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He had expected a lot of stares and while he did get a lot of curious looks, he also got dozens of pleasant "hellos" like he belonged there, like he wasn't some suit-wearing outsider on their turf for unknown reasons.
He had just passed the diner, the big windows full of families having breakfast, despite it being a week day. He saw a gas station with a mechanic shop he had missed the night before, thankful because he was low on fuel.
"Excuse me, handsome," a voice called out excitedly. He kept walking, not registering it was being directed at him. "Take it easy on a lady, I ain't no spring chicken anymore," she called, closer this time and Elliott stopped, realizing she was speaking to him. He turned to find a middle aged woman with a slightly heavy build and a long black braid down her back. Her face was unusually wrinkle free, the skin naturally tight and a rich, deep brown. "There ya go. Good."
"Can I help you?" Elliott asked, his voice a sight more friendly than he had been the night before to pretty Emily.
The woman laughed, causing at least five strings of beads to beat against her chest. "Oh you don't have to pull that 'I better be nice to the old broad' thing with me. I know you're one sour man usually."
"Do I know you?" he asked, his voice his usual clipped tone.
"Oh, heavens no. No. How could you think that? I ain't never seen you before nor you me. No. I am Maude. Maude Mays. I knew you were here last night but that was an unnatural hour to come calling. So, I just waited. Anywho. The Clary's house is the other way. Back toward the inn. Take a right down the next street. It says Pine Berry Lane. They live at fourteen." she said, turning as if to walk away.
"Wait... how did you..."
"Oh, honey," she said, looking over her shoulder at him but moving forward. "I know everything."
Elliott shook his head at the weirdness. How could someone know why he was there? Who he was there to see? Whatever the reason, he turned and started back toward the street Maude Mays had indicated.
He got to fourteen, a neat pretty cottage with a creative rainbow colored cobblestone path to the front door. He strode up quickly, knocking three times before he could lose his nerve.
The door opened quickly as if someone had just been passing by as he walked up. In the open door stood Mrs. Clary, her black hair in a messy bun with two knitting needles sticking out of it. She smiled at him, automatically charming and kind. "Hi can I help you?"
"I... umm... yes. I am looking for Hannah," he said, feeling like a teenager asking the parents if he could take their only daughter on a date.
A crease formed between Mrs. Clary's eyebrows. "I'm sorry but Hannah doesn't live here. She hasn't for many years."
"Oh," Elliott said, his shoulders sinking. "I thought she had come here for a visit. My apologies," he said and was down the path before she could comment further. She closed the door and he pictured her going right for the phone to call Hannah.
They hadn't seen her, he realized as he made his way back into the inn. She wasn't in Stars Landing. She wasn't at work. She wasn't at her apartment. Where the hell was she?
His slight worry from the day before rose to a real, tangible dread. What was going on? He closed the front door to the inn too roughly, making someone who had been sitting reading in the seating area to jump and look over. He walked toward the stairs only to be grabbed by his upper arm.
"Not so fast," Emily's voice found him and he turned quickly. Her eyes looked angry, her features serious. "What the hell are you doing looking for Hannah?"
Elliott felt his stomach tighten. God, what had he gotten himself into?
Emily none-too-gently pulled him back toward the reception desk, checking around before speaking again. "I asked you a question. Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Elliot Michaels."
"Elliot Michaels. I know. I checked you in. Wait. Oh. EM. You're EM. As in the place. As in where Hannah works." A look of sincere worry crossed her face. "What's going on? Where's Hannah?"
Elliott ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. That's why I'm here. She left a note yesterday saying she would be gone for two weeks. No reason. She hasn't been answering her phone. She wasn't at home. I'm worried."
Emily's eyebrow raised a bit. She knew it was more than him looking for his employee. She was a keen, intelligent young woman. "Her mom can't get in touch with her. And even I haven't heard from her in days," she supplied and Elliott was left realizing this woman was one of Hannah's friends, someone she must have grown up with. "This isn't like her. She always answers. She doesn't want to worry anyone. Was something wrong with her?"
"She's been... off lately. I dunno. Seems upset about something."
"Shit," Emily said, reaching for her phone and punching a number. She let it ring and hung up, frustrated.
"You seem to know her," Elliott said, hopeful, "where would she go?"
Emily shrugged, raising her hands in defeat for a moment before a light hit her eyes. "Sam's. She would go to Sam's."
"Who is Sam?" he asked, trying not to sound jealous.
"Her ex from when they were kids. She would probably go there. And he wouldn't rat on her. They were always really close. They haven't talked in forever but if something was wrong and she didn't want to be pestered about it, she would go see him."
