Page 93 of The Summer We Started Over

When her phone buzzed, she answered.

“Hey,” Paul said. “What are you up to in your air-conditioned paradise?”

“You can join me anytime,” Barrett told him.

The man slipped an expensive bracelet off the display and, holding it with both hands, brought it close to his eyes to study it.

“Paul, I have to take care of a customer now. Let’s talk later.”

Barrett ended the call and gave all her attention to her customer. She didn’t get many men in her shop, but usually they bought a nice present for a woman. This bracelet wasreallynice.

The man set it back, gently, on the counter. “How much?”

“It’s six hundred dollars,” Barrett told the man. “Tanzanite is a rare gemstone, and the bracelet is made of gold.”

“It’s small. Do you have something bigger?”

“How do you mean? Wider? A bigger stone?”

“Yes, I guess.”

“We’re not a fine jewelry shop. I suggest you go to Jewel in the Sea for something more spectacular. They’re an excellent shop, beautiful stones, reasonable prices. Just up the street.”

“No, I like it. I’ll take it.” He pulled out his credit card.

Barrett smiled and bent down to take a small white gift box from the lower shelf.

“Hey, do you know this writer woman who lives around here?” the man asked.

Barrett froze. Could this guy be Dinah’s stalker?

She tried to relax her face as she stood up. His credit card was on the counter. She ran it through the machine, noting that his name was John Henderson.

“I’ll just put it in this box.” Her voice and hands shook slightly as she handed him his card. “Would you like this gift wrapped?”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

Barrett carefully packaged the bracelet in a small white box and tied blue ribbon around it, adding a bow. “Here you are.”

“About that writer. I think I’ve seen her come in here.”

“We have several well-known women writers on the island,” Barrett said as pleasantly as she could.

“Her name is Dinah Lavender.” He looked uncomfortable. “Odd last name, Lavender.”

Warily, Barrett said, “Why, yes, she’s been in. I think she bought a scarf. If you’d like to leave your name with me, I could tell her if I see her again.”

The man frowned. “I really need to see her. In person.”

Barrett stood her ground. “If you give me your name, I’ll give it to her if she comes into my shop again.”

“It’s important.”

“Yes, I understand.”

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. Heavy stock, dark print. He was John Henderson, of Henderson Brokerage, Wichita, Kansas.

Barrett smiled. “Mr. Henderson. Wow, you’ve come a long way from home.”

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