Who knows, she thought. Maybe she’d run into Xavier.
12
By the time Maris had gone up and down every aisle of the market, her cart was getting full. It was often the case that there’d be a long shopping list when the B&B was running close to capacity, but right now, it definitely wasn’t. Instead, Maris knew what was happening. From her initial loss of appetite on the day Audrey had been killed, she’d already switched to anxiety eating. Sparked by the special Belgian chocolate the previous night—and how wonderfully comforting it’d been—she’d added her favorite candy bar to the basket, along with some chunks of dark chocolate, and fudge cookies. As usual, her chocolate superpower had led her to all the best. She wheeled her cart to the checkout.
“Did you find everything you need?” Howard asked.
If Maris wasn’t mistaken, his billowing white hair looked a bit more flyaway than usual.
“And then some,” Maris said, taking out the fresh vegetables first.
Rather than ring them up, however, Howard went to the long wood counter where the big glass jars of hard candy were set up in a long row. Although there seemed to be every color of the rainbow and every flavor, he went directly to the big jar with the beige and brown spiral sticks. Using a piece of wax paper, he took one out.
When he brought it back to her, he was beaming. “A barber pole for the little lady.”
Maris grinned back. He never forgot. It’d been their ritual since she’d been just a girl.
“Well,” she said, accepting the root beer candy. “Not so little any more, but always grateful.” She popped the end in her mouth. “Thank you,” she said around it.
The diet was definitely going to have to wait.
As Howard rang up her goods, she noticed the flyers next to the cash register. But even from a distance she could tell they were not the same flyers they’d used during the rally. She moved closer. Although at the top the bold letters said, ‘STOP THE RIG’ as had the others, below there was some type of technical illustration. Clearly it was the silhouette of a giant boat with the bay below it, and it seemed to be dragging some type of long pod or maybe a small submarine behind it. Giant circles emanated from it.
Maris frowned a little. Was it sonar?
Some items in the illustration were labeled, but what really drew her eye was the massive lettering at the bottom: ‘NAP KILLS.’ The entire illustration between the two lines of text was circled with a slash going through it.
“What do you think?” Howard asked her as he bagged the groceries.
She tilted her head. “Well, I think the message is pretty clear.”
“Exactly,” he said nodding. “I’d like nothing better than to clobber them with science, but people won’t read a journal publication.”
“Is this something you’ve researched?” she asked.
“Of course,” he exclaimed. “Everyone should.” He paused for a second and looked around the shop, which made Maris do the same. They were alone. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sorry that poor girl died. But her death shows you exactly how important it is to keep NAP out of the bay. It’s deadly important. The bay would die.”
“Die?” Maris said, taking out her barber pole. “As in, die?”
“The EIRs are useless,” he declared, his voice rising. “What about the disruption to wildlife? And I’m not talking about the species in the water. We’ve also got to worry about air pollution, noise pollution, and light pollution. Do you think the people here in the vicinity are going to be breathing clean air?” Before Maris could answer, he plunged on. “No. So we’ll either suffer with it and risk our health or leave.” He flung his arm toward the front of the store. “But the oaks and redwoods? They can’t leave.”
As his voice took on an angry edge, Maris noticed the protest signs. He’d kept a couple and they were taped to the shelves behind the counter.
“And don’t you believe for a minute that the only thing to fear is an oil spill,” he said, jamming his finger down on the digital tablet that served as his new checkout system. “Just the construction of an oil derrick is going to wreak havoc. Period. The bay will die.”
Maris took out her credit card and handed it to him. He swiped it through the reader with such force, she thought it might burst into flames.
“It may not be a popular opinion to voice any more,” he said, handing back her card. “But I’m as violently opposed to NAP as ever.” She signed the tablet. “Maybe more so.” He printed her receipt, and ripped it off. “Frankly, that guest of yours is a hero.” Maris arched her eyebrows at him. “Julia Mendes, I mean. She’s the one we ought to be talking about. In my opinion, she’s done a stupendous job.”
As he handed her the receipt, Maris managed a smile. “I’ll, um, let her know.” Despite how angry he was at the rally, Howard’s tirade had taken her by surprise. She raised the candy to him. “Thanks again.”
As she turned to go, he said, “Any time and you let her know!”
13
As Maris put away the perishables in the fridge and then the pantry and cleaning supplies, she separated out the chocolate, keeping it in a small bag. She’d done well over the last number of months—with an early backslide or two—but she’d always been a stress eater. Everything about Audrey Graisser’s death had been stressful, starting with the possibility that an oil derrick might drill in the bay, then the young woman’s tragic death, and now the townsfolk being painted with a broad brush as somehow being responsible. Add to that the fact that Claribel had warned her, and yet she’d been unable to prevent it.
In her room, Mojo was taking his usual afternoon nap on the bed, but picked up his head at the
