Finn, who had been investigating the scents around the empty window display, pads over and places his large paw on my knee. His dark eyes hold something I can’t quite read.
“Maybe it has something to do with your father’s conservation work?” Klara suggests. “He did ruffle quite a few feathers back in the day, stopping that resort development.”
The resort. I had almost forgotten. Ten years ago, a developer had planned to build a massive complex on the north end of the beach, threatening the delicate ecosystem and the town’s character. Dad had led the opposition, rallying the community and ultimately succeeding in blocking the project. Some business owners had supported the development, seeingpotential profit in the increased tourism. Dawson among them, which had contributed to their falling out.
“That was a decade ago,” I say. “Ancient history.”
Klara raises an eyebrow. “Not to everyone, perhaps.”
A thought occurs to me. “The driftwood Finn found yesterday . . . it seemed familiar, like it belonged with the star somehow.”
“Where is it now?”
“In my coat pocket.”
I retrieve the piece from my coat hanging by the door. In the morning light, its similarity to the central piece of my star is even more apparent.
“This is strange,” I murmur, turning the wood over in my hands. “It’s almost like someone wanted me to find this.”
Klara looks skeptical. “That’s a bit of a stretch, Marnie. Driftwood washes up all the time.”
“Maybe.” Though I can’t shake the feeling that everything is connected. The star, the note, the driftwood piece Finn found. All of it somehow tied to my father.
The shop door opens, and Sid returns, holding a cardboard cup from K’s Korner Kafé. “I thought you might need this,” he says, placing the coffee on the counter.
I eye him. “Thank you. That’s . . . surprisingly thoughtful.”
He shrugs. “I also wanted to say that if there’s anything I can do to help find your star, just ask. The auction won’t be the same without it.”
“Why would you care?” I can’t help asking. “You’ve spent years trying to outshine me.”
Sid has the audacity to look peeved. “Competition is one thing, theft is another. Besides, that piece represents your father’s legacy. Everyone respected Samuel, even those of us who occasionally butted heads with him.”
For the first time, I consider that Sid’s rivalry might be more professional than personal. Something in his expression seems genuine.
“I appreciate that,” I say.
After he leaves, Klara gives me a knowing look. “Well, that was interesting.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” she says with a small smile. “Just observing.”
I roll my eyes. “Focus, Klara. Missing star, threatening note, remember?”
“Right, right.” She becomes serious again. “So what’s your plan?”
I glance down at the note again. “I need to figure out what ‘the past’ refers to. Someone thinks I’m digging into something I shouldn’t be, but I have no idea what.”
“Start with Dawson,” Klara suggests. “He and your dad had that mysterious falling out. Maybe it’s related.”
I nod. “And I should look through Dad’s old papers. Maybe there’s something there that could explain this.”
“What about the police?” Klara presses.
“If I find something concrete, I’ll go to them,” I promise. “But right now, all I have is a missing craft project and a vague note. Let me dig a little first.”
Klara doesn’t look happy, but she nods. “Just be careful, okay? Whoever took the star managed to get in and out without leaving a trace. That shows planning.”
