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I had been avoiding the space since hearing the crash the other night, but I decided it was time to check things out.
Mollyreowed.
“I am not stalling,” I lied.
She blinked those beautiful blue eyes of hers and tipped her head as if saying,Go on, then.
I frowned at her. Then I took a deep breath, put my hand on the knob, and with one swift move, yanked it open. A wave of heat blew out, carrying with it the scent of seaweed.
Molly darted behind my legs.
“Chicken.”
The enclosed stairwell echoed my heavy breathing. I flipped on the light switch, even though there was plenty of ambient sunlight filtering through the attic’s dormer windows. Dust motes floated lazily.
Taking one step, then another, I closed my eyes and listened. I heard my own breathing, quick and shallow. I heard Molly’s whiskers twitching. I heard the creaks and groans of the house siding. I heard the whisper of wind.
At the top of the steps, I looked around and was surprised to find sea glass scattered across the dusty floorboards, glittering like precious jewels. The glass had spilled from a tin that lay on its side next to a blue plastic tub labeledNOAH’S BABYHOODin what I recognized to be Maggie’s fancy handwriting.
The crash I’d heard on Saturday night had to have come from the spilled sea glass, but I wasn’t sure how it had fallen, unless it had been perched on the tub of Noah’s baby things. The lidto that container was askew. Before I tightened it, I glimpsed inside andawwed over a tiny pair of overalls, a well-loved stuffed dog, and a knitted blanket.
Then I crouched down and used my hand to sweep the sea glass back where it belonged in its tin. I duck-walked along the floorboards, making sure I didn’t miss a single piece. I’d take the tin downstairs, and later on ask Dez if he’d sell it to me. The glass was just so beautiful, I hated to think of it hiding away in the attic.
I was almost done cleaning up when something glinted in the shadows of the eaves, shining like a lighthouse beacon at night. I reached for it, my hand closing tightly around the object. Coolness seeped into my palm, despite the heat of the attic.
As I pulled it into the light, I quickly discovered it was a tarnished silver rattle imprinted with a sailboat. I gave it a shake.
Goose bumps rose on my arms. It was the sound I’d heard minutes ago—this rattle, the beads inside bouncing around inside the silver head. I shook it again. Yes, it was definitely the rattle I’d heard. But who’d shaken it?
Still crouched, I suddenly heard a fluttering that sounded like a heartbeat.
I glanced around, noticing for the first time that one of the dormer windows was open an inch, letting in the faintest breeze. The monarch butterfly that had been following me around sat on the windowsill, its wings opening and closing slowly. Its right forewing was now fully white.
As I watched it, the butterfly suddenly took flight, gliding gracefully under the window sash, leaving behind a glittery golden trail as it flew away.
CHAPTER 19AVA
By the next afternoon, I was wiped out physically. I left Magpie’s after my shift, and instead of turning toward the beach, toward Dez’s, I veered right, practically dragging myself down the sidewalk. Stitchery’s door was open wide, held in place by a kick-down doorstop. I was happy the shop was open at all. I’d yet to figure out the hours Estrelle kept. They seemed to be chosen by the same method Dez used to pick out his treasures: whim.
Immediately upon stepping into the shop, awash in its soothing colors, some of my tension drained.
It had been a busy day at the coffee shop. Neighbors were still coming in droves to get a firsthand account of Dez and me sniffing out the bakery fire, most still unconvinced that Sienna had nothing to do with it. Then there were those who hoped to see Donovan and Maggie working side by side again, because apparently it had been a lovely sight to see.
Everyone, it seemed, had wanted to hear the latest scoop on what was happening with the sale of the coffee shop. Mrs. Pollard had come by to critique the new recipe on the blackboard. The Mermaids had shared their treasures, including a sand dollar and a mermaid’s purse—the horned egg case of a sting ray. Estrelle had been by for her hot chocolate with cinnamon. Redmond had peeked in the front window, and when he saw her inside, kept on walking.
Rose was still out of town because the mechanic working on her car was waiting for a part. Concern had been stamped all over Titus’s face when he’d found out Rose hadn’t yet returned to Driftwood, and I heard him mumbling that he ought to go get her himself.
I wouldn’t put it past him if he did.
During lulls, Maggie sequestered herself in her office, filling out an online commercial mortgage application, and I tried to rest as much as possible.
Inside Stitchery an electric hum filled the air, the only sound I heard. Estrelle sat at a sewing machine, expertly guiding fabric patterned with cartoony dogs under a metal foot. It looked like she was making a toddler’s shirt or perhaps a dress. She didn’t look up from her work as she said, “You’re late. You know I can’t abide tardiness.”
I actually looked over my shoulder to see if anyone else had snuck into the shop behind me without my noticing. But no. I was the only one here.
“I wasn’t aware we had an appointment. The carpetbags aren’t due back until next Tuesday. And they’ll likely be empty when they come back, which I suspect you already knew.”
The sewing machine fell quiet as Estrelle stood. She was once again dressed in black. It was the first time I’d seen her in pants, however—a pair of wide-leg culottes that swung as she walked to the cash register counter. Completing the outfit was a black satin blouse with a bow at the neck, her regular pillbox hat and veil, and chunky heels.
