Chapter 3
Scarlet didn’t fly often and found herself staring out the window for most of the ride across the country. She’d had a transfer in Chicago that took her to Portland, Oregon, where she’d picked up a flight to the small town of Eugene.
The countryside was mountainous and packed with fir trees that reached far above the tallest power poles she’d ever seen. The valley was a quilt of agriculture and farming with grassy fields, pastures filled with wooly sheep, and vineyards that crawled over hillsides.
She drove her black rental sedan through the coastal mountains, admiring the twists and turns and the homes tucked in along the rural highway, sporting American flags. She had never seen so many tractors or horses in one place. But in her New York City apartment, the closest she had to what most people called outside were the three aloe plants on her balcony.
As the highway to the coast rose through the mountains and fell, the hills opened up to rivers and buildings on stilts. Seagulls became more common than pigeons. And mooring rope on short pier posts replaced white picket fences.
Florence was a busy little town with many businesses selling everything from colorful kites, antiques, and coffees to seafood and dune-riding equipment. As she turned north toward the cluster of buildings along the coastal highway, she spotted a coffee stand that made her break off course. It had been a long trip, and without something to keep her awake, she feared she might not make that last stretch before the Bed and Breakfast’s office closed for the night.
After ordering a double shot-in-the-dark, she paid and checked her phone for any messages from Thea or Ms. Wesley but had none.
The woman at the window leaned out and asked her what she was up to for the day.
“I’m sorry?” Scarlet asked.
“Whatcha up to today?” The woman wore sparkling cowboy-style jeans and a tie-dye t-shirt, a perplexing combination to Scarlet.
It was uncommon to have much idle conversation in the big city and caused Scarlet to stutter. “Headed to a town up the road called Bourbon Bay.”
“Oh, yeah. You’ll want to be careful heading north,” the woman said. “Rains caused another mudslide. They’ve cleared it mostly, but there might still be a few rocks on the road.”
The woman handed her the coffee. “Say, you’re not from around here, are you?”
“No. I’m from New York.”
“Ah, that explains the accent. It rains a lot, so I hope you brought a raincoat!”
“I did, thanks.” Scarlet set her coffee in her cup holder.
“Have a nice day!”
Scarlet glanced back at the little coffee stand as she got back on the road, wondering about the change in demeanor of the local residents. She wasn’t used to such friendly conversation. Most people in the city were simply too busy to bother with small talk.
Scarlet followed the road along the beach as the sun headed for the ocean to her left. The sand dunes seemed to glow against the glittering water. Traffic was lighter than on the East Coast but stayed consistent on the winding highway. She passed the muddy patch in the road and swerved around a few large rocks. Little creeks and waterfalls decorated the mountains to her right every half-mile or so.
As the road swerved around a stretch of rocky cliffs, she saw the sign for Bourbon Bay. The beach had to be far below the highway and not something set close to the town like she’d envisioned.
She turned onto Main Street and drove through the city center. It couldn’t have been more than thirty buildings with a hundred or so residences nestled into the nooks of the rising mountains.
Scarlet slowed as she approached the location of the bookshop. It sat alone on its own slice of property near the edge of town, with parking on three sides. An alley ran behind the business. She slowed and parked out front.
It was a quaint, old-fashioned red brick building with a red and white striped awning. On the corners sat two large ceramic pots filled with petunias and an array of other flowers Scarlet didn’t know the names of. But the purples, reds, and yellows gave the shop a pretty flair. Then it dawned on her.
Someone’s still watering them.
She stared at the signs hanging in the windows and thought of her aunt and the plans she’d had. An upcoming sale was dated for the prior week. The shop had been closed for three weeks.
The sight made her wonder what would happen to her things and her apartment .
Benjamin is the only person I have left, and he’s too busy to handle my stuff.
Sure, she had friends from work and a few she’d made in the city over the years, but they all had their own lives.
Scarlet rested back against the nose of her car and hugged herself against a cool breeze. She had to figure out how to sell the place in less than two weeks. That meant cleaning out, selling what was left, and getting it on the market before she headed home. It was a lot to do.
“Hi. Store’s closed.”
Scarlet swiveled on her car’s hood to address the man walking up to her. He was handsome, dark-haired, and dressed in a navy shirt and matching cargo pants. “I can see that.”
“New in town?” His smile was subtle, gentle—humble.
“What makes you say that?”
“No one wears a suit on the streets here. Jeans, boots, a raincoat, and warm clothes.” He paused. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
“Haven’t been here since I was very young.” Scarlet missed that summer she’d spent with her mother and aunt, playing in the sand, looking for shells and sand dollars, and flying a kite. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you.”
“That’s ok. I get that a lot.” He scuffed a boot in a thin patch of loose sand and shrugged. “And those who see me enough to know me wish they didn’t.”
She slid back. “Why?”
“I’m a paramedic. I’m a firefighter now, but I started in the medical field. I work at the station just at the other end of town. Name’s Everest Brooks.” He stuck out a hand.
She took his hand and shook it firmly. “Scarlet Brevon.”
His expression tightened. “Oh. I am so sorry for your loss, Scarlet.”
“Guess you knew my aunt.”
“Everyone did. It must be the family resemblance I was seeing. Ann was everyone’s friend. So you’ve come to run the bookstore?”
She inhaled deeply. “No. I am a textile designer back in NYC. I’m here to sift through everything and sell the place to someone who wants it.”
“Sell?” Everest’s brows pinched together. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Reading old books like these is an outdated form of entertainment. Everything is digital. I really don’t understand how this place survived for so long in this era.”
He looked away and covered his mouth.
“Something wrong?”
He nodded and continued on his way. “A lens has gone out in the lighthouse. The keeper is gone. Someone else has to show the lost souls the way. Think about that. Goodnight, Scarlet.”
“What is that, a riddle?” Scarlet called after him.
Everest waved but didn’t respond.