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The sound of the shower stopped abruptly. Lily walked back to the bunks, grabbed the first book she found on the small nightstand, then tossed it onto her bed without looking at it. She folded her jeans and placed them on her still-packed suitcase with a sigh, clicking on the small paper lamp on the chest of drawers on the way up to her bunk. The weirdness of fleeing LA with no plan and ending up in a tiny cabin in McCall with someone she’d randomly kissed was beginning to swirl around her like she was watching a movie of someone else’s life in fast-forward. She felt slightly dizzy as she climbed the ladder to the top bunk, thankful the door to the bathroom was still shut so she at least didn’t have to talk about it.
Lily felt her bones slowly unfold onto the bed as she lay back and stared at the gabled plank ceiling, too exhausted to read anything at all. The window beside her was open, and the muslin curtain stirred, brushing her cheek as the breeze came in off the lake. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of silver birch bark, cooling and shifting in the night air.
She was sinking into velvet layers of sleep by the time she realized the book she’d tossed on the bed was jutting into her back, so she reached for it as she climbed under the warmth of the duvet, turning it over in her hand in the amber lamplight.
Embers Into Fire by Lily Larimar.
Chapter Five
Mary slipped a pan of warm brownies under the counter in the drugstore, then plucked a cup off the mug tree in the window and poured a steaming cup of coffee from the pot next to the cash register. She’d owned the drugstore in McCall for over thirty years, and there had only been a handful of days that she’d missed Days of Our Lives. She had a routine. She locked up the shop every day at 2:00 p.m., opened the cabinet that hid her television, and switched on her soaps. Over the years, the snacks had gotten a bit more indulgent, but other than that, the routine was the same, and that was the way she liked it.
Mary had just switched on her show and was headed toward the front of the store with her keys when a slight, tomboyish girl slipped through the door. She walked with her head down and navigated quickly toward the back of the store. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her threadbare hoodie, and the muted footfalls of her black Converse were the only sound in the shop.
Mary watched her for a moment before locking the front d
oor and taking a seat behind the counter. She sighed as she dumped sugar in her coffee and waited for the little delinquent to get the hell out. If she didn’t hurry, she’d miss the recap from yesterday’s episode, not that she hadn’t already watched it. The girl reappeared after about a minute, eyes still on the floor, and lingered for a second by the Snickers bars before she headed to the door, pulling on it several times without success.
She finally turned to Mary only when it was clear there was no other option. “Um…the door is locked.”
Mary poured hazelnut creamer into her coffee and stirred, tasting it twice before adding more. The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes darting around for another exit. Any other exit.
“You have to let me out.”
“I think you’ll find, young lady,” Mary blew on the surface of her coffee and sat back on her stool, “That I don’t have to do shit.”
The girl hesitated as she laced her fingers behind her head, looking as if she might cry.
“But you might get farther with that door if you pull whatever you just shoved in your grubby little pocket and set it here on the counter.”
The girl’s head dropped, and Mary half heard her mutter a curse word before she shuffled back to the counter. She looked up for only a second before her gaze turned longingly to the carefree tourists passing the shop windows, and the thought crossed Mary’s mind that she just might make a run for it and try to body slam the glass.
She knew most of the teenage troublemakers in town and watched each one like a hawk when they ambled through the door in loud groups after school. They lingered around the candy, pocketing what they could get away with, but word had gotten around, and they’d developed a healthy respect for Mary over the years. Probably had something to do with the paintball rifle she kept behind the counter.
This girl didn’t have that kind of swagger, though, or whatever the kids called it these days. She’d come in like she was on a mission and had pocketed something before Mary had even made it back behind the counter, which was a bold move, considering she was the only one in the shop.
“So let’s have it.” Mary took a sip of coffee and glanced longingly at the pan of cooling brownies under the counter. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. I’ve got my stories to watch.”
The girl looked up from under her hood and stepped back a couple of steps. “I can’t, I…”
“You’re going to want to reconsider.” Mary sat back on her stool, coffee in hand. “What exactly do you think your options are here?”
She glanced again at the door, then pulled a small blue box out of her hoodie pocket and placed it carefully on the counter. “I’m sorry. I guess I just needed them.”
Mary looked at the small box for a few seconds before she came back around the counter. The girl flinched as she stepped out of the way, then watched as Mary grabbed a handful of Snickers bars and dropped them into a small paper sack along with the box of tampons. She handed the bag to the girl and reclaimed her stool.
“I can’t take this,” the girl said, her voice soft. She looked steadily into the sack for a long few seconds, which Mary knew right away was an obvious attempt to hide the tears in her eyes. “I don’t have any money.”
Mary glanced up at the clock and pulled the tray of brownies out from under the counter, still warm and gooey, with a thick caramel swirl on the top. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll call it even if you help me eat these brownies while I watch my show. God help me if I’m left alone with that pan.” Mary hit the button on the remote, and the theme song to Days of Our Lives played in the background. She put two brownies on a napkin and pushed them over the counter. “What’s your name? And you can’t be from around here. I know a Southern accent when I hear one.”
“It’s Moxie, and I grew up in Arkansas. My mom dragged me to Boise because she followed some guy out here a few years ago.” Moxie finished half a brownie in one bite and swallowed hard, meeting Mary’s eyes for the first time. “Why are you being so nice to me? I just tried to steal from you.”
“I’m Mary, by the way. And, honey,” Mary said, pushing up her sleeves as she cut an oversized hunk of brownie and plunked it down on a napkin for herself. “I raised four daughters. I know you wouldn’t have taken those if you had any other choice.” She paused. “And that’s just different.”
An hour later, the pan of brownies was almost empty, and Mary had even seen Moxie smile once or twice. She was too thin, and the freckles across her nose made her look like she was barely in her early teens. Moxie had a sadness about her that reminded Mary of Sam Draper as a child, although that had worn off a few years after Gus, the police chief, had officially adopted her. The poor thing had been left at the county fair to fend for herself overnight, and when the authorities had finally caught up with the mother, she couldn’t sign away her rights to her daughter fast enough. Gus and Mary had been friends since high school, so she’d seen Sam grow up and loved her as fiercely as she loved her own daughters.
Moxie picked up her bag and reluctantly stood as the show ended and the credits rolled. “Um, Mary?” She looked up, the top of the bag crinkling in her hand. “Would it be okay if this just stayed between us? It’s a long story, but the last thing I need is to get in trouble right now.”
Mary smiled as she picked up the keys and came around the counter to unlock the door. “If you ask me, people talk too damn much anyway. This ain’t nobody’s business but ours, Moxie.”
