Bridgy tossed me a look of sympathy and quickly volunteered to take over serving. Anything rather than be trapped in a car listening to Rowena whine.
Rowena lived in a condo on the south end of the island near Lovers Key, a short enough trip, but I’d have to drive her back and forth. I gritted my teeth and moved Rowena out the door and into the Heap-a-Jeep.
Channeling Aunt Ophie’s comments from our early-morning ride to the Read ’Em and Eat, Rowena sniveled, “You really need to think about getting a new vehicle. And this one could certainly use a trip to the car wash.”
I was sure Ophie would have given me well-mannered ladies points for not dumping Rowena out on the street right then and there.
“It’s this thing with Delia. Her dying and all. It’s so upsetting. I’ve known her and Augusta since I first opened my consignment shop, nearly fifteen years ago. I’ve been begging her to allow me to sell some of the piles and piles of bric-a-brac strewn all over her house. But, quiet as she was, that’s how stubborn she could be.”
I had trouble thinking of Delia as stubborn, but even I could see that she was deeply attached to all things related to her past.
“What happens to all her old junk now, I wonder. It’ll probably be tossed to the curb and go out with the trash. Such a waste.” Rowena sighed. “We could have made a fortune. Not to mention the island. Did I tell you that World of Luxury Spa Resorts sent a vice president here all the way from California to buy Delia’s island? Delia wouldn’t even meet with him. I tried to help smooth a path to conversation, but she wasn’t having it. I could have gotten quite the tidy commission brokering that deal. Now I suppose he’ll have to talk to Augusta, and we both know that she’s far more mulish than Delia.
“Here we are. Make a left in the driveway and head to the building on your right. Anyway, trying to reason with Augusta isn’t going to be easy. You can wait here. I’ll be right down.”
I could have mentioned the nephews, but Rowena’s soliloquy was so self-absorbed, so irritating, I decided not to give her the teensiest bit of information. She’d only run back to the Spa Resort guy and try to curry favor by being first to tell him the latest gossip. She’d find out soon enough.
I sat in the car thinking that I could chalk this ride up as the worst part of my day. Then I had a dark thought. Lieutenant Anthony was coming to interrogate me. That would be worse. Still, I managed to plaster a smile on my face as I watched Rowena walk out of the building and back toward me.
Chapter Nine ||||||||||||||||||||
By the time I dropped Rowena in front of the Emporium the tow truck was on-site. The driver, a young, skinny guy in surfer shorts, had popped the hood of her boxy Ford Flex and was running cable from one of those portable battery chargers to her car battery. I offered to deliver her suitcase and package rather than have her follow me back to the Read ’Em and Eat. I needed to be done with her, at least for the day. I parked the Heap-a-Jeep, ran into the café, and dragged Rowena’s clumsy box and overweight suitcase across the parking lot. I dropped them by the front door of the Sand and Shell Emporium where Rowena was still yammering at the mechanic while he was putting away his tools. His eyes pleaded for a rescue, but Bridgy needed me more.
“Rowena, here’s your stuff.” I pointed to the doorway. “Enjoy your day.” And I turned on my heels and half jogged back to the café before she could stop me. I heard her yell something. I pretended it was “good-bye.” I knew it wasn’t “thank you.”
The breakfast crowd was pretty much gone except for three surfers who’d worked up huge appetites out on the Gulf this morning, judging by the piles of food on their table, and the lovey-dovey newlyweds who’d become late breakfast regulars.
I took one look at the kitchen and realized that there were worse things than driving up and down the island listening to Rowena’s mercenary drivel.