Postcards from Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  I nodded. “Thank you. Yes, she passed away in November and I had to tend to various tasks before I could move down here. Do you live on the island?”

  “I do. I’ve been here a few years now and I can’t see myself ever living anywhere else. I’m an author, and I receive much of my inspiration being surrounded by Mother Nature.”

  I smiled. “You look like an author, and you certainly have a great name for book jackets. What type of books do you write?”

  Saxton threw his head back laughing. “What exactly does an author look like?”

  “Oh, well,” I mumbled, and felt myself getting flustered. “What I meant was . . . you know . . . a bit bohemian with, ah . . .” I gave him a full body scan. “Curly hair, the pullover sweater, jeans . . .”

  “Well, then you should see me on a chilly day when I’m sporting my tweed cap and scarf.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not because I was already getting the impression that this man possessed a good amount of wit and humor.

  Another smile crossed his face. “I write mysteries,” he told me. “Most of my novels were released in the UK, but I’m now with a publisher in New York and my second book with them will be out this fall.”

  “I’m an avid reader, so I’ll have to be sure to pick one up.”

  “I highly recommend the one released last year, A Deadly Secret, and I hope you’ll enjoy it. Lucas carries it at his bookshop across the street.”

  What the heck was it all of a sudden about family skeletons and secrets? “Well, I’ll be sure to pick up a copy, and maybe you’ll autograph it for me.”

  “It would be my pleasure, but you haven’t yet told me your name.”

  I felt a smile cross my face and extended my right hand again. “Berkley,” I told him. “Berkley Whitmore, and it’s nice to meet you.”

  A chuckle escaped him as once again his hand encircled mine. “Berkley? And you’re questioning the oddity of my name?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “Right. Yeah, it is a bit unusual. My parents were students at Berkeley during the sixties when my mother got pregnant with me.”

  “Ah, I see, and yes, that makes perfect sense.”

  It did? Although I didn’t dislike my name, I always thought it was a bit silly of my mother to name me after her alma mater.

  “Well, I’m definitely due for my chocolate, so it’s time for me to make my decisions,” he said, walking over to the glass case. “They look wonderful, and you make them yourself?”

  I walked around the counter and pointed to the dark chocolate pieces shaped like clams. “I make those,” I told him. “Cedar Key is the number one place in the country for farm-grown clams. So I designed a mold to depict these. But those on that side,” I said, gesturing to my left, “are purchased wholesale from the wonderful chocolate shop in Daytona Beach, Angell and Phelps. I order my truffles and all the other chocolates in the case from them. I agree with their policy on selling only fresh chocolate, and they have no preservatives, so if I happen to be out of what you might like, I can order them and have them for you in just a couple of days.”

  “I’ve been to that chocolate shop,” Saxton said. “I’ve done book signings on the east coast of Florida and found my way to their shop. You’re right, they’re quite wonderful chocolates.”

  “So what can I get for you?” I asked, putting on a plastic glove.

  “I’ll take four of your truffles, please. That’ll do me for today and tomorrow . . . and then I’ll just have to come back on Sunday to restock.”

  I placed the chocolate into one of my extra small boxes, applied the seal, and rang up the sale. “Here you go,” I said, passing them across the counter.

  “Thank you, and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  I watched him leave the shop, and three things struck me: He was one of the few people meeting me for the first time who had avoided any comment on the purple streak in my hair. I had very much enjoyed conversing with him. I wasn’t displeased at all that Saxton Tate III would be returning to my shop on Sunday.

  Before the afternoon was over I had made quite a few sales. All of the customers had been tourists visiting the island for the weekend, most of them purchasing chocolate, but a few had bought some of my smaller gems.

  Just before five I stepped outside to see how busy Second Street was and saw Eudora Foster walking at a brisk pace toward my shop.

  “Hello,” she hollered, and waved. When she got closer she said, “Have you already closed? I was hoping to get some chocolate.”

  “You’re in luck. The shop is still open.”

  Chloe had introduced me to Eudora, known to the locals as Miss Dora, the week before. She had taken over the yarn shop down the street, Yarning Together, and Chloe was her business partner.

  “Come on in,” I told her.

  Before walking to the glass case, Dora paused at the table that held my gems.

  “Oh, goodness. Aren’t these gorgeous. I’ll have to tell my daughter, Marin, that you also sell crystals. She just loves those. Where do you get them?” she asked, picking one up and allowing it to lie in the palm of her hand.

  “From Sedona in Arizona. I visited there a few years ago and I was quite impressed with the quality of their gems. So I order them wholesale from a shop there.”

  “They’re just lovely.” She replaced the crystal on the table as her attention was drawn to the glass case of chocolate.

  “Oh, what a nice selection.” Dora leaned forward to get a better look. “I see you have my favorite—raspberry truffles. Those are from Angell and Phelps, right?”

  I nodded as I slipped the glove onto my right hand.

  “Well, I’ll have one pound of those, please. Were you busy today?”

  I began placing each chocolate into the box. “Yes, fairly steady with tourists, so I think I had a good first day.”

  “You’ll find that the weekends will be your busiest times. That’s how it is at the yarn shop too. Oh, I wanted to ask you . . . Chloe said that you own your own alpacas?”

  “I do. Bosco and Belle stay with my friend at her alpaca farm in Maine, Rumination Farm. I’d always knitted, but Jill got me into spinning a few years ago and that led to me purchasing a couple of my own alpacas. I had no place to keep them in Salem, so I’m fortunate that she boards them for me. Plus she does the shearing along with the process of turning the raw fleece into fiber and then she hand dyes it, so that really saves me time. By the time she ships it to me, I’m able to just sit down and spin it.”

  “I see. And Chloe said that you have a small Internet business?”

  “Yeah, I set up a website and I take orders and ship the yarn. A lot of my customers have particular requests for colors, and since Jill does the hand dyeing, I can accommodate them.”

  “Well, Chloe and I were talking, and we wondered if you might be interested in selling some of your yarn to us for the shop. We get quite a few tourists looking for hand-spun alpaca yarn in the hand-dyed colors.”

  I was certainly not one to turn away business. “Oh, that’s a great idea. Sure, I’d be very interested in doing that.” I rang up the sale and passed her the box.

  “Okay, then,” Dora said. “I’ll get with Chloe and we’ll have you come over to the yarn shop so that we can discuss details. Thank you for the chocolate.”

  “I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

  She turned at the door to give me a wide smile. “Oh, I have no doubt that I will.”

  After she left I walked to the table and rearranged the position of the crystal that Dora had picked up.

  Then I emptied the cash register, placing the money into the zippered bag that I’d drop at the bank in the morning, shut off the lights, locked the door, and headed back upstairs to my apartment.

  Not a bad first day, I thought, as I stepped into my living room and was immediately overcome with a sense of my mother’s presence. I heard Sigmund meow as my eyes flew to the mahogany credenza where I’d placed the marble urn con
taining the ashes of Jeanette Whitmore. Walking over, I reached out a finger to touch the smooth stone and traced an invisible circle along the side.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I said out loud. “You’re staying put for a while. I’m not about to release you back into the universe until I get some answers.”

  3

  I can’t say that I was overwhelmed with business the following day, but it was a steady flow of customers. Mostly tourists, but some of the locals also dropped by to meet me and sample my chocolate.

  Two of those locals were Sydney Webster and her daughter, Monica Brooks, along with Monica’s triplets and stepdaughter, Clarissa. I’d briefly met both women at the coffee café the previous year.

  “It’s nice to see you’re open,” Sydney said, pushing the oversized stroller into the shop. “Welcome to Cedar Key. You remember my daughter, Monica? And this is my granddaughter, Clarissa, and Saren, Sidney, and Candace, my triplet grandchildren.”

  I smiled as a wave of melancholy came over me. Seeing the women together brought back childhood memories of walking Essex Street with my own mother, stopping in various shops. Although I had good memories of time spent with my mother when I was a child, we had been far from close. Her overprotectiveness accounted for part of the reason, with me always wanting to rebel. But unlike my grandmother, who showered me with affection, I always felt my mother withheld a part of herself from me. And that was only enforced the summer that she chose to go away and leave me behind.

  “Yes,” I said. “I remember Grace introduced us last year. Gosh, these babies are growing way too fast.” I bent down to stroke their little hands.

  “They certainly are.” Monica laughed. “They had their first birthday last month.”

  I stood up and noticed Clarissa beaming proudly at her siblings. “I bet you’re a great big sister. How old are you now?”

  “I’m eleven, and yeah, Monica says I’m a big help to her.”

  Monica ruffled the top of Clarissa’s head and smiled. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Now let’s get some chocolate. I think we earned it.”

  They made their choices as I filled the box.

  “Oh, what are those?” Clarissa asked, pointing to the case.

  “Those are my Cedar Key clams—rich, dark chocolate. Here,” I said, reaching for one. “Try a sample.”

  Before I reached in for two more to give Sydney and Monica, Clarissa exclaimed, “Oh, I want these. They’re really good.”

  Both women nodded after taking a bite. “Delicious,” Sydney said. “Add some of those to the box also.”

  I rang up the sale and passed the box to Sydney, who slid her charge card across the counter.

  “This is a great shop,” Monica said. “I think you’ll be very successful here. And why did you choose Cedar Key? I can’t remember what Grace told me.”

  “Oh, I had seen an article about it someplace. It seemed like the perfect small town I was looking for. I love Salem, but it’s become pretty crowded there, and besides, who can resist this great Florida weather in March?”

  Sydney laughed. “Right. We’ll check back with you on that come July and August.”

  In the afternoon Suellen stopped by to bring me a latte.

  “This is so nice of you,” I told her, taking a sip of the delicious coffee.

  “Well, Grace is covering the coffee café, and we thought you might enjoy an afternoon pick-me-up. Have you been busy?”

  “Yeah, pretty steady. How about you?”

  Suellen nodded. “The coffee café has been pretty much nonstop all day, and I think Lucas is selling a fair amount of books too, so looks like it’ll be a good weekend for the merchants. Well, I have to get back. Enjoy the coffee.”

  “Thanks,” I hollered as she swept out the door.

  I smiled and watched her run across the street. I liked Suellen. She had an energy about her that gave off positive vibes.

  I was taking an inventory of how much chocolate I’d need to make on my days off to replenish for the coming week when I looked up and saw an older woman enter the shop, a huge smile on her face.

  “Hi,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Maude Stone, Chloe and Grace’s aunt.”

  “Oh, hello,” I told her, returning her smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Chloe. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “I was delighted to hear we’d have a chocolate shop opening in town.” She glanced at the glass counter and nodded. “And everything looks so good. Do you happen to have . . . well, I always called them Turtles.”

  I smiled and pointed to the case. “Right there. I order those from Angell and Phelps in Daytona and their candy maker calls them Honeybees. We have them in milk or dark chocolate, and you have a choice of cashews, Georgia pecans, or macadamia nuts.”

  “Oh, my,” Maude said, and I swear she was an instant away from drooling when she spied them.

  I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, they’re really good.”

  “Well, then, I’ll take one pound with the dark chocolate and cashews, please.”

  I began arranging them in the box. “You do knitting retreats, don’t you?”

  “Yes, once a month. Women come from across the country and it’s quite a fun time.”

  “Chloe had mentioned it to me. All of you gather at the carriage house in your garden and it’s an entire weekend of knitting. That does sound like fun.”

  “Yes, and then we always have our Blue Moon ceremony on the final evening, which I sometimes think is the highlight of the weekend.”

  “Oh, she didn’t mention that. What’s that about?”

  A smile crossed Maude’s face, and I could tell she was in her element discussing something that meant a lot to her.

  “We gather on the beach over at the City Park. No two are ever the same, but we play music, dance around, read quotes that are meaningful to us—basically, we just bond as women and friends.”

  “It sounds wonderful. How did you ever come up with such a clever idea?”

  Maude laughed. “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t take credit for that. The original one was held back in the forties. Have you met Eudora Foster yet?”

  “Yes, she was in here yesterday.”

  “Well, it was Dora and her sister, Sybile, who came up with the idea many years ago, and then shortly before Sybile passed away, her daughter and granddaughter, Sydney and Monica, decided to resurrect the old tradition. So I’m afraid I copied their idea.”

  “And I’m sure Sydney and Monica didn’t mind in the least.”

  “I think you’re right. Actually, Dora told me she thought it was a wonderful way to keep her sister’s memory alive. You’ll have to come sometime, Berkley. Chloe and Grace still attend now and then.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said, passing the box of chocolate across the counter. “I’m sure I’d really enjoy that. And I hope you’ll enjoy these chocolates.”

  Maude laughed again. “Oh, there’s no doubt that I will.”

  I rang up the sale and took her cash. “So you’re not from the island originally?”

  “No, I came here last year from Brunswick, Georgia. I bought the old Coachman House on F Street and then decided to turn the carriage house, which is in my garden, into a venue for my knitting retreats.”

  “But Dora is from Cedar Key?”

  “Oh, my, yes. Born and raised here. Never even left when she married. Some people call her the town historian.”

  So, I thought, maybe it’s Dora Foster that I need to talk to about the past.

  “Well, welcome to the island. I hope your business will be very successful,” Maude said before leaving.

  I got some last-minute customers, and after standing on my feet for most of the day, I decided to order a pizza for supper rather than do any cooking.

  I had just finished cleaning up the kitchen after eating when there was a knock at the door.

  “Hey,” I said when I saw Chloe standing in the hallway, holding a bottle of wine and two wineglasses. “I was beg
inning to think you really didn’t live in that apartment down the hall. Come on in.”

  Chloe laughed. “I know. I’ve been so darn busy at the yarn shop recently I haven’t even had a chance to welcome you properly. So I thought maybe you’d like to join me on my porch and we can indulge in this great chardonnay and have a gabfest.”

  “That sounds great,” I said, and followed her down the hall and through her apartment, which overlooked Second Street from a good-size second-floor porch. “You sure have a bird’s-eye view of the town from here, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, filling the wineglasses. “Except I haven’t had much time to just sit out here and see what’s going on.”

  “It’s good that the yarn shop has been busy. I’ve had a pretty good first weekend also.”

  “And we have to enjoy it now, because come September it’ll be pretty slow.”

  I took a sip of wine. “Hmm, good. I met your Aunt Maude today. She was telling me about the Blue Moon ceremonies that she does with her knitting retreats. Did you know Dora’s sister, Sybile? I guess they did the first one.”

  “Yeah, they did, but no, I never met Sybile. She passed away before I came here last year. From what I hear, she was quite a character.”

  “So Dora must know a lot about the island, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah. She was born and raised here.” Chloe cut a wedge of cheese from the platter on the table. “Why? Is there something in particular you want to know about?”

  “Nah, it just must be nice to know your roots.”

  I saw the look of surprise that crossed Chloe’s face. “But you grew up in Salem, right?”

  “Yeah, but we were originally from Maine. My grandmother and mother moved to Salem when I was five.”

  “And there’s no other family left in Maine?”

  “No. My only other relative is my mom’s sister, but they were never really close. I saw her at my grandmother’s funeral, and that was only the second time I’d met her. She lives outside of Atlanta now. Her husband was in the military and they had no children. They traveled around a lot.”

  “Families can be complex, can’t they? My parents traveled a lot before they died. They owned an antique shop in Brunswick, and that took them to Europe frequently.”