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Lally says, “Hey, Rosalie, I haven’t seen you much lately. We should walk the dogs soon. Madame and General miss playtime with Roo.”
“Yeah. I’ve been, um, busy.” Her gaze snaps to me. “Looks like the band is back in town. You and the McGregor brothers, all here, all of a sudden. I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other yet. I can’t wait to meet your baby. Brando said—I mean, I heard you were visiting and then decided to stay. You and Ryan are fixing the Sip & Scoop, eh?” Rosalie rambles on as a faintly rosy hue creeps across her cheeks.
Royal is already moving away, not interested in a prolonged conversation when we’re on a mission.
Lally looks at her carefully and if she’s thinking the same thing I am, this behavior is odd for Rosalie. If you look her up in a thesaurus, her picture is listed as an antonym fornervous,and yet that’s exactly how she’s acting.
I say, “Yeah. Good to be back. I think. Missed it here.”
“We have to get together soon. Stop by my flower shop anytime you’re free and we can gab.” She pauses. “Actually, text me first. I’ve been getting busier lately. Text me soon. See ya.” She waves and rushes away.
“I gather you know Rosalie,” I say to Lally.
“Sure do. She was one of the first friends I made when I moved here. We bonded over dogs.”
“So do you think that was out of character?”
“Extremely.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with the treasure hunt?”
Lally wears a private smile. “No, if I were to wager, I’d bet it has something to do with pink flamingos.”
“Huh?” I ask.
“Meaning love is in the air.”
We catch up to Royal and then soon arrive at Mr. Higbee’s.
Lally asks to see the poker table, explaining that Magnus wants one for the cottage property game room. Or so she says.
Mr. Higbee reluctantly lets us in. I elbow Royal because the symbol from the journal is the exact match to the one branded on the table. He nods almost imperceptibly.
“Where did you get this?” Lally asks.
“What? Don’t mumble. Speak more clearly. Louder,” he practically hollers.
Lally repeats the question at a higher volume but just as clearly as the first time.
Rounding on Royal, he says, “Your grandfather had it specially made. He gave it to me and you cannot have it back, so don’t even ask,” Mr. Higbee barks.
“No, sir. Nothing of the sort. It’s all yours.”
Mr. Higbee seems relatively pacified and rocks back on his heels with a harrumph.
Royal continues, “It’s nice to see something that belonged to my grandfather, though. As you can imagine, I appreciate that you still make use of it. Treasure it even.”
“Miss McGuinness here would know. We play poker every week. Use coasters so we don’t stain the wood with our beverages.”
“That’s right. Mr. Higbee takes good care of the table. That’s why I was thinking something like this would work at the cottages. It would last a long time.” Lally lets out a long breath.
I refrain from speaking because I feel like anything might set the man off, but my focus is on the symbol burned into the wood in the center. Likely, what happened was Chip sketched it in hisjournal, and the pencil lead rubbed off onto the other page just as we speculated. Then Chip tore out the drawing and presented it to his friends.
Why did they need a symbol? What does it mean?
But those questions aren’t what I want answered. It’s something else. My mind floats to the envelope in the diary, the wax seal, which is a kind of symbol, and the blank paper inside.
I turn it over in my mind, but nothing appears. A message doesn’t reveal itself.
