1
MARGO
The drive back from Cedar Key felt quieter than the drive there had.
On the way out, they had all been running on urgency and questions, with too many possibilities chasing each other around June’s car. On the way back, the night seemed to press in closer, and every answer they had found only seemed to open the door to three more questions. Margo sat in the back seat, looking out at the dark ribbon of road ahead, while Rad drove with both hands steady on the wheel and June sat beside him, lost in thought.
The closer they got to Sandpiper Shores, the tighter Margo’s chest felt.
The sign for town came into view, lit by headlights, and before she could think better of it, she leaned forward between the seats.
“Do you mind if we go past Teacups?” Margo asked June quietly.
Rad’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “Is that wise?”
Margo met his gaze in the mirror. “I need to see it.”
For a moment, Rad said nothing. Then June turned slightly in her seat and looked back at Margo, her expression softening.
“I don’t mind,” June said. “If you want to go, we’ll go.”
Margo nodded, grateful for that small mercy. “Thank you.”
Rad didn’t argue again. He just changed direction and headed toward Harbor Street.
By the time Teacups came into view, Margo’s pulse had started to pound. From the front, it didn’t look as awful as she had feared. The old weathered blue clapboard building still stood there with its white trim and familiar shape, as if it had merely gone to sleep early. The porch and front windows were dark. The striped awning was still in place. At a glance, a stranger might not even have known anything had happened.
But Margo knew better.
She stared through the windshield, barely breathing.
“It doesn’t look too bad from here,” Margo whispered.
“That’s because the worst of it was inside and toward the back,” June said gently.
“I want to go in.” Margo kept staring at the building that held her heart and soul.
Rad slowed the car and glanced at her again in the mirror. “It’s dark, Margo. We’re not going to see much.”
June shifted in her seat. “Carmen keeps flashlights in the trunk. She has what she calls her breakdown kit.”
That earned the faintest curve of Rad’s mouth. “Of course she does.”
“She believes in being prepared for everything from a flat tire to the end of civilization,” June replied dryly.
“And right now, I for one,” Margo murmured, her eyes never leaving Teacups, “am very grateful for that.”
Rad pulled up near the barrier, where officers stood guard by the cordoned-off section of the street. One of them stepped forward, recognized Rad immediately, and after a brief exchange, lifted the tape enough to let them through.
Rad parked near the front, and the three of them got out into the warm night air.
The smell hit Margo before anything else did. Not the sharp bite of active fire, but the lingering aftermath of it. Wet ash. Burned wood. A bitter, stale heaviness that didn’t belong anywhere near her café.
Margo folded her arms around herself for a second.
June opened the trunk and pulled out three heavy flashlights. Rad took one, handed another to Margo, and June kept the third.
“Carmen really does like to come prepared.” Rad gave a low whistle. “I should make my grandmother do this.”
