Lineage(55)

“Really? Well, if you need any help with anything as far as history goes, just let my husband know; he’s the local director of the historical society. He could tell you anything about the area, as well as Minnesota in general.” Josie leaned in closer as she lowered her voice. “Just be forewarned: once you get him talking, you can’t shut him up.”

Lance laughed and glanced around the edge of the store, trying to spot where the woman had gone, but saw no one else except a stock boy idly straightening jars of peanut butter. “Thanks very much, I might just take him up on that,” Lance said, moving toward the smell of roasted coffee beans. Josie smiled and waved as she went back to examining a tray of bananas.

He walked closer to the coffee aisle, all the while watching the rest of the store for movement. A small deli counter and eating area were tucked at the rear of the store, and when he spotted the dark-haired woman sitting alone at one of the booths, his stomach felt as if he had hit an air pocket while on a plane.

Mary read from a book and was spooning what looked like clam chowder out of a Styrofoam bowl. Her hair was again tucked behind her ear, and for some reason Lance marveled at how small and delicate she looked sitting there by herself. He began to walk toward her but paused, wondering if she was waiting for someone. He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger in the bookstore, but she might be a woman who didn’t wear one regularly. In his mind he could see her husband or boyfriend, a tall man in a woolen shirt—a logger or a fishing guide perhaps. He’d come strolling in any minute, sit down across from her, and reach out to hold her hand, just like he wanted to do right now.

Mary glanced up from her book and noticed him staring at her. He smiled and raised a hand in what seemed like the most pathetic wave ever. Her face remained blank for a moment, and Lance’s mind began to tell him to duck behind the nearby coffee grinder and then belly-crawl the rest of the way out of the store. Recognition finally bloomed in her eyes and she waved back, allowing his legs to free themselves from the flight signals his brain continued to send. He walked as casually as he could to her booth and stopped, looking down at her.

“Ah, the famous author,” she said, revealing very straight teeth within a teasing smile.

“Yeah, sorry to bother you. I just noticed you sitting here and thought I’d say hi since you’re pretty much the only person I know in town.”

Mary gestured at the opposite side of the booth. “Grab a coffee and sit down.”

“No, I don’t want to interrupt your lunch.”

“I’m just reading. It’s a great book, but sometimes it’s actually good to interact with another human being. I normally spend all my time with books anyway.”

Lance laughed, liking her smile more each time he saw it. “If you insist,” he said, sliding into the Formica seat across from her, mentally noting he was doing just what he had envisioned minutes before. He looked down at her left hand, which sat splayed on the table next to her soup. Her fingers were long and thin, and best of all, no ring adorned any of them.

“So, rumor has it that you’ve moved into the big place up north.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, just got unloaded yesterday. I forgot how much work moving is; probably wouldn’t have done it if I remembered.”

“Well, it’s good someone’s using the place. It’s too nice of a location to sit empty year round.”

Lance leaned forward. “Do you know anything about the place? Like how long it’s been there, or why it’s been empty for so long?”

Mary smiled as she sat back in her seat, her eyes looking off in thought. “Well, my dad and I moved here when I was seven, after my mom died. He was a department-store manager in St. Paul, but his true love was books. His lifelong dream was to open a bookstore in a small town, and I think when he lost my mom he decided he shouldn’t wait any longer.

“Your place was always a topic among the kids in town. Sometimes I would hear about groups of older kids going up there to poke around or break into the old place—I’m guessing just to scare themselves silly. You know how there’s always a place that everyone knows about, that’s dubbed the haunted house? Well, your place was it for this town. Not that anything ever really happened there; the kids who went there for thrills or to make out never disappeared, nothing that exciting. It was just the local spook house.” Mary shrugged and laughed, as though the memory perhaps hadn’t only involved other kids her age. Lance realized that she had given him a small window to look through into her life, and at the moment she was infinitely more interesting than his curiosity about the estate.