“That’s all right.” Grabbing the handle, I bumped my suitcase up the stairs and followed him down the second-floor hallway.
“I’m Henry Jones.” He pushed open the last door on the corridor with his hip and set my bags inside. “I stay down the hall.”
“I’m Shea Anderson.” Anderson, not O’Connor, I reminded myself. “I’m Chief Bishop’s niece.”
“Yeah, we all heard you were coming. I’m real sorry about your mom and dad. I think you’ll like it here. You’ve got the nicest room in the place. Key is on the bed. Just give me a holler if you need anything.”
I set my big bag down. “Thank you.”
He brushed past me, and I watched him slide inside his own room three doors down. Shutting the door behind me, I sized up the place. It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it was going to be. It was actually quite cozy and comforting in a way.
It was really two rooms. As you walked in, there was a bed, all made up with an old-fashioned comforter and ruffled pillows. Next to that was a nightstand with a pretty white-and-pink lamp on it. A small archway led to a sitting room of sorts with a bay window that overlooked the police station across the street. An old armchair faced an even older TV. The rooms smelled like the lavender sachets my grandmother used to put in all her drawers. Thankfully, I had my own bathroom. Henry was nice, but I didn’t want to share a shower with him.
I checked out the bathroom and then went back to the bedroom to unpack. I started to put my shirts in the antique dresser across from the bed. Its mirror was oval shaped, and I could still smell the glass cleaner.
“Honey? Are you hungry? I’ve made some sandwiches.” Mrs. Parker was in the doorway, smiling like some painting of a country aunt come to life.
“I guess I am. It was a long ride.”
I threw my last shirt in the drawer, closed it, and followed her back downstairs to the kitchen. I sat down with her at the huge white table, big enough to serve breakfast to all her guests, complete with a blue vase in the center filled with perfect pink carnations. She had it all set up with sandwiches, pastries, and a big glass pitcher filled with milk. In my entire life I’d never poured myself milk from a pitcher. It always came from white plastic jugs.
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to mother you, but we do have rules around here, and I might as well get this out of the way now. They apply to you and to everyone else that stays here, too. And I also don’t want you to think I’m babysitting for your uncle. Even though you’re only a freshman in college, you’re eighteen and an adult, so I’ll treat you like one.”
“I appreciate that, Mrs. Parker. Believe me, I won’t be any trouble.”
“Good,” she said, and tucked a piece of white hair that had come loose from the bun on top of her head behind her ear. “Now, about those rules. Here they are: No loud music, ever. There are too many people who live here to be blasting music all around. No pets, unless you want to keep a goldfish; that would be all right. Henry has two named Romeo and Juliet. No parties at all. And the last one …” She paused for a second, trying to figure out how to put it to me. “While I know how things have changed with young people these days, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you not to bring home any overnight male visitors. It just wouldn’t be appropriate, you being in my care in your uncle’s stead. He trusts me to look after you. I hope you’d be above that sort of thing anyway. You seem like such a nice girl.”
I had to suppress a laugh at how serious this woman was trying to be. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Parker. I just want to finish out this semester of college. I’m already looking at schools upstate for next year. I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
Theresa Parker sighed, poured a glass of milk, and said with a smile, “That’s exactly when you find one.”
There was a knock on the back door just then, and a strawberry-blonde woman stuck her head in. “Is your new guest here yet?”
“Sarah Rose, come in. She’s right here,” Mrs. Parker told her. She came inside with a little girl, about seven, who had the same red hair as her mother. The color I had tried to achieve for two years with my hairdresser and could never quite get. A natural golden red that practically sparkled.
“I’m Sarah Rose Gifford. I live two doors down.” She put her hand out to me, and I shook it.
“Shea Anderson. Nice to meet you. And what’s your name?” I asked the little girl, bending down so we were nose to nose. She hid behind her mom, who herself was not all that big. Sarah Rose was barely five feet tall, and I doubt she even broke a hundred pounds.
Sarah Rose’s delicate red hair was cut in a cute bob that matched her daughter’s. “This is my baby girl.” Sarah gently pushed her forward toward me.
She twisted the end of her little denim dress and said, “My name is Emily Rose.”
“But we just call her Emily,” Sarah Rose corrected. “Too many Roses in our family. What happens when you get too many roses?”
“Thorns,” Emily replied in a whisper, and I laughed.
“Emily is a pretty name,” I told her. She went back to trying to hide behind her mom.
“We stopped by to give you your pan back and to say hello. Jake said to say thank you, he loved the pie.”
Mrs. Parker took the pan from her and put it down on the kitchen counter. “It was nothing; I love to bake. Once Mr. Parker passed away, I didn’t have much reason to, until I started taking in boarders.”
“You keep cooking like that, and I’ll be your next boarder.” Sarah Rose smiled. “We’re just stopping in. I wish we could stay longer and chat, but I have to go pick up the baby and make Jake’s dinner. It was nice to meet you.”
“Nice meeting you too, and you, Emily,” I said, waving to her.
Sarah Rose smiled and ducked out the back door. Emily waved to us and followed her. Mrs. Parker picked up the pie plate and put it into the cupboard. “Sarah Rose is a lovely girl.”
I took a sip of my milk, and noted a touch of tightness in her throat when she said it. “Is something wrong?”
“You never really know what goes on between two people.” Mrs. Parker wiped her hands on her skirt. “I had hoped for better for her.” She left it at that, and I didn’t pry. I went upstairs to get my things organized. I liked Mrs. Parker. I was a little more optimistic about my role in Kelly’s Falls. I told myself to think of it as a working vacation. I’d been hoping that the girls would suddenly return and I could go home after a couple of days.
Somehow, though, I knew it wasn’t going to be quite that easy for me.
Sunday, March 19th
I didn’t get to meet my new Uncle Roy until the next morning around breakfast time. I spent the night getting settled in and making some notes before going to bed. At eight o’clock that morning, I got a knock on the door. It was him, Kelly’s Falls’ trusted chief of police. “Shea? I’m Roy Bishop,” he said quietly. “May I come in?”
I stepped aside. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He had a baseball hat clenched in his hands as he stepped through my doorway. Younger than I expected, he had the typical brown-and-tan police uniform on, complete with a shiny black Glock on his hip and handcuffs. I had found out the night before that besides being the youngest police chief at thirty-eight, he was also the town’s most eligible bachelor. I had to admit, he was a very good-looking man, in a cowboy sort of way, with perfectly combed light-brown hair and startlingly blue eyes. He was on the short side, for my taste, but had an athletic build, like he worked out every day. I could see his easy smile and polite ways making him the talk of the town’s women’s league. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to come over last night, but I was busy working.”