Кэти Дэйли - The Curse Of Hollister House

I nodded. “I’ll make the time.”

Gracie and I chatted for a while longer and then I went upstairs to shower and dress. It was odd to be back living in my childhood room. Don’t get me wrong, it was a great room with its own bath and a large picture window that overlooked the lake. In addition to the bed and dresser, there was a seating area where a small divan and two armchairs framed a wood fireplace. Gracie had been talking about converting to gas for years because the fireplaces went a long way toward heating the house, but apparently, she hadn’t gotten around to it.

I sat down at my makeup table and stared into the mirror. I hadn’t figured out the next step in my life, but if I was going to stay for more than just a few weeks, I might want to think about making some changes. The pink-and-white-print wallpaper was dated, the linens on the bed almost two decades old, and even the white antique bookshelves looked out of date. My tastes had changed a lot since I’d lived in this room as a teen. Perhaps a room furnished in black and white, with black-and-white photos on the walls would be just the thing. Dark furniture, a light rug, and perhaps a patterned bedcover. The sofa was great, but the color was all wrong, so maybe I’d reupholster it in white and then do the armchairs in black. The bookshelves and dresser could be black as well, which would look nice against light walls. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the ideas. Of course, I’d need to talk to Gracie about them. This was, after all, her house.

The rain had returned by the time I drove into town. It was just sprinkling at this point, and the wind that had thundered through the area last evening had stilled to little more than a chilly breath. I doubted it would snow, but that was in our immediate future; I could feel it in my bones. Bones, I reminded myself, that were still healing from the pounding they’d taken in the accident. I still wasn’t sure what had happened exactly. I’d gone over the event again and again in my mind, asking myself if I could have done anything better or differently to avoid what would end up being a career-ending event. I’d been on my way to rehearsal, humming to a tune that seemed to have planted itself in my head when, seemingly from out of nowhere, a car slammed into me. I’d never even seen it coming. The man driving the other car had not survived the accident. I wanted to feel bad about that, but as hard as I tried, I simply couldn’t get there. They say that forgiveness is the key to moving on, but how was I supposed to forgive the person who’d decided it was a good idea to drink and drive only to end both our lives?

Once I reached the little downtown section of Foxtail Lake, I decided to park in the public lot and then walk up and down the street gathering the items I’d need. I’d brought my large shoulder tote to put everything in, and while the rain had steadied just a bit, I figured a little rain never hurt anyone. When I’d lived in New York, I’d actually walked quite a bit, preferring not to hassle with public transportation. I’d enjoyed the hustle and bustle of city life, but now that I was home in this tiny little town by the lake, I found the peace and quiet suited me as well.

“Callie Collins, is that really you?” asked Walter Bowman, the local pharmacist.

“It’s really me,” I replied.

“I heard you were back. It’s so good to see you. It’s been a while.”

Pretty much everyone I’d run in to so far had made a similar comment, but I supposed they weren’t wrong. “Too long,” I agreed.

“So, how can I help you today?”

“I have a couple of prescriptions I need to have filled. I spoke to my doctor, and she said that if I got a phone number, she’d fax them over.”

Walter handed me a form. “All the information you’ll need to supply is right here. Are you staying long?”

“For a while. Long enough to need to transfer my prescriptions. Do you have any idea how long it will take to fill them once you receive the information from my doctor?”

“Depends on what you need. If you want to leave a phone number, I can call or text you when the prescriptions are ready.”

I jotted down my cell number. “A text would be great.” I looked around the tiny shop. “Does Jayme still work with you?”

Jayme, his daughter, worked the counter when I lived here before.

“She got married and moved to Aspen. She has two kids now and another one on the way.”

I smiled. “That’s great. I bet you love being a grandpa.”

He bobbed his head. “I do at that. Even been thinking about selling this place and moving to Aspen so I can be close to her family. I’m the only one here in Foxtail Lake now, so it feels like it might be time to move on.”

“I’ll miss you if you go, but I totally understand. It seems like a lot of the folks who lived here when I was last in Foxtail Lake have moved away in the past fourteen years.”

“Seems like it is getting harder and harder to make a living here. Besides, once young folks such as yourself move away, that only leaves us old geezers to carry on.”

I supposed Walter had a point. It did seem that a larger-than-average percentage of the local population was qualified to receive a senior discount.

“The community board is near overflowing with homes for sale all of a sudden,” he continued.

I glanced at the bulletin board, which was provided for locals to use to advertise community events, as well as items for sale. It did seem as if there were a lot of houses for sale. More than I remembered seeing in the past, not that I’d been old enough to pay all that much attention to such things when I lived here before.

I plucked one of the flyers off the wall. “It looks like they still need volunteers for the haunted barn.”

“Last I heard, they were looking for volunteers for pretty much everything relating to this year’s Harvest Festival. If you have time and are so inclined, you might want to talk to Hope Mansfield over at the library. She’s the one who is organizing things this year. Or at least she was. I guess you heard about Tracy Porter.”

I nodded. “It really is tragic.”

“Hope was Tracy’s godmother. It’s understandable that she has been taking things hard. If I had to guess, the festival committee might have found someone to take over her duties so that she has the time she needs to grieve.”

“I remember Hope from when I lived here before. I wasn’t aware she was so close to Tracy. I should stop by to offer my condolences.”

“Not sure if she is back to work yet. I know she took a few days off when Tracy’s body was first found. Such a darn shame, the whole lot of it.”

I thanked Walter and continued on my way. I hadn’t planned to stop by the library, but if Hope, who I’d actually been friends with as a teen, had been close to the victim, I really did want to stop by to let her know how sorry I was. I remembered how hard it was for everyone when Stella died. It was like the light that shone down on the town went out completely during those first dark days of trying to deal with the reality of what someone had done.

The library was located at the end of a narrow lane off the main street that ran through town. As I climbed the somewhat steep hill leading to the small building as I had so many times before, I remembered the first time I’d been there. Hope was a young and eager woman who’d recently graduated college and started work at the library. Being full of the enthusiasm and energy of youth, she’d started a weekly book club. At the time, I was a high school freshman flunking English. When my teacher offered me a lifeline in the form of extra credit, I jumped at it. As it turned out, the extra credit I’d been offered consisted of joining and participating in Hope’s book club for the rest of the semester. Not only had Hope and her book club helped me to get my grade up to a C, but Hope and the other members helped me to view reading as a pleasurable pastime and not simply the chore I’d always felt it to be.