Island Whispers (Brookwell Island #3)

Chapter 1

Nina Billings stepped into the quiet darkness of the back room at Island Bloomers and waited for the happiness to start flowing.

It didn’t.

She flipped on the lights and urged herself to get it together. Her eyes were gritty and her neck was tight from tossing and turning all night long. Good thing her commute was short—only a quick descent from her apartment over the shop.

She locked the door behind her and trudged forward into the design room. Dragging like this, feeling as if she’d rather be anywhere but here was highly unusual. Being raised by parents in the landscaping and nursery business, she’d been around plants and flowers all her life.

Work was her safe space, her happy place.

And she’d put in the years of blood, sweat, and tears, along with education, effort, and training to have her own shop—a successful shop—before turning thirty. Island Bloomers was her pride and joy. Having a prime location on Central Ave, specifically on the main square of Brookwell Island, was a privilege she was committed to.

So it was past time to focus.

Yes, it was early, especially after a restless night. Too bad. None of her days resembled a normal nine to five. That was part of the magic of being a florist. She usually loved coming in and designing for a couple of hours before the shop opened to the public.

While she pulled on her apron and gathered her tools, she put the phone on speaker and checked the messages for any additional orders. No surprise that two more local families had heard about the funeral service in Charleston today and requested deliveries.

She made notes, pulled buckets of greenery and flowers from the cooler for stock, and got to it. Two arrangements and one plant basket were headed to the funeral.

That would make delivery easier.

Sniffling as she snipped stems and framed up the floral pieces, it took her a moment to realize she was on the verge of tears. She stepped back to blow her nose and dab at her eyes. Despite the nature of the arrangements, funeral flowers rarely made her cry. In part, because she considered flowers a special gift to honor a friend or loved one.

And also because a flower shop was typically a cash-poor business. Dealing with perishables meant higher than usual lost product and waste. Funerals offered a welcome and unexpected influx of cash.

Having worked in flower shops that barely made payroll from week to week, Nina had carved out a different business model. Failing at her dream wasn’t an option. Although she always had the safety net of returning to the family business, she was determined to stand on her own.

To offset the typical flower shop pitfalls and the risks of being in a smaller market, Nina had set up contracts with other business owners on the island. Most of her clients were bed and breakfast owners, but she’d added a couple of local restaurants too.

In addition to a steady income, the contracts gave her a consistent design task list for her employees and allowed her to streamline supply orders to maximize the profit margins .

Haley Whitman, one of her closest friends from design school, joked that Nina was a mercenary and the enemy of creativity. And yet she visited Nina at least once a year, filled in when necessary, and usually spent part of her vacation in the Island Bloomers workroom, playing with ideas for the “boring” contracts.

Nina smiled to herself even as a tear rolled down her cheek.

What on earth was the matter with her today?

Shaking it off, she redoubled her efforts to focus on the flowers—and only the flowers. These arrangements had to be delivered in a few hours. As her hands worked, her mind wandered along the business and marketing path.

It would be nice to have the full contract at the Inn, the island’s biggest non-beach destination. Someday, she mused. She didn’t have staff to support that kind of order right now. Instead, she negotiated for conference room arrangements on an as-needed basis. Being smaller and local, she could respond faster than their contracted florist in Charleston. And she liked to believe it helped to have an Island Bloomers flier in the welcome packet given to each guest at check-in.

She continued snipping stems and placing flowers for the funeral pieces, grateful she had worked ahead yesterday afternoon on today’s normal deliveries. Fresh vases were ready for the Pelican Pub and Hargrave Hideaway, the newest B&B on the island and the only one with a private cove.

The Hargrave sisters had become good friends with Nina in recent months and their business was starting to pick up. More importantly, it seemed as if the sisters were finally recovering from the loss of their mother.

Of course, that brought tears to her eyes again. What those three had been through was just too much. Nina didn’t want to think about the day when her mom wasn’t around to take her call or text, or spread a little guilt when she missed a Sunday dinner.

Ugh! It was so unlike her to be weepy about anything. And never at work. She prided herself on her kind, friendly, and professional approach. She’d built a strong reputation on her ability to connect with her customers, to find the right thing when they didn’t know exactly what they were looking for.

She hadn’t known the person being memorialized, but she knew the customers who had called her and she wasn’t about to let them down. Sorting out the cause of the waterworks would have to wait until later.

Changing up the music to hard rock and cranking the volume, she pushed her mushy feelings to the back of her mind and finished the pieces. By the time her assistant Molly Trumble arrived, Nina had the funeral service orders wrapped for delivery and was starting on the rest of the day’s orders.

“Good morning,” Molly said, turning down the volume. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” Nina fibbed. “These three pieces need to go to Charleston if you’ve got the shop.”

Molly looped the apron over her head. “Absolutely.” She tilted her head to the design table. “Those are for deliveries here on the island?”

“Yes. The flowers for both Hargrave and the Pelican are in the cooler, ready to go.”

“Seriously?” Molly eyed her. “How long have you been here?”

Nina shrugged. “It’s just one of those days.”

“Mm-hm.” Molly pulled open the cooler. “I still can’t believe Reed wants bud vases for lunch service at the Pelican. In my head the pub will always be the place where I cut loose. If I want to have a girl-lunch, I think of the Inn.”

“Same.” Nina chuckled, and to her dismay tears welled again. This was ridiculous. “We both know he only signed that contract to help me.”

Molly shook her head and then reached for a couple of buckets of flowers. “Maybe at first. And sure, it probably set the example for other business owners around here. But he’s benefitting too, adding in special events and the lunch service.”

Nina appreciated Molly’s loyalty. “Whatever his motives, I’ll take it.”

Savvy business owners could pivot and capitalize when conditions changed. The Pelican had been a neighborhood pub from the start and it still had that comfortable, well-worn vibe. But things were growing and improving on Brookwell, thanks to a concerted effort from everyone in the close-knit community.

Nina loved every minute of it. The history and the excitement of what was to come. She loved being part of something bigger than herself. Maybe she got it from her mom and dad. Both Nina and her older brother, Nash, had been raised to be active and involved. Not just with the family business but with the island community as a whole.

For the Billings family, that involvement started at home and spread outward from the neighborhood to their businesses and all the way out to the marina and the heart of town here on Central.

“Isn’t Reed the one pushing for a girls’ day out initiative?” Molly asked, walking back into the cooler.

“I think that was Kirsten’s idea,” Nina replied. “Sparked by work she did for a client. But it’s gaining steam at the quarterly meetings.” The business owners on the island got together regularly to brainstorm ways to coordinate marketing efforts that would benefit the entire island community .

Molly paused, a bundle of deep purple liatris in her hands. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s smart. Eventually the pub will be Kirsten’s.”

Surely Reed would retire at some point. Although Kirsten had her own career as a freelance graphic artist, she spent plenty of hours working at the Pelican. “Could be she’s trying to give the place an image update.”

“I could get behind that.” Molly winked on her way to the prep sinks. “The more flowers they need, the better. I’m for whatever keeps us going,” she added. “So many small businesses and small towns fade to dust and I just don’t want to see that happen here.”

“That would be the worst,” Nina agreed. Failure wasn’t on her agenda. Ever. “I love our town and all the people in it.” She swiped a tear from her cheek.

Molly gave her a long study. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Nina waved off her concern. “It’s probably allergies. Plus, I didn’t sleep well.” She looked at the wrapped arrangements on the delivery counter. “And something about this funeral service got under my skin.”

“I get it,” Molly said. “Some days are just off.”

Nina pulled her car keys off the hook. “I need to get these loaded and delivered.” When she and Molly had the arrangements secured in her personal car for the drive to Charleston, she went back inside for her purse.

“Are you sure you don’t want to trade?” Molly asked.

“Pardon?” Nina was momentarily baffled and then she remembered her teary eyes. “Oh, I’m fine. The drive will be good for me. Don’t worry.” She gave her assistant what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Henry will be in for the local deliveries. If you need anything just call and we’ll sort it out together. ”

“I forgot to check the doorway bucket,” Molly said, doubling back to the front of the shop. “What did you choose?” A moment later, her giddy cheer rang out. “It’s a rainbow of daisies. I love them!”

Nina loved her enthusiasm. And she had to agree that the variety of colors on those cheery daisy faces were their own special ray of sunshine. “Be sure to add some white ones to the mix for any traditionalists who happen by.”

Molly laughed, clearly delighted. “I can hardly wait to open the doors.”

On a laugh, feeling happy and upbeat despite her destination, Nina left the shop. Molly’s mood was bound to create an uptick in sales today. Who could resist her?

But the light mood faded before Nina was halfway to the church. Tears threatened once more when a heart-wrenching ballad poured out of the radio. Changing the station in a hurry, she pulled herself together. She’d have to get to bed early tonight so she didn’t repeat this nonsense tomorrow.

It had to be the flood of changes in her life right now. None of them were bad. Nash was getting married in a few weeks and Nina loved her future sister-in-law. Lila Copeland, one of her best friends from school, was finally back home. She’d taken over the bakery in the shop next door to Nina’s. And she too would be getting married soon to an amazing man.

No wonder she’d been weepy. The upcoming weddings had her emotions running high. A tiny part of her heart pinched with envy. Her best friend and brother were both headed for the altar and Nina was sitting here without a single prospect.

Love and life weren’t a competition, and yet she felt caught behind the curve. People she loved deeply were moving on, building relationships that would—and should—nudge Nina aside .

Why did being an adult have to suck?

She didn’t have an answer to that. No one did. It definitely wasn’t something she should dwell on. If she separated herself from today’s wonky emotions, she could honestly say that her dating life felt fine. Perfectly healthy. So what if a couple of dates with potential had fizzled out? That wasn’t cause for worry, just part of the process.

She wanted a real partnership, to share a bond as deep and lovely as her parents had. The love and security and solid foundation her parents had instilled in her was pure gold. Invaluable. There was no way she’d settle for a man who couldn’t respect her career goals. She didn’t want to settle at all. Then again, she certainly wanted something more than the one night stand a few weeks back.

She thought of him as she crossed the bridge, her palms going damp on the steering wheel. That was the last time she’d been in Charleston. He had been off-the-charts hot and it had been one of those spontaneous combustion connections that started with a dance and ended in an orgasm—or five—in a nearby hotel room.

A smile curved her lips as she remembered the fun of it. The delightful pleasure. He’d taken her to his room at the Ellington, of all places. Talk about posh.

And though she had momentarily dozed off in his strong arms, she slipped out of the room while he slept.

Without even exchanging names. Not really. It hadn’t seemed necessary beforehand, and afterward… Well, why bother? It was clear immediately they were only in it for the moment. He’d told her he was leaving town for his next assignment. She hadn’t told him much of anything about herself.

Before she could spiral down that well of self-pity, Nina reached the church, pulling into the narrow lane tucked between the church and cemetery to unload the flowers. She was third in the line and recognized the delivery driver ahead of her. Patrick drove for the first florist shop to give Nina a chance when she was a kid.

He spotted her and she waved and rolled down the window.

“Good morning, Nina!” Patrick said as he bounded her way. To look at him, no one would ever think he was well on the far side of 70. The man had endless energy and enthusiasm for life. Nina’s father claimed it was the latter that influenced the former and she believed it.

She had a passion for life as well and it was just one reason she’d become a florist. Flowers and plants offered countless ways to celebrate and honor a person or occasion. Of course, plenty of folks disagreed. She didn’t go a week without hearing someone in the shop nattering on about the waste of investing in flowers. “They only die” was the typical refrain.

She let them have their opinions while she gladly held on tight to her philosophy that flowers brought joy and happiness, and in today’s case comfort, before they wilted away.

“You’re by yourself?” Patrick asked. “Let me take care of this for you.” He opened her back door.

“I’ve got it,” she protested.

He winked. “Let me be the hero,” he joked. “Besides, the two of us will get it done faster.” He raised his chin toward the line of cars waiting to take their place.

Silly to argue. “Thanks,” she said as they hustled inside with her deliveries.

Knowing Patrick well, she invited him to the island at his earliest convenience. The man would never accept cash for his effort, but she had a better idea anyway. “I owe you an ice cream for this,” she said.

He grinned, a dimple flashing in his cheek. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With another wave, he hopped up into his van and pulled out. She followed him, but instead of heading straight back to the shop, she drove toward the Battery. It was a bright, clear day and something deep inside urged her to take some time. A walk around the peninsula would clear her head and get her mood right for the rest of the day.

At home, she often walked down to the beach to unwind and let the ocean breeze clear her mind even as it tangled her hair. She could usually find a quiet spot to sit in the sand, or do some people-watching at the marina. Something was always in motion between the fishing charters, harbor tours, and the new sailing school. Those tiny little boats maneuvering back and forth was mesmerizing.

She found a parking space easily enough. Taking only her phone, she pocketed the keys as she headed out. The wind was light and the sky overhead a stunning, clear blue. She adored her corner of the world.

She wasn’t nearly as well traveled as her friend Lila. Didn’t seem to have that wanderlust gene. Her own true north was right here. The short walk worked its magic and she was feeling like herself again by the time she reached her car.

The sound of squealing tires and a terrified scream tore through the morning. Nina spun toward the sounds to see a minivan barreling down the street. Behind it a woman gave chase, shouting for help.

The minivan rushed closer and closer. Nina lifted her phone and hit record to get video as the vehicle blew by her. What else could she do? When the vehicle passed, she called 911, relaying the details as she hurried to help the distraught woman.

“He has my baby!” she sobbed against Nina’s shoulder.

The 911 operator spoke with the woman on Nina’s phone and moments later, they heard sirens approaching and police were soon on the scene .

Unfortunately, neither of the women could offer much of a description. The mother said only that the carjacker had worn a dark ski mask over his face before breaking down again.

Nina did her best to soothe the shocked mother, eventually letting someone else take over when a police officer pulled her aside.

She gave her statement to the best of her ability for all the good it could do. “I didn’t see him attack her,” Nina said. “I tried to take a video.”

Replaying the video for the police officer, she was startled to see what she’d actually recorded in those crucial seconds. Her video showed the driver peeling the mask off of his face as he drove by Nina. Somehow, she’d caught a perfect image of the man’s face. She was about to offer to send the video to the police when the officer started barking information into his radio.

Apparently, this wasn’t any ordinary carjacking. The man was an escaped prisoner.

“I’ll need to take your phone. Evidence.”

He couldn’t be serious. “But I need it.”

“You’ll get it back,” he promised. “Did he see you?” the officer asked Nina. “Did he see you filming him?” he repeated when she only stared at him.

“I-I have no idea.” Nina pushed her hand through her hair, the thick curls tangled by the breeze. “I didn’t even know what I had until I showed you.”

“Do you have a vehicle?”

She pointed to her four-door wagon wrapped with the Island Bloomers logo, complete with contact information.

The police officer grimaced. “If he connects you to that car, he knows where to find you. ”

“Shouldn’t he be more interested in getting away?” Or possibly trading the minivan for a car without a toddler in the back seat?

All around her radios burst with urgent voices. The little boy had been found, still buckled in his car seat, on a sidewalk about two miles away. Nina took it as a sign of common sense. “Can I go?”

“Do you have someone you can stay with?”

“You think I’m in danger,” she accused.

“Yes ma’am.”

She floundered. These things didn’t happen here. Well, they did, but in Nina’s mind, her home and the surrounding area was safer than most. She couldn’t be in danger.

The officer didn’t give her time to process what he was suggesting. “Ma’am? Do you have someone?”

She did. And putting them at risk or making them worry over her safety wasn’t acceptable. There had to be another option. “My sister-in-law,” she said. The wedding was a few months away, but that wasn’t the officer’s concern. “Jess Keller. She’ll know what to do. Can I use my phone to call her, please?”

He handed her the device and waited, hands-on hips and gaze scanning the area, while she made the call.

It seemed like forever before Jess picked up. “Hey, Nina!”

Nina swallowed against a sudden rush of tears. “Hey. I’m in a bit of a jam. This is the last call I’ll be able to make on my phone. I need your help.”

“Talk to me.”

Nina recognized Jess’s official working voice. For years she’d been a police officer down in Key West but now she was a coordinator for a private security agency. Nina didn’t know all the details, only that Jess was delighted with the new position. “Um…”

She glanced up at the police officer .

He took the phone from her, picking up on her silent plea. After giving Jess a quick rundown, he handed the phone back to her.

“Nina, listen to me,” Jess said. “I have someone on the way. Logan. You’ll wait for him in your car, with the doors locked. He’ll escort you back home. I’ll have other things in place when you get here.”

“Thanks, Jess.”

Ending the call, she handed the phone to the policeman. She should feel reassured. Instead, her hands started shaking and her knees buckled. The cop helped her to a nearby park bench. “She told me to wait in the car.” Right now it looked a hundred miles away instead of a few yards.

“Breathe first,” the officer directed. “Then we’ll get to the car.”

“Okay.” She took his advice, unable to manage anything else in the moment.