“Will you let me set up a Facebook book for Kingfisher Falls Bookshop? I can manage it and get word out to locals. If you’ll trust me.”
“Everyone says I should be on Facebook but I’m not one for this whole social media thing. But wouldn’t it take a lot of your time?” Rosie said.
“Not really. And once it’s up and running, it will be perfect to put anything onto.”
“Anything?”
Charlotte nodded. “Opening hours. Photographs of the shop. Images of different books. We can announce new releases and specials. Oh, and maybe have some author signings.”
Rosie was suddenly very solemn and quiet. She held a hand toward Mayhem, who opened his eyes and ignored her. But Mellow hopped off her chair and climbed onto Rosie’s lap as if she knew her owner was troubled. For a few minutes, Charlotte let Rosie think and finished her drink. Perhaps she’d overstepped her position. Rosie wanted to retire, but even if Charlotte took over eventually, and it was too soon to know, she shouldn’t be forcing her ideas onto the other woman, who’d successfully run the business for decades.
“Charlie?”
“Rosie, I’m sorry.”
“Well, I don’t know what for. I feel a little foolish for not exploring ways to expand our…”
“Reach? Grow the customer base?” Charlotte prompted.
“Yes. Our horizons, as it were. Please go ahead and do whatever you think will work but let me know how many hours you work outside your normal days so I can pay you.”
Charlotte stood. “No extra payment required. That day I came here with Trev? I asked him if you had a Facebook page and rattled off a whole lot of ideas. So, I was invested then, and I am now. I think the free rent thing deserves a little repayment.”
“Thank you. Are you leaving?”
“I’d like to get started on this and have a lovely salad to make at home, so yes. Please stay were you are though.” Charlotte collected the glasses. “See you tomorrow.”
Charlotte left after washing the glasses and saying goodbye to the cats, although Mayhem hissed at her. She stepped onto the street in near darkness. The air was warm with a touch of humidity. Hopefully not another storm. But there was a smell on the breeze and not a pleasant one. Cigarette smoke. Nobody was around when she looked up the street and down.
A few steps along, there was a lit butt on the pavement. Charlotte stepped on it to extinguish it and felt around in her handbag for a tissue. “Right in the middle of bushfire season!” she muttered, folding the butt into the tissue. She’d dispose of it once she found a bin somewhere. Holding it away from herself, she headed for the main road again. No point being upset about other people’s carelessness. There was a lot to do this evening and, in a few minutes, she’d be home and able to write a list.
Almost at the corner, a prickle of alarm swept along Charlotte’s spine. There were no odd sounds, no more bad smells, just a feeling from nowhere. She moved a bit faster and then at the corner, stopped and stared back down toward Rosie’s house. It was quiet. No cars or people coming and going. Houses were mostly lit up with Christmas lights, adding to the festive feel of the town.
Charlotte decided she was over-tired from too many nights of disturbed sleep and dealing with a few less than pleasant locals. With a shake of her head, she hurried home.
Chapter Fourteen
Laptop open on the kitchen counter, Charlotte perched on a stool as she ate with one hand and set up the shop Facebook page with the other. Tomorrow she’d take photos in and outside the bookshop and upload those. For now, she did the basics and prepared what she could without images.
Next on her long list was to create signage for what she and Rosie had decided to call the ‘giving box’. Rosie suggested covering a large cardboard box with Christmas paper and placing it near the counter, so Charlotte added this to her job to do, but this one for first thing in the morning.
After playing with fonts and images for a while, Charlotte was satisfied with the wording and appearance of the signs. They’d be printed in colour downstairs, then put around the shop and in the windows. Charlotte wrote herself a reminder to ask Rosie who would be best to speak to about the donations. Most likely a local church group or other care workers who’d know where a little extra would be appreciated.
Charlotte already planned to add a few books. Something told her the Forest family were putting their all into keeping the Christmas Tree Farm afloat, so hopefully they wouldn’t mind a couple of books heading their way for Lachie.
She got up to stretch and get some water. It reminded her to water the pine tree, so she filled a jug and went to check on it. This time it took less water to soak in properly, and Charlotte was certain the branches were a little more robust than this morning.
“You’re going to be just fine.”
She adjusted a bauble, then wandered to the railing.
A police car cruised past. Charlotte couldn’t see the driver but was there anyone else but Sid in this town? It slowed to a crawl near Esther’s shop, then parked a little further along, closer to the roundabout. Keeping an eye on things? About time.
Before she could get riled up at Sid and his council friends, she went inside, locking the door behind herself as if to shut them out. If they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do their work in finding the thief, then she wasn’t about to do it for them.
Or was she? Charlotte came to a halt in the centre of the living room. Three thefts of artificial Christmas trees in three days. And the audacity of stealing the one belonging to the town. What was motivating the person, or people, behind it?
Charlotte returned the water jug to the kitchen and opened her emails. There was one person who loved a mystery even more than she did and was brilliant at solving them. Christie Ryan. She started an email.
Hey Christie,
I know you have your hands full but if you’d like a distraction, let me know and I’ll fill you in on some odd happenings here in Kingfisher Falls. Someone is stealing Christmas trees, of all things! Artificial ones, or perhaps that is coincidence. And I’ve managed to put the local police offside by being my usual self.
As she typed, a new email arrived, and she stopped to read it. For a moment she simply looked at the sender. Maggie from Lakeview Care. Subject: Angelica Dean. What was wrong now?
She dropped her hands from the laptop, awash with a familiar coldness. As her own therapist, she recognised the response to seeing her mother’s name. The coldness wouldn’t go until she dealt with whatever this was.
Charlotte opened the email.
Dear Dr Dean,
I’ve left a message on your phone this evening but thought it best to follow up with an email. Your mother has recently begun asking to see you again. She’s experienced a few episodes that lasted longer than in the past, requiring additional medication to manage her outbursts.
She reached for her phone. The battery was depleted, so she plugged it in and let it recharge. For a moment she stood at the sink filling a glass with water. It overflowed. Once she’d dried her hand, she forced herself back to the email.
Her illness is taking a toll on her. Some days she sleeps despite our best attempts to keep a normal routine, and then she wakens disoriented and the paranoid episodes begin.
Mrs Dean’s deterioration since you last visited is dramatic. I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you by phone to discuss several matters. Although I understand you are no longer in Queensland, please consider coming to see your mother while she still recognises you.
Charlotte closed the laptop with a click. Dementia on top of paranoid schizophrenia and other diseases was why Angelica was in residential care. A lifetime of refusing treatment drove everyone away. Every friend. Any family, including the man who’d bravely married a woman who turned on everyone, sooner or later.
Including me.
If she was treating a patient, Charlotte would know what to do. How to create a management plan and adjust medications and therapy to provide the most comfort
able level of living possible.
But she’s not a patient. Not my patient. Not now.
Charlotte was barely aware of grabbing her house keys and slipping her feet back into shoes. She was down the back steps in seconds and running. Running as fast as her legs would let her.
Chapter Fifteen
Charlotte veered left from the bookshop, away from the shopping precinct and roundabout with its empty space where a pretty tree once stood.
Away from the broken glass in front of Esther’s shop, the glass Sid saw not as a clue to catching the thief, but a nuisance needing cleaning up.
Away from the book club ladies who were not ladies but rude and conniving women with nothing better to do than question her right to be there.
And away from the apartment on the bookshop with its email from the place she’d sent her own mother to live.
Without slowing, she crossed streets for block after block until a narrow track took her away from the main road. In darkness she ran, not caring if low-lying branches of bushes stung her bare legs as she got too close to them, nor where she was going to end up. Her heart pounded in her ears until she knew she’d pass out if she didn’t slow.
She staggered to a walk, then stopped, hands on her knees as she gasped in air. This was stupid. A stupid, primal response. Running away didn’t outrun the demons.
Breathe.
Bit by bit, she slowed her racing pulse, sliding the bracelet round and around her wrist. She straightened and closed her eyes, reaching out with her senses to the peace around her.
One breath. Two.
She dug deep into her body with the calming mantra she’d perfected long ago.
One breath. Two. You have control.
Her fingers stretched out.
One breath. Good. Two. You are in control.
Her ears still rang. Except, it wasn’t her ears, but a sound in the distance. Perhaps running water. A creek?
Eyes open again, Charlotte followed the sound, taking in her surrounds as she walked. The path beneath her feet might be narrow but was solid and smooth. On either side, trees and bush enclosed her. She glanced up and saw stars through a canopy of branches.
A small clearing appeared with a couple of timber benches and an information board. This was lit by a single solar light. It was a map of the area.
Kingfisher Falls Reserve.
Several trails forked out, one leading to the actual falls. “I didn’t know there were real falls.” She took a path that initially climbed, zigzagging around old tree stumps, and some ancient trees. Then there were steps leading down, with a sign warning they were steep. With only moonlight to guide her, Charlotte appreciated the rail on one side and was careful of her footing. Partway down was a sign to Kingfisher Falls Lookout, which now seemed a more sensible choice than going all the way down in the dark.
Charlotte gasped aloud as she stepped onto the lookout.
Around her, the trees gave way to a gully where a waterfall cascaded down sheer rocks to a pool below. Moonlight reflected in the pool. Charlotte sank to the ground, sliding her legs through the railing to dangle over the edge. Head on her arms on a rail, she soaked in the majesty of the falls.
As reluctant as Charlotte was to leave the lookout, the night air had cooled, and exhaustion racked her body. Her mind, though, was refreshed, and the anxiety and guilt were relegated back to their normally locked boxes in her brain.
There’d been no alternative to institutionalising her mother. Not after years trying to help her and failing every time. Charlotte had the skills to reduce the symptoms, but Angelica possessed neither the will nor interest to do what was needed. It was time to stop blaming herself for her mother’s choices.
She wandered back along the path she’d earlier run along. On her next free day, she’d come here in daylight, bring a picnic and her phone to take photos. This might turn into her go-to place when the world got a bit too much. What a wonderful accidental find.
Ahead, the streetlights of the main road shone through the trees. Charlotte took a deep breath, almost ready to return to civilisation. The earlier panic was gone. Or at least at bay. Time to make a cup of tea and settle for the night. She smiled at the thought and turned right.
Straight into Sid Morris, who stood, feet planted apart, arms crossed.
Barely stopping before ploughing into him, Charlotte copied his stance, right down to the crossed arms. She didn’t speak, merely looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Her heartrate was through the roof.
Not tonight.
“Explain your reason for lurking in the bushes.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s about time you took this seriously, missy. Since you arrived in town there’s been trouble. And now I find you hanging around a reserve at almost midnight.”
Was I there so long?
“I’m getting to know my new town. And I’m quite certain there was trouble happening before I moved here. Now, I’m going home.” Charlotte went to step around Sid, but his arm shot out like a barrier and he leaned in toward her.
“You need to be careful.” He hissed at her, his breath fowl. “Don’t think being with Rose will somehow protect you if you take a wrong step. Her and her son have no jurisdiction here and I’m the one who makes the rules.”
It took all of Charlotte’s self-control to prevent hysterical laughter exploding into his face. He really believed he was straight out of a western movie. Why bring Rosie and Trev into this? She sobered as she remembered she was out late at night on a deserted street with a man who hated her. One with a gun.
“I’m going to leave now.” She used her best therapist voice. “There’s no reason for you to suspect me of any wrongdoing. I’m just settling into a new job and not looking for any problems.”
“Then stay off the streets at night. No more wandering around when you hear things.”
“Great advice. Goodnight, Sid.” Fingers metaphorically crossed, she waited and the moment his arm dropped, rushed past. Charlotte didn’t look back or slow down until she reached the bookshop.
Chapter Sixteen
Charlotte did something she hadn’t since leaving Queensland months ago. She took a sleeping tablet. Since the events of the previous year, she always kept some.
Insomnia had taken over for a while during the worst of the board inquiry in Brisbane, and before she’d completely fallen apart, her doctor prescribed some. Two nights sleep and she’d been back in control and able to explain her decision about revealing confidential information.
Sid’s threatening demeanour and apparent mission to catch her doing something wrong was the final straw on an already difficult evening.
She woke groggy and wanted to go back to sleep. But the tapping of rain on the window got her attention and with a moan, Charlotte slid her feet out. The sky was grey and the clouds heavy. Great when the weather matched the mood. Even a long shower followed by strong coffee barely made inroads on her disinterest in starting the day.
Second coffee in hand, she opened Facebook. Her cup stopped halfway to her mouth as she read the new bookshop page. More than fifty people had liked it. She had to double check. But yes, it was her page, for Rosie’s shop. There were several reviews, all five star and suddenly, she was smiling. If a half-done page with next to no images got such an immediate response, what could they look forward to?
In minutes she was downstairs with all the lights on, taking photographs and uploading them to the page as she went, adding a description here, a sale price there. She searched a few local businesses, like Esther’s shop and the Indian restaurant and liked their pages. Hopefully, word would get around as more people saw the new page.
After setting the store up for the day, she still had an hour before opening, so printed out the signs she’d made and placed them in high visibility areas. Now to find a big box. There was nothing she could use in the storeroom, so Charlotte headed for the garage. In the wall behind her car was a door to another room, but she didn’t have a key
. She found a wooden carton on a shelf. This would do for the moment.
Charlotte lined its inside with Christmas paper and mounted a sign on its side. She popped it onto a small table a few feet in from the door, where customers would see it as they entered. As a finishing touch she wound tinsel around the table. A few photos later, she’d announced the initiative on Facebook.
You should be proud of yourself.
She was. And a bounce in her steps replaced the dragging of her legs from earlier in the morning. This was better. A whole lot better.
“That is the third book in half an hour!” Rosie wheeled around the counter to deposit a gift-wrapped book into the wooden carton. “Customers are loving the idea!”
“It really is win-win.” Charlotte was restocking shelves. “The customers feel good, the recipients will be delighted, and Kingfisher Falls Bookshop becomes a conduit. I loved your idea of putting five dollars from each donation sale into a cash fund as a little extra help. You are so generous.”
“And you, my clever friend, are a genius. This concept is a keeper, that’s for sure. But this little carton won’t cope if this continues.”
Charlotte finished and joined Rosie. “No, it won’t. Do you know if there is anything in the room behind the garage?”
“Oh. I’d forgotten about that. Maybe. My husband packed up what was left behind by the last owners. They left under rather…well, odd circumstances. They said to throw anything away, but Graeme couldn’t bring himself to do so. He always hoped someone from the family would come back and collect everything.”
“How long ago was this?”
“A long time. Way too long. Go take a peek and see if there’s something we can use. I think the key is the little one on my keychain. After Christmas, we might get in there and see what’s what.”
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