by Zoe Tasia
“You’re looking at it.”
“I mean...well, who do I speak to about a postal issue?”
“My uncle, I suppose, but really people just come here to pick up post, drop it off, and buy stamps and such. Most of the real post office business is done on the mainland.”
“I’d like to talk to him just the same.”
The nephew heaved a great, put-upon sigh and stood.
“He’s in the back. I’ll go fetch ’im.” The nephew sauntered toward the counter.
Thanks, I said to myself and mentally rolled my eyes.
As I waited, I began to restack and reclaim the cans that had gone higgledy-piggledy all over. As I gathered ones that rolled increasingly farther from the display, I reached the counter. The last one was behind it. The counter was old style. The nephew left the part of the countertop, which swung up to admit the clerk, open. I admired the old timey cash register that a museum would probably love to have, misjudging the distance and kicking the can. The can rolled through an open door at the back corner, continuing to bounce down a flight of stairs. It came to a stop, but the door at the end wasn’t shut completely and the can bumped it ajar. I walked down the stairs and couldn’t resist peeking inside. I looked behind me, but there was neither sight nor sound of either of the McNeils, so I pushed the door open.
A few more stairs continued down, and overhead, beams were exposed in the unfinished basement. I pressed the light switch near the entrance, illuminating the area, and ventured down to the landing. When I turned, I saw a barred area in the back corner. Jeez, is this the local jail too? Pieces of silverware were lined up in the slots between the bars and what appeared to be silver necklaces were wrapped around the door frame and lock. Okay—this is weird. Worried that I shouldn’t be down here, I quickly retraced my steps, turned off the light, and closed the door. When I reached to pick up the errant can, I heard Conall call my name. I ran up the rest of the stairs in time to see him step out from behind the nearest shelves. I smiled awkwardly.
“What are you doing behind the counter?” he asked as he rounded the corner, took my elbow, and pulled me out to the opposite side. I didn’t resist but, honestly—it wasn’t like my hand was in the till.
“I damaged your bean pyramid and one of the cans rolled back here.” I brandished the offending one.
“Oh, well, if anything like that ever happens again, leave it, and I’ll deal with it. No one is allowed past the counter, except me and those who help out on the rare occasion—which are always family members.”
“I apologize. I was just trying to help.” Anxious to change the topic, I asked, “How would I go about finding someone’s address? The net seems to be up one moment and down the next. I thought you, being the postmaster so to speak, could tell me and might even know the address.”
“Could be. Whose address are you looking for?”
I really didn’t want to tell him about asking Greg over. He had been very helpful too, even though he didn’t save my life and he might feel hurt if I didn’t invite him. I cast my mind about trying to think of a good reason. Aha! “I accidently ended up with Greg Gillie’s kerchief and wanted to drop it by.”
“Him?” Conall said flatly. “He lives out in the forest. He never gets mail.”
“Okay, he has to get some mail...like stuff from the government or...well, he doesn’t own the forest, does he? How is it that he’s even allowed to live there?”
“I don’t know all of the details, but he’s allowed. Tender-hearted islanders, no doubt, turning a blind eye to the unfortunate homeless man camping in the woods. We don’t fash ourselves about such as that. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”
I knew a brush off when I heard it. “No. Thanks for your help. In what direction is the newspaper?”
“The courthouse and the newspaper are two of the first buildings that were built. Most of the tourists get their pictures taken in front of them.”
“Oh, you mean the impressive buildings at the very end of the block?” I had not managed to go all the way down to the edge of the village, but I couldn’t help but admire their grandeur.
“Aye. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have some work to do.”
I wonder why he’s so upset anytime Greg is mentioned. Did they have some sort of major falling out?
The romantic in me speculated briefly about both loving the same girl until I reminded myself that Greg was a grieving widower who, from what Kay said, never ever recovered from the loss of his wife and child. Speaking of which—I wonder exactly how they died. Perhaps I could find something in the newspaper archive. I really hoped if they didn’t have it all on a computer, which I seriously doubted, they would at least have it on microfilm or microfiche. “Sorry to have bothered you, Mr. McNeil. Have a nice day.”
He muttered, “And you,” as he turned and went through another door that I imagined led to the office. The sullen nephew came out and, without a word to me, picked up a broom and swept as if I brought in all kinds of dirt.
Okay—fine.
As I walked down the cobbled streets, I admired the other buildings. Most appeared to be constructed of granite, but a warmer color of gray than what was used in Aberdeen. Roses twined up trellises along the walls, splashing yellows, pinks, and reds. Sun shone down on the leaves of the honeysuckle-garlanded oaks dappling the bright sidewalks with shade. Despite the penchant for the locals to use brightly colored paints on the trim and doors, the buildings really were beautiful, without being gaudy, and well kept. Not a bit of modernization had occurred, as far as I could see, and I felt as if I had been plucked up and put back to an earlier time. I walked up the stairs to the front of the building Conall had spoken of. Double doors were in the middle and then two other doors were on each side. I opened the double doors. The sign on the front indicated that this was also the library. Here, I saw my first sign of changes made to an older building. What must have once been a large room was now divided into smaller open rooms with shelves of books. A young lady sat at a gray granite counter reading, but looked up at the sound of the door opening. A bright smile crested her face as a look of recognition set in.
“Hello! You’re the new boarder at Mrs. Grant’s cottage. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the party.” The girl looked to be about eighteen. She came around the counter to my side and warmly shook my hand. Her wavy black hair was braided with the tail hanging down over one shoulder. She wore a collared, polo-like shirt and a short jeans skirt.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you. I have an awful memory for names and faces and...”
“And, though we are a small village, meeting everyone all at once is enough to discomfort anyone. My name is Fiona Campbell. I’m distantly related to Kay.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. She told me she had only lived here for five years.”
“’Tis true, that. Her side of the family moved to the mainland, and we rarely saw them. Then Kay came over for a visit...let’s see...I think I was eleven, so about eight years ago. She must have enjoyed herself because the summer next, she started looking for a house to stay in and, as luck would have it, her own family’s cottage was standing empty. Wonderful coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it is.”
Once Fiona told me, I could see the resemblance. Their eyes were shaped the same, tilted, and a unique shade of hazel. Both were slender without being skinny and small boned without looking like a young boy.
“What can I do for you? Or are you just over to look around? Many tourists come in to take photos and have a gander. I can take you round for a tour, if you want. We aren’t busy. It’s too early for the first of the visitors.”
“Thank you, maybe later. There are a couple of things I wanted to ask about.” She looked at me expectantly. I cleared my throat. “I’m trying to find out where someone lives. The man was at the party too, briefly.” I remembered how unpleasant Conall was and how quickly Greg left.
“Do you know his name?
”
“Yes, yes, I do. His name is Greg Gillie.”
“Oooh, he’s a right looker for an older man.”
Older man? Guess that makes me an older woman. I smothered a sigh.
“My mum calls him Gorgeous Gillie.” She hoisted herself up on the counter top and patted it. I hopped up too, but nowhere near as gracefully. “I don’t rightly know his address,” she continued. “He lives in the forest. I think maybe he’s one of those doomsday people that’s preparing for the end of the world. He wears old-timey clothes and uses snares to catch conies. He’s rarely in town.”
I’d had such high hopes. Darn!
Noticing my crestfallen look, she said, “Let me go back to the newspaper archive. I might be able to find some mention of him. I think he’s something of a local hero. The older folk go on about him saving some children. I tend to shut it out. It happened ages ago.”
“Fiona Campbell, ‘you’re my only hope,’” I said.
Thankfully, she recognized the quote and grinned.
“Do you suppose I could go down with you and do some research?” I asked.
Fiona lowered her eyes and shook her head. “You would need to sign some papers and show ID. I’m officially only supposed to check books in and out, but I’ve helped my mum with the paper a bit. I know she wouldn’t mind me looking around, as long as I was very careful to put everything back where it belonged. She might not be as happy having a stranger there unsupervised, though.”
“That’s too bad. I really wanted to find out more about the village while I was here,” I improvised. “I was a literature major in school and thought I could look at the old newspapers. Maybe find out about how the village was founded and by whom, if there were any legends associated with this place. That sort of thing.”
“Well, Mum’s on the mainland right now, but if you stop by tomorrow, she should be here. If you give me a few minutes, I’ll hop down for a quick look and see if I can find out anything about his address. I can’t stay away from the counter too long in case others come in, but maybe I’ll get lucky.”
She lifted her legs, spun around facing the back, and leapt off the counter top. I levered myself off and wandered over to the stacks.
The books were well kept. The front few rows contained the newer fiction and a carousel display rack that held the latest paperbacks stood in one corner. Those books showed quite a bit of wear. The romance section was twice as large as any of the other paperback sections. I trusted that Fiona would find me when she came back and if not, I would see her on my way out. I ventured to the very back of the stacks where I found the nonfiction. Some of the books were so old that I never would expect to see them outside a museum or rare books shop. A dark blue one on the bottom shelf caught my eye.
I sat Indian style on the floor and plucked it out. The gold embossed title on the spine was too worn to read. I opened the book to the title page. Local Herbs and Their Uses by Helga Grant. I wondered if she was related to the owner of our cottage. “Perhaps I’ll give her a ring and ask her about it,” I mused, flipping through the pages, and started to read.
MY BACK ACHED AND I realized I had been sitting there a long time. I glanced at my phone Eeep! It was almost two o’clock. I needed to get back to the cottage. I started to put the book back but changed my mind and carried it to the front.
“Found something?” Fiona asked as she put down the university catalogue she had been perusing.
“Yes, I did. How did you fare with the address?”
“Sorry to say, I struck out. When my mum gets back, I’ll ask her about it. If you come tomorrow, perhaps she’ll at least have a good idea where to start looking if she doesn’t find it right away. She knows this place like the back of her hand.” She reached out for the book. “Ooh, this is an old one.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a paper and pen. “You’ll need to fill this out to get a library card, but it won’t take long.” Shaking her finger at me and scowling, she said, “Don’t be late or we’ll hunt you down and demand the book returned plus late fees.”
She grinned to let me know she was jesting, but I remembered some pretty strict librarians back in my home town. They looked like they sucked lemons and they could sniff out a fine on you as soon as you opened the library doors. I took the clipboard with the form to a table. It asked for the usual stuff—name, address, et cetera. I put the cottage address, since that’s where they would find me, then in smaller letters, I wrote in my Aberdeen address.
It was unlikely that I would forget to return a book and end up taking it home, but there was a possibility that one of the girls might. Plus, maybe they needed that info too and better to just fill in something a little extra than be sent back to add something I thought was unnecessary. I returned the form and Fiona gave me a temporary library card until a proper one was made. I glanced to check the information and immediately gave it back to her with the book.
She flipped to the back. “Wow, this hasn’t been checked out in ages. I don’t ever even remember seeing it, and I spend a lot of time here. I thought I could at least recognize all the books even if I hadn’t already read them. Where did you find this?”
“In the very last row on the bottom shelf. It was pushed in a bit, so maybe you didn’t see it.”
“No, Mum is very picky about the library looking nice. She has me go down and make sure the books are lined up evenly as possible and the title and author is clearly visible. This book—I can’t even read the spine. Mum would have made a jacket for it, if she saw it. Maybe a new batch of books arrived. We don’t have much money to buy them, so we don’t get a lot of new books. Sometimes one of the villagers will clean out the house and decide they would rather the books clutter up our shelves instead of theirs. I’ll have to ask her.”
I smiled and accepted the book. “Your mom is going to get a lot of questions when she returns.”
“She’ll think it’s cool. Things can be so sleepy and dull here. She loves a good mystery novel too. If you’re interested, we have more than you would expect a library of this size to have. Mum says it’s a librarian perk.”
I tucked the book under my arm. “I’ve gotta run. My daughters are waiting for me. The girls are old enough to be home alone, but my youngest is a bit under the weather. Thanks again. I’m sure I will be back.”
“I’m sure you will too if only to return that book and avoid the wrath of the librarian. Hey, Wrath of the Librarian would be a cool name for a band.” I thought she was kidding, but she found a scratch piece of paper and made note of it
Chapter 11
SINCE THE TEA SHOP was on my way, I thought I would stop by and see if Kay was there. If so, maybe she’d be ready to go home and could give me a ride back.
Business seemed good but not crazy busy as it was on the weekend. Marnie waved me in as she replenished a platter and placed it back on the shelf behind the glass display. When I reached the counter, I inhaled the yummy aroma of fresh-baked scones. Just then, Kay popped out from the kitchen carrying another cookie sheet.
“Hi, Marnie—Kay,” I said.
“Would you like a scone?” Marnie gestured with the spatula. “This one broke so we won’t be selling it.”
“I’d love one, but I need to rush home. I’m late and the girls are no doubt wondering where I am. I tried to call, but couldn’t get through.”
“That happens. For some reason, any complicated, new invention tends to be finicky about working regular like,” Marnie commented as she emptied the cookie sheet onto another plate. “You know, Kay, I think I have things under control if you want to leave early.”
“Oh, thanks, Marnie. I have a feeling that Becca’s angling for a lift.”
I chuckled. “That obvious, huh?”
“It’s okay. I was going to ask Marnie if I could pop out and take you, but this works even better. You’re lucky I brought my car in today. A package I’ve been waiting for came in yesterday. I didn’t want to pack it home on the bus, so I waited and brought the car i
n today to pick it up.”
“So, you need to go to the post office, before we leave?” I really didn’t want to see Conall again, not after knocking over the display and agitating his good humor.
“No, I picked it up when I arrived. It’s sitting in the car, so I’m ready whenever you are. Just let me hang up my apron and get my purse.”
“Well, this changes things.” I quickly pointed out some goodies to buy and Marnie had just handed me my change when Kay came back.
“Couldn’t resist, huh?” she said with a grin.
“It’s a wonder you’re so slender. If I worked here, within a month, my pants would be too tight.”
“Funny, you get used to it always being around,” Marnie said. “Since it’s readily available, you tend to crave other things that you can’t get here.”
After we said goodbye, I followed Kay to her car.
The girls were indeed already home, and Jessie ran out to meet me.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, hon, I was at the library and got distracted.”
Jess tugged on my hand. She didn’t even greet Kay which was so not like her.
“Is everything all right, Jess?”
“Hello, Jess,” Kay said. “Has something happened?”
“Hello, Miss Sheey. I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to speak to my mom.”
“Not at all. I need to be on my way anyway.”
I reached out to touch Kay’s arm. “Are you sure? I’d planned to put the kettle—” I began.
Kay shook her head and backed toward her car. “Another time, certainly. I’m off tomorrow, so I might pop by, if that’s okay with you?”
“Anytime, Kay. I think the only thing I have planned is another trip to the library.”
“Cheerio. Be seeing you,” Kay said.
Instead of going in the cottage, Jess sat on the bench beside the door. There didn’t seem to be an emergency. If it was, she would have told me right away, but something was wrong.