As Kate strolled down Main Street with Oliver trotting along on one side and a box of cookies clasped in her hands, she realized all over again just how beautiful Coral Cay really was. Already midday, the sun was high in the sky, but the breeze was cool and salty. Petunias—in shades of coral, hot pink, purple, and yellow—spilled out of giant stone pots up and down the block, while jasmine climbed the lampposts, its scent wafting in the air. Some shops even added to the dizzying display with window boxes and hanging baskets heavy with blooms.
Something told her Maxi and her green thumbs might have had a hand in it. Or maybe Floridians just loved their flowers.
She spotted her destination, In Vino Veritas, and sighed heavily.
Oliver looked up. She could have sworn she saw concern in the black button eyes.
“It’s OK, baby. We’re just going in to have a nice little talk. Maxi wanted to come, but she’s got orders backing up at the flower shop. And someone has to keep an eye on the Cookie House, in case the crews need something. Or any of our deliveries arrive. Or the health inspector shows up early.”
In fact, she and Maxi had mulled this over for a good ten minutes. In the end, Kate decided she could handle Harp on her own. And if she could get him talking, he might be more willing to spill about his dealings with Lord. But they agreed she’d take the pup. As a distraction. And, if needed, a convenient excuse to leave quickly in case things got uncomfortable.
“You really are my knight in fuzzy armor, you know that?”
The exuberant puppy stretched his neck high and practically bounced the remaining few steps.
Kate took a deep breath and pulled open the ornate door. From the outside, Harp’s shop had a Victorian air, with heavy molding and deep bay windows. Inside it smelled like exotic spices and looked like money. Lots of money.
“Well, if it isn’t the pastry chef herself,” the proprietor drawled, stepping out from behind a marble counter. Today he’d opted for Ivy League casual: crisply pressed khakis and a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. “To what do I owe this very welcome diversion in my otherwise humdrum day?”
“Well, the Cookie House is going to start baking cookies. All kinds of sweets, really. To spread the word, we’re sharing some samples with our friends and neighbors,” she said, presenting the gift box.
“Well, I certainly hope I qualify as both,” Harp said with an easy grin. He flipped open the box lid and inhaled deeply. “Oh my, these look truly superb! So good, in fact, they might become my lunch.”
“The dark ones are pecan brownie cookies. And the ones with powdered sugar are anise and almond. An old family recipe.”
“Oh, I love anise. Anything that tastes like licorice, really. I had a great-aunt who used to make anise cookies.” He picked one up and took a small bite. “Oh my, this really takes me back.”
“That’s the great thing about cookies,” Kate said. “It’s like a little taste of childhood.”
“In my case, it’s an age I’m not sure I ever left. Mentally anyway.” He held out the open box to Kate, who selected a brownie cookie.
“I’d offer you wine, but I am certain you are too much of a lady to be drinking at this early hour.”
“Not too much of a lady, but there’s definitely too much on my to-do list this afternoon. We’re trying to get the bakery reopened this Saturday. We’d love it if you’d stop by. The first day, we’re giving away all the baked goods, fresh out of the oven. To say thanks for everything everyone is doing for Sam.”
“I heard about the redo. And I’ll be happy to attend. Now, how about some coffee to go with these delicious cookies? I’ve got some wonderful stuff brewing. With chicory, the way they do it in my hometown of New Orleans. Smooths the rough edges off the old coffee bean.”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
She and Oliver followed him to a butler’s pantry in the back corner of the shop, where a hand-hammered copper coffee urn rested on the white marble counter. As she trailed behind him, she caught the scent of his cologne. Something citrusy. Lime. Either Harp had switched fragrances or he wasn’t their burglar.
The pup whined softly.
“It’s OK,” she said sotto voce. “We’ll finish your walk next. I promise. You’re being very good.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything for young Oliver,” Harp said. “This is the first time he’s actually favored me with a visit. But I’ll be certain to keep a little something on hand for next time.”
“He’s fine,” Kate explained. “He just wants to get back to his walk. Don’t you, boy?”
Oliver’s curious expression said otherwise. But he stretched out on the floor by her feet like a sphinx. Relaxed but alert.
Harp set down the cookies and, with a flourish, produced two china cups from the mahogany cupboard. Along with matching saucers. He filled the first cup and handed it gently to Kate.
“This coffeemaker may seem like an extravagance,” he said as she poured a bit of cream into the cup from an ancient-looking sterling silver vessel. “But it more than pays for itself by fueling the hours I put in here. Or perhaps I am simply spoiled. I do love the finer things.”
He ladled several spoons full of brown sugar into his own cup, followed that with a generous splash of cream, and raised it. “Cheers!”
Kate took a sip. Harp was right. With just a little cream, the coffee was velvety. So dissimilar from Cuban coffee it could be an entirely different beverage. But equally delicious.
Kate smiled. “I’ve noticed that everyone in town seems to have their own way of bringing the comforts of home to their shops.”
“Ah, sounds like you’ve seen the Kims’ setup. Truly ingenious! Well, when you run a store, the hours are brutal. Positively grueling. Of course, I would never do anything else.” He looked at his surroundings and sighed. “I love this place.”
Kate sensed an opening. “But you’re thinking of selling,” she said softly.
“How did you…?” He grinned and shook his head. “Ah, there are absolutely no secrets in a small town. And if you’re plugged into the local gossip mill, you really are one of us now. I’m afraid there’s no turning back. Yes, I was considering it. Still am, in fact. Who knows what the future holds? I suppose you’ve heard about my situation?”
Kate nodded, sipping her coffee.
“One minute, life is sailing along. Everything is perfect. The next, not so much. Caroline’s been in touch. All part of the process, apparently. Informs me that she’s simply bored. Bored with Coral Cay, bored with the shop, and, frankly, bored with me. She wants to relocate to one of her old haunts in Europe. Preferably Paris or Rome. Use that as a base of operations and travel again. ‘Rejoin the world,’ she calls it. So yes, I’m considering selling this place. Even though I don’t want to.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
Reflexively, Kate glanced down. Only then did she notice Harp’s shoes. An expensive-looking pair of wing tips.
“It’s my own fault,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone. Not until now. You’re easy to talk with. Lucky you,” he added ruefully. “Of course one can’t exactly tell the town fathers that one’s wife views their picturesque little hamlet as a—let’s see, how did she put it?—‘brackish backwater where mosquitos, hurricanes and humans go to die.’”
“Yowch!”
“She doesn’t mince words, my wife. At least, I think she’s still my wife. I keep getting mixed messages on that one. But I digress.”
“Have you received any decent offers on the store?”
“Not yet. To be honest, I haven’t been shopping it all that seriously. One interested party proposed an offer. But, as it turns out, he was simply hoping for a fire sale discount. Due to my … complicated domestic situation.”
“Stewart Lord.”
“Ah, good news travels fast. Bad news even faster. The mantra of village life.”
“I was just surprised you’d deal with him. He seems like such a … well…”
“Miscreant?”
“Exactly.”
“Yes, but he was a miscreant with the financial resources to solve my present problem. Unfortunately, he didn’t wish to part with enough of his filthy lucre. So that was that.”
“When you said no, how did he take it?”
“A lot of bluff and bluster. Which, from what I gather, was normal for him.”
“Any threats?”
Harp’s eyebrows went up. “Well, he did mention something about money now being better than regrets and empty pockets later. And he reliably informed me that absolutely no one was going to make me a better offer. Or any offer. Seemed rather smug about it, too. I take it that’s what passed for hard-nosed negotiating in his part of the world.”
“Did he ever say what part of the world that was? No one can seem to find any evidence of his existence before he showed up in the U.S.”
“Oh, the plot thickens! He always implied that he was from London. The East End. Before all the art galleries and restaurants. You know, hardscrabble boy from the rough streets. The Artful Dodger made good. Wouldn’t it be rich if the whole Cockney thing was a façade and he really grew up in a middle-class neighborhood in Sheboygan?”
“Well, something with his story is off. Did he ever mention family?”
“Not to me. But before he made the offer, I’d only met him two or three times. He’d popped into the shop. When it came to wines, he could talk the talk. But there was something, I don’t know, studied about it. I remember he said he loved scotch. Claimed his everyday tipple was MacKendrick single malt. Vintage Cask.”
“MacKendrick’s a good name. I’m not a scotch drinker, but I know that much from working in restaurants.”
“Well, that particular variety retails for three hundred dollars a bottle and up. It’s wonderful to enjoy the finer things. And to have the wherewithal to do it. But I suspect he enjoyed the price tag more than the drink.”
“Bragging rights?”
“Precisely. Put cheap rotgut in a glass and tell him it was the good stuff? That man would have never known the difference.”
Harp plucked another sugar-dusted cookie from the box. As he did, Kate caught the flash of something on his forearm. The corner of a large, skin-colored bandage.
“You’ve hurt yourself?” she asked, pointing.
“Oh, that,” he said cheerfully. “The patch. With everything up in the air the way it’s been, I’m afraid I slipped up my own self. Started smoking again. But never fear, I’m back on the wagon again. Almost a week now.”