"No kidding," I said. As I turned a book on the history of Snug Harbor face out, on a whim, I took it down and flipped through it, glancing at the pictures of the town before electricity and cars. I recognized several of the big cottages down on the shore, the trees that were now enormous mere saplings.
"Who lives in these now?" I asked, showing them to Bethany.
"Cal Parker does... or did, anyway... for starters," she said. "Although a lot of them have been turned into inns. If you can find the Windswept house, that's his."
I flipped through until I found the page. "This one?" I asked, pointing to a picture of a massive, gorgeous Tudor-style house with a sprawling lawn.
"That's the one," she said. "Has a gorgeous view of the harbor and about nine thousand bedrooms."
"Only nine thousand?" I asked, grinning. "And his brother lives where?"
"In a shack not too far from the gas station."
"Wow," I said, looking at the enormous home in the picture. Had Cal Parker's parents really disowned one son in favor of the other? If so, why? I wondered.
And could that have something to do with why Cal died?
"So Cal is really invested in Snug Harbor."
"He is."
"What I don't get is, if he had a successful business, why would he want to be a selectman?"
"Men like Cal Parker are all about power," she told me, her young face solemn. As she spoke she ran her duster over the windowsill, which was decorated with Mason jars of blue and green sea glass that glowed in the sunlight. "He wants to put his stamp on Snug Harbor. I guess he figures the best way to do that is to control the reins of government."
"That makes sense, I suppose."
"Honestly? I think selectman was just his first step. He poured more money into his campaign than Snug Harbor has ever seen."
"It worked, apparently," I said. I put my hand on the wall; it had likely stood here for more than a hundred years. "With him gone, though, maybe they'll lay off on the code stuff?"
"Maybe," she said. "We've got to vote in a replacement, so at least we've got some time."
"Do you really think Scooter Dempsey wants to raze this place and put something huge and ugly here?"
"I guarantee it," she said, pointing her duster at me. "He and Cal Parker were thick as thieves. They've partnered on multiple ventures."
"Great," I said, with that sick feeling again. If Agatha was right, and there was in fact a second will, it looked like divorce might not be the worst thing I had to deal with that year.
10
At six, I decided to leave Bethany, who was doing her history homework behind the register, in charge. I retrieved Winston from his fluffy bed clipped a leash to his collar, and grabbed my travel mug with the last remains of coffee in it.
"We're going to go for a walk before it gets dark and maybe grab something to eat," I told Bethany. "Do you need me to pick anything up for you?"
"I'm good," she said. "Enjoy yourself; you could use a break after today."
"Call me if you need me, okay?" It was still bright outside, but the summer sun was dipping down toward the hills inland, giving everything a magical golden glow.
I couldn't bear going down to the beach at the moment—at least not behind the house—so I headed out to the sidewalk in front of the shop, heading down toward the town pier and Windswept, the house Cal lived in until his death.
I strolled past summer vacationers, families wearing windbreakers against the cooling air and licking ice cream cones as they ambled in and out of the souvenir shops. A whiff of balsam reached my nose as I passed Snug Harbor Gifts, which had always been my favorite store for locally made souvenirs, including balsam fir sachets in bright prints that I planned to load up on and tuck into my dresser drawers… once I had time, that was. And money. The Abigail Todd was about to head out for its sunset sail, the vacation-goers filing up the gangway to the four-masted sailing ship. Many of them, I noticed, were still in short sleeves and shorts; I hoped they had warmer gear in their purses and backpacks, or they might find their cruise a little chilly.
The two cannons that had been placed on a grassy knoll in earlier, more dangerous times to protect the harbor were now jungle gyms and photo op locations for families; I could hear the "orders" of two girls pretending to aim for the Abigail Todd as I walked past them toward the shoreline path, which was just above the beach and backed the massive "cottages" I'd seen pictured in the book of Snug Harbor's history.
The bustle of town was soon left behind, and the beauty of the Gulf of Maine stretched out below me as I stepped onto the well-kept path. Beach roses grew in tufts along the path, their winey scent perfuming the salt air, and below me, folks clambered over the occasional boulder or strolled down by the water's edge, searching for treasures left by the tide.
My attention, though, was not on the sea glass gems the tide washed up, but the massive homes perched above the shore path. Although many of them had burned in a fire almost a hundred years ago, and several more had been torn down over the years, several still stood in commanding positions over the Shore Path. I passed an enormous red brick compound, followed by a beautiful shingle-style home that reminded me of Seaside Cottage Books, only on an extremely powerful dose of steroids, and then reached Windswept, the large Tudor home owned by the late Cal Parker. Whereas the other homes
