9. Chapter 9

nine

On her way to Divine Coffee's service counter, Harper smiled and nodded at Walt, then delighted in the warm and fuzzy feeling in her belly when he smiled back. As usual, his tanned, lined face gave no hint as to his thoughts, but his amber eyes held her fascinated.

Deanna greeted her cheerfully. "Hello, Harper! So good to see you! What are you having today?" Harper tore her eyes from Walt's and looked at the neatly chalked menu behind her. Looking at the options reminded her of her empty stomach and aching feet.

"Hi Deanna. I'm bushed! I've been handing out bags of cookies and gift cards to the shopkeepers and apartment dwellers up and down our street. Here's a bag for you and Dashawn. I hope you like them!"

"Oh, thank you Harper! Man, those cookies look good! I just love it when someone else cooks for me. Did you make these yourself?"

Harper felt proud. "Yes. I did. Something about Whippoorwill Gap's brought out the baker in me. But don't expect too much. I doubt they are as good as anything you make. And speaking of things you make, could I have a grilled chicken salad with the lime vinaigrette and a large glass of unsweetened tea?"

"Sure thing! Since things are clearing out now, I think Abby can handle it. I'll bring my lunch over and join you while you eat if that's okay."

At this, the pretty, brown-eyed young woman sporting a dark ponytail and a Divine Coffee t-shirt smiled over her shoulder at Deanna. "I absolutely can! Take a break."

Harper gratefully made her way to her favorite corner table by the window, one of many that were empty of customers that afternoon.

When she brought Harper's salad, Deanna sat down with a Reuben and chips for herself. Despite a busy morning of work, she looked as cool as her salads. "It's nice to have a little break in the action. April and May make up the off season around here. When the college lets out for the summer, things slow down a little, but then come summer, tourists make up the difference. Once the public-schools let out next week, business will start picking up again." She took a sip of her tea. "It was nice of you to get out and introduce yourself to the neighbors. I'll bet they were all tickled to meet you."

Harper smiled and took another bite of her salad, swallowing appreciatively before answering. "My gosh, this is good! What do you put in that dressing to give that zing? To answer your question, I wanted to get everyone's phone number and to give them mine. You'll find my number inside, on your gift card. Would you be okay with giving me yours?"

Deanna pulled her phone from her apron pocket. "Absolutely! How about exchanging them now? I'll put you in my phone and then shoot you a message. And it's probably the cilantro you're liking in the dressing. So, how did it go? What did you think of the neighbors?"

Harper recounted her morning, beginning at the law offices on the corner of Oak and Main Streets where she left a bag of cookies with gift certificates at the front desk. Making her way down the street, her next stop was the CPA's office. There she met Ida Barker, who lived in the top-floor apartment. "She seems nice enough. Her apartment is full of antiques and expensive decorations." She paused thinking of Ida, a woman she'd guessed was in her early seventies, with a no-nonsense, short silver haircut, who wore a form-fitting jogging suit.

Deanna regarded her frankly. "But she came across as cold and severe, right? Don't worry, once she gets to know you, she'll warm up, I promise. Ida's folks owned a factory around here. It closed about thirty years ago. They left her with enough money to live comfortably. Her husband went through some of it, betting on strike-it-rich schemes, before she caught him with a show girl from the old dinner theater that used to be out on Highway 9. Then she kicked him out. She tends to be wary of strangers, even now. Who can blame her?"

Harper mulled this over. One of the reasons she'd had lunch at Deanna's was because she wanted to get the scoop on the people she'd met. "Good to know. I'll be kind and understanding until she's comfortable with me. That is, if I ever see her again."

"Oh, you'll see her again if you get out and participate in anything. She's set herself up as the Grand Dame of Whippoorwill Gap. If there is a festival, she plans it. When there's a fundraiser, she's behind it. Well, maybe not every time, but a good chunk of the time. She has a good heart under that tough exterior. You'll see. Who else did you meet?"

Harper told her most of the apartment dwellers had been out. She'd already met Evie Adams at the Great Green Grocer's, who was pleased with the gift bag. Continuing down the street, she'd met Mike at Zippy's Hot Dogs. She chatted for the first time with Robert Kirk at Kirk's Jewelry. She'd liked his quiet, formal, and reserved demeanor. He looked to be in his early sixties, with hair turning silver at the temples, and he wore a tie and jacket. But she'd decided not to ask about music coming from his shop after hours. If it wasn't coming from him, she didn't want to know.

Deanna continued filling her in. "Mike is all business. He lives outside town and this place is strictly a job for him. He's a nice guy, but he's not as involved in the community as some of us. Evie's a good one. She mostly keeps to herself, too, but she's a sympathetic ear if you need one. There are a few stuffed shirts around who look at her sideways because of her hippie style and attitude, but she's a good person. Most of us love her for exactly who she is. And Robert? He's there when you need him, and he leaves you alone when you don't. He's always been a bit of a mystery to me. Did you meet Andrew or Chase from Take Flight Brewery?"

"I met Chase. He was coming down the stairs beside Evie's place as I was getting ready to go up. He didn't have much time to talk since he was heading to the brewery. But he did give me the run-down of their schedule. It's impressive! I introduced myself and gave him the gift bag to share with Andrew. He told me to come by the brewery for a free beer anytime. That was sweet of him, but I probably won't. I don't like beer."

Deanna slapped the table lightly. "The Take Flight Brewery has great beer! And it's a good place to get to know the locals. They have entertainment every day they're open in the summer, fall, and winter. Honestly, those guys run themselves to death. But I'd be happy to go with you one evening so you can claim your beer. Dashawn would probably join us, if that's okay with you."

Harper wasn't at all sure she wanted to get cozy with everyone in the town. But she already liked Deanna. Before she could put the brakes on, a lifetime of people-pleasing kicked in. "I'll take you up on that. Let me know when it would work for you guys."

Deanna picked up the last chip on her plate before pushing it away. "So, how're things going with the shop, Harper? Is everything moving along as expected?"

Harper knew by now that Deanna wasn't judgmental. She shook her head. "Strange things happen in there all the time. I hope you don't think I'm nuts, but I've just about decided the shop is haunted."

"Hum." From her expression, it was hard to read Deanna's thoughts. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, for one thing, everything always stays clean. I haven't hired anyone to do it for me. And I'm not doing it myself because I don't need to. Other things are done for me when I show up in the morning. Like … I'll find boxes unpacked. I know I didn't do it. I asked the workers, and they denied doing it. And then a week or so ago, I walked in one morning and found a bunch of fresh daisies scattered around the storage room." She stopped and shook her head. "I'm pretty sure a person isn't doing this because I've changed the locks since I got here. I know it would make the most sense for it to be a person, but I just don't see how it's possible." She looked at Deanna. "Okay, tell me I'm crazy."

Deanna kept her eyes on the table as she shook her head. "I don't think you're crazy. Not at all. Freaky things can happen. You know, Frank had only just passed away when they found him in the basement. That was a strange story, in itself. It was a Sunday morning, and the shop was closed. Robert had taken a walk in the park. When he came by Frank's on his way to the jewelry store, the front door was wide open. And it had been propped open by a stack of books. Frank never left the door open, even when he was working. So, Robert went in and hollered for him, but didn't get an answer. After searching around, he found Frank hunched over a table of books in the basement. He wasn't even cold yet. Now, mind you, there was nothing suspicious about the death itself. Frank was old. He had a heart attack. That's what the autopsy said."

Harper examined the beads of sweat rolling down her glass of iced tea. "You don't think something could have scared Frank or shocked him so bad that he maybe, I don't know, died of fright?"

Deanna looked out the window. "I guess that's possible, but Frank hadn't been well for almost a decade. We were all wondering when he was going to retire. But no, there were no signs of a struggle. And like I said, he was hunched over a table like he'd been working."

After clearing her throat, Deanna smiled at the birds outside the window clustered between their shops. "Maybe the robins are helping you out. Did you ever think of that?"

Harper's eyebrows shot up along with the left corner of her mouth. "No, Deanna, I'll have to admit, I've never thought of that. To me, a ghost would make more sense. Are you kidding?" She smiled to show she meant no offense.

Deanna kept watching the robins on the sidewalk between their shops. "I don't know, Harper. Like I said, I've seen some strange things in my day, too. I've come to believe anything is possible."

Harper had started to ask what sorts of things when Abby came over to tell Deanna a delivery man needed to speak with her in the back. They quickly finished their lunches, and Deanna smiled apologetically as she stood. "Try not to worry, My Friend. I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Harper felt a rush of pleasure at being addressed as "My Friend." She left a nice tip for Abby, who was working her way through college, and smiled at Walt, still sitting at his nearby table. "Nice day out, isn't it?"

He blinked at her with a serious expression before answering. "Absolutely gorgeous. I'm looking forward to spending some time down by the river this afternoon."

"Well, maybe I'll see you there when I take my walk later. The park's been stunning this spring."

"It always is, Harper. Yes, we may see each other there."

Once again, Harper felt fizzy. His voice pulled at her like an enchanting dream just on the edge of memory.

Outside the coffee shop, she glanced at the Birdsong Theatre's parking lot across the street. The Johnny and the Plowshares concert she'd attended with Gina back in the fall seemed like a lifetime ago now. While the audience at that concert had been pretty tame, she had been told that nights could sometimes be rowdy there, depending on the show playing at the theatre. The music inside couldn't be heard from the apartments, but Deanna had told her that sometimes the crowds were noisy going in and coming out. She smiled to herself. That was another reason she was pleased with her decision to place her bedrooms and living room at the back side of the building. The noise shouldn't bother her while she was cooking dinner in the kitchen, and she wouldn't be working in her office at night.

Unlike in the units across Oak Street, most of the top floors in the buildings on Harper's side had been converted to apartments. Some, like hers and Deanna's, were only accessible from inside the buildings. Others had walkup staircases from the outside.

Harper sighed happily, pleased with her day's work. While, apart from Deanna, she didn't want to be best buddies with any of her neighbors, she was happy to be friendly acquaintances with them all.

With a couple hours left in the day before it would be time to head back to her cottage, Harper decided to peek upstairs to see how the painters fared. By the time she finished answering their questions and admiring their work, it was after 4:00. She walked to the park, hoping to see Walt there, but he had apparently already gone home. But looking up at the large sycamore by the river, she smiled. The owl watched her from its customary perch in its tree.

Several weeks later, Harper inspected her completed top-floor apartment at the Robin's Nest for the last time before moving in. The late afternoon sun filtered through the open, south-facing back windows, lighting up her living room and master bedroom. The sounds and smells of the river wafted through the window screens. She'd had the walls in the living room painted a soothing shade of cream with the smallest hint of pink to warm it up. She sat down on the overstuffed blue chintz sofa, covered in a pattern of small, pink roses that she'd bought back in March. The soft pink pillows she had placed on it made her unreasonably happy. Tim had made it clear, from the time they married, that he didn't want anything that reminded him of stomach medicine in his house. But here, she could revel in pink to her heart's content. And she'd scattered it liberally throughout almost every room.

Harper stood and walked through the apartment, taking note of everything she loved about it. She glanced into the nearly empty guest rooms. One, painted apple green, already had a bed and a dresser, so she could invite Gina for a visit soon. She couldn't wait to get her friend's reaction to her new place.

Then she walked into her own bedroom, an involuntary smile spreading across her face. The walls were a soft robin's egg blue, set off by floor-to-ceiling thick white muslin curtains. When she sat on the brass bed's mattress, it was soft, but not too soft. It was, as the story went, "just right." Goldilocks. I'm like Goldilocks. Not too hard and not too soft, just right . The bed was covered with a cushy white chenille bedspread, and she planned to get a white upholstered chair for the corner. She had bought a nice, 1920s-era, golden oak chest of drawers and matching dresser at the Bric ‘a' Brac, the antique mall on Main Street. It all harmonized perfectly in this room.

She sat on the bed and studied the pictures on the wall. One small grouping displayed pictures of her family—one of her with her parents, one of Grandma Sophie alone, and one of Harper with Grandma. She walked over and ran a finger over her grandmother's face before turning to the other artwork. Opposite the bed hung some oil paintings she had bought from a local artist at one of the town's galleries. These renderings of graceful ballet dancers looked lovely and reminded her of childhood dance classes, when she pretended to be a swan. The wood flooring was covered with a large, round wool rug in yellow, blue, and white. Once she found the chair she wanted, this room would be perfect.

On catching her reflection in the dresser's mirror, she got up to peer at herself closely. Seriously, what was happening with her hair? Where it had been blonde and gray when she moved here, it was now sprouting black and brown streaks. How could that be happening? It was like a fun-house version of aging in reverse. She turned away and headed to the door.

On her way to the door, she glanced around with a brand-new burst of excitement as she remembered that starting tomorrow, she would end every day in this beautiful room. She padded to the apartment door where she had left her shoes. From the small table by the entrance, she picked up a note that the painters had left her.

Harper,

We enjoyed working for you! Let us know if you found everything to your satisfaction. We'll send an email in a few days with a link to our site. We always appreciate reviews! And speaking of appreciation, we'd like to thank you for hanging all the pictures in the apartment for us. We will be taking $100.00 off the final bill for the time that saved us. And again, thanks for all the snacks and coffee! If you ever need help with anything again, you know who to call.

Jane and Bill

For the second time, she frowned over the note. She hadn't hung any pictures anywhere. All she had done was place the pictures on the floor beneath the spots where she wanted them, with a note that specified how high they should be. She hated climbing ladders and wasn't strong enough to hang her artwork anyway. Yet she had found them hanging exactly as she had requested. Until she found the note, she had thought Jane and Bill were responsible.

This was the only wrinkle in her happiness. She still had no idea who or what was assisting in the shop. And now she knew whoever—whatever—it was, it came into the apartment, too. She thought of a book she had bought and read shortly after buying this building, The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald. In it, a woman in an English seaside town lived alone in a bookshop that was haunted—by a poltergeist. Harper had admired the character's pluck. And she had decided that if Fitzgerald's Florence could survive a poltergeist, Harper could live with a friendly ghost.

After shoving the note into her pocket, her hand closed around her mirror. And it once again worked like a charm to calm her fear. When she descended to the main floor, she wasn't terribly surprised to hear the sound of bells faintly drifting up from downstairs. By the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, the bells had stopped ringing and everything was still.

Her gut clenched with an unsettling combination of excitement and anxiety. Tomorrow night , I will spend the night here alone, come what may. She glanced around the darkening space before opening the door and heading out into the warm summer night.