A Spirited Gift

She was beautiful—like an angel with her crystal blue eyes and black hair. She ran her hands over his arms and legs with a serious frown on her face. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Poor thing. You look nigh starved to death.”

Another horse came up behind them and a man climbed quickly down. “You shouldn’t stop for rabble, your ladyship,” he told her. “These urchins are everywhere. They call themselves Bankers, and they prey on anything that moves. You’re not safe here.”

The beautiful lady shot to her feet. “This child can’t prey on anyone, Mr. Fipps. I knocked him down with Vulcan. See that he gets to my uncle’s estate safely. I want him nursed back to health. Is that clear?”

He nodded. “Yes, Lady Forester. Right away.” He knelt close to him and whispered, “This is your lucky day, whelp. Be glad of it and give thanks.”

Forester! Lady Suzanne Forester!

Chapter 41

I woke up thinking about the makeup case I’d sold and the vision I’d had from it when I first acquired it. I’d seen her son as an adult giving her the makeup case for her birthday. I felt sure this was the same boy. Even as an adult, he had similar features.

If my dreams were right, the cabin boy that should have died trying to escape from Rafe not only survived but may also have been raised as a member of the English aristocracy. This was another piece in the puzzle that pointed to this boy being William Astor.

It would’ve been difficult, maybe impossible, for that cabin boy to become a magistrate without some family background or a patron to get him there. I had to look further into this, even if my dreams didn’t turn out to be true.

It was barely dawn, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. I showered, got dressed and went downstairs. Gramps was making French toast with the last of some stale bread. We spoke about repairing the windows in the house and some work he had to do on the Eleanore before he could take her back out on another chartered fishing trip.

Neither one of us mentioned the gun or my father. I ate a slice of French toast, then walked down to Missing Pieces alone.

I was surprised and pleased when our UPS delivery man, Stan, brought in some packages. “Morning, Dae. Things are starting to get back to normal out here, eh?”

“I think they are. I heard the Harris Teeter finally got a big delivery today. That’s some great news. Everyone has probably eaten all the canned and dried food they can stand for a while.”

He laughed. “My brother told me he’s been eating dried fish from last year. He’ll be first in the checkout line for sure.”

There weren’t any customers before or after his arrival. It was depressing and one of those things that always happened when I wanted to take my mind off of something. I dusted and reorganized the shop until there was nothing else to do but wait. Finally, I went out on the boardwalk to look at the sound.

A few seconds later, Trudy joined me on the bench. She told me her business was dead too. “People don’t worry so much about their hair and nails when they have holes in their roofs,” she said.

“That must be one of those words of wisdom,” I agreed. “Maybe you should send it to someone and make some money.”

“No one else would appreciate it unless they live someplace like this.” She shrugged her slender shoulders under the pink and blue nylon jacket she wore. “What’s up with you? You sound kind of down. Is it the murder thing?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” I didn’t tell her about the gun I was expecting. There was no reason for her to worry too. I told her instead about my single big sale for the week. It was exactly the right thing to say. We talked about it through our early lunch at Wild Stallions, and she shared her new plan for making her business more successful.

“I’m going to have a massage therapist come in once or twice a week,” she told me. “Like those full-service spas. I think it will bring in some new customers. We’ll be the queens of the Duck Shoppes boardwalk yet.”

We both laughed and enjoyed our time together. We talked about losing Phil and the coffee shop—something we both hated.