“Well, you can give me all the history lessons you want. I still think it tastes like crap.”
Kate laughed. “All you have to do is walk next door and get a cup of java from Pops. What’s the matter, scaredy-cat?”
As if on cue, Liz heard a rustling coming from a basket with double handles that butted up to the arm of the sofa. She scooched closer to Kate and saw two small ears surface from the basket.
“Wow,” Kate said. “Bronte doesn’t come out for strangers. Ever. She must know you’re an animal person.”
A gray-and-white striped tiger kitten hopped out of the basket and landed on Liz’s bare leg, digging all eighteen claws into her flesh. Liz said, “Oww.” Then she kissed Bronte on her pink nose. “She’s adorable. Whom does she belong to? Not you, I’m sure.”
Kate sneezed.
“Bless you.”
“Thanks. She’s everyone’s—well, actually, she lives in the emporium. Someone left a box of kittens by the front door. We were able to find homes for them all, including Bronte, but she keeps hiding when it’s time to hand her over to her new owner. Everyone but Brittany agreed she would be the emporium’s mascot. Even though I’m allergic, I figure this might be the only way I can ever have a cat. She’s worth a sneeze or two, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. How’d she get her name? Let me guess. Your favorite author?”
“Not exactly, but the Brontë sisters are at the top of my list. For some reason, the section of classic books with Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is where Bronte loves to hang out.”
“She doesn’t seem unsociable to me,” Liz said. The kitten was already sound asleep on her lap.
“Aww. She likes you. Hey, did you catch this in Florida Today?” Kate handed Liz a folded newspaper topped with a photo of Regina wearing the Queen Maria Louisa of Spain’s gold-and-emerald necklace and matching pendant earrings. Liz realized it was the first time she’d ever seen the woman smile. Underneath the photo, it read:
Mrs. Regina Harrington-Worth will be the guest of honor tomorrow evening at the Carlisle Beach Ballroom for the Treasure Coast Spring Ball in Vero Beach, benefiting the American Heart Association. Mrs. Harrington-Worth will be giving a short presentation about her famous father, Percival Harrington II, and his contribution to the Melbourne Beach and Orchid Island area. Tickets will be $250.00 a plate. Please contact Gayle Kramer at carlislebeach.com/reservations.
“Ick. Her necklace and earrings are too gaudy,” Kate said. “Aunt Amelia must be happy she has a celebrity guest, although I don’t think Francie is too thrilled, especially with the proposed demolition of Castlemara. You didn’t hear it from me, but I think they might even have protesters tomorrow at the Spring Fling by the Sea.”
“I don’t think there’s any need to worry,” Liz said. “Regina wouldn’t dare show up at the Spring Fling, too lowbrow for her taste.”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The door to the emporium slammed shut, the sound reverberating off the thirty-foot ceiling. Then they heard a female voice screech, “Who parked their damn golf cart in my parking spot?”
Hurricane Brittany had just blown into town.
“I have to go talk to Edward,” Liz said. “He had quite the Grinch-face last night at dinner.”
“When doesn’t he?”
Liz stood and put a snoozing Bronte on the cushion behind her.
“Wow, she’s staying on the sofa. You must have a magic touch,” Kate said.
Liz smiled. Words she hadn’t heard in a long time.
She left Kate to mind the shop and went over to Gold Coast by the Sea. Edward hadn’t spent a lot of time trying to fix up his shop. It was bare boned, with locked display cases and a small desk with a lighted magnifying glass, desk lamp, and a laptop to look up current coin and estate jewelry values. He not only appraised gold items, he also sold some items that he would stack on velvet trays inside the two lighted show cases on either side of the shop. There was a scale for weighing the gold, and behind him, a vintage bank safe that Kate had sold him, in which he put his valuables at night after he closed the shop, ever complaining about the four-foot walls and the lack of security. Aunt Amelia had told him he could set up his own security camera for the interior of the shop. There was already one camera facing the parking lot that went to a feed on Liz’s father’s laptop, as well as to their security company in Melbourne. Another camera was stationed outside the front entrance to the hotel.
“You still going on with this Spring Fling idea?” Edward whined. “It sounds like a sophomoric high school dance. Who came up with the name?” With his peaked eyebrows and thin mustache, he looked the spitting image of Vincent Price.
The title, Spring Fling by the Sea, had been Aunt Amelia’s, but Liz defended it to bristly Edward. “I like the name. It’s fresh and perky.”
“Have you seen Nick? I don’t like him hanging around with that Brittany woman. He didn’t come home last night.”
Liz would love to chat with Edward, but not about his son and Brittany. They were both adults. She just wanted Saturday’s festivities to go off as planned. “I know Brittany just came in. I’m sure you heard her. Why don’t you ask her? I hope we can still count on you to do some free coin appraisals tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah. If anyone had told me six months ago I’d be sitting behind a desk all day on my rear end, instead of out on the open sea, at the bow of Mermaids Bounty, I would have told them to kiss my keister.”
“Why did you give up the business?” Liz asked.
“Too damn expensive, and I couldn’t find a competent salvaging team, case in point, my deadbeat son. Plus, I needed the money from the sale.”
Liz wanted to ask why,
