neither. The top's still got the seal on it. Want me to keep looking?”
“Go to the end of the path, just in case there's something else. But I think we found what we came for.”
Elizabeth carefully carried the broken bottle back to the car, laid it on the backseat, protected it with the pink towel from the driver's seat. Victoria walked slowly along the beach, turning seaweed over with her stick.
“This is interesting.” She bent over to pick something up.
“What is?” Elizabeth went over to her, her face alert.
“A plastic cover of some sort.” Victoria stood the lilac stick in the sand. “The cover for a checkbook,” she said. “No checks in it, but there's something under the flap.”
Elizabeth had come abreast of her grandmother.
“It must have been in the water, drifted ashore with this clump of eelgrass.” Victoria opened the flap carefully. Inside was a soggy deposit slip with a water-blurred name and account number, and a yellow deposit receipt, also water-blurred.
“I can't make out the name or numbers.” Elizabeth peered over Victoria's shoulder.
“I can't, either. I think we need to show it to Domingo, see what he has to say.” She reached into her pocket for the frog-printed napkin and wrapped the plastic cover in it. “It may be just a piece of flotsam, but who knows.”
“I'll put it in the car with the other evidence.” Elizabeth held out her hand.
“Handle it carefully,” Victoria said. “Maybe when it's dry, we can read the lettering.”
Elizabeth put it on the backseat of the car, next to the broken bottle, and laid the frayed pink towel over both.
“While we're here, we might as well go out to the end of the dock.” Victoria started toward it.
They walked along the boards laid across the sand and onto the weathered dock.
“You were right.” Elizabeth looked down into the water. “You can see right to the bottom. The water is crystal-clear.”
Below them, a school of tiny fish swam in unison, abruptly changing direction with a flash of silver, as if the hundreds of fish were a single organism.
“Look how clearly you can see the harbormaster's shack from here.” Victoria put her hand up to shade her eyes from the glare. “I can even see Domingo leaning over the railing.”
Elizabeth followed her grandmother's gaze. “My God,” she said. “No wonder he's worried.”
“What?” Victoria lowered her left hand and looked at Elizabeth.
“I didn't realize you could see across the harbor so easily, that's all.”
Chapter 4
After supper, Victoria had returned to the shack to help her granddaughter sort receipts. At sunset, she went out on deck for a few minutes to watch the osprey chicks, fledglings now, poised on the edge of their nest, their strengthening wings spread for tentative flight. The parents hovered above the nest, flying in circles, plaintive cries echoing around the harbor.
Darkness closed in around the shack. Victoria and Elizabeth worked quietly, commenting occasionally on a boat name, or asking each other to interpret handwriting.
Victoria heard the click of the wall clock above the east window and looked up. “Eleven-thirty. Only a half hour to go.”
“The evening's gone fast.” Elizabeth entered a few more receipts into the computer. “I should be finished in another fifteen minutes, Gram. Thanks a million for helping me.”
“Is it always this quiet?” Victoria, at the desk at the end of the shack, turned to face her granddaughter.
“Pretty much so. Most of the boats get in before dark – usually, that is.” She looked at her grandmother and frowned.
The window that faced the parking lot and the gingerbread houses was a black mirror, reflecting the shack's brightly lighted interior. Victoria peered into the dark surface and saw herself, he white hair softly disarrayed, saw Elizabeth sitting in front of the computer, half-turned toward her, her hair wisping around her forehead. Elizabeth was a lean as Victoria had been at
“Go to the end of the path, just in case there's something else. But I think we found what we came for.”
Elizabeth carefully carried the broken bottle back to the car, laid it on the backseat, protected it with the pink towel from the driver's seat. Victoria walked slowly along the beach, turning seaweed over with her stick.
“This is interesting.” She bent over to pick something up.
“What is?” Elizabeth went over to her, her face alert.
“A plastic cover of some sort.” Victoria stood the lilac stick in the sand. “The cover for a checkbook,” she said. “No checks in it, but there's something under the flap.”
Elizabeth had come abreast of her grandmother.
“It must have been in the water, drifted ashore with this clump of eelgrass.” Victoria opened the flap carefully. Inside was a soggy deposit slip with a water-blurred name and account number, and a yellow deposit receipt, also water-blurred.
“I can't make out the name or numbers.” Elizabeth peered over Victoria's shoulder.
“I can't, either. I think we need to show it to Domingo, see what he has to say.” She reached into her pocket for the frog-printed napkin and wrapped the plastic cover in it. “It may be just a piece of flotsam, but who knows.”
“I'll put it in the car with the other evidence.” Elizabeth held out her hand.
“Handle it carefully,” Victoria said. “Maybe when it's dry, we can read the lettering.”
Elizabeth put it on the backseat of the car, next to the broken bottle, and laid the frayed pink towel over both.
“While we're here, we might as well go out to the end of the dock.” Victoria started toward it.
They walked along the boards laid across the sand and onto the weathered dock.
“You were right.” Elizabeth looked down into the water. “You can see right to the bottom. The water is crystal-clear.”
Below them, a school of tiny fish swam in unison, abruptly changing direction with a flash of silver, as if the hundreds of fish were a single organism.
“Look how clearly you can see the harbormaster's shack from here.” Victoria put her hand up to shade her eyes from the glare. “I can even see Domingo leaning over the railing.”
Elizabeth followed her grandmother's gaze. “My God,” she said. “No wonder he's worried.”
“What?” Victoria lowered her left hand and looked at Elizabeth.
“I didn't realize you could see across the harbor so easily, that's all.”
Chapter 4
After supper, Victoria had returned to the shack to help her granddaughter sort receipts. At sunset, she went out on deck for a few minutes to watch the osprey chicks, fledglings now, poised on the edge of their nest, their strengthening wings spread for tentative flight. The parents hovered above the nest, flying in circles, plaintive cries echoing around the harbor.
Darkness closed in around the shack. Victoria and Elizabeth worked quietly, commenting occasionally on a boat name, or asking each other to interpret handwriting.
Victoria heard the click of the wall clock above the east window and looked up. “Eleven-thirty. Only a half hour to go.”
“The evening's gone fast.” Elizabeth entered a few more receipts into the computer. “I should be finished in another fifteen minutes, Gram. Thanks a million for helping me.”
“Is it always this quiet?” Victoria, at the desk at the end of the shack, turned to face her granddaughter.
“Pretty much so. Most of the boats get in before dark – usually, that is.” She looked at her grandmother and frowned.
The window that faced the parking lot and the gingerbread houses was a black mirror, reflecting the shack's brightly lighted interior. Victoria peered into the dark surface and saw herself, he white hair softly disarrayed, saw Elizabeth sitting in front of the computer, half-turned toward her, her hair wisping around her forehead. Elizabeth was a lean as Victoria had been at
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