Page 1 of The Charmed Friends of Trove Isle
CHAPTERONE
MELODY
Melody Palmer pulled up to the address in her GPS and parked along the curb. The sign above the awning readHIDDEN TREASURESin large golden block letters. The wordtreasurebrought visions of jewelry or fancy clothing to mind. It conjured images of special knickknacks or mementos that one might find in a fancy gift shop, which was what Melody had assumed she’d inherited. This store and its sign, however, reminded her of a pawn shop.
She swallowed past a tight throat and reached for a bottled water in the center console, taking several long sips. She was meeting with a lawyer here in just a few minutes to sign the papers and make this place hers.
When Mr. Lyme had called last week to inform her that—surprise!—she was the new owner of a store that her Great-aunt Jo had willed to her in Trove Isle, North Carolina, Melody’s first remark had been, “I thought someone had to die to will you something.”
After a long pause, the lawyer had cleared his throat and responded in a thick southern accent, “My condolences, Miss Palmer.”
So Great-aunt Jo was dead. The realization that her father’s aunt was gone still knocked the breath out of Melody when she thought about it. She hadn’t seen Jo in nine years, but the fact that she never would again stung. After Melody’s mother had died when Melody was eleven, Jo had picked up the slack on the things that moms did, like teaching Melody and her sister Alyssa, who was one year younger, about boys and puberty, having at-home spa days that were unconventional to say the least, and making butterscotch tea when they’d had a bad day.
When Melody had left her small ocean isle town at eighteen, she’d left everyone behind, including Jo.
Pushing her car door open, Melody stepped out onto the sidewalk of Seagull Street. She’d been impressed when she’d heard the address. This was prime realty in the little isle town. Unlike the other beachfront towns nearby, Trove Isle wasn’t a touristy hot spot. It was too small to accommodate many out-of-towners, and most people had never heard of Trove. For those who lived here though, Seagull Street was the place to be. It had everything a town might need, and maybe a little of what it didn’t need.
Melody looked at the storefront again. Jo hadn’t owned this place before Melody left town. Instead, Melody’s great-aunt had worked odd jobs, scraping money together to barely make ends meet. When Melody had heard Jo left her a store, she’d assumed her great-aunt had finally found success. Melody had envisioned a nice storefront with good business.
That’s not what this was. Melody should have known better. Jo was what one might call a hoarder. There was an untold story in everything that Jo was drawn to—an unlived life. Melody used to disappear into her aunt’s closet for hours, opening boxes, and pulling things out to try on.
“Those shoes will lead you to one of your very best friends,” Jo once said when Melody had tried on a pair of shiny black ballerina flats. Melody had been twelve. The very next day, she’d gone to school, wearing her shoes that Jo had salvaged from some unknown place, and she’d sat down beside the new girl, Brianna Johnson—Bri—who soon became one of Melody’s closest friends. Well, up until the accident.
Jo had been right. She was always right about things like that.
Melody glanced in each direction up the sidewalk before walking to the store’s window and pressing her hands against the cold glass to peer inside. There was wall-to-wall clutter. Clothes, toys, books, handheld appliances, everything one could possibly want—to get rid of.
Along one wall Melody spotted a fluorescent sign that read STUFF ABEACHBAGFOR$1.
Is this a thrift store?
“Miss Palmer?” a deep voice asked.
Melody jumped back from the window and whirled to face a balding man with dark brown skin and a neatly trimmed silver beard. “Mr. Lyme?”
He held out his hand for her to shake. “Nice to see you again, Melody. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”
Melody slipped her hand into his, finding his grasp firm and warm. She didn’t exactly recognize him though.
“I think the last time I saw you, you might have been ready to graduate high school,” he said in a friendly manner.
She stiffened at the reminder of her senior year. It was supposed to be the launching pad for the rest of her life, and it had been. It just hadn’t launched her where she’d expected to go. Back then she’d been eager to travel, yes, but she’d never intended to forget her roots. She was feeling claustrophobic by her tiny hometown and wanted to go and do and see all that the world had to offer. It was as if the world was her oyster and she was destined to find her pearl. By the time she’d ended up leaving though, it hadn’t been in the spirit of adventure, but more of a desperation for escape. Now here she was, back in the little town that had once felt like her prison.
Melody avoided the lawyer’s gaze, pretending to observe the storefront again. It had brick facing, and it was painted a creamy white color, chipped in a way that made it look both old and quaint—unlike that blaring sign above their heads. “Thank you for meeting me.”
“Of course, of course.” He took a pair of keys from his blazer’s pocket and jingled them in front of her with a wide grin. “Let me show you Jo’s pride and joy.” He opened the shop door and gestured for her to go in ahead of him. The aroma was what hit Melody first. Did dust have a smell? The air was stale, reminiscent of a closet that had been closed for too long, its shelves lined with moth balls and bricks of cedar meant to offset the musty scent.
Melody coughed once and then another time, finally deciding to breathe more shallowly while she was in the confines of this space.
“You okay?” Mr. Lyme asked, following behind her. “Jo has been gone a couple weeks now and no one has been in here to care for this place. This store meant everything to Jo,” he said. “Every time I stopped in to see her, she had an ear-to-ear grin. Then again, that was Jo. Always spreading cheer wherever she went.”
Melody turned to the lawyer, finding his kind words about her great-aunt interesting. “You and Jo were good friends?”
Mr. Lyme looked down for a moment, which Melody also found intriguing.
Oh.Apparently, he and Great-aunt Jo were more than good friends. That shouldn’t have made Melody sad, but it did. She didn’t know her great-aunt anymore. She hadn’t known about this store or the man Jo had been involved with. She hadn’t even known Jo was gone until two weeks after the fact.
Melody’s father had been calling and she’d been ignoring him. Was this what he’d been trying to tell her? If she had taken the time to call him back, perhaps she would have known. Turning, Melody let her gaze roam over the items on the shelves. There were knickknacks, costume jewelry, racks of shoes, books, clothing. “Where did all this stuff come from?” she asked.
