Stalked In Conard County

But he’d been alone eventually anyway. Those summers he’d driven her to stay with her grandmother for a few weeks, and then when she’d knuckled down on her studies, determined to enter a medical career. Like all kids, she became eighteen and moved on to bigger dreams.

Her dad had evidently had some dreams of his own. These days he was working in the Middle East and would occasionally call her with stories of exotic places, but no, she shouldn’t visit him, because life was uncomfortable there for women.

So, once in a while, like her brother, he passed through her life.

But she had a good life, she reminded herself as the kettle whistled and she made a fresh cup of tea. Maybe, however, she’d caught a touch of her dad’s wanderlust. Maybe that was making her think of leaving everything behind to move to Wyoming.

Although moving here didn’t sound so fantastic after last night. But stamped in her brain like a tattoo was the memory of the moon and seeing that guy peering in, silhouetted against its light. Sheesh, maybe she’d seen a werewolf or something.

The tea tasted good and energized her. There was definitely a nap in her future, but she had wanted to sort through the sideboard in the dining room, with its drawers full of treasured table linens and, once upon a time, a bag of candy corn for a little girl who could have a few if she was very good.

A smile danced across her lips as she carried her cup into the dining room and set it carefully on a hand-crocheted doily that she remembered making when she was about nine. Imagine Grandma saving that all these years. A warmth suffused her and she faced the real reason she wanted to stay. For all she’d built a life in Baltimore, this was the only place that had truly meant home to her.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she pulled out the bottom drawer. Carefully folded tablecloths filled it, and the scent of lavender aroused her senses.

“Haley?”

It sounded as if Roger was at the top of the basement stairs. “I’m in here,” she called back. “Need something?”

“Lunch,” he admitted as he entered the dining room. She felt him stand just a little behind her. “That’s beautiful,” he remarked.

She reached out and touched the top layer, a carefully handcrafted lace table cover. As her hand brushed it, she heard the layers of protective tissue underneath rustle slightly. “Lots of history here,” she said. “You want me to make lunch?”

“Heck no. I was thinking about running out and picking something up. You want?”

It was still early, but the egg and toast had vanished some time ago. A glance toward the Regulator caused her to wonder where the hours had gone. She hadn’t done that much. Had she? Maybe dozed while she was sitting here, given last night.

“Sure,” she said after a moment. She started to close the drawer, but Roger squatted beside her and surprised her. “There’s a story in that drawer.”

She glanced at him and saw his expectant smile. “There probably is,” she admitted. “The sad thing about us when we’re young is that we aren’t always interested in stuff that might be important later. I have a vague memory of Grandma telling me that this drawer holds tablecloths and napkins that belonged to her mother and grandmother. Maybe her great-grandmother. I wish I remembered. Anyway, this top one? Hand-crocheted by my great-grandmother, if I remember correctly. This is a drawer full of antiques and lost memories.”

“That’s at once neat and sad.”

“Yeah.” She slowly pushed the drawer in. “She did try to tell me. The drawer above has her personal tablecloths. The ones she used frequently. They’re pretty, I remember that much. And this top drawer? I believe it holds her family silver. It also held candy corn for me.”

He laughed at that, bringing an answering smile to her face. “I don’t suppose someone in your family would know the history of the tablecloths?”

“Not likely. I don’t think my dad would have been even as interested as I was, which isn’t saying much. Not guy stuff, you know?” She got herself to her feet and pulled the top drawer open. To her amazement, a small, tied-off bag of candy corn sat in one corner. She touched it with a fingertip and felt her eyes burn as she blinked back a few tears. “Aww, Grandma.” After all these years. Then her gaze fell on some ceramic squares, maybe an inch-and-a-half on each side, the glaze crazed from the years, but not so much that the brown pattern wasn’t visible. “Butter dishes,” she said. “Now, those did belong to my great-great-grandmother. I think Grandma said they were well over a hundred years old when she showed them to me. See, I do remember something.”

Beside them was the big, flat, wooden box that held silverware. The silver was probably tarnished and in need of good cleaning by now. Flora had let some things go over time.

Haley slid the drawer closed and when it stuck just a bit, she decided she needed to wax the runners. “This house is full of treasures,” she told Roger. “I just wish I knew more.”

“Maybe some of her friends know something. She had a pretty tight-knit group at the church. I’m sure they’d be glad to share anything they know.”

“Good idea.” She faced him. “Do I need to change into something that doesn’t look like it came from a rag bin?”

He laughed. “For around here, you look fine, like any other hard worker. Grab whatever you need. Did Flora ever take you to Maude’s diner?”

“Probably.” She shook her head a little as if trying to free a memory. “Is that the one called the City Diner now? Just off Main?”

“The same.”

That brought another smile to Haley’s face. “Now, there’s another story. I guess I should close the windows.”

Roger hesitated. “Usually, I’d say it’s not necessary. But after last night…yeah. I’ll go around and help you.”

Though it was only a few blocks to the diner, Roger insisted on driving. “You had a rough night. A walk might really wake you up, but a good meal might help you nap.”

She certainly didn’t feel like arguing. She’d been feeling like a squirrel on high alert since the middle of the night, and no matter how much she thought she was relaxing, even having slept briefly shortly after four, part of her clung to a deep tension. Man, she had to get over this. So some random creep had peered in her window. He’d leave her alone if she kept the curtains closed, and eventually he’d peep in a window where someone would recognize him. Anonymity, she remembered her grandmother saying, didn’t come easily in these parts.

The streets looked so familiar to her, though, and soon she forgot the night and began remembering being outside on a breezy summer afternoon, jumping rope, playing hopscotch, or just sitting on the grass and looking up through leafy trees at the bottomless blue of the sky. When Roger’d had some free time, he was kind and would bring over a board game. Together they’d sit on the porch for hours playing Parcheesi, backgammon or checkers. Often her grandmother had brought them a pitcher of fresh-made lemonade, tart and sweet all at once.

She glanced his way again and noted once more how the gangly kid had filled out. In all the right ways, too. A surreptitious smile caught her mouth as she quickly looked away.

“You said there was a story about this diner,” Roger remarked as he steered them into a parking place almost directly in front of it.

Haley noted that it hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Way back when, around the time this place was first being settled, my great-great-grandmother—at least I think it was, I keep losing track of the greats.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he answered lightly as he turned off his truck’s ignition.

She laughed. “There’s a lot of them. Anyway, about the turn of the twentieth century, or just before, my ancestors settled here. Grandad opened an apothecary and, right off it, my grandmother at the time opened a lunch counter. I hear it was quite busy with folks who traveled through by train. The tracks aren’t that far from here, as I recall.”

“They’re near, not that you can tell that often anymore. Few enough trains come through here.”

She nodded and pointed at the diner. “It was right there. Anyway, Grandma said they retired just before the war and their son sold it to whoever Maude inherited it from.”

“Your roots go deep around here.”

“Some of them. Others kind of sprang up elsewhere. Grandma didn’t talk a lot about it, but you know Miss Emma, right? The librarian?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” he asked wryly. “Founding family.”

“Exactly. The McKinseys weren’t far behind.”

“Another reason to stay,” he remarked lightly. Then he climbed out and came around to open her door for her. “Eat well,” he said as he helped her down. “Food is good and plentiful and, with any luck, you’ll be lights out by sunset so you can catch up on your sleep.”

“That’d be nice.” Fatigue hadn’t reached her yet, but she figured her nursing schedule had made her reasonably immune to the occasional long stint. She could handle it for a while. Tonight she would probably crash into a dead sleep, disturbed by nothing short of an emergency.

Inside, the diner was reasonably quiet, just a few of the tables busy. Either they were ahead of the lunch rush or behind it, but they had no trouble getting a table in the back. Haley had little desire at the moment to sit in front of a window. Sheesh, she thought, that needed to stop before the fear dug in.

Maude, who looked as if she hadn’t changed a bit in twenty years, slapped menus in front of them and filled coffee cups without asking. “Got fancier stuff now, if you want one of them lattes.” Then she peered at Haley. “Well, well, well. Heard you was in town. Wondered when you’d show up.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How are you doing, Maude?”

“Same as usual. Mavis is helping me out these days, but she’s got a lot to learn.”

Haley figured Mavis would never learn enough to suit her mother. Maude was born to be a dragon.