He raised his hand in farewell, pulling slowly, circumspectly past Jack, so as not to spray him with gravel.
He was smiling all the drive home—at least until he remembered he had left Watson with his puppy-sitter back in Pirate’s Cove.
Chapter Four
“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Nora observed on Tuesday.
“Yes, I am.” Ellery was making the most of no customers in the Crow’s Nest to play his version of hide-and-seek with Watson.
Upon hearing his voice, Watson came charging out of the Romantic Suspense section to chase Ellery down to where he was crouching behind the circular sale rack.
“You found me!” Ellery exclaimed, and Watson jumped up and down with excitement and tried to bite his nose.
Watching them, Nora smiled faintly and shook her head.
Ellery was in a good mood. Sure, Brandon’s presence in Pirate’s Cove was a little bit of a raincloud, but otherwise, the outlook seemed pretty darned sunny this morning. Not that he wanted to make too much of a simple invitation to dinner. He was not looking for any complications in his life. But he did really enjoy spending time with Jack. He was open to—even eager to—see more of him.
“Janet Maples is out of the hospital. I saw her getting coffee at the Brewhouse.”
“That’s good news,” Ellery said. And then, “Hey! No biting!”
Watson drew back as though to say, Who me? and then licked Ellery’s face in apology.
“She said she heard from Ernest Burke that his company has been hired to do the renovations on Skull House. They’re going to begin by knocking down half the walls on the ground level. Your friend wants an open floor plan.” Nora said the words open floor plan like the design concept was an affront to humanity.
Yeah, no way that would go over well with Nora or any of the other members of the Pirate’s Cove Historical Society.
Ellery sighed, got to his feet, and joined Nora behind the counter. “Brandon isn’t my friend. We used to know each other a long time ago, and we didn’t exactly part on good terms. But, Nora, you had to know he wasn’t going to live in Skull House as is.”
“He should respect the architectural integrity of the property. Regardless of who owns it, that building belongs to the entire island.”
“Welllllll…” Ellery didn’t want to argue with Nora while she was still so upset, and he too didn’t like the idea of a historic building’s integrity being compromised, but as much as he sympathized with her feelings, he couldn’t agree with her reasoning.
He was pretty sure the law was not on Nora’s side.
“Skull House should never have been sold to him,” Nora was saying. “It’s a…a travesty. I’m going to start a petition while there’s still time to stop him from destroying everything.”
Ellery considered and discarded a couple of comments. “When does demolition begin?”
“I can’t get a straight answer. Within a day or so. He’s talking about holding an auction this weekend to sell off the furniture and fixtures that still remain, according to Ernest.”
According to Ernest, according to Janet, according to whoever. The island’s internal communication system was efficient, if not always accurate.
“You have to do what you feel is right,” Ellery said, “but don’t get your hopes too high. Unless Brandon has changed a lot through the years, he isn’t going to care what anyone on this island thinks or says or does.”
Nora said grimly, “He may not have a choice.”
Ohhhkay.
Ellery didn’t bother to answer. Nora would just have to learn the same as everyone else who tried to get between Brandon and what he wanted. In any case, their monthly shipment of books had arrived, and Ellery got to work unpacking boxes and logging the titles into the computer system so that Nora could pull orders before he began shelving the fresh inventory.
Now and again, the bell on the door would chime and someone would drift into the bookshop, asking after Brandon’s books. It was sort of funny but also sort of irritating—the Crow’s Nest was a mystery bookstore, and Brandon’s work fell mostly in the realm of spec fiction—and almost none of the requests came from regular customers. But maybe that was the wrong way to look at it. The goal of every business was to expand their customer base, and if the people of Pirate’s Cove were eager to read Brandon’s work, why not give them what they wanted? Brandon’s books probably held enough elements of mystery and intrigue to warrant a place on the shelves.
A couple of people even asked when Brandon would be doing an author reading and signing at the Crow’s Nest. The idea made Ellery groan inside, but he smiled politely, and had Nora sign them up for the bookshop newsletter.
He was just shelving the final book, Harlan Coben’s The Boy from the Woods, when the bell on the front door chimed once again and Brandon sauntered in.
“Look at you,” he greeted Ellery. “You almost look like you know what you’re doing behind that counter!”
Nora made a huffy little sound and retreated to the back office without another word.
“Something I said?” Brandon asked.
“Isn’t it usually?” Ellery replied.
Brandon smirked. “Usually,” he agreed.
He wore his traditional black jeans and black turtleneck, but these days the turtleneck was cashmere and the jeans looked like snakeskin. He looked like a successful and wealthy eccentric, which was pretty much what he was.
“To what do I owe this honor?” Ellery asked.
“You’re the only bookstore in town.” Brandon cast his gaze over the seascapes hanging on the walls, the tall, neatly organized shelves, the row of gleaming ships’ lanterns lining the back wall. “So this is it. This is your second act?”
“Ta-da!” Ellery retorted. “Yep.”
Brandon’s smile was rueful. “I hate to say it, but it kind of suits you.”
“I know,” Ellery admitted. “I kind of enjoy it.”
Brandon glanced around. “No endcap of local authors?”
“If you’re asking whether we carry your books, nope. We don’t.” Honesty compelled Ellery to add, “But it seems I’ll be ordering some soon. People have been asking for them.”
Brandon looked smug. “Naturally.”
“Still as humble as ever.”
“Why should I be? Four of my last five books have been New York Times bestsellers.”
“Not your last one.” As soon as the words were out, Ellery felt mean-spirited. He had checked, though, first thing that morning, and Brandon’s last book had—all things being relative—tanked.
“The next one will be a doozy.” He glanced past Ellery to the doorway Nora had disappeared through. “Water under the bridge. That’s not why I’m here. Although, I’ve got a bunch of author copies on hand, if you want to sell them. You can have them for free. I don’t do anything with them. They just take up space.”
“Really?” That was unexpectedly generous, especially coming from Brandon.
“Sure. It’s good promotion for me. Seeing this is going to be my home base.” He grinned. “Well, not this. But Buck Island.”