“Uh, it’s a nickname. My real name is Frances.”
She looked me up and down and then gave the biggest smile. “I love it. Suits you much better than Frances. Of course, my husband is actually James, but everyone calls him Jim. I think that nicknames often suit people more than their real names, don’t you?”
“I suppose. I haven’t really thought about it,” I replied rather flatly, feeling confused by this sudden, unprompted conversation.
“So where are you from?” she asked, not even bothering to ring up my sieve and snacks. In fact, she’d put her elbows on the counter and was resting her chin on her hands as if she had all the time in the world to talk to me. “What brings you to our special little town?”
I shrugged. Because right now, I didn’t fucking know why I was here.
She smiled and nodded at me. “Looking to get away from the rat race, from all the chaos and noise?” she asked, not letting it go. Why was she so determined to have a conversation with me? Under normal circumstances I might have picked my phone up and looked at the screen, to give her the impression I was far too busy for this conversation. If she wanted to talk to me, DM me, for heaven’s sake! But I didn’t have a phone to hide behind and that left me feeling very exposed. I had never been comfortable with social interactions. Being an overweight teen will do that to you. Each social interaction becomes an opportunity for bullying, so you just land up avoiding everyone altogether. I had found that hiding behind my phone had been a great way of avoiding things, only now I didn’t have it.
“How long do you think you’ll be staying with us?” she continued in a merry, chirpy voice.
“I don’t know yet.” I looked down at Satan’s backside. “That depends on a few factors,” I said rather pointedly to the dog, and he looked up at me as if he understood.
“Well, welcome to Springdorp. We love having visitors here with us. Have you been given the town social schedule yet?”
I shook my head.
She turned and reached behind the counter, pulling out a handwritten piece of paper that looked like it had been copied. “Here.” She passed it to me.
I scanned the words on it.Games Night. Quiz Night. Movie Night. Murder Mystery Night.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Our social activities.”
“Wait, you all get together and do things?” I asked. “The whole town?”
She nodded. “Sure. Not all of us all the time, but most of us.”
Murder Mystery Night. A chill ran up my spine. Where was I? Please tell me I hadn’t wandered into one of these spooky, serial-killer towns full of axe-wielding people that did that thing where they welcomed in strangers with big open arms, only to slice their arms off days later? In fact, now that I thought about it, everyone in this town did seem rather friendly.Toofriendly. The man willing to cook me a custom-made breakfast, who comforted me when I’d cried. The vet with her big smiles, and now this lady. Alarm bells went off in the back of my mind. People werenotthis friendly. People did not smile so much and want to know so many things about you—not IRL anyway. I took a step back from the counter and then pulled my wallet out. It was thick with cash as I’d drawn as much money as possible before coming here, after reading the warning about there being no ATMs in town.
She looked down at my wallet and smiled again. “Came prepared,” she said.
I pulled out some notes and put them on the table.
“Most people who come here don’t know that we don’t have any ATMs. If you’re prepared, are you planning on staying a while?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Do you like books?” she asked suddenly.
I looked up at her suspiciously. “I guess. Maybe.”
“Some of us ladies have a book club on a Thursday evening. We don’t put it on the calendar because then everyone will come, and we like our little group. But if you’d like to come?” she asked me.
Why was she asking me? She didn’t even know me. “I haven’t read a book in ages,” I said. “Well, not one with pages anyway.”
She gave me a curious, confused look. “What kind of book doesn’t have pages?” she asked.
“An eBook,” I stated.
She cocked her head to the side. “What’s that?”
“Um . . . you buy them on Amazon.”
“The Amazon?” she said, sounded utterly intrigued.
