The Shell Shop Secrets


 
 
 
 
 Copyright © 2022 by Cindy Nichols
 All rights reserved.
 No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CONTENTS
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 1
 
 
 Chapter 2
 
 
 Chapter 3
 
 
 Chapter 4
 
 
 Chapter 5
 
 
 Chapter 6
 
 
 Chapter 7
 
 
 Chapter 8
 
 
 Chapter 9
 
 
 Chapter 10
 
 
 Chapter 11
 
 
 Chapter 12
 
 
 Chapter 13
 
 
 Chapter 14
 
 
 Chapter 15
 
 
 Chapter 16
 
 
 Chapter 17
 
 
 Chapter 18
 
 
 Chapter 19
 
 
 Chapter 20
 
 
 Chapter 21
 
 
 Chapter 22
 
 
 Chapter 23
 
 
 Chapter 24
 
 
 Chapter 25
 
 
 Chapter 26
 
 
 Chapter 27
 
 
 Chapter 28
 
 
 Chapter 29
 
 
 Chapter 30
 
 
 Chapter 31
 
 
 Chapter 32
 
 
 Chapter 33
 
 
 Chapter 34
 
 
 
 
 Also by Cindy Nichols
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER 1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Julia flipped off the television just as her daughter, Kelsey, finished her weather report from Fort Lauderdale. “Looks as if Hurricane Hazel might be skirting southeastern Florida, but we’re not quite sure yet.”
 Julia had been anxious to hear what the weather report was on her early morning walk as she’d been blown sideways more than once, and her calves were sore from walking against the wind on the way back. It was toward the end of hurricane season, but she’d lived there long enough to know that things were fairly unpredictable. Hearing her daughter confirm that they weren’t in any danger made her feel a little better.
 If only a little, though, as the plantation shutters outside the shell shop began to bang against the side of the building. She hadn’t had to put up the storm shutters once this season—she wasn’t even exactly sure where they were in John’s shed—but Dillon might know. And with the way he’d been acting lately, he might even help her put them up. But she could always ask her friend Ted to help, or her son-in-law, Joe.
 Echo’s happy bark announced Dillon’s arrival for breakfast just as Julia took the Spanish omelets off the stove and set the homemade salsa on the table.
 “Morning,” Dillon said when he walked in the kitchen and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “How’s the sink?”
 He’d worked on it a couple of times and Julia almost didn’t have the heart to tell him it was still leaking. She was just grateful that he’d tried, and it wasn’t bad enough to call a plumber.
 Before she could answer, he turned on the faucet, shut it off and ran his hand through his sun-bleached hair.
 “What the heck? It wasn’t leaking last time I was over.”
 Julia felt bad for him as it really seemed that he wanted to help. And she wanted him to be encouraged about it, too.
 “It goes for days without leaking. You did a good job. It’s just kind of random that it starts up again,” she said, hoping her little white lie sounded true.
 “Nice try, Mom,” he said, reaching for her laptop and opening it in front of him.
 She set down his omelet and a tortilla she’d warmed. “Fair warning, the salsa’s a little hot today,” she said.
 Dillon nodded as he looked up YouTube videos on leaky faucets. “Just the way I like it.”
 Julia gave Echo some of the leftover tortillas and was rewarded with his tail thudding happily against the cabinet. She reached down and gave him a scratch behind the ears.
 Dillon looked up and smiled. “I thought you were going to get a dog.”
 “If I knew for sure I’d get a good dog like Echo, I’d go ahead. But I haven’t been able to find one that’s just right, yet.”
 They both jumped and turned toward the shell shop at the sound of a loud thud.
 “What was that?” Dillon asked.
 Julia reached for the key to the shop and headed in that direction. “I don’t know, but the wind sure has picked up. It was hard to walk this morning. But Kelsey said that we’d be all right, that the hurricane wasn’t headed in this direction. And would likely drop back to a tropical storm.”
 Dillon raised an eyebrow. “Kelsey, huh? Have you been looking at projections? Last I saw, it was fifty-fifty.”
 “No, I get my weather from my daughter,” Julia said proudly, but wondered if maybe she should get online later and check.
 One of the plantation shutters had wiggled loose and was hanging by only a couple of bolts, and between the two of them they managed to secure it again.
 Dillon looked up at the palm trees that encircled the house and frowned. “Dad always said that when that palm tree right there bent in the wind down to the top of the manatee mailbox, it was time to put up the shutters.”
 Julia followed his gaze, suddenly remembering that John had several things like that to help him make big decisions.
 “You’re right. And it’s not there yet, so we should be okay.”
 Dillon glanced one more time at the palm tree, then at the mailbox as if he was trying to decide something, but Julia knew she was right. It wasn’t bad enough yet.
 “Nana, Nana, sticky buns?” Julia’s grandson Thomas said as he ran up the walk as soon as his mother lifted him out of the car seat. The toddler wrapped his arms around Julia