Madi’s wide eyes never left the finely-sculpted features. “I think it is a wonderful name for a princess!” she insisted.
Agatha laughed musically. “You funny dear! I am not a—“ She stopped and shook her head. “Thank you,” she simply responded. She looked up at the doctor, “and you are—“
“Doctor Grove, from Chelsea,” said Ash, shaking her hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Dalton.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Madi concurred as she grabbed her father’s hand.
Agatha nodded with a smile. “Do you keep a house here?” she asked.
Dr. Grove shook his head. “Not quite; Madi and I are here on a holiday. We’ve let one of the cottages near the waterfront.”
“Splendid!” Agatha cried brightly. “Why, that makes us practically neighbors! Have you been here before?”
“No,” answered Madi, warming up to the beautiful maiden before her.
“I came once or twice, when I was a boy,” said Grove.
“Well then,” Agatha announced, “Let me be the first to welcome you to Afton-By-The-Sea!”
“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Dr. Grove acknowledged, even as Madi gave a small tug on his hand.
“Daddy!” she cried, “Can we see the ocean? I want to look for shells!"
Ash sighed. "Not now, Madi; perhaps after we've had a bit of a rest to settle ourselves."
"But I'm not the least bit tired!" Madi seized the lace-gloved hand beside her. "Miss Agatha can go with us!"
Miss Agatha opened her mouth, but just then, a young man in a finely-tailored suit addressed her.
"Agatha! Oh cripes, I've been looking everywhere for you." He snatched her hand away from Madi at the elbow and leaned in as if to speak privately, but at the same time, used a tone just loud enough that the father and daughter heard every word. "This bloody useless shack doesn't have the model I wanted. As if they didn't even care to order up the stock for the customers who really mattered!" He sneered without actually looking at the pair directly. "Aren't holidayers annoying? Were they bothering you? Let's get out of here, sister."
"Thomas!" Agatha tried to protest as he deliberately pushed her along in front of him. "Don't be rude."
She reached out and patted the doctor's shoulder. "Dreadfully sorry; my brother didn't mean—"
"Of course I did," Thomas cut her off. "Good day!" The door swung shut behind them.
Grove glanced back at Madi, still rooted at his side. He saw the pained expression on her face, the one that did not quite understand everything precisely, but felt it intimately. She might even be close to tears. Ash laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as she leaned against him.
"It's all right, Mads," he said softly. "We'll go out to the shore tomorrow, hey?"
Madi bravely swallowed the lump of disappointment in her throat and nodded.
Chapter 2
The night was heavy with portents of a storm oncoming. The sky rumbled darkly, and the thick air clung to every surface. The streets were still and empty, as most of the temporary residents on holiday bided their time for fairer weather, and those who lived in the village on a more consistent basis knew better than to attempt venturing out into the stagnant night.
The flickering light of the sparse street lamp cast its gleaming glow on the fur of a large black dog loping alone down the street. He paused to listen to the warm breeze wafting through the sawgrass atop the dunes. The fence-boards in front of the cottages flanking the road gave soft creaks, and the scent of rodents wandered to his nose, but the large hound ignored the enticement of a hunt. He trotted down the road, sniffing to find his way in the late-night shadows.
He paused at the intersection of another road across the main thoroughfare. On the one side, he caught a scent at once familiar--the smell of safety, of rest, of companionship and home. The dog thumped his tail, sniffing up the other side. That road led away from his home, but it was this road he chose. He continued up the wide, rutted lane, toward the large mansion with much light pouring out of its many windows. As he approached, the dogs's tail perked up, and his legs paced faster. He smelled the dinner cooking for the mansion's occupants. He smelled the sweet savor of seasoned pork.
The young dog turned down the road beside the large walls of brick, iron, and tall shrubs surrounding the property. When the smell sharpened and melded with his own unique odor, he knew he had found the spot where the shrubs parted and a small gate stood. Beside the gate, in the gap at the base of the shrubbery, the dog could fit and access the yard--this was the way he had come many times before.
The dog sniffed once more as he prepared to cross the lane and enter the yard--but instinct drove him back into the shadows, so close and yet so far from his goal of food and comfort.
Another scent had overridden that of the pork, this one full of human reek and stale, stagnant tides, of malice and danger. The dog crouched down with his tail tucked close behind his legs, and watched two men approach the gate. A third man greeted them from inside the gate. The faithful dog tensed to full alert.
The third man belonged to the house. The other two did not--and if they attempted to harm the third man in any way, the dog would intervene and leap to his defense. They did not attempt to force the gate nor injure the man inside, and very soon, a voice called the man back into the house. The two strangers walked away until their scents faded on the wind.
The black dog wagged his tail as he crossed the street and slipped between the bushes, eager for scraps and pets. Perhaps his friend would let him stand in the yard and watch the windows for a glimpse of his person.
He waited on the threshold where the
