LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Three

      A white satin bow and a bouquet of red, white and blue balloons adorned the mailbox in front of the two-story house. Edmond didn’t have to check the address as he wedged his black sedan into a space by the curb. Even had the decorations not identified this as the wedding site, it was the only residence along this stretch of Pelican Lane, bordering the salt marsh and ending half a block away at the Pacific Ocean. If there’d been other homes here in the past, they must have been bought up and removed to restore the estuary.

      “Is this it?” His wedding date, her green eyes filled with uncertainty, regarded the rolling lawn and long gravel driveway packed with vehicles.

      “We’re here,” he confirmed. As she unstrapped the belt that she’d carefully positioned to avoid wrinkling her party dress, Edmond reached for his door handle. The ground was soft, and he’d prefer to carry her rather than risk dirtying her sparkly shoes.

      Although he’d been warned, he hadn’t been prepared for the pungent smell that struck his nostrils the instant he stepped out. His date noticed, too, of course. As he swung her from her seat and around to the roadway, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Pee-yoo.”

      “Want to borrow those nose clips?” He’d shown them to her earlier.

      She gave him a gap-toothed smile. “That might leave red marks, Uncle Eddie.”

      “We can’t have that!”

      “A fairy princess has to look perfect,” she agreed.

      “And so you do.” Taking her hand, he led seven-year-old Dawn along the street bordering the yard. There was no sidewalk.

      Behind the house and on either side stretched marshy land that, he’d read on the city’s website, provided refuge for hundreds of bird species as well as wildlife from rabbits to coyotes. As for vegetation and terrain, the site had mentioned pickleweed, cattails, mudflats and tidal sloughs. No wonder the place stank.

      Yet Geoff Humphreys’s wife, Paula, a second-grade teacher, had declared the estuary far more interesting than the sailboat-filled marina that gave Safe Harbor its name, or the enticing stretch of sandy beach on the west side of town. Edmond supposed that the educator had a valid perspective, but he was far from impressed. The house itself appeared inviting, though, with a wide front porch and clean white paint trimmed in blue.

      As he rang the bell, his niece pressed against his side. Dawn had become shy this past year, which was understandable in view of the turmoil in her family. With matters still unsettled, Edmond was doing his best to keep her spirits up.

      The door flew open. Two girlish faces, both topped by curly red hair, peered out eagerly. “Hi!” declared the taller one, whom he guessed to be about twelve. “I’m Tiffany, Jack’s niece. Well, he’s our cousin really, but he’s more like an uncle.”

      “I’m Amber,” said the younger one, who wore a matching blue dress with red-and-white trim.

      “Nice to meet you. I’m Edmond Everhart and this is Dawn.” He saw no reason to explain further.

      As they entered the house, Dawn indicated circlets of blue-and-white blossoms atop the girls’ heads. “What pretty flowers!”

      “We’re the flower girls,” Amber said. “See, we match!” She pointed to the blossoms festooning the banister of the nearby staircase.

      Tiffany regarded Edmond speculatively. “Everhart. Are you related to Melissa?”

      “Yes. Is she around?” He’d rather not provide details of his marital situation.

      “She’s in the kitchen.”

      “But the wedding’s that way.” Amber pointed to their right.

      “Thank you both.” Amused by the unconventional welcome, Edmond escorted Dawn into the high-ceilinged living room.

      Curio cabinets dominated the far wall, with a striped sofa positioned beneath the front windows, no doubt shifted to provide space in the center. Several dozen chairs, half of them already filled, faced a slightly elevated dining room at the rear. Its table had been moved to accommodate a flower-covered arch, while a boom box in one corner played an instrumental version of “We’ve Only Just Begun.”

      Edmond recognized some of the guests as hospital staff. In his law practice, he’d learned to quickly commit names and faces to memory, and he was trying to place as many as possible when a small hand tugged his sleeve. “What’s up, tiger?” he asked.

      “Let’s go see Aunt Lissa.” Dawn peered across the room. “That girl said she was in the kitchen.”

      “It would be rude to barge through the house.” Immediately regretting his phrasing, Edmond added, “I’m sure she’ll join us later. We can talk to her then.”

      “I want to see her now.” The girl’s lower lip quivered. “I miss Aunt Lissa.”

      “How well do you remember her?” Dawn had been only four when they divorced. Edmond’s sister Barbara had mentioned that Melissa had sent a birthday present for her daughter the following year, but Barb’s life was chaotic, with many changes of both physical and email addresses. To the best of his knowledge, the two women hadn’t stayed in touch.

      “She used to read to me. Why did she leave?” Dawn glared up at him accusingly, as if it was his fault she’d lost one of her small circle of loved ones. Well, perhaps it was, in part.

      “We

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