Софи Келли - A Midwinter's Tail

Vincent nodded. “There are several people here in town that clearly know something about rare books. I was impressed with the questions I was asked.” He patted the pocket of his heavy dark brown jacket. “I’ll be e-mailing more information to several people.” Then he smiled. “I’d love to return and do a workshop next time I’m in the area, Kathleen.”

I smiled back. “I’d like that as well,” I said.

We shook hands and Abigail and I pointed him in the direction of Henderson Holdings. Then we headed back to the library.

“This morning went better than I expected,” Abigail said, pulling her scarf a little tighter around her neck.

“I know,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets and wishing I’d worn my heavier gloves. “We had a great turnout. There were a lot of people who drove from Minneapolis, but there were a lot of people from here in town, too.”

She looked at me as we waited to cross at the corner. “I was surprised to see Brady,” she said. “Given that his mother . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. Then before I could say anything, she shook her head. “Listen to me. I sound like the stereotypical small-town busybody.”

“You don’t and you aren’t,” I said as we turned toward the library. “You’re concerned about Brady. That’s not being a busybody, that’s just being a decent person.”

She kicked a chunk of snow down the sidewalk. “My father would never have won any father-of-the-year prizes. I told you how he reacted when I got married without his approval.”

I nodded.

“He was the kind of person for whom nothing was ever good enough, especially anything I did, it seemed.” She looked past me, out over the water. “I’d like to tell you that he changed as he got older, but he didn’t. He was a sour old man and I promised myself that I wasn’t going to be like that. I didn’t forgive anything he did, but I did spend time with him before he died. Not for him, Kathleen. For me, so I could know I wasn’t the same kind of person he was.”

“I understand that,” I said as we approached the library building.

“Brady’s relationship with his mother is none of my business,” Abigail said. “She left those boys and that’s a hard thing to forgive.” She sighed. “But Dayna’s dead now and there are no more chances for . . . anything. Swallowing all the feelings that go along with that isn’t a good thing.”

I thought about Mags, touching Brady’s hand and seconding Marcus’s suggestion that Brady go to the hospital. I was very glad she’d done that.

As we came level with the parking lot, I spied Burtis Chapman’s big black truck in the parking lot with Burtis behind the wheel.

“Abigail,” I said. “I see Burtis over there. I’m just going to go talk to him for a minute.”

She nodded. “I’ll see you inside,” she said, and headed for the stairs.

I made my way across the lot, making a mental note that I needed to get Harry Taylor to spread a little more sand around, and Burtis climbed out of the truck when he saw me coming. He was wearing a heavy navy jacket and a trapper hat with earflaps.

“Hello, Kathleen,” he said as he came around the front of the truck.

I smiled. “Hello, Burtis,” I said. “Were you by any chance waiting for me?”

“Yes, I was. I wanted to say I’m sorry your fundraiser got ruined last night.”

I pulled my hat a little farther down over my ears. The air was sharply cold and the snow I’d known was coming was just beginning.

“Thank you,” I said. “But it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” I hesitated. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

“Dayna hasn’t been my wife in a long time, but I appreciate the thought.” He studied my face for a moment. “You know about me and Lita,” he said. “I know you saw us together, months ago.”

My face flooded with color as I realized Burtis must have seen my swan dive down onto the front seat of my truck the day I’d spotted him with Lita, standing this close in this same parking lot.

“I apologize,” I said, feeling like an awkward teenager. “I was just . . . surprised. I wasn’t spying. I didn’t want to embarrass the two of you.” I gestured with one hand. “So I decided it was better to embarrass myself.”

Burtis laughed. “Don’t worry about it, girl. I knew you wouldn’t be spreading my business all over town, although I wasn’t sure for a minute if you were just trying not to be seen or if maybe you were after a sandwich you’d spied on the floor.”

I laughed. “Could we pretend I was going after a sandwich?” I asked.

“Fine by me,” Burtis said with a smile. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded envelope, which he held out to me.

“What’s this?” I said, even though I pretty much knew.

“It’s for your reading program.”

I narrowed my eyes, studying his ruddy face. It didn’t look as though he’d shaved since the previous day, and I noticed lines pulling at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Discovering that his former wife was back in town and then having her die in such a public way had to have been difficult for Burtis.

“You already gave me a check for Reading Buddies when you bought your tickets.”

His expression hardened just a little. “And now I’m giving you another one.”

“Why?” I asked. I still hadn’t taken the envelope he was holding out.

“When someone offers you a check, you’re supposed to say thank you and take it,” Burtis said. There was just a bit of an edge to his voice. He dropped the folded envelope into my pocket.

“You’re the last person I would have expected to give me guilt money,” I said, meeting his dark eyes with the hint of a challenge in my own.

He gave a loud snort of derision. “Really? Do I look guilty to you?”

“Maybe guilty isn’t the right word,” I said. “But I do think you feel something—bad, angry frustrated, I don’t know—because of what happened last night.”

He continued to meet my gaze, never once looking away. “I think what happened last night was a damn shame—for my boys and for your fundraiser.” He fished his keys out of his jacket pocket. “I have to get down to the community center. Thorsten is waiting on me.”

I touched my own jacket pocket. “Thank you for this,” I said. I knew there really was no point in arguing about the money. He’d just do an end run around me and give the check to Lita.

“You should come by Fern’s for breakfast,” Burtis said. “I haven’t seen you there for at least a month. Weekend special this Saturday is the Big Breakfast. Best coffee in town. Don’t tell Eric Cullen I said that.” One eyebrow went up. “And the conversation can be pretty interestin’, too.”

“I might just do that,” I said.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said. He raised a hand in good-bye and walked back around the front of the big black truck. I trudged across the snowy parking lot toward the front steps of the library. I pulled the envelope out of my pocket and looked at the check inside. It was made out for more money than Burtis’s original donation.

I didn’t know if he really was motivated by guilt or something else. I just knew that first thing Saturday morning I was going to be perched on a stool at Fern’s Diner digging into the Big Breakfast and trying to dig up some answers about how Dayna Chapman had died.

6

There were two furry faces waiting for me when I got home and stepped into the kitchen. Two pairs of feline eyes, one green and one gold, looked up at me. I wasn’t so gullible that I thought the cats had actually missed me. I’d made fish cakes for supper earlier in the week and I’d cooked a little extra fish for them. I had no idea how they knew that. But they did. For all I knew, they both had X-ray vision that let them see inside the refrigerator. It wasn’t totally preposterous, given their other superpowers.