A Dead Market
Page 12
And then he smiled at me, his eyes sparkling. “Do you know that crabs carry their homes on their back?”
I shook my head, and my fingers went back to my mouth. This time I noticed they tasted salty.
“They do. And wherever they go, their home goes with them.” He put his arm around me. “Did you know that we are like crabs?”
“I don’t have a shell.” I giggled.
He smiled too. “That’s true. But wherever we go, as long as we are together, we always have a home.” He squeezed me tight. “Now, would you like to go down and see if we can find any abandoned seashells?”
I stared at the water again. Dad said it was like a tiger. It wouldn’t leave its fence. “Will the crabs need their shells?”
“Not these, Sweet Pea. These are the jewels the sea gives us for free.”
We’d gone down together, my hand in his. And when I left, my pockets were bulging with shells.
I turned the shell over in my fingers, smiling at the sweet memory, a little puzzle piece that reminded me of who I was and what mattered most to me.
As I thought of Dad, my phone dinged with a text. I reached for it in surprised, wondering if somehow it was from him and he knew I was thinking about him.
It was from Uncle Chris. Relief filled me like I was taking my first deep breath in a long time. He wrote —They got him. Turns out the room was inside a cargo container out on their property. Found the sword too. And get this. A full-price offer came through for you to review in the morning on the Johnson house. From a couple represented by Angela Cranton. Good job, my number one Flamingo Realtor!
I grinned nearly ear-to-ear. This was the best news ever.
I was getting my hot rod after all.
Chapter 24
There was one more small thing that happened after all of this. I guess you could call it an epilogue to my crazy week.
Uncle Chris called me late Friday evening. His voice was slurred and he sounded like he’d tipped more than a few back.
“Stella,” he said, gruffly.
“Yes, Uncle Chris.” I shook my head, humoring him.
“I’m sorry for calling so late.”
I realized then that he was nervous. “You’re fine. What’s up?”
“I…I’ve had something on my mind ever since that one conversation we had.”
“What conversation?”
He took a deep breath and I could practically hear his nostrils flare as he gustily exhaled. “The one at Darcy’s. You know, where you asked if I’d ever find someone?”
Oh, my gosh. This was it. Finally, an O’Neil was about to crack in regards to one of their secrets. I gripped the phone and nodded before realizing he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I remember.”
“I didn’t want to say anything, not with Kari there. It’s…” he paused as if suddenly lost for words.
“You don’t have to say anything. I’m actually sorry I pried,” I said, feeling horrible I’d caused him all this angst.
“No, it’s not that. But it’s something I need to talk to you about—uh—face to face. Are you going to be around tomorrow?”
What on earth was the big secret? “Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay, how about we meet at Darcy’s again?”
“Sure. I can do that.”
“I’ll text you the time.” He sighed again. “The only thing is, Stella, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
And with that, he hung up, leaving me to stare at the phone in wonder.
The End
Thank you for reading A Dead Market. The story continues! Check out book three in Flamingo Realty, Home Strange Home.
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