“Can I show you the fuse box?”
26
In the utility room, Maris stood back as Bear opened the metal door of the fuse box. But when Maris peered inside, she hardly recognized it. It was clean and clearly labelled, but all the fuse switches looked the same.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Where’s the new fuse?”
For a moment, he looked perplexed, and glanced between her and the fuse box. Then he smiled at her. “All of them are new.”
She cocked her head back as her mouth dropped open. “What?”
Bear’s brows drew together in a bit of worry. “I replaced them all?”
“But why?” She stopped for a moment and held up a hand. “What I mean to say is that’s wonderful. But I thought I only ruined the one.”
“You didn’t ruin it,” Bear said.
Maris frowned a bit. “Okay, now you’ve lost me. I turned on my new hair dryer and fried the fuse. It’s just too powerful.”
Bear shook his head. “Your hair dryer didn’t do it.” He nodded back toward the bedroom. “You can try it.”
Maris hesitated. “Are you…sure?” She’d hate to see all his hard work go to waste.
He smiled and nodded. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath. “If you’re sure…”
In the bathroom, she was reaching for the dryer on the shelf when she looked into the sink and shrieked. It was a squirrel. She jumped back.
Bear was there in a flash. “What is it?” he said, his giant frame filling the door.
“In the sink,” she said pointing. “A squirrel. I don’t know how it got in here.”
Bear squeezed past her and looked down into the basin. He reached his big hand in.
“Be careful,” Maris urged. “It might bite.”
“Not this one,” he said, and brought it out.
“Oh no,” she muttered. “Is it dead?”
Bear turned to her and held it out. “You could say that.”
Although she recoiled a little, she could finally see it clearly. “A toy?” She exhaled with relief and put a hand to her chest. “Mojo. It has to be one of his.”
Bear tried to stand back as far as he could. “Do you want to plug in the hair dryer?”
“Right,” she said, having forgotten the reason she’d come in. She took it from the shelf, made sure it was switched off, then plugged it in. In the mirror, Bear encouraged her with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Okay,” she said. “Here we go.”
She thumbed it on—and almost jumped when it fired right up. For a few seconds she waited for it to stop, but it kept running. On impulse, she flipped on the light switch too. Overhead, the light came on. Bear grinned at her from the mirror, and she turned off the hair dryer.
“It works,” she exclaimed, grinning back at him, until she realized she had him trapped by the shower. “Here,” she said, unplugging the appliance and putting it on the shelf. She went into the bedroom and then the utility room, and took another look at the fuse box.
“But why replace them all?” she said turning to the brawny handyman.
“Because they were all the same age. They only last about thirty years.”
Maris glanced in the direction of the bathroom. “So you’re saying it wasn’t the hair dryer, it was the fuse itself.”
Bear nodded. “It got old. They all had. So it was time to replace them.”
She looked from him back to the panel, and then back to him again, as she smirked. “You’re a genius.”
The cheeks above his beard turned a bright pink and he shrugged. “It was maintenance. Really simple.”
Perhaps it’d only been natural for her to jump to the conclusion about the hair dryer, but Bear was right. It’d simply been a matter of noticing the obvious.
Maris frowned. Noticing the obvious. She thought of the flyers under the pier. There was something obvious there, something she wasn’t seeing.
Bear picked up his tool bag. “I’ll see if Cookie needs any help.”
“Thank you, Bear. This is really wonderful work. We’re awfully lucky to have you.”
He only ducked his head, and then hurried from the room.
As Maris closed the door on the fuse box, she pictured the flyers on the sand. Bear had spotted the obvious, and now…
“Wait a minute,” she muttered, gripping the door. “That’s it. It has to be.”
Quickly she closed it, grabbed her purse, and headed to the front door.
27
Even from the driveway of Flour Power Sandwiches & Gas Station, Maris spotted Julia’s car parked outside the shop. Claribel had, of course, been right.
Although she did need gas and an oil check before she left, Maris pulled up next to Julia’s car. Inside, the young woman was sitting at one of the high tables staring down into a cup of coffee.
“Maris,” Fab said. “Good to see you.”
Fabiola Toussaint and her husband had fled from Haiti before landing in Pixie Point Bay. Maris was sure that if the woman had been born in New York or Paris, she’d have been a super model. Tall, thin, and graceful, her chocolate skin was flawless and glowed with that golden energy of youth. Behind her shoulders, her dark hair fell straight down, all the way to her waist.
“Sandwich for you today?” she asked, smiling her gorgeous smile. “Or maybe a croissant?”
Although Maris had been looking into the display case at the baked goods, she shook her head. “No, thank you,” she replied wistfully. “But I’d adore one of your tasty lattes with low fat milk.” She took the appropriate cash from her wallet and slid it across the counter. “Keep the change.”
Fab rang up the purchase on the register. “One latte, coming right up.”
Although Julia must have heard Fab say Maris’s name, she pointedly stared down into her cup. Of course, Maris wasn’t so easily put off. She strode over to the table and placed a hand on the back of the empty chair opposite her.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, smiling.
Hands around her cup, Julia sighed heavily and never looked up. “Suit
