A Spirited Gift

“That’s enough for me. It should be enough for you too. Who cares who killed that silly female and her lover? You have a once-in-a-lifetime chance to clear your blood relative’s name. That should be enough to occupy your silly female brain.”

“Go away,” I told him. “I have a headache. I don’t feel like talking to you.”

“Bah! You don’t know if you’re up or down. I’m going to have some rum.”

Chapter 44

Gramps coddled and fussed over me the rest of the day. He even skipped his newly restarted pinochle game to stay home. We watched TV together, and I wondered if he’d told everyone to leave us alone that night—the phone didn’t ring once.

It was nice and cozy—a good way to recover from the shock of emotions coming from the gun. Kevin had been right about the extreme passion, anger, hatred and fear.

But I pulled out of it, and the next morning I was fine. I’d slept well—no wisecracking pirates or fatal dreams about the past. I was ready to go to Missing Pieces when Mrs. Euly Stanley called me.

“Dae, you won’t believe it! I think we’ve found the magistrate’s descendant. Come down to the museum and take a look.”

“I’ll be right there,” I told her and closed my cell phone.

“Is this it? Is this the diary?” Rafe demanded as I walked out the front door.

“I don’t know yet. She didn’t mention the diary—just William Astor’s descendant. He or she may not live here anymore. We may have to call or email them to find out if the diary still exists.”

“Go on with ye and your fancy blasted words. Tell me when you know where it is.”

“Since you seem to hang around all the time and listen in on private phone conversations, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

I got a “Bah” for my trouble, but it didn’t bother me. I was almost running along Duck Road—as excited as the pirate ghost that hovered near my shoulder.

Having him with me made me wonder how many ghosts were out there that most of us couldn’t see. Was there a ghost following Luke Helms as he jogged by in the other direction, waving to me as he went? Was Cailey Fargo’s Aunt Twinny whispering in her ear as she drove the fire chief’s SUV to the station? How many ghosts were trying to communicate but we couldn’t hear them?

Marissa was at the Blue Whale’s mailbox at the end of the driveway as I went by—breathlessly walking now. “Morning, Dae! You look like you’re in a hurry.”

“I was until I realized how out of shape I am. How are the repairs coming along?”

We both looked up with our hands shading our eyes against the bright sun. Kevin was silhouetted before the brilliant blue sky, a pack of shingles slung over one shoulder. He waved to both of us, then disappeared over the crest of the roof.

“Pretty good. Another couple of weeks and it will be like the mayor’s conference never happened.” She frowned, her pretty face puckering. “Sorry. Not that it wasn’t a good idea. You couldn’t know there’d be a storm.”

“Or a murder. But that’s okay. I know what you mean. Maybe we’ll try it again someday—if Kevin will ever consider it again.”

“He’d do anything for you. It’s good when a man cares that much. Not many do—at least not in my experience.”

I smiled, recalling that Marissa was divorced after a disastrous marriage. “I think there’s someone for everyone. I hope you find your someone too.”

She didn’t respond, just hugged the mail to her and walked back to the Blue Whale. I hated that terrible sadness I felt from her each time we talked. She was so pretty—it was hard to believe men weren’t beating down her door. But maybe they were all the wrong men. Shayla seemed to have the same problem.

Rafe urged me toward the museum, and I burst in the door as the group was discussing the exciting implications of their new historic find.

“Come on in, Dae,” Mrs. Stanley said, her faded blue eyes sparkling with the thrill of new knowledge. “There are sticky buns from the bakery and coffee on the side table. Help yourself.”

But I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. I sat down and peeked over Mark Samson’s shoulder as he looked at a new family tree.

“This is awesome!” he raved. “Not that we didn’t know there were magistrates that governed the islands during those early times.”

“But many of their names and family histories have been lost down through the years,” Andy Martin continued. “Look here, Dae. You can see where Magistrate William Astor married Mary Smith-Masterson. They had four children—two sons from her previous marriage that he adopted as his own. Mary and William had two more children together in the eight years they were married.”

“What happened to her?” I asked with no prodding from Rafe.

“Not a clue at this point except that she died and Astor remarried and had two more children,” Mark explained.

I felt let down. Mary was such a valiant woman. I wanted to know more about her. I’d have to research her later. “Did any of the Astor children survive?”