CHAPTER 8
In my shop, Orlean adjusted the brakes on one of our blue rental bikes. Otherwise the quiet meant a lack of shoppers and renters. It would only become quieter as the season slid into weather not so friendly to cyclists. I should probably think about a fall promotion or some other way to make sure customers—and cash—flowed in. The business had thrived in the year and a half since I’d opened it, but that was never a guarantee it would stay that way.
I’d stopped by the Lobstah Shack on my way back here to see if Tulia had returned. The restaurant had been dark, locked, and still strung with the ominous yellow tape. I didn’t know if she’d been released and gone home to Mashpee, or if they still questioned her at the station. I hoped it wasn’t the latter.
My brother sat on the stool behind the Mac’s Bikes retail counter and frowned at his phone. A big man, he stood over six-foot-two and tended to carry a bit of weight. I’d inherited my speedy metabolism from Abo Reba. Because Derrick and I were half-siblings, Reba wasn’t his grandmother by blood, and his body took a much more relaxed approach to the food he consumed.
“Hey, Derrick. I’m back.”
“Hi, sis.” He glanced up and rubbed his light hair, which had begun to recede from his brow.
“What’s the frown for?”
“It’s this business with Annette. Her daughter Kendall is one of Cokey’s friends at school. I feel bad for the kid, and I’m worried about what Cokey will think, how she’ll react.”
“Because her own mom disappeared from her life last year.”
“Right. I think I’d better not go out to book group tonight. She’s going to need me at home.” He let out a breath.
“Did you know Annette or her husband?”
“I’ve met Phil around, and last summer I took Cokey to their house for Kendall’s birthday party. They seemed like nice enough folks, although I thought Phil acted a bit nasty to his wife.”
“Nasty? Like what?” I asked.
“You know. Putting her down. Making fun of her in a mean way. That kind of thing.” His eyes flickered as he glanced at the door, where a group made its way in. “Here comes the afternoon rush.”
Neither of us had time to talk about Annette’s death again. Rentals, retail, and repairs took up the rest of the day. But I could tell my brother had concerns. I did, too. Cokey’s mother had taken her to France to live as a newborn. She and Derrick had been a couple but hadn’t married. He couldn’t legally prevent her from moving abroad with the baby. When my niece turned three, her mother asked Derrick to come and get their daughter. After that, she basically dropped communications.
Our parents stepped in to help—Cokey stayed with Mom or Pa most afternoons—and the girl was a resilient little beam of sunshine nearly all the time. But sadness at not being with her Maman popped up from time to time. That my niece’s friend lost her own mother would be tough to handle. And if Kendall’s father was a meanspirited man, he might not have the emotional resources to nurture his daughter through a hard time.