Chapter 17 #3
I tug at his hand and then take a long sip from the still-hot latte cup. I’m gonna need an extreme amount of caffeine to make it through the day.
“Let’s go. I can tell you on the way.”
“Ah, good idea,” he says.
It doesn’t take us long to make our way back through the front of the diner, and we give Pike another wave as he catches our eye before leaving. Then we’re outside on the boardwalk.
Surprisingly, the storm missed most of the boardwalk.
“It’s weird how it’s not flooded out here,” I say.
“Yeah,” Caleb says, pointing to the beach. “You can see the debris washed up, though. This was flooded last night for sure. It’s just built to withstand it.”
I nod, because that’s true. Saltline’s on stilts. The boardwalk’s on stilts. It’s made to withstand the rise and fall of the tide.
“So tell me, Ivy,” Caleb says, looping my arm around his like an old-fashioned Regency gentleman. “What is it that has you all freaked out right now? Is it me?”
“No,” I tell him, and squeeze his bicep maybe a little too long, but it’s a really nice bicep. “No,” I say. “It’s what you said about calling the corners.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Caleb says.
“I don’t either,” I tell him. “I know it’s some kind of a spell, and it’s not like I haven’t seen it in movies, but… it doesn’t feel like fiction when you say it. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”
“What does that mean?” Caleb says.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I’m not used to feeling uncomfortable, especially with random statements like that.”
“All right. Do your sisters know anything about it?”
“I want to call my grandma.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem like a bad idea,” Caleb says.
I pull out my phone and unlock it, quickly realizing that I do need to get back to my sisters and that calling my grandma isn’t the worst idea in the whole world. In fact, at this point, I think we need all the help we can get.
Maybe I should get the coven out of Texas up here to help, too. Doesn’t hurt that I wouldn’t mind seeing my best friend.
Caleb puts his finger on my lip and tugs it out of my mouth.
“Don’t bite on those. I’ve got a soft spot for them,” he says.
That makes me laugh and I click my text messages, only for the last message to still be:
Hazel: Did you bone him, Ivy?
“Wow, they got straight to the point, didn’t they?” Caleb says, sounding infinitely amused by this. “Glad to know they’re rooting for us.”
“Oh my God,” I mutter, feeling my face go completely hot and red.
“I’m not gonna tell them anything,” I say. “That’s none of their business.”
“Oh, it’s definitely none of their business,” Caleb says. “It’d be real weird if you’re going back and reporting everything to them, but I’m glad they’re invested. It’s nice to know your sisters want to be my sisters.”
He could not be any smugger, and I gape at him for a long moment.
This is the second time this morning he’s brought up us getting married.
“You know, some people think playing hard to get is a good thing,” I tell him.
“Oh, it’s not,” Caleb says. “I’m never going to play hard to get with you. I’m not going to make it any harder on myself than it has to be. I’ve told you what I want, and here I am wanting it.”
By the time he’s finished that little speech, we’re at the end of the boardwalk and Silverlight Shore stretches in front of us, all cobblestone streets and picturesque Victorian architecture.
“Oh no,” I say.
Gunner, at my feet, whines.
Awnings are torn off. Shutters flung into the middle of the road. It’s mostly not flooded anymore, but there’s a line of debris and seaweed at about knee to hip height along the shops closest to the boardwalk.
People in work clothes and neon-colored vests work together, pulling debris and ruined items into the back of trucks to be disposed of or recycled.
“I’m going to call my grandma,” I say. “Let’s get to Sugar & Salt, then we’ll come back and help.”
“You got it,” Caleb says, all trace of humor gone from his face.
He also pulls out his phone, but I’m not paying attention to who or what he’s calling as I push the contact button for my grandmother and hold my breath, really hoping that I’m not disappointing her by asking for help.
The phone rings.
And rings.
And rings.
We pass by more and more shops that are in different states of disrepair and ruin. Nothing seems completely bad, but I know from experience that the flooding on the outside sometimes is nowhere near as bad as the damage that can be on the inside.
My shop’s not quite as low level as these, but that doesn’t mean Sugar & Salt hasn’t seen some serious damage.
As the phone rings and I wait for my grandmother to pick up, I go through my mental Rolodex of where all of my ingredients and equipment are stored.
I don’t have many things that are stored at a low level, but if flooding was bad enough that means there could be serious mold reparation needed.
Sheetrock taken out. Supplies ruined. Food ruined.
I might have to shut down my online store until I can get everything back up and running.
That’s why we have insurance, but who knows.
Finally, my grandmother’s answering machine picks up after what feels like an eternity.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Ginger Romantic. I am currently unavailable right now. If this is one of my darling granddaughters calling, I’m currently on a technology-free artist retreat in Pensacola, so you’ll have to contact me there. Leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you.”
BEEP, the answering machine says.
“Fucking shit,” I say, realizing that there’s a good chance my grandmother will not receive this message until it’s much too late.
“Sorry, Grandma, that wasn’t for you. Hi, Grandma.
I’m going to try to figure out where the heck you are in Pensacola, but we’ve got problems up here and I don’t know how to fix them.
And it has to do with… you know… like a type of… ”
I struggle mentally trying to come up with the word for ward so that if someone hears this voice message and it’s not Grandma, they won’t think I’m crazy.
“It’s like a fence that keeps things out.
It’s gone, you know. It’s not working. So if you could call me back so we could fix it.
I’m really sorry to bother you. I know that you want us to find our own problems and fix them, but this is…
you know… it’s like… I don’t know how to…
I don’t know… there’s a queen involved. Maybe you know about the queen. I don’t know if you’ve like…”
I pause.
“I’m saying a lot of ums. I’m filling the space with ums. Just call me back, Grandma, all right? We need help.”
Slightly frantic and extremely embarrassed at myself, I end the call. I could have done a lot better than leave that mess of a voicemail for my grandma.
Beside me, Caleb hasn’t noticed my massive fail of a voicemail, speaking in a low, serious voice on the phone. Gunner walks slowly next to us, tail drooping, an expression grim and almost thinking the same thing I am.
This is bad.
Whatever that ward was keeping out, that storm had something to do with it, and I do not like the looks of this.
Before long, we’re on my street. The street that I fell in love with when I was a little girl and always wanted to start a store here.
“I’m afraid to look,” I tell Caleb.
And it’s true. My gaze goes everywhere but the store that I’ve made my home away from home, with its black and white striped awning and its hot pink shutters, and the interior that I lovingly have decorated over the last ten years.
The recipes I’ve spent countless hours perfecting.
The magic that I’ve infused every single bon bon and macaron and fudge and chocolate truffle with.
“It can’t all be ruined.”
I say the last bit out loud, my voice breaking on the final word.
Gunner whines softly next to me, his tail still tucked slightly between his back legs.
“Even if it is ruined, Ivy, we’ll figure out a way to fix it. You have insurance, right?”
“Of course I have insurance,” I tell Caleb. “That’s what insurance is for.”
“And not only do you have that, but you have me. You have Gunner,” he says, after Gunner growls slightly. “You have three sisters that will help, and what’s more than that, you have the entire town of Silverlight Shore ready to help you get back up and running should it be worst-case scenario.”
He squeezes me slightly, pushing me closer to his body.
“It’s going to be OK no matter what.”
“I’m just tired,” I tell him. “Not like physically, you know. I just feel like sometimes I have to hold everything together, and if I don’t have the store ready to go, then everything else falls apart.”
I swallow hard, fighting back tears and anticipation for what I may or may not find inside Sugar & Salt.
“Hey,” he says, pointing to the storefront.
I take a deep breath and force myself to examine what’s in front of us.
The flood line is still there, but it’s not quite as high as it was in the lower stores closer to the boardwalk and the shore. The floodwaters here extend maybe six inches up.
I take a deep breath, hoping against all odds that the interior of my store and the ingredients are going to be OK.
“All right,” I say, pulling my keys out of my handbag.
It always feels strange to go in through the front door instead of the back door, and today it feels particularly odd.
One of the hot pink shutters hangs slightly off the window and I jerk my head toward it.
“We’ll have to fix that,” I tell him.
“That’s easy,” he says. “Ten, fifteen minutes. Tops.”
“Okay. Let’s go see the rest.”
“It’s going to be fine no matter what happens when you open that door. We’ll fix it.”
I nod, and as grateful as I am for him, his words don’t have the soothing effect that they should. Nothing’s going to soothe me until I’m able to take stock of what exactly needs to be done to fix this.
I slot my key into the lock, the satisfying click turning, and it hits me how lucky I am to I still have a door.
Some of the shops down lower weren’t so fortunate. The floodwaters had burst through, knocking the doors off their hinges and splintering the locking mechanisms open. Some of the stores that had floor-to-ceiling windows had broken glass.
None of us were prepared for this storm. None of us put up the typical plywood to protect our windows.
My hand shakes, and I force myself to drink more of the latte before the inevitable.
“Come on,” Caleb urges me.
I place my hand on the handle, depressing the lever and opening the door.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sight that meets my eyes.