Page 12 of Silver Linings

I flipped through another journal, and another. A mention of her marriage to my Grandpa Eddie, and then of the birth of her daughter Josie — my mother. Partway through the tenth diary, I realized the world was darkening outside, and it was now long past seven o’clock.

Time to scrounge something to eat, I supposed.

As I went, I turned on some lights, knowing nighttime was on its way and the last thing I needed was to blunder around in the dark.

But the kitchen was warm and cheery enough, with its butter-yellow cabinets and smooth marble countertops. My grandmother had redone the space some five years earlier, and although it had been modernized, it still felt like part of the house and not a gray-beige, modern graft stuck there by some over-zealous designer.

Not that Grandma would have ever hired someone to help her with the house in that way. She always wanted to make sure it felt like her, although she’d unbent in later years enough to have someone come in to clean after I’d gone off to college and couldn’t help out anymore.

To my infinite relief, though, I’d been able to get in touch with Greta, the woman who’d kept house for my grandmother, and she’d been all too happy to come back and keep things clean. Maybe it was an unnecessary expense, but I figured I had enough on my plate without trying to keep a three-thousand-square-foot house clean.

Greta had been here yesterday, so the kitchen was shiny and clean. While both my mother and grandmother had made sure I knew the basics of cooking, there hadn’t been much reason for me to prepare elaborate dinners after I returned to Silver Hollow, not when it was just me.

Which was why my freezer was stocked with prepared meals that I was sure would have earned me some side-eye if I’d trotted them out in front of my mother. Yes, I always tried to buy organic versions from smaller companies instead of the more mainstream stuff, but still, she’d never had much use for processed food.

However, I thought it a good idea to nuke something quickly and get back to work, which was exactly what I did. In fact, I rushed my makeshift dinner along so fast that I ate it standing up, put the fork in the dishwasher, and then hurried back into the dining room so I could resume my study.

Not that I was able to find anything of real use. Yes, it seemed as if my grandmother had had more encounters with mythical beasts than a lot of the other descendants of Mary Welling, but still, there didn’t seem to be much of a pattern that I could detect, nothing to hang my hat on.

Which meant all this had probably been a colossal waste of time.

I wouldn’t allow myself to sigh as I gathered up the journals and returned them to their box, then set them on the floor. By that point, I was far too tired to haul them back up to the attic, so I left them where they were and made myself go into the family room and turn on the television.

The voices helped me to feel not quite so alone.

Or at least, I tried to tell myself that.

Chapter Five

“That one!” little Harper Henderson cried out, pointing to a goldfish with dramatic black patches on its side and a long, sweeping tail.

It was definitely the showiest fish in the tank, so I wasn’t too surprised Harper had pointed it out.

Dutifully, I scooped out the fish with a long-handled net, then placed it in a waiting bag. Even though Silver Hollow Feathers and Fur had long since stopped selling mammals, we still offered fish.

Freshwater varieties only, though, and nothing too difficult to keep alive. Goldfish and bettas and tetras were pretty low-maintenance, luckily, so even though my mother and grandmother and I had discussed liquidating our fish inventory from time to time, nothing had ever come of those conversations.

Which I was sure made Harper very happy. The baby of the family, she wouldn’t be starting kindergarten until the fall, which meant her mother Patty usually brought her into the store at least once a week just to give her a fun little outing.

Because I knew they already had a rough baker’s dozen of fish at home, I didn’t ask if they needed food. No, I just waited for Patty to pull a couple of dollar bills out of her wallet and hand them over, and then told Harper to have fun with her goldfish and that I’d see her next week.

She beamed as she trotted out of the store at her mother’s side, brown ponytail bouncing against her back. Patty and John Henderson were organic farmers who had a big spread on the western edge of Silver Hollow, and Patty often brought me preserves from their orchards or fresh-baked bread made from wheat she’d ground herself. Even though she was a good ten years older than I, she seemed to think of me as her surrogate little sister, and I got the feeling that sometimes she came into the store just to make sure I was still doing okay.

Once upon a time, such protectiveness might have felt a little cloying. Right now, I thought I could use as many people in my corner as possible.

A few minutes later, though, Sam Tucker, one of the rangers who worked at the local station, came in, and I had to revise my thinking on that particular point.

If I’d had any brothers and sisters, they might have teased me about Sam’s unrequited crush on me. As it was, I found myself always stepping delicately around him, not wanting to be actively rude but at the same time doing my utmost not to say anything that might encourage the guy.

“Hi, Sam,” I said, essaying my best neutral but hopefully still friendly smile. “What’s up?”

He came over to the cash register where I’d been standing. Most people would have thought he was good-looking enough, with his blond hair and blue eyes and year-round tan, but something about him had never clicked for me.

Too bad, because being hooked up with a forest ranger might have offered its own set of dividends. He was in the forest all day and might see things that other people had overlooked.

Then again, I was pretty sure the unicorn wouldn’t be careless enough to allow himself to be seen by a human being who wasn’t a descendant of Mary Welling, and I doubted any of the other creatures that came and went in the forest would be that nonchalant about their situation, either.

“Not much,” Sam replied. “I just came in for a new bag of cat food.”

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