by Ellen Riggs
“I saw it.” I flashed a smile carefully calibrated to match hers. “I figured you’d make an exception for my certified therapy dog. I wouldn’t dare leave him outside where he could be stolen, even if I had remembered to bring his leash.”
“Dogs don’t get stolen in Clarington,” she said. “This town has a big heart. And a lot of security. He’ll be perfectly safe out front.”
I glanced out the window and shook my head. “There are scooters and wheelchairs zooming around and he could be struck. If you’re that concerned, we should move on. I’d been hoping to find a hostess gift here, but I’m sure there are other places where therapy dogs are welcome.”
Her smile amped up a notch and mine did the same. When in doubt, mirroring was always the way to go. The salesclerk waved manicured fingertips over the display case as if she’d become a game show host. “Do take a look. What do you think she’d like?”
I stared into the case and deliberately ran my index finger across the glass. The nail was chipped and dirty. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t quite erase the evidence of farm chores. Normally I’d be a little embarrassed to flaunt my lifestyle in a store like this, but her attitude irked me. She’d clearly decided based on my dog and appearance that I was a poor prospect for a sale. The silk shammy she pulled out to buff my fingerprints away confirmed she wouldn’t get one, either.
“Lovely work,” I said, tapping the glass a few times to give her something to polish. “Are these originals?”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod. “My aunt is the designer. Every piece is one of a kind so no one will ever show up wearing the same thing.”
“What do you have in my price range?” I asked. “I wouldn’t want to spend more than five hundred, but I still want it to be nice.”
Her smile instantly became more sincere. The farmer was now a contender.
“May I ask your host’s age?” she said. “That will help me narrow it down.”
“Late seventies, I think. She lives at the Briars, so I want to make sure it really stands out from everything else you’ve sold.”
“As I said, each piece is unique,” she said. “Some more special than others, of course.”
I ran my finger along the glass again, noticing for the first time how thick the callouses were. There was a grass stain on my knuckle from weeds I’d pulled the morning we left. The salesclerk noticed it too because her orange shammy twitched like a flare.
Glancing down at Keats for help, I followed his gaze and then tapped an empty spot near the end of a top row. “What was sitting there? I feel like I just missed something amazing.”
She took a quick swish at the glass. “It was a heart locket that’s been here a long time. The right person eventually comes along.”
“Sort of like placing a rescue animal in the right home,” I said.
Her onyx eyes were cold. “Perhaps. I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, that heart is going to look lovely on Shirley Mills, but it wouldn’t make the right hostess gift. Too romantic.”
Her lids dropped over her eyes. One ruby red fingernail traced the glass, leaving no trace of a smudge. “I never discuss client purchases. Discretion is part of the package here at Haute Baubles.”
“Of course. I won’t say a thing to Vaughan or his wife. But you can be sure I’ll be looking out for that locket.”
Her red nail hung over the glass like a fat drop of blood. It trembled just enough to confirm my suspicions. Vaughan had purchased the locket for someone other than Shirley, and the clerk was worried the farmer had loose lips.
“Do you see something your host might like?” she asked, before pressing her lips together in a thin scarlet line.
“I’m not sure. But I do see something my best friend would adore.” I tapped the case over a ring with three green stones. “May I try that on?”
She flipped back her glossy black curls. “Those are real emeralds.”
“I assumed so. Green is my friend’s signature color. This is perfect for her.”
“Madam,” she said, “this is well out of your price range.”
“It’s probably well within her boyfriend’s, though. I’ll try it on for size.”
Sighing, she unlocked the case and pulled out the little box. “I don’t think it will fit you. Your hands look quite… large.”
“They are, actually. Perfect for wrangling sheep or delivering baby goats.”
She winced as she bent to collect a bottle of rubbing alcohol from under the counter. After carefully wiping down the ring, she offered it to me between pinched fingers. I had to tug a little to get it, and then slipped it onto my left ring finger. Unfortunately, she was right. It lodged at my knuckle, and while I hadn’t applied much pressure, it tingled where it sat. I held out my hand and angled it to catch the sun’s rays. It not only looked stunning but felt stunning. This was Jilly’s ring. I was quite sure of it.
Reaching for my phone, I snapped a couple of photos to send to Asher if the time came. Then I eased the ring off and took my sweet time about returning it. All the while, the clerk cupped her hands underneath in case it slipped into the pocket of my overalls and rode home to farm country in shame.
She doused the ring in rubbing alcohol before replacing it in its box and locked it safely away from my grubby hands.
“Any chance you could put that on hold for a few days?” I asked.
“Only with a significant deposit,” she said, with a smirk. “We have so many eager clients who might want it today.”
No one else had even peeked into the window while I was there, so I shrugged. “I guess if the ring is truly meant for my friend, it’ll still be here when I come back.”
She mirrored my shrug, giving me a taste of my own medicine. “What about your host?”
“These baubles might be a little too haute for her. But thanks so much for your time.”
Keats gave a good shake before leaving and sent dirt, dust and feathers into the sunbeams. They swirled for a moment and coalesced into a shape reminiscent of a dog. A longer and lower breed, like a corgi, perhaps. It was like seeing a shape in a cloud—there one minute and gone the next.
I blinked a few times and then shook my head. Keats gave me a strange look with his eerie blue eye and I wondered if he saw the dusty specter, too.
“What’s wrong?” the salesclerk called.
“Did you or your aunt ever own a dog?”
The swish of black curls left no room for doubt. “Never. We have allergies. In fact, I’m still finding dog hair years later from the previous owner’s stupid, fat wiener dog.”
“Interesting,” I said, opening the door.
“Why is that interesting?” she called, flicking her hair back.
I flicked my hair back, too. “I think my dog picked up on it, that’s all.”
If he did, he was happy to leave the phantom dachshund behind and trot briskly up the street with purpose. Clarington hadn’t given up all its secrets to us yet.
Chapter Seventeen
Elsie was sitting outside a café near the monument in the middle of town. I thought about stopping to chat, but Jilly was still waiting. I waved instead but Elsie didn’t notice. In fact, she was on her phone and dabbing at her eyes with napkins. Even her mauve hair seemed limp and dejected.
“I hope she’s okay,” I said. “Probably a call from home, wherever that is. I bet those chats bring up a lot of sad memories.”
Special Constable Doug whipped by at the next corner, no doubt trying to keep track of his many charges. Some residents appeared to have bolted like toddlers with no concern at all for their safety. Or Constable Doug’s for that matter. With his speed and sharp turns, he’d end up smacking into a stop sign, just like my mother.
“I miss Mom,” I told Keats, as we hurried across the square to where Jilly was sitting on a bench surrounded by other residents.
Keats was hard to surprise but I pulled it off now.
“I know, right? I never thought I’d s
ay that, either. But it’s true. I miss her. And everyone else, especially Kellan. But in this moment, I miss Mom.”
He mumbled, as if pressing me to dig a little deeper for reasons.
“I’m not sure why. Maybe it was seeing Elsie back there crying. Maybe it was hearing from Videa earlier about how much it hurts to leave your loved ones behind.” I twisted my hair into a ponytail and sighed. “I mean, I prefer it when Mom stays at her apartment but I wouldn’t want to move too far from her again. Or my brother and sisters for that matter. Jilly, Edna and Gertie may be my besties, but it seems like my family’s growing on me. Like fungus.”
The next mumble just reiterated what I already knew: Keats loved all of them. They were my pack, and as a result, his pack.
“I guess we should travel more often, buddy, if it brings on epiphanies like that.”
His tail swished an affirmative. Keats wasn’t troubled at all with homesickness. He pretty much lived in the moment.
“What’s wrong?” Jilly asked, as we joined them. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Worse,” I said. “I just realized I miss my mother.”
Jilly laughed out loud. It was the first time I’d heard the full-on, rollicking Blackwood laugh since… well, I couldn’t remember when. Probably before her grandmother started calling weeks ago. The Briars hadn’t revived her, but the real Jilly was still in there, waiting to get out.
“Tell me more,” she said.
I fanned my face with my hand. “I’m hoping it’ll pass. The heat’s getting to me.”
“It’s not the heat, dear, but the humidity,” Alice Cheevers said, as the group got up to give us the grand tour. No one seemed to notice that our unofficial tour guide wore a fur coat. Keats hadn’t been here before but it seemed like he already had a destination in mind.
“Good thing we’ll be back in farm country before summer arrives or I’d burst into flames.” Looking around, I asked, “Anyone know where Vaughan is?”
“Anyone know where anyone is?” Bridie asked. “People split like balls on a pool table when the bus doors opened.” She smiled down at Keats, whose tail was still swishing. “Like dogs at an off-leash park.”
“Vaughan always ends up at the casino,” Cherise Heatherington said. “With Ford Fletcher.”
“And Rollie,” Alice said. “Your husband.”
Cherise glared at her. “Rollie doesn’t gamble. He just goes along for the company.”
“I’m surprised there’s a casino in a town as small as Clarington,” I said.
“They’d put a casino in the middle of the Briars if they could,” Cherise said. “Any way to part seniors from their pensions.”
“Some people have gotten in over their heads, I’m afraid,” Alice said. “But no one ever gets evicted over late fees. The money always comes.”
“From family?” I asked.
“From the people who want us to be happy here.” Alice gave a grim smile. “Gambling is an addiction. The kind that got some people sent here in the first place.”
I fell back from the rest of the group and Bridie joined me. She was wearing another roomy peasant dress, accessorized with bangles and beads. Her style was dated but probably comfortable, especially in the heat. Overalls weren’t a wise subtropical choice.
When I was sure no one was listening, I turned to Bridie and said, “Isn’t it weird that Vaughan, holder of the Briars’ purse strings, is a fan of casinos?”
“Ivy, you’ve been on the planet long enough to know how politics work,” she said. “A condo board is just small pond politics. Vaughan greased enough palms to get elected and he’s as dirty as they come.”
“I haven’t been around long enough to expect things like that in a seniors community, Bridie.”
“They probably happen in many seniors communities to one degree or another,” she said. “We’re probably worse than some and better than others. I’m not sure. The Briars is all I’ve known for a long time. It’s my home for better or worse.”
“Do you actually like living there?” I asked.
“I like the weather,” she said. “And my friends, such as they are. I lost a few in the tarot debacle, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“It seems like this psychic stuff just causes trouble. Like gambling.”
“That’s a good analogy,” she said. “It’s a form of gambling. Banking on a future we can’t control.” She stared at Jilly’s back and sighed. “When I came here, I thought I knew everything. Now I’m riddled with doubts. People smell that, you know.”
“Yeah, I guess. Dogs do, too. All emotions, really. That comes in handy sometimes.”
“I’m glad Jilly has friends like you,” Bridie said, crossing her arms as if feeling a sudden chill. “It’s a relief knowing she’s protected.”
I caught her elbow. “Protected from what, exactly? Is someone after her?”
“I don’t think so. Not now, anyway.”
“Bridie.” I gave her arm a little shake and the bangles rang out. “This isn’t something to joke about. Jilly and I have gotten into some challenging situations back home.”
“Oh, I know. Don’t think I haven’t tried to question her about them. As far as I can tell, they have nothing to do with our family. Our history. But of course, it’s impossible to get two words out of that girl.”
Keats was trotting along beside Jilly now, touching her dangling hand with his nose now and then. I don’t think she noticed, but that didn’t stop him from trying to boost her spirits.
“This visit might bring you closer together,” I said. “It’s a start.”
“I hope you’re right. I adore both my granddaughters and the hardest thing about being here is not seeing them. My daughters on the other hand…” She glanced at me and rolled her eyes. “Such drama!”
Keats left Jilly and circled the crowd to bring everyone up sharp in front of a tavern called The Thirsty Fish. Two heavy oak doors opened and Special Constable Doug emerged pulling Vaughan Mills behind him. I was surprised to see Vaughan follow so meekly. But as soon as his feet hit the sidewalk, he gave a couple of sharp twists and wriggled out of Doug’s grasp. Then he hopped on the yellow Vespa and booted off. Ford and Rollie came out just in time to hear his yell of triumph and doubled over, laughing.
Doug didn’t give up the fight. He seized a bicycle from an old woman’s hands, mounted it on the run with the ease of a cowboy, and disappeared around a corner in pursuit of his target.
I looked at Bridie and she laughed, too. “Boys will be boys. At any age.”
I didn’t bother telling her that Vaughan was my number one suspect in Lottie’s death. Not only was he taking bribes and having an affair, he was probably cooking the books so he could gamble away the condo fees. I wondered if Lottie Greenwich had found a way to check the paper trail and expose him.
Doug zipped by again, panting hard as he searched for Vaughan. He had slipped to second position on the suspect list. In fact, he was starting to look more like the hero he wanted to be.
“Don’t fret, Ivy,” Bridie said. “Vaughan just loves giving Doug a run for his money when he gets the chance. You’ll find them sharing a pint at the pub back home tonight, mark my words.”
“So they’re not even serious?” I asked.
“Just serious enough. Doug is doing his job and Vaughan is playing maverick. Sometimes it feels like a sitcom.”
“Only in a sitcom no one dies,” I said.
“And swans just swim around and look pretty,” she added.
“You can’t count on wildlife,” I said.
“You can’t count on anything, really. Not even the sun coming up in the east. You just need to put on your best bangles and get ready to fight if you need to.”
“You remind me of my mom,” I said, laughing.
“Is that a good thing or not?”
“Good. Mostly.” We strolled down a pretty street that wasn’t so different from Clover Grove. There were similar quaint stores offering simila
r wares, only with a tropical theme. “Maybe you can visit someday and meet her.”
“Ivy, I’d love nothing more than to visit Runaway Farm. See if you can talk my granddaughter into busting me out of here.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’d like to attend—”
She paused and I fully expected her to say Jilly’s wedding.
Instead, she blurted, “Edna’s seminar.”
“Seminar? What seminar?”
“Jilly said Edna’s planning to teach people how to prepare for… Well, you know.”
“The apocalypse?”
“Exactly. And I’d like to learn more.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of any seminars.”
“It’s by invitation only,” Bridie said. “Apparently you need to pass a series of survival tests just to get in.” She straightened her shoulders. “It may look like I lead a cushy life, but I try to stay fit and now I’m motivated. I like to think I’d do well in an apocalypse.”
“Not afraid of zombies?”
“Hardly. They’re too stupid to pose much of a threat.” Looking around to make sure Jilly was still out of range, she said, “It’s the witches you need to watch out for. They’ll survive anything. Even another big bang.”
“A bunker probably wouldn’t do you much good if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Edna has lots in her arsenal, from what I hear. You can take anything down if you go about it the right way.”
I couldn’t help laughing and Jilly turned to stare at us. It felt like I’d put a boot over the line in the family squabble, but on the other hand, Jilly had told Bridie about Edna’s supposed seminar before I knew about it.
“Never you mind,” Bridie said, raising her voice a little. “Jilly and I will work things out just fine. I’ve learned a few things about dealing with witches and granddaughters in the past few years.”
“I heard that,” Jilly called.
“I sure hope so, sweetheart,” Bridie called back. “It was lobbed right at you.”
I slipped away to join Alice and Cherise, leaving Keats to tie another canine love knot around Jilly and Bridie. It probably wouldn’t hold them today. Not yet. But I had faith that with persistence, he could squeeze those two back into each other’s hearts for good.