Page 33 of Wild Tides
Oh, Lee. He didn’t just send me flowers for the first time – he sent me an army of them. Was it a peace offering for the past? The over-the-top gesture was the kind of thing I’d do. What did it mean that he’d adopted my tactics?
Joe brought in two bouquets on the second trip. Two more on the third. I frantically cleared space, placing vases on display tables. By the time he finished, the Salty Pantry looked more like a florist than a specialty spice store. And I loved it.
Daffodils didn’t smell the best, but you couldn’t beat them for pure cheer. They were sunshine in flower form, and thanks to Lee, I had enough to get a sunburn indoors. One bouquet saysI’m sorry. But a dozen?
This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to grovel. Not charm. For a moment, I felt guilty about taking his laptop. It was his lifeline to his work. If I kept it too long, he’d be behind on his deadlines. Maybe I’d gone too far.
But then I looked around at sunshine blooming in every corner of my store. Maybe we both needed a little shake-up. The man was injured and needed to rest. Plus, doing a little penance for high school transgressions was character-building. It might be the only way for us to deal with our past.
And having him dress as his high-school self was only step one.
I opened the WNFH page on my phone and scrolled to the original anonymous post. Half the town had jumped on the opportunity to post throwback photos, including Josie from the moped rental place, who still rocked her cheerleading uniform in ways guaranteed to turn heads. Will Guzman couldn’t resist one-upping her; he’d unearthed a long wig and gone full grunge. But the picture I wanted the most wasn’t in the thread.
I added another post, this one less subtle. His laptop with a sticky note that said “most likely to make a living killing people” on top of a collection of high school memorabilia. I tucked my phone under the register and nudged a flower bouquet back from the edge of a display table before it toppled.
The shop bell tinkled, and a tall man in a beanie and thick-soled boots ducked through the door. He shuffled around the store, his back to me. Something about the set of his shoulders made me tense, watching him. He appeared almost alert. Like he was waiting for an opening.
Theft on the island was rare – after all, where would you go with your stolen loot? Without your own getaway boat, you’d be a sitting duck for law enforcement. But he wasn’t exhibiting regular tourist behavior either. No idle questions. No samples. Really, that was a dead giveaway. Who wouldn’t try a sea salt caramel when I offered them so freely? A monster — that was who.
Slowly, I sidled to the counter and my phone. Maybe I was being silly. Lee would be my first choice of caller, but he wasn’t exactly mobile at the moment. That left Zach, Gran, or the sheriff as my next line of defense. While Gran would gleefully sit in the Adirondacks outside, Thumper across her thighs as a silent warning, the sheriff would have thoughts about her showing off her shotgun in town. And Gran didn’t need another visit to the county jail. Zach would pop by if I called. He’d probably only tease me for three months for a false alarm.
The door dinged again, this time admitting a gray-haired couple. I pasted on a smile, my shoulders relaxing as the dark man slipped out of the shop in the wake of their entrance. I’d probably wound myself up over nothing. Not every enigmatic stranger was casing the joint. It wasn’t like I had much to steal, other than cash. Salt and spices weren’t exactly easily portable.
Rolling my shoulders, I stood taller and smiled. “Is there anything I can help you find?” I waved a hand at the bouquets. “We don’t usually have so many flowers in here. Let me know if you need help reaching anything.”
“They’re lovely, dear. I take it there’s a special man in your life?” The older woman’s eyes twinkled. “Lucky you.” She squeezed her companion’s hand. “Why don’t you buy me flowers like that anymore, honey?”
Her partner’s brows beetled. Sensing he was about to make an excuse to leave, I rushed to speak. “We have wonderful localcaramels. They’re the perfect treat for your sweetheart. Three flavors,” I added with a helpful smile.
He harrumphed, his face softening into an indulgent smile as he looked down at his wife. “Then I’d better buy all three.” He tilted his chin toward the nearest bouquet. “Gotta keep up with Mr. Impossible Standard over here.”
His wife snuggled into his shoulder, stretching up to kiss his weathered cheek. He brushed his hand over the place, like even after all these years, he still treasured every kiss.
I packaged their purchases and ran his card, trying to control the sentimental part of me that got misty-eyed over them holding hands. She winked, her grin taking on a saucy edge as she accepted the bag of caramels. “Enjoy your evening – and your young man.”
They stepped outside, his hand gently escorting her down the stairs to the street, drawing my gaze to the man in the beanie who lingered there. My misgivings from earlier returned. He was there again. Watching. Waiting. And this time, I didn’t think it was over nothing.
Chapter 17 – Lee
It was harder to look cool lounging on my couch in my letter jacket and a backwards baseball cap than I remembered. Waiting for Violet to get home was agony. I’d done my duty, posting selfies in my best senior-portrait-worthy poses beneath the second post. The jacket didn’t quite fit anymore. When I was seventeen, it hung on my lanky frame. Then, I’d felt the weight of my parents’ expectations. The town’s. Now? I was eager to see if my photos had earned me my laptop back.
If Vi was in a forgiving mood, I’d be working again tomorrow.
Not meeting Vi at the front door when I heard her unlock it took all my restraint. Maneuvering with my foot in the boot was still a pain. My ankle was swollen and tender after my earlier errands with Drew. My lack of mobility was frustrating. If I hunkered down somewhere, I wanted it to be because I wanted to, not because I had to.
“Hey, Lee,” Violet called, pausing at the office door. A slow smile spread across her face. “What’s this, Murphy? You re-living your glory days?”
I held her gaze steadily. Her eyes were clear and guileless. Like she wasn’t behind the whole damn thing. “Something like that.” I glanced down at her empty hands. “No laptop, huh?”
“Nope,” she said matter-of-factly. “Did you have any luck with the lost and found onWhat’s New, Friday Harbor?”
She was so offhand about the whole thing. Maybe she wasn’t the one behind it all. My eyes narrowed. Her serene expression never faltered. The list of suspects was vanishingly small. And she was the only one with a key to my house. It had to be her.
I gestured to my outfit. “You could say that. They want their pound of flesh before giving it back.”
“You look cute. I miss your ball cap days.”
“Is that what this is all about?”
