Raising Prosperity

by Cherie Mitchell

  Joey tossed his head before he bounded away after his owner and Prosperity caught sight of a tiny, kangaroo-shaped charm hanging from the animal’s collar. She watched the unlikely pair move across the road to a bench seat set some way back from the street. Mish looped the end of Joey’s leash around a tree branch before sitting down and pulling out his mobile phone. Prosperity eased herself back behind the wheel, satisfied that the location scout wasn’t about to pass out in front of her. The sun had now dropped out of sight and she only had a few minutes of twilight left before it was completely dark. Just enough time to take a quick look at Ophelia’s house before heading home.

  She parked at the curb outside the pink and white confection of a house. This seemed to be the only one matching the description she’d been given, but there was nothing about the property’s appearance to suggest that it might belong to the billionaire Rump family. She walked a short distance up the narrow garden path, taking in the colorful flower planters that hung from the white porch rail and the two white rocking chairs on the porch itself. An American flag fluttered from a high point on the roof, white-painted shutters framed the windows, and a string of candles in jam jars decorated the steps leading up to the porch itself. The house had an expectant air rather than the sense of a vacant property, as if it were waiting for its owner to return. The overall effect was whimsical rather than palatial, and not at all what she would’ve expected of the summertime residence of the wealthy and fashionable Miss Ophelia Rump.

  A car horn honked from the street and a bird shrieked in alarm from the branches of a tree beside the path. Prosperity rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, suddenly feeling chilled. There was nothing to see here and if anything, she felt sad that Ophelia hadn’t lived to enjoy this peaceful little house that had no doubt offered her much-needed respite from a very busy, very public life.

  She drove back the way she’d come, noticing that Mish and Joey had now gone from the bench seat. The streetlights were on and the weeping beam of the Beetle’s headlights didn’t reveal any sign of the man and his pet. She recalled what he’d said about Ophelia’s support of good causes—none of the gossip sites she’d read had mentioned that. She still had the distinct feeling that she’d missed something important, but at least she was now building an image in her mind of a side of the bubblegum heiress that the public had never seen.

  5

  Icky Things

  “Arrggh, that exam was a nightmare.” Meghan Meghasson flopped down on the bench beside Prosperity as she sat eating her lunch. “What did you think of it?”

  “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Prosperity chewed her ham and cheese bagel thoughtfully. “The question about blood types was a surprise but luckily, I’d read over that section when I was studying last night so I knew I had the answer.”

  She glanced at her companion. Meghan, with her flippy blonde hair, ready giggles, and perpetually upbeat attitude, had quickly leveraged herself into the role of teacher’s pet with Professor Leigh. Prosperity found the other girl’s constantly bubbly and bouncy personality a little too tiring at times but it was useful to have someone to talk about the course with. Prosperity wasn’t too sure how many of Meghan’s credits were due to her scholastic ability and how many of her credits were due to the relentless charm offensive she’d directed at their teacher, but she reminded herself that it wasn’t her place to question anyone else’s personal morals. A girl did what a girl had to do.

  Meghan groaned and slumped dramatically. “Blood. It does my head in.”

  Prosperity thought it might be wise if she didn’t mention her ill-fated experiment with the raspberry fruit drink. No one but Blaine needed to know about that. She brushed the bagel crumbs from the front of her dress and stretched her legs out in the sun.

  “I got used to dealing with blood when I worked for Galloping Maids.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of them. Doesn’t T.J. Gallop own that company? I once met him at a fundraising gala. Interesting man.”

  Interesting is one way to describe him.

  “Uh, yeah. I did own half of the company, but I guess T.J. forgot to mention that part. Doesn’t matter anyway—the business quietly folded a few months ago and it’s no longer operating.”

  “You were a partner in the business? Wow. I never figured you for someone who’d own half a company.” Meghan wound a finger through a lock of her hair and gazed at Prosperity with undisguised awe.

  Prosperity wasn’t sure if she should be pleased or offended by Meghan’s comment. “It kind of just happened. It was one of those things that sounded like a good idea at the time.”

  “That’s what I want to do one day, but first I need to find a guy who can help me get where I want to be.” Meghan’s gaze strayed across to Professor Leigh’s classroom on the other side of the quad. “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.”

  Prosperity heard her mother’s voice in her ear, repeating one of her favorite phrases. She hesitated before saying it out loud, but her hopeful ploy to think before she spoke proved useless as the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth of their own accord. “Or, it’s not who you blow, it’s how you blow, as my mama always used to say.”

  Meghan looked at her sharply. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Prosperity hid a yawn behind her hand. She’d stayed up last night studying for longer than she’d intended. She’d dreamed elusive dreams of Ophelia Rump all night long, and the afternoon still stretched tediously out in front of her.

  “Let’s take you, for instance.” Meghan was clearly still on her ‘finding a man to give me a leg up in life’s bandwagon’. “You partnered up with T.J. to start a business and then you somehow landed yourself that cushy role with Martha’s Vineyard P.D. What’s your secret, Prosperity?”

  “What do you mean, what’s my secret? Are you insinuating that I must have done something underhanded to win those roles?” Prosperity fixed the other girl with her best watch-your-mouth glare as she sat her right butt cheek down firmly on her itching-to-slap-her right hand.

  “Of course not, but let’s be realistic here. What were you doing before you became a partner in a company and landed a prime placement with a newly formed Forensic Department? Didn’t you tell me once that you worked for Martha’s Maids when you first came to the island? Seems a bit of a jump from housemaid to company director to valued member of the P.D. I’ve even heard a rumor that you once shook your ass at Tail Spinners. Most people couldn’t achieve what you’ve done without a lot of help from people in the right places.”

  Meghan’s hazel eyes flashed deep green with envy and a dab of spittle flew out from under her retainer.

  Prosperity ignored Meghan’s outburst and calmly continued down her own track. “Do you know what my mother’s name was, Meghan? I’ll tell you. Her name was Serendipity. Do you know what that means?”

  “Why are we talking about your mother? All I want to know is how you’ve managed to come as far as you have in a relatively short amount of time.”

  “Humor me. Serendipity means a lucky break or just plain old dumb luck. I like to think that a fair amount of serendipity has led me to where I am today. My life hasn’t always been a double chocolate sundae. Don’t assume you know everything there is to know about a person based on just a few half-hearted facts and a handful of whispered rumors.”

  Yes, Prosperity had worked at Tail Spinners, but if she was prepared to overlook Meghan’s blatant sucking up to Professor Leigh, then Meghan should be prepared to overlook some of Prosperity’s poorer life choices.

  Meghan rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and scuffled her shoes across the asphalt beneath the bench. “Okay.”

  “Anyway, I don’t know why we’re arguing. We’re classmates. We’re supposed to be looking out for one another.” Prosperity smiled pleasantly, determined to bring the conversation back around to safer subjects.

  “Okay,” Meghan said again. Prosperity heard her humming the Exploding Bubbles jing
le under her breath for several minutes before she spoke again. “Why did you get so used to dealing with blood when you worked for Galloping Maids? That’s what you said before we got sidetracked.”

  “We had a contract with a trauma site cleanup company. Road accidents, freak accidents, violent deaths, that kind of thing. If a living body is smeared in a dozen different directions at once there is generally a lot of cleaning up to do.”

  Meghan screwed her face into a tight grimace and shuddered extravagantly. “Ugh. I couldn’t bear that.”

  Prosperity fought to quell her exasperation. “Meghan, you do know what a career in Forensic Pathology entails, don’t you? Surely you’ve realized by now that once you graduate you’ll be making your living by handling dead bodies? Dead bodies that once contained a whole lot of blood?”

  Meghan’s gaze again drifted across to Professor Leigh’s classroom as she fiddled with the silver bracelets around her wrist. A small hourglass-shaped charm joggled up and down beneath her restless fingers, the trinket creating a tuneful tinkling sound as it touched against her other bracelets.

  “Yeah, but I’m hoping to avoid some of that ickier stuff.”

  “How will you avoid the ickier stuff? By doing something icky at course level? Be careful. The college takes a dim view of student-teacher relationships.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Meghan said primly. She picked up her bag and stood up to go. “I have a lecture to go to. See you later, Prosperity.”

  “Bye.” Prosperity watched Meghan flip her hair back and jiggle her way across to the lecture hall. She sighed and reached for her phone, deciding she was all Meghan-ed out for now. She needed to check in with Ruby to see if anything interesting in regards to the Rump case had come up in her absence.

  “Reuben Jackson.”

  Prosperity grinned to hear Reuben using his ‘I’m in a meeting and this better be important’ voice.

  “Hey, Ruby,” she trilled into the mouthpiece, deciding it might be fun to take a leaf out of the Meghan Meghasson book of male-female interactions. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

  “Prosperity. Give me a minute.”

  She heard him grunt a few words at someone in the background and then he was back on the line. “What is it? Is this urgent?”

  “Nah, I just called to chat.” She could picture him frowning into the phone and she happily picked up that big ole bear stick again. “I figured you were probably sitting there at your desk, bored out of your mind and lobbing balls of scrunched up paper at the waste paper bin. I thought you might like a distraction. How was your yummy Sea Chicken burger?”

  She mentally flicked long strands of her hair over each shoulder and made spacy, airheaded eyes at the phone in her hand.

  To Prosperity’s delight, Reuben exhaled and growled softly under his breath. “So this isn’t urgent?”

  “It might be. How many times have you missed the waste paper bin? My phone call has probably saved you from bucket loads of embarrassment in front of your colleagues, you silly boy.”

  Flick, flick, vacuous grin.

  Again, she heard him exhale before he growled into the speaker, “When are you planning to be back in the Forensics Office?”

  She relented and dropped the airhead persona. “Probably not until Tuesday. I haven’t got any classes on Tuesday and I thought I might spend the whole day in there.”

  “Look, I have to get back to this meeting. I’m getting the cut it off signal from the Ops guys.” She heard him drop the phone down and snarl something at the person just out of earshot before coming back to the call. “Do you want to get together over the weekend? It would be great if we had the chance to go over some of this before Tuesday. Hey, I know what we could do. I’m taking the boat out on Sunday to try to hook some sea bass. Rory told me there’s a big school of them hiding out by the islands, just waiting to be caught. Do you want to come along?”

  Prosperity hesitated, although she could almost hear Reuben drumming imaginary, impatient fingers on the keypad. She wasn’t too fond of boats after her kidnapping ordeal but the best way to conquer a fear was to face it head on.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “Sounds good. I’ll see you at the wharf on Sunday.”

  6

  Love Potion #9

  Blaine cornered Prosperity on Friday afternoon as she walked out of the lecture hall where she’d just sat through a tedious PowerPoint presentation on the scintillating topic of bacterial microbes.

  “Hi, you! Have you been hiding from me?”

  “Ah, no. If you want the honest truth, you haven’t featured in my thoughts at all.” Prosperity kept walking toward the parking lot.

  The microbe lecture had been her last class of the day and she was looking forward to throwing off the cares of the week and kicking back for the weekend.

  “I heard that you and Meghan had a falling out.”

  Prosperity frowned, annoyed to think that Meghan might have scuttled off to tell Blaine about their conversation yesterday. “No. Who told you that?”

  “Kristof. He saw you and Meghan arguing on the bench outside the cafeteria yesterday. Is everything all right?”

  Prosperity made a mental note to grab Kristof by the scruff of his neck next time she saw him and warn him to mind his own business. She gave Blaine the sweetest smile that she could muster, hoping to have a quick conversation before making her escape.

  “Everything is perfect. Purrrrfect. How’s your week going?”

  “Not too bad. Got called out to a small scrub fire two nights ago but we dealt with it quickly enough.” He dragged an appreciative gaze over her body. “You’re looking good.”

  She plucked listlessly at her dress. “This old thing? It’s nothing special.”

  She glanced over to where the Beetle sat parked. “Well, I suppose … ”

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Um … ”

  “Nothing? Great. It’s a warm afternoon, the sun is shining, we’re young, footloose, and fancy free—let me buy you a drink. There’s a new bar opened down near Katama Beach that’s getting rave reviews.”

  Prosperity opened her mouth to give Blaine a polite ‘no,’ but she felt herself wavering. A cool drink and a plate of nachos down at the beach sounded a whole lot more exciting than going back to her lonely one-bed apartment to study.

  “Sure, why not?”

  Blaine seemed startled that she’d agreed but he quickly recovered himself. “Want to follow me? Or we can go in mine. My truck is right here.”

  Prosperity followed the direction of his nod to see a gleaming, candy green Dodge Ram parked in the nearest bay.

  “That’s yours?”

  “Yeah. She’s my baby.” He walked over to give the vehicle’s fender a loving pat. “Madame Ruth.”

  “Madame Ruth?”

  “From the old Love Potion No. 9 song. Madame Ruth was the gypsy with the gold-capped tooth who lived down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine.”

  “You compare your truck to an old gypsy?”

  “Madame Ruth always had the irresistible, magical means to pull in all the love-starved ladies.” He gave her a lascivious wink. “Wanna ride?”

  “No, I’ll take the Beetle,” Prosperity said hurriedly. “It will save you driving me back to campus later to get it.”

  “Okay, suit yourself.”

  He climbed in behind the wheel, his huge thighs squeaking against the leather seat. Prosperity left him to it and went across to collect her Beetle.

  The Bad Moon Rising bar, an open-fronted property with lots of bleached wood, strategically draped fishing nets, and decorative buoys and anchors, was busy on this Friday afternoon. Blaine and Prosperity were lucky enough to grab a table near the front just as the previous occupants got up to leave. Prosperity swung herself onto the high stool, pleased to be close to the sea breeze and away from the melee around the bar.

  Blaine smoldered at her from across the table as he lowered his voice seductively. “Thi
rsty?”

  She coolly met and held his gaze. “I’ll just have a soda and lime.”

  The harassed-looking waitress sat a complimentary bowl of corn chips and salsa on the table and took their drinks order before rushing away again. Blaine cracked his knuckles and reached for a corn chip.

  “I can’t hardly believe that you finally said, ‘yes,’ to a date.”

  “I said ‘yes,’ to a drink, Blaine. Nothing more. I hate to piss on your campfire but you and Madame Ruth aren’t about to get lucky this evening.”

  “And that’s one of the things I like most about you, Prosperity Spartanburg. Finding a lady who knows her own mind is like finding a gemstone in a pile of coal.”

  His jovial expression dropped for a few seconds and Prosperity saw a flicker of sorrow in his eyes before he hauled his smile back up again.

  “I always was partial to gemstones.”

  “We used to collect gemstones from Moonstone Beach when I was a child. They’ve mostly been picked over now and they’re not so easy to find. Tell me about you, Blaine. Have you always lived here?”

  Prosperity was curious as to what had caused Blaine that pang of sadness and she wondered if she could draw it out of him. She’d had a lot of practice in encouraging men to talk about themselves while serving drinks at Tail Spinners. Hell, every woman knew that a man deep in conversation about himself was less likely to let his hands wander to places where they didn’t belong.

  “Yep, I’m no washashore. I’ve always lived here on the island. I was born at Homes Hole … ” He saw her confused expression and clarified his comment. “Vineyard Haven. My grandpa always called it Homes Hole, said that if it was a good enough name for the sailors and whale boat captains of old then it was good enough for him.”

  The waitress dropped their drinks on the table without pausing in her stride and carried on running. Blaine raised his beer glass.

  “To the cutest little Forensic Pathologist I ever did see.”