Page 20 of Fortune's Control
“Miss you, too.”
I didn’t get up, choosing to gaze up into the oak’s thick branches. A few swayed in the morning breeze—a late April morning, perfect for a bike ride to the local library.
I rose but didn’t move, staring at the wondrous sight before me. Shane’s truck headlights flashed on a sign by his property’s entrance the first night. The late hour kept everything but that metal sign hidden.The Wilcotts. Established 1875.
It struck me because who puts family signs on their property? Shane gave me a quick tour the following day, and the sign made sense afterward. His whitewashed home wasn’t a mansion, but it was imposing, with its wrap-around porch on all four sides and large windows. My favorite element was the grand bay windows made of stained glass on both sides of the back porch.
The house, impressive by itself, lay at the end of a long driveway, flanked by palm trees. I described it as peaceful, which was true. It was an oasis, and in a short period of time, it felt uncomfortably close to a home.
*****
I walked past the town hall on my first day in Fortune’s Creek and paid it no attention. Looking back,I couldn’t understand how I missed it, because the red brick, paired with white shutters, held my attention as I approached. Stately and comfortable, with a pair of magnolias on opposite sides of the sidewalk. I followed the sign to the left side of the building, where I found a blue awning and double-wide doors.
Inside, the front desk and the delicious scent of books greeted me. My lips crept upwards into a giddy smile as I took in the rows of books and display cases. More reading and more information about my grandmother.
The librarian, Lainey, according to her name tag, stood by the front desk. “Can I help you?” She was my age, but the glasses and messy bun perfectly fit the librarian stereotype.
“I think so. I haven’t been in Fortune’s Creek for long, so I don’t have a library card, but I hoped to check out books.”
She tilted her head, squinting at me. Her chin dropped as recognition hit. “Oh, you’re Shane’s new wife, aren’t you? You’ve been the topic of conversation for a week now. Patrons asked me about you, as if the librarian should know.”
Shane prepared me for that—a town where everyone knew your business. Fortune’s Creek’s earnestness contrasted with my apathetic childhood. For all that, it jarred me to hear the title ‘wife’ spoken out loud. “Yes, that’s me. Lilah Mayberry. I suppose you heard how we met?”
“Love at first sight.” She patted her heart. “Believe me, the entire town is pleased, as pleased as can be for him. It’s been a challenging year, and it’s wonderful he isn’t alone in that big house, all by himself.”
“He’s a sweetheart,” I said, wanting to stay noncommittal. A challenging year of what? Shane mentioned leaving the military a year ago, but never mentioned which branch or why he left. In fairness, he didn’t owe me explanations, either. “I see why everyone cares about him so much.” That part was the truth.
“Well, don’t worry about a library card. Check out whatever you want, and we’ll put it on his card. Shane won’t mind.”
I reread her name tag. A large, bold print spelled her first name, while a smaller one gave her last name. “You’re Lainey Jenson.” We had never met, yet I recognized the name. “Lainey Jenson. Oh.” It hit me. “The Lainey Jenson. The writer. I loved your book.”
“You read it?” Pride showed in her smile.
I couldn’t put it down. A girl lost in the woods, running from a killer, and surviving both. It was worth my inability to function the next day.
“Well, of course. Everyone did. It was a bestseller. I stayed up all night reading it.” Hidden gems were everywhere in Fortune’s Creek. First Shane, and now Lainey. With luck, I’d find the third.
“It was my dream to be a writer, but it turned out I only had one story inside of me.” The pride faded, but the smile remained. “So, I became a librarian, and now I get to find you another story. How can I help?”
Her statement sounded familiar. Her writing dream ended while I was fired from a job, but the result was the same. Starting over. It’s what led me to Fortune’s Creek, after all. She nursed a hurt with that book, one she wasn’t ready to share. I understood that, too.
“I’m trying to find someone.”
Her eyes bulged with excitement. “Oh, a mystery.”
“Yes. No. My grandmother may live here. All I have is a last name. Mayberry.” I tried to learn more over the years, but my mother always refused to share any details, despite my pleading. I had a last name and a glimmer of hope.
Lainey tapped her lip. “Mayberry. I know almost everyone, and that name isn’t familiar.”
“It’s possible my mother went to high school here.” I did the math in my head. “Thirty years ago.”
“Yearbooks. We have yearbooks.”
“Perfect.”
*****
Six different yearbooks later, and still no luck. No one resembled my mother, and the name Sarah Jane Mayberry never appeared. It’s possible she lied, or it was the wrong school. Knowing my mother, she avoided picture day.
