Rogue Wave by Isabel Jolie (reading eggs books txt) 📕

of water?” I asked as she stood by the outside spigot, filling up a yellow bucket with a white plastic handle she’d commandeered from below the porch.

“You’d probably rather not know. But I trust Alice. We should do this. And then, after dinner, I want to show you the paint chips. We can go across to the mainland this weekend and pick up the paint. Knock out the upstairs.”

Her movement felt like a whirlwind through the house. I checked on the casserole and tossed a salad. After dinner, we went for a walk along the beach. One thing about this island, no matter how crazy the day might get, or how strong the swell, when evening rolled around, life fell into a gentle lull.

Chapter 18

Luna

“Alice?” I knocked once more on the door. Chances were great the door, like all the others on the island, was unlocked, but I didn’t feel right walking into Alice’s home. Her golf cart sat in the adjacent shed, so she wasn’t far.

I wandered down the path beside her cedar planked cottage, crunching dried leaves, sand, and sticks with each step to her back yard. Her place boasted some of the best marsh views. A blue heron stood watch on long, spindly legs. At my approach, his wide white wings expanded, and he glided off into the air.

“Ms. Luna. Did you come to help me pickle?”

“I can help if you need it.”

“Come here and chop some of this cauliflower.”

Alice had a large plank table in her back yard with mason jars lined along it, plus more stacked in boxes on the ground. Heads of cauliflower, celery, radishes, and onions filled several boxes on the ground.

“You pickle cauliflower?”

“Tastes amazing. I pickle it and sell it to some of the restaurants on the mainland.”

Several cats meandered through her back yard, and one wrapped its tail around my leg, purring loudly like an engine. I picked up a knife from the counter and cut the good stuff away from the stalk.

“Why, look at that. Shelby likes you. She’s been so sad, and here she is…you’d never know she has a lost baby right now.”

“She lost her baby?”

Alice’s knife moved with the rhythm of a practiced chef as she spoke, and I watched in awe.

“Yes, one of her kittens went missing. Doesn’t mean good things.”

“I can go looking for it. What does it look like?”

“Looks just like her momma. Slate. Magic blue eyes. A few shades darker than Adrian’s.”

“I’ll go out and look. Couldn’t have strayed far, right?”

“You’re a good soul, Luna. I wish Pearl had been able to spend more time with you. She would’ve liked to know her grandson’s girl.”

“Girl? No, I’m sorry. He doesn’t…we’re not. It’s not like that.” My face warmed under her gaze, and I set my focus on the razor-sharp blade. There was no good reason to get Alice’s hopes up. She cared for Tate.

“Not like that, huh? I see. Well, you think he’d help you search for Shelby’s baby?”

I set the chef’s knife down on the carving board, not because I was tired, but because I felt inadequate and unnerved by Alice as she expertly shredded vegetables beside me. The silver strands woven through her thick black braids leant a splendor to her countenance and a veil of wisdom.

“I’ll ask.” My words came out in a whisper.

“Oh, good. Go, now, child. Thank you. Shelby thanks you.”

When I left Alice’s home, I called out along the way, hoping to locate the cat before finding my way to Tate’s. No such luck struck.

I found Tate outside, blowing away some debris with his electric blower. His faded t-shirt pulled tight across his chest, and his muscles flexed from holding the machine. Sweet Joseph, lord, he is hot. He smiled as I approached, and the loud whir of the blower ceased. “Hi.” His slow grin tossed my insides with the force of a powerful wave.

“Hey. Alice sent me. One of her kittens is lost, and she wondered if you might be willing to help me search for it. I’ve been calling out to it, but I’m beginning to think it’s not going to come out on its own.”

“A kitten? How old?”

“I’m not sure. Judging from the others, I’d guess around twelve weeks.”

He grimaced. “She lives close to the marsh. That’s not cat friendly territory.”

“Her other cats seem to do well there. She has a lot of them.”

He hung the blower up on a peg in the small garage then stepped back out and squinted into the sun. “We’ve got several more hours of daylight. The biggest risk is the marsh and woods. Let’s go back toward Alice’s and search from there. Chances are the kitten is hiding nearby, scared.”

“I thought I read that when a cat gets scared the flight response kicks in.”

“Definitely can. But there’s a good chance he’s still close by. Did you walk here?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll drive us back over. Then we’ll comb the woods. What’s the cat look like?”

“Dark gray, blue eyes. Do you know Alice’s cats?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Well, he looks like his mom, Shelby. According to Alice.”

I called out, “Here, kitty, kitty,” as we cut across the middle of the island. After calling a few times, I stopped, and we rode along in silence. We both kept our sight trained on the passing woods. The deeper into the island we drove, the louder the world under the tree canopy grew.

Tate broke the silence. “Is Alice out looking for it?”

I laughed. “No. She’s busy pickling. All these random veggies. To be honest, I’d think she’s trying to play matchmaker, except that her kitten really is missing.”

“You think she’d play matchmaker with us? Even with our age difference?”

I slid closer to him and touched his thigh. That got his attention.

“When are you going to get over the age difference? It’s not that big of a deal. Jacques Cousteau was thirty-six years older than his second wife.”

“No shit?”

“Yep. And they had two kids.”

“Thirty-six-year difference? Wow.”

“When you studied him, you don’t remember that?”

“You