Secrets of Sandpiper Shores: Spark of Truth (Cedar Key #4)

Chapter 1

MARGO

The drive back from Cedar Key felt quieter than the drive there had.

On the way out, they had all been running on urgency and questions, with too many possibilities chasing each other around June’s car.

On the way back, the night seemed to press in closer, and every answer they had found only seemed to open the door to three more questions.

Margo sat in the back seat, looking out at the dark ribbon of road ahead, while Rad drove with both hands steady on the wheel and June sat beside him, lost in thought.

The closer they got to Sandpiper Shores, the tighter Margo’s chest felt.

The sign for town came into view, lit by headlights, and before she could think better of it, she leaned forward between the seats.

“Do you mind if we go past Teacups?” Margo asked June quietly.

Rad’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “Is that wise?”

Margo met his gaze in the mirror. “I need to see it.”

For a moment, Rad said nothing. Then June turned slightly in her seat and looked back at Margo, her expression softening.

“I don’t mind,” June said. “If you want to go, we’ll go.”

Margo nodded, grateful for that small mercy. “Thank you.”

Rad didn’t argue again. He just changed direction and headed toward Harbor Street.

By the time Teacups came into view, Margo’s pulse had started to pound.

From the front, it didn’t look as awful as she had feared.

The old weathered blue clapboard building still stood there with its white trim and familiar shape, as if it had merely gone to sleep early.

The porch and front windows were dark. The striped awning was still in place.

At a glance, a stranger might not even have known anything had happened.

But Margo knew better.

She stared through the windshield, barely breathing.

“It doesn’t look too bad from here,” Margo whispered.

“That’s because the worst of it was inside and toward the back,” June said gently.

“I want to go in.” Margo kept staring at the building that held her heart and soul.

Rad slowed the car and glanced at her again in the mirror. “It’s dark, Margo. We’re not going to see much.”

June shifted in her seat. “Carmen keeps flashlights in the trunk. She has what she calls her breakdown kit.”

That earned the faintest curve of Rad’s mouth. “Of course she does.”

“She believes in being prepared for everything from a flat tire to the end of civilization,” June replied dryly.

“And right now, I for one,” Margo murmured, her eyes never leaving Teacups, “am very grateful for that.”

Rad pulled up near the barrier, where officers stood guard by the cordoned-off section of the street. One of them stepped forward, recognized Rad immediately, and after a brief exchange, lifted the tape enough to let them through.

Rad parked near the front, and the three of them got out into the warm night air.

The smell hit Margo before anything else did. Not the sharp bite of active fire, but the lingering aftermath of it. Wet ash. Burned wood. A bitter, stale heaviness that didn’t belong anywhere near her café.

Margo folded her arms around herself for a second.

June opened the trunk and pulled out three heavy flashlights. Rad took one, handed another to Margo, and June kept the third.

“Carmen really does like to come prepared.” Rad gave a low whistle. “I should make my grandmother do this.”

“Trust me, Carmen sneaks these into all her loved ones’ car trunks,” June told him, rolling her eyes. “There are even a few in my house and Willa’s. Those are called storm or blackout emergency kits.”

“I need Carmen to come help me do that at the Sandpiper Inn,” Margo said, glancing over Rad’s shoulder. “I think it would come in rather handy.”

June closed the trunk, and they made their way to the front of Teacups.

“Stay close,” Rad warned. “Try stepping carefully if floorboards seem even slightly warped.”

Margo nodded. “Got it.”

“I’ll be careful,” June promised.

The front door opened with a strange, resistant drag, as if the building itself had stiffened in pain.

When Margo stepped inside, the beam from her flashlight moved over familiar tables, the front counter, the display case, the chalkboard menu, and the shelves of carefully chosen ornaments and decorations she had spent years collecting.

Her breath caught with relief when she saw that most of them were still there and intact.

Some of the framed signs were crooked. A few decorative pieces had been boxed up or moved aside. There was a smell of smoke everywhere, and the air felt wrong, but the main front room had survived better than Margo had dared hope.

For a moment, she was rooted to the spot, shining the flashlight slowly over the front room she had built with her own hands and heart.

The pale blue walls still stood. The little table by the window where regulars liked to sit was still there.

The china display over the service hutch was dusty and dull from smoke, but intact.

One of the hanging dried-flower wreaths looked singed around the edge, though even that had not been completely lost.

Then Margo looked up sharply, and her eyes widened in worry. “What about the apartments above?”

June was beside her at once. “They’re all right,” she said. “Your tenants were at work at the time.”

Relief rushed through Margo so hard it almost made her sway.

“And where are they staying?” Margo looked at June. “Surely they’re not staying up there?”

“No, sweetheart,” June gave her an understanding smile. “Your mother arranged rooms for them at the Sandpiper Inn.”

Margo let out a shaky breath. “That’s what I would’ve done.”

“I know,” June said softly.

Margo swallowed against the thickness in her throat and moved farther in, the beam of her flashlight shaking just slightly as she crossed the front room.

The deeper they went into the building, the more obvious the damage became.

Smoke had crept farther than she wanted to think about.

Water had left streaks and stains. The cheerful order of the front had given way to the bruised, damp reality of what the fire had reached.

They approached the hallway, where the damage became more severe. The walls were blackened in places. Paint had bubbled and peeled. The floor looked swollen from water. The smell intensified, and Margo’s stomach tightened.

She moved first toward the storeroom door.

The door itself showed smoke and water damage, and when she opened it, she saw immediately that the room had been damaged, though not as badly as the rest. Boxes on the lower shelves were soggy and warped.

Some of the flour and dry stock would be ruined.

The packaging had split in places. Linens in one of the storage bins had soaked through. A good portion would need replacing.

Margo stood there, taking it in, her heart aching so deeply it felt hard to breathe.

“There’s more salvageable than I expected,” she said at last, though her voice sounded thin to her own ears.

June lingered just behind her, sweeping her flashlight carefully around the room. “Do you mind if I look around in here?” she asked. “I wasn’t able to get into the storeroom before.”

Margo stepped back. “Go ahead.”

“Be careful,” Rad said, his attention dividing between June and Margo as he stood in the hallway.

Then he and Margo moved toward the bathrooms.

The farther down the hall they walked, the louder Margo’s heartbeat became.

Her flashlight beam found the scorch marks along the walls where flames had licked downward.

The blackened streaks looked ugly and greedy in the harsh white light.

The bathroom area was worse than the front, though still not as catastrophic as the kitchen.

Then Margo saw the window. It was still cracked open, and her feet came to a stop.

In an instant, the memory slammed back into her with such force that she could barely draw breath.

Heat. Smoke. Fear clawing up her throat.

The child in her arms. The desperate certainty that there was no time and no other choice.

Her own hands pushing the little girl through the opening.

Her lungs burned, and her heart pounded so wildly that Margo thought it might burst before the flames reached her.

Margo’s fingers tightened around the flashlight until her knuckles hurt.

She didn’t realize Rad had moved closer until she looked up and found him watching her.

He gave her a gentle, knowing smile.

“Thank you for finding me,” Margo said quietly.

His expression changed at once. It softened, but there was something darker there too, something full of feeling he didn’t try to hide fast enough.

“Of course,” Rad said, his voice low and a little rough. “But ultimately, it was Ace and Willa that got both of us out.”

“Yes,” Margo said, holding his gaze. “But you found me first and made sure I survived.”

For a second, neither of them moved.

Her heart started that strange flutter again, the same one it had done too often over the past seven weeks.

Ever since the day Rad Dillinger had come to town with his son, taken over the lighthouse cottage, and stepped into Sandpiper Shores as if he had somehow always been meant to be part of it.

Margo had noticed him immediately. His quiet steadiness.

His protectiveness. His restraint. The way he looked at people made it seem as though he was really seeing them.

Now, standing in her damaged hallway with smoke staining the walls and her nerves still too close to the surface, Margo felt that same pull stronger than ever.

Then they heard June walking back toward them.

“I can’t see anything out of place in the storeroom,” June said.

Margo turned, cleared her throat softly, and forced herself to keep moving. “Let’s go to the kitchen. That’s where the most damage is.”

They walked carefully down the hall and into the kitchen.

The fire had done its worst there.