Pearl of Great Price (8 page)

Doc Wagner chewed her lip. “The mother could be part shepherd, maybe border collie. Hard to say yet what the pups will look like. Want me to put an ad on the bulletin board? This sweet girl will be easy to find a home for, and the pups, too, when they’re old enough.”

“Let me think on it,” I said slowly. Mama Dog had already wormed her way deep into my heart, and I had a feeling I’d be keeping her around.

On the way home I tried out some names for the old girl. “Stormy? Smoky? Blackie?” I flicked a glance toward the rear of the van. “Nope, too ordinary. How about Sylvia? Gretchen. Ashley. Brynna—”

She yipped. Whether I’d accidentally landed upon her original name or maybe one that sounded similar, it was settled. Mama Dog was officially renamed Brynna.

That afternoon, Grandpa and I brought Brynna and the pups downstairs with us while we swept and dusted and generally got organized to reopen for business on Thursday. Brynna seemed a bit uneasy at first with Sneezy sniffing around the puppies, but they soon forged a cautious friendship.

Grandpa and I had some of our best conversations doing busy work around the shop, so with everything weighing on my mind lately, I decided to take advantage of today’s opportunity. I maneuvered my broom and dustpan over to where Grandpa was polishing the glass fronts of LeRoy Tuttle’s china display cabinets. Most of our vendors did a pretty good job keeping their own booths clean and orderly, but for a few we had to put forth a little extra effort. A tenant’s streaked display case or dusty merchandise didn’t speak well for the Swap & Shop.

“How’s it going, Grandpa?” I reached the broom under Maddie Barton’s front table and swept out a gum wrapper and a few dust bunnies.

He made a clucking noise with his tongue. “If old LeRoy doesn’t get his trifocals adjusted soon, I may have to up our commission on his sales. I swear, the man is as blind as a cave-dwelling salamander.”

“Now, Grandpa, why are you picking on LeRoy? That’s not like you at all.” More proof he was bothered about something he didn’t want to talk about.

He finished his attack on a smudge and stood erect with a groan. “Just getting old, I suppose. Old and crotchety.” He rubbed his back and stretched.

He wasn’t fooling me for an instant with his “old and crotchety” excuse. I made a few more strokes with the broom and pushed a pile of litter into the dustpan. Maybe a slightly more direct approach would get him talking. “That Renata Pearl Channing—she sure is a puzzle.”

He moved to the next cabinet and spritzed it with Windex. “You sure we have enough dog food for the week? Might want to run over to Friendly’s later.”

“We’re good for another day or two.” If Grandpa thought changing the subject would get me off his case, he had another think coming. “Sure would like to know her story.”

“Brynna’s? Guess we’ll never know.” Grandpa tore off a fresh paper towel.

He knew perfectly well I didn’t mean Brynna, and his avoidance tactics were starting to rile me. “I’m talking about Mrs. Channing. Do you know what happened at the resort all those years ago? Is that where the little girl dr—”

“Julie Pearl.” Grandpa stopped his work and fixed me with a desperate glare. “It’s not our business, all right? Leave it be.”

Obviously, my tightlipped grandpa had no intention of telling me a thing. But the harder he worked to avoid my questions, the more certain I became that he was hiding something important, something that mattered to him a lot.

And if it mattered so much to Grandpa, it mattered even more to me.

~~~

Later that evening, as I dried the last supper dish and set it in the cupboard, the phone rang. Grandpa answered it. “How ya doin’, Sandy? Yep, she’s right here.”

I draped the dishtowel over the oven door handle and reached for the receiver. “What’s up, girlfriend?”

“How’s your new dog? Get rid of all those revolting ticks?”

Brynna came over and nuzzled my hand as I sat down at the kitchen table. “She’s great. Sweetest dog I ever met. A real keeper.”

“You missed a great discussion last night. I took lots of notes. Can I bring ’em by?”

“I thought you had to work at the DQ on Wednesday nights.”

Sandy let out a jubilant laugh. “Not anymore! There was a message from Mr. Hobart when I got home last night. He decided he needed me to start right away. Today was my first day!”

“Wow, Sandy, that’s super.” I only wished I sounded happier for her, but her news reminded me of the old resort and all my questions about Renata Pearl Channing. The mounting frustration slammed me in the chest like a bucket of Tom’s rusty old tools.

“Jules? Something’s wrong. I can hear it in your voice.”

I chewed on a hangnail. Maybe by now Sandy would know more about the history of the Pearls’ place. “You want to meet me at the DQ for sundaes? My treat.”

“Great! I’m ready to celebrate!”

Twenty minutes later, Sandy and I picked up our deluxe brownie-and-hot-fudge sundaes at the DQ counter and settled across from each other in the front corner booth. I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for red-faced George Bradley, scurrying behind the counter trying to cover the management duties Sandy had handled so capably.

I licked a swirl of caramel and hot fudge off my plastic spoon. “Well? Tell me all about it. How was your first day on the new job?”

“Terrific. There’s so much to learn, but I can already tell Micah Hobart is going to be a dream to work for.”

My hand paused halfway between the bowl and my mouth. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet, but Clifton and I met your boss yesterday.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

“At the resort. Clifton wanted to go look around.”

Sandy groaned and lowered her head to the table. “And after I outright
told
him not to go snooping.”

“Don’t be too mad at him. I was curious about the place, too. Besides, Clifton was hoping Mr. Hobart might have some other jobs available.”

“So did you talk to him?”

“Mr. Hobart? Yeah, we had a conversation of sorts.” I stirred my melting ice cream and tried to think of something nice I could say about Sandy’s new boss before grilling her with questions. “He seems to like animals.”

Sandy wrinkled her nose. “That’s a non sequitur if I ever heard one.”

I bit my lip. “The resort is where I found Brynna.”

“Brynna?”

“The mama dog.” I told her how Clifton and I found the dog and puppies in one of the cabins.

“That explains it,” Sandy said with a nod. “I overheard Mr. Hobart on the phone this morning with the humane society. Sounded like they’d gone out to the place to look for some animal but it was already gone. I thought it was a raccoon or a rabid possum or something.” She licked her spoon. “He’ll be so happy tomorrow when I tell him you rescued the dogs.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” I leaned back and crossed my arms.

Sandy narrowed her gaze. “Julie Pearl Stiles, you better not be keeping anything from me. Especially something that could jeopardize my new job.”

Her mouth twisted as I described how Hobart practically threw us off the property. I left out the part about catching a glimmer of remorse in his eyes . . . or was it something else? Easier to keep my own emotions in check if I focused on his rudeness.

She shook her head. “That’s just not the man I know.”

“Well, you weren’t there.” I finished the last spoonful of my sundae and pushed the bowl aside.

Frowning, Sandy pulled a paper napkin from the dispenser and reached over to blot a dribble of chocolate syrup I’d accidentally dripped onto the table. “I gather things didn’t go real smoothly Monday afternoon when he closed the deal on the property. Maybe he was still upset when he ran into you and Clifton.”

My skin prickled—exactly the lead-in I’d been waiting for. “You mean his meeting with Renata Pearl Channing?”

Sandy’s eyebrows creased. “How do you know her name?”

“She was in the flea market on Monday. And then she drove up at the resort yesterday right after Grandpa and I got the dogs into the van.” I shuddered. “I don’t like her, Sandy. Something about her gives me the scroochies.”

“No kidding. I hear she’s been nothing but trouble for Mr. Hobart. Fussing over every little detail of the sale, demanding things be handled a certain way. Before she’d sign the papers, he practically had to get on his knees and swear to her he wouldn’t leave any of the original structures. She doesn’t want a trace of the old resort left behind.”

An image of the child’s room with the cheery ducks and rabbits filled my mind, along with the growing conviction that something horrible happened there. Some connection to the child’s drowning twenty-five years ago that Grandpa didn’t want to talk about. What possible reason could he have for keeping it bottled up inside when it clearly ate at him like acid on metal?

Unless . . . could it have anything to do with my own past? Maybe even my father and why he disappeared from our lives and never returned?

An image of a tall, green-eyed man wasting away in a prison cell filled my brain. What if my very own father had something to do with the drowning and that was why no one ever spoke of him around me?

“Julie?” Sandy tapped my hand. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

Giving myself a mental shake, I stuffed the chocolate-smeared napkin into my empty bowl and scooted out of the booth. “I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Without looking back, I shoved the trash into the nearest receptacle and charged out into the muggy June evening. A death squad of vicious, half-starved mosquitoes caught up with me before I reached my Beetle. One or two managed to follow me inside, and I smacked them with unnecessary force before starting the engine and peeling out of the parking lot.

Maybe it was crazy to feel so obsessed with an abandoned lake resort, as if Renata Pearl Channing and her mysterious past should mean anything to me at all. But it did. And somehow it all seemed bound up together—my father, the Pearl family, Micah Hobart, even my sweet dog Brynna.

Yes indeed, Grandpa owed me some answers, and I intended to press even harder until I got them.

C
HAPTER 8

The flea market opened at nine the next morning, so my questions for Grandpa would have to wait. At least I had plenty to distract me through another busy weekend, because with all the craziness in my life lately, my brain was on the verge of spinning itself into a black hole of confusion.

Fortunately, my precious Brynna and her darling pups helped bring a measure of peace to my soul. They kept me grounded in the here-and-now, reminding me all over again that the bond with an animal is about as close to true unconditional love as it gets in this life.

Now that their mama provided their fill of healthy nourishment, those pups were plumping out nicely. And Brynna, though her coat was a bit sparse where I’d had to clip out mats and tangles, looked sleeker and shinier every day. I’d parked Brynna and the puppies in a used playpen behind the checkout counter during business hours that weekend, and even before closing time on Saturday, at least ten customers had expressed interest in adoption. Several would have taken Brynna
and
the pups right on the spot, but I turned them down flat.

“Only the puppies are available,” I told them. “The mama’s a keeper.” I took names and phone numbers and told the interested parties to check back in six weeks, at which time I’d decide who could provide the best homes.

At the end of the day, Grandpa yawned and eased his back. “Whew, I’m tired. Thank goodness tomorrow’s Monday. Don’t think I’d survive another busy day like we’ve had this weekend.”

“Go on upstairs and put your feet up. I’ll be up as soon as I’m done here.”

“You gonna do your computer entry stuff before supper?”

“Thought I would.” I grinned. “Unless you want me to teach you how.”

He chuckled and reached for the broom and dustpan. “This dog’s way too old to learn new tricks.”

Katy Harcourt, one of the last of our tenants to call it a day, had just closed her booth across the way. Carrying one of her genuine imitation Gucci handbags, she moseyed up to the counter and rested her plump forearms on the edge. “What old dog you talkin’ about, Otto? Not this cute little thing y’all took in?” She craned her neck to see over the counter, where Brynna lay in the playpen letting her pups nurse while she licked them clean with her long, pink tongue.

“No, no.” Grandpa waggled a finger. “Why, me, of course. Julie Pearl keeps trying to talk me into learning how to use a computer.”

Katy pressed a hand to her ample bosom and let loose a chortling laugh. “That’ll be the day!” Her mouth curved downward in an accusing frown. “High time you joined the twenty-first century, old man. You can do e-mail, store digital photos, surf the ’Net, all kinds of stuff. I got me one of them fancy little laptops back there in my booth—keep a game of computer solitaire going on it all the time. Only thing that keeps me from being bored out of my gourd between customers.”

Grandpa crossed his arms and harrumphed. “Ain’t got no digital photos, don’t know anyone to e-mail, and surfin’s for those crazies in Waikiki.”

“Still stuck in the Dark Ages, you miserable old coot . . .”

I tuned out and let them go at each other. The subjects varied, but it seemed to be their preferred form of after-hours entertainment most weekends. I finished totaling the receipts, made my entries in the consignment ledger, and tucked the cash, checks, and charge slips in a bank bag to take upstairs to the safe.

In the meantime, my brain had latched onto the part about “surfin’ the ’Net.” Seemed everybody nowadays had their own Web site, plus with all the historical and genealogical sites and online newspaper archives, surely I could find something about Renata Pearl Channing or the old Pearls Along the Lake Resort. Besides, it might be easier to get Grandpa to talk if I already had some pertinent facts at my disposal.

I hefted Brynna out of the playpen and transferred her puppies into a towel-lined wicker laundry basket. We took a detour out back so Brynna could relieve herself, then went upstairs. The moment I set foot inside the kitchen, my mouth started watering. My crock pot chicken Santa Fe recipe simmered away, filling the apartment with the aromas of cilantro, green peppers, and tomatoes. I stirred it once before filling Brynna’s food dish and refreshing her water bowl. Then Sneezy pestered me until I served him up a big scoop of Kitty Delight mackerel surprise.