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“It might be silly, but neither should be reaching across the fence. That is stealing,” one woman earnestly says.
“I suppose you’re right.” What in the heck am I listening to? Are they honestly this interested in stolen blackberries? The things grow everywhere and they’re impossible to kill.
“They used to be such great friends too. It’s such a shame blackberries have torn them apart.”
“They’ve always argued. It’s part of their friendship. They’ll get over this and move on to the next thing. They give old ladies a bad name. People think we all argue and are up to no good.”
I want to point out that old women are known for gossiping too, but somehow I don’t think they’d appreciate my input. The waitress drops off my food and it looks and smells delicious. I take my first bite and my mouth waters, it’s so good. She might be right about it being the best.
I have breakfast and a show as I continue listening to the old ladies gossiping, each tale painting a pretty good picture of this town and the residents living here, where even the smallest drama seems like a very big deal. Maybe that’s what it’s like in small-town life. In large cities we rarely know what’s happening with our neighbors, let alone care who’s arguing with who. Then again, if crime is so low, neighbors arguing over blackberry bushes is excitement, this is a good thing. I’d rather hear about arguments in town than robberies or shootings.
The conversation takes another turn. I don’t think these women are even close to finished with their conversation. It’s amazing they can talk about so many people. Do they do this daily? Now it seems they’re talking about the mayor’s wife and her frequent visits to the new dentist’s office in town.
“Have you noticed that Mrs. Hadworth has been going to the dentist quite often?”
“Oh yes, much more often than routine cleaning,” one woman says.
“My guess is that it has something to do with that new silver-haired fox who’s come to town. She’s become quite the regular. I guess she’s taking her duties as the mayor’s wife very seriously,” another says. They all giggle again. I almost let out a choked laugh, but suppress it just in time. I’m not sure I want to run into any of these people after hearing this conversation. I’m sure my face will show something. I’ve learned far more than I want about members of this town in my short visit to this café.
“I wonder what kind of treatment she’s getting on the dentist chair,” one of the women says. I glance up and see her eyes positively twinkling with mischief.
If I want to get any information on this town, it seems these are the ladies to talk to. I’ve been sent to a town full of secrets, and I guess nothing is private. I’d bet these same people the ladies are gossiping about, are doing their own gossiping. Maybe they’re having a group meeting of their own to gossip about these ladies!
I look over at them again when all goes silent and see three sets of eyes staring me down. I shift uncomfortably in my seat because I suspect these women can see straight into my soul. There’s not much left on my plate, but I lose my appetite and push it away as the waitress comes over and tops off my coffee. I gratefully hold the cup in my hand to have something to do.
“Welcome to Seaville, dear,” one of the old women says with a big smile. “What brings you to our quaint community?”
I almost feel as if I know these women after eavesdropping on them for so long. I can’t share too much, because it won’t take long for it to get all over the town. I give them my most disarming smile. I’ve been told it’s earned me more than one deal. It’s a look I’ve perfected to let people know they can trust me.
“I’m Callan. I’ve been told this is the place to be. I’ve heard wonderful things about Seaville and had to come and check it out for myself.”
The three women look at me with a bit of suspicion, but a lot of curiosity. “I’m Eileen, and this is Vivian and Martha. Who told you about us?”
“I was actually here as a child with my gramps,” I say on impulse. If I’m less of a stranger, they might trust me more.
This seems to do the trick. Eileen smiles brightly. “Oh, who’s your gramps?”
I feel the familiar ache of my loss at these words. “Daniel Brannigan.”
Eileen’s eyes light up. “Oh, how is Daniel? It’s been too long since I’ve seen him.”
My throat closes for just a moment. “He passed away last year,” I tell them. The genuine sadness in the woman’s eyes is comforting. I wonder how well Gramps knew this woman. My grandmother was gone for many years before Gramps died. I’m sure he did some dating, not that he told any of us about it. That’s slightly horrifying even if I don’t like the thought of Gramps being alone.
“That’s tragic, young man. I’m glad you came to pay us a visit. Seaville has a way of capturing the heart and soul of a person. It’s a good place to heal,” Eileen says. Then her eyes light up. “Little Callan. I remember you visiting.”
I’m shocked and a bit touched at this. I nod as I clear my throat. What in the hell is wrong with me? I don’t know this woman, and Gramps has been gone for a year. I shouldn’t be this upset. What is it about this place? A big part of me wants to run. I never flee though, and I refuse to cave to silly emotions.
“From what little I’ve seen, I can tell this place is special,” I finally say. I look out the window and give myself a moment before jumping back into the conversation. I’m here for a reason and I need to focus.
“I was here when I was younger, but I want to know where to go and what to see. I’m thinking of building a resort here. Do you know someone who can show me around, show me the things tourists don’t normally get to see. It will be a week-long job and I pay very well,” I say, once again flashing my most trusting smile.
The three women look at each other for a moment. I’m not sure what secret language they share, but I see a mysterious twinkle in their eyes before Eileen turns back to me. “Well, since you’re Daniel’s grandson, I’m going to trust you. I know just the person to show you around. She can use the job too. She’s always a bit short on cash. It’s that hippie lifestyle she chooses to live.”
I don’t trust the twinkle in her eyes at all, but I do need a guide. The letter in my box told me to come to this café for help. If I’m this distrustful at my first stop this will wind up being a very long week.
“Who do you have in mind?”
The women again share a look only the three of them can read. The need to run away again fills me, but I remind myself I’m not afraid of anything. If I were to fear any situation though, it would be this one. These women might look like sweet little old ladies, but I have a feeling they get up to a heck of a lot of no good.
