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3
Bree
“Hello, Mr. Shilliday,” I say, as I enter the hardware store the next morning. The bell above the door tinkles, alerting him of my presence. Not that he really needs to be alerted, since his eyes are always watching the door. He greets me from behind the counter with a warm smile.
“Good day to you, Bree,” the old man smiles warmly, “the weather’s picking up, I see.” He points at the outside with his chin.
“Yes,” I reply with a nod. “It looks like it’s going to be a hot one.”
Mr. Shilliday is tall and thin, and reminds me of a long-legged bird, like a stalk or a heron. Maybe it’s the long nose, maybe it’s the string thin arms and legs, maybe it’s the way he moves in sharp, jerky movements. I don’t really know. What I do know is, if he turned to me and suddenly squawked instead of talked, I wouldn’t at all be surprised or taken aback. But he’s kind and pleasant, whatever kind of bird he is. And while he hasn’t actually told me, I just know he’s lived in this place all his life. Like he’s part of the town’s architecture, or the foundations.
Slowly but surely, I’m getting to know the folks in this small town. Mrs. Briars runs the grocery store. She’s also chairman of some committee to do with the town fair, which begins this weekend.
Bella and Sylvie run the hairdressers and beauty parlor, a tiny establishment, perfectly suited for the needs of this town. Bella is older, I’d say about fifty-ish, with black bobbed hair which, I’m afraid to say, does not do anything for her short neck. But hey, who am I to judge? Sylvie, on the other hand, is a little younger than me. Maybe twenty-two or three. She’s slender and pretty, with bleach blonde hair that, unlike Bella, suits her very well.
I met them both on the day I actually moved.
Driving through the town, I had no idea how to get to my cottage, or where I was going. Stopping in Sharon Springs, my new home, I pulled over right outside Silver Belle. That’s the name of their parlor. A very clever play on words, I thought. I was in my car and tried to reach Sharon Springs through Google maps, which was harder than I thought. It eventually did get me to Sharon Springs, but before that, it sent me down Lord only knows how many random dirt tracks. In the end, I came back to the town to get my bearings.
“Are you lost, honey?” A voice came through my open window.
I looked up to find Bella peaking in at my driver’s side, and Sylvie on the passenger side, my head bobbing from one to the other.
“Well, yes.” I conceded. “Completely.”
“Oh, darling,” Bella drawled. “Where do you wanna go?”
When I told her, her little round face lit up. “Are you the new owner of Carter’s cottage?”
I admit, I wasn’t quite expecting that response. How she could have known that, I could hardly imagine back then. But I know now.
“Sylvie, get the keys. You drive in front and take…” Bella stopped and looked down at me expectantly.
“Oh, er, Bree.”
“Oh, what a cute name,” Bella said, beaming another huge smile.
I got the distinct impression that Bella wore that smile even when she slept. I could feel this vibrant energy coming off of her at all times. And it wasn’t pretentious delight; something you’ll see so often in the city. This woman was just genuinely happy.
“Sylvie, get the car, and take Bree to Carter’s cottage.”
“Oh, no. I can’t put you through the trouble,” I said to Sylvie, who looked just as pleasant as her coworker.
“It’s no trouble,” Sylvie said. “We don’t have anyone coming in for another hour. It’ll pass the time.”
Don’t get me wrong. New Yorkers are great. They pull together in a crisis and help each other out. But the city is just so busy. Everybody was always in too much rush to be able to just drop everything they were doing and go help a stranger, like Sylvie was about to do.
No amount of protest would change her mind; in the end, I just relented. When we finally arrived, she jumped out of her car and handed me a slip of paper.
“There’s my number. If you need anything at all, you just call me up.”
“Thank you,” I replied, a little flabbergasted.
“It’s no trouble. We’re neighbors now, after all.”
Like an idiot, I looked about for another house, even though I knew my newly purchased cottage was quite isolated. A deliberate choice.
Sylvie suddenly laughed. “I don’t mean like, neighbors neighbors.”
