Tide and Punishment

by Bree Baker

  Also by Bree Baker

  The Seaside Café Mysteries

  Live and Let Chai

  No Good Tea Goes Unpunished

  Tide and Punishment

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2019 by Bree Baker

  Cover and internal design © 2019 by Sourcebooks

  Cover design by Adrienne Krogh/Sourcebooks

  Cover illustration © Trish Cramblet/Lott and Associates

  Internal images © Freepik, Shutterstock

  Sourcebooks, Poisoned Pen Press, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Poisoned Pen Press, an imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Simple Swan Family Recipes

  Excerpt for Live and Let Chai

  Chapter One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To Lanita

  Chapter One

  “Merry Christmas,” I called to a pair of newly arriving guests. “Welcome to Sun, Sand, and Tea.” I rushed to shut the door against a wave of icy air and fought a head-to-toe shiver. I’d laced the seashell wind chimes above my front door with sleigh bells days ago, and tonight they’d barely stopped ringing.

  It wasn’t like our island to see more than a quickly vanishing flurry of snow this time of year, but a late-season tropical storm off the coast of Florida had ruined our normally mild weather. Unusually low temps, heavy winds, and precipitation had conspired to dump several inches of snow over our small town last night and most of us weren’t sure what to do about it.

  Charm was a small coastal town on a string of barrier islands off the East Coast. The islands were known collectively to most as the Outer Banks. For me, they’d always been home.

  My newest guests, a couple I’d known all my life, greeted me with hearty hugs and handshakes. A younger, unfamiliar face smiled behind them. Mr. Waters, the general store owner, kicked snow from his boots while his wife dusted tufts of powdery flakes from her hat and shoulders.

  I opened my arms again, this time with greedy hands. “Let me take your coats.”

  Mr. Waters was quick to comply, and I grabbed a hanger from the overstuffed rolling rack behind me. “Leave it to Everly Swan to plan a Christmas party on a night like this,” he teased. “Charm hasn’t seen this much snow in forty years.”

  I hung the coat with a smile, thankful I’d had the forethought to borrow a rack from the local cleaners for my party. While I hadn’t predicted the snow, I knew folks would be more comfortable without dragging their wrappings around all night, and my café hadn’t come with a coat closet fit for one hundred. “In my defense,” I told Mr. Waters, “I started planning this party in September. Besides, I think the snow adds a little ambience. Don’t you? And it didn’t keep you away, so I’ll call that a win.”

  He chuckled. “From the looks of the parking situation out front, the weather hasn’t stopped anyone.”

  His wife grinned and passed me her coat, one arm suspiciously behind her back. “That’s because no one on this island is fool enough to miss a Swan holiday buffet. We were thrilled to see the flyer. Your grandma used to make your family’s special cookies every year, and I counted the days until I could get my next hit. I swear that woman was magic in the kitchen.”

  “She was.” My grandma had loved to cook and bake. She’d practically raised me in the kitchen, and I was honored to follow in her footsteps. Unfortunately, we’d lost Grandma last year. I hadn’t been around to say goodbye.

  I hung Mrs. Waters’s coat beside her husband’s and turned back to find her arms outstretched. What looked like a three-foot, red-and-white-striped baseball bat lay across her palms. “This is for you,” she said. “It’s a peppermint stick!”

  My eyes went wide. “Wow.” I accepted the giant gift with a little grunt of effort. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. We thought you could crush it up and add it to all those amazing cookies you’ve been churning out over here since Thanksgiving. What’s a lady have to do to get a few dozen on order?”

  I hugged the candy to my chest and smiled. “Just let me know what you’d like and I’ll do my best to get them to you by Christmas,” I said, unsure it was physically possible to take another order with only nine days to go.

  “Excellent!” She clasped her hands and beamed. “Now let me introduce you to our surprise holiday gift.” She pulled the young, dark-haired woman who’d arrived with them against her side and smiled proudly. “This is our niece, Lanita. I don’t know how, but she and her mother, my normally loose-lipped sister, managed to keep Lanita’s visit a secret until my doorbell rang and I found this lovely young lady outside!”

  “Hello,” I said, offering my hand in greeting. “I’m Everly Swan, and this is my iced tea shop. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m staying with my aunt and uncle over holiday break.”

  Mr. Waters clapped her on the back. “Lanita is a senior at Duke University this year. She’s going to be an anthropologist and study people.”

  “Cultural development,” Lanita corrected with a shrug. “People are interesting on their own, but I’m especially fascinated by their interactions and the ways they develop societal constructs.”

  I laughed. “Well, you’re going to love it here. There are plenty of interesting interactions to observe.”

  Lanita’s wide brown eyes seemed to lighten be
hind her dark-rimmed glasses. “The snow,” she whispered. “Everyone is acting as if they’ve never seen such a thing before.”

  “We are a beach town,” I said. “Most folks move here to get away from weather like this. We’re not equipped to deal with it.”

  “Materially or emotionally?” she asked with a broad smile.

  “Both!” the Waterses and I answered in unison.

  Lanita laughed, and her sleek bobbed hair danced around her chin.

  I envied the fashionable look—cat-eye glasses, angled bob, adorable fringe. Unfortunately, my wild and wavy locks were barely manageable in the cold, dry winter and downright crazy in the humidity of summer. Even on a good day, my hair gave Albert Einstein a run for his money.

  “I don’t mind the snow,” Lanita said. “I grew up in the mountains and my SUV has four-wheel drive, so this is nothing. I’ve been passing out my number in case anyone needs a ride. I’m calling it a Pick-Me-Up. It’s like getting an Uber or a Lyft except I’m the sole proprietor, only driver, and just opened for business after seeing two golf carts slide off the road this morning. The extra cash is great, plus I’m getting a crash course in entrepreneurship and an earful as I drive folks around. Lots of uncensored truths flowing in the backseat if you know what I mean.”

  I could only imagine.

  My door chimes rang once more, and a gust of frigid wind whipped through the foyer, pressing my skirt against my knees.

  Lanita passed me a pink sticky note with ten digits printed across it. “If you ever need a Pick-Me-Up.”

  Mrs. Waters released her niece and rubbed her palms together. “I’d better have a few cookie samples so I can pick some favorites for my order.”

  Mr. Waters took his wife’s hand, and they hurried through the archway to my seaside café and iced tea shop. Lanita and I followed.

  I prayed silently not to drop the peppermint and break my toe.

  Warm scents of cinnamon and vanilla pulled me through the crowded space inside Sun, Sand, and Tea and lifted my spirits further. Dozens of familiar faces laughed and chatted merrily around the smattering of chairs and tables. There were twenty seats in total, five at the counter and fifteen scattered across the wide-planked, whitewashed floor, ranging from padded wicker numbers with low tables to tall bistro sets along the perimeter.

  The café stretched through the entire south side of my home’s first floor. The previous owner had strategically knocked down several walls, opening the kitchen and formal dining area up to a large space for entertaining. It was a decidedly modern concept for a home that was more than 170 years old, but it made a stunning setup for my shop. I’d recently traded the hodgepodge of yard sale and thrift shop furniture I’d started out with for a top-of-the-line set of reinforced wicker pieces in shades of the seaside. Pale blue for the sky and water, gray and tan for the driftwood and sand. I used throw pillows and accents in bright yellow, orange, or red to reflect the other things I saw frequently through the windows, like sunsets, kites, and Frisbees. Tonight, I’d added a heaping helping of holiday accents in shimmering blue, white, and silver.

  My great-aunts, Clara and Fran, beamed at me from behind the counter where they busily loaded the dishwasher with dirty place settings and restocked the little countertop buffet with fresh cookies and dinnerware. Aunt Clara patted my hand as I stowed the giant candy stick in the pantry. “You’ve outdone yourself. Folks can’t seem to stop smiling or saying wonderful things.”

  I bit back a goofy grin. Just ten days until Christmas, and unexpected weather aside, the party had gone off without a hitch.

  “People are especially impressed with your tree,” Clara continued. “It’s the perfect amount of sunshine and whimsy. Just like you.” She kissed my cheek, then turned back to the buffet.

  I gave the fat Carolina pine standing before my rear wall of windows a prideful look. I’d raided a dollhouse store in the neighboring town of Duck and bought all their miniature summer decor on clearance. Then, I’d spent an afternoon hot-gluing hooks onto everything from dried seashells and starfish to brightly colored buckets and shovels, tiny beach balls, floppy doll hats, and striped flip-flops. I’d even foregone the traditional tree skirt in favor of a few strategically arranged beach towels and had stacked gifts on a pair of child-sized Adirondack chairs for punch.

  “I couldn’t have done all this without you guys,” I said, “and thank you again for the lovely gnome.”

  “Of course,” Aunt Clara cooed, obviously pleased with my appreciation for her new hobby. “I knew the moment I finished painting him that he was meant to live here with you.”

  I forced my smile in place as I nodded, though I wasn’t in love with references to him “living” here.

  My great-aunts had always been a bit eccentric, but Aunt Clara had recently taken a worrisome step toward the deep end with a sudden gnome obsession. She’d started painting the little garden figures shortly after Halloween and hadn’t stopped. Now I had a particularly large and festive-looking one guarding my front door. Thankfully, she’d painted him in green pants with a red hat and matching curl-toed boots, so come January first, he could take a year-long vacation to the storage shed. Aunt Clara’s kindness was duly noted, but the gnome creeped me out.

  “Parking is a nightmare out there,” a newly arriving woman said. She shook snow from her crown of red hair and frowned. “We had to park halfway to Timbuktu tonight. There must be forty vehicles outside.”

  “It’s a full house,” I said, trying and failing to recall the woman’s first name. Unfortunately, I recognized her face. If Mrs. Dunfree, the current mayor’s wife, was here, that could only mean one thing: trouble was afoot. “May I take your coat?”

  “Please.” She unbuttoned the long wool number and passed it my way. She was very thin, her face drawn with distaste as she regarded her white suede ankle boots, darkened by a long walk over the snow-covered ground.

  I caught my breath at the sight of her husband moving through the crowd in our direction. Mayor Dunfree was Aunt Fran’s current nemesis. He was also the man Aunt Fran planned to run against in the next mayoral election. Worse, she planned to make that decision official with a public announcement tonight.

  “You might want to invest in some additional parking,” he said smartly, loading his coat and hat into my arms. “It’s ridiculous to expect folks to walk so far for a little iced tea.”

  I highly doubted the good mayor had decided to come out on a night like this for iced tea, but I smiled politely and nodded. “I’d love to add parking. Do you think the town council will approve a private lot so near the beach and boardwalk if I let them know the mayor suggested it?”

  He grimaced. The town council rarely approved anything new. In fact, the mayor and his minions worked diligently to keep everything in Charm the same as it always had been.

  Mayor Dunfree smoothed several long strands of gray hair across his otherwise bald head, then reached for his wife’s hand. “Shall we?” he asked, pulling her into the crowded café.

  Aunt Fran motored around the counter in my direction. “I can’t believe Mayor Dummy showed up here,” she hissed, grabbing my elbow and dragging me out into the foyer.

  I bit my tongue and selected hangers for their coats.

  Aunt Fran’s eyes were narrow and tight. “I’d bet my good britches someone told him I planned to make my announcement about running for office tonight. He’s probably here to bust it up.”

  I hung the coats quickly, then squeezed her hands and willed her not to panic. “What can I do?”

  She tracked him through the crowd with her gaze, face growing redder with each passing moment. “I don’t know.”

  “You can always hold off,” I suggested. “Make your speech on New Year’s Eve.”

  “No.” Aunt Fran huffed out a long breath, then marched back the way she’d come.

  “Wait,” I stage-whispered a
fter her, but it was too late. She’d caught up with the Dunfrees at my café’s service counter.

  I dropped my head forward with a groan. It was my first Christmas home after too many away, and I’d wanted to make it memorable with a big party, not host a septuagenarian showdown.

  Mayor Dunfree and his wife occupied a pair of bar stools across from Aunt Clara, who was busy keeping the trays stocked.

  Aunt Clara smiled brightly. “Welcome. Merry Christmas,” she said. Her cream-colored silk blouse had a high collar and long sleeves. She’d pinned a pearl-and-diamond brooch to the neckline that nearly matched her silver and blond hair. She looked a bit like an angel in the glow of twinkle lights draped overhead.

  Aunt Fran went to stand by her sister’s side, creating a dramatic visual contrast.

  I’d often thought of my great-aunts as a human yin and yang. Vast personality differences aside, most of their wardrobes were handmade or handed down and well past the point of vintage. Aunt Clara’s closet was overrun with shades of cream from eggshell to tan, while Fran’s clothes were mostly black. Clara’s fair hair, light complexion, and pale blue eyes seemed to match her sweet spirit, while Aunt Fran’s olive skin and dark hair and eyes seemed to support her no-nonsense personality.

  I looked more like Fran than Clara, but my natural disposition lacked ninety percent of Fran’s verve.

  “What brings you out tonight?” Aunt Fran asked the Dunfrees. “I’m surprised a party at Everly’s place would garner a visit from the mayor.”

  Mayor Dunfree nibbled his way through a pile of cookie selections before him. “I have an announcement to make,” he said. “And the flyers said everyone was invited.”

  Aunt Fran’s eyes narrowed into slits.

  I could practically read her thoughts from where I stood. He had an announcement to make? And he planned to make it here? Tonight?

  Aunt Clara smiled kindly. “Of course everyone is welcome here. We’re just surprised to see you. That’s all.”

  Mayor Dunfree stopped chewing. He shifted his gaze from Aunt Fran to Aunt Clara. “What’s with all the gnomes outside your shop?” he asked. “They’re everywhere, and I saw another one on my way up the porch steps out front. Is that one of yours too?”