Page 55 of Too Old for This
When I arrive, only two people are inside. One is Mrs.Lockland, the most devout member of First Covenant. She has been coming here longer than I have and prays every day. I still don’t know what for.
Pastor Doug is also here. He is on the phone, talking tosomeone about the door to his office. It creaks, apparently. Doug waves at me as he ends the call.
“A pastor’s job is never done,” I say.
“That door has been driving me crazy.”
He is kind enough to ask how I am, how my hip is doing, and he even asks about Archie. All of this takes a good ten minutes before he gets around to asking why I have shown up at church on a Friday morning.
“A little bird whispered in my ear and said an old friend was in here looking for me,” I say.
“Is that right?”
“That’s what I heard. Do you remember talking to Norma?”
“Of course I do! She mentioned you two knew each other.” Doug smiles wide, looking genuinely pleased.
“I haven’t seen her in a long time. Honestly, I didn’t even realize she was in Baycliff!” I am careful about my words, avoiding saying shereturnedto Baycliff or wasstillin town. Wouldn’t want to contradict whatever this woman said. “Did she mention what she’s been up to?”
“No, she didn’t say anything about work or kids or anything. I got the feeling she hadn’t been here long.”
“No?”
“Well, she’s staying in a hotel, so…presumably she won’t be living there forever.”
“I should hope not. But I could get used to daily room service!”
“Me too. Especially when it’s at the Harmony.”
The Harmony Hotel. Thank you, Pastor Doug.
I do feel a little bit bad about lying to him, especially insidethe church, but I suppose people have done worse things in a house of worship.
The Harmony Hotel is in the old part of Baycliff. It’s always been a nice place with a decent restaurant. Archie and Stephanie used to stay there when they came to visit.
On my way over, I stop at the post office to mail Noah’s birthday package. The video game is wrapped. So is his gift card. And I included a plastic container of homemade chocolate chip cookies. I made twice as many as I needed. That’s not going to help my blood sugar one bit.
I rarely go to the post office these days, but when I do, there’s always a line. With all the online options and home pickups, it surprises me. No matter what day or what time I show up, I always find myself standing in line. It does not make me nostalgic for the past.
Next, the Harmony Hotel. The parking lot is less than half full. I sit and watch for a few minutes, getting a feel for the place before heading inside.
There’s still a bar right off the lobby. I get a mocktail, plant myself on a couch in the lobby, and read one of their magazines.
Forty-five minutes later, only two people have walked in. Neither resembles Sheila’s description of Norma. If I stay much longer, either the front desk clerk or the bartender is going to start asking questions. I was hoping for some luck, but it didn’t show up today.
Back to my car, where I wait. This time it’s a real stakeout. I don’t know if Norma is in the hotel or will be returning to it, but I watch the door to try and find out. I last an hour and a half before giving up, at least for now, and heading home.
I don’t notice the silver car until it’s too late. It pulls into the driveway behind me. A woman is behind the wheel.
I get out of my car and stand up, ready to face Norma. Sheila described her perfectly.
She is around fifty. Her wavy brown hair is like a cap that frames her head. She has small eyes, or maybe her round face makes them look that way. Her clothes are dark and shapeless, and her shoes have thick rubber soles.
“Lottie? Are you Lottie Jones?”
Her voice is deep and gruff, just as Sheila described. Whiskey and smoke with a hint of a Southern accent.
She is about ten feet away and makes no attempt to move closer, but this still feels threatening. This woman has been asking around, claiming to know me, and I don’t know why.
