Postcards from Cedar Key Read Free

Gainesville.” In addition to his height and sweater, I now noticed that this man had a most charming dimple in his chin when he smiled.
    â€œWell, if there is one, I’m not aware of it. I go to Publix and purchase bags of Lindt Truffles. They’re quite good, but nothing compares with fresh, handmade chocolates. By the way, I’m Saxton,” he said, extending his hand across the counter. “Saxton Tate the third.”
    I reached for his hand and let out a chuckle. “Seriously? That’s quite a name you have. Are you descended from royalty with that British accent along with the name?”
    Without releasing my hand, he let out another burst of laughter. “I tend to doubt that, but you never know what skeletons families hide in their closets, do you?”
    If you only knew, I thought.
    He gave my hand a squeeze before letting go.
    â€œNo, I was just named for my father and my grandfather. Hence, the third. Grew up in a small village in the Cotswolds, but no royalty, I’m afraid. Oh, I also wanted to offer my condolences on the loss of your mother. I heard that was what detained your arrival in Cedar Key.”
    I nodded. “Thank you. Yes, she passed away in November and I had to tend to various tasks before I could move down here. Do you live on the island?”
    â€œI do. I’ve been here a few years now and I can’t see myself ever living anywhere else. I’m an author, and I receive much of my inspiration being surrounded by Mother Nature.”
    I smiled. “You look like an author, and you certainly have a great name for book jackets. What type of books do you write?”
    Saxton threw his head back laughing. “What exactly does an author look like?”
    â€œOh, well,” I mumbled, and felt myself getting flustered. “What I meant was . . . you know . . . a bit bohemian with, ah . . .” I gave him a full body scan. “Curly hair, the pullover sweater, jeans . . .”
    â€œWell, then you should see me on a chilly day when I’m sporting my tweed cap and scarf.”
    I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not because I was already getting the impression that this man possessed a good amount of wit and humor.
    Another smile crossed his face. “I write mysteries,” he told me. “Most of my novels were released in the UK, but I’m now with a publisher in New York and my second book with them will be out this fall.”
    â€œI’m an avid reader, so I’ll have to be sure to pick one up.”
    â€œI highly recommend the one released last year, A Deadly Secret, and I hope you’ll enjoy it. Lucas carries it at his bookshop across the street.”
    What the heck was it all of a sudden about family skeletons and secrets? “Well, I’ll be sure to pick up a copy, and maybe you’ll autograph it for me.”
    â€œIt would be my pleasure, but you haven’t yet told me your name.”
    I felt a smile cross my face and extended my right hand again. “Berkley,” I told him. “Berkley Whitmore, and it’s nice to meet you.”
    A chuckle escaped him as once again his hand encircled mine. “Berkley? And you’re questioning the oddity of my name?”
    Now it was my turn to laugh. “Right. Yeah, it is a bit unusual. My parents were students at Berkeley during the sixties when my mother got pregnant with me.”
    â€œAh, I see, and yes, that makes perfect sense.”
    It did? Although I didn’t dislike my name, I always thought it was a bit silly of my mother to name me after her alma mater.
    â€œWell, I’m definitely due for my chocolate, so it’s time for me to make my decisions,” he said, walking over to the glass case. “They look wonderful, and you make them yourself?”
    I walked around the counter and pointed to the dark chocolate pieces shaped like clams. “I make those,” I told him. “Cedar Key is the number one