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“Nice to finally talk to you, Kate. I’ll keep an eye out for more beach glass for you.”

“Thank you, and thank you for the trinket,” I said, still clutching the red glass.

He nodded, his hands full, then smiled and headed back up the beach.

Not wanting to look like a heartbroken teenager, I headed down the boardwalk toward my cabin, pausing just once to glance his direction. To my surprise, he was also glancing back at me. Caught, both of us laughed. I smiled, waved, and then headed into the house.

Once inside, I stared down at the red sea glass…a red heart…a gift from the deep.

Chapter 4: Kate

The bell above the front door of my shop rang when I pushed it open the next morning. The small place, which I’d picked up for a steal during the Great Depression just after the dress shop therein had gone out of business, had a dated charm. A brick beauty constructed during the Victorian era. It boasted high ceilings with elaborate molding, a massive stone fireplace, wood floors, and a glimmering chandelier. After I purchased it, I’d converted it into a soda shop. The glass-lined soda fountain wall and counter was still there. The previous owners had used it as a bookstore. It still carried the sweet scent of old books, many of which I had stored in the back. Now, however, it was my small boutique.

I clicked on the lights. The chandelier sparkled, casting blobs of prismatic rainbows onto the ceiling that I’d painted to look like a cloudy sky. The aquamarine colored walls, trimmed with white molding, reminded me of waves and bubbly sea foam.

Tidying up a display of ships in a bottle, then stopping to breathe deeply beside the handmade soap stand, I headed to the back and turned on the sound system. Moments later, big band music swept through the store. I tapped my fingers along with the music as I sparked up the cash register. I closed my eyes, swaying to the music, remembering a hot summer night long past at the Chancellor Dance Hall and the delicious sailor I’d spent that night with before he shipped out to fight in World Word II. He never came home. From the roaring 20s through the swinging 40s, I must have had what humans call a midlife crisis. I spent twenty odd years running my soda shop in the daytime and doing the jitterbug at night. I’d been a flapper girl. The name always amused me. Some years later, the people of Chancellor started to remark on how young I looked. I left Chancellor. I roamed from town after town along the Great Lakes for nearly thirty years looking for others like me. But I’d never seen a single mermaid or merman anywhere. I finally gave up. There was no one. It was just me. I was glad to be back in Chancellor. When I looked out at the lake, knowing my old underwater kingdom was not so long of a swim away, I felt like I’d come home.

Smiling, I grabbed my duster, and worked my way around the store. When I was done, I headed to my workbench at the back. I set out last night’s haul of beach glass on the table, including the red beach glass Cooper had given me. Now, just what was I going to do with that? I snapped on the desk light and slid the pieces of glass under the magnifying lens. I’d given all the pieces of glass a bath after I got home last night, now I just needed to check them. One of the blue pieces had a small flower design on the glass. Probably an old perfume bottle. That piece would sell well. I set it aside.

“Mornin’,” a voice called from the door. “Where are you, Katie Bug?”

“Making jewelry,” I replied. It was Alice, my friend and the owner of the bagel shop, Hole Lot of Bagels, across the street.

“Moon River,” Alice sang loudly and off key as she headed back.

“This isn’t Moon River,” I called with a laugh.

“How the hell would I know? This is my grandma’s kind of music,” she replied with a laugh, setting a to-go box and a cup of coffee down in front of me.

“My customers like it.”

“Wow, where did you find this?” Alice asked, picking up the red beach glass.

“Well, I—“ I began, but Alice interrupted.

“Oh, Kate. Can I have it? Will you make me a necklace? Please? Free coffee the rest of the year!”

“You bring me free coffee almost every day anyway. And no, you can’t have it. I wasn’t the one who found it.”

“Bummer. Commission?” she asked then, looking through the other pieces of glass on my workbench.

“Not quite. The painter gave it to me.”

“No. Freaking. Way. You talked to him?”

“Just a little. His name is Cooper. He’s from here, I guess.”

Alice had moved to Chancellor relatively recently. She’d studied culinary arts at Chancellor College, the small liberal arts college in town, then stayed after she graduated to open her deli and bakery. She wasn’t a local. “So, how is he? He looks gorgeous from afar. Is he weird?”

I laughed. “No, he was polite. And he is gorgeous. And he turned me down for coffee, but he did give me this,” I said, picking up the red glass.

“Turned you down?”

I nodded.

Alice looked perplexed. “He’s gay.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Kate, what man in their right mind would turn you down? You have turned down every man in this town.”

“I don’t know,” I said, opening the deli box. I was treated to the scent of a freshly toasted bagel and the ripeness of cream cheese. “There was a vibe there, but he didn’t…I don’t think he’s interested. Probably a good thing. The last thing I need is to get involved with someone.” I picked up the bagel and took a bite.

“Well,” Alice said with a grin, “you better wipe that cream cheese off your lip just in case.”

“In case?”

“In case you’re wrong, because your painter is headed this way, and he’s carrying something big,” she said, gazing out the front window.

Chapter 5: Cooper

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I chided myself with every step I made as I walked from Juniper Lane toward the shop on Main Street. I’d been doing a good job of lying low since I got back. In spite of my gran’s friends’ best efforts to get me out socializing, I’d managed to avoid it. Those sweet old gals didn’t know, and I had no intention of telling them, why I was keeping to myself. I didn’t need a bunch of mother hens checking in on me. As it was, I slept most of the day anyway. The meds always made me nauseous. I hardly needed anyone seeing me throwing up or lying in a sweaty ball of clammy nausea. No one else needed to be dragged into my personal hell. But if that was the case, if that was how I really felt, why was I walking down Main Street toward The Glass Mermaid?

The wind whipped harshly, pressing against the canvas. I braced myself, holding on tight to the painting. Dammit, why was it so cold? I remembered riding my bike to Frog Creek at this time of year, spending the day swimming, fishing, and catching crawfish. It was May. Why was it so cold in May?

I paused when I came upon the shop. The teal-colored wooden sign hanging over the front door depicted a mermaid holding a heart in her hand. It rocked in the breeze. In the front window was a life-sized mermaid statue. Showing her sense of humor, Kate had put a t-shirt with the saying “I’d rather be a mermaid” on the statue, covering what was probably a clam-shell bra. My thoughts betrayed me for a moment as I remembered the way Kate’s white T-shirt had hugged her body, stretching across her large breasts.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I cursed myself again as gripped the canvas tightly.

Then I remembered something my gran used to say. “It’s not nice to call someone stupid.”