Page 16 of The Charmed Friends of Trove Isle
Melody gave a resolute nod. “Yeah, I like that idea. Okay, Alyssa’s free pass is obviously Christopher. Mine is Harmon.”
“Harmon Lambert?” Liz flicked her gaze to the rearview mirror again. “Really?”
Melody leaned forward in her seat to talk to Liz more easily. “Who’s yours?”
“I don’t have a crush on anyone.” Liz returned her eyes to the road. “But I’ll choose David Pierce as my free pass.”
Bri cackled. “Youwouldchoose him. He is destined to become a mall cop one day.”
“Nothing wrong with mall cops,” Alyssa said, happily. “Bri?”
Bri hummed thoughtfully. “I choose—”
Before Bri could answer, Liz gasped loudly as something darted into the road. Melody didn’t get a good look. Everything happened so fast. Liz yanked the steering wheel and swerved to avoid hitting the shadowed creature—a small deer maybe—as it darted toward the woods.
Alyssa’s body fell against Melody’s with the car’s quick movement. Why wasn’t Alyssa wearing a seatbelt? No doubt she didn’t want to wrinkle her dress.
As the car righted, Alyssa straightened to an upright position and let out a startled laugh. “Well, that was scary.”
Melody was about to chastise her sister for not wearing a seatbelt when Liz slammed the brakes, sending the tires screaming into the night. The car hit the roadside and then they were spinning. Or maybe it was Melody’s mind that was spinning. She pressed her eyes closed, momentarily reminded of that ride at the fair, the Gravitron. The one where you could barely open your eyes against the pressure inside the small enclosure. That’s how she felt in this moment. Her eyelids were heavy, as if little lead anchors were weighing them down.
When her lids finally lifted, she looked out the front windshield and saw a huge tree coming at them at fifty miles an hour. Time slowed. Melody sent up what she thought would be her final prayer.
Please don’t let us die. Please protect us.
The details of what happened next were filled in by the emergency services who showed up on the scene after the accident.
Alyssa was ejected. The air bag broke Liz’s nose. Melody banged the side of her head against the window. She had a concussion. Bri broke her spine in three places. Three days later, Melody and Liz were sitting somberly in the front row at Alyssa’s funeral while Bri lay in a hospital bed. She’d been devastated that she couldn’t go, but Melody thought maybe Bri was the lucky one. The funeral made it all real. Alyssa was gone—forever. She wasn’t coming back.
Melody’s father didn’t cry during the service. He didn’t comfort Melody either. He didn’t say a solitary word to her until hours later when they were leaving the burial ground. Then he leaned in and looked at her with lost eyes.“You were supposed to watch over her.”
Melody blinked past hot tears that stung her eyes. She was surprised she hadn’t run out of tears by now, but they kept coming; they wouldn’t stop. Had she heard her father correctly?
“This is your fault,”he said before standing more upright, turning, and walking back toward the black Town car that the funeral home had driven them in.
Melody hung back, speechless. Law enforcement had deemed what happened to be an unfortunate accident. Melody’s father, however, had found her guilty. He blamed her for the simple fact that she had lived.
At dinner that night, he’d reiterated that sentiment when he’d asked,“Why Alyssa? There were four of you in the car, but she was the one taken. Why her?”How could a father think, much less say, such a thing?
Melody set down her fork and retreated to her bedroom—the one she used to share with Alyssa. But Alyssa wasn’t coming back and, as Melody packed up her belongings that night, she promised herself that neither was she.
* * *
“I can’t sell this place as is,” Abigail Winslow said the following day, standing in the center of Hidden Treasures. The real estate agent kept her arms close to her sides as if she was afraid to touch anything.
Melody guessed that Abigail didn’t want to dirty her neatly pressed pantsuit. “I’m really sorry, Melody, but you have some work to do before anyone will want to buy Jo’s store,” she said in a thick New York accent. She was a city transplant who’d moved South and had settled on the isle for fresh air and a lower cost of living. “If I put it up now, you’d maybe get half of what it’s worth, and that might be months from now. Real estate on Seagull Street isn’t as coveted as it once was. Sandpiper Street is much hotter territory.”
“I see.” Melody felt a little sick. “I thought people liked a good fixer-upper.”
Abigail chuckled. “They like it because they can get it for a steal. If you’re looking for fair market value, like you said, then you need to clean this shop out. No one wants to buy a dusty old thrift store. Sorry to be so blunt,” she said with an exaggerated grimace.
“No, I want your honest opinion.” Melody wanted to get fair market value too. The money would help her during the tight months. It might even afford her a house, which was something she’d dreamt of owning for a while now. An apartment felt like a temporary dwelling. By this point in life, she’d always thought that she’d own her own place. She’d thought she’d be successful and married too. Instead, she was living in a one-bedroom apartment and she was so single that she couldn’t remember when she’d been on her last date. She wanted to finally put down roots in Charlotte. Maybe she’d create a dating profile online when she got back.
“My honest opinion is that you need to toss the junk and do a few renovations. You can hire someone to help if you need to.”
“I don’t have money to hire someone,” Melody countered.
Abigail looked sympathetic. “Then start watching HGTV, honey.” She shrugged. “We’ve completed most of the paperwork. I’ll come back when you’re ready, and I’ll sell it any way you want. I’m only advising you on what I think would be the best strategy.”
