Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(18)

Uncurling her fingers, she stared at the silvery hematite in her open palm.

A curse contained in stone.

Seven

Justine started the day by walking down to the Spring Street dock. The morning mist had diffused the sunrise into layers of pink and peach. The tide was slack, the water pinned by the reflected bristle of boat masts. A boat loaded with crab pots headed out of the harbor, followed by a pair of seagulls that split the air with squeaky-hinge cries.

Justine went out to the farthest boat slips with the hematite in her hand. She drew back her arm and threw the stone as far as possible. As it disappeared beneath the surface of the water, taking the geas with it, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

No excuses now. Nothing to stand in the way of whatever life dared to throw at her.

She felt as if she could jump up into the sunrise and be caught by a cloud. She felt fragile and raw. Newborn.

A fractious breeze came out of nowhere, carrying the promise of rain. Narrowing her eyes against the cool rush, she saw that the sky had darkened near the horizon. Waves slapped against the dock pilings like a dog lapping from its bowl.

By the time Justine walked into the kitchen at Artist’s Point, Zoë had arrived and started breakfast. The air was laced with the tang of coffee and the scents of browning butter and hot ovens.

“Good morning,” Justine said exuberantly. “What are we having?”

“Brioche French toast with berry compote.”

“Yum.” Justine’s attention was caught by the sight of the nearby blender, half filled with vivid green sludge.

“Mr. Black’s health shake,” Zoë said with a grimace.

Justine poured a small quantity into a glass and sampled it. The flavor was fresh and fruity, the texture light. “Did you remember to put in the hemp protein powder?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because a Green Monster smoothie is supposed to be a glutinous slop … and this is delicious.”

“I may have adjusted the ingredients a little,” Zoë said. She frowned as she saw Justine’s reaction. “I know. But it was so disgusting.”

Justine grinned. “It’s supposed to be. Has Priscilla already taken a glass up to Jason?”

“Yes.” Zoë began to slice homemade brioche loaves, golden and cakelike with shiny puffed tops. “I’ve never seen anyone multitask the way Priscilla does. She just drank a triple-shot espresso and had conversations on two cell phones and texted on a third. Simultaneously.”

“According to Jason, they’re all on a working vacation,” Justine said dryly. “Makes you wonder what their normal day is like.”

“Alex and his lawyer are going to spend most of today with him.”

“That should be interesting,” Justine said. “I’d love to hear Alex’s take on him.”

“Did you get to meet him last night? What did you think?”

“My first impression was that he’s a smug, self-aware, manipulative narcissist with spectacular cheekbones.”

They both jumped a little as a new voice entered the conversation. “I disagree,” Priscilla said, walking into the kitchen, carrying a glass of the green health shake.

Justine gave her a contrite glance, but before she could apologize, Priscilla continued, “Once you get to know him, the cheekbones are only a little above average.”

Zoë came forward to take the full glass from her. “He didn’t like it?” she asked in concern.

Priscilla shook her head, her copper-colored hair swinging. “He says it tastes too good,” she said. “I swear, he’d complain if someone hung him with new rope.”

“I took liberties with the recipe,” Zoë confessed sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’ll make another one.”

“I’ll do it,” Priscilla began, but she was forced to pause as her cell phone rang. “’Scuse me.” She retreated to the corner of the kitchen, muttering fiercely into the phone. “Toby.” A brief pause. “Don’t even try. You really expect I would give that sorry excuse to Jason? The software patch we sent out to fix the frame-rate problem made everything worse and now people are raisin’ hell ’cause they got weapons malfunctioning and dragons flying ass-backward. You’d better come up with some kinda brand-new patch to fix it, or … hold on.” Another cell phone went off, and she grabbed it out of a bag slung over her shoulder. “Yeah,” she said into the second phone. “I got the ass**le on the other line, trying to convince me everything is all MoonPies and salted peanuts.”

Justine caught her eye, gestured to the blender, and said sotto voce, “I’ll take care of it.”

Priscilla nodded and kept talking with quiet ferocity.

Zoë brought a colander of freshly washed spinach leaves to the blender. “I can give it another try,” she said, heaving a sigh.

“No, leave it to me,” Justine said. “You need to make breakfast for everyone else. Where’s the recipe?”

“I printed it out,” Zoë said, nudging a piece of paper to her.

In less than five minutes, Justine had blended the ingredients into a smoothie that approximated the color of an oxidized avocado, and poured it into a glass. Seeing that Priscilla was still talking and making furious notes, she said, “I’ll take it up to him.”