Postcards from Cedar Key Read online

  Also by Terri DuLong

  Spinning Forward

  “A Cedar Key Christmas” in Holiday Magic

  Casting About

  Sunrise on Cedar Key

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Postcards from Cedar Key

  TERRI DuLONG

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Cedar Key Scarf

  POSTCARDS FROM CEDAR KEY

  Discussion Questions

  Copyright Page

  In memory of my son, Shawn Timothy DuLong

  With love

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you so much to Chuck and Freddie Smith, owners of Angell & Phelps Chocolate Factory in Daytona Beach. Your wonderful tour of the factory and all of the information you shared with me about the making of chocolate helped a lot in creating my fictional shop for Berkley.

  For this novel I have some canines that deserve a thank you:

  I’m always captivated by the dogs that accompany their owners to the yarn shops where I’ve done book signings. In this story I’ve included the real Yorkie, Addi, who belongs to Pat Capistrant, owner of Lovin’ Knit in Marietta, Georgia. And also Lola, the little terrier, who belongs to yarn shop owner Debbie Davis at Yarns To Dye For in Charlotte, North Carolina. It was fun incorporating both dogs into my story, so thank you for sharing their charm with me.

  Thank you to Mary Bates, from Quincy, Washington, for introducing me to your beloved Oliver, who really does participate in a very worthy reading program at the local school.

  The gorgeous Otis is the namesake of the Black Dog Bar & Tables on Cedar Key. Thank you to this very friendly Labradoodle for always making me feel welcome when I stop by.

  And thank you to my own cockapoodle, Brie, for the inspiration to create Annie, and to my Scottie, Duncan, who never fails to make me smile.

  Berkley’s friend, Jill, was fictional for my story, but I owe a large thank you to Roberta Webber Pearson, owner of the real Rumination Farm in North Yarmouth, Maine. Thank you so much for sharing all the information about your alpacas, the process of turning the fiber into yarn, and the correct terms used.

  I very much appreciate all the time given to me from Molly Brown and Dottie Halderman for answering my numerous questions about the soft-shell crab industry.

  Another thank you goes out to Corallee Morgan, of Quincy, Washington, for giving me the inspiration to create the character of Corabeth. She was fun to develop, and I enjoyed weaving her into my story.

  I receive quite a bit of e-mail from fans asking if the Lighthouse is a real place or fictional. It is indeed a real structure and the private residence of my Cedar Key friend Skip Drake. So thanks, Skip, for allowing me to include your unusual and beautiful home in my novels.

  A huge thank you goes out to the Cedar Key Chamber of Commerce for endorsing my Cedar Key series and being the only place on the island for my fans to obtain autographed copies. To the President of the Chamber and my friend Andrea Dennison, thank you so much for your support and encouragement. To Tina Ryan, Secretary, another thank you, and to Mary Farrell, thank you so much for the promoting you do for the Cedar Key series with tourists visiting the Welcome Center.

  As always . . . thank you to my personal assistant, Alice Jordan; my husband, Ray; my daughter, Susan; and all of my wonderful fans who have come to love the Cedar Key series as much as I do.

  1

  “So you were looking for a small, quiet town where you could relocate?” I heard the woman ask as I carefully placed her truffles in the box.

  I nodded and smiled while focusing to make sure that I had each chocolate perfectly lined up.

  “Yes,” I told her, although it wasn’t the entire truth. “Unfortunately, Salem became too busy for my liking.”

  “That’s right. Chloe said you were from the Witch City. Oh, and I’m real sorry about the loss of your mother.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and wondered what she’d think if she knew Mom was upstairs in my apartment.

  I closed the box and attached the island-shaped gold seal that displayed my shop name, Berkley’s Chocolate & Gems, before ringing up the sale.

  “Well, I’m Polly,” the woman said. “I own the Curl Up and Dye Hair Salon over on Third Street. If you’re lookin’ for a new style, drop on by.”

  I noticed that her glance strayed to the deep purple streak that ran along the side of my dark brunette hair.

  “Thanks,” I told her even though I couldn’t remember the last time I’d crossed the threshold of a hair salon. A few months before, I’d decided it was time to get rid of the long hair that had hung to my shoulders for years. Using a good pair of cutting shears I’d proceeded to snip away until I was left with a one-inch pixie style that complemented my oval-shaped face, only requiring a shampoo and a bit of mousse and I was good to go. I’d never been one to fuss with fancy styles, nor was I one to follow current trends. Hence, the purple streak fit me.

  Polly reached across the counter to take her chocolates. “I’m very anxious to try these. I’ve been counting the days to your opening since last November.”

  “I know, and Chloe understood about my delay. I was lucky that she was willing to hold the apartment and this shop for me. My mother took ill shortly after I returned to Salem from my visit here. She passed away in November, and then I had a lot of things to tend to.”

  “Oh, I can only imagine. Losing a family member brings so many tasks that need to be done. I remember when I lost my mother and had to clean out her house. My sister and I spent a couple months trying to decide what to keep and what to get rid of.”

  “Right,” was all I said, and thought of the postcards tucked away in my desk drawer.

  “Well, I won’t keep you any longer, but it was nice to finally meet you.”

  “Same here, and I hope you’ll enjoy the chocolates.”

  She turned toward the door and then paused in front of the circular table where I had arranged my display of crystals and other gems.

  “Oh,” she said, reaching out a finger to touch a rose quartz crystal. “How beautiful. You also sell these?”

  “Yes.” A customer had been in earlier, and I now saw that my display wasn’t in the symmetrical arrangement that I’d created. I repositioned the amethyst above the pyramid-shaped crystal. “Do you like gems?”

  “I don’t honestly know. What are they used for? I mean, what do you do with them?”

  I smiled, both at her question and the fact that my display was again in balance.

  “Well, all gems have energy,” I explai
ned. “Crystals are used for healing and to bring positive changes in the mind. Many people use them for meditation. Our bodies have a complex electromagnetic system, and nature has created crystals to be perfect electromagnetic conductors. Each one has a unique vibrational resonance, and they’ve been known to have a positive effect on our body systems. Pick one up and hold it in your hand.”

  Polly reached out, allowing her hand to pause briefly before choosing a six-sided prism. She folded her fingers across the gem. “Oh, it feels quite warm,” she said, after a few moments.

  I nodded. “Right. That’s the energy of the crystal interacting with your energy.”

  “Well, I’ll be darn,” she said, replacing the gem on the table. “I always say you learn something new every day. Thanks for explaining that to me. Now I’m going home to savor these chocolates.”

  “My pleasure,” I told her as I moved the crystal a smidgeon to the left of where Polly had placed it.

  I heard my stomach growl and glanced at my watch. Twelve-thirty. No wonder I was hungry—it had been over seven hours since I’d had breakfast. I flipped the cardboard clock on my door to one-thirty, got my keys, locked the door, and stepped outside onto Second Street.

  I stood there for a few moments breathing in the clean March air. Spring had arrived on the island of Cedar Key with warm temperatures and the scent of tropical blooms. March in the Boston area could be very iffy, and it wasn’t unusual for a St. Patrick’s Day blizzard to descend on winter-weary residents, so I was relishing my first spring in the Sunshine State.

  I walked around the corner, through the courtyard, and up the stairs to my apartment. Stepping into the living room, I heard a meow and saw Sigmund come running from the bedroom.

  I picked him up to cuddle in my arms and rubbed my chin back and forth across the top of his large, dome-shaped head. “Have a tough morning sleeping, did you?” I received another meow in reply as we headed to the kitchen.

  “Time for us to eat, fellow,” I told him as I opened a can of Fancy Feast. After placing his bowl on the floor, I heated up some of the squash soup that I’d prepared the night before, and then settled myself at the table that overlooked SR 24.

  Chloe had been right. I noticed more traffic entering town for the start of the weekend. She’d told me that my busiest days in the shop would probably be Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

  I had been fortunate to hook up with Chloe the previous year during my first visit to Cedar Key. I recalled wandering into the coffee café across the street and being greeted by Grace, her sister Chloe, and their friend Suellen. All three had been friendly and made me feel welcome. Although I’d only come at that time to see the town—the town where my mother had chosen to disappear when I was five—I knew now that deep down inside I’d planned all along to eventually spend a significant amount of time here. Enough time to discover the answers that I’d wanted for the past forty years. So when Chloe told me that she’d recently purchased the Hale Building across the street and had both an apartment for rent and retail space for a shop, I knew my stars were aligned in a way that wouldn’t allow me to postpone my decision.

  But that decision was delayed due to the sudden death of my mother. When I’d called Chloe to explain that I wouldn’t be able to come in November as planned, and that I’d understand if she had to cancel our rental agreement, she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted that she wasn’t desperate for the rental money and a few more months would be fine. I offered to at least pay the rent during the time I wasn’t there, but she wouldn’t hear of that either. During the two weeks since I’d arrived on the island Chloe had been helpful with whatever I needed, and since she had the other apartment down the hall, I felt certain that over time we’d become good friends.

  I rinsed out my bowl, placed it in the rack, and decided to make myself a cup of tea to go with the oatmeal cookies I’d baked that morning.

  I took the tea and cookies into the living room and saw that Sigmund had resumed his position on the wide windowsill in the bedroom. From the day we’d moved in, he’d claimed that patch of sun as his own. I heard his loud purring and smiled. Sigmund was an extralarge black cat and my best buddy. We’d been together for ten years, since the morning he’d shown up at the back door of my chocolate shop in Salem.

  I nibbled on a cookie and looked around the living room. Perfect for a woman alone. Just three rooms and a bath, but spacious, bright, and airy. I was especially happy with the oversized kitchen, which gave me plenty of room to make my chocolates. Although now that I was going to be purchasing most of them wholesale from Angell and Phelps in Daytona, I wouldn’t have to make quite as many chocolates as I’d had to in Salem. Hopefully, this would enable me to have more time for spinning the fiber from my alpacas.

  I thought of Bosco and Belle, the source of my fiber, and felt a momentary stab of homesickness, but I wasn’t sure which home I longed for—coastal Maine, where I’d lived only till age five, or Salem, Massachusetts, where I’d resided until a couple weeks ago?

  I recalled my phone conversation from the day before with Jill. Jill had been my first girlfriend when we lived in Maine, and when I moved to Salem with my mother and grandmother, Jill continued to keep in touch with printed letters enabling us to then become pen pals the summer before we began first grade. Our friendship had grown over the years since I’d left Topsham, and during those years, Jill had moved a few towns away, gotten married, divorced, and became the owner of Rumination Farm in North Yarmouth. Her alpaca farm was where I boarded Bosco and Belle, knowing they were well cared for, which Jill had assured me of the previous morning. But I still missed the fact that I wouldn’t be able to jump into my car and make the two-hour drive to visit both her and my alpacas.

  My eyes strayed to the oak rolltop desk, and I let out a deep sigh. The postcards that I’d found after my mother died were safely stored in the top drawer—waiting for me to unravel their meaning. Waiting for me to understand things that my mother and grandmother would never discuss. And the postcards were the reason why I’d come to Cedar Key in the first place.

  I pushed aside thoughts of Bosco and Belle and went into the kitchen to place my cup and plate in the sink before going to pat Sigmund.

  “Be a good boy, Siggy. I’m closing at five . . . unless I get an onslaught of business, of course.”

  2

  When I came downstairs and walked to the corner of Second Street and SR 24, my plan was to run across the street to get myself some coffee at the coffee café, but I was surprised to see a gentleman sitting on the pavement in front of my shop reading a book. Obviously waiting for me to reopen. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was only one-twenty. I still had ten minutes—but business was business.

  As I walked toward my shop I could see the man was probably mid- to late fifties, had curly gray hair, and seemed to be deeply engrossed in whatever he was reading.

  Even when I stood just a few inches away from him, he didn’t acknowledge me or look up until I cleared my throat. The expression on his face was one of embarrassment as he pulled himself to a standing position while brushing off his jeans.

  “I’m so terribly sorry,” he said, and I immediately recognized a very proper British accent. I believe people referred to it as the King’s English. “I have no doubt you’re the proprietor of the chocolate shop and I’m blocking your way to reopen.”

  In addition to the British accent, I also noticed my loitering customer had a very pleasant face. One of those faces that isn’t just nice to look at but is wholesome and open and tempts one to want to know him better. Deep brown eyes stared back at me with a hint of interest.

  I smiled and for the first time in ages, I felt the urge to flirt coming over me. Reaching out to put my key in the lock, I said, “Yes, that would be me, and I’d have to say this is a first. Finding a gentleman sitting on the pavement waiting for me to open. Any chance you’re a chocoholic?”

  He followed me inside and his laughter filled the shop.

&
nbsp; When I turned around, I noticed that he was about five inches taller than my five feet seven and that he was wearing a store-bought cable pullover sweater. Knitters noticed things like that.

  “Now, that’s a first for me,” he said, a huge smile on his face. “Although I do admit to having quite a passion for chocolate, I’ve never been referred to as that.”

  I hoped I hadn’t offended him. “Well, having that passion can be a good thing. Chocolate is actually quite good for people, as long as it’s not overdone.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve read all the studies on chocolate and they’re quite convincing. And I do limit myself to just two pieces per day. I must admit I’ve been waiting patiently for you to open since I heard about your shop last fall. Now I’ll be able to eliminate my monthly forays into Gainesville for my chocolate supply.”

  “I didn’t realize there was a shop in Gainesville.” In addition to his height and sweater, I now noticed that this man had a most charming dimple in his chin when he smiled.

  “Well, if there is one, I’m not aware of it. I go to Publix and purchase bags of Lindt Truffles. They’re quite good, but nothing compares with fresh, handmade chocolates. By the way, I’m Saxton,” he said, extending his hand across the counter. “Saxton Tate the third.”

  I reached for his hand and let out a chuckle. “Seriously? That’s quite a name you have. Are you descended from royalty with that British accent along with the name?”

  Without releasing my hand, he let out another burst of laughter. “I tend to doubt that, but you never know what skeletons families hide in their closets, do you?”

  If you only knew, I thought.

  He gave my hand a squeeze before letting go.

  “No, I was just named for my father and my grandfather. Hence, the third. Grew up in a small village in the Cotswolds, but no royalty, I’m afraid. Oh, I also wanted to offer my condolences on the loss of your mother. I heard that was what detained your arrival in Cedar Key.”