Page 7 of One Chance to Stay
Patrick: I need the queen of gossip.
Amanda: Gladys.
Jason: Gladys.
Jon: Gladys.
“It’s like living in a winter wonderland.”
Firefly had the quintessential downtown. A horseshoe of businesses surrounded a park in the middle. At one time, there had stood a giant paper mill, but since its closure, the town had repurposed it into small storefronts.
The people around the green shoveled away the latest snowstorm. While I had come face-to-face with death, they took it in stride, tossing salt along the sidewalks. Winter in Maine could be brutal, but Firefly went through the motions, leaning into the cuteness of their winter wonderland.
Kids played on the green, hurling snowballs at one another. A man and his daughter were busy rolling snow for the second tier of their snowman. The flier in Valhalla listed the next big event as the winter solstice bonfire. The garlands had been strung from lampposts, and wreaths hung from the gazebo posts. Evenin the daylight, red lights twinkled. At any moment, I expected a man in a red suit carrying a bag full of presents to use the green as his landing strip.
Every person I passed gave me a tip of the hat or a heartfelt smile. In the city, we avoided eye contact, but here, I bet they’d see it as offensive. When in Rome… I smiled at the woman with her son, acting as if I could tip my bright orange hunting cap.
At the top of the green, a row of stores ran the length of the street. To one side, I spotted my destination, Twice-Told Tales. By the time I reached the door, I reconsidered my strategy. As soon as I walked in, I’d be allowing Firefly to drag me into its web of interconnected familiarity. Nothing I said from here on would be secret. With a hand on the door, I admitted that every ounce of privacy prepared to evaporate.
The bell jingled.
I gave a slight shiver as the cold fell away. With each step, I walked further back in time. The ornate chairs and vintage desks were older than I was. My fingers brushed the tattered edges of a map sprawled across a dining room table. Hendersonville. It took a moment before I recognized the layout of Firefly.
“Once upon a time—” I jumped at the voice. “—we went by Hendersonville.” I couldn’t figure out where she had been hiding. Did she jump out of an old captain’s trunk, or had she been tucked behind a hand-carved headboard?
Gladys couldn’t be more than a hundred pounds, and that included the thick navy-blue sweater. She embraced the snow-white hair, letting it fall along her shoulders. Much like the shop, I’d describe her as vintage. Not old, but from a long-forgotten time.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
I recognized the skeptical tone and narrowed eyes. The next words out of my mouth would set the tone for our conversation.Gladys wanted to know if I belonged to the greater tribe of Maine.
“I grew up in Bangor.”
Her thin lips turned upward in a smile. I had passed the test with flying colors. She moved to my side, inspecting the map. With a wrinkled finger, she pointed to a spot on the map showing a large field.
“We’re here. All of this would eventually become the green.” I followed the road north, wondering where Seamus’s house might be.
“Things have changed a little.”
“They always do,” she said. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. I recognized bartender magic. Every night, I summoned the ability to read a person and predict their needs. In her younger years, I bet Gladys made plenty of Old Fashions. I resisted the urge to spill my guts and get into the turbulence of my life.
“I heard you might be able to help me.”
“You heard right.” She stepped back, her hands neatly folded in front of her. “But you’re not here for furniture, are you?”
Yes, she had the skill. “Not today.” I hesitated as I imagined the landslide about to take place. As soon as I opened my mouth, I’d be swept into the small-town madness. Thankfully, my determination to repay Seamus outweighed my fear. “I heard you have your finger on the pulse of the town.”
She chuckled. “That’s the nicest way to say ‘town gossip’ I’ve ever heard.”
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
The chuckle turned into an outright laugh. “Dear, you don’t get to my age without knowing where the bodies are buried. Iamthe queen of gossip.” She gave a hair flip, confirming her status.
“So, last night I almost died in the snow.”
“It appears you got better.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I would have frozen if I hadn’t stumbled onto somebody’s farm. He let me crash for the night and gave me a lift to my truck this morning. I want to show my appreciation, but I don’t know jack about the man. Thought you might help?”
