The Mermaid Collector Read Online Free Page B

already returned to her shed. Buzz squinted up at the sky, then gestured to the woodshop’s open door. “Let’s get out of the sun a minute.” Tom followed Buzz inside, his lungs filling at once with the spicy smell of wood, so sharp his eyes watered.
    “Tessie’s working on a big commission.” Buzz pointedto the large sculpture at the other end of the room where Tess had returned, moving a chisel over a newly outlined curve. “They’re going to put her mermaid in the library. Going to have a big unveiling this weekend.”
    Tom offered up a brief but polite smile, feeling dim. He’d thought it was a dolphin. No wonder she’d been studying herself. Breasts on a dolphin. Idiot.
    “She’s crazy talented, Tom. You should see the stuff she’s done.”
    “Don’t believe a word of it,” Tess said without turning. “He’s hopelessly biased.”
    “Damn straight.” Buzz grinned, then looked back at Tom. “Long drive for you, I’ll bet. Traffic must have been hell.”
    “It was all right.” Tom glanced compulsively back to Tess before he answered, the surveys becoming a nervous tic. He couldn’t stop watching her. That shimmering blade dangling over her bare toes made him nervous. What sort of person worked barefoot with sharp tools? And why should he care? He just wanted the damn keys already; he just wanted a shower, a bed, to be out of the car for more than ten minutes. He wanted to stop sweating. There was one thread of sweat in particular that was winding around his left shoulder blade and driving him insane.
    “…Mermaids.”
    “What?” Tom swerved his gaze back to Buzz, lost. Christ, how long had the man been talking?
    “I said
everything
’s about mermaids this time of year,”Buzz repeated pleasantly. “You’re lucky, getting here just in time for the festival.”
    Tom saw Tess glance at him over her shoulder, her survey brief but pointed.
    He cleared his throat, wondering what about any of this could be considered lucky.
    “You know,” he said, “I’d just really like to get those keys.”
    THE TWO MEN WALKED UP the driveway, through a maze of standing bird feeders, and into the red trailer.
    “Excuse the mess.”
    Piles of folded linens covered almost every surface in the kitchen—the counter, the chairs. There was even a pile of washcloths on each of the four range tops.
    “I’m never this disorganized,” Buzz said, relocating a stack of bath towels to the dining table. “Usually I got all the cottages set up weeks in advance. But this year…I don’t know. Losing Frank sort of took the wind out of my sails, I guess.” Buzz pulled down a coffee tin from the windowsill above the sink, tilted it, and reached in. After a moment of fishing, he retrieved a loaded key chain and handed it to Tom.
    “Now don’t let all those keys freak you out,” Buzz said. “Chances are half of them don’t even go to anything anymore, but Frank figured you should have them all, just incase. I labeled the important ones—you’ll see. The front door and the padlock for the lighthouse. Those old crows at the historical society might have gone and changed the lock—who knows? Maybe Frank warned you; they thought they were in line for the keeper’s house too, so don’t be surprised if they give you hell for a while over it.”
    Tom rolled the stack of keys in his palm, fanning them out with his thumb and seeing the tiny strips of masking tape on several. “They’ve already been in touch actually.”
    “Figures.” Buzz glanced to the window, a thought sparking. “Your brother waiting in the car?”
    Tom pocketed the collection of keys. “He’s not here yet,” he said, his voice unnecessarily firm, as if he were trying to reassure himself more than Buzz Patterson. “He’ll be here soon.”
    “Well, in case you’re wondering”—Buzz smoothed his beard—“I’m the only one in town who knows what happened. Why you’re here, I mean. How Frank knew you.”
    “He didn’t know us,” Tom