Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt Page 6

  is somewhere on the island.”

  “Treasure?” Oh, great, just what Mica needed in her life

  right now! Not only did she have Professor Bigley looking for

  ghosts, now she had a couple of fortune hunters invading her

  aunt’s sanctum.

  “See, she didn’t know anything about it,” the husband

  stated.

  “Of course she knows. You told her first thing, but the fact

  remains it will be ours.”

  Mica found it curious that the woman talked to her husband

  as though he were a child. She used her no-nonsense attorney

  voice to quell their bickering. “I think I can clear this up quickly

  and you can go about your business. As long as you are guests

  at Sea Crest, you will be treated hospitably and left to your

  privacy. However, I shall expect you to follow the same rules

  as the other guests.”

  “And those are?”

  The haughty angle of the woman’s nose and her demeanor

  grated on Mica’s nerves, and she had to remind herself they

  were guests. “Simply that you respect other guests’ property

  and privacy concerning your activities. This is a small, quiet

  community, and the neighbors won’t tolerate mischief.

  Although the beach is public, the property around Sea Crest is

  private, and you won’t be able to dig for treasure. Even on the

  beach, you’ll have to observe the posted rules.”

  “But the treasure isn’t on the beach. The journal clearly

  states—”

  “Harold!” It was obvious Mrs. Barker didn’t want Mr.

  Barker divulging any more of their secret, and that was just

  fine with Mica. She had other things on her mind at the moment.

  “Mrs. Harris, if you would be so kind as to show this

  charming couple to their room?” Mica applied all the Southern

  charm she had learned, then forgotten, in modeling class. She

  had effectively dismissed the annoying couple, but she’d

  managed to do it with such grace they smiled at her as they

  turned to leave.

  She watched as poor Harold took two steps for every one

  of his wife’s, his head down in abject apology as she ranted

  and raved at him for heaven only knew what.

  She shook her head. A ghost-hunting professor and a

  treasure-hunting odd couple. She couldn’t wait to tell Logan

  about the strange people populating her side of the inn.

  Now why had she thought of that? Wanting to share part

  of her life with him indicated she had some feelings for him.

  Mica didn’t know enough about Logan to justify what she felt

  when around him.

  She mentally put herself back on track as she retraced her

  steps, slipping through the private gate to the gardens, and then

  through the sliding doors. She definitely didn’t want to run

  into the Barkers.

  In less than an hour, she had showered and changed into a

  colorful broomstick skirt and blouse, brushed her hair and

  pulled it up with a clip in the back.

  As she dropped into the front seat of her car, she decided

  the local historical society might have some information about

  the island community, since all the homes dated back to before

  the turn of the twentieth century. While she knew they wouldn’t

  have architectural drawings and floor plans, perhaps she could

  dig up an old photograph or two, or some kind of document

  referring to Sea Crest as Indigo Bay. The strange name by

  which Logan referred to her home stuck in her mind. It was

  almost as though she had heard it referred to as such before.

  She drove across the causeway, the only road linking the

  island with the mainland. The recently repaired black asphalt

  sent the August heat waves up in front of her, and Mica reached

  into her purse for her sunglasses. She laid on the horn when an

  erratic driver braked in front of her then turned left from the

  right lane. It appeared the small town of Cameron had become

  overpopulated, for the roads were already congested with

  traffic.

  When she finally arrived at the museum, she idly thought

  about turning around and going back, suddenly in no mood to

  talk to curators about architecture. But since she was already

  there, she fervently hoped she could find the information she

  needed. Otherwise, she would have to make a trip that she knew

  would end badly.

  ***

  Why wasn’t anything easy? Mica slowly rotated her head,

  trying to relieve the tension that had built at the back of her

  neck during her four-hour search at the museum. She hadn’t

  found what she needed, so her only other source of information

  was her parents.

  She drove south on Highway 17 without paying any

  attention to the scenery. While she knew she shouldn’t dread

  seeing her parents, they would make her visit difficult. Her

  father would ask her to return to work, and her mother would

  mention Richard. She could have put off this trip to another

  day, but she had a fascination for history and mysteries.

  And, of course, she couldn’t forget her simmering attraction

  for Logan. She didn’t want to be away from Sea Crest for even

  one evening and miss the chance to see him. He was the mystery

  she would like to solve. This morning, she had started to ask

  Mrs. Harris about him when the Barkers had interrupted. In a

  way, Mica was glad, because at this point, she wasn’t sure she

  wanted to share her thoughts of Logan with anyone else.

  Finding out about Logan wasn’t easy. If the lady at the

  Historical Society had been more helpful, Mica wouldn’t have

  to make this trip. However, very few records prior to the Civil

  War remained intact. They had located only one reference, in

  an old ship’s log, to an off-coast island named Indigo Bay.

  Other than that, the historical documents referred to Sea

  Crest and the homes on the island simply as retreats. Apparently,

  families used the island to get away from bouts of malaria that

  periodically spread through the plantations. Mica hoped her

  mother still had Grandmother’s old letters and family Bible.

  That might be her only hope for information at this point.

  She stopped by her apartment for her mail and did a little

  shopping, purposely dragging out the rest of the afternoon. She

  didn’t arrive at her parents until well after four in the afternoon.

  Though she had packed a bag, if she could help it she didn’t

  intend to stay the night.

  “Michaela, dear, what a pleasant surprise!” Her mother’s

  lilting voice reached her as she slid the verandah doors open.

  “Come give your mother a kiss.”

  Mica dutifully bent and pecked her mother’s cheek before

  slipping into a chair on the other side of the glass-topped patio

  table. As her mother finished addressing an envelope—probably

  an invitation to another of her famous cocktail parties—Mica

  took time to observe her. The sun picked up the silver highlights

  in her black hair, but somehow it didn’t detract from her

  youthful appearance. At fifty-four years old, Karen Chadwick
>
  was still a very pretty woman.

  The pink dress she wore accented her creamy complexion,

  and Mica suddenly could not recall ever seeing her mother in

  jeans and a sweatshirt. A descendant of an old Charleston

  family, she still clung to the Southern ideals of ladies, and

  prestige, and the social stratum. It wasn’t that her mother

  flaunted their wealth or snubbed those without membership to

  the Country Club. It was just her way to be the genteel “lady of

  the manor.”

  Mica poured herself a glass of iced tea and tried to decide

  how best to broach Sea Crest with her mother. If she asked too

  many questions, Karen would become suspicious and want to

  know exactly why Mica wanted the information. She needn’t

  have worried, for her mother gave her the perfect opening.

  “How are things up at Sea Crest, dear? Are you enjoying

  your little sojourn?” She couldn’t use a simple word like

  vacation.

  “Sea Crest is as beautiful as ever, Mother. Visiting has

  made me interested in some of the history of the place. I was

  hoping you still had some of Grandmother ’s or Great-

  grandmother’s correspondence or journals. I’d like to see if

  they wrote about it and the previous owners.”

  “Sea Crest has always belonged in the family. On the

  maternal side, of course. Why would you think there had ever

  been any other owner?” Just the tone of her mother’s question

  put Mica on guard.

  “No reason, really. I was just curious as to when some of

  the other homes were built, and when the island started being

  sold off. Surely we have some old letters or something?”

  Her mother tapped a manicured finger against her cheek.

  “Well, Grandmother, Aunt Theo and I sorted through so much

  stuff about twenty years ago and donated it to the Charleston

  Historical Society. After all, we can trace our roots back to one

  of the first families to settle in Charleston, you know.”

  Mica groaned. “Of course.” She had been brought up on

  her mother’s stories of ancestry and knew them all by heart.

  “There may still be some old letters up in the attic in a

  trunk. I’ll try to remember to have your father bring it down

  one of these days, if you promise to visit again. You know, you

  don’t spend very much time here, even when you’re in the city.

  I still think it entirely too frivolous for you to have an apartment

  when we have so much room. Of course, it was different when

  you and Richard were married.”

  Mica could feel a headache coming on.

  “How is Richard?” Her mother asked. “Have you spoken

  to him?”

  “No.” Why should I? Mica kept that thought to herself.

  “Well, he did call, and said he would go up to Sea Crest

  this week.”

  “You told him where I was?” Something close to panic

  closed around Mica’s throat, and she swallowed hard to relieve

  the tightness.

  “Don’t yell, dear. Of course I told him. You can’t reconcile

  your differences if you don’t talk to him.”

  “We’re divorced, Mother. I don’t want to reconcile any

  differences!”

  Her mother huffed, sitting up very straight and giving Mica

  that I-know-what’s-good-for-you look. “It’s not like he found

  someone...had an...”

  “An affair, Mother?” Mica had learned at an early age that

  one didn’t speak about sex with her mother or politics with her

  father. Just to agitate her, Mica stated, “There are reasons other

  than adultery for getting a divorce. I think I would have

  preferred it if he had screwed someone else rather than doing it

  to me financially.”

  As predicted, her mother gasped. “Michaela Marie! Don’t

  speak that way in this house.”

  Mica was saved from a response when Lucy, the

  Chadwick’s housekeeper, came out on the verandah. She had

  Mica’s bundle of mending in her arms.

  “Whatever did you do to your clothes, Miss Michaela?

  These things are chewed up!” Lucy held up Mica’s jeans and

  silk pajamas.

  “I didn’t exactly break my zipper or pop my buttons on

  purpose, Lucy.” Lucy had been in the Chadwick household

  since Mica was born, and had patched up not only her clothes

  but also her scraped knees and bruised pride more than once.

  “Break? Pop? There ain’t no zipper anymore—the teeth

  are done gone! And how’d you lose buttons when the thread’s

  all nice and tight in these little loops? Both buttons broke in

  the middle?”

  Mica would have examined her garments, but her father

  joined them at that moment. Lucy just clucked her tongue and

  turned back to the house.

  “Ah, the wanderer has returned,” her father greeted her. “I

  knew it wouldn’t take a month for you to get yourself

  straightened around. Good thing, too, for the Sanderson’s case

  is on the docket for next week.”

  “I only came for a visit, Father.” Mica couldn’t let him

  jump to conclusions. “I’m not ready for work yet.”

  “What?” His gray eyebrows came together in the middle

  as he scowled first at Mica then her mother, who gave a slight

  shake of her head as she patted his hand. It had been her

  mother’s silent I’ll tell you later signal for years. Mica still

  reddened with embarrassment, just as she had when her father

  hadn’t understood about cramps, bras, and boyfriends.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, get it fixed, whatever it is,

  and come back to work.”

  Mica wondered how easy it would be to fix having the

  unbidden image of Logan in her mind, or to erase the urgency

  she felt to return to Sea Crest and see him again.

  “And how is Richard?” Her father’s question brought

  another rapid shake of the head and hand patting from her

  mother. He jerked his hand free and said with a frown, “Be

  damned if I’ll be quiet, Karen.”

  To Mica, he added, “He deserves more time, Michaela.

  He’ll change if he has you backing him. But then, you’d better

  get yourself straightened out, too. We have too many big cases

  for you to be gone too long. We need your smile and soft voice

  to sway the jury and—”

  “Father, I’m twenty-nine years old and can manage my

  own life!” She hadn’t meant to yell, because she knew her father

  didn’t understand how talking about Richard upset her. He and

  her mother had married when vows meant forever, and they

  were still very much in love. She softened her voice with a

  smile. “Besides, as an esteemed attorney, you should be

  ashamed trying to use my looks and sweet, honey drawl on

  unsuspecting jurors.” She rose as she spoke and bent to give

  him a kiss. As gruff and unbending as her father had always

  been, she still loved him dearly. “Have to go. I promised Katie

  I’d be there for dinner.”

  “What? You can’t mean to leave before dinner?” Her

  mother sighed.

  “You weren’t expecting me, and I know how Lucy co
oks.

  Next time, I promise I’ll call first and stay longer.” Mica hugged

  her mother, reminding her to check on the old letters.

  She breathed a huge sigh of relief as she slipped into her

  car. Her parents were dear, sweet people, but when would they

  let her run her own life? Pointing her car north once again, she

  made a mental note to call Katie that evening so she could

  vouch for her lie.

  ***

  Mica maneuvered her way into the apartment at Sea Crest

  with her bag and purse over a shoulder, a pizza in one hand

  and keys in the other. She grinned at the note Mrs. Harris had

  left stuck to her door. It seemed Sea Crest’s guests had a minor

  confrontation on the beach that day. Professor Bigley’s ghost

  monitoring machine and the Barker’s metal detector set each

  other off.

  Mrs. Harris’ scribbled message indicated she would give

  Mica the details tomorrow, if she wanted them. However, the

  Island Beach Patrol had put an end to their argument before it

  escalated to a fistfight between the Professor and Mrs. Barker.

  Oh, boy! Although she wasn’t personally responsible for

  her guests, Mica felt she should probably say something to

  them. She chuckled at the thought of Mrs. Barker beating up

  the poor Professor.

  Mica flipped the remote control as she ate pizza, disgusted

  with the lack of good programming. She grumbled to herself

  as she cleared away her supper plate and tidied the apartment.

  Her stomach churned, and her palms became sweaty as she

  rearranged some books on a shelf, just about knocking over a

  fragile figurine.

  “What in blue blazes is wrong with you?” She spoke the

  question out loud, but already knew the answer.

  She wanted a sign—something to tell her Logan was

  upstairs—just as his voice and music had the previous two

  nights. Tonight, however, no sound drifted in through the open

  windows. No haunting melody beckoned her forth. Did she

  again dare invade his residence without an invitation?

  He had been on her mind the entire trip back from

  Charleston, and she realized she wanted to see him. No, she

  had to see him again, just as she had to breathe and eat to

  survive. It wasn’t just to erase the thoughts of Richard that her

  parents had forced to the surface.