11. Hattie

"So you mean you really can't teach us your party trick?" Peggy looks crestfallen as she, Clarabelle, and I sit at a bistro table set out in front of the Cottage House.

I thought what better way for the club members to enjoy the warm weather than to sip on iced lattes outdoors? The Cottage House has a full-fledged back patio, but the front has been just as occupied. Although right about now, we're the only takers.

The scent of fresh brewed coffee is coming in strong thanks to the fact there's a service window that leads into the Cottage Grill right behind us. Other than that, the scent of the briny sea air is making me crave some serious beach time.

"Not unless you're telesensual," I say, forlorn.

Cricket pauses in front of the table as she and Rookie prance around the patio. I'm glad I'm not telesensual. I can't imagine being constantly bombarded by what this big oaf is thinking.

Rookie gives a soft bark. And I'd lose my mind if I had to listen to how much you secretly love me. I've seen those googly eyes of yours.

You have not, Cricket yowls.

Have, too.Rookie barks and it sounds like a laugh. And Jolly's noticed it, too. He's just as tired seeing you drool over me.

That's it!She zips his way. You keep Jolly out of this.

And the chase is on.

I'd hate to break it to them, but they're pretty much telesensual when it comes to other animals.

I just spent the last twenty minutes telling Peggy and Clarabelle all about my trials and tribulations with the quirky ability that I never asked for.

"One of my grandmothers had it and now I have it, too," I continue. "But I seem to be the only one in my family with it at the moment, save for one of my cousins."

I'd hate to out Bizzy, even if it is just to Peggy and Clarabelle. It's bad enough I'm outing myself. My cousin Bizzy Baker lives about twenty minutes away where she runs a seaside inn. She's the one who filled me in on the fact that my little goofy talent fell under the category of transmundane.

"Well, I'll be a mind-reading monkey's uncle," Clarabelle grunts before perking up a bit. "All right, so what if I can't read minds. The point is that you can. And even more important is the fact we're practically family. And do you know what family likes to do more than anything else?"

"I'm afraid to ask," I say.

"Go to Vegas!" Clarabelle chirps so loud at least six different birds dart out of a nearby evergreen.

"Oh, forget Vegas." Peggy waves off Clarabelle and those dollar signs spinning in her eyes. "Hattie, you and I are good friends. I'd say we're practically sisters. How 'bout you join me this evenin' at the Show and Tell Bar and Grill? There's a couple of gentlemen that have been admiring me, and I'd love to know what those boys are thinking. I could grill 'em and you could read between the lines—or listen between them. In fact, I think you and I should make a habit of barhopping together. The drinks are on me, of course."

"Pfft." Clarabelle rolls her eyes. "Hattie isn't a barhopper and we both know it. And you know what else we both know—exactly what those dirty barhopping dogs are thinking."

I'm about to agree, or laugh, or cry, because I feel a little bit like a mind-reading piece of rope being tugged back and forth, but before I can do any of those things, I spot an unusual sight headed right for us.

It's my mother and Nora Maddox walking lockstep while chatting up a storm.

"What's this?" I mutter mostly to myself.

My mother and Nora may belong to the same country club, but they may as well live in two different universes as far as anything else goes. My mother is as sweet as a rose. And Nora is as prickly as the thorns on the stem of that rose.

"Here they come," I whisper as I look frantically from Peggy to Clarabelle. "You have to promise you won't say a word about my party trick that isn't such a party trick at all. The only other person who knows about it doesn't even live in Brambleberry Bay. My family doesn't know—Killion doesn't even know. It's just you ladies."

"Hattie." Mom waves as she quickly exchanges hellos with Peggy and Clarabelle as well.

"Hello, ladies," I say. "What's on the agenda today?" I can't help but make crazy eyes at Nora. As far as my mother goes, it's like watching a lamb walk into a butcher shop with a big ol' smile on her face.

"We're doing lunch," Nora says, pulling my mother close by way of her arm. "It turns out, Ruthie and I have a lot in common. She was just about to spill the tea on the horticulture club we both belong to. I've been absent for quite some time and it's high time I catch up." She peers down her nose at me. Nice to see Hattie minding her own business for once. Thank goodness she's not poking and prodding around Jane Jordan's untimely demise. That's the last thing any of us need. Especially me.

She yanks my mother off before I can say another word. And just as they head into the clubhouse, my brother Henry runs out—but not before kissing my mother, of course.

"Shoot. It looks like I missed him," I say as I watch Henry trot toward the parking lot. "Just as he was heading in, he had more than a few ominous thoughts. He said he had news that could devastate our whole family."

Both Peggy and Clarabelle suck in a quick breath.

"See what I mean?" Peggy says, elbowing Clarabelle in the process. "You can pick up on all kinds of family dirt just prying into someone's mind. Oh, Hattie, I need you. I'll pay good money to have you latched to my side."

"Speaking of money," I say, rising from my seat. "I'd better go check out that lifestyle guru and see how her fun-in-the-sun class is going while I'm still gainfully employed." I glance over my shoulder to make sure Nora is fully ensconced inside the clubhouse. "Missy Livingston is my very first suspect."

Clarabelle claps her hands and belts out a hoot. "Let's get this investigation on the road."

We start to make our way toward the sand as Peggy pulls us both back by the elbows.

"Hattie"—Peggy says with a mournful smile—"Both Clarabelle and I want to assure you that your secret is safe with us. I'll never tell a living soul that you can look them in the eye and suss out all the cacophony of noise they've got rattling around up in their noggin."

Clarabelle nods. "This is one time I'll let Peggy speak for me. I won't tell a single soul. I won't tell the butcher, the baker, or that hot candlestick maker down on Main Street. Cross my heart and hope to?—"

"Bup bup." Peggy holds out a hand and stops her from finishing her rather morbid sentence. "Don't you dare press your luck when it comes to the Grim Reaper. Especially since Hattie here is on a first-name basis with that naughty hottie. Now let's get down to the shoreline. I've taken a look at today's itinerary and we're just in time for seaside smoothies and a nice brisk crabwalk."

"That doesn't sound so bad," I say.

Although much like my luck, I have a feeling things are about to go sideways.