Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Yet, when I come, the fairies fly
On rainbow-winged rosellas,
And all the treeferns standing by
Put up their green umbrellas.
Annie R. Rentoul, “In the Gully Green”
I ENTERED THE SHOP WEDNESDAY morning and unlatched the top half of the Dutch door to allow in a breeze.
Carmel-by-the-Sea, due to its location on the central coast of California, could be chilly in December, but I loved drinking in the salty sea air.
I was checking out the cabinet filled with snow globes, still stymied as to how one of them shattered, when Joss emerged from the office.
“Morning, boss.” She strode to the sales counter
“Morning. Aren’t you cheery?”
She’d donned one of her most colorful Hawaiian shirts, this one adorned with huge pineapples. “I’m feeling welcoming today.” Pineapples were widely recognized as symbols of hospitality and generosity. “You look nice, too.”
I had dressed in red capris and a winter white sweater. For a festive touch, I’d added a pair of jingle bell earrings.
“You, too, Fiona,” Joss said.
My teensy fairy was darting around the main showroom, checking out items. “Tá,” she said in her native tongue, which meant thanks, even though she was dressed in her typical silver frock and silver slippers.
“Idris dropped off payment for the porcelain bell this morning and brought a dozen gingerbread cookies.” Joss pointed to a Sweet Treats box on the counter.
“A woman true to her word. I like that.” I reached into the box, pulled out a cookie, and took a bite. “Yum!” I loved the flavor of ginger.
“The latch is broken,” Fiona announced.
I gazed at her as she fluttered outside the cabinet of snow globes. “How did it happen?”
“I see fingerprints. Little ones.”
I drew near to inspect and agreed. A child must have yanked on the door and reached inside for a globe, but their parent caught them in the act. The child dropped the globe, causing the crack, and slammed the door shut, breaking the latch. The mishap was nothing more than an accident. Phew.
“I’m here,” Lissa Reade trilled as she pushed through the front door. Her short-cropped hair was windblown, her cheeks pink from exertion.
“Did you run the whole way?” I asked.
Lissa was the kind of person who could keep up with women half her age. Stylish and in her seventies, she exuded confidence, intelligence, and compassion. “Me? Run? Heaven forbid,” she said. “But I did keep a good pace. Have you read the book?”
“I couldn’t put it down,” I said.
“I enjoyed knowing the fictional town is located near Carmel,” Joss replied. “It made it more personal.”
“Excellent.” Lissa clapped her hands. “Many of the Aroma Wellness customers are going to join in the fun.” Recently she had invested in a spa with her granddaughters. I’d visited and had enjoyed a fabulous mindful meditation.
“I saw many of their names on the guest list.” I offered her a cup of coffee from the pot brewing behind the sales counter.
She declined.
Fiona flew in front of Lissa. Like Joss and me, Lissa could see fairies. In fact, she was one of the first in Carmel to admit it.
“Good morning, little one,” Lissa said.
Fiona blew a kiss.
“Now, let’s pin down the menu,” Lissa went on. “Of course we’ll need holiday-themed desserts. Iced sugar cookies. Peppermint cookies. A chocolate yule log. Do you think we need to serve tea sandwiches?”
I shook my head. “Those aren’t fan favorites.”
“Gotcha. As for the music, will Meaghan play the harp?”
Meaghan Brownie was my best friend. She owned Flair Gallery, a well-respected art shop in the courtyard. On weekends, she shared her musical talents with our customers.
“I was hoping she could play ‘Fairy Nightsongs,’” Lissa continued. “She sings, doesn’t she? The song has Celtic origins and is so delicate. She doesn’t need a big voice. She just has to carry a tune.”
“She can, but will she?” I mused. In our senior year of college, Meaghan gave up the piano and took up the harp. She also joined a madrigals group, but I hadn’t heard her sing in ages.
Fiona winked. “I’ll convince her. If she needs a little courage, presto!” She frittered her fingers as if sprinkling a potion.
We all laughed.
“Welcome,” I called as a man strolled into the shop and let the door close with a clack.
I jolted when I caught sight of his getup—white shirt, red suspenders, and baggy chinos.
Was this the person who had frightened Shara?
The one she’d called an ogre? He did look scary, given the fact he suffered from periorbital edema, plus his nose was way too large for his face, his ears were ginormous, and his drooping jowls gave him the appearance of a bloodhound.
A man bag was slung across his thick body.
“Welcome,” I repeated. “I’m Courtney if you need anything.”
He waved a hand overhead but didn’t make eye contact.
“I know him,” Joss said, “but I can’t place where I’ve seen him.”
“He’s not a library patron,” Lissa stated.
The man moved from display to display, touching everything. He bent to inspect an array of terrariums on a baker’s rack. Each was filled with miniature plants and a single fairy figurine.
“You can enhance any of those gardens with other figurines,” I said to him.
He muttered something that sounded like hokum.
“I’m sorry.” I moved closer. “What did you say?”
“It’s a hoax.” His voice was raspy. “There’s no such thing as fairies. You shouldn’t be fooling people this way.”
I took an instant dislike to him. “I’m not fooling.”
“She’s not.” Joss sidled to me, a smile plastered on her face. “Fairies do exist, Mr.—” She waited for him to fill in the blank.
“Ferguson Moss.”
“Moss.” Joss snapped her fingers. “Aha! I saw you at City Hall. You—”
“What do you do, sir?” I cut in.
“I’m a herbologist.”
Lissa joined us. “Do you mean a herbalist?”
“Herbologist,” he repeated. “I’m passionate about plants and healing.”
“Fascinating,” Lissa said. “I know someone who is a clinical herbalist. She’s trained to guide people to plant-based remedies.”
“Yeah. No. Not me.” Ferguson screwed up his mouth in a distasteful way. “I detect issues with plants. I’m concerned with how to heal them.”
“And with how the city is tending its gardens,” Joss said. “You launched a complaint.”
“It wasn’t a complaint,” he countered. “Merely a concern. I am a concerned citizen. Snails are the core of my belief.”
Joss wrinkled her nose. “I hate snails.”
Ferguson turned a cruel eye on her. “Snails are remarkable creatures. They break down decaying plant matter and dead leaves. Gardens thrive under their watchful eye.”
I had snails in my garden, and I didn’t appreciate them one bit.
“The town is using pesticides to extinguish them,” he went on. “They should let me talk to the snails. I will listen to their needs and redirect them to their purpose.”
I bit back a laugh. He talked to snails, but he didn’t believe in fairies? How I wished he and his bad energy would vanish. “Did you happen to follow Shara Popple yesterday?”
“Who?”
“She came in frightened by someone who wears red suspenders.”
“Lots of folks do.” He flicked one with the crook of his thumb.
“Hello!” a slim woman called as she entered the shop. Genteelly, she closed the door and weaved between display tables, the skirt of her exquisite silk dress swishing. A high-end knapsack swung on her shoulder, and I worried it might crash into a display.
“Welcome,” I said. “Um, be careful.” I motioned to her purse. “We sell lots of breakable things.”
“Oops. Bad me.” She tucked it closer.
Eager to let Ferguson explore on his own—or leave—I moved away from him.
Fiona whooshed to the woman, hovered above her head for a second, and returned to me. “Our new visitor carries darkness with her.” A few months ago, she’d learned how to read auras. Only the queen fairy and future queen possessed such a talent.
“So does Ferguson,” Joss whispered.
I peered over my shoulder at him. He was moving away from the bell table, his hand fumbling with something in his man bag. I shivered, hoping he didn’t have snails that he would unloose in the shop. I turned back to the woman. “How may I help you, miss?”
“My name’s Tianna Thistle.” With her cute nose and wide-set eyes, she reminded me of a fairy friend of Fiona’s.
Her honey-brown hair was secured with an exotic hairclip, the amulet around her neck too large for such a dainty frame.
I noticed a spectacular diamond ring on her right hand.
Was she engaged, or was she wearing a family heirloom?
She tapped the stem of a porcelain bell.
“This is beautiful.” Her voice was dulcet and warm.
I could imagine her singing solos in a choir.
“Thank you. We ordered them specially for the holidays.”
Tianna lifted it and shook it to make it jingle. “Delightful.” She set it down and moved on. When she fingered the fronds of an angel hair fern in a garden I’d crafted last week, she squealed, “Yikes! It’s alive.”
I laughed. “Yes, all the plants in the shop and on the patio are alive. You can make fairy gardens with artificial plants, of course, but we don’t offer them here.
” The arrangement she was studying had a holiday theme, complete with a sleeping fairy, a collection of presents, and a fairy dog sporting a bright red bow.
“I love fairy gardens. I saw a few at the Renaissance fair. A woman I ran into recommended I come here.” Humming, Tianna made her way through the entire main showroom.
She returned to us and tucked a loose hair behind her right ear.
With a disarming smile, she said, “I believe you have something of mine, Courtney.”
“I don’t believe so,” I replied, surprised she knew my name. Perhaps the woman she’d chanced upon at the fair was one of our customers and had clued her in.
“Yes. My great-great-grandfather Dexter Tillbury once owned the land upon which this courtyard resides.”
“I recognize the name,” Lissa said. “The Tillbury family suffered a huge tragedy. Dexter’s brother Daniel was a ne’er-do-well and was cut out of the family inheritance. When Daniel learned of the betrayal, he killed his brother, misguidedly believing their father would include him in his will.”
Tianna said, “Everything went to Dexter’s daughter, my great-grandmother Thessalonia.”
Lissa said, “The distribution most likely didn’t sit well with your uncle.”
“That’s an understatement.” Tianna resumed roaming the shop. “My great-grandmother comes to me in my dreams.”
“She was the original owner and baker of Sweet Treats.” Lissa directed the comment to me. She was a dedicated history buff and knew practically everything about Carmel and the nearby towns.
“Is that why you smell of lavender and cloves?” I asked. “Are you a baker, too?”
“Ha! I can’t cook worth a lick. My olfactory senses are nil. No, I am a spiritualist. Some say a medium.” She spun in a circle. “If what my great-grandmother disclosed to me is true, it’s here.”
“What is?” I asked, fascinated by her intensity.
Fiona alit on my shoulder. She was quivering. I petted the toe of her right foot.
“I can feel it. The energy is intense.” Tianna started toward the patio. “It lies beneath the tile.”
“What does?” I hurried after her.
“The treasure.”
Aw, heck. Not another one who thinks there’s a treasure here.
I clasped Tianna’s arm. “Hold on. Stop. You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? Are you and Shara in this together?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know anyone named Shara.”
“Okay, then Meaghan. Did she put you up to this?” My pal loved to play practical jokes. I’d bet she’d sent Shara in last night, and when Shara’s performance hadn’t piqued my interest, Meaghan resorted to goading another into making the claim.
“I don’t know anyone named Meaghan, either.” Tianna wrested free of my grasp. “Why don’t you believe me about the treasure?”
“Treasure?” Ferguson swung around and fixed his gaze on Tianna. “Did you say treasure?” The way he rubbed his hands together reminded me of the way Gollum, the greedy character in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, had acted whenever he touched the ring.
“Yes.” Tianna stretched her arms and wiggled her fingers. “It is my destiny to find the treasure during yuletide.”
“Not if someone else finds it first,” Ferguson said. “Or something happens to you,” he added with a sneer as he made a beeline for the door.
Tianna blinked. “I have ancestral rights, sir.”
“Age before beauty,” he shot back, and exited cackling.
“I don’t like him,” Tianna grumbled.
Join the club, I thought.
“I must go.” She strode out of the shop as if on a mission. To tail him? To thwart him? Should I alert Logan Langford, the courtyard’s owner, about her claim? Wouldn’t he hold all rights to the property, both above and below?
“Well, sheesh!” Joss let out a wheezing breath. “That was weird.”
Fiona flew to us and, wiggling her arms like Tianna, said in a silly voice, “It is my destiny.”
I laughed and recapped the gist of Shara’s visit last night for Lissa.
“She said it was buried beneath the courtyard?” the librarian asked.
“Yep.”
“You know, pirates settled the coast years ago. It’s possible one of them hid a crate of gold doubloons on the property.”
I giggled. “What if Tianna’s great-grandmother cavorted with a pirate and knew the precise spot it was buried, hence the reason she’s reaching out to her great-granddaughter via dreams?”
“What a tantalizing story,” Lissa exclaimed.
“You know, if the story proves true, she could be a very wealthy woman,” I said.
“She already is if the Tillbury wealth transferred from subsequent generations to her,” Lissa said. “Did you see that diamond ring she was wearing?”
“Couldn’t miss it. It was stunning.”
“Courtney, I’m somewhat concerned,” Joss said soberly. “Having seen Ferguson Moss in action, I know he can be a terror. What if he’s headed to City Hall to demand the city dig up the courtyard?”
I gasped. “He wouldn’t dare.”