It Happened on Love Street

by Lia Riley

  “Darn, you found me out.” Elizabeth shook a mock fist. “But seriously, go on. I’ll take good care of your puppy until you get back.”

  “Don’t you mean if I come back?”

  “Muah-ha-ha.” Elizabeth mimicked a cartoon villain’s evil laugh.

  Pepper stood and approached the curtain. She’d been kidding. Sort of.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Pepper entered a nondescript storage room lined with industrial steel shelves full of disposable coffee cup lids, coffee bags, and bottles of hazelnut and vanilla flavoring. The aroma of coffee beans infused the air, rich and aromatic.

  The beads swished and Delfi entered, holding a silver tray. “Take a seat,” she said, nodding to the room’s far corner. Beneath a small window was a circular table with two red plastic chairs. “Have you ever done tasseography?”

  “Tasseo—sorry?” Pepper sat and crossed her legs. “Sorry, I have no idea what that is.”

  “Tea-leaf reading.”

  “Um, no. Never.” This was Elizabeth’s big plan? Fortune telling?

  Delfi arranged a white pot and matching ceramic cup and saucer. “The first thing you need to do is steep the tea and quiet your mind.”

  Pepper picked up the pot and poured as Delfi closed her eyes. Looked like they were going to get right to it. The barista’s posture was perfect, and she drew deep, measured breaths. They were about the same age. Her nose was pierced, and glitter sparkled on her cheekbones.

  Delfi opened up one eye. “You’re not concentrating. Here.” She slid the cup over. “Sip and find your center.” Pepper reached, and Delfi captured her wrist. “Stop. You’re right-handed?”

  “Y-es.”

  “Then you’ll need to lift the cup with your left hand. And I can see that you’re distracted. This only works if you focus.”

  “Right. Oops.” Pepper smashed her lids together, palming the warm cup and taking a slow careful sip. It was perfect. Hot. But not too hot.

  “Drink the liquid carefully, avoid consuming too many tea leaves.”

  Pepper did as she was told. “What’s next?” she asked when the cup was half-empty.

  “Relax. Breathe.” Delfi flicked a lighter and procured a stick of incense from a hidden pocket in her voluminous emerald dress. She lit one end and set it onto the table edge. “Is there one question that is coming to the forethought of your mind? Take your time. Pretend to be a sieve and let feelings pass through you.”

  “I don’t get this. Is the tea supposed to be magical because—”

  “It’s not about the tea. Or even the water. You left traces of your psychic energy in the cup. That’s what we shall now read.”

  Psychic energy? Oh come on. This was nonsense, but she was stuck. To bolt for the exit would be incomprehensibly rude. The only choice was to breathe in, breathe out. Grin and bear it. She closed her eyes. The first image was Elizabeth’s pretty face framed by her sleek, perfectly styled dark hair. Then Judge Hogg crumpling that Coke-splattered legal brief. The way Tuesday refused to meet her gaze when questioned about New York. Kitty’s sweet eyes. Miss Ida May in her pink Cadillac. And then Rhett, over her, under her, consuming her. Dad’s postcard. Subways. Traffic. Everland’s Main Street. The dog park. More Rhett. Kissing Rhett. Laughing Rhett. Those adorable eye crinkles. The way his collared shirts clung to his shoulders. The innate affection he gives to his dogs, his sister, her.

  What should I do? Where do I fit in? Where do I belong?

  Belong.

  Rhett’s mouth on hers, his tongue tasting of home.

  Dad needing her.

  Tuesday needing her.

  Rhett curled beside her in bed, watching a movie, feeding her popcorn bite by bite.

  Where do I belong?

  “Good,” Delfi murmured. “Now sip. Concentrate on the flavor of the tea. Leave a small amount at the bottom of the cup.”

  Pepper complied.

  “I want you to swirl the liquid around three times. Yes. Like that. And then dump the remaining liquid into the saucer. Perfect. Take a few more deep breaths and turn the cup back over.”

  Pepper did everything asked. “Now what?”

  “We read the tea.” Delfi stared. “Lines. Interesting.”

  Pepper’s lungs flooded with the incense. It left her light-headed. “What’s that mean?”

  “A journey. The lines are crooked, which means complications.”

  “Is this a future trip or one I’ve taken?”

  “Both.” Delfi cocked her head. “There’s a woman in the center of the cup. She reaches forward and behind, tearing herself in two.”

  Pepper squinted her eyes and froze. Mother of God. There was a shape of a woman there, fracturing into two equal halves.

  “See these stars?” Delfi waved a hand over a few specks. “They signify that you’re scattered. Homeless. Rootless.”

  “What’s that? In the distance? There on the…on the…” What was that? “The hill-looking thingy,” she ventured.

  “What does it look like to you?”

  “A person,” Pepper replied, awkwardly.

  “What are they doing?” Delfi goaded.

  “I don’t know. Who is that supposed to be?”

  Silence fell like an invisible axe. “Only you can say,” Delfi answered at last in her calm monotone.

  “That’s not fair. You’re the expert in tea-leaf reading.”

  Delfi idly toyed with the amethyst pendant hanging from a thick silver chain around her neck, unfazed by Pepper’s perturbed tone. “Look deep inside yourself. You have the questions you seek. You know who this person is.”

  But that was the whole problem. She didn’t. She was scattered, tearing herself in two. Who was that up on the hill? Her dad? Her sister? Rhett? So many people wanted something from her, all of them pulling in different directions until she didn’t know which way to go to please all of them.

  “How about a hint?”

  That didn’t garner so much as a smile. “Only you know your own truth.”

  “Gotcha. Thanks for your time,” Pepper did her best to sound earnest. How pathetic that she’d let herself be taken in by mumbo-jumbo. What was going to be next? A palm reader? Tarot cards? Her life wasn’t hidden in a teacup. There was no secret detour. Only the path she’d set for herself after Mom left. The road felt long and lonely, but she was committed to the course of action.

  When she emerged through the backroom beads, Elizabeth was cooing over Kitty, holding the puppy like a baby. Kitty’s paws were tucked in, and she gazed at the pressed tin ceiling with an expression of blissful contentment.

  “Get clarity?” Elizabeth asked with a quizzical gaze.

  Pepper gathered Kitty into her arms and pressed her cheek to her silky soft fur. “Confirmation that I’m more muddled than a mojito.”

  “Ah.” Elizabeth nodded. “So it’s not going to be that easy for you.”

  “Truth can be dimmed, but it never gets extinguished.” Delfi strode to the counter right as the bell chimed and a group of customers flocked in.

  “I know she’s a trip,” Elizabeth said, eyes kind. “But Delfi is wise. She’s been touched by something big and mysterious.”

  “You mean something crazy,” Pepper muttered under her breath.

  “Before you go poking fun, stop and consider this. Look around,” Elizabeth waved out the window. “Everland’s not like anywhere else. There’s something to the air here. I like to think it’s magic.”

  Pepper sighed. “It would be great to believe you. I love the idea of magic, fate, and destiny.” She buried her face into the top of Kitty’s head, right between the ears. “Ugh. I don’t know. Maybe this is where you’re revealed to be the evil ex-girlfriend after all. You’ve charmed yourself into my circle of trust, and are whittling away what little remains of my sanity.”

  “Oh, girl.” Elizabeth laughed long and loud. “Give Delfi’s reading a few days to sink in. What I’m saying is think about it while trying not to think on it.”
/>   “Yeah, that makes total sense.”

  Elizabeth wagged a finger. “You can poke fun all you want, but please trust me on this one thing. You can know a lot and still not understand the secrets to your own heart.”

  When Pepper left Sweet Brew, she paused on the sidewalk and kicked at a pebble. Kitty glanced up, looking for a lead on their direction.

  Turn left, turn right, or go straight ahead? Too many directions tugged at her heart. Dad’s absence. Tuesday’s secrets. Maine. Rhett. New York. Chicago. Everland.

  People needed her. But the image in the cup of the woman tearing herself apart rose up in her mind’s eye.

  Maybe the time had come for her to ask, what is it that I need?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rhett strode into his backyard with one simple desire: to perform a mindless, uncomplicated task. Sanding planks for his boat project fit the bill to a “T.” The noise was rhythmic. A shh, shh, shh sound that he could lose himself in. Almost. The conversation with Al Hogg niggled in the back of his mind. The request was strange. In order for Al to clear the way for the shelter’s funding, Rhett needed to have the Quilt Guild to nominate him as Mr. Scallywag for the live auction.

  Rhett had almost laughed himself off the road. No woman in her right mind would spend a penny to go on a date with that man. In fact, he’d be able to hold a fundraiser all on his own if he made a public promise never to ask out another woman.

  Lou Ellen would never agree to it.

  He sanded harder. Sweat sheened his shoulders. Anyway, no good having a construction loan if Dad wasn’t going to cough up the land rights.

  He worked his arms hard, his back muscles numb with exertion as sweat flew off his brow. What sucked wasn’t just the personal blow—yeah, that stung, but by this point he was almost numb to his father’s behavior. The real kicker was that animals would suffer needlessly, and for what? A grudge that at this point was being held purely out of default. No way could Dad still feel butt hurt about Rhett’s career decision. Not anymore. At this point he maintained this stupid-ass stand-off out of a sheer lack of imagination.

  “Rhett!” Lou Ellen’s voice startled him.

  He dragged a forearm over his brow. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “That’s because I didn’t.” She sashayed close, plopping her handbag on the sawhorse. “But I’ve been calling your name for a better part of a three minutes. And look at you. What bee crawled up your bonnet?”

  “You can’t come waltzing in here like the Queen of Sheba, Lou.” He picked up his water bottle and drained it in four long swallows. “I thought that we’d agreed on boundaries?”

  “That only people who need boundaries are those with something to hide.” She glanced around the backyard like there was a trapdoor leading to a secret sex club.

  “We’re going to have to agree to disagree there.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair as if the gesture could smooth out his troubled brain. “Warm day.”

  “Hotter than two rats humping in a wool sock. Now find some manners and offer me a glass of sweet tea and a seat in the shade.”

  “Coming right up.” No point arguing sense with Lou Ellen when the mercury rose over ninety.

  He went inside, splashed cold water on his face, cleaned his hands, changed his shirt, and fixed her a glass of tea, how she liked it, six ice cubes, lemon zest, and a healthy glug of Southern Comfort. Walking it back outside, he set it down on his bistro table and took the opposite seat. The veranda provided respite from the sun’s rays, and the air held a faint lilac-ish tang from the giant butterfly bush towering over his toolshed.

  “All right then.” He slapped his thighs. “Tell me what you need.”

  “Ah. That right there is my favorite thing a man can ask.” She removed a hand mirror from her purse and checked her lipstick.

  “Has anyone made your husband a saint yet?” Rhett huffed a sigh. “Snapper should convert to Catholicism. He’d be in like a shot.”

  “Hardy-har-har.” She took a sip of the tea, made a face of approval, and took two more. “I came by to drop off a suit. It’s hanging in your closet now, fresh pressed at the cleaners. I took the liberty of selecting one of Snapper’s. He has excellent taste, seeing as I’ve picked them all out myself.”

  He regarded her steadily. “Who died?”

  “The auction, silly. Mr. Scallywag.”

  Shit. Without intending to, he’d ended up in the middle of yet another “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” situation. The last thing Rhett wanted to do was inflict Al Hogg on the town. Except he didn’t want to fall on his own sword in the process.

  The best thing to do would be to level about the whole situation with Lou Ellen. She’d be apoplectic, but at least half her rage would be turned to Hogg.

  “Don’t give me that look.” She glared, crossing her legs and tapping one pointy heel against the table leg. “I didn’t want to have to resort to this.”

  “Easy now.” His nuts crawled inside. Those suckers could do serious damage. “I’m not currently looking to have kids, but don’t want to take that off the table.”

  “Please.” She flicked a wrist. “I am a lady. If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll blackmail your ass, pardon my French.”

  He jerked back, recalibrating. Did he have an EASY MARK stamp today? “What the hell are you talking about? You’ve got nothing on me. I’m an open book.” The way to beat Lou Ellen was to admit no weakness. She sniffed out ammunition like an airport bloodhound.

  “It’s not what I have on you. It’s what your sweet little neighbor doesn’t.” She jerked a thumb toward the house. “As far as I know, those panties on the kitchen floor aren’t yours, J. Edgar. They have a name printed on them. The name of the woman who lives next door.”

  He froze. Shit. Pepper did have a pair of panties with her name on them, combined with a cartoon chile pepper.

  Lou Ellen smiled in triumph. “Whatever dalliance you two have going is all well and good, but that doesn’t change the fact you’re going to be Mr. Scallywag for the live auction. I’ve promised everyone at the Quilt Guild. It’s the coup of the event! Bid on Everland’s most eligible—and elusive—bachelor for a night of dinner and a movie.” She dropped her hands. “And if your pretty Pepper has an issue with that, tell her to be the highest bidder, although she’ll have some competition against Kennedy Day. This is a done deal, Rhett. The live auction bid sheets have been set up, including one that says “A Night with the Love Doctor.”

  “The what with the what?” he sputtered.

  “Don’t let me down on this.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said grimly. Not that he had a single intention of following through. Worse come to worse. He’d twist Beau’s arm. There was Everland’s real eligible bachelor. Rich. Handsome. Corner office at City Hall.

  Lou Ellen cared a great deal about other people’s opinions. The family feud between him and Doc caused her more pain than she’d ever admit, but beneath that tough steel magnolia was a heart that could be soft as a peach.

  He didn’t want to let her down, but he didn’t want to do it, either.

  “Thank you.” She blew an air kiss. “I owe you one.”

  “How about never threatening to blackmail me again?”

  “Deal.” No one could lie as smoothly as Lou Ellen. She meant well, but Christ, the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

  He walked back inside as she bustled out to the driveway and froze. The kitchen floor was empty. He glanced around. Not a stitch of underwear in sight. Could she have taken it? No, never in a million years. A white flash caught his eye out the window. It was Pepper’s washing line. Her clothes were hung up, flapping in the breeze, soaking up the summer sun. Right in the center of the line was a white pair of panties that said PEPPER in a fancy calligraphy font.

  A bemused chuckle shook his shoulders.

  He’d been played so hard. His sister had got him to admit his secret relationship status.

  Oh,
she was good. Cover CIA counterterrorism good.

  Steinbeck padded up and nudged Rhett’s thigh with his nose. He scratched his buddy behind the ear, right in his favorite spot. “What am I going to do, man?” He wasn’t going to make a deal with Al Hogg. Never in a million years. But he wasn’t going to let Lou Ellen railroad him, either.

  For being an island, he certainly had a lot of people walking on his beach. Time to pack everyone up and send them on their merry way.

  He heaved a sigh. He didn’t know how to fix any of that. Or what to do about Pepper wanting to leave. But he did know one thing. The shelter might take longer. More blood, sweat, and tears. But there wasn’t going to be a shortcut to success, nor would he sacrifice an ounce of integrity or cut a single corner to get done the project that was going to bear Mama’s name.

  He stepped back inside and made a call.

  “Judge Hogg’s office,” the administrative assistant said in a reedy voice.

  “Hi there, Lois. This is Rhett Valentine, and I want you to pass along a message to the big guy. Tell Al that I’ve thought over his offer and am going to pass.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The house had been quiet all night. Aloysius sat at the kitchen table watching condensation trickle down the side of the pitcher of sweet tea. The bell hadn’t rung once since he’d gotten home. There’d been the low, murmured sound of voices punctuated by periods of gospel music. The back door opened and shut. The heavy clomps of boots on the side stairs.

  Mama had been busy with her business.

  At last, the house was empty and the silver bell tinkled.

  He glanced to the antique hall clock. Ten after ten. She’d kept him stewing long enough.

  He trudged up the carpeted front stairs one by one, and when he reached her bedroom he was startled, as always, by how someone so ruthless appeared in the guise of fragility.

  Mama rested atop a pale silk pillow, a gold-leafed Bible on her nightstand. Inside the back cover she kept the IOUs—when townfolk approached her with a problem, she found solutions, for a price.