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1
GABRIELLA
The sun is already threatening the mid-morning clouds with its crisp glare, throwing my new surroundings into stark contrast. As I drive through into the main square, I take in all the neo-classical and federal inspired architecture; complete with iron wrought fixtures and lampposts that dot disheveled sidewalks.
‘Here lies Curiosity,’ is what the welcome sign reads at the edge of the town’s limits.
“Well Gabriella, you are not in Kansas anymore,” I murmur to myself, looking out through the moving truck window. “Even if it kind of looks like it.”
Curiosity seems like a quiet, unassuming kind of place, where all the neighbors know each other, and everyone gets involved. The research I turned up between packing boxes showed as much, complete with a few shots from Google Earth, with a brief history and population stats. It was the kind of slower-paced change I was looking for, away from the bustling metropolis.
But there is something in the air here, something that I’ve felt since I entered the townscape. An aura of mystique accompanies the village, like the clouds that rolled in as soon as I entered the area. There are a few citizens I pass driving through the main street, and some of them look positively ghoulish.
“Uh, strange place,” I absently note, as I take in a couple who look positively ashen; one dressed in a long trench coat, and the other covered in bandages. Another mottled woman in joggers is chaining up an absolutely feral pack of dogs, and feeding them what looks like rotten cake pops from the bakery she just stepped out of.
Suddenly, there is a briskness in the wind that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand like a cold shiver. Not in a fearful way though, more like the thrill of anticipation. Curiosity appears to be a quaint little hamlet, as if the air almost sings of adventure.
Then again, this is a whole new adventure for me. Great-aunt Maria’s reading was only a few weeks ago, and now my entire world consists of two things: all the belongings in the back of my rented moving van and the destination in front of me. The gray structure, marked by the stark ‘Closed’ sign, is like the rest of Main Street, part of the original architecture, and it shows.
This dilapidated structure is my newest adventure. “Alright,” my absent muttering continues. “Let’s see what you’ve got in store for me, Auntie M.”
Fumbling through my sequined travel tote unearths the master key to the building, as well as a copy of the deed she bequeathed me. Great-Aunt Maria hardly believed in locks, much less alarms, so it’s only the creak of floorboards, and a swirl of dust to greet me as I step over the threshold of the desolate cafe. My new property. I move throughout, taking in the darkened and derelict space.
“Oh Auntie M, what kind of mess have you left me with?” I ask into the firmament.
It’s only been a short time since Aunt Maria’s passing, but the cobwebs look as if they took root years ago, along with several other natural elements. Dirt and moss are caked along the corners and cracks of walls and tables, the rugs and chair cushions look as if they were donated with the inception of the town, and the curtains are as blackened and stained as the counters.
I step through the place carefully, as if it were a condemned museum and not a small business my great-aunt ran daily, for over forty years.How?I wonder, as my shoes crunch on something that sounds like broken glass.Please let that be all it is, I silently pray as I spot something that looks suspiciously like bones.
The power is off, so the only light is coming out in shattered, colored fragments from a set of stained glass paneling above the door. It depicts a strange scene of animals gathering under a framed moon that clashes with the sun’s rays.
“Ugh, how could anyone stand to eat in such a rank place?” I wonder aloud.
“I dunno, it has a kind of earthy charm, if you ask me,” a strong voice answers from behind.
Heart leaping into my throat, I spin around quickly to confront whatever apparition has decided to confront me. My movements are too quick and uncoordinated, but even as I stumble, the stranger with the deep voice propels forward to my aide.
“Whoa, sorry about that,” he offers, reaching out to me to steady me as I lose balance. I blink, momentarily surprised by how quickly he was able to move across the room. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, it’s okay,” I reply, slightly breathless from being startled. It has nothing to do with the crystal blue of this stranger’s eyes, or the sharp cut of his jawline. I feel a fissure of energy lance through my body at his gentle touch before he steps back, and I take in the handsome stranger who just walked into my life.
Growing up in the city, I’ve always been wary of strange men, but this man’s woodsy scent and deep voice settle over me like a warm blanket. “Uh, can I ask who you are though?”
“Ah, I was actually going to ask you the same thing?” He words it like a question, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck, a gesture that draws my attention to the powerful flex of his forearms. “We don’t exactly get many new faces here in Curiosity, and the bank asked me to look after Ms. Maria’s place, until her affairs were put in order.”
“Oh! Sorry, I was able to get packed up faster than I originally anticipated. I’m Gabriella Perez, Maria’s niece, well great-niece, actually,” I explain by way of introduction. I offer out a hand, and he shakes it, and the strength and warmth of his grip match his smile.
“We’ll be neighbors then,” he returns, in an easy-going manner. “I’m Chet Wilson. I run the local general store, just over in the next building.” For reference, he points to a window adjacent to the opposite wall.
“Aunt Maria never had any children of her own, and although we lived in different cities, she always treated me like a daughter. When she passed, she named me the inheritor of her estate, so now here I am,” I finish, with a simple shrug.
The stranger seems to shift even closer to me, thinning the space between us. “My condolences on your loss. Everyone in town loved Ms. Maria.” His bright aqua eyes pierce right through me, and I feel a sliver of expectancy climb up my spine.
Moving over to the window, I push aside the curtain. Glancing out, my gaze falls on a brick extension that wraps around the block corner. A matching window reflects a glimpse of the interior. Shelves of assortments and pallets are revealed through the glare, and from what I can tell, it is a homey, organized space.
“You see?” His voice is soft and penetrating, almost right beside my ear. He’s closed the gap between us again, only this time he is just pressed beside me. “As your neighbor, I’d be happy to help you get settled in.”
I sense heat and densely packed muscle at my shoulder, and the feeling is delightfully distracting. In jeans and a rolled-up flannel, this healthy, chiseled specimen is a far cry from the shallow tech-bros I was used to seeing on the train back in the city. I find myself swallowing down my body’s reaction to the unfiltered presence of such raw masculinity.
