Mavis Chambers shook hands with me daintily, and arranged her set of boards and blotters across her section of table. “I think it’s quite nice what you’re doing,” Mavis said, examining her bingo boards. “If I had enough capital to invest, I’d like to open my own business.”
“What type of business, Mavis?” Grandma Betty asked.
“Dolls, of course,” she answered. “Buy, sell, trade. I do that already, online, thanks to Ronnie. But, it would be so nice to go to work every day to a room full of beautiful, perfect little dolls.” Her eyes lit up and her smile grew.
“You are a nut case,” Ray Crackle chimed in. “Who’d buy that crap?”
Mavis took a steady breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Then, she turned to me and said, “This is exactly why I prefer my inanimate family.” My eyes widened, and I quickly turned my gaping mouth into a smile.
Bingo began and went badly. For a game that required no skill, I was terrible. By the time we broke for intermission, the experienced gamers at the table were looking at my two boards and shaking their heads in disbelief.
“You must be bad luck,” Ray Crackle proclaimed, before changing seats. “You can’t get two side by side, and you’re bringing down the whole table!”
My stomach felt uneasy, and a dull pain teased my temples.
Returning to the fellowship hall after a trip to Seaside Baptist’s bathroom, I passed Mavis Chambers on her phone.
“Is everything ready?” she asked. She had one finger pressed into her exposed ear, though the only noises in the hall were my muted footsteps, a door closing in the distance, and the rattle and hum of the AC unit.
“Yes, I have a Corrine. Mint condition. She’s a peach!” she relayed to the caller. I pictured her inanimate family, her dolls, and a shiver slipped through me.
The second half didn’t get any better. Teague’s hand came across the table to my boards. I looked over at him. He smiled.
“You missed B12 and O63,” he said. “Bingo’s not your game?”
“Can’t focus,” I admitted, rubbing my left temple. The headache beat against the inside of my skull.
“I need some air.” I handed Grandma Betty my boards and left the table, much to the surprise (and maybe relief) of all the diehard Bingo players.
Seaside Baptist isn’t oceanfront, but the ocean’s teasing breezes reached me anyway. I stood outside the building, breathing it in and looking up at a bright moon. I felt instant relief.
Teague joined me a few moments later. “You okay?”
The ocean breezes mixed with his smell, something like coconut and cocoa butter. I took a deep breath.
“Headache,” I told him. Teague pointed to a nearby bench underneath an enormous magnolia tree.
“Let’s sit,” he said. I obeyed. I leaned back against the wood rails and rested my neck against the top one, so that my eyes pointed up to the darkened sky. I closed them.
“Do you trust me?” Teague asked.
I chuckled at the question, and spat out a definite, “No.”
He laughed, having not received the answer he expected. “Just relax. I’m just going to-” He stopped talking and I felt the tips of his fingers on my temples. Instantly, I tensed up.
“I really don’t need for you to do that,” I started. “I’ll be fine if I can just rest my eyes. It’s just that with all that’s been going on, I’m a little overwhelmed, and with the crowded bingo room and the noise and those dreadful lights in there, that old person smell, and all the dust I’m kicking up at the store, it must be getting to my sinuses… I just-”
“Stop talking.”
I obeyed. The gentle pressure of his hands took over. Slowly, the tension slipped away, like I’d just settled into a warm bath.
“Want to hear a story?” Teague asked. I glanced up at him, and he grinned.
“Does it have a happy ending?”
Teague chuckled. “Not sure yet, but I’m betting it will.” His fingers were strong against my skin, but soft at the same time. I couldn’t believe he was touching me, that he wanted to, and I wondered, was this in his job description? Cats out of trees, ladies down dunes, and headache relief?
“Before I came back to Tipee,” he started quietly, “I worked in Nags Head. One night, we responded to a robbery in progress at a 7-11, armed gunman, got away with a few hundred bucks and several cartons of cigarettes. Just as I pulled up, a green Ford Taurus sped out of the parking lot, nearly taking out a pedestrian. It had to be the perp. So, I pursued him. He was bold, desperate, driving up on the sidewalks, running through red lights. Anyway, the guy made a couple of clever turns and dropped out of sight. I came to an intersection and had to decide which way to go.”
“How did you choose?”
“It’s our natural instinct to turn right,” he said. “Easier, quicker. I guessed that in a high-stress situation, a perp would act on instinct. So, I turned right.”
“Did you find him?”
“I spotted a green Ford Taurus,” he went on, still rubbing my temples gently. “He was driving normally. I assumed that he had tried to blend in, knowing that he’d lost me. I pulled him over without incident. He was this very nervous, young black kid, said he was a college student. Anyway, we detained him, searched the car. Found a bag of pot, but no gun, money, or stolen cigarettes.”
I opened my eyes again. “So, was he the robber?”
Teague shook his head. “Nope, I got the wrong guy.”
I shrugged. “That’s an easy mistake. At least you got him for the drugs.”
“Mistake is right. The kid ended up being the mayor’s son’s college roommate,” Teague went on. “He was in Nags Head to visit the mayor’s house. Not knowing that, I booked him for the drugs, and brought him in for questioning as a suspect in the robbery. I figured he could’ve ditched the goods when we lost sight of him. When the mayor found out, he went ballistic. The media got a hold of the story and instead of it being a mistaken identity case leading to a drug bust, it ended up being racial profiling leading to false arrest. I got fired.”
“You’re kidding,” I replied, eyes open again.
“Nope.” He breathed out heavily. “Tipee was the only department that would take me then and only because I knew people. At the time, I thought I’d fallen into a shit pit and I couldn’t claw my way out it-”
“Shit pit,” I repeated with a smile. “How poetic. Did it get better once you were here?”
He chuckled. “Not for a while. The department was torn about me. The ones who knew me from way back, ragged on me relentlessly. The ones who didn’t know me, like my partner Williams, assumed the stories were true, that I was a racist. Took a while for my friends to get bored with me and for the rest to become friends.”
“Can’t imagine anyone thinking you’re a racist,” I remarked.
“People’ll believe anything. How’s your head?” he asked.
“Better,” I smiled. “Thank you.” Teague stopped my head massage and came around the bench. He sat down next to me.
“Anytime,” he replied.
“So, what are you trying to tell me with all this, Teague?” I urged. “I’m sure that’s not a story you share just for the hell of it.”
He laughed. “You’re right. I don’t. We all screw up, Delilah. It sucks, but it gets better. If that hadn’t happened, I’d probably still be there and that would have been an even bigger mistake. There were a lot of things about my life that I needed to change. God took what I’d done, my mistakes, and used them to give me nudges about my life.”
“Nudges?”
“Yeah, nudges. I needed them,” he sighed. “Mistakes can lead to blessings eventually.”
I grinned. “I still don’t want to make any more of them.”
“You do a lot better than you give yourself credit for,” Teague returned. “You’re opening up in three days, in spite of everything. You should be very proud.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
“You�
�re awfully nice to me,” I noted.
He grinned. “Weird, huh?” The phone in his pocket beeped and buzzed. He answered, stepping away to take the call.
He returned with, “I have to go to work. Better get Aunt Bev.”
“I can take her home,” I offered.
“Sure you don’t mind?”
“Go. I’ll take care of her,” I replied with a smile. He squeezed my arm gently and started to walk away. A few steps later, he turned.
Teague hesitated for a second, and then said, “Delilah, may I take you to breakfast in the morning? 8:00?”
I wanted to say no, but somehow I said, “Yes.”
Chapter Fourteen
Octopus
The female octopus only mates once in her life, and that’s because the one time kills her. After a single romantic interlude, she spends a month fasting while taking care of her unhatched eggs. But, it’s not starvation that gets her in the end. Her body is genetically programmed to kick the bucket after her eggs hatch. She is simply done.
A positive person might look upon this scientific fact as rather romantic. Having lived life and then enjoyed what had to have been a beautiful encounter, the female knows that nothing could come close to surpassing it, so she dies.
I am not a positive person.
The female octopus probably waits until the absolute last moment of her precious life to give in to that genetic need to reproduce, and in the end is so disappointed with the whole thing that she dies out of despair.
Disappointment and dating go together.
Thursday morning. Two days until the grand reopening of Beach Read, and instead of preparing, I’m waiting. It’s 8:43.
I woke early, and took a short jaunt over to Grandma Betty’s house for a real shower. The shower at the store is okay. It’s a narrow box with dim lighting, and though it gets the job done, it’s hard to shave my legs. Having asked her permission at the end of bingo, I arrived at her house just after 6:00. Took a long, hot shower, dressed, had coffee, and got back to the store by 7:30. I should have stayed in bed.
My phone rang at 8:45, and I answered with an exceptionally chipper, “Hello?”
“I’m sorry,” Teague said. “We’re on a call, and I’ve gotten – well, I’m running late-”
“Late for what?”
“Breakfast,” he returned.
“Oh, that’s right. It’d slipped my mind,” I said. “You know, I have so much work to do, it’s probably best. Let’s just forget the whole thing.” Teague got distracted by someone on his end, and fortunately had to go.
By 10:00, Beach Read received a huge shipment of books that I’d ordered. Boxes filled up the floor. I was thrilled to have something new to occupy my thoughts. Aunt Laura had left me with a decent supply, but I enjoyed choosing a slew of newer titles.
Aunt Laura also left behind an ancient yellow pricing gun, and several spools of stickered tape. Once I figured out how to use it, it became a handy ally. I priced each book with careful consideration, slapping the neon sticker across the ISBN number on the back.
Tapping at the door set Willie into a fit of barks and made me jump. I yanked the door open, sending the chimes into their clinging tangent.
Teague smiled warmly at me, and when he eyed the pricing gun in my hand, he said, “Don’t shoot.” I rolled my eyes, and moved out of the way so he could come in.
“You look busy,” he noted, glancing around at my boxes. “Is that why you haven’t answered my last two phone calls?” I looked at him perplexed. My phone sat on the counter. I picked it up and showed him that it was dead.
“Ah,” he nodded. “Thought you might be mad at me.” I plugged the phone into the charger. He leaned against the counter and continued with, “I should’ve known better – making a date for breakfast. Never know what might happen. But, I hoped that it might be a slow night and I wanted to see you as soon as I could. That was the soonest.”
I continued working on my books, unfazed. “Turned out to be a good thing. When I saw the UPS guy, I knew I had too much to do anyway, so it was good you’d stood me up. Gave me time to come to my senses. What were you saying last night about mistakes turning into blessings?”
He chuckled, “Oh, so you are mad. I’d be offended if I weren’t so touched.” I stood with my back against a stack of boxes, and Teague stepped closer.
“I’m sorry,” Teague said softly, “truly.” His eyes pulled me in, and kept me prisoner in that spot. “You ever been in one of those situations?” he went on. “All night I was watching the clock, hoping the minutes would go by quicker and then, just at the finish line, we got this call, a stupid disturbance over in the Breakers. Then I wanted the clock to stand still, so I wouldn’t disappoint you. Reminded me of being back in high school, waiting for the bell to ring so I could get to the beach. I haven’t had a night that long in ages.”
His fingers brushed my arm. “Forgive me?” he asked.
I huffed and ducked away. “I don’t have time for this. I have about ten boxes of books to price and organize on the shelves,” I listed off. “Then, once that’s done I have to create an inventory, which’ll be a trick since I don’t have a computer. I have to work on learning the register, getting set up at the bank, getting enough money for the till, how to do credit cards… I have a ton of stuff I need to do, is the gist of what I’m saying.”
He smiled, and I knew he was thinking about my nervous talking again.
“Let me help,” he offered, grabbing the pricing gun out of my hand. “I can handle this thing.” He pulled the trigger, sending a sticker out of the chamber, which he then set on my nose. He snickered. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the inevitable smile that escaped. “I’d pay $10.95 for you,” he said with a laugh. I snatched the price tag away, balled it up between my fingers, and tossed it at him.
“You’d be more of a distraction than a help,” I returned.
“Let’s go to brunch or lunch. Whatever you want. I’m all yours.” I let another smile slip, and scrutinized his tempting invitation.
“That’s a scary thought,” I smiled. The mail spilled into the front door’s slot. I headed for it, thankfully. I gathered up the few pieces of mail, going through them as I did, and my eyes fell on a familiar envelope. My name and address were scribbled across the front, but the return address was my former high school. I ripped it open.
“Everything okay?” Teague asked. I didn’t answer.
Inside the business-size envelope was only a small, blue sticky note. The top read From the Desk of Jonathan Dekker and the handwritten part read simply miss me? My shoulders fell. The rest of the mail tumbled from my fingers. My heart seized.
Clark must have told him where I was. My stomach curled.
“What is it?” Teague asked. He headed over to me, but I balled up the note and the envelope before he could get there. I held them tightly in my hand.
“Nothing,” I answered quietly.
“No, really. Tell me,” he noted, a worried look blanketed on his face. “What’s wrong?”
I gave him a very big smile, and said, “Nothing’s wrong. Just an enormous bill that I wasn’t expecting. You know what, though? I really think you should go-”
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “A bill?”
“Yes, a bill,” I bit back.
“You ball up all your bills like that? Let me see it,” he said, holding out his hand.
“No, it’s none of your business. You should go. You need sleep, and I need-”
“What do you need?” Teague urged.
I hesitated.
About a dozen smart ass answers popped into my mind, but his concerned face disarmed me. It would have been enough that he had these piercing, soulful eyes that made me feel naked. But, to combine those eyes with a strong face, the kind you couldn’t possibly get tired of staring at, beautiful blond hair that made me want to run my fingers through it, and soft lips that curved into the kindest of smiles… Well, it hardly seemed like God was playi
ng fair.
I looked down at the floor. I suppose it was that innate quality about me, the part that says I-need-someone told me to just drop everything and go eat with him. Just give in. The louder part of me reminded me of the dead female octopi, the balled up note in my hand, the long wait this morning, and of course the misery thirteen years ago – that was never far from my thoughts.
“I need to be alone,” I said finally. Moments later, Teague left.
Chapter Fifteen
Calm
Sailors detect approaching storms, sometimes, by the quiet preceding them. When a weather system moves in, it can create a change in the air, which feels like a peaceful stillness, hence the expression “the calm before the storm.” I found myself in this pocket the Friday before my planned grand opening. The sign on the door boasted a proud one. I couldn’t wait.
Work on the apartment had moved fast; Damon and his crew were nearing completion. So, on Friday morning, I hit up the Piggly Wiggly for orange juice, fruit, muffins, and bagels. I carried the bags into the store and set up a mini-buffet on the counter. Then, I walked around the back of the building, where I ran directly into Darryl Chambers. He smiled.
“Good morning, Ms. Duffy,” he greeted. His hand was bandaged from his recent fight with the dumpster. “Sorry I scared you the other day. Me and my brother are like oil and water sometimes. You know what that’s like. You’ve got a kinda crazy family, too.”
“Call me Delilah,” I returned. “You’re working on Damon’s crew, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s my main job lately. Quit Via’s.”
“No more beating up bad guys?” I smiled. He chuckled.
“I’m sure I’ll still do a little of that,” he kidded.
“I have breakfast for everyone,” I informed him, “in the store.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Darryl grinned. “I’ll go tell the others. I was really happy when Damon said we were going to work on your apartment. I feel like I already know you-”
Another worker got his attention and called him over. I returned to the store. A few minutes later, the store bustled with construction workers digging into the food I’d set up. The only other thing Darryl Chambers said to me was, “I’m goin’ finish that light fixture before your grand openin’, Ms. Duffy” referring to the chandelier I bought from The Cotton Exchange.
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 7