Butterflies flitted. It was Tuesday, so Redmond was leading a yoga class on the green, and there was lots of stretching and lunging going on. Across the square several people were dining on the patio of the Break an Egg diner. The church parking lot was full of cars and golf carts—most likely belonging to participants of an early Bible study class. Tourists walked from shop to shop, peeking in windows of the stores that weren’t yet open.
Soon my gaze drifted to the coffee shop, to the hanging shop sign above the door. On a white wooden board,Magpie’swas spelled out in a simple black font, and a magpie was perched on the wide hook of the lowercaseg. The bird wore a pink barrette, just like the one I used to wear in my hair when I was a toddler.
In my mind’s eye, I tried picturing my mama sitting at her desk sketching the logo, but the image was fuzzy. I drew in a sharp breath, wishing my memories of her weren’t fading.
Wishing she’d come home.
The coffee shop had been her dream. A place for people to gather, to sit, to sip, to while away the time. I tried to imagine the shop gone and Rose and me working different jobs. Tried to imagine a different shop here, an ice-cream parlor, a candle shop,anything,Mama’s décor replaced with something trendy or modern. Her blackboard torn down. The driftwood tree dismantled. I couldn’t picture it at all, as if my mind found the idea too ludicrous to even consider.
Nothing belonged on this corner except for Magpie’s.
It might be time for me to let go,my daddy had said.
But letting go of my mama’s shop was not an option. It had never been an option. Not when she went missing and certainly not now. It was hers. Not ours. Dad and I were simply the coffee shop’s caretakers, waiting for the day Mama came back.
I heard footsteps and saw Estrelle walking toward her shop. Today she wore a high-necked, long-sleeved black lace dress that hung to her feet. Her stocky heels peeked out of the hem as she strode along. Her pillbox hat wobbled. She stopped in front of the golf cart and stared at me through her birdcage veil fora long moment, a tender, thoughtful expression in her silvery eyes, before continuing to Stitchery. Keys jangled as she found the correct one for the front door. As she pulled it open, she glanced back at me, looking like she wanted to say something, but she remained silent and went inside.
I wished shehadstayed and talked with me. She’d been a guiding force in my life for a long while now, often giving unsolicited advice when I hadn’t thought I needed it. But looking back now, those were some of the times I had needed it most. Somehow she always knew. I watched her walk around her shop, her movements clipped and perfunctory. I was still watching her, hoping she’d come out and tell me what was going on with my father, when Javier stepped out of the coffee shop carrying a to-go bag and a coffee cup, its sleeve stamped with the Magpie’s logo. Without question the cup held a mocha latte with 2 percent milk, and the bag held a cinnamon roll. He had never once ordered something else.
“Hello there, Maggie!” Javier called out when he spotted me.
He was perhaps the most elegant man I’d ever met. Impeccably dressed in designer trousers, a custom-tailored shirt, and a silk tie. He had a thick shock of black hair that was slicked back atop his head. His dark beard was exquisitely groomed. He spoke with an English accent, though he originally hailed from Italy. He was often seen with Alistair, his pet cockatiel who liked to perch on his shoulder, but the bird wasn’t with him today.
I climbed out of the golf cart and he kissed both my cheeks. From the corner of my eye, I saw Estrelle watching us from her shop window.
He said, “Delighted to see you indulging in a moment for yourself. Lovely day for it. Nary a cloud in the sky. Might I suggest the beach to be a better place to bask?”
I noticed the way his gaze kept darting toward the green, toward the yoga class. It had been a month since he and Redmond had broken up, and most of the town was still hoping they’d reconcile. Only Donnie Dufresne was holding out, but only because he’d had a crush on Redmond for years.
Basking sounded delightful, and for a moment, I consideredplaying hooky for the rest of the day. It had been a long time since I had an afternoon to myself with nothing at all to do. But there was simply too much on my schedule. Ava needed training, I had vendor calls to make, the guest room at my dad’s house needed cleaning. And, of course, there was my date with Donovan.
“Actually,” I said, “I was waiting for you.”
His eyes lit. “To what occasion do I owe the honor?”
As I stood there, trying to figure out what to say, all I could hear was my father’s voice in my head.
Now, now, Magpie, don’t go getting all riled up. My ring is with Javier.
