CHAPTER 22
I didn’t linger too long at the parsonage. I was back in the brisk fresh air aimed for my shop by nine thirty only slightly tipsy. Mom had suggested sending along a mimosa in a travel mug for Orlean and plain OJ for Derrick, but I told her not to. Derrick was a recovering alcoholic, and I didn’t want that temptation anywhere near my shop, no matter how well he was doing. I also doubted sips of bubbly would help Orlean’s fine-motor control, an important factor in working on bicycle parts.
Across Main Street from the church sat a town park. It didn’t resemble the scenic green in front of the library and the town hall closer to the center of town. The town didn’t maintain this rather seedier natural space very well. The various sleeping bags and ragtag tents scattered under scrubby cypress trees made the park even less visually attractive—to some. Pa always said the encampment of the homeless transformed the park into a godlier place, not something to be scorned. Certain people in town didn’t agree with him. The local paper had published letters that maintained the campers should be cleared out entirely. That the park had become an eyesore and drove away tourists.
Pretty soon the temperature would make it too cold to sleep outdoors, and even now the tents and bags were drenched from the storm. Gin and I needed to get that coat drive underway, and soon. Another friend had organized a collection of socks and toiletries to give out, and I knew Zane bought a bunch of rotisserie chickens a couple of times a month and dropped them off to each temporary resident. All these were only Band-Aids on a much wider problem. But we did what we could.
I stood rooted to the sidewalk. Nia Rodrigues very likely lived in that cluster of makeshift homes. I wanted to talk with her. I also expected if I poked around in the campers’ privacy, such as it was, I would be entirely unwelcome. I’d have to wait to run into her somewhere. Or . . . she would probably be at the free dinner at the end of today. I hadn’t signed up to work, but I knew they rarely turned away an extra pair of experienced hands from helping out at the meals.
I moved on. When I walked into the shop, Derrick had already begun helping rental customers. He gave me a thumbs up and turned back to them. I poked my head into the repair area.
“ ’Morning, Orlean.”
My mechanic set down her wrench and stripped the blue glove off her right hand. “Hear you have good news. Congratulations.” Orlean, normally as undemonstrative as they come, extended her meaty, weathered hand.
Wow. Mom must have called Derrick and he’d shared the news. I smiled and shook her hand. “Thanks. I’m very happy.”
“Brunelle’s a good man. Hang onto him.” She pulled the glove on again and returned to her work.
“I’ll do my best.” Clearly dismissed, I turned away.
“I mean it, Mac,” she muttered. Orlean had been married to a man who had ended up incarcerated. The brother of my backup mechanic, Orlean’s husband had been released and had come back to apologize to her, but they hadn’t been able to work things out.
“So do I.” I knew I had a steep learning curve in front of me. I would need to figure out how to live with Tim, how to be a mom, the works. But what was life if not a series of new things to learn?
The return of the sunshine, no matter how brisk the temperature, brought a flood of customers who sought all three Rs: repair, retail, and rental. During a momentary break Derrick hurried over and enveloped me in a massive hug. “I’m happy for you, Mackie.” He pulled back, his eyes glistening.
“You’re such a teddy bear, Derr. And thanks. See my pretty ring?” I showed him my left hand.
“Very nice. Tasteful and simple. That Brunelle knows what he’s doing.”
I agreed completely.
I stood at the register handling sales. My thoughts moved away from my future and back to the day Tulia found Annette’s body. Doris had stood in this line—and not to shop. She’d made a jab at Tulia’s ethnicity and complained about the discarded lobster shells. Sure, once in a while it smelled a little when Tulia’s seafood compost guy hadn’t picked up the barrel promptly. That rarely happened, in my experience.
As we’d discussed in the group, if Doris had known Annette, she could have thought staging her death in Tulia’s walk-in would put the Lobstah Shack out of business. It was a long shot. But stranger things had happened. Maybe I’d stop by Doris’s later and see what she stocked for parrot food. I usually bought Belle’s food from the hardware store. The man who owned it offered a good price and often tucked in a treat for Belle, too. And I could—
The man who faced me across the counter cleared his throat. “Could I have my slip, please?”
Oops. I held the credit card receipt for his tube, patch kit, and chain lube in my hand. No more musing on murder while customers waited. “Thanks for your business, sir.”
My bottom line would rejoice today. We sold three new bikes, a pre-owned children’s tricycle, and a steady stream of socks, pumps, helmets, and lights.
The shop had started to empty at eleven when Mom and Abo Reba strolled in.
“I left my trike outside,” Mom said. “Can Orlean fix it while we wait?”
I glanced at the repair area. “I have no idea but go ahead and ask her.” I rang up the last remaining customer.
“We want to get a ride in today. The weather is glorious.” My grandmother beamed and sidled up next to me. “Astra and I were thinking you should have a New Year’s Eve wedding. Just imagine, your husband would never forget the date.” She winked.
“But that’s almost three months away.” Now that I’d taken the plunge, I wanted to jump into marriage with both feet. Some switch had turned in my brain—and my heart, to be honest—and I didn’t care to delay. “Why wait so long?”
“You know you have aunties, uncles, and cousins on both sides of the family scattered everywhere. I’m sure your betrothed does, too, not to mention his mother, living on a Caribbean island the way she does. And his father in California. They’re all going to want to be here. Plus, you can’t rent a place with only a week’s notice. Why, there’s the caterer and the florist and the invitations. And what about your dress?”
I set my elbow on the counter and sank my forehead into my hand. What happened to my vision of a simple ceremony and a backyard barbecue? We sure wouldn’t be able to hold an outdoor cookout on December thirty-first.
I straightened. “First things first, okay, Abo Ree? Tim and I haven’t even discussed what shape our wedding should have, or when. Can you and Mom please hold off until then?”
“Hold off on what?” my mother asked, hurrying up.
“Planning my wedding without consulting Tim and me.” Even though I’d thought that would be an excellent plan a couple of hours ago.
“But the planets will be in a perfect place for a union on the last day of the year.” Mom’s eyes sparkled. “And think of the significance!”
I set both hands on her shoulders. “Mom, I love you. I love your passion for astrology. But this is my special day, mine and Tim’s. Let me talk to him and I’ll get back to both of you. Soon, I promise.”
“Sure, honey.” Nothing dampened Astra’s spirit. No wonder she and her mother-in-law were close. “We’re headed next door for lunch.”
“To Tulia’s?” I asked.
She nodded. “Can we bring you a sandwich? Some chowder?”
“No, thanks. I bought lunch there yesterday. Tell her I’ll stop by later, will you?”
Mom agreed. I gave her and Abo Reba each a kiss on the cheek and watched them bustle out. Together—and separately—they were a force of nature. Darn, I’d wanted to ask them if they had any dirt on Doris, or even on Nia. Well, not dirt as much as information of any kind. Never mind. I’d see them later, together or apart. And I really didn’t care if the stars were aligned for solving a murder this week, although I supposed it couldn’t hurt. The sooner Lincoln cleared Tulia’s name, the better.