Long Simmering Spring (29 page)

“Absolutely. I’ll lock up the front so we can go together.”

Lisa locked up the office and the two of them walked down the block to the Front Street Boutique. They were in luck. Cameron was inside the dimly lit shop, folding some shawls. Julie knocked on the front door.

“Hi, ladies. What brings you over so late?” Cameron asked, welcoming them into her store.

“We found this.” Julie held up the key.

Cameron’s eyes widened. “What? Where?” She held out her hand and Julie gave it to her.

“Tucked between the brick and the wood behind my office.”

“Let’s go to the back,” Cameron said. “I have a workshop with better light.” She led the way through her shop to a small area off the showroom. Cameron brought the key over to a high workbench and turned on a utility desk lamp. Bright light shone on the bench and illuminated the key. Then she took out a magnifying glass from a nearby drawer and began to examine the key in earnest. “At first blush, I’d say this matches the others. Mid-seventeenth to early eighteenth century. Same strong metal. Same odd bow shape, same weird marking. This one has the Roman numeral II etched onto the blade. Like I’ve done for the others, I want to have my uncle take a look because I’m not an expert in these types of antiques. And we need to get the other two keys from Avery and Lexie so we can see if they fit together.”

“Do you really think this key is part of the set?” Lisa asked.

Cameron smiled. “Rather than guess, let’s conduct an examination and confirm it for ourselves.”

“Your uncle’s in Boston, right?” Julie questioned.

“Yes. He has his own antiques shop. It’s quite famous . . . in antiques circles, that is. I’m sure he’d be glad to help with this. He’s been enjoying this mystery so far, and now it looks like we may have solved part of it with this key.”

“Wonderful!”

Cameron opened the drawer to put the magnifying glass away. From the same drawer, she removed a small felt bag and slipped the key inside. “There. Safe and sound for the trip.” She patted the bag. “I hope to have an answer for you in a week or so.”

“Thank you,” Julie said. “We can’t wait to hear what he has to say.”

“Me too,” Cameron said. “By the way, do you have dinner plans? I’d like to grab a quick bite before coming back here to finish setting up for tomorrow.”

Lisa shook her head. “I have to meet Mitch soon.”

Julie paused for a moment before answering. “I’m free,” she said slowly, realizing she’d been irrevocably changed. She no longer wanted to work all the time. Her friendships were important to her, and she didn’t just want to maintain them—she wanted to strengthen them.

Cameron ushered the women to the front of the store, then flicked off the lights and locked the door behind her. When Lisa had gone, she turned to Julie.

“Shall we head to the LMK?”

“Sounds fine,” Julie said, only a bit dismayed that they’d be heading to a very public place. She knew she had to jump back into the swing of things sometime, and with Cameron to talk to, it would be easier than heading in alone. “Let’s go.”

They started walking down Front Street. The old-fashioned lampposts twinkled as dark began to fall, and the smell of the sea at low tide was palpable as the light breeze blew toward shore. “So, you’re heading back to Boston tonight?” she asked.

“Yes,” Cameron said. “Anna is going to open up the shop tomorrow. I feel comfortable enough to let her run the store for the weekend, and I’ll be back there on Monday.”

“So now that you have Anna, does this mean that you’re not going to be in town as much?”

“No. I’ll still be here just as often, but at least this way I’ll have a little bit more flexibility. I’m getting run ragged with all the events I’ve had to attend lately. I just wish I could concentrate only on my businesses.”

They were almost to the LMK now. “Can’t you just tell your parents you don’t want to do as many social events?”

Cameron gave a little sigh. “Clearly you haven’t met Clarissa Endicott Stahl. No one
ever
says no to my mother. Not even me.”

Julie glanced over at her friend. Cameron didn’t seem to be joking. “You’re either at work or you’re at charity events. Maybe you should start taking more time for yourself.”

“Maybe.” But the resigned look on the lovely woman’s face spoke volumes.

Julie opened the door and gestured for Cameron to head inside. “Well, I’m just glad your shop is doing well,” she said, wanting to get the conversation back on track.

“Me too,” Cameron said. “At first, I wasn’t sure that Star Harbor was the best place for the second shop. I was seriously contemplating opening in Nantucket instead. But after I visited here a few times, I fell in love. Plus, this little town is making a comeback in a big way, and I wanted to get in early.”

“Maybe you should convince your parents that Star Harbor is the place to be. Then you can give up your Beacon Hill brownstone and move here,” Julie said, half-jokingly.

“I’m
never
giving up my brownstone,” Cameron replied, laughing. “But I am happy to tell you that I’m going to start renting a place here.”

“Really? Where?”

“A little cottage on one of those old west-side estates. Actually, a family friend owns the estate, so she’s letting me have the cottage for less than it’s probably worth. The cottage is set pretty far away from the main house, so there’s lots of privacy. And I’m right on the beach.”

“Nice! It almost sounds like a vacation home. But that implies that you actually have time to go on vacation.”

“I know! It’s a pipe dream, since I haven’t taken a real vacation in years. Since I opened up my first store, in fact.”

“You’re definitely due for one. As am I.” Although she loved the town, Julie thought that getting out of Star Harbor for a while would be good for her. Give her a chance to get Cole out of her mind and help her to start making some new memories.

Thankfully, the LMK was unusually quiet for the evening, and Kiki, one of the regular servers, ushered them to a booth. Once they’d put in their drink orders, Cameron looked up from her menu. “Julie . . . about that night . . .” she started, her words halting.

Julie froze. The last thing she wanted to do was to rehash the night she and Cole had broken up. Not here, not in front of the LMK crowd.

“I . . . I was so scared for you, Julie.” Cameron put down her menu and looked at her, her large violet-blue eyes full of compassion and warmth. “If I had gone back to Boston instead of working late . . .” Cameron trailed off.

A well of near-hysterical laughter almost burbled up from Julie’s throat. God, she was more hung up on the fact that she and Cole had parted ways than the fact that she’d been attacked! She
really
needed that vacation. Julie put her hand over Cameron’s “I know. But I’m okay now, in large part because you called for help when you did. Thank you.”

“You’re so strong.” Cameron shook her head and looked away.

Julie squeezed her friend’s hand. “I have to be strong. Others need me. I can’t afford to get wrapped up in it. Besides, it’s over.”

“What’s over?” Lexie had come out of the kitchen and stood in front of the booth.

“The events of the last few weeks.” Julie managed a weak smile. “Things are finally getting back to normal.”

“Nothing’s ever
normal
around here, Julie,” Lexie stated. “You should know that by now. Why, last week, one of my suppliers messed up and shipped me a box of live snails.
Live snails!
Maybe they thought that Sebastian’s new place had opened early?”

Cameron discreetly wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand and pasted a smile on her face. Julie was touched by how much her friend cared.

“Did Kiki take your order already?” Lexie asked.

“Drinks, yes. Food, no.”

“I’ll take it, then,” Lexie said, whipping out a pad and pencil from her apron pocket.

“Oh, the usual for me, Lexie,” Julie said, handing back her menu.

“I’ll have the same thing,” Cameron said.

Julie and Lexie turned to look at her.

“Cameron,” Lexie said slowly, “do you even know what you’ve just ordered?”

“No. But if Julie ordered it, it has to be good, right?”

Lexie was silent for a few moments. Then she let out a big laugh. “Ha! There’s no arguing with that, is there? Hang on.” Briskly, she walked behind the counter, gave Buster the order through the open window, and then came back to the table.

“It’ll be a few minutes. Mind if I sit?”

“Please,” Julie said, sliding farther into the booth. The petite woman sat down, chestnut curls bouncing around her shoulders. “What’s new at the LMK? Aside from the snail delivery, that is.”

“Well, I decided to add a lemon cake to my roster for spring.”

“That’s great, Lexie. It really was delicious,” Julie said, remembering the piece she’d had a few weeks ago.

“Lemon cake?” Cameron asked, raising an eyebrow. “I have to tell you, lemon-flavored anything is one of my weaknesses.”

Lexie grinned. “I’ll bring you a piece after dinner.”

“Or you could just bring me the cake now?” Cameron gave her a hopeful look.

“I’m a reformed cake pusher. You have to eat the healthy stuff first,” Lexie insisted, giving Julie a grin. “Doctor’s orders.”

Julie smiled behind her hand.

“What if I’m too full to eat it later?” Cameron questioned.

“You can take it to go.”

“Then I’ll just eat it for breakfast.”

Lexie opened her mouth, then shut it.

Julie laughed. This was much better than being alone and miserable. “You are way sneakier than you look,” she told Cameron.

A Cheshire Cat grin spread over Cameron’s gorgeous face. “Thank you,” she said, sitting up even straighter than her usually perfect posture dictated before turning back to Lexie. “Now about that cake . . .”

Blam! Blam! Blam!
Cole fired off three rounds from his Glock .35 in rapid succession into a target twenty feet away, feeling the familiar kickback in his forearms and shoulders. Val stood at the booth next to him, shooting at his own target. They were at their favorite range in Barnstable, and though it was close to eight p.m., the place was nearly packed.

Cole hefted the gun, looking down its barrel at the paper target. The weight of the gun in his hands was comforting, its familiarity pleasant. All he needed to do was to concentrate on his stance and his target. Simple. He fired off three more rounds, aiming at the target’s heart this time instead of its head.
Blam! Blam! Blam!

Perfect shots, all three of them. Everything faded away except for the dull roar of his pistol firing through his earplugs and heavy clamshell-type earmuffs. The muffled sounds of other rounds firing and the fact that he was focused only on what was directly ahead of him added to the feeling of solitude.

Cole loved the range, just him with his weapon in a booth, shooting round after round at a target. The regulars knew he was ex-military and a current cop, and they paid him the appropriate respect. He felt at home here—in his element.

Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
Five more rounds shredded a fist-sized hole where the target’s heart would be. Eleven shots down, five to go. Sixteen chances to kill.

Keep your mind on your shooting. Don’t think about Julie. Don’t think about the look on her face when she said goodbye.

Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
Cole fired again, this time hitting the target’s shoulders, groin, and legs. Despite his lack of sleep from guarding Julie every night, his skills were still sharp. As much pain as he knew he’d caused her, he’d hurt himself a million times worse. He’d thrown away a good woman who loved him, and he’d have to live the rest of his life knowing what he’d given up. If only he could fully convince himself it was for the best.

It was crazy. By some miracle, he’d managed to show Julie that he was a good man—a better man—and for a while, he’d believed it. But when it came down to it, he was just as screwed up as he’d always been. Of course, pushing her away was for the best. He couldn’t function if he lost control, something he’d been doing with increasing frequency, ever since he realized he loved her and she loved him right back.

The gun kicked back hard into his hand and shoulder. Or perhaps it only felt that way because he was fast losing focus. His body, usually virtually immobile while shooting, began to shake. Good thing he was done with this round. He flipped opened the gun to check the chambers.

When he glanced over at Val, he saw that his brother had finished, too. Wordlessly, they both took their gear into the quieter cleaning area. As they were wiping down their weapons, Val broke the silence. “Want to tell me what’s up?” he asked.

Cole didn’t respond.

Val pressed him. “You’ve been working your ass off, I haven’t seen Julie in weeks, and I’ve never seen you shoot so many rounds without a break before. Also, you look like you want to murder someone. I mean that literally.”

Without looking up from his pistol, Cole answered. “Julie broke up with me.”

“Why?”

Cole was silent.

“What did you do?” Val asked in a low voice. Cole jerked his head up. “Whoa! Just—just calm down.” Val held up his hand once he’d caught the look on his brother’s face. “We can fix this. It had to have been your doing, right?”

Cole went back to cleaning his gun. “It was.”

“You care to elaborate?”

“No,” he said in a clipped voice.

“Cole,” Val said patiently, “you don’t ask me to come shooting with you when you clearly have something on your mind and then clam up. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m no good for her.”

“Why would you say that?” Val sounded genuinely confused.

Cole stopped cleaning his pistol. “I couldn’t keep her safe, Val. I didn’t protect her the way I needed to, and it got to me. Made me crazy with fear. Crazy with anger.” He put his head in his hands, then looked up at Val again. “I put my fist through a wall, you know that? And almost smashed one of the temporary partitions in my office before I got it together. I am barely keeping this thing under control.”

“Because you’re trying to control it
alone
. You’ll be able to manage it better if you get the help you need. We’ve talked about this,” Val said. “You’ve done it before, remember?”