by Pam Stucky
“How did Romy find her, do you know?” Megan asked.
“Ad in the paper?” Edison said. “Honestly, I have no idea. I don’t know much about her. She just did her thing pretty quietly.”
“Hmmm,” said Megan.
“Hmmm?” said Edison.
“Just wondering about her. She had close access to Romy. But she didn’t live at the house, right?” Megan asked. “Was she still at the party when you left?”
“I think so,” Edison said. “I was one of the last ones out the door. She was still there cleaning up.”
“Hmmm,” said Megan.
“Hmmm,” said Edison. “Hmmm indeed.”
TWELVE
The library was buzzing more than usual for a Friday afternoon, and Megan kept busy in the roles of both reference librarian and Library Director. She didn’t mind. Answering questions and handling the drudgery of paperwork gave her something to keep her mind off of Romy.
Besides which, Megan loved being in the library and, more specifically, at her desk. She’d been involved in selecting the furniture for the new library, and she loved this desk—the one indulgence she’d requested. It was made of cedar, delighting the eye with its light and dark variations, and it surrounded her in a large, cozy circle. It felt like her own private cave, or like living inside a giant hollow tree trunk. With the exception of a few cutouts where people could approach and ask questions, the curved sides were high. Even though she was somewhat at the center of the library, she still felt protected and safe.
And the rest of the main library space was cozy, as well. Commercial-grade outdoor string lights had been hung throughout the public area, giving the room a warm, welcoming glow that added to the relaxed, intimate feel. When people first saw the space, they often commented that they might never want to leave. Being at her desk always made Megan feel peaceful and at home, like she was somehow ensconced within a forest glen of books. It was her own personal paradise.
At some point in the early afternoon, while she was researching a question about the migration patterns of raccoons, Megan saw Wade come down the grand staircase. He headed into the staff kitchen carrying several dirty mugs, and returned a few minutes later with the handles of six clean mugs looped through his fingers. He nodded quietly at Megan as he passed, and she felt herself blush. Should she have taken care of their dishes, too? She sighed and decided she’d worry about it later. Another thing to bring up with Edison.
She was relieved to believe Edison hadn’t been involved with Romy’s death. Megan liked Edison. She didn’t want to think she’d been wrong about him all along. He was nice. He was maybe more than nice.
As she was sorting through employees’ time sheets for the month, Owen, who ran the conference services downstairs, came up to her desk. He was tall and lanky, and undoubtedly must have been gangly as a teen, a decade or so ago. His light brown hair was almost unmanageably thick, and normally he kept it cut short. Today, though, he was long overdue for a haircut, and Megan’s first thought was that he could be a younger brother to the Heat Miser from that Christmas special whose name she could never remember. The Heat Miser was short and squat, she thought, but the other one, the Snow Miser, his hair wasn’t right. The height of the Snow Miser, but the hair of the Heat Miser. Maybe Owen could be just a … Luke Warm Miser. Something in between.
“Hey,” Owen said, leaning over the desk to see what Megan was working on. “I got mine in, right?” He saw Megan contemplating his hair and self-consciously reached to pat it down.
Megan suppressed a laugh. Owen would not want a nickname of Luke Warm Miser. “Yours is in. Thank you. Everything good downstairs? People starting to make reservations?” she asked.
“Yeah, Betty and Carol Louis-Lewis want to reserve the space for a party for their grandson. They were asking about using the yard, too. The grandson has a summer birthday and they thought it would be nice to have the party both inside and outside,” he said.
“Hmmm,” said Megan. “I don’t know why not, but I suppose I’ll have to run that one by the board.” She made a note on a pad of paper. “I’ll let you know. Any others?”
“Helen and Dave Hofstetter, also wondering about outside space. Their twenty-fifth anniversary is coming up. Dave was going to try to surprise Helen with a party but he needed her help to plan it,” he laughed. “So it’s not a surprise anymore. Anyway, they wondered if they could bring tables to set up outside. This is for August.”
Megan made another note. “Okay, I’ll email the board and let them know we want to talk about that. I have a few other things I need to bring up anyway.”
Another movement down the grand staircase caught Megan's eye, and she turned to see if Wade was coming back again. Much to her surprise, though, she saw Courtney walking down the steps, gliding along quietly but purposely. She moved quickly down the dozens of stairs, then made a beeline for the front door, and left.
Owen had noticed Megan's attention shift. “Courtney?” he said. “What was she doing upstairs?”
Megan returned her attention to the lean man. “Good question. You live in Rockport, don’t you? Isn’t that where she’s living now?” All her focus on paperwork and time sheets was forgotten and her mind was tumbling with questions again.
“Yeah,” said Owen. “A couple of blocks from me.”
“Isn’t everything in Rockport a couple of blocks from everything else in Rockport?” Megan said. Rockport was even smaller than Emerson Falls, with fewer than a dozen streets—and that’s only if one was generous about what counted as a street. “What do you know about her?”
He shrugged. “Not a lot. She doesn’t rub shoulders with locals much. People think she’s very east coast.”
Megan knew that “very east coast” was not necessarily a compliment around these parts. “Too good for her britches?” she said.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Owen said. “Too good for us, anyway.”
“Do you know where on the east coast she’s from?” Megan asked. She remembered the conversation she’d had with Kevin. Had he mentioned a state, or just east coast? She couldn’t recall.
Owen shrugged again. “East coast is east coast,” he said. “It’s that attitude. ‘Where I came from is so much better than here, but never mind why I left.’” He clearly was not a fan. Megan wondered if maybe he’d suffered a rejection by an east coast love. Then she realized she had no idea about Owen’s love life, or his life in general. Edison had been right about this building. With Owen downstairs and herself on the main floor, she hardly saw the man. That wasn’t the kind of work environment she wanted to cultivate at all. As comfortable as she was, hiding away in her giant tree trunk, she knew she’d need to make an effort to reach out to all the staff and make them feel they were a part of everything. Megan wanted her staff to like working there.
“There’s just something about her…” Megan said, returning her thoughts to Courtney. Then, she felt uncomfortable. Was she, too, judging someone simply for being from the east coast? Certainly she wasn’t that petty. Was she?
“Well, no love lost here,” said Owen, who clearly was not as interested in Courtney’s presence. “Hey, I meant to ask, do you know who left the back door open downstairs? It was unlocked when I came in.”
A shudder of unease whisked through Megan. She was sure she’d locked the door. Hadn’t she? Reaching back in her mind, she tried to visualize her actions earlier that morning. When she’d let Edison in, she’d opened the door without unlocking it first. It had already been unlocked. Hadn’t it? Had Edison somehow slipped the lock when she wasn’t looking? On his way in or out? And why? The feeling she’d had earlier of trusting in him, in knowing he was safe, faded just a bit. Could it have been Wade, or Sylvie, or Baz? The fact was, none of them was careful about building security, and even she was still getting used to all the doors in this behemoth of a building. There could even be doors she’d not yet discovered. For all she knew, the door could have been unlocked for days. Owen didn’t work Thur
sdays, so the door could have been unlocked since Wednesday when he left.
“I don’t know, Owen. That’s not good. I’ll have a talk with everyone. Did anything look disturbed?”
“Just me” he said, and winked.
His unexpected sense of humor sometimes threw Megan off, but she smiled. “You are indeed disturbed,” she said. “Well, sorry about that. We’ll all be more careful. I’m most worried about the upstairs guests, about their not paying attention.” She didn’t say it, but Emlyn’s cavalier, superior attitude was particularly bothersome. She could see Emlyn being quite careless about anything that didn’t concern her. “I’ll double check before I go to bed tonight. Thanks for letting me know.”
Owen saluted and headed back downstairs. A few minutes later, Megan sensed a disturbance in the air around her again, and looked up once more.
This time it was Kevin who stood before her. “Kevin!” she said, a great smile bursting across her face. “What brings you here?”
He laughed. “Even I sometimes read,” he said. “But I just needed to use the copier,” he added, when Megan gave him a skeptical look. He waved some papers in the air.
“That sounds more like the truth,” said Megan.
“Have you heard any more from Max?” he said. “Have they solved the case yet? Or have they gotten anything back from the coroner or whatever?”
Megan shook her head. “Nothing. He’s keeping me at arm’s length, I think. I’m trying not to take it personally.” She smiled, and tried to remind herself not to be bothered by the fact.
“Okay. Gotta run,” Kevin said, “but I thought I’d say hi while I was here. Didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you. We still need to get a drink sometime again.”
“Yes,” said Megan. “Yes, we definitely do. Oh, hey—” she called out as he was rushing off, and he turned and came back. “Where on the east coast did you say Courtney is from?” she asked.
Kevin gave her a puzzled look. “Philadelphia,” he said. “Why? What’s up?”
Megan shook her head. “Nothing, I was just curious. I couldn’t remember what you’d said. There seem to be so many people moving here from the east these days. I was just wondering.”
Kevin’s brow betrayed his confusion, but he didn’t press the issue. “I gotta go,” he said. “Give me a call.” And he ran off.
As she watched him head toward the copier by the staircase, Megan was surprised to see Gus walking in the front door. He saw her and headed straight to her desk, a sheepish smile on his face.
“Hey,” he said. He stood at the desk, somewhat awkwardly, and looked around the building. “Nice place you have here.” He laughed weakly at his own joke.
“Hey, Gus!” Megan said, hoping her enthusiasm would encourage and comfort him. “Thanks. We like it. It used to be a mansion owned by Edison Finley Wright. Have you heard of him?”
Gus nodded, “Oh, yeah, of course. I’d heard that he owned the place. Hadn’t been by yet. It’s nice.” He had his hands in his pockets, and was rocking back and forth on his feet, still taking in the grandeur of the space.
Megan could tell his mind was not fully on the architecture, though. “What can I do for you, Gus?” she said gently.
“So you’re really a librarian, not with the press,” he said, shaking his head a bit at another awkward joke. “I … Well, I just wanted to come by and say thanks. For the talk. The other day. When Romy and I split up—” he paused. “When we split up, she got possession of all our friends. I became a bit of a hermit. I don’t have a lot of people right now. I didn’t really have anyone to talk to about Romy. You … well, let’s just say you came at the right time. I needed someone to listen, to … to just be there.” His eyes started to glisten and he looked up with fascination at the strings of lights overhead for several long seconds before looking back at Megan. “So, thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Megan said. She remembered after Zeus died, how everyone wanted to help but no one knew what to say. Because there was no right thing to say, as it turned out. She grabbed one of her business cards, wrote her cell number on the back, and handed it to him. “If you need an ear,” she said.
Gus took the card and nodded his gratitude. “I will.” He cleared his throat. “So this library! Mind if I look around? This whole thing was really a house once? Can you imagine?” he said, forcing cheerfulness into his voice.
Megan took the cue to move the conversation along. “Before it was converted, I had a chance to come in and look around. It was pretty amazing. But I think it would get lonely. Way too much space for one or two people. My apartment is upstairs,” she nodded in the direction of the staircase, “and it’s all I need.”
Gus followed her gaze to the stairs, and looked up. “Behind that door, I assume?” he said. Megan nodded. “You get the whole upstairs to yourself?” He looked up and down the lower space again, seeming to calculate in his mind what the upstairs space must look like.
“No, no, not at all,” Megan said, laughing. “There are some guest rooms upstairs, too. Romy’s sister and brother-in-law are staying with me, and also Romy’s agent. Well, her temporary agent. Emlyn. She’s here, too.”
“Emlyn,” said Gus. “Yeah that’s not her normal agent. What happened to Jordan? I liked Jordan.”
“Jordan, that was her regular agent? Maternity leave, Romy told me. Busy populating the earth with more readers.” She grinned.
“Huh,” said Gus. He paused. “We never did that. Kids. I wanted to, but …” He then seemed to get lost in the past, almost forgetting Megan was there. After a few moments, his eyes cleared and he returned to the present. He tapped his knuckles on Megan's desk. “Want to give me the grand tour?” he said, sweeping an arm wide to indicate the library.
Megan looked at the clock. Just before four. She’d been so preoccupied all week and was feeling quite behind in her work, but she knew what it meant to have human company when grieving. Straightening the papers on her desk, she stood. “How about the baby grand tour?” she said. “I have to get this done, but I can show you the highlights.”
By the time Megan had showed Gus around the main level, with a quick run down to the conference area, most of the patrons had cleared out of the library. Friday nights were like that, Megan had noticed, and she made a mental note to think about whether they should close earlier on Fridays, maybe extending another, more popular, night, instead. Or, she then thought, maybe the people of Emerson Falls needed a reason to come to the library on Friday nights. She would have to think on it.
As they passed by the grand staircase on their way back to Megan's desk, she waved her hand toward the upstairs. “That, up there, is the living area, as discussed. And that’s it, for now. Maybe more to come. We have a lot of space right now that we’re just using for storage. And rooms that are just completely empty. I’m hoping we can find ways to utilize it all better.”
Gus studied what he could see of the upstairs level, then looked out the great windows overlooking the river. “You must have a good view from up there,” he said admiringly.
“I do,” Megan said. She got the vague sense that Gus was going to ask to be invited up, but he didn’t. Instead, he tapped the pocket in which he’d put her business card.
“Thanks again. Means a lot,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Anytime,” Megan said.
* * *
By the end of the day, Megan was itching to get outside. Once the library was shut down and all the patrons had gone home, she ran upstairs, changed quickly, and then headed out toward the falls. She took the same route she’d taken the other day for the fans’ memorial. Amazing, she thought, how long ago that seemed now. It seemed that in the time between then and now, the seasons should have changed, the flowers in bloom should have withered, the water depth should have lowered. But there it all was once again, the reed canary grass, the Oregon grape. Addie Emerson’s memorial park with its English yew and Scottish heather and tulips. Though it felt
like it had been forever, time was standing still, waiting for justice for Romy’s death.
As always, Megan felt as though the river itself were somehow connected to her own bloodstream, its coursing power helping to keep her alive. Of lakes, the ocean, and rivers, Megan liked rivers best. Lakes felt stagnant and enclosed. The ocean made her feel too small, which, admittedly, was good sometimes. But rivers felt infinite, like a Möbius strip, with no beginning and no end.
Waterfalls, on the other hand, Megan thought as she neared the falls and the roar started to fill her ears, waterfalls ruled over all the other forms of water. Having a home over the river was fantastic, but if she could one day have a cottage next to a secret waterfall with its own crystal clear pool? Well. Paradise.
She walked down the nature trail a ways and then veered off slightly onto a path that most didn’t know about. Or if they did, they were careful, like she was, not to leave any trace of their passage. Where branches blocked her way she very gently moved them aside to let herself through, then eased them back into position. She walked on rocks when she could, trying not to leave footprints. Zeus had revealed this path to her on their third date. He had whispered in her ear that it was their secret, the puff of his breath tickling her skin and making her giggle. They must always take care to be sure they weren’t followed, he’d said, as though they were spies on a secret mission. Most people were too lazy or reticent to strike out on their own, he’d said. “Or law abiding and careful not to disrupt nature,” she’d teased, but she’d followed him anyway, feeling a special thrill at their escape from the beaten path. As long as possible, they would keep this place to themselves.
In reality, their secret waterfall was small, its drop only about five feet. The pool at its bottom was not much bigger than a hot tub. But it was theirs.
