Deep Waters

not work ing 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.

2

    Shallow water sometimes reveals shallow answers. But deep water holds deep questions.

    —"On the Way of Water," from journal of Hayden Stone

    The riptide rush of fate swept through Elias a second time in less than five minutes when Charity stormed back through the front door of Charms & Virtues
    So strange senses of anticipation that he had experienced the first time he saw her had not been a fluke.
    He watched, fascinated, as she bore down on him via an aisle formed by display counters. He had deliberately subjected himself to this second experiment in order to verify the initial results. No question about it. He felt as if he were being swept out into very deep water.
    Not good. Not good at all.
    But oddly beguiling.
    "Who are you, Elias Winters, and what kind of a game are you playing?" Charity demanded.
    Elias did not look at his wrist to check the time. He hadn't worn a watch since he was sixteen. But he needed to regain some sense of control. He forced himself to look away from the red fire buried deep in the curving wings of her heavy, dark hair. The battered old cuckoo clock on the wall provided a convenient distraction.
    "I'd estimate that took approximately one minute, forty-five seconds, give or take a couple of seconds. You're fast, Ms. Truitt. Very fast. Did you run the whole length of the pier?"
    "You timed me?"
    Crazy Otis, who was back on his perch nibbling on a large seed, chortled.
    "Quiet, Otis," Elias commanded gently.
    Otis subsided, but there was a cheerfully malicious gleam in his eyes. He cracked the seed that he gripped in one claw with a particularly loud crunch.
    Elias noticed that there was a distinctive gleam in Charity's vivid hazel eyes, too, but it was neither cheerful nor malicious. She was simply outraged.
    She was several inches shorter than he was, but she somehow managed to glare at him down the length of her very straight nose. Her full, soft mouth was compressed into an uncompromising line. There was unmistakable warmth just beneath her delicate cheekbones.
    Elias felt his insides tighten. He did not understand his own reaction. Something indefinable in her drew his whole attention.
    "Mr. Winters—"
    "Elias."
    "Mr. Winters, I want an explanation, and I want it now. You're up to something, that's obvious."
    "Is it?"
    "Don't you dare start answering questions with questions. That's manipulative, sneaky, and downright passive-aggressive."
    "If there's one thing you can be sure of when