Deep Waters

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 every thing I learned during the years I ran the company. If your resume 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 ail in this to gether, 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." Char ity glanced at the notes on her clipboard. "We still need hot dishes. Can you manage an entree?"
    "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. Some thing 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 some one 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