Free Raquel Byrnes by Whispers on Shadow Bay Page A

grasses, dried and arranged in a large basket, sat on a nearby counter. I wandered to a table set with brass bowls. They held flower petals and shells. I ran my fingertips through the potpourri feeling the soft rustle of delicate dry flowers.
    “Looking for something in particular?”
    I turned towards the velvety voice. A woman with long raven locks, ruby lips, and dark almond eyes leaned on her elbows over the counter.
    “I’m not sure,” I said and walked over. “It’s just so wonderful in here.”
    “Well, I thank you.” Her gorgeous features lit up with a smile.
    She wore the same type of shawl that I did, but black with small silver beads hanging off the fringe. Her page-boy blouse skimmed a shapely figure. A silver butterfly dangled on a chain around her slender neck.
    My hand went to the bun at the nape of my neck. Where I was fair haired and light despite my tan, she was dark and exotic. She extended her hand.
    “I’m Nalla,” she said.
    “Rosetta,” I answered and shook her hand. Every finger had a ring on it, even her thumb. “I’m working up at Shadow Bay Hall. I’m the caregiver for Mr. Hale.”
    Compared to the relative anonymity of California culture, this felt like an invasion of privacy.
    “What ails you, Rosetta?” Nalla asked. “You look tired.”
    “I’m having trouble sleeping, actually. Do you have anything that might help me with that? Something stronger than chamomile?”
    “Yes, of course.” She came around the counter, and I heard a faint tinkling when she walked. A long skirt floated over her bare feet. A wreath of tiny bells encircled her ankle. “Follow me.”
    We made our way to the back of the shop past baskets on the floor filled with long-stemmed branches and loofahs. She stopped at a wooden counter set against the far wall. Glass jars with silver lids, pots corked with metal stoppers, and slender colored bottles sat on crocheted doilies. She reached up to a shelf on the wall and pulled down a small clear jar with a rubber gasket lid. She undid the metal fastener, breathed in slowly with her eyes closed, and then handed me the jar with a smile.
    “What is it?” I sniffed and smiled. “Goldenseal.”
    “You know your tea.” She raised a thin brow. “Are you a student of nature?”
    “A botanist,” I said. “So…sure.”
    She chuckled, a tinkling laugh that lightened the unsettled feeling that weighed down my stomach.
    “Goldenseal tea.” She reached under the counter, pulled out a small scoop and wiggled it in front of me. “I’ll put some in a sachet for you. Some of this at bedtime will help you sleep.”
    She pulled a brass scale over and set a small bowl on one end. Then she opened a wooden box, chose a small metal weight, and set it on the opposite side. I handed her the jar and watched her work.
    “Thank you for your help.”
    She nodded, scooped some tea onto the bowl, and squinted at the scale.
    “Why are you having trouble sleeping?” she asked. “Are you troubled?”
    I thought about lying but didn’t.
    “Yes,” I said. “I am troubled.”
    “Well, it’s no wonder, considering where you sleep.” She took the weight off, pulled the bowl off the scale, and tipped the tea leaves into an organza satchet.
    I blinked, surprised she knew so much about me. “Does Shadow Bay Hall creep out everybody in this town?” I looked at her over the scale. “Because you’re the third person to say something like that.”
    Nalla’s smile faded. She handed me the sachet and let her hand drop to the countertop. She bit her lip, glanced to the front of the shop, and then back at me.
    “Tragedy and death, Rosetta,” she murmured and her face fell with sorrow. “That is all that dwells there for long.”
    I looked at her, perplexed. “Are you talking about the accident a couple of years ago?”
    “Accident?” Nalla’s face contorted with sudden anger. “ Minciună …lie!”
    Her voice sounded through the shop, and I stepped back, looking around.