Read Online Stranger on the Shore (Mirabelle Harbor, Book 4) by Marilyn Brant - Free Book Online Page A

finally found a space and parked. Then I wandered into the heart of the party.
    “Wanna try a fudge sample?” a teenage girl in a Fudge Fantasia apron asked me. The girl had slices cut up and waiting on a tray in front of her, just steps away from the fudge shop’s entrance, and she held out a little plate. “Turtle is our special of the day.”
    I swallowed in anticipation just looking at it: Dense, dark fudge topped with pecans and curlicues of caramel. “Thank you,” I said. Then, after taking my first bite, “Ohhh, wow.”
    The girl nodded knowingly. “Yeah, I love it, too. On sale today for twenty-five percent off per pound.” She pointed at a placard with the reduced amount listed.
    “I’ll think about it.” I knew this wasn’t an outrageous price for high-quality fudge, but I also knew my limited budget and that I’d want to come back later and explore the delectable displays inside the fudge shop. “It’s delicious.”
    “We’ve got Oreo Crumble and Peanut Butter Swirl today, too,” the teen added with more than a hint of devious temptation in her tone.
    I laughed. “Seriously, I promise to return.” Maybe I could afford a quarter pound. Or even a half pound.
    “Good.” The girl glanced to either side, handed me another little plate and winked. “Take one for the road.”
    The teen was going for the hard sell, but it was effective. As I gobbled down my second piece of Turtle fudge, I knew for certain I’d be back.
    For the next hour or so, though, I simply meandered down the streets surrounding St. Armand’s Circle in delight and amazement. The postcard I’d seen at the corner grocery store hadn’t succeeded in convincing me that there were would be this many cool shops and restaurants assembled in one relatively small space. The area had a high-end, bazaar-like atmosphere that I immediately connected with and appreciated.
    I peered into a number of sophisticated stores, exotic boutiques, and artsy galleries, appreciating the beautiful, handcrafted work of the artisans—many based in Florida, but quite a few from destinations around the globe. I couldn’t help but run my fingers across the expertly tooled leather handbags, admire the ceramic birds and dolphins, marvel at the crystal wave sculptures, and enjoy the color fusion of clothing, paintings, and jewelry. Such a remarkable array of shades and textures.
    Eventually, I spotted The Golden Gecko, which was one of the shops the Elvis guy mentioned, and I wandered inside. Like many of the others, it was an assembly of fascinating crafts, this time with a special focus on decorative lizards and amphibians for yard and home. In the window, there was an enormous wrought-iron alligator. Near the door, I found a painted wooden iguana in the shape of a child’s chair. And, of course, there were clay, ceramic, glass, and bronze geckos throughout the shop—sitting on tables, perched on shelves, hanging on walls.
    I saw several paintings, too. These weren’t primarily of slithery creatures, although I did catch sight of a few baby lizards in the corner of one canvas. No. The focus was on the waves and the water. They were seascapes, brightly, beautifully painted in vivid acrylics. Like a visual love letter to the stunning beaches of the Sunshine Coast, and very much like my first impression of walking to the shore: The unbelievable blues of the sky and the Gulf, the clarity of the water, the powdery whiteness of the sand, the surprising burst of color in the form of a swimmer’s bathing suit or a child’s pail and shovel, the small but perfect shells.
    I collected these images, as if carrying my own bucket of sea treasures, and kept them with me as I moved onto the store next door. Castaways. That was the place that should have my water shoes in stock.
    From my view on the sidewalk, it looked to be busy inside—a good sign. And to the other side of it was The Beaded Periwinkle, which appeared to be some kind of shell shop. Interesting. I