Deep Waters (5 page)

“I've been told it's difficult to mix the two.”

“Yeah, well, evidently the aliens have mastered the problem. As you can imagine, the town council is hoping that when nothing happens that night, the Voyagers will figure out that the whole thing is a hoax and will leave Whispering Waters Cove bright and early on the morning of the sixteenth.”

“In my experience people tend to cling to a belief even when they are confronted with clear evidence that it's false.”

“Well, it won't bother me or anyone else here on the pier if some of them decide to stay in the area,” Charity admitted. “Most of the Voyagers seem pleasant enough, if a little naive. A few have become good customers. I've made a killing during the past two months with paranormal and New Age titles.”

The long blue and white tunics and bright headbands worn by the members of the Voyagers cult had become familiar sights in and around the small town. Gwendolyn Pitt and her followers had arrived early in July. They had parked their motley assortment of trailers, motor homes, and campers on a patch of prime-view land that had once been an old campground.

The town's mayor, Phyllis Dartmoor, had initially been as hostile toward the group as the council members, but after a short flurry of fruitless efforts to force the Voyagers out of town, she had become surprisingly sanguine about the situation. Whenever the local newspaper produced an editorial denouncing the newcomers as a blot on the landscape, she reminded everyone that the cult would likely disintegrate in the middle of August.

“The Voyagers do add some local color,” Elias said as he handed Charity one of the small, handleless cups.

“Yes, but they don't enhance the new upscale image that the town is trying to create to draw tourists.”
Charity took a sip of tea. The warm liquid rolled across her tongue, bright, subtle, and refreshing. She savored the feel of the brew in her mouth for a few seconds. The man did know his tea, she thought.

“Like it?” Elias watched her intently.

“Very nice,” she said as she put the cup back down on the counter. “There is something very distinctive about keemun, isn't there?”

“Yes.”

“Well, back to business. Actually, it's the town image thing that makes it necessary for those of us here on the pier to move quickly on the lease issue.”

“Go on.” Elias sipped tea.

“The mayor and town council would like to see this pier converted into a boutique art mall filled with cutesy shops and antique galleries. They want to attract high-end tenants. But in order to do that, they have to convince the owner of the landing to remove the current shopkeepers. We're not exactly trendy, you see.”

Elias glanced around at his own gloom-filled store. “I get the picture. And you think Far Seas will go along with the council's plans to kick us out?”

“Of course. Far Seas is a big corporation in Seattle. Its managers will be interested only in the bottom line. If they think they can lease these shops to a lot of up-market art dealers who can afford sky-high rents, they'll jump at the chance to get rid of us. Or, they may try to sell the landing itself.”

“What do you know about Far Seas?”

“Not much,” Charity admitted. “Apparently it's some kind of consulting firm involved with the Pacific Rim trade. A couple of weeks ago all of us here on the pier received a letter from Hayden Stone's attorney instructing us to start paying our rents to Far Seas.”

“Have you spoken to anyone at Far Seas?”

“Not yet.” Charity smiled grimly. “It's a question of strategy.”

“Strategy?”

“I decided it would be best to wait until the new owner of Charms & Virtues arrived before we made our move.”

Elias took another meditative sip of tea. “So at this point you're operating on a lot of assumptions about Far Seas?”

The hint of criticism irritated her. “I think it's safe to assume that Far Seas will react in the same way that any large company would in this situation. As the new owner of a piece of commercial real estate, the company will naturally want to get the highest possible rate of return. Or the best offer, if it chooses to sell the pier.”

“When one studies an opponent's reflection in a pool of water, one should take care to ensure that the water is very, very clear.”

Charity eyed him uneasily. “That sounds like more of Hayden Stone's old sayings. Were you a very close friend of his?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose that's why you got Charms & Virtues?”

“Yes.” Elias's eyes were unreadable. “It was his legacy to me. I also got his cottage.”

“I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mr. Winters, but you won't hang on to your legacy for long if we don't get those leases renegotiated with Far Seas. We've got to move fast now that you're here. There's a strong possibility that someone on the town council or Leighton Pitt, a local realtor, will contact Far Seas directly.”

“Elias.”

“What? Oh, Elias.” She hesitated. “Please call me Charity.”

“Charity.” He repeated her name the way he sipped tea, as if he were tasting it. “Unusual name these days.”

“You don't meet a lot of people named Elias, either,” she retorted. “Now, then, if you'll just give me a few minutes to explain our plans for dealing with Far Seas, I'm sure you'll see how important it is for you to join with us.”

“Yes.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Elias raised one shoulder in a lethally graceful movement. “As the new owner of Charms & Virtues, I see the importance of joining with you in your—what did you call it? Ah, yes. Your united front. I've never been part of a united front before. How does it work?”

She smiled with satisfaction. “It's quite simple, really. I'm the president of the shopkeepers association, so I'll do the actual negotiating with Far Seas.”

“Have you had much experience with this kind of thing?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. I was in the corporate world before I moved here to Whispering Waters Cove.”

“Charity Truitt.” Recognition gleamed in the depths of Elias's eyes. “I thought the name sounded familiar. Would that be the department-store Truitts of Seattle?”

“Yes.” Charity's spine stiffened in automatic reflex. “And before you say anything else, let me answer all your questions in three sentences. Yes, I'm the former president of the company. Yes, my stepbrother and stepsister are now running the business. And, yes, I intend to remain here in Whispering Waters Cove.”

“I see.”

“While I am no longer involved in the operation of
Truitt department stores, I haven't forgotten everything I learned during the years I ran the company. If your résumé is stronger than mine, I'll be glad to turn the job of confronting Far Seas over to you.”

“I'm satisfied that you're the best person for the task,” he said gently.

Chagrined, Charity set the clipboard down on the counter. “Sorry to sound so belligerent. It's just that my decision to leave Truitt last summer was, uh, complicated and difficult.”

“I see.”

She studied him closely, but she could not tell if he had heard the rumors of a broken engagement and a nervous breakdown. She concluded that he had not. He showed no signs of curiosity or concern. But, then, he showed no real emotion of any kind, she thought. She decided to plunge ahead.

“The pier is prime property,” she said. “We're going to have to fight to keep our shops.”

“Something tells me that you will be successful in renegotiating your leases.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Charity glanced at Crazy Otis. “If I'm not successful, we're all going to be looking for new locations. And that includes you, Otis.”

“Heh, heh, heh.” Otis slithered along the perch until he reached the far end. He stepped off the fake branch onto Elias's shoulder.

Charity winced, recalling the occasions when Otis had climbed onto her arm. Elias did not seem to notice the heavy claws sinking into his dark green pullover.

“Another cup of tea?” Elias asked.

“No, thanks.” Charity glanced at her watch. “I'm going to call Far Seas this afternoon and see if I can
get the lease negotiations started today. Wish me luck.”

“I don't believe in luck.” He looked thoughtful. “The stream flows inevitably into the river and then on into the sea. The water may take on different aspects at various points in its journey, but it is, nevertheless, the same water.”

Newlin was right, Charity thought. Elias Winters was kind of strange. She smiled politely. “Fine. Wish me good karma or something. We're all in this together, remember. If I don't pull this off, everyone on this pier is going to be in trouble.”

“You'll pull it off.”

“That's the spirit.” Charity turned to go. Belatedly she recalled the other item on her agenda. “I almost forgot. The shopkeepers are having a potluck here on the pier Monday night after we close for the day. You're invited, naturally.”

“Thank you.”

“You'll come?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Hayden never came to the potlucks.” Charity glanced at the notes on her clipboard. “We still need hot dishes. Can you manage an entrée?”

“As long as no one minds if it doesn't contain meat.”

Charity laughed. “I was just about to tell you that a couple of us here on the pier are vegetarians. I think you're going to fit in nicely.”

“That would be a novel experience,” Elias said.

Charity decided not to ask him to elaborate. Something told her she would not like the answer. Her comment had only been a polite, offhand remark. She doubted that Elias made those kinds of comments. She had the feeling that everything he said was laced with several layers of cryptic meaning. She'd had the
same sensation whenever she talked to Hayden Stone. It did not make for a lot of comfortable, casual conversation.

Charity experienced a surge of relief as she walked quickly out of the dark confines of Charms & Virtue into the sunlight. She hurried down the wide corridor between the shops and entered the airy, well-lit premises of Whispers.

Newlin Odell looked up from a bundle of weekly news magazines that he was placing on a rack. His thin features were pinched in the expression of someone who had just recently returned from a funeral. For Newlin, that was normal.

He was a skinny young man of twenty-four. His narrow face was partially obscured by a scruffy goatee and a pair of wire-framed glasses. Charity was almost certain that he trimmed his lanky brown hair himself. It hung in uneven hunks around his ears.

“How'd it go?” Newlin asked in his blunt, economical fashion.

Charity paused in the doorway of her small office, aware of a familiar wave of sympathy for Newlin. She had hired him a month ago when he had shown up out of nowhere to ask for a job. He had come to Whispering Waters Cove to be near his girlfriend, a young woman named Arlene Fenton, who had joined the Voyagers. He spent the time that he was not working at Whispers trying to coax Arlene away from the influence of the cult.

Having thus far failed in his mission to talk sense into Arlene, Newlin had stoically determined to wait out the situation. He hoped that on the fifteenth of August Arlene would finally understand that she had been taken in by a scam.

Charity sincerely hoped that he was right. She found his devotion to Arlene heartwarming and quixotic in
an old-fashioned, heroic sense. But she secretly worried about what would happen if Arlene did not come to her senses at midnight that night. Having nursed a depressed parrot for two months, she was not eager to deal with a stricken Newlin Odell.

“You were right, Newlin,” Charity said. “Elias Winters is kind of strange. He was a friend of Hayden Stone's, so I guess that explains it. But the good news is that he's willing to go along with the rest of the shopkeepers in order to negotiate the new leases.”

“You gonna call Far Seas?”

“Right away. Cross your fingers.”

“It's gonna take more than luck to talk Far Seas into giving you a break on the leases if Pitt or the town council has already gotten to 'em and convinced 'em that the pier is valuable real estate.”

“Don't be so negative, Newlin. I'm banking on the fact that the town council doesn't yet know who owns Crazy Otis Landing. We only found out ourselves a couple of weeks ago. I told everyone on the pier to keep quiet.”

“I don't think anyone's blabbed.”

“I hope not.” Charity pushed open the door of the back room and wound her way through stacks of boxes to her desk.

She sat down and reached for the phone. Quickly she punched in the number for Far Seas, Inc., which had been included in the letter Hayden Stone's attorney had sent to the shopkeepers.

There were some odd noises on the line, a click, and then the phone finally rang on the other end. Charity wondered if the call had been forwarded. She waited impatiently until the receiver was lifted.

A newly familiar voice answered.

“Charms & Virtues,” Elias said.

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