Ash had also followed up on the other information I’d passed along. What he’d seen that day on his phone was that Violet had a criminal history. It was a college shoplifting prank, done on a dare during sorority pledge week, but she attributed all the things that had gone wrong with her life to that single episode.
“She plays the victim card like a champ,” Ash had said, shaking his head. “Not at all like Mason Hiller.”
Turns out that Mason had intentionally shorted customers on their change on July 3 because he’d just got the news that he needed to purchase new gas tanks to stay in compliance with some new state regulations. He’d come to his senses the next day, had already paid the people back, and was trying to find a second job to afford the hideously expensive tanks.
“So it’s all over?” Aunt Frances asked.
“Mostly,” I said. “Hal Inwood and Ash are trying to track down the people who were buying from Luke and Courtney.” I had no idea what crime they might be charged with, but Ash had seemed determined to follow the trail wherever it might lead.
Rafe held up the coffee carafe. I smiled at him gratefully, and stood to pick up my newly filled mug. “Aunt Frances,” I asked, “would you mind coming out on the porch with me a minute? I want you to see something.”
My aunt gave cleaning-up directions to the men, grabbed her own coffee mug, and followed me outside, trailed by Kate, who’d opted for two generations of aunts instead of kitchen chores.
“Can I sit?” Aunt Frances asked, a smile quirking up one side of her mouth.
“Sure. This might take a few minutes.”
The three of us settled down, Aunt Frances and Kate on the cushioned love seat facing the street, me on a rocking chair. It was late morning with a glorious blue sky above; birds were singing, the sun was shining, people were out and about. I breathed deep of the fresh air and thought grateful thoughts.
Last night Kate and I had come far too close to death, and it would likely change both of us in ways we now couldn’t imagine. Upon my insistence, she’d called her parents before she’d gone to sleep and she’d tearfully told them the entire story. My brother had sighed and said something along the lines of, “I suppose all’s well that ends well.” Jennifer had cried, but not for very long, and she’d laughed when Kate had said she’d have the best ever “What I Did on My Summer Vacation” essay when school started.
“Nice morning,” Aunt Frances said. “But what are we doing out here?”
I used my tiptoes and started my chair rocking. “Waiting.”
“For what?”
Partly for an opportunity to fit Florida’s state motto of “In God We Trust” into the conversation. “Just waiting.” I nodded in the direction of her coffee. “All will be revealed before that gets cold.” At least I hoped so.
She shrugged and raised her mug. “Hope this isn’t an odd aftereffect of yesterday’s trauma. That you can’t stay indoors for more than an—” She stopped talking and squinted across the street. At the boardinghouse. “Well, that’s interesting,” she murmured.
The three of us watched a thirty-ish couple laden with backpacks hurry down the front steps, climb into a car topped with two stand-up paddle boards, and drive away.
“Wasn’t that Amy and Zach?” Kate asked.
“It certainly was.” I watched their taillights disappear. “A couple of weeks ago they were kiteboarding, but they’ve moved on. I hear they’re talking about renting a catamaran next weekend.”
Another couple came down the stairs. In their mid-fifties, they went at a more sedate pace, but they, too, had their hands full. Though they had picnic baskets, not backpacks, the contents were undoubtedly similar.
“Bert and Yvette,” I said, and waved. “Have a good day!” I called.
They waved back as they placed their baskets into the bed of Bert’s pickup truck. Yvette smiled. “We’re taking that road you recommended, the one out past the state forest land. Think we can get lost this time?” she asked Bert, turning her face up for a kiss.
“Get a room, you two!” Canary called as she walked out the front door. She was followed by Walter, who closed the door behind them.
“Well, if it isn’t Minnie.” She beamed. “Walter and I are headed to that wonderful toy store. Your friend Mitchell ordered us a new jigsaw and we just got a call that it’s in.”
“Better get going,” Walter said, “or someone might buy it out from under us.”
Canary laughed, but let herself be pulled along, and the elderly couple headed off briskly in the direction of downtown.
“Hmm.” Aunt Frances sipped her coffee, which was still steaming.
“Exactly,” I said. “Despite the appearance of no matchmaking, there is a significant amount of pairing going on.”
“How . . .” My aunt shook her head. And laughed. “You know what? I don’t care how. But you know what? It makes me happy.”
And if my aunt was happy, I was, too.
The three of us sat there for a few minutes, breathing in the morning air, feeling the easy peace of summer.
“So what are you two doing today?” Aunt Frances asked. “After yesterday, I’d say nothing is in order. And if you want to include me in that, I’m ready and waiting.”
Kate smiled. “I can do nothing until noon, but I’m scheduled to work at Older Than Dirt.”
“You sure you want to go in?” I asked. “I can call Pam and explain.”
“Aunt Minnie, I’m fine. What would I do all day anyway? And please don’t tell me pick raspberries.” But she said it with a smile.
Soon, she went off, as did Rafe, who said he had things to pick up before working on the house, and though Graydon had texted that I could take the day off, I decided to stop by the library to check e-mail. Three days of unanswered e-mails and I’d spend half of Monday reading and answering. As it was, I’d spend a good share of Monday morning telling the Shed Story, and there were things I needed to get done.
I slipped in the side door and, looking left and right, scurried into my office, closing the door without anyone seeing me.
Knock, knock.
Then again, it was entirely possible I wasn’t as stealthy as I’d thought. I’d have to ask Eddie for lessons.
My door opened and Graydon poked his head in. “Morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Yes, still morning, barely. Glad I caught you, I didn’t think you’d be in today.” He gestured at my office’s empty chair and, mentally waving good-bye to the productive hour I’d planned, I nodded for him to sit.
“This won’t take long,” he said, getting comfortable. “Did you know the board had a special meeting this morning?”
“Did not.” I felt my brow furrowing. They’d heard about yesterday’s escapade. Once again, I’d made a name for myself and not in a good way. Moral turpitude was included in my employment contract’s termination-for-cause section and they were going to fire me. What was I going to do? I hadn’t finished paying off my student loans, I needed to help Rafe pay for the house, and I didn’t want to sell my houseboat. Plus, I had the best job in the world and couldn’t imagine doing anything else, ever.
Graydon crossed an ankle over his knee. “It was an emergency meeting. Trent called it yesterday morning.”
I put my hand to my forehead and tried to smooth out my skin. Okay, not going to fire me. At least not for what had happened out on Brown’s Road. The library board’s bylaws allowed for emergency meetings, but they were only allowed under special circumstances. “What was it for?”
My boss inspected the sole of his deck shoe. “The attorney advising the board on Stan Larabee’s bequest is in town this weekend, and she wanted to give the board her final recommendation.” Graydon smiled. “Which they voted to adopt, all in favor.”