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“Summer’s starting to heat up,” a woman said, as she maneuvered past us with a hand cart full of cleaning products.
“It’s only beginning. Wait until August,” Clark said. “I keep an extra roll of deodorant right here in the store.” He chuckled. “That’s probably TMI, right? My daughter says that means Too Much Information. For the longest time I thought it meant Tell Me Information. I’m sure you can see the problem there.”
“You’re rambling again, Clark,” the woman called over her shoulder.
Clark cringed. “Thank you, Marcie. I’m sure Chuck didn’t ramble,” he said to me.
“He was very quiet,” I agreed. In fact, there’d been no exchange of pleasantries at all, which had suited me fine. I preferred minimal interaction. There was something about Clark that reminded me of Pops, though, and it had been a long time since I’d encountered such a friendly older man.
“Chuck was too quiet. I had to fire him. I hated to do it, on account of I like his parents very much, but poor Chuck didn’t inherit their level of competence. He seemed more interested in playing games on his phone than assisting customers.” He splayed his hands. “Anyways, that’s enough of my tale of woe. What are you looking for?”
“A washer for a leaky toilet.”
He sucked in a breath. “Can’t say I’m surprised. If you need a plumber, we’ve got a few good ones in town I can recommend.”
“I should be able to manage.” Under Ray’s watchful eye.
“Aisle 4 is where we keep plumbing supplies. Let me know if you need any help. I’m here to serve.”
“Thanks, I will.”
“I heard the Castle is haunted,” another woman said. She had a toddler by the hand and a baby on her hip. “I was shocked when I found out somebody bought it.”
“I live alone,” I said simply.
I continued to aisle 4, conscious of the other customers now watching me. The friendly chatter had all but ceased; everybody seemed intent on what the newcomer was doing. I couldn’t imagine anything less fascinating than browsing the plumbing aisle.
“Maybe you can all come to my house next and watch the paint dry,” I murmured under my breath.
As I studied the options on the shelf, a large man rumbled down the aisle toward me. As he reached into his pocket, my body tensed and tension coiled in my stomach, ready to spring.
“You’re the lady who bought the Castle, right?” He didn’t wait for a response before thrusting a folded piece of paper at me. “My name’s Jerry. I’m with the fire department. We host a fundraiser every year at the VFW, the evening of Fourth of July. There’s a nice spread and live music. It’d be a great way to meet people.”
I unfolded the paper and realized it was a flyer advertising the event. “Thanks, Jerry. I’ll keep it in mind.” I refolded the paper and tucked it into my purse.
“If you like brisket, you’ll be in heaven,” he added. “It’s cooked lower and slower than any you’ve ever tasted.”
“Sounds amazing.” I turned back to the shelf and hoped that was the end of the conversation. This would be one of the differences between London and Fairhaven. In a large city, I could go all day without speaking to another living person. Unfortunately, it was the dead I couldn’t avoid, and London had more than its share of lost souls. Here there were fewer dearly departed, but many more living and breathing chatterboxes who seemed to think ownership of a face was an invitation to converse.
Jerry seemed to take the hint because he exited the aisle, and I heard him say goodbye to Clark. I chose the necessary supplies and then ducked into the paint aisle for extra cans of eggshell and one additional color. I set the cans on the counter to be mixed.
Clark shot a quizzical look at the smaller can. “Red? Well, I guess the walls in your place are pretty large. You can probably get away with a color like this.”
“It can work as an accent color. Do you sell hoses?”
“In the outdoor section.” He nodded toward the open doorway at the back of the store. “You’ve got time to take a look while I mix the paint.”
“Great. I’ll be back.” I’d been putting off the yard and the moat because the interior needed so much attention, but I’d need to get around to them sooner or later. A hose would be a good start.
In the outdoor area, an old woman leaned on a cane in front of a row of large pots. Her stark white hair was tucked haphazardly under a sunhat. She would’ve been my height, except for the slight hunch in her back as she leaned on her cane. When she looked at me, I saw that her eyes were a dark, luminescent blue.
“You’re the lady who bought the Castle,” she said.
“Lorelei Clay.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Miss Clay. I’m Jessie Talbot. I’ve seen you in here before, but only from a distance.”
“I’m looking for a hose,” I told her, like she cared.
