“Wait just a minute!” I said. “That's no answer! How could I possibly iron my own hair even if I wanted to, which I don't? ”

  Nick looked at his watch and sighed. “Okay, if you're still ticked off because you lost your flat iron I'm willing to iron your hair for you if we can do it in the next 15 minutes. What's your tolerance for pain?”

  “You are such an impossible person! I don't need you to iron my hair! I'll order a flat iron online right now. About what time of day do the overnight deliveries get here?”

  “Usually in the afternoon every two weeks.”

  “Every two weeks! You're kidding!”

  “Hey, this is an island. We don't get daily package delivery,” Nick said. “But the last delivery was almost a week ago, so you might get your iron in about ten days.”

  “But I'm leaving in two weeks!”

  “Look, Marlene said they sell them on Golden Happiness Isle, so if you can wait till tomorrow I'll buy one for you I when I pick up your aunt's guests. Problem solved. Are we good then?”

  “No, we're not good! I don't appreciate you gossiping with the doughnut woman about my relationships!”

  “She asked! It'd be rude if I didn't tell her what I knew.”

  “You don't know anything about me and Walter!”

  “I know that he dumped you for some cheerleader, and if want my opinion you should be happy about it. You don't want any part of a 45 year old man who dumps you for a 14 year old girl,” Nick said. He shook his head. “That's messed up, Teri.”

  “Walter is 35 and he's dating a cheerleaders' instructor, not a cheerleader! She's actually older than he is!”

  “That's not the way I heard it. Being in denial about the guy isn't gonna help you get over him.” Nick climbed onto his motorcycle. The roar of the engine would have drowned out all the names that I wanted to call him, so I watched him leave without saying anything else.

  Somehow it seems unfair that such an irritating person could be so good-looking. Oh, well, at least there wouldn't be any reason for me to have to see him again till I left the island. Or so I thought.

  Chapter 2

  The next afternoon Aunt Sam, Dodie and I were sitting at the kitchen table drinking iced peach tea while we waited for the guests to arrive. I understood they were supposed to be here by noon but that hour came and went with no sign of them.

  It was almost one when Aunt Sam looked at her watch. “I won't complain about the Maxwell party being late, but I do wonder what's keeping them,” she said.

  “I'll go out on the porch and see if I can spot them coming down the road,” I said.

  As I stood up, the door opened suddenly and Brody Hicks strode in. I was startled and knocked over the salt shaker, spilling some salt on the table.

  “Quick, throw some salt over your left shoulder!” Brody cried.

  “What?”

  “Hurry, Teri, do it right now!” Dodie said. “You have to do it right away!”

  I threw salt over my left shoulder and Brody heaved a sigh and said, “All right then.”

  Aunt Sam said, “Some people- a few people- believe that if you spill salt it gives the devil an opening to harass you, so you have to throw some salt over your left shoulder to chase him away.”

  “Well, no disrespect intended, Miss Sam, but I believe there's a lot more than harassment involved here,” said Brody. “As you remember, when Judas spilled salt at at the Last Supper it didn't go too well for him afterwards.”

  “Judas spilled salt at the Last Supper? I've never read that in the Bible,” I said.

  “That's not the kind of thing they'd put in the Bible,” said Dodie. “It's details like that what come down to us in the lore, word of mouth through all them centuries.”

  A sensible person would have dropped the subject right then, but I was curious. “How would throwing salt over your shoulder stop the devil from whatever he planned to do?”

  “Why, I expect he'd go away because it would sting his eyes,” Dodie replied. “I've had salt in my eyes before and, believe me, it's no fun!”

  “You can learn a lot from studying folklore like I do, Teri,” Brody said. “I can lend you one of my books on the subject while you're down here; it makes good beach readin'. Now, I bet you didn't know that it's bad luck to shake hands over a threshold! Now, on the other hand, you can attract good luck plus keep nightmares away if you nail a horseshoe over your bed. You see, there are seven nail holes in a horse-shoe and that's a lucky number, plus if you hang it with the open end up, good luck can come in that opening.”

  “So do you really think all that is true?” I asked.

  “Hell, I know it is! A while back I was sleepin' and one of the nails in the horseshoe over my bed come loose so it was a hangin' upside down, so all the good luck turned bad. Sure enough, the next thing that happened was the other nail gave out and the horseshoe hit me on the head and almost split my skull.”

  “He could'a been killed if he hadn't been drinking his wheat grass smoothie every day,” Dodie added. “The calcium in wheat grass thickens the bones.”

  “Now, another thing,” Brody continued. “You should be aware that you ought never to put a pair of new shoes you've never worn under your bed or you'll have bad luck.”

  “I don't know about that but if you have someone else's shoes under your bed you could get very lucky!” Aunt Sam said.

  “Why, Miss Sam, I can't believe you said that!” Dodie gasped.

  “It's almost one o'clock,” I said. “Do you think we should call Nick to see when he's bringing Brent Maxwell's group here?”

  “Oh, don't bother. I picked them up myself,” Brody replied.

  “Where are they then?” Aunt Sam asked.

  “They're a settin' out in your driveway right now. I just come in to see if you were ready to sign them in.”

  “Brody Hicks, go out there and bring them in! It's 94 degrees out there! I hope they won't all have heat stroke by now.”

  “Okay, will do. But I forgot to mention while we was on the topic of salt, puttin' some in your ice tea will make you immune to rheumatism and-”

  “Go, Brody! Right now!” Aunt Sam yelled. He went. For a small person Aunt Sam has a very loud voice.

  I followed her into the front room to greet the guests while Dodie prepared glasses of peach tea for them. When I opened the front door I saw the group moving up the front walk, led by a man who I assumed must be Brent Maxwell. He looked to be about sixty and had thick brown hair which had turned silver around the temples, a dark, unnatural tan and a dazzling white smile. His clothes were flashy but tastefully expensive, and he was accompanied a much-younger platinum blonde who was also best described as flashy but tastefully expensive. The blonde was occupied with a neon pink phone with rhinestones stuck all over it, and didn't look up when we opened the door to greet them.

  “Why, Samantha, I do believe you look younger every year!” Brent Maxwell cried, holding his arms wide as he hopped lightly up onto the porch. He gave Aunt Sam a friendly hug followed by a very continental kiss on both cheeks. I had never seen anyone do that other than in French movies.

  “You look like you've been dipping into the fountain of youth yourself, Brent!” Aunt Sam laughed. “How have you been?”

  “Never better! My life has been filled with happiness since we last met, in large part because the heavens parted and sent this lovely angel to brighten my world. Let me introduce you to Dawn, my soulmate.” Brent Maxwell took the blonde woman's hand and kissed it dramatically.

  “I'm so pleased to meet you, Dawn,” Aunt Sam said. “I hope you'll enjoy your stay here.”

  Dawn looked up briefly and gave a half-smile before returning her full attention to her phone.

  Undeterred, Aunt Sam continued, “Brent, this is my niece Teri. She'll be here during your stay and lending a hand.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Maxwell,” I said. “Good to meet you too, Dawn.”

  “Brent! Call me Brent, please! I've never been one for formality!” Brent Maxwell said. He shook my hand but I was spared the French movie treatment. Dawn gave no indication that she noticed I existed.

  “Teri, will you give everyone their room keys?” Aunt Sam asked. “I have them laid out on the counter in the foyer.”

  “I'd be happy to,” I said. I found the keys on the counter and saw that each one had been laid on top of an index card with the name of the guest for the corresponding room. As I picked up the keys for Brent and Dawn's rooms, a thin, stylishly dressed woman of about 40 with perfectly coiffed chocolate hair strode up to the counter and held out a french-manicured hand.

  “I'll take the children's keys so they don't lose them,” she said, “and you can give me mine, too. I'm Vanessa.” I saw Aunt Sam discreetly hold up two fingers to indicate to me that this was Wife #2.

  “Ho ho! Barely in the door and already taking charge!” Brent Maxwell laughed. “What would I do without you, Vanessa?”

  “We won't get into that,” Vanessa replied. Looking at me she said, “Careful around Brent, my dear. He has an eye for young blondes, although you look too intelligent to be his type.” She rolled her eyes toward Dawn.

  Brent Maxwell laughed again, but it was more strained this time. “What a kidder, that Vanessa,” he said. If Dawn had noticed Vanessa's insult, she didn't show it, and remained fixated to her phone.

  Brody appeared in the doorway, designer bags in both hands and another around his neck, and a pair of suitcases under his arms with two more dragging along behind him. Apparently Brody was not the kind to take two trips when one would do. As he squeezed through the door, one of the suitcases fell out from under his arm and clattered loudly on the oak floor.

  “Be careful with those bags, clumsy!” Vanessa snapped. “You don't just throw Gucci around like that!”

  A short full-figured woman with auburn hair in a classic Karen cut stepped in behind Brody and said, “Don't mind her; you know how cranky old people get when they miss their nap.” Aunt Sam held up three fingers- Wife #3 incoming.

  “If you want to let him break your trailer park junk, be my guest, Kristi!” Vanessa said. “But I have important and valuable possessions in my luggage!”

  “Like your embalming fluid?” Kristi shot back.

  “You like age jokes, do you? And how long have you been telling people you're 29, dearie?”

  “How long have you been telling people you're a size 2?”

  “If you want to be a bitch, I can-”

  “Girls, girls! Let's behave for once, shall we?” Brent Maxwell cut in. “I have to take them everywhere but I can't take them anywhere!”

  Vanessa snatched up her key and stalked over to the sofa in the sitting room without another word. Kristi walked up to the counter and smiled at me. “You must be the niece, right? The one from Ohio? Good for you for dumping that bum... Waldo? Wilfred? Anyway, good for you; no one with any sense puts up with a cheater.” She nodded toward Brent.

  Good heavens! Did my break-up with Walter somehow make national news? Before I could answer, a sullen-looking young man with sandy hair that reached almost to his shoulders slouched into the room with his hands in his pockets.

  “Ah, the heir to the throne!” Brent Maxwell said. “Gavin, come say hello to Samantha and her niece.”

  “Why is it so damn hot?” Gavin grumbled, passing everyone without so much as a look and plopping down in a chair next to Vanessa. “First that crappy van and now this place! Hasn't anybody heard of air conditioning down here?”

  “Gavin, quit being an ass,” Vanessa said.

  “Get off my back, witch.”

  In the midst of all this I began smell the distinct aroma of whiskey, and I turned to see the source of the smell stagger in the door. He looked to be about Brent Maxwell's age, but not nearly as well-preserved. He wore a white hat and a loud floral-print shirt.

  “I'm here! No photos or autographs, please! Haw haw haw!” the man boomed. No one else shared in his laughter, but he didn't seem to mind. He weaved unsteadily to the counter and said, “Charles Gleason, Esquire, my dear! I'm the lawyer that keeps this traveling circus out of jail! Haw haw haw!”

  I handed him his key. “Uh, nice to meet you, Mr. Gleason,” I said.

  “Ah, my old room! Too bad I only get to occupy it once a year. I wouldn't mind spending more time down here. Hell, I'd sleep right out on the beach if it weren't for the no-see-ums.”

  “No-see-ums?” I wondered how much whiskey he had put away.

  “Haven't you heard of them? They're those tiny little flying things that come at a person in a swarm and before you know it they're all over you. You're the one from Ohio, right? Brody told me about Wilmont; bad business, bad business. But anyway, you must remember that World Series game up in Cleveland several years ago where the pitcher got swarmed by no-see-ums and couldn't pitch.” He took out his phone. “It made all the headlines; I have a picture in my phone somewhere. Just a minute...”

  “Really, don't bother,” I said. “I'll take your word for it.”

  Meanwhile the argument in the sitting room was rolling right along. “Gavin, if you were my son, I'd take you over my knee and spank you!” Vanessa said. “I've half a mind to do it anyway!”

  “You've got half a mind all right,” Gavin muttered.

  “If you think you can talk to me like that-”

  “Oh, leave him alone, Vanessa!” Kristi cut in. “Don't you ever get tired of playing the harpy?”

  “Of course you'd take Gavin's side; you're both overgrown children!”

  “Here we go,” Charles Gleason said. He handed me the phone and I saw of a picture of what looked like a raw misshapen steak.

  “Um, this doesn't look like a baseball game,” I said.

  “Oops! That's a picture of a diseased spleen from a malpractice case I worked on last year. I accidentally scrolled down with my thumb when I handed you the phone. Where did that picture go...”

  “Well, if you want to try spanking me, I'll slap you so hard it'll knock off your false eyelashes, and your false nails, and false teeth-” Kristi snapped at Vanessa.

  “Oh, of course you'd want to fight~ You can take the girl out of the trailer park but you can't take the trailer park out of the girl!”

  “Hey, look everybody! There's gonna be a cat fight!” Gavin laughed.

  “Show some respect, young man!” Charles Gleason roared. “If you're going to sponge off your father at your age, you can at least mind your manners!”

  “You've got some nerve talking about sponging!” Gavin said. “How much Scotch did you soak up in the airport bar?”

  “If you're going to act like animals, I'm not going to stay here and put up with it!” Vanessa shouted.

  “That's music to my ears!” Kristi said.

  Suddenly, Brent Maxwell stood up in the center of the room and cried, “My Sneaky!!”

  Everyone stopped and stared at him except for Dawn, who continued playing with her phone.

  “My Sneaky! Where is it?!” Maxwell repeated.

  “I gave it to Kristi at the dock so I could find our tickets,” Vanessa said. “Don't tell me your short attention span made you lose it somewhere, my dear.”

  “No, bitch, I didn't lose it,” Kristi replied. “I handed it to Gavin on the boat so that I could get out Brent's sunscreen, because you're addled old brain couldn't remember to do that one simple thing.”

  “Why would you have Gavin hold on to my most precious possession?! You know what a klutz he is!” Brent thundered.

  “Er, what's a sneaky?” I asked.

  “What's a Sneaky?! Why, it's only the highest award that can be given to an author of espionage fiction! I worked hard and long for more than 30 years before I was awarded this prestigious honor, and now these barbarians have lost it! I should make you all pay your own way back home!”

  “Why don't you ever pack the stupid thing in your suitcase like a normal person would?” Gavin snapped. “Then we wouldn't have to go through this melodrama every time we travel!”

  “And have the airlines lose it? The Sneaky is irreplaceable!” Brent yelled. “Where did you lose it, you bumbler?!”

  “I didn't lose it! I gave it to Dawn! I didn't want to lug it around!”

  “Dawn, love of my life, what did you do with my Sneaky?” Brent asked through gritted teeth.

  Dawn looked up and shrugged. “I dunno. The gold on it was turning my hands green so I put it under the bench on the boat. Ask the boat guy, I guess,” she murmured, turning back to her phone.

  Brent Maxwell's face was so red I thought his head might explode, but just then Brody walked in the front door holding a trophy featuring the golden figure of a man in a fedora and trench coat.

  “Hey folks, Nick found this funny flasher trophy on the boat!” he chortled. “Get a load of this thing, huh? You ever seen anything like it?”

  “A flasher! You hear that, Brent? Haw haw haw!” Charles laughed.

  “That should call it the Creepy instead of the Sneaky!” Gavin said.

  Brent snatched the trophy away from Brody. “Give me that! How dare all of you be so careless with my Sneaky, just because you haven't the brains to appreciate it! And just what have you ingrates ever won, eh?! I should wash my hands of the lot of you!” With that he stalked out of the room and stomped his way up the stairs.

  As the others stared at each other, Aunt Sam stepped forward and announced, “Dodie will show all of you to your rooms now. Please enjoy your stay and let her know if you need anything.” Then she turned to me and whispered, “Come on, Teri. Let's catch up with Brent.”