Page 6 of A Jingle of Justice
Fiona whooshed to the woman, hovered above her head for a second, and returned to me. “Our new visitor carries darkness with her.” A few months ago, she’d learned how to read auras. Only the queen fairy and future queen possessed such a talent.
“So does Ferguson,” Joss whispered.
I peered over my shoulder at him. He was moving away from the bell table, his hand fumbling with something in his man bag. I shivered, hoping he didn’t have snails that he would unloose in the shop. I turned back to the woman. “How may I help you, miss?”
“My name’s Tianna Thistle.” With her cute nose and wide-set eyes, she reminded me of a fairy friend of Fiona’s. Her honey-brown hair was secured with an exotic hairclip, the amulet around her neck too large for such a dainty frame. I noticed a spectacular diamond ring on her right hand. Was she engaged, or was she wearing a family heirloom? She tapped the stem of a porcelain bell. “This is beautiful.” Her voice was dulcet and warm. I could imagine her singing solos in a choir.
“Thank you. We ordered them specially for the holidays.”
Tianna lifted it and shook it to make it jingle. “Delightful.” She set it down and moved on. When she fingered the fronds of an angel hair fern in a garden I’d crafted last week, she squealed, “Yikes! It’s alive.”
I laughed. “Yes, all the plants in the shop and on the patio are alive. You can make fairy gardens with artificial plants, of course, but we don’t offer them here.” The arrangement she was studying had a holiday theme, complete with a sleeping fairy, a collection of presents, and a fairy dog sporting a bright red bow.
“I love fairy gardens. I saw a few at the Renaissance fair. A woman I ran into recommended I come here.” Humming,Tianna made her way through the entire main showroom. She returned to us and tucked a loose hair behind her right ear. With a disarming smile, she said, “I believe you have something of mine, Courtney.”
“I don’t believe so,” I replied, surprised she knew my name. Perhaps the woman she’d chanced upon at the fair was one of our customers and had clued her in.
“Yes. My great-great-grandfather Dexter Tillbury once owned the land upon which this courtyard resides.”
“I recognize the name,” Lissa said. “The Tillbury family suffered a huge tragedy. Dexter’s brother Daniel was a ne’er-do-well and was cut out of the family inheritance. When Daniel learned of the betrayal, he killed his brother, misguidedly believing their father would include him in his will.”
Tianna said, “Everything went to Dexter’s daughter, my great-grandmother Thessalonia.”
Lissa said, “The distribution most likely didn’t sit well with your uncle.”
“That’s an understatement.” Tianna resumed roaming the shop. “My great-grandmother comes to me in my dreams.”
“She was the original owner and baker of Sweet Treats.” Lissa directed the comment to me. She was a dedicated history buff and knew practically everything about Carmel and the nearby towns.
“Is that why you smell of lavender and cloves?” I asked. “Are you a baker, too?”
“Ha! I can’t cook worth a lick. My olfactory senses are nil. No, I am a spiritualist. Some say a medium.” She spun in a circle. “If what my great-grandmother disclosed to me is true, it’s here.”
“What is?” I asked, fascinated by her intensity.
Fiona alit on my shoulder. She was quivering. I petted the toe of her right foot.
“I can feel it. The energy is intense.” Tianna started toward the patio. “It lies beneath the tile.”
“What does?” I hurried after her.
“The treasure.”
Aw, heck. Not another one who thinks there’s a treasure here.
I clasped Tianna’s arm. “Hold on. Stop. You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? Are you and Shara in this together?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know anyone named Shara.”
“Okay, then Meaghan. Did she put you up to this?” My pal loved to play practical jokes. I’d bet she’d sent Shara in last night, and when Shara’s performance hadn’t piqued my interest, Meaghan resorted to goading another into making the claim.
“I don’t know anyone named Meaghan, either.” Tianna wrested free of my grasp. “Why don’t you believe me about the treasure?”
“Treasure?” Ferguson swung around and fixed his gaze on Tianna. “Did you say treasure?” The way he rubbed his hands together reminded me of the way Gollum, the greedy character in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, had acted whenever he touched the ring.
“Yes.” Tianna stretched her arms and wiggled her fingers. “It is my destiny to find the treasure during yuletide.”
“Not if someone else finds it first,” Ferguson said. “Or something happens to you,” he added with a sneer as he made a beeline for the door.
