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This was a wild and woolly place in the early days. Pirates. Deserters from one army or another. Indians. Fascinating stuff. You know, Southerners are devoted to their ancestors, and it seems that the more wicked they were, the more interesting they are. I’ve always had a passion for history, and growing up here . . .”
    â€œDon’t be modest, dear. You have all those photographs and maps. And the church records go back, oh, as far as Reverend Thomas. You’ve heard of him, haven’t you? The parson of the islands? An ancestor of Matthew’s, and quite a legend in these parts. The Chesapeake was a sinful place before Reverend Thomas.”
    â€œI understand that there was some mix-up about your appointment with Forest McCready.” Matthew reached for a slice of apple cake.
    â€œOne slice only, dear,” Grace chided. “I don’t want to have to send your trousers out for alterations again.”
    Bailey wondered how the news had traveled so fast, but she didn’t attempt an answer. And as she suspected, Grace took up the slack.
    â€œProbably Ida’s fault. She’s always messing up Forest’s schedules. Why he keeps her on, I’ll never know.” She pursed her lips and mimicked sipping from a bottle. “Ida’s worked for him twenty years, but she’s not dependable, if you catch my meaning.”
    â€œThat’s unkind, Grace. We don’t know that Ida did anything wrong. There isn’t a lot of legal work here on Tawes, and it may have slipped Forest’s mind. I’m certain it will be all cleared up tomorrow.”
    Two hours later, after escaping from the parsonage and walking back to the B and B, Bailey sat across from Emma at an oilcloth-covered, round oak table and told her about her meeting with Grace in the cemetery.
    â€œMore coffee?” Emma didn’t wait for an answer, but refilled Bailey’s white china mug to the brim.
    She nodded. Emma’s coffee was strong enough to dissolve a spoon, but it was good and hot, and Bailey savored every drop. Despite the apple cake she’d eaten earlier, she’d just taken a bite of homemade blueberry pie, a dessert that completed one of the best meals she’d enjoyed in months.
    â€œThey’re a pair of odd ducks, those two,” Emma said. “Did Matthew talk your ears off? He’s all right, as ministers go. His sermons are short enough, but that Grace . . . Don’t tell her anything you don’t want spread all over Tawes in ten minutes.”
    â€œGrace insisted that I borrow her bicycle while I’m on Tawes. I tried to refuse, but—”
    â€œBut it was easier to take the damn bike than argue with her.” Emma added a heaping spoonful of sugar to her coffee. “Grace has that way about her. She just wears you down. Don’t worry about it. You won’t put her out any. She rarely rides the thing. I think Matthewbought it for her two Christmases ago. Either she walks when she wants to go someplace or she takes her boat.”
    â€œIt was nice of her. I would like to see something of the island while I’m here, but I’d hoped to finish my business with—”
    â€œForest,” Emma supplied. She rose and gathered the dirty dishes. “Well, he’s not as young as he used to be, but he’s as shrewd as they come. Forest is a crackerjack lawyer. If he’d left Tawes and concentrated on his practice in Annapolis, he’d probably be a millionaire, but he’s like the rest of us. We like the way we do things here—the way we’ve done them for hundreds of years.”
    â€œYour other guest, Daniel? Isn’t his last name Catlin? Are he and the pastor related?”
    â€œHoney, everybody on Tawes is related.”
    â€œOther than the color of their eyes, they don’t look much alike, but—”
    Emma scraped scraps off the plates into a pot. “For my chickens,” she explained.