I felt a sudden squeeze, and it took me a moment to realize Joy was side-hugging me. Oh, God, when was the last time anyone besides my daughter had hugged me? Ellen, when she visited for a weekend at Christmas. A few colleagues on my last day of work in May. Vince Jordy’s mom and a couple of neighbors the day the “SOLD” sign went up in front of my old house. And Olivia, of course, when I left for Florida. Few and far between, though.
I slowly reached around and side-hugged Joy back. It felt like such a foreign motion.
“There is not a thing wrong with your understanding,” Joy said, letting go and gesturing, her palm making a circle near my head. “I’m the one that’s kinda different, Marianna. My senses are jumbled. They always have been. It’s called synethesia.”
“Oh?” I’d never heard of this. “All of your senses are mixed up?”
Joy shook her head. “Many, but not all. Some synesthetes have perceptions I don’t have. Their way of thinking about numbers, for instance. To them, the integers have personalities, like the number three is a bald, cranky old man with bad breath and a cane. Or their mental number line isn’t straight or from left to right—it loops in unusual spatial patterns within their brain. That doesn’t happen to me. But, I have a friend I got to know in a group online who tastes triangles when she eats broccoli. And smells the scent of chocolate when she hears a D-minor chord. For me, my synethesia is closer to that. The letters of the alphabet and days of the week have colors. Some images and sounds have tastes and textures. And people I meet have auras that I can usually see or feel.” She laughed. “It’s a little odd, I know.”
“It’s fascinating!” I said, truly intrigued and, okay, equally relieved that it wasn’t that I was stupid. “I wish I could do that. Taste chocolate when I hear music. See pink when I think of the letter M.”
Joy exhaled. “No, you don’t. I mean, now—as an adult—I have fun with it. I can be myself around my friends and they don’t blink when I say June is a golden caramel color or that their voices sounds like fruit flavors. But you try doing that when you’re a little kid in Texas with some family members who don’t understand you. Not to mention living in a conservative neighborhood and going to a private school. You tell your teacher Wednesday is green or that her outfit tastes like a lemon lollipop and see what happens. Say enough things like that and people start to think you’re awfully strange. They judge you. They call you names.”
Hard to imagine anyone thinking harshly of Joy. Her name fit her. She was so vibrant and such a gentle being but, clearly, the memory of ridicule still made her flinch. I caught her shivering despite the Florida heat.
“Well, I think it makes you wonderfully unique. And I think you should ignore anyone who says otherwise,” I told Joy. “Your way of perceiving has to add to your gifts as an artist because your designs are so lovely and so original.” I fingered the scallop earrings I was still wearing. “I’m buying these, you know. I’ve seen some really nice pieces today in other shops, but your jewelry is by far my favorite.”
The other lady nibbled on her lip for several seconds. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” she said finally. “Plus, you’re turquoise, so...” She let the thought trail off.
“What does that mean exactly?”
Joy chuckled and opened her mouth, but Lorelei emerged from the backroom. “Well, the boys are still alive,” she informed us. “Praise the good Lord and all the angels on high.”
And a heartbeat later, the front door swung open and Abby returned. “Are we ready to work again?”
“I’ll explain another time,” Joy whispered, nudging me toward the back table. “For now, just know it’s a good thing.”
It occurred to me that I never doubted it would be. Obviously, I wasn’t any kind of synesthete, but I could feel the waves of kindness radiating from Joy. If I were to give that warmth a color, it would be the orangey shade of autumn leaves from when I was a kid. If I were to give it a texture, it would be the downy comfort of the scarf Donny’s mom knit for me during my first winter as a young wife.
As we all got back to the making of the bracelets, I found myself opening up to the women even more than I had before. I confided a little about my life to them. Not all the sad details, of course, but enough so they knew I was staying at my sister’s bungalow on Siesta Key, that I had a daughter in college, an ex-husband, and no real plans for the summer.
“Not true,” Lorelei informed me. “You have very important plans tomorrow and through the weekend. Don’t even think of tryin’ to get out of helping at the Craft Festival now. We need you. Truly.”
I laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare skip out on you guys.” But I was stunned by how grateful I felt to be needed. Even if it was just for a weekend.
As the light faded from St. Armand’s Circle and night arrived with the softness of a caress, I rubbed my eyes. All of me was bleary, but it had been worth it.
“Okay, time to wrap up, y’all,” Joy said. “The beads’ll be waitin’ for us in the morning.” She glanced at her watch. “Nine thirty, can you believe it?”
Lorelei stretched her tall frame. “My back is a believer.”
Abby helped me wrap up the remaining fudge and what was left of the apple cake. I offered her the last bit of the Oreo sample. “One for the road, Abby?”
“Thanks.” Abby popped it into her mouth with a satisfied grin and then reached out to grasp my shoulder in a quick squeeze of gratitude. “I keep expecting it not to taste so good after a while, but that just never happens.” She filled my Fudge Fantasia bag with the extras then added her wrapped-up cake leftovers to it. “You keep the rest of this. I don’t want to be tempted to nibble any more tonight.”
Before I could protest, there was a knock at the door. I shot Joy a puzzled look. She’d locked the shop to customers hours ago. Who’d stop by now?
Joy skittered across the room to answer it, peeking through the window first to check who it was before swinging open the door and chitchatting with her usual friendliness to the person outside.
“Hi, there,” I heard her say.
A male voice replied, “Hi, back. I was just working on the computer, adding up expenses, and I saw your light still on. Everything okay?”
I glanced over at Abby and Lorelei. “Boyfriend?” I mouthed to them.
Abby shook her head, and Lorelei mouthed back, “Brother.”
Ahh. The interesting painter.
I bent down to pick up a crumpled paper napkin that had fallen to the floor. When I stood up again, I heard Joy say, “C’mon in, Gil, and say howdy to the girls.” But when the man stepped through the door, I felt the napkin slip from my hand and my jaw drop.
“Oh, my God,” I murmured. “It’s Elvis.”
Chapter Nine
Hearts of Gold
Abby and Lorelei smothered their laughter, and I hoped neither Joy nor her brother could overhear them. I didn’t think so, not even when Abby whispered, “Yeah, there’s a resemblance.”
Elvis—er, Gil—stepped further into the room, his gaze zeroing in on me with immediate recognition. “Ah, we meet again,” he said, striding toward me and, also, greeting Lorelei and Abby by name. “Did you finally get yourself some Beachwalkers?”
“I did,” I managed to say. “Just today. At Castaways.” His shop, I suddenly realized. “Oh, Joy told me it was your place. That was clever.”
“Sneaky of me, wasn’t it?” He laughed heartily. “But what kind of salesman would I be if I didn’t believe in my own products?”
Joy was staring at us, incredulous. “Y’all know each other already?”
“We ran into each other a few days ago at the beach,” he told his sister. “She was chasing after this wild kid who’d escaped his parents, but—”
“But your brother—who, of course, I didn’t know was your brother until now—was the one who actually caught him,” I explained to Joy. “I tripped and the little boy got away.” I felt my cheeks flush a bit hot at the memory. It was embarrassing to
think back on my klutziness in the face of someone so...agile-looking.
Joy’s lips twisted upward in suppressed delight, but she didn’t immediately comment. She just glanced back and forth between her brother and me. And I couldn’t help but notice a few things. The siblings’ hair colors were different shades. Their complexions were different tones. Their heights were very different as well. But their twinkling baby-blue eyes were identical.
Joy’s brother extended his hand. “We haven’t been formally introduced, though. I’m Gil Canton.”
Somehow, I managed to say my own name and shake his hand. His dwarfed mine, but it was warm. “Nice to officially meet you.”
Joy finally decided to speak. “We were just finishing up with our work here for tonight, Gil. You locking up soon, too?”
“Yep. Was thinking about it. Carter is opening for me at nine tomorrow, so I don’t have to get up early.” He stifled a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”
Joy nodded. “For us, too. But Marianna is helping with the B.E.A.D.S. project now, so I think we’ll actually finish before Saturday.” She beamed a grin in my direction.
Gil seemed to take in all four of us women, one at a time, no doubt reading our faces and assessing our level of exhaustion. I didn’t know if he’d also picked up on the shimmer of excitement just beneath the surface, at least in my case, but I felt his gaze trained on me. Studying me. Drawing conclusions.
“Well, you ladies ought to get some shuteye then,” he said. “I can walk you all out to the lot.”
“Oh, we didn’t park there today,” Joy told him, glancing at her two good friends.
“I picked up Abby and Joy at their condo complex this morning,” Lorelei explained. “And we parked just a few steps down Ringling Boulevard. It was so early, there were still a bunch of spaces when we got here.”
“What about Marianna?” Gil asked, turning his inquiring eyes back on me. “Did you park near them?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed, trying to remember where, exactly, I’d found that spot for my car all those hours ago. “It was on a little side street. Off St. Armand’s Circle. Sort of near Fudge Fantasia.”
The others exchanged a look, and Abby said, “Nope. That’s nowhere near us. But we can drive you to your car. It shouldn’t take us long to find it with it being this late and everything being so empty now.”
“Or, I’d be happy to walk you there,” Gil suggested. “I’m parked in that vicinity. Just give me a couple of minutes to close up my shop.”
I was rendered momentarily mute by his offer. No one had cared enough to see me to my car in a dozen years at least. Donny had never been thoughtful that way, and there had been only a handful of friends and no lovers since he’d left.
Joy shot me a cryptic glance. “Marianna needs to get her stuff regardless, and I have to grab a few things from the backroom. We’ll be back in a sec.” Joy motioned for me to follow her. “I noticed you got really quiet,” she whispered when we were alone. “This is totally your call. I can vouch for Gil being a gentleman and, well, he’s my brother. I know he’s a good guy. But if you don’t feel comfortable having him walk you to your car, we can overrule him. Just say the word, and we’ll drive you to where you parked instead.”
I realized my new friend had completely misinterpreted the reason for my silence. “It’s okay if he walks me,” I managed to say, my pulse kicking up a notch at the prospect of getting to chat with Gil alone for a few minutes. “I trust your feelings about him. He seemed to be a really good guy when I met him at the beach, and now knowing he’s your brother...well...”
I didn’t have a chance to finish the thought before Joy interrupted. “Oh, good!” Joy snatched up her tote bag and her keys. “Because I can tell he’d like to talk with you for longer. You must have made quite an impression on him when you first met.”
She could tell he’d like to talk with me for longer? How could she tell?
I opened my mouth to ask, but all that came out was, “What color is he, Joy?”
She laughed. “Very aquamarine,” she said immediately, then paused. “That’s complementary to turquoise, you know. Not just the shade but the aura.” Then she dashed out of the room before I could question her further.
“Ready?” Abby asked.
Joy nodded and jingled her keys in the air. “Okay, y’all. We’re set. Gil, you can walk Marianna to her car. Lorelei and Abby, same time tomorrow morning?”
Lorelei piped up. “I’ll be in front of your building at seven forty-five.”
Abby grabbed her purse. “Works for me.”
“Great.” Joy turned to me. “I know I roped you into this for tomorrow, too, and I’m not letting you off the hook,” Everyone laughed. “But, you don’t have to show up here at the crack of dawn either. We’ll be around from eight a.m. onward. If you want to come at eight thirty or nine or even nine thirty—”
“I’ll be here at eight as well,” I said decisively. “You can count on it.”
This earned her another heartfelt smile from Joy. Abby clapped. And Lorelei said, “Thank you, honey.”
As for Gil, I was too self-conscious to glance at him in order to gauge his reaction, but I sensed positive vibes coming from his general direction.
As Joy locked up The Beaded Periwinkle, her brother disappeared into Castaways to close up for the night, too. He emerged in less than three minutes with a tan leather briefcase, one of the shop’s plastic bags, and a large sketchpad.
Everyone said their goodnights. Then Gil and I began strolling away from the other women, toward Fudge Fantasia.
It was a pleasant evening. Still hot by Midwestern standards, but I’d begun to appreciate that about being here. I liked that it felt different. Tropical. Reminded me that I wasn’t living the same old, same old—however temporarily.
“So, when you were in the backroom with Joy, the ladies told me that you all had just met today. That you came down from Mirabelle Harbor for the summer.”
“That’s right,” I replied, but something about the way he phrased the question snagged at my memory. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it poked at me.
“Do you have family in the area?” he asked.
I shook my head. “My sister and her husband live in New Haven, Connecticut, and my daughter is up in Ann Arbor, Michigan going to college. My ex-husband is somewhere in California,” I added, trying to drain the natural tension that crept into my voice at the mere mention of that asshat. “That’s the only family I have left.”
Not that I really considered Donny my family anymore, of course, but I was aware of wanting to let Gil know that, once upon a time, albeit a long while ago, someone had wanted to marry me. And that, despite surviving the hellfire of divorce, I was also strong enough to have weathered it. That I’d now moved beyond it and, maybe, was even on amicable terms with my ex. Joy’s brother wouldn’t have to know the whole truth. Wouldn’t have to fully understand how the demise of those illusions of everlasting love still ripped my heart to shreds. And, honestly, I wouldn’t be in Florida long enough for it to matter.
“Ah,” he said, not unkindly. “Most of my family is here now. Sister in Sarasota, as you know. Our mom, too. A few relatives back in Texas.” He shrugged. “It’s easy to keep track of the important ones when there are only a few.”
I nodded in agreement, but didn’t fail to notice that he didn’t mention a wife—past or present. I also noticed there were no references to a girlfriend. Interesting. I never would have imagined someone so attractive would be single.
“A couple of my employees have a bunch of siblings and at least a hundred cousins. I have no idea how they deal with that family craziness over the holidays.” He smiled as we strolled by the fudge shop, and he pointed down the street. “You still further down the block?”
“Yes,” I said, finally recalling both the general area of my parking spot and the odd thing about his phrasing. Unlike Joy’s style of talking, there were no “y’alls” in his speech. And
the way he pronounced his words didn’t sound remotely Texan either. That was odd. “Joy has more of a Texan accent than you do,” I observed. “It’s not an overwhelming drawl in her case, but it’s noticeably there. Did she live in Texas for longer than you?”
He eyed me carefully with those curious baby blues, taking several long strides before he spoke. “Our parents divorced when she was eleven and I was eighteen,” he explained. “She was a minor, and I was a legal adult when our mom moved us to Florida. So, I actually never went back to Texas, whereas Joy was shuttled back and forth to San Antonio for seven more years.”
I tried to process this new information, conscious of the fact that there had to have been details he left out. He’d never been back to Texas...in over twenty years? Did he see his father only when the man came to Florida then? “So, uh, does your dad still live there?”
There was a lengthy pause yet again as Gil made a show out of scanning one of the side streets for parked cars. He was stalling. Fascinating! I couldn’t help but wonder why.
Finally, he glanced over at me and nodded. “Yes, from what I hear,” he said briefly, not allowing time for follow-up questions. He cleared his throat and with an abrupt change of subject said, “I have a present for you.” He thrust the plastic Castaways bag at me.
I squinted up at him as I took it. These Canton siblings were very generous people. I’d gotten more gifts from Gil and his sister that day than I’d gotten from anybody other than Olivia, Ellen, or Kathryn in several years. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“Open it.”
So I did. Inside, under a layer of tissue paper, was the beach towel with the picnic scene on it. “Oh! I was admiring this one today,” I told him. “I loved it. It’s so creative. But, um—” I paused. “You really don’t need to give me—”
“Marianna,” he interrupted, his voice strangely stern. “I’m the owner of the store. I can give away whatever I want, to whomever I want, whenever the mood strikes me.” Even in the dark, I could see his blue eyes glinting and his attractive features forming an expression of amusement. “I’d sort of tricked you into visiting Castaways. If you’d come in there while I was working, I would have insisted on giving it to you then, just for taking a chance on my place. New customer special.”
Stranger on the Shore (Mirabelle Harbor, Book 4) Page 8