by Lena Gregory
He looked down, appalled.
“You might also want to stop home for a matching shoe.” She laughed, some of her stress melting away. But as she crossed the back lawn, a chill prickled her spine, and she paused, certain a shadow would pass. The sun continued to beat down, cocooning her in its warm embrace.
7
The chimes tinkled, and Cass looked up from the inventory sheet she was working on.
A girl Cass didn’t recognize walked in and looked around. She couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen years old, and Cass glanced out the window to see if anyone else was on their way in. A red ten-speed bicycle was propped against the side of the boardwalk steps.
“Hi.” Cass skirted the counter to greet her.
“Hi.” Her cheeks reddened, making her abundance of freckles more prominent.
“I’m Cass.” She extended a hand, which the girl took. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” She seemed to relax a little. “I’m Ava.”
“Are you looking for anything special, or just looking around?”
“Actually . . .” She twisted her hands together, her expression somber. “I need a good luck charm or something.”
“Is everything okay?” Cass didn’t get a negative feel from her, but she wanted to make sure the girl wasn’t in any kind of trouble. “It helps if I know what you need the charm for.”
Ava brushed a lock of red hair that had fallen out of her ponytail off her face. “I have to take my first New York State Regents exams soon, and I’m a nervous wreck. I talked to my parents about it, and they said to just do my best, but I can’t sleep because I’m so worried about failing, and I’m so tired I can’t even concentrate to study.” Her shoulders slumped with the admission, as if relieved to finally have it off her chest.
Cass bit back a smile, not wanting Ava to think she wasn’t taking her problem seriously. She could certainly relate to this child’s exhaustion, and she could still remember a time when passing exams had been her major concern. “I think I have just the thing to help you.”
Her entire face brightened. “Really?”
“Yup. Come with me.” She led Ava to a shelf on the other side of the shop, then pulled down a wooden box and handed it to her.
Ava studied the box, turning it over in her hands. When her gaze fell on the twenty-five-dollar price tag on the bottom, she held the box back out to Cass. “Do you have anything a little less expensive? I only have fifteen dollars.”
Cass pushed the box back toward her. “Just so happens it’s on sale this week. Open it.”
“Thank you.” Ava opened the box and stared at the row of small, handcrafted dolls, each about an inch long. “What are they?”
“They’re worry dolls. They are made in Guatemala, each one handcrafted from pieces of wood.” Cass lifted one out of the box and handed it to her. “The artisans then use scraps of woven fabric and yarn to make traditional Mayan costumes.”
“They’re beautiful, but how do they help?”
“According to legend, you tell the dolls your worries at night, then place them under your pillow. The dolls worry for you while you sleep.” Cass shrugged. “Supposedly, you wake up feeling well rested and worry free.”
Ava looked skeptical. “Have you ever tried them?”
“I haven’t . . .” Yet. Although, if things kept going the way they were, she might just have to take a box home with her. “But I do know people who have, and they swear they work.”
“Okay, you’ve talked me into it.” A huge grin spread across her face, and Cass could see through the slightly awkward but adorable teenager to the beautiful woman she would one day become. “Even if it doesn’t help, it can’t hurt, right?”
“That’s very true.” Cass took the box to the counter and rang it up, then placed the box in a shopping bag with handles so Ava would be able to carry it while riding her bike. “Good luck. Make sure you stop back in and let me know how they work out.”
“You bet I will. Thank you.” She slid the handles over her wrist and waved as she bounced out the door, looking much happier than when she’d come in.
That was the part of her job Cass loved most. The ability to help people. Now, if only she could figure out how to help the woman who’d sought her out in her dreams. If she was real, of course. There was always the possibility she’d been nothing more than a nightmare. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of the woman, or the certainty that she was somehow in trouble. She sighed and marked the ten-dollar discount in her ledger so Stephanie would see it when she did the books.
She wished Bee would hurry back with her coffee. She needed a distraction from her overactive imagination as much as she needed the caffeine to keep her awake.
All right. Enough was enough. Unable to focus on anything, Cass gave up and decided to take a walk. She took a quick look around before locking the door to Mystical Musings. The few people meandering along the boardwalk didn’t seem interested in shopping. Besides, it would only take a few minutes to peek in the art gallery window. Once she saw for herself that the woman in the portrait wasn’t the same woman haunting her dreams—and now her reality—she could get back to work. Hopefully.
A squirrel scampered across the porch railing, and Beast launched himself at it. Cass tightened her hold on the leash, and it caught, stopping him from running off but nearly jerking her arm out of the socket.
She sighed. She’d call Herb as soon as she got back to the shop.
She walked quickly toward the gallery, keeping an eye out for Artie Becker. If he was still in town, and he’d visited the diner, the deli, or the bakery any time after this morning, he should already have heard about the skeleton they’d dug up. She had no idea if rumor had it that she’d been the one to make the discovery yet, but once it did, she expected Artie might return. And despite Tank’s warning to stay out of this, she really wanted to know what Artie had been doing in the art gallery.
She started past Dreamweaver Designs, but the new display in the window stopped her short. Bee had outdone himself this time. A few pieces of his trial lingerie line were prominently displayed beside one of his most popular beach wedding dresses, and they were stunning. The filmy blue fabric left just the right amount to the imagination. Bee was right, lingerie could be done tastefully.
Beast nudged her leg, apparently impatient to move on.
“In a hurry to get somewhere, boy, or do you just want to walk?” She resumed her trek toward the gallery.
Beast barked once and took his place at her side.
The boardwalk was surprisingly empty for such a beautiful spring day, especially after the rough winter they’d had. Snowstorm after snowstorm had barreled up the coast, burying them for most of February and March.
She stopped in front of the art gallery and stared at the portrait in the center of the window. A young boy in a field playing with his dog. A quick scan of the rest of the window yielded the same results. The woman’s portrait was gone. Had it ever even been there in the first place? A dull throbbing began at her temples. Maybe she really was losing it. She studied the new painting again, so different from what she’d seen the other night, or at least what she thought she had seen. Only one way to find out.
Cass pulled the door open and poked her head in.
A woman looked up from where she sat in front of a canvas. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Ummm . . .” What if the portrait had never been there? What if she’d imagined the whole thing? What if it had been a vision? “I wanted to ask you about a portrait. Is it okay to bring my dog in?”
The woman eyed Beast a little warily. “As long as he’ll behave.”
Cass looked down at Beast, his eyes wide, tongue hanging out, innocence written all over his expression while his body quivered in anticipation of running around somewhere new. “Maybe you
’d better come out here.”
“Sure, no problem.” She set her paintbrush aside and wiped her hands on her paint-splattered smock.
Cass let the door fall shut and returned to the window. Any change? Nope. Her portrait was still gone, and in its place, boy and dog still frolicked endlessly.
The door squeaked open, and the woman emerged, her long, blond hair tied in a messy knot atop her head. She extended a hand. “Hi. I’m Leighton Mills.”
Beast started wiggling frantically, then crouched to jump.
“Beast, no.” She tightened her already white-knuckled grip on his leash and shook Leighton’s hand. “Cass Donovan. I own Mystical Musings down the boardwalk.” She gestured over her shoulder toward her shop, then fished a toy out of her bag and dropped it in front of Beast.
Thankfully, he slid down in the shade of the awning and started to chew.
“Nice to meet you, Cass. How can I help you?”
“Actually, I walked by here the other night, and I thought there was a different painting displayed in the window. A portrait of a woman?” She held her breath, heart thundering, while she waited patiently for confirmation of her insanity.
Leighton shifted from one foot to the other, her gaze darting nervously around the boardwalk. “Oh, uh . . . That’s not for sale.”
“Do you still have it?”
She hesitated. “I do, but like I said, it’s not for sale.”
“Can you tell me anything about the woman in the portrait?”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows drew together when she frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know anything.” With that, she clamped her lips firmly together. She obviously wasn’t going to offer up anything more.
Cass glanced down at Beast, who was happily munching his bone. She tried to order her thoughts. Now that she knew the portrait actually existed, what else did she want to know? Obviously, Leighton wasn’t going to hand over any information, so Cass would just have to figure out the right questions to ask. Maybe if she could figure out who the artist was, she could track the woman through the artist.
Leighton twisted a gold ring with what appeared to be a nice-size marquise-cut diamond around her left ring finger while she waited.
Cass gestured toward the window. “Did you paint all of these?”
A warm smile emerged, and her posture relaxed. “I paint everything in the display window, but I also carry paintings from other local artists inside, if you’d like to see?”
Bingo. Since the painting was displayed in the window, Leighton must have painted it. “I’d love to one day when I can come in without Beast.”
Leighton looked down at him. “Oh, you can bring him in. I love dogs, I was just worried he’d damage something, but look how well behaved he is.”
Cass laughed. “Maybe right at this moment, but trust me, it goes downhill fast.”
“He seems like such a sweetheart. Can I pet him?”
“Sure.”
She tucked her long skirt behind her legs as she squatted, then ruffled the fur on Beast’s head. “What a good boy you are.”
Beast tilted his head into her hand.
She had to figure out a way to get into the shop and find the painting. Without Beast. “I love your work. My friend Bee owns Dreamweaver Designs, and he mentioned wanting to stop in and look at some of your beach paintings for his shop.”
“Thank you.” Leighton stood and brushed sand from Beast’s fur off her hands. “I’d be happy to show him some.”
The shop that now housed the art gallery had stood empty, its windows boarded, all winter long. She hadn’t noticed any work going on in there, then suddenly the gallery opened with no fanfare, no grand opening announcement, no advertising. “How long have you been open?”
“I opened a couple of weeks ago, but my official grand opening will be Memorial Day weekend.” Leighton crossed her arms and leaned against the white window trim. “I’m trying to put the finishing touches on a few more paintings before then.”
“Are you from Bay Island?”
She shook her head. “Nah, I grew up on Long Island, but I used to come here every summer when I was younger. I fell in love with the island and always dreamed of having an art gallery on the boardwalk.”
“Well, congratulations on your unofficial opening.”
Leighton laughed. “Thank you.”
A car horn beeped and Cass looked over her shoulder.
Bee waved as he passed.
Stephanie craned her neck from the passenger seat to see past him.
Cass waved to them and turned back to Leighton. “It was nice meeting you, but I have to run.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Stop in any time, even just to say hello.”
She would definitely be back to find out more about that portrait and what Artie Becker had been doing there, just as soon as she could figure out a tactful way to get the information she wanted. “I will, thanks. Feel free to drop in at Mystical Musings, too.”
They said their good-byes, and Leighton patted Beast’s head before going inside.
Cass headed back toward the shop, relieved to know she hadn’t imagined the painting, but with more questions than answers about who the woman was and why Leighton was so reluctant to discuss her.
Bee and Stephanie met her at the door, and Bee didn’t even wait for her to unlock it before letting loose the inevitable barrage of questions. “What were you doing at the gallery? Was it something to do with Artie Becker? Did she say anything?”
Stephanie just rolled her eyes behind his back.
Cass grinned. “Maybe I just went for a walk and ran into the new gallery owner.”
Bee’s exaggerated eye roll put Stephanie’s to shame. He grinned. “Look, Cass, if you don’t want to tell us what happened, that’s fine, but don’t insult my intelligence by feigning innocence. I know you too well to fall for that, honey.”
She laughed and held the door open for them to enter. “Okay, okay. I went to see what I could find out.”
“That’s better.” He handed her a coffee cup on his way past.
Letting the door fall shut, she flipped the sign to OPEN and followed them toward the back of the shop. She unlocked the back door before joining them at the table. “So, what’d you hear at the deli?”
Stephanie fished a wrapped sandwich out of a brown paper bag and slid it across the table to her. She held another out to Bee.
“Uh-uh.” Bee wagged a finger at her, took the sandwich from Stephanie, then waggled his bushy, dark brown eyebrows. “I’ll only show you mine if you show me yours first.”
She laughed, but sobered quickly, and then flopped into the chair, leaving her sandwich untouched on the table in front of her. “I actually didn’t find out much, just that she has the painting I saw in the window . . .” Well, that actually was an important piece of information. At least, it proved her sanity. Sort of. “And that it’s not for sale. Other than that, I couldn’t get anything out of her.”
“Hmm . . . weird.” He unwrapped his breakfast, then gestured toward Cass’s sandwich. “I got you bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll. I hope that’s all right.”
“It’s fine. Thanks, Bee.”
She didn’t bother to mention that Leighton’s behavior had seemed off when Cass had asked about the portrait. That could very well have been her overactive imagination.
Bee held up a strip of bacon and ordered Beast to sit.
Beast plopped his bottom down on the floor, his whole back end wagging wildly, energy vibrating through him, but he remained firmly planted where he was.
Bee tossed him the bacon strip.
“Hey. How’d you do that?”
Intent on quelling the smug look Bee was currently sporting, she unwrapped her sandwich and took off a piece of bacon, then strode toward Beast and held up the treat. “Beast, sit.”
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He launched himself through the air and snatched the bacon from her hand, then hit the floor, scrambled for purchase on the polished wood, flopped onto his side, and slid into a chair, knocking it over with a loud clatter, eliciting a burst of hysterical laughter from Bee. Beast munched down the bacon without losing so much as a crumb.
She glared at Bee. “Ha-ha.”
Stephanie laughed and shook her head, but refrained from encouraging him, for which Cass was grateful.
He wiped the tears from his face and held up a business card. “Here.”
Still pouting, she plucked the card from his hand. “What’s this?”
“Guess who I ran into at the deli?”
Ignoring him, she read what turned out to be an appointment card. Wednesday, 11:00 A.M. was printed boldly in the center beneath the name Herb Cox.
“No excuses this time, Cass. Mystical Musings is closed on Wednesdays, so there’s no reason you can’t make it.”
She stuffed the card into her purse and mumbled, “Thanks.” It wasn’t that he was wrong. Beast needed to be trained before he ended up hurting someone, but he didn’t have to be so superior about it.
“Quit sulking, Cass, or I won’t tell you what I found out.” He took a big bite of his sandwich.
Cass shot a questioning gaze at Stephanie.
She held up a hand. “Don’t look at me. He picked me up after and refused to tell me a thing.”
Cass picked at her sandwich but finally relented, the need to hear the latest gossip outweighing the need to keep from satisfying Bee. “Fine. What’d you hear?”
“I thought so.” He put his sandwich down on the paper wrapper, brushed the crumbs off his hands, and leaned his forearms on the table. Bee had dirt. “Well, it seems your friend Artie Becker has been making the rounds looking for his daughter. Rumor has it, he’s been to the deli, Tony’s, and the diner. But . . .” He held up a finger. “He’s not the only one.”