Page 139 of The Otherworld

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La Conner is about as postcard perfect as small-town Washington gets—a crush of townhouses and waterfront shops built on the edge of a glossy blue harbor, everything buzzing in the peak of tourist season. Orca smiles as we cross the bridge, pointing out my window to the snowy-white ridge of a mountain in the far distance.

Following the address for Harry Rushbrook, we wind up parking in front of an old yellow Victorian house surging with rosebushes and porcelain cat lawn decorations. A sign above the wraparound porch reads North Coast Bed and Breakfast.

Orca squints suspiciously as she matches the house number with the address in her lap. “This can’t be the right place, can it?”

I shrug, popping open my door. “Let’s go find out.”

We walk up the crushed-shell path and come to a stop on the porch. Orca hesitates with her finger hovering over the doorbell, so I go ahead and knock.

She casts me a defensive but grateful look. “I was going to ring the bell.”

“Well, what were you waiting for?” I pull her closer, kissing her temple. “Christmas?”

She elbows me in the side.

“Ow, damn it. That’s my broken rib—”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Orca gasps and starts fussing over me just as the front door swings open. A curvy blonde woman in her late fifties steps out onto the porch, wearing an apron covered in rainbow cats.

“Good afternoon, welcome to North Coast Bed and Breakfast! My name is Loretta. How can I help you folks? Are you all right, young man?” She frowns, noticing the way I’m gripping my side and smiling through a grimace.

“He broke his ribs,” Orca explains without much context.

“Oh my goodness! Come inside and sit down—do you want me to call a doctor?”

“No, no, it was a while ago. Thank you—I’m fine now.” I rush to calm her panic. “I’m still recovering, that’s all. My, uh… girlfriend just took exception to something I said and jabbed me in the ribs.”

Orca’s cheeks flush pink at that word—girlfriend—and I have to admit, it feels pleasantly strange and satisfying to hear it roll off my tongue so easily.

Loretta the innkeeper smiles at the two of us. “And I take it you and your girlfriend are looking for a nice, cozy place to spend the night.”

“Spend the night?” I repeat the words, momentarily thrown off by the image that flashes through my mind. It doesn’t take much imagination—especially after seeing Orca in that sexy little bikini—and now I’m the one whose face is turning red. “Uh, no. No, we’re… looking for someone. Harrison Rushbrook. I think he used to live here.”

“Yeah, that’s right! I knew Harry. Sweet old gentleman. He and his wife used to own this house. I was their neighbor for years; I lived in that little place across the street there. The Rushbrooks were both such lovely people. Olivia passed away in nineteen-ninety, and Harry lived here all on his own until two years ago…” She pauses to make a pouty face. “Poor man. He was never quite the same after losing his wife. Some say he died of a broken heart, and I think they may be right.”

The hope in Orca’s eyes flickers out as she absorbs this news.

Both her grandparents are dead.

It’s exactly what I was afraid of.

She presses her fingers to her lips and turns away, drifting to the other end of the porch and leaning against the rail for support.

Loretta looks worried that she said something wrong. “Is she all right?”

“The Rushbrooks were her grandparents,” I explain in a low voice. “She never had the chance to meet them.”

“Oh, I am sorry…”

“Do you know if they had any relatives?”

“Yes, they had a daughter,” Loretta murmurs thoughtfully. “She came to visit them sometimes, and I met her when we closed on the house. Her name was… Susan? No, no… Sara.”

“Do you have her number, by any chance?”

“I might. Let me go check. I’ll be right back.” With that, Loretta vanishes into the house, and I cross the porch to meet Orca at the railing.

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