Free Raquel Byrnes by Whispers on Shadow Bay

with women in flowing skirts and gauzy blouses. I did a double take. They looked like a clan of wandering carnival performers. How had I not noticed before?
    “I, uh, no thank you,” I managed. “I’m looking for something warm. A coat?”
    She eyed me and then pointed out the door with a long withered arm. Gold bangles jangled from her thin wrist.
    “Across the way,” she said. “You will find something over there. Tell Yasmine I sent you.”
    I thanked her and headed to the shop.
    An old woman, who could be the cousin of the glassware woman, they looked so similar, sat on a stool by the front counter. She wore a babushka over her gray hair as well. A gold tooth peeked out from her painted lips when she smiled.
    “Help you?”
    “Yes, uh, the glass lady across the way sent me,” I said. “I need a coat.”
    Yasmine toddled around the counter, leaning on a carved wood cane as she came to me. Her head barely reached my shoulders. She reached out, took the hem of Simon’s sweater in her wrinkled fingers, and rubbed the material between them, muttering.
    “This will not do, copil ,” she said and led me towards a wooden rack. “How do you not have a coat out here?”
    “I’m new,” I said. “Just moved here from California.”
    And apparently unable to dress properly.
    “California?” She helped me try on a pea coat. “You are the new companion for Mr. Hale?”
    “Companion?” The coat was warm, but scratchy. “I’m his caregiver, yes. How did you know?”
    “This island is very small.” A frown pulled as she helped me out of the coat. “No secret stays hidden here for long.”
    “Well, I don’t think I was meant to be a secret,” I said and turned to slip into another proffered coat. Shrugging into it, I felt the coarse collar irritate my neck and shook my head.
    “A beautiful woman once again living at Shadow Bay Hall?” Yasmine clicked her tongue, pulled the coat off. “I was told Tuttle hired a male nurse.”
    “Who told you?”
    “This will not do for you,” she muttered, ignoring my question. “Your frame is so…”
    She took a knitted shawl from the wooden hangar and pulled it onto my shoulders. The thick, blood-red yarn felt wonderful on my neck. I looked in the mirror on the wall and smiled.
    “It’s beautiful.” I took a swath of it in my hand and rubbed it against my cheek. “So soft.”
    “Hand knit,” Yasmine said. “For you, I give it to you for sale.”
    “For sale?” I looked for a tag and found none. “Really?”
    “The wind off the Sound is very cold up in that big house, no?” She walked around the counter, punched on the ivory keys of an old brass register and it dinged. “Too many things up there that are cold.”
    “Pardon?” I looked up from digging in my purse.
    She slipped a receipt across the counter, a strange look on her face. “What is your name?”
    “Uh, Rosetta.” I glanced at the price and handed her some money. “Rosetta Ryan.”
    She nodded, took a pencil from the cup near the register, and wrote my name down on a piece of paper. She folded the paper, closed her eyes, and muttered something under her breath. She slipped the paper in the pocket of her skirt and looked at me as if it was normal to do such a thing.
    “You need another shawl?”
    “I—I.” I shook my head and smiled. “No, thank you.”
    Sensing I’d been dismissed, I left the shop feeling a little thrown by her odd behavior. Tiny brass bells jangled over a door a few yards down catching my attention. A wooden shingle hung from the roof on black chains, the word Apothecary painted in sweeping script across the surface.
    I pushed through the door, and a wave of sweet and spicy scents greeted me. I smiled, breathing it in, and took a turn around the small shop. Countless glass jars lined wooden shelves filled with dried herbs and teas of every color. Over my head, bunches of flowers hung from the ceiling on lengths of twine. Sheaves of lavender, chamomile, and other