“Really?”
“Yeah. You know, it was so difficult to hear each other that we didn’t have to deal with trying to fill awkward silences.”
I laughed. “That’s true.”
Of course there was no avoiding the awkward moment of good-bye, but Seth did something unexpected that made my heart speed up a beat or two.
He held out his hand to shake. I laughed a little and reciprocated. But when he had my hand in his, he gently tugged me forward and kissed me on the cheek. At the moment—in fact, throughout the entire miserable date—he’d been really adorable, albeit in kind of a nerdy endearing way. The kiss moved him up from adorable to super-almost-irresistible adorable.
I had to fight the girly urge to put my fingers over the spot on my cheek that he’d kissed.
When he turned to walk back down the hill, I forgot all about the misery at O’Malley’s, and only looked forward to seeing Seth again, hopefully very soon.
9
My house had been in my family since Chester first moved to Star City. Though he and my grandmother had never lived in the little blue chalet at the top of the hill, they’d been the first ones to purchase it. They thought it would make a great rental property—what visiting skier in their right mind wouldn’t want to stay in the small blue house that was high enough on the hill to have a view of the Star City valley below and the mountains beyond? And not only were the views and the access to all the town’s amenities great selling points, but so was the access to the slopes. There was a ski-in-ski-out point up two houses and around a small curve.
Once my father had been old enough to have a place of his own, he’d become the chalet’s renter. He and my mom had lived there though Jimmy’s birth but needed more space when I came along, so we moved into a house in the valley, close to all the schools. A few years ago and long after both Jimmy and I had grown up and left home, they purchased a condo in Arizona and a condo in Salt Lake City. I didn’t think their snowbird lifestyle would last, and I missed having them close by. Jimmy and I had frequently discussed when we thought they might be back to Star City full time.
After we moved to the bigger house, the chalet had reverted back to being used for tourists—all of them giving it rave reviews regarding its charm and location. When I was old enough, I moved in. Chester didn’t want to worry about what would happen to it after he was gone, so he told me I could only live there if I bought it from him. That was an easy decision, and I didn’t pay nearly enough for it.
I loved Little Blue.
The main level was mostly just one big open space except for a couple pillars and a breakfast bar that separated the front living space from the back kitchen area. A window-walled dining room also extended out from the side of the kitchen and couldn’t be seen from the living room because it was tucked behind another wall. The dining room offered a perfect view of the biggest, most challenging slope at the resort. You could have dinner with friends and watch experts elegantly ski down the hill or brave novices roll down it. I’d yet to witness a serious injury, but I’d cringed and held my breath waiting for someone to stand up again a time or two.
I had the original dark wood floors polished and the inside walls painted a light cream color. The furniture was contemporary, not woodsy like the furniture in most of the log-cabin-type chalets in the area. There were windows everywhere, one on each side of the front door, and along the sides and back of the house. There were also two skylights on the peaked ceiling over the bedroom loft. Though the ceilings were low on the sides of the loft, the full-floor setup made for a fairly spacious bedroom where I had the most comfortable queen-size bed ever invented, a half bathroom, a walk-in (though not deep) closet, and a seating area. On clear nights, I spent a lot of time either in bed or on a chair looking up at the stars through the skylight windows. There was a reason we’d been given the name Star City, and on clear nights that reason was bright and breathtaking.
I’d barely had time to kick my shoes off by the front door when a knock startled me. I figured it must have been Seth, and I thought it was kind of cute that he’d wanted to see me again only a few moments after we’d said good-bye.
But it wasn’t Seth.
“Clare?” Oren O’Malley said as I opened the door.
“Mr. O’Malley?” I said. I looked around behind him, but there was no sign of anyone else, including Seth.
“Yes. Can I come in?”
I wanted to say no, but there probably wasn’t any harm in letting him. My family knew his family, even if we weren’t close enough to visit either of Oren’s boys during their incarcerations.
“Sure,” I said as I stepped back.
Oren’s steps were short but not terribly slow. His big body somehow looked more like it was scooting rather than walking as he made his way to my couch. He sat down with a gigantic plop and sigh.
“Did you walk up here from the bar?”
“Yes, I followed you and your date. Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”
“A friend,” was all I said as I took a seat in the chair next to the couch. Our families definitely weren’t close enough that I thought my date’s identity was any of Oren’s business.
“He likes you. You like him?”
“Mr. O’Malley, what can I do for you?”
“You can tell me why you were asking so many questions about me and my family and my past business.”
“I didn’t think I was asking anything that should warrant being followed home.”
“Any questions rouse my suspicion,” he said as he sat back on the couch and rubbed his finger under his nose.
“I just wondered about your family’s past businesses and if you all sold typewriters, particularly if you sold one to Mirabelle Montgomery back in the day.”
Oren looked at me a long moment and then laughed. It was a big belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes.
“Clare, either you’re making that up, or you certainly like to add drama to something that would warrant no drama whatsoever. Why didn’t you just come up to the bar and ask me these questions?”
“Because you were busy and you kind of scare me.”
After another moment of study, he laughed again. It wasn’t as big as the first laugh, though.
“Why in the world would I ever scare a Henry? Your grandfather and I have known each other forever. He knew my father.”
“He might know you and our families know each other, but I don’t know you all that well,” I said.
Oren nodded and I realized that he did everything big. Even his nod was bigger than a regular person’s nod.
“True. Mostly. You know my boys though.”
“I do,” I said, hoping I didn’t give away my feelings for those boys in my tone.
“Why were you asking about them?”
“That was just my curiosity. I’m sorry. None of my business really.” I hadn’t in any way tied one of the O’Malley boys to the body behind The Rescued Word, but their past behavior made me wonder. I didn’t want to be that honest with Oren.
“I know they’ve not been the best of boys, but they will get better,” he said.
“I’m sure.”
“No, really, Brian’s been pretty good for two years now, and Timothy will be released from prison very soon, maybe in the next couple of days. He’s a new man, Clare. In fact, and you’re going to think I’ve gone off my senses, but you might want to consider getting to know Brian a little better. A date or two wouldn’t hurt. A couple dates never hurt anyone. If you’re not serious about the guy from earlier, that is.”
Or unless Brian has become some sort of serial killer.
My imagination got the best of me for a moment, and Oren’s sudden matchmaking ideas were unexpected.
“We’ll see, Oren. I went to high school with Timothy and I think I knew Brian a little. He went to school with my brother. I don
’t think either Brian or I thought of each other in dating terms.”
Brian had been a miniature version of Oren but goth: all Irish eyes and ruddy skin, but with black clothes and black-lined eyes. He and I had never even had a conversation I could remember, let alone a flirtatious glance. Even though he was in my brother’s class, they never hung out either. Jimmy was the clean-cut football player; goth hadn’t been part of his high school world. I’d seen Brian around town (when he wasn’t in prison, of course) a time or two since high school but probably not in a few years. He’d lost the goth look but gained a dangerous edginess that gave his eyes a mean slant. I hadn’t struck up any conversations with him after high school either. I felt a little sorry for Oren and what I interpreted as his hopes for his boys to settle down and into something more normal. I wondered how many bar patrons he’d considered as possible dates for his sons.
But even if it was a character flaw on my part, I couldn’t find it in myself to leave the past behind. There was no way I could date someone who’d spent time in prison for auto theft and check fraud. Twice, if I remembered correctly. I was pretty open-minded, but not quiet that open-minded.
Also, there was that geologist and our potential future friendship to consider. No, I wasn’t going to date Brian.
“Ah, fooey,” Oren said. “You’re both grown up and look at life differently than when you were young ’uns. I’m telling you, Clare, there might be something there. Keep him in mind.”
I nodded as ambiguously as possible.
“All right, well, let’s get back to the typewriter business that started all of this in the first place. You want to know what, now?”
“I guess . . . First, did O’Malley’s Appliances sell typewriters? Maybe used ones?”
“Sure, probably, I think I remember that.”
Why in the world hadn’t I just gone up to the bar to ask Oren these questions? They were harmless, if handled directly. In fact, an even better idea would have been to call Oren during the bar’s quiet time and ask him over the phone. I’d turned this all into something it hadn’t needed to be.
“Any chance you sold one to Mirabelle Montgomery?” I said.
Oren didn’t laugh this time, just smiled and shook his head a little. “Clare, I suppose that if Mirabelle Montgomery bought a typewriter during the time that O’Malley’s sold typewriters, there’s a good chance we sold her one. Do I know about that particular moment? Do I still have any sort of sales records from back then? No, my dear, I’m afraid I do not.”
I grimaced. “I know. It was stupid of me to think that it was possible.”
“Why is this something you need to know?”
“Mirabelle has had a typewriter for years. It’s an old Underwood, and I’d like to see if we can track down more of them. I know collectors.” It was a believable lie. And I really did know collectors.
Oren shook his head. “Check out the Internet.”
“We have, and we will some more. Look, Oren, I’m sorry I was so weird. I really didn’t mean to be. You’re right, I should have just come up to the bar and asked you about the appliance store. There was no need for all the cloak-and-dagger stuff, and if I wanted to know about your sons, I should have asked you that directly too.”
Oren rubbed his chin, and like all his other movements, this one was supersized and kind of rough. I wondered if he hurt himself, but he didn’t act as though he did.
“There’s something you’re not telling me, Clare Henry. Any chance I can get it out of you?” He smiled a too-toothy smile, trying to make me think he could handle being jovial just fine.
This time I laughed.
“No, I’m not hiding anything. Except, maybe I should tell you that I did kind of like that guy I was with. I should probably exhaust that romantic avenue before Brian and I get engaged or anything.”
“I see how you are,” Oren said jokingly. “Well, we’ll give this new fella a little time, but I’m going to plant the seed in Brian’s mind.”
“Sure.”
Oren’s departure was friendlier and less suspicious than his arrival. I watched his funny short-stepped shuffle as he made his way down my porch steps and then the sidewalk back toward the bar. He reminded me of a Weeble, and I was glad he didn’t fall down. I didn’t think I could get him upright on my own.
It had been a full day, and I was tired enough to crawl into bed without giving Seth, Oren, Chester, Jodie, or the twinkling stars above another thought.
10
Though The Rescued Word could get pretty busy, I’d never seen the crowd inside comprised solely of people I knew.
As I strolled toward the door, I stopped short. Instead of going right in, I peered inside and took a moment to evaluate the crowd, quickly deciding there might be too much company in there, and I might just want to go home and come back again later.
Chester was there, seemingly both irritated and amused by all the different conversations that were taking place, his attention flitting from one person to another.
Creighton was also there, holding Mirabelle’s typewriter as he talked to Mirabelle—I assumed they were discussing the typewriter. Actually, Mirabelle was probably telling Creighton to give her back her property and he was trying to explain the police procedure for doing that. How they’d come to be at the store together was a mystery.
Marion and her father—my brother, Jimmy, were also there. Those two were off to one side, probably discussing something that caused all parents and teenagers to look annoyed, not just them.
Jodie and Seth were there, standing next to each other and chatting in a front corner of the store. They looked friendly enough, but Jodie was surely grilling poor Seth about his income and health and relationship history. I felt sorry for him, but I deserved it, I guess.
I decided it was best to go in and get it over with, whatever it was. As I opened the door and went though, the first person to greet me wasn’t a person at all, but Baskerville. He wasn’t on a high shelf yet, but jumped up from the floor to one of the middle shelves as I entered. He had a throaty meow/growl he often used to show his displeasure. He sent one of those my direction, though I knew it wasn’t about me. He was relaying his displeasure at so many humans in his space.
“I know, but I suspect they’ll all be gone in a few minutes. I’ll kick them out if I have to,” I said to him as I scratched behind one of his ears. His look told me that he certainly hoped so.
“Clare, hi!” Jodie said with a too-friendly smile and wave.
I nodded her direction.
“Hi, honey,” Chester said as he leaned on a middle shelf, taking on a long-legged Fred Astaire pose. “We have company.”
“I see that. I’ll be with you in a second, Jodie and Seth,” I said. I didn’t acknowledge Jimmy and Marion. They might not be there for me, and they were family; they could wait.
“Creighton, I see you brought Mirabelle’s typewriter back. You done with it?” I said.
“We are,” Creighton said. “We got the numbers and letters, but we have no idea what they mean. I asked Chester if he had any idea.”
“I don’t,” Chester said.
“Right,” Creighton said to him. “Anything special about typewriters that would cause them to have that stuff scratched on the bar things?” Creighton said to me.
“Key bars. No, nothing that I’m aware of,” I said.
“I see,” Creighton said. I caught his quick but questioning glance toward Seth. I also caught Jodie’s smile and Seth’s confused and uneasy demeanor. Poor guy; between my friends, my family, and my own behavior on our first date, surely he’d given up hope that things were going to improve.
“Can Mirabelle have it back?” I asked.
“Yeah, Creighton, can I have it back?” she said to him but smiled at me.
“I just wanted to make sure Clare was done fixing it,” Creighton said. “And
. . .”
“I am done fixing it. And what?”
“I’ll be happy to carry it back to your house, Mirabelle,” Creighton said, doing one of the things that Creighton did best: throw in something gentlemanly every now and then to keep everyone on their toes.
“No, that’s okay. I brought the car over today. Grocery store day,” Mirabelle said.
“I’ll be happy to take it out to the car,” Creighton said.
“No, it’s okay. Just set it down. I want to . . . Just set it down, please, Creighton,” Mirabelle said. For an instant I felt a little sorry for Creighton and his genuine attempt to be kind to Mirabelle.
Creighton set the typewriter down next to Baskerville, who sniffed at the short return bar. The slots below in the low shelf held pastel-colored papers on one side and dark greens and reds on the other. I called it our holiday shelf; one side reminded customers of Easter and the other side, Christmas.
Creighton steeled himself and then turned to Chester. “Thank you. We’ll let you know if we need to look at anything in the store more closely.” Then he turned to me. “Clare, I need to talk to you further. Can you come with me back to the station?”
Chester stopped leaning and stepped toward me, and Jodie moved around Seth and joined us too. Jimmy and Marion stayed back from the crowd. I could see the look of indecision pass over Jimmy’s features. He wasn’t sure whether his daughter needed to witness whatever would happen next.
“Why do you need to talk to Clare?” Chester said.
“Police business,” Creighton said.
“It’s official business, Clare. I’m sure Creighton hadn’t planned on announcing to the world that he wanted to talk to you, but the store was pretty busy this morning and he probably couldn’t figure out a better way to do it,” Jodie said with just enough bite that everyone in Star City probably either heard or felt the shockwave from her stern tone.
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