“We’re happy to be back. What’s new and exciting on the island for this season?”
“Well, there’s a new chef over at West Bay Inn. Be sure to take a ride over there. You won’t be sorry. Oh, and there’s a new store you and your friend would probably like. I can’t remember the name of the place, but you can’t miss it. There’s a giant mermaid in the front yard.”
“A mermaid? Did you hear that, June? That sounds interesting.”
“Maybe that’s one of the new boutiques I need to check out for my magazine article. Sounds good.”
Just then I heard Hammond groan. “Oh greaaaat.”
I smiled like the Cheshire cat as I looked up from the neatly tied nautical knot I had just executed to see the lovely red door of Ruby’s Treasure Chest glowing just across the way beneath the brightly-lit “Open” sign.
Chapter Five
There was still plenty of daylight left when we arrived, but my internal dinner bell was indicating it was close to mealtime. “Who’s up for pizza and beer at Caddy Shack?” I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t even finished unpacking my bag, but I had a sudden urge for the local restaurant’s signature white pizza. They did amazing things with spinach, tomatoes, feta cheese, olive oil, and pistachio nuts.
Hamm was busy unfolding our marine bicycles that had been stashed in the aft cabin during the ride over. “Let me get this finished up here and we’ll go. I’m pretty hungry too, and their mushroom and onion pizza is really good.”
“Hey, June!” I started to ask her what she was in the mood for, but before I got out my next sentence, I saw her standing on the grass, facing the parking lot and the street beyond. She was already at work, snapping photos of Ruby’s boutique with her zoom lens. In spite of her unconventional appearance, June was focused and professional when it came to her job. When she heard the mention of food, however, it was all over.
“Sausage, ground beef, pepperoni, and ham for me!” called June over her shoulder. “And Corona with lime. I’m ready!”
Sometimes I was the teeniest bit jealous of my friend’s ability to consume mass quantities of food and never add an ounce to her lithe frame. She was built like a ballerina and had the stamina of a marathon runner despite the fact I had never seen her do a pirouette or lace up a pair of serious running shoes. I, on the other hand, had to be constantly vigilant to maintain my size-eight figure. Three summers ago, while on this very island, I was forced to head over to the Village Peddler to purchase a pair of shorts with “emergency elastic.” That fall, I joined Weight Watchers and the local gym and vowed never to return to that state of affairs again. I did miss eating cheese and chips with utter abandon sometimes, but I much prefer the way my new and improved fit and curvy figure looked and felt in my clothes.
Watching Hamm and June, I felt like I was the only one being unproductive, so I went back to the job of unpacking my suitcase. I hung all my clothes in the closet, arranged my shoes beneath them, and stashed the towels on a designated shelf in the bedroom cupboard. Pretty soon everything was “ship shape,” and as soon as Hamm had the bikes properly assembled, the three of us met under the willow tree.
“I still have to rent a bike so I can get to my overnight digs,” June reminded us.
“We can all walk up to the marina office together,” I suggested. “Hamm has to pay for our dockage, and the golf cart and bike rental place is right next door, and if they’re already closed, we can always pay them in the morning.”
“That’s cool,” June replied.
“I’ll ride my bike and meet you girls at the office.” Hamm hopped on his bike, adjusted his gears, and took off at a leisurely pace.
“I’ll need a bike with a basket,” June said. “I have to get my clothes and camera gear over to the bed and breakfast, and I’m sure not hauling all that stuff on foot!”
June and I walked my bike up the service road, one on either side, each of us holding on to a handlebar. “What a beautiful day!” I commented, for about the tenth time.
“And I’m actually getting paid to be here,” June answered. “Life doesn’t get much better.”
It was about 4:30, so luckily, there was still about a half hour until the marina office closed. By the time we arrived at the office, Hamm had already settled up with the dockmaster and was sitting at a picnic table near the entrance. He was talking to a very handsome dog who apparently wanted to be his new best friend.
“What breed of dog is that?” I had never seen such a big, goofy dog with such a sweet expression.
The dog’s owner informed me, “He’s a golden doodle, but he’s mostly doodle. His name is Joe.”
Hamm stood up and gave Joe one last, friendly head rub. “See you later, Joe! Francie, I’ll ride back to the boat, and put the dockage ticket in the window. I assume June will want to gather her stuff before we head into town so she can check into her room.”
Once again, I wasn’t sure if he was being considerate or just making sure June was all settled in and wouldn’t decide to spend the night with us on the boat. Either way, it was a good plan and we went with it.
June chose a school bus-yellow bicycle with a roomy wicker basket fastened to the front handlebars and a silver carrier rack attached to the rear fender.
“This should do it,” she announced, handing her business account credit card to the sales attendant.
We hopped on our respective rides, turned back toward the boat dock, and took off. “Last one back’s a rotten egg!” June shouted as she blasted past me.
“Was that a slam on my name?” I countered.
“Don’t be so sensitive, Doc!” she shouted over her shoulder, leaving me in the dust.
I realized I wasn’t as speedy as I once was. I wasn’t exactly huffing and puffing, but I was remembering a little wistfully how Hamm and I used to ride our twenty-one-speed bikes at home for fun and exercise almost every evening. It was typical back then to log eight to ten miles a day during the week and up to twenty-five miles over the weekend. But that was years ago. We still own those fancy bikes, but now they are mostly collecting dust in the garage. Nowadays, I look forward to tooling around the island on our less deluxe, but more functional marine bikes. It’s definitely preferable to paying the tourist’s special price of twenty dollars an hour for a golf cart.
Minutes later, June was bouncing off her rented bike, grabbing her essentials, and standing back on the dock grinning, all before I had come to a full and complete stop. Damn girl hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Hamm was also waiting on the dock. “Can we go eat now? I’m hungry.” He tucked a cigar in his pocket for later and made sure he had his lighter.
“First stop, Lakeshore Landing.” The inn where June would be staying was located just west of the Marina on E. Lakeshore Drive. June smiled sweetly in Hamm’s direction. “Did you happen to notice that it’s just two doors down from Ruby’s?”
We rode the short distance and Hamm glanced nervously up the street. “I’ve been bushwhacked. I should have known better. I give up. You girls go on in and get it over with. I’ll wait right here by the rock.”
June and I crossed the road and stopped in front of the rambling lakefront home that had been converted into three guest rooms, each with air conditioning and a view of the lake. We hopped off our bikes, forgetting about the usefulness of kickstands. I gave Hamm a big smile and a wave and called out, “Love you!”
After completing the necessary paperwork for check-in and dropping off her bags, June and I hopped back on our bikes, rode across the parking lot and down a short length of sidewalk, and stopped, smiling at the big red door of Ruby’s Treasure Chest. Our favorite store would be open for at least another hour.
I hesitated at the door and looked across the street where Hammond was leaning against the wooden railing in front of Inscription Rock.
“Go on inside, June. I’ll be in in a minute. I think I’ll go make sure Hamm is all right over there.”
“Suit yourself. I’m sure I can amuse myse
lf.”
I crossed the road and stood next to Hamm, who was just reaching in his pocket to retrieve the Ashton cigar and lighter he had stashed earlier. He was staring at Inscription Rock, the thirty-two by twenty-one inch limestone rock covered with one of the finest examples of aboriginal art in the Great Lakes region.
“It’s amazing to think of how long ago those unusual drawings were created, don’t you think?”
“Well, if you ask me,” answered my husband, “those petroglyphs look more like dollar signs with wings, laughing shoes, and defeated men than the writings of ancient indigenous people.”
“Hey, man, you dropped this.” A fit man in running attire stood in front of Hammond, holding his lighter. Hammond snapped out of his preoccupied musings to greet the man who now stood in front of us. He was younger than Hamm, probably closer in age to me and June, but his handsome, serious face had the look of someone who had been through some rough times. His biceps made it clear that it would not be a good idea to challenge him to an arm wrestling match, or any other contest of physical prowess for that matter. His running shoes were not meant to be stylish; they had obviously logged some serious hours of pavement pounding.
“Wow. Thanks. I was just killing time while my wife and her friend go across the street behind the evil red door and do God only knows what to my credit card.”
“Hi. I’m Francie, Hamm’s wife. I’m not doing any damage just yet, but I can accomplish quite a bit in a very short time.” I flashed him my sweetest smile.
“I’ve heard of such things,” said the man. He directed his next comment to Hamm. “You’re either keeping close tabs on your ladies, or you’re hungry and they tricked you with the promise of food.”
“The second option. I’m just passing the time while they do some shopping, plotting some night maneuvers.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, don’t mind him. Every time we come here, Hamm says the same thing. He’s going to carry out clandestine night maneuvers and burn the place down. That way he won’t have to go into shock every time the credit card bill arrives.”
The stranger held on to Hamm’s lighter for a long second before extending his hand to return it. “I’m Jack Morgan. I live here on the island. Maybe I’ll see you around. Good luck making it to dinner.”
“Thanks! That was a gift from my wife.” I smiled sweetly at the handsome stranger so he was sure to understand what a loving thoughtful wife I was.
“I noticed the inscription. Interesting name. Hammond is it?”
“Yes, you can call me Hamm though. We come over to the island a lot. This weekend we’re docked right over there at Seaway. Stop down for a drink later if you want. I’d buy you one, but I probably won’t have any money left when they’re through in there. The boat’s name is Lucky Enough.”
“I just may do that. Nice meeting you both.” After shaking hands with Hamm and nodding in my direction, Jack Morgan got right back into his stride, making it look easy.
I took one more admiring look at the runner’s physique as he strode off down the road and then remembered why I was here to begin with. “I’ll be right across the street, sweetie. Enjoy your cigar!”
Chapter Six
I pulled open the red door to Ruby’s Treasure Chest and immediately saw that June was already in the back of the store, camera in hand, pencil in mouth, and notebook tucked under her arm. I stood just inside the entrance, taking it all in. The walls were covered with unique sculptures, wall hangings, and decorative art, all with a beachy or nautical theme. The right side of the shop held shelf upon shelf of beautiful items for the home, cottage, or boat. My eye was drawn immediately to a glass serving dish in the shape of a fish sparkling with the colors of the sea. I could picture it on the kitchen table of the condo. I was heading toward it to check out the price tag when June’s voice interrupted my progress.
“Oh, Ruby, the shop looks wonderful! You’ve really expanded your inventory this year, and that means I’m going to have to expand my own. The hard part of course is that it’s going to be impossible to choose between sunglasses, a jacket, or one of those great tote bags. And then there’s this entire section back here that I haven’t even looked into yet. I’m working on an article, you know, about, you know, the new, fun stuff you’ve added to the shop.”
Ruby Burns stood behind the glass front counter watching June through her signature red rhinestone eyeglasses. Her sturdy body was sheathed in black, but she was in no way somber-looking. Her perfectly manicured, bright red fingernails and toenails matched the shade of her patent leather, low-heeled sandals as well as her name. The wedding ring on her left hand was nothing if not a work of art combining a band of princess-cut diamonds with double bands of blood-red rubies above and below. Everything about her added to her memorable persona.
“For a writer, that June really has a way with words.” Ruby’s raspy voice was friendly and welcoming in spite of its deep timbre. She chuckled to herself, tucking a strand of her no-nonsense, gun-metal gray hair behind her ear.
“If you have any questions about anything at all, or if you’d like to try something on, just let me know.”
“Thanks Ruby. I might have to get some details from you about some of this stuff. For my article, of course.”
“Of course, dear. Anything I can do to help.”
After I was finished eavesdropping on June and Ruby’s conversation, I took my time perusing the rest of the aisles and shelves. There were at least five other items I could easily have taken home with me, but I kept going back to the fish plate that caught my eye when I first walked in. I was pretty sure it was coming home with me, but then I remembered the rack of designer scarves that was always located in the back corner of the store. I picked up a gorgeous Versace silk infinity scarf in shades of green, aqua, and light blue and held it up against my cheek. How could a simple length of fabric feel so luxurious against my skin? I checked out my reflection in the mirror, but as soon as I saw the price reflected back at me, I put it down. Quickly. Time for a reality check. I lived in the real world, but it was always fun to fantasize once in a while. Moving on to the last display, I was faced with the one thing that I have always had an absolute true weakness for—a beautiful handbag. I owned a respectable collection already, but it seemed there was always room for just one more. I couldn’t resist a well-made, soft leather bag in either a traditional or trendy color. I look for lots of interior pockets, a sturdy shoulder strap, and above all, excellent workmanship. No matter where I go, or what I’m doing, I always have a large, beautiful handbag, and it always contains an impressive array of very useful “stuff.” I could justify shelling out three figures for a great bag, and I was just about to do just that.
I reeled myself back in from temptation, reminding myself that I needed to get my mind off of spending money and back to supporting my friend in her research. Stepping away from the shelf of temptation, I took one last lap around the perimeter of the store. Something caught my eye, and I walked over to the staircase that led up to Ruby’s office space to check it out. Beautiful, jewel-toned cut-glass bottles were arranged in a pallet at the foot of the staircase, catching the light from the window and shooting rainbow laser beams up the stairs and onto the ceiling. I came full circle and approached the front counter, directing my attention to the proprietor.
“Ruby, the shop really does look great! I think the thing I like best about your place is that everything is always authentic as well as beautiful. You really go out of your way to find local artists, and name brand products that are perfect for your customers. We never have to worry about getting tricked with fakes or counterfeits in here.”
A dark cloud skittered across Ruby’s expression, but she recovered quickly, broke out her famous smile, and exclaimed in a confident tone, “Oh, I know just what you need!” She beckoned me over to the showcase where she was standing and waved her hand toward the display of sterling silver and crystal beads.
I felt like the proverbial kid in
a candy store as I leaned over the sparkling glass case. “You probably put that bead with the wine glasses right up front because you knew I’d be here this weekend!”
“I can box that right up for you, sweetie!” And she did.
Ruby handed me back my husband’s credit card along with the small red gift bag. I have never left her shop without one. She was staring out the front window, her gaze coming to rest on the spot where Hamm was nervously shifting from foot to foot. I followed her line of sight, and when I saw what she was looking at, I laughed out loud.
“My poor husband is a little pathetic, don’t you think? He teases me constantly about the money I spend here, and how we’d be able to afford a bigger boat if your store would just disappear. It’s all just an act, of course.” I took my purchase and glanced out the window just as that gorgeous specimen of male anatomy jogged past the store again, apparently on his way back from wherever it was he came from. He came to a stop in front of Hamm. They had a short conversation, all the while Jack Morgan never stopped moving his feet. He checked his fancy heart rate and pulse-monitoring watch and waved a friendly good-bye as he headed back to complete his evening workout. I might take up jogging too if I had such beautiful scenery to look forward to every day, and I don’t necessarily mean the lake and the beach.
Ruby’s gaze shifted from the window back toward the corner of the store where June had just discovered the section containing the merchandise she needed to “research.” There were beautifully scented oil-infused candles, romantic CDs, decadent chocolates in red and gold wrappings, even some tastefully sexy lingerie. Nothing lewd or cheesy here. June picked up a silky emerald green camisole. She had an odd, dreamy look on her face.
Handing the expensive nightwear over the counter to be wrapped and ribboned, June commented, “Ruby, these things are fabulous, the best on the island, I’m sure. But now I need something to compare and contrast them with, if you know what I mean. My boss tells me there’s a new boutique on the island that might be perfect for my article.”
Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) Page 3