Parker’s right hand toyed with a small glass bowl of mixed nuts that sat on the counter. “Yes, lucky me. I do have an executive chef, a manager, and a bartender to oversee the really tough things, don’t I?”

  “Exactly my point,” said Theodosia. “So what do you handle?”

  He leaned forward until he was just a few inches away from her. “I handle the customers.”

  Theodosia could feel energy coursing between them. It felt good, electric almost.

  “Lately, however, I’ve been working on a very secret project,” Parker told her, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.

  “I’ll bet,” said Theodosia.

  “No, it’s true,” said Parker. “I’ve been trying to develop a signature drink. You know how Pusser’s Landing has the Painkiller and Andalucia has their sangria?”

  “Yes . . .” said Theodosia slowly.

  “Well, Solstice needs one, too.”

  “I suppose,” she allowed.

  “Hey,” said Parker. “Even your tea shop has signature blends, right?”

  Theodosia nodded. It was true. Customers were always asking for their Lemon Mint blend or their famous Lamp-lighter blend. And during the holidays their Berry Red blend pretty much flew off the shelves.

  “So how are you coming with this signature drink?” Theodosia asked.

  Parker gave a small shrug. “Please understand, there’s a serious amount of specialized research and development involved. In fact, I expect there’ll probably be at least six more months of grueling experimentation.”

  “Okay, smarty,” said Theodosia, “then how are you coming with your drink ideas for Saturday night?” Parker Scully had offered to serve a special cocktail for Orchid Lights. He’d mentioned a few ideas to her, but nothing was carved in stone yet.

  “Ah, that’s where you come in,” said Parker, reaching overhead for a pair of glasses. “I’ve actually got three drinks in mind, but I obviously need to winnow it down. Do a little focus-group testing.” He grabbed a silver cocktail shaker, dipped it into a bin of crushed ice. Then he reached for a bottle of dark rum, grabbed two more bottles, and started pouring. He snapped the top on the shaker, gave everything a quick, efficient shake, then poured out his concoction into stemmed glasses.

  “This is called a Black Orchid,” he told Theodosia. “Curaçao, rum, and grenadine.” He pushed a glass toward her. “Try it.”

  Theodosia took a sip. It was icy and tasty and just a little bit strong. “Nice,” she told him. “I really like the sweet undertones.”

  Parker held up a hand. “We’re not finished. You still have to see what’s stashed behind door number two and door number three.”

  Theodosia sat there, amused, as Parker turned his back to her and fussed at the back bar. There was the pop of a champagne cork and then, seconds later, a lovely pink drink was set in front of her.

  “I could get used to this,” she told him.

  Parker looked her straight in the eyes. “So could I.”

  Slightly flustered, Theodosia gazed down at her drink. “What do you call this one?”

  “This, my dear, is a Strawberry Shangri-la. I know it sounds dreadfully exotic, but it’s basically a scoop of strawberry sherbet with champagne poured over it.”

  Theodosia tried Parker’s iced concoction. It was, of course, incredibly delicious.

  “Careful,” warned Parker, “don’t sip too much at once. You’ll get a brain freeze.”

  “You mean like a Mr. Misty headache?” said Theodosia, laughing. “Like I got as a kid when I slurped too much ice cream or shaved ice?”

  “Yup,” said Parker. “But you like the drink. Right?”

  “It’s fantastic. But I’m pretty sure Drayton is planning to serve something called an ice angel. Which is basically iced tea with gelato.”

  “Okay,” said Parker. “So this might be a little too similar.”

  “Afraid so,” said Theodosia. She took another sip. “Even though it’s really quite wonderful.”

  “Okay,” said Parker. “On this last one I’m pulling out all the stops.” He busied himself, whipping up another drink. “This is my final offering, a Toasted Almond and Cream.

  Which is basically Kahlua, Irish Cream, Grand Marnier, and a splash of milk.” He raised a single eyebrow as Theodosia lifted her glass to taste it.

  “Excellent,” she told him, “but your first one gets my vote.”

  “The Black Orchid,” said Parker. “You’re sure you’re not just swayed by the name?”

  Theodosia pushed back a mass of curly auburn hair and smiled at him. “No,” she said, “it’s not just the name.”

  Parker brought out a bottle of wine then, a Rancho Sisquoc Pinot Noir, and a plate of tapas from the kitchen. They sat together at the bar, shoulders touching, talking quietly, until Toby Crisp, Parker’s executive chef, interrupted them.

  “Going to take off now, boss,” said Toby.

  “And you want me to move my car,” said Parker, easing off his bar stool.

  “I better get going, too,” Theodosia announced. She didn’t really want to leave, but she’d promised Drayton they’d get an early start tomorrow. After all, they were planning to drive almost as far as the Sumter National Forest.

  “We have to load that canoe,” Parker reminded her.

  “Thanks for zipping home to get it,” Theodosia told Parker as she followed him out into the alley behind Solstice.

  “No problem,” he told her. “It’s just been sitting in my garage gathering dust. Glad you want to toss it in the water. Although from what you tell me, it’s sounds like you’re just going to do some gentle paddling.”

  Parker reached up, unfastened a couple of lines on top of the canoe, then hefted the silver aluminum canoe onto his shoulders. Then, almost effortlessly, he flipped it onto the roof rack of Theodosia’s Jeep. Together they stretched bungee cords around the canoe’s thwarts then fastened them to the metal roof rack to hold everything in place.

  “Be careful,” Parker told her when they finished. “Don’t take any chances tomorrow. From what I’ve heard, that’s pretty wild territory you’re venturing into.”

  Theodosia smiled up at him. “I’ll be careful,” she promised. “Just gentle paddling. Nothing tricky.”

  Parker stared at her, a crooked smile on his boyish face. “My dear Theodosia, you strike me as someone who’s always smack-dab in the middle of the fray.”

  “Not always,” said Theodosia. Just lately.

  Parker put his arms around her and pulled her close. “Okay then, you’re a magnet for trouble. Well, maybe not a magnet. Maybe trouble just kind of finds you. Like a heat-seeking missile.”

  Theodosia laughed. Parker wasn’t all that far off. “How’s the cat?” she asked him.

  Parker gave a wry smile. “I visited Tiger Lily at the Riverbanks Zoo last week. She’s almost eighty pounds now.”

  “Kind of big for a house cat,” grinned Theodosia.

  “Hey, you know me,” said Parker. “Everything’s gotta be larger than life.”

  Theodosia was still grinning when he leaned down and kissed her.

  When she was just a couple of blocks from home, Theodosia suddenly remembered the little box of junk she’d stuck in the back of the Jeep. It was the stuff Bobby Wayne had remarked on earlier today. Stuff that included the little ceramic elephant. And the plane ticket, too.

  Theodosia was especially curious about the fact that Mark or Fayne might have bought a pair of elephants. Had it been some silly little shared joke between them? Or had the little ceramic elephant been a gift from Angie? Just knowing that answer would go a long way in clearing up the mystery of whether Mark had been involved with Fayne Hamilton.

  Pulling in front of the Bogard Inn, Theodosia sat in her Jeep and listened to the engine tick down. Should she go in? Should she bother Angie on what had to have been a thoroughly terrible day?

  Theodosia gazed at the Bogard Inn, where lamps seemed to burn in every window and old-fashioned lanterns lit the way up the winding walk. The inn itself was built in the rococo revival style and featured four large pillars in front and a fanciful assortment of scroll, shell, and foliage motifs adorning the windows and roofline.

  Yeah, I am going to go in.

  Following the curving walk, stepping from one puddle of light to another, the question of the ceramic elephant burned in Theodosia’s mind.

  Okay, I’m just going to ask her outright. Hand her the junk, then ask about the elephant.

  The young man standing behind the front desk greeted her with a smile. His horn-rimmed glasses and navy blazer gave him a slightly studious, schoolboy look. “Checking in?” he asked, eyeing the box in her arms.

  Theodosia waved him off. “I came to see one of your guests,” she told him. “Angie Congdon.”

  “Oh, sure,” said the young man. “I’ll ring her room.” His fingers punched in numbers as he looked back over at her. “Who shall I say is here?”

  “Tell her it’s Theodosia.”

  The young man smiled at her and nodded. “Mrs. Congdon?” he said into the phone. “This is Jeremy from downstairs. There’s a Miss Theodosia here to see you?” Jeremy listened for a few moments, then hung up. “Someone will be right down,” he told her.

  “Thank you, Jeremy.”

  “No problem.” He stood behind the desk, looking at sixes and sevens. Then he finally said, “We’ve got a big party checking in tonight and I’m hoping they show up before I get off at twelve.”

  “Otherwise, what?” asked Theodosia.

  “Wake up the owners?” said Jeremy. His smile morphed into a slightly frazzled look. “Except I’ll probably end up staying. Be a nice guy about it.” He glanced over at the stairway that curved down into the lobby. “Here comes your friend now, I think.”

  Theodosia’s first impression was that the woman who was descending the stairs looked like a slightly fuzzy Xerox copy of Angie Congdon. But as the woman crossed the lobby, her heels clacking loudly, Theodosia realized this was Angie’s sister. A woman who was a couple of years older than Angie, had a few gray hairs, was perhaps a little bit thinner.

  She was also angry. Extremely angry.

  “What on earth do you want now?” asked the sister in a voice that grated like gravel. Her eyes blazed, her mouth was pulled back in a snarl.

  “Excuse me,” said Theodosia, confused. “You’re Angie’s’s sister, Gwen?”

  “Gwyn,” snapped the woman. “And you really don’t have any business showing up here!”

  Theodosia was racking her brain, trying to figure out why Angie’s sister was so spitting mad at her. “Uh . . . perhaps you have me confused with someone else?” Theodosia ventured. With Delaine? Did Delaine cause some sort of problem?

  “You’re Theodosia, right?” spat out Gwyn. “Then you’re the one who advised the fire marshal to investigate Angie!”

  “I did no such thing,” protested Theodosia. Did I? No, of course not. I just answered a few of his questions. Truthfully at that.

  “As if my sister doesn’t have enough problems, now she’s under investigation for insurance fraud!” said Gwyn, her face contorting into a hard mask of anger. “And it looks like you’re the one pointing the finger!”

  17

  It was still dark when Theodosia stopped in front of Drayton’s home and tooted her horn. His small house, also located in Charleston’s historic district, had been built and occupied by a prominent Civil War doctor. Today the tidy wooden structure remained weathered, old fashioned, and slightly elegant. Not unlike Drayton himself.

  “You’re wearing a jacket to go canoeing in a swamp?” Theodosia asked Drayton as he clambered into her Jeep. She chuckled to herself. “Seems a little dressy.”

  “This is a bush jacket,” said Drayton, a trifle defensively. “One I ordered from L.L.Bean. Two-ply cotton duck with cargo pockets and a lined game pouch. Supposed to be water repellant, too.”

  “Well,” said Theodosia, glancing at him again as she pulled away from the curb. “I’ll have to admit it exudes a certain bwana-type charm.”

  “How did it go with Parker last night?” asked Drayton as they spun across the newly finished Cooper River Bridge.

  “Hmm?” said Theodosia, her cheeks suddenly turning a bright shade of pink. “Oh, good. Fine.”

  “I didn’t mean your personal relationship,” said Drayton. “I was referring to the drink choices. For Saturday night’s Orchid Lights. You did get around to selecting one, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, that,” said Theodosia. She’d been replaying the tape of last evening’s encounter with Angie’s sister in her mind and had almost blanked out the part with Parker and his drink choices. “We settled on a yummy cocktail called a Black Orchid.”

  “Sounds apropos,” said Drayton, stretching out his legs and leaning back. “Sophisticated name, probably very appealing to our patrons.” He tried to stifle a yawn. “Goodness, it’s early.”

  “Crank your seat back and take a nap,” suggested Theodosia. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

  “You don’t mind?” asked Drayton. He’d already slid his billed hat down over his eyes while one hand fiddled with the seat mechanism.

  “Doesn’t bother me at all,” said Theodosia. “Gives me time to think.”

  Two and a half hours later, the thin layer of cloud cover had burned off and sunlight dappled the road ahead of them. An hour earlier they’d passed through Edgefield, a town known for its pottery and peach harvest. Now they were nearing the town of Carmel, just outside Hickory Knob State Park on the Georgia–South Carolina border. They’d just topped a ridge and were descending toward the Savannah River and the thousands of acres of dams, waterways, lakes, and swamps that seemed to string together and were often referred to as South Carolina’s “freshwater coast.”

  As glorious as the scenery was, Theodosia found herself staring intently into her rearview mirror, snatching a glance whenever she could.

  “What?” asked Drayton drowsily. He’d been awake for a few minutes and had just seen Theodosia glance into her rearview mirror for about the fifth time.

  “There was a car back there that I thought was following us,” she told him.

  “Are you serious?” said Drayton. He squirmed about in his seat, anxious to check the road behind them. “What color?”

  “Um . . . white. Cream.”

  “I don’t see a thing.”

  “Neither do I anymore,” said Theodosia. “I guess it must have turned off.”

  “You’re just being paranoid,” said Drayton. “In light of everything that’s happened.”

  “I’ll get over it,” replied Theodosia, deciding that some time today she had to tell Drayton about the ceramic elephant, the fire marshal’s probing questions, and the outrage expressed by Angie’s sister, Gwyn. But not right now. Not when they were almost at their destination and about to embark on a swamp journey.

  “You know where we’re going?” asked Theodosia. “I mean precisely?”

  “Of course I do,” said Drayton. He had unfurled a little hand-drawn map and was studying it carefully. “Tommy Draper, one of the Orchid Society members, gave me explicit directions. Said this was one of his premier collecting spots.”

  “And this is on private property?” asked Theodosia. “So it’s perfectly legal?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” replied Drayton.

  “I take it you just recently got the map from your friend?” asked Theodosia.

  “Oh no,” replied Drayton. “It’s been maybe two . . . three years.”

  Theodosia’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “So it might not be such an all-fired hot spot anymore,” she ventured. “Things could have changed depending on local conditions. Dry spells . . . or wet spells?”

  “I suppose,” said Drayton. “Still, this is supposed to be the best area.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Theodosia. “Give me a landmark.”

  “We should be passing Blazetree Corners.”

  “That was a half mile back.”

  “Okay,” said Drayton. He studied his map again, glanced out the side window, looked suddenly startled. “Oh, goodness me, here’s our turn! Hang a right! We’re just coming up on County Road Ten.”

  Cranking the wheel hard, Theodosia made the turn, and took the Jeep down a jouncing, gravel road.

  “Exciting,” said Drayton, hanging on for dear life.

  “Isn’t it,” said Theodosia, praying her shock absorbers would hold out.

 

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