Heroes Are My Weakness(39)

Several dozen people waited at the wharf, most of them women. The disproportionate number of older residents testified to what Barbara had said about younger families leaving. Peregrine Island was beautiful during the summer, but who’d want to stay here year-round? Although today’s clear, sunny sky and bright light reflecting off the water had a particular kind of beauty.

She spotted Barbara and waved. Lisa, bundled up in an oversize coat that probably belonged to her husband, was talking with Judy Kester, whose bright red-orange hair was as loud and cheery as her laugh. Seeing the Bunco women together made Annie desperately miss her own friends.

Marie Cameron hurried over, looking as though she’d been sucking on lemons. “How are you doing out there by yourself?” she asked as dolefully as if Annie were in the final stages of a terminal illness.

“Fine. No problems.” Annie wasn’t mentioning last night’s break-in to anyone.

Marie leaned closer. She smelled of clove and mothballs. “You watch out for Theo. I know what I know, and anybody with eyes could see a squall was coming in. Regan wouldn’t have taken her boat out in that weather, not voluntarily.”

Fortunately, the converted lobster boat that served as the weekly supply ferry was pulling up to the wharf, and Annie didn’t have to respond. The boat held plastic crates filled with grocery bags, as well as a spool of electrical cable, roofing shingles, and a shiny white toilet. The islanders automatically formed a bucket brigade to unload the boat, then reloaded it in the same fashion with the mail, packages, and empty plastic crates from the previous shipment of groceries.

When that was done, everyone headed to the parking lot. Each plastic grocery crate had a white index card attached with the recipient’s name printed in black marker. Annie had no trouble locating the three crates marked HARP HOUSE. They were packed so full she had to struggle to get them to the car.

“It’s always a good day when the ferry makes it,” Barbara called out from the tailgate of her pickup.

“The first thing I’m going to do is eat an apple,” Annie replied as she settled the last crate into the Range Rover.

She went back to get her own meager order from the dozen or so crates waiting to be claimed. She inspected the names on each one but couldn’t find hers. She checked again. NORTON . . . CARMINE . . . GIBSON . . . ALVAREZ . . . NO HEWITT. NO MOONRAKER COTTAGE.

As she searched for the third time, she caught the scent of Barbara’s floral cologne behind her. “Something wrong?”

“My groceries aren’t here,” Annie said. “Only the ones for Harp House. Somebody must have taken mine by mistake.”

“More likely the new girl at the grocery messed up again,” Barbara said. “Last month she forgot half of my order.”

Annie’s good mood vanished. First the break-in at the cottage and now this. She’d been here two weeks. She had no bread, no milk, nothing but a few canned goods left and some rice. How was she going to wait another week for the next ferry, providing the boat could even make the crossing?

“It’s cold enough for your things to hold in the car for half an hour,” Barbara said. “Come to the house with me, and I’ll give you a cup of coffee. You can call the store from there.”

“Could you give me one of your apples, too?” Annie asked glumly.

The older woman smiled. “Sure.”

The kitchen smelled of bacon and Barbara’s perfume. She handed Annie an apple and began putting away her own groceries. Annie called the clerk on the mainland who was in charge of the islanders’ orders and explained what had happened, but the clerk sounded more annoyed than apologetic. “I got a message saying you’d canceled your order.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Then I guess somebody doesn’t like you.”

Barbara put a pair of floral coffee mugs on the table as Annie hung up. “Somebody canceled my order.”

“Are you sure? That girl screws up all the time.” Barbara retrieved a cookie tin from the cupboard. “Still . . . Things like that do happen around here. If somebody has a grudge, they make a phone call.” She opened the lid revealing a waxed paper nest filled with frosted sugar cookies.

Annie sat down, but she’d lost her appetite, even for the apple. Barbara took a cookie for herself. She’d penciled in one eyebrow a little crookedly, which made her look slightly barmy, but there wasn’t anything crazy about her straightforward gaze. “I’d like to say that things will get better for you, but who knows?”

Not what Annie wanted to hear. “There’s no reason for anyone to hold a grudge against me.” Except maybe Theo.

“And no reason why feuds spring up. I love Peregrine, but it isn’t for everyone.” She held the cookie tin out to Annie, shaking it to encourage her, but Annie shook her head. Barbara snapped the lid back on. “I’m probably nosing in where I don’t belong, but you’re about the same age as Lisa, and it’s obvious you’re not happy here. I’d hate to see you leave, but you don’t have family on the island, and you shouldn’t be miserable, either.”

Barbara’s concern meant everything to her, and Annie fought the urge to confide about the forty-six days she still had to spend here and the debts she couldn’t pay off, about her distrust of Theo and her fears for her future, but she wouldn’t do any of that.