Page 8 of One Chance to Stay
Gladys wore the smirk with pride. She moved behind the counter, complete with an old cash register. Leaning on her elbows, she waited until I came closer. I wanted to ask if her superhuman abilities meant she already knew his name. If she did, she said nothing. I think she waited for me to offer up the key piece of information.
“Seamus. He lives?—”
“On the outskirts of Firefly. He lives alone on the farm.” She gave me a quick up and down. “He keeps to himself. Nice enough man, but he’s not what I’d call approachable.” Gladys had a mischievous smile that surely meant trouble. “Single if you’re into mountain men.”
I couldn’t tell if long ago she set her eyes on the man, or if she thoughtIneeded the information. “I got that feeling. The approachable thing, I mean.” I’m sure plenty of men at the bar would have found him attractive, sexy even. Maybe he and the guy who kissed me could start a love story?
“I want to say thanks. I kind of owe him. But what do you get?—”
“Big band.” She spoke the words as if they held all the answers. When I didn’t comment, she shook her head. “He likes big band music. Every so often, he’ll come in here and browse through the records.”
I worked in an environment that ranged from show tunes to techno. My musical tastes were questionable at best. I might need to rethink?—
“I can pull something for you,” she offered.
“Really?”
“I’ll see what I have, and I’ll send it over to Valhalla.”
My eyebrow inched up. “How’d you know I was staying…” She had an all-knowing smile. The queen of gossip already knew about a mysterious stranger wandering throughout the town. It had been just over twenty-four hours, and already I had reached the rumor mill.
“Patrick Holloway.” She used my name as evidence, confirming that she had done her research before I ever set foot in the door. “I just so happen to know Seamus is working at Logan & Son tomorrow.”
I couldn’t imagine the same man who answered his door with a rifle worked in town. How did he interact with other people? Did he give them a smile and nod of the head as he walked by, or did everybody get that gruff exterior? I imagined it’d be a lot of grumbles and scoffs.
“Thanks, Gladys.”
“Now scoot.” She waved me back. “One of us isn’t on vacation.”
Gladys earned her title as the Queen of Gossip. Backing away slowly, I never broke eye contact. I could draw out a person’s story through casual conversation, but Gladys uncovered it through other means. I had met my match and declared her the victor.
It was time to begin my vacation. First order of business, a nap covered in every quilt I could find. Then I’d spend some time reflecting over an early dinner. Or maybe skip the introspection and focus on a good ol’ fashioned burger. Who knew where the day would take me?
I reached the door and escaped.
THE LEGEND GROWS
Jason: Amanda’s dragging me to the ice rink.
Amanda: Dragging? Says the boy with his own skates.
Jon: Don’t forget the sparkly spandex.
Jason: …
Jon: Patrick, keep me company?
My bitterness shrank at the beauty of snow. When it wasn’t threatening my life, the slow fall of tiny white flakes had a magic about it. The winter hush left me with the sound of my breathing. I walked into the center of town, stopping to wiggle my toes against the thick wool yarn. Evelyn had left them hanging on my door with a note, “Stay warm.”
I had overslept and missed the chance to sample the cuisine at Maine on Bistro. Evelyn had made lasagna for the three guests at the bed-and-breakfast. Each plate in the fridge had a small plate next to it, with a slice of blueberry pie. The people in Firefly took their baked goods seriously.
“Firefly, you’re a quirky place.”
The town had an idyllic quality during the summer. The downtown could have been the model for all small towns aroundAmerica. With a layer of snow on the ground, it transformed into the picture-perfect New England town.
As I roamed down the center of the green, I could hear the squeals of children. The sun vanished just after dinner, but the dark didn’t deter the residents. They had frozen a giant rectangle at the bottom of the green, and nearly a dozen people were skating in oblong circles.
Jon sat on a bench to the side, waving his arms to get my attention. I gave him a wave and headed in his direction. After a day of sitting in bed writing in my journal, I could use a distraction. Something had percolated to where I couldn’t tell the difference between happiness and content. I had written out columns, creating lists to shake out this feeling in my chest. When I stood on the side of a mountain, the world laid out before me, I could swear the answer had been within reach.
