Page 50 of Trick of Light
“Well hello, brown sugar,” he said upon opening the door.
Yeah. Like that one.
“Hello, white salt.”
He cackled in response to that. At least he had a sense of humor and didn’t take himself too seriously. “Want a beer?”
“It’s,” she checked the digital readout on his TV, “nine-thirty in the morning.”
“Eh. I’m retired, I don’t answer to no clock.”
“How about a gin-and-tonic, hold the gin?”
It took him a moment, but he chuckled again. “I can do that. I’ll even throw in a lime.”
Leaning on a cane, he hobbled to the tiny kitchen, which looked out over Seal Cove and its swirling currents. “My wife’s picking crab out in the fish shack. You here for her or me?”
“I’m here for you. I have a couple of follow-up questions.” She followed him into his kitchen. “I like your view. Perfect for spotting selkies in action.”
He paused in the midst of pouring her tonic and turned toward her. “You know about them selkies?”
“Sure. Legend has it they’re seals who shed their skins so they can come onto the land.”
“Legend? Nah. Seen it with my own eyes.”
Um…maybe after too many nine-thirty in the morning beers, she thought, but didn’t say out loud.
“But if you want to talk about selkies, I’m going to need something stronger than beer,” he said.
As much as she would love to explore his mythical creature hallucinations, she was here for business. Tamara’s business. “I’m actually here to talk about Tamara Brown.”
“She ain’t no selkie.”
“I realize that?—”
“She’s a wood elf.”
Okay then. This convo was going off the rails. “Were you receiving treatment from Tamara Brown for something? You don’t have to say what it was. Just whether you were or not.”
He handed her a highball glass smeared with his fingerprints. She took it gingerly.
“What’s it to ya?”
Fair question.
“I’m trying to help her out of this legal jam, that’s all. The more I know, the more I can help her. You’re friends, aren’t you?”
“We are. Used to be sweet on her, but she chose someone else.”
That piqued her interest. Tamara had never said a word about the identity of Sophie’s father. “Who did she choose?”
“Oh, he’s gone now. A transient fellow. Type who floats through, works for a bit until the winter gets to be too much.” He ushered her back into the living room, where the scent of cigarette butts was so strong she nearly gagged. “That’s how they always did things, those Brown women. It’s like they didn’t want a man sticking around too long. Tamara’s mother used to get in hot water with the old biddies.” He shook his head as he propped his cane against a chair, then struggled to lower himself in.
Should she offer to help him? She hesitated, fighting with her instinct to not get too close to the man. He dropped onto the cushion with a groan before she could decide.
“What do you mean, the old biddies?”
“The gossipmongers. Lisette always gave them something to talk about. She nearly got hounded off the island,” he went on. “Things were stricter back then. Folks shunned her. She was persona non gratin on this island.”
