Deep Waters

think I can handle it," Elias said softly. Charity was not sure how to deal with that simple statement. She looked around at the others. "Well, what do you say we eat first and then talk business?"
    "Good idea," Ted said. "What did you bring, Winters?"
    "Chilled green-tea noodles with a peanut dipping sauce," Elias said. "There's some wasabi on the side for those who like it hot."
    Charity stared at him in astonishment.
    "Figures," Ted muttered. "Another fancy gourmet vegetarian from Seattle. May have to put a ban on you folks moving here to the cove. You're ruining our regional cuisine."
    Radiance raised her brows. "You mean those old hallowed recipes such as hamburger casserole and mushroom soup gravy are in danger of going extinct? Groovy."
    Bea laughed. "Better look to your laurels, Charity." Radiance giggled. "Charity is a fantastic cook," she explained to Elias. "Ted grumbles a lot, but even he likes her food."
    "Best bunny food in the Northwest," Ted agreed as he ambled over to the picnic table.
    "You can say that again." Yappy crossed to the table and removed the cover from Elias's dish. He smiled with satisfaction at the sight of the green noodles. "But I think we may have some real serious com petition here, folks."
    Charity heard the universal relief in the good-natured laughter that followed Yappy's comment. She felt the tension seep out of the group as everyone trooped toward the buffet table.
    A few minutes later she sat down on a bench, a plate of Elias's green noodle concoction in her hand. The late summer twilight settled softly over the cove. The last rays of the setting sun turned the sky to mol ten gold.
    Elias sat down near Charity. She glanced covertly at his plate and noticed that it was laden with her couscous and lentil salad. For some obscure reason, that pleased her.
    The sound of chanting voices drifted across the cove. It was accompanied by the lilting tones of a badly played flute and the throb of a drum.
    "What the hell is that?" Elias asked.
    "The Voyagers," Radiance answered. "They chant the sun down every evening. You probably can't hear them from your house on the bluff, but the prevailing wind sometimes carries the sound across the cove to the pier."
    "Bunch of crazies," Ted said around a mouthful of green noodles.
    Radiance frowned. "I think it's a lovely ancient custom."
    Elias glanced at her. "Ancient custom?"
    "They used to do things like that in the old days," Radiance said.
    Elias paused, a forkful of Charity's salad halfway to his mouth. "Which old days?"
    Charity hid a grin.
    Radiance softened her voice to a level approaching reverence. "The sixties."
    "Ah." Elias nodded very soberly. "Those old days."
    He caught Charity's gaze and gave her a slow, deliberate wink. She almost dropped her fork.
    "Be interesting to see how long the Voyagers keep up the quaint custom after winter hits," Yappy said gruffly. "They'll freeze their asses off out there on the beach if they try that in November."
    "They won't be here in November," Bea reminded him. "Like the mayor says, they'll all leave when the spaceships fail to show up as promised."
    Newlin Odell raised his head abruptly. His eyes glittered with anger behind the round lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses. "That chanting-down-the-sun shit is just another stupid ritual Gwendolyn Pitt created to add a little color to her scam."
    "Take it easy, Newlin," Ted advised. "So far as anyone can figure out, Pitt ain't doing anything illegal. Believe me, if there was something shady going on with the Voyagers, the town council would jump on it. They'd send the police chief out there in a red-hot minute if they had grounds."
    "That's true," Yappy agreed. "Council's been looking for an excuse to get rid of the Voyagers ever since they arrived. I'm surprised Leighton Pitt isn't more upset than he is. You'd think he'd be real pissed. He owns half-interest in that old campground the Voyagers are using."
    Elias ate couscous with a contemplative air. "Is there a connection between Leighton Pitt, the realtor, and Gwendolyn Pitt, the cult leader? Or is the name just a coincidence?"
    "No coincidence," Bea said. "Leighton is the wealthiest man in town. Gwen is his ex-wife. They both used to run Pitt Realty together. But Leighton divorced Gwen a year ago to marry a new real estate agent named Jennifer who went to work for them. It was a real nasty mess."
    Elias flicked an inquiring glance at Charity. "And Pitt's ex-wife showed up this summer with the space