chapiter Eleven

At that moment, Claire deemed it appropriate to provide Jack with an explanation.

"Curtis hitches rides to get around. He suffers from arthritis."

"And by the way," he added, "that run in the garden wore me out. Could you drive me back to the boathouse?"

Jack couldn't believe his ears.

"Excuse me? You want me to chauffeur someone who trespassed on private property?"

Claire gently placed a conciliatory hand on his arm.

"Just look at him, Jack. He looks so tired… Let's take him home so he can rest."

"Home?" Jack exclaimed.

"To his temporary accommodation," she clarified with a smile.

Jack nodded reluctantly, clearly annoyed.

"Fine! Wait here. I'll go get the car."

Once alone, Curtis sat down on the ground, and Claire perched on a large rock.

"He's a nice guy, but a bit too uptight, don't you think?" the old man asked.

"Yes, he's very serious," Claire agreed.

"And awfully jumpy. Petula should whip up one of her hawthorn brews for him. That'd relax him."

Claire smiled. Jack certainly wasn't the type for herbal remedies. Truth be told, even she was wary of her aunt's concoctions.

"He works in security," she explained. "His job is to secure the area for his boss."

Curtis nodded gravely, then asked:

"How long do you think I can stay here?"

Claire gave him a warm smile.

"Honestly? I think you'll be moving today. I'll ask Jack to load your cart into his trunk. You can stay in the town's shed for now, until we find a better option."

"And my cats?"

"Why didn't you leave them at the hotel?" Claire asked, slightly annoyed.

"No way! Bonnie would forget to feed them. I won't have them forced to survive on scraps."

Claire sighed. It was an interesting philosophy, coming from a man who survived on handouts.

"We'll pick them up later in my car."

At that moment, the Cadillac avoided a pothole and stopped right in front of them. Leaning out of the open window, Jack announced—furious—that he had just spotted half a dozen cats frolicking around the shed.

"I only have four, Claire! You know that!" Curtis protested. "This man has a flair for exaggeration. No wonder he's so tense…"

---

Claire picked up the bill and handed a note to the waitress. Then she checked her watch: 4:00 p.m. The hotel had noticeably filled up in the past hour—typical for a Friday afternoon. Tourists were beginning to pour onto the island.

"Are you finished?" she asked Chise and Bella.

The three of them had just enjoyed slices of apricot tart with a cup of aromatic tea.

"It was delicious, Claire," Bella declared. "I'd sell my soul for a proper cup of English tea."

And a bottle of Irish whiskey, Claire added silently. She was relieved that Bella didn't hold a grudge about being let go or the repeated scolding about her illegal crop. Truth be told, Bella didn't need a job. Her cottage had been paid off long ago, and her needs were modest. In fact, that very morning, Ingrid had offered her a few hours a week at the library. A perfect solution! Bella wasn't always sober, so better she was alphabetizing books than looking after children's safety.

"I'm glad you liked it. And you, Chise—happy?"

"It was exquisite," Chise replied, mimicking a posh accent.

She then gave a quick, theatrical curtsey before darting toward the exit. When Claire and Bella joined her outside the hotel, Chise was chatting with a group of friends. Upon spotting her mother, she ran over.

"Mom, can I spend the night at Alison's?"

"If her mother's okay with it, then I am too. I'll drive you there in a bit. First, I need to stop by the town hall and then swing by the shop to check if Sue Ann can cover until 9 tonight."

On Fridays and Saturdays, the island shops stayed open later to accommodate tourists. Taking Chise's hand, Claire headed down the avenue toward the town hall. It had been a busy day. After returning from the dolphin enclosure—she had eventually convinced Jack to drop off Curtis and his menagerie downtown—she had gone to the town hall to tackle paperwork, then returned to her shop. After that, it had been time to meet Chise after school and head to the hotel for tea with Bella.

What was Jack doing during all that time? She had no idea.

But she did know where he was now...

"Mom, isn't that the man who came to our house last night?" Chise asked.

"Yes, sweetheart, that's him."

Jack was standing outside the town hall, deep in conversation with Gail and Lou. He looked visibly tense as he examined the electric golf carts used by the island's law enforcement. Since the group hadn't noticed them yet, Claire took the opportunity to eavesdrop.

"These are really the official police vehicles on the island?" Jack asked, incredulous.

"They're perfectly adequate," Lou replied, his voice carrying the weight of years spent teaching in Florida.

Like many residents, he had retired to the island and now volunteered—specifically, with the police force. Gail, who held a state police diploma, nodded in agreement.

"We have sirens on the roof so people know we're law enforcement," she explained.

As she spoke, she did a brief demonstration. The sidewalk was crowded, so Claire and Chise remained unnoticed.

Crossing his arms, Jack said:

"Don't tell me you actually chase criminals in those things."

"Of course we do," Lou assured him, raising his eyebrows. "Besides, the crime rate here is so low…"

"Have you ever actually caught criminals with these carts?" Jack pressed.

"When people see us coming with our sirens, they let us through," Lou replied. "Would you like to go for a ride with Gail?"

"No, thank you," Jack said.

Clearly, he was holding back laughter, which Claire could easily see. He added:

"I've driven this kind of vehicle before. You can't go faster than six miles per hour."

"These ones are more powerful," Lou insisted. "They can reach almost twelve."