GiB - 1

168 20 0
                                    

Alex and Claire were grateful to get out of the Hilux and stretch their legs after the long drive. It was past dinner time and their stomachs complained almost louder than their knees. They unloaded their bags from the backseat and carried them into the living room. It was nice to be back home.

"I'll fix us a bite," said Claire, starting to the kitchen.

"Great."

Alex took the rolling bag to Claire's room, dropped her rucksack in her own room and headed to the kitchen too. She paused at the living room, before the fireplace mantelpiece, to light a small white candle before the framed pictures. The photograph of her parents' wedding and the one of her big sister Rosalind with a one-year-old Claire in her arms. Alex couldn't help a smile, because Claire had grown to look so much like her mother.

Alex's eyes fell on Old Bootter's photograph. His face showed what a broody loner he used to be. However, his temper had never scared Alex. She'd won the old man's heart when she was but a little girl, and he'd grown deeply fond of her. Grandpa Bootter. The town's weirdo. He'd left the family farm when he was twenty-five, and it'd taken him thirty years to find his way back. But he'd eventually found it, and he'd come back to stay.

By then, his older brother had died and the one in charge of the farm was Bootter's nephew, Alex's father, who lived there with his wife and two daughters. Bootter had repaired the cabin across the backyard and moved in there, taking over the old shed to keep his stuff under locks and keys.

He'd never said a word about where he'd been or what he'd done over all those years. Until his curious, relentless, merry grandniece got through his rough, moody ways and loosened his tongue. And over the years, Alex had realized that even though nobody talked about it, everybody had an idea about what he'd been doing while he was away. The whole town knew he watched over them, so they didn't need to worry if something strange lurked around.

Alex's phone buzzed when she was still gazing at Old Bootter's picture. A smile curled up her lips when she saw who was calling.

Claire came out of the kitchen, looking for her, and found the front door open. She heard her aunt's voice from the porch.

"Oh, yeah, we saw them on our way home," Alex was saying when Claire walked out the front door. "You'll have to be patient. Rob's been planning this party for months."

Her smile told Claire who was talking to. The girl tiptoed back inside.

"Now?" asked Alex. "Well, we just got back and we're about to have a late dinner." She smiled wider. "An hour sounds perfect."

She disconnected still smiling. Seeing George always lifter her mood, and it would help her close the door on what had happened over the last two weeks. She wanted to leave it all behind and resume her everyday life.

The odd silence all around stopped her before walking into the house. She glanced up at the summer sky full of stars, breathed in the smell of the trees in the cool breeze, looked at the neighboring houses. Something was off, but she couldn't tell what.

A woman her age came out of the house next door and waved hi at her from the other side of the hedge.

"Hey, Al."

"Hey, Tricia."

A deep howl came from the woman's backyard.

"A fire?" she asked, frowning.

"Don't think so. No alarms. And no smell of smoke."

"True. Crazy dogs." The woman smiled at Alex. "Night, Al."

Claire showed up in time to wave at their neighbor, then she looked out with Alex.

"Sounds like they're warning each other," she said. Alex didn't reply, studying her. "There's this feeling in the air. Like something's coming. That's what makes them howl like this."

Tricia's dog howled again, causing Alex a chill.

"Well, whatever it is, it better wait until tomorrow. George's picking me up in an hour."

"Yeah, and dinner's ready."

George honked outside Alex's house right in time. Thirty-five, a nice smile on a gentle face, he was a San Francisco architect that had moved to Bold Peak less than a year earlier, and his city sense of fashion still showed, no matter how hard he tried to follow the local trend. A few weeks after moving in, he'd associated with the only broker in town and set his studio upstairs from the realtor's office on Main Street.

Alex hurried out and climbed in the passenger's seat as George lowered the volume of his U2 collection.

"So how were those vacations?" he asked, pulling away from the curb. "I thought you'd be back a week ago."

Alex shrugged. Yeah, sorry, we had to get rid of psycho granny and Casper sister. And while at it, we met these smoking hot guys and decided to spend the next week with them on the road. Err, nope. Better keep that to herself.

"Yeah, we didn't feel like coming straight back home."

"Meaning you won't tell me what you've been doing. Never mind, Corban. I'll figure you out sooner or later."

"Beware. Curiosity killed the cat."

They chuckled together as George turned onto Main Street and slowed down, to pull over across the street from his studio, a whole block before the bar.

"Forgot something at your office?" Alex asked.

George winked at her. "Wanna kill a little lion?"

He got out of the car and circled it to open Alex's door. She noticed they were outside a vacant shop and frowned.

"What happened to Peg's shop?"

To her surprise, George produced a key and opened the door, motioning for Alex to walk in.

"Peg's daughter's having trouble with her pregnancy. She closed up shop last week and moved to Portland to look after her until further notice."

Alex took a hesitating step in. The place still smelled of Peg's trademark lavender sticks. George walked past her to stand in the middle of the store and turned to her, always smiling.

"Peg asked me to find a reliable tenant," he said, and threw the key for Alex to catch. "So what're you gonna call your bookstore on Main Street?"

She caught the key out of instinct. "What?" she cried. "Oh, my, George! For real?"

"For really real."

She laughed out loud, crossed the store and threw her arms around George's neck. "Thank you," she said before kissing him.

It didn't last as long as George would've wanted, because Alex stepped back to look around again, still trying to believe it.

"Can't wait to tell Claire!" She grabbed George's hand. "Let's go, Carson. Tonight I'm treating you to whatever you want."

"Whatever?" he repeated, letting Alex take him back out to the street. "I'm so holding you to your word, Corban!"

Don't Open That Door - GoM 1Where stories live. Discover now