Hemlock Veils

Elizabeth only looked at her.

“You’re thinking of staying, aren’t you?” She barely gave Elizabeth time to nod. “Not that I’m opposed to the idea, but why?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it, but…” Through the waterfall, street lights reflected off the silver sidewalk, pockmarked with a thousand raindrops. “I feel pulled here. It feels like…home.”

Regina studied her eyes. “You ain’t got family to go back to?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“Is that true what Mr. Clayton said about your father and brother yesterday?”

“Yes.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.” She freed her hand from her pocket to rub Elizabeth’s shoulder. “My condolences.”

“Thank you. I’ve just never had a place I could call my own, since I was always taking care of them. And not that I regret it or wish it didn’t happen that way, I just…This is the first place I’ve been that feels like…me.” She looked to her feet, shrugging into her jacket. It was almost cold enough to see her breath. “I know, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Makes perfect sense,” Regina countered, in a voice so soft Elizabeth wasn’t sure it was hers. “You make it happen then. If this place feels as special to you as it does to most us folks, then you make it your home.”

Elizabeth’s heart warmed, but she smiled only briefly since she knew what would follow.

“What would you do out here, get a job with Doc Ortiz? I’m sure he’d be happy to give you an interview.”

“Actually, I was thinking something else.” She took a deep breath. “This is where I need an okay from you, because I would never do something that would jeopardize the livelihood of anyone in this town, especially you. So, unless I have your permission…”

“What is it?”

“When I worked for Frank Vanderzee, the man Mr. Clayton mentioned, my favorite part of the job was utilizing his kitchen. I cooked mostly, but what I really loved was baking. I was good, Regina. Even Mr. Vanderzee, who never gave his approval of anything, loved it. But there was one thing above that, one thing I mastered to perfection.”

Regina gave a hopeful, teasing smile. “Coffee?”

When Elizabeth nodded, Regina displayed a look of pleasant shock. “Really, it’s the only accomplishment I pride myself on, as small as it is—even more than my decent baking. I can say it’s perfect because I spent so many hours, and so much of Mr. Vanderzee’s money, on getting it that way. It wasn’t until afterward I realized how much I loved the process. Ever since then, it’s always been my dream to own a little coffeehouse or bakery of some sort. And what better place to do that?”

She had half-expected competition in Regina’s eyes, but instead they widened with enlightenment. “I know just the place,” she said, grabbing Elizabeth’s arm with her free hand.

“Regina…”

“The little empty place near Henry Street hasn’t been used in years.”

“You wouldn’t be offended? Or feel like I was trying to steal your business?”

“Please. Everyone’s been hating this coffee for years. It’s about time something better came along. The coffee isn’t what keeps the diner alive; it’s the food. So the diner’ll do just fine. Besides, I’ve been waiting for someone or something to change up this town, and I can’t say enough that this is like a breath of fresh air.” She paused, frowning. “Only thing is…Mr. Clayton owns that row of old shops.”

A doom settled over Elizabeth, even though she shouldn’t have been surprised. If it was up to him, her dream would always be just that: a dream.

Regina, however, cheered. “But you know what? Mr. Clayton hates that coffee more than anyone else. I can see it in his eyes. We’ll just have to prove to him why it would be beneficial to let you take over.”

She laughed and next thing she knew they were hugging, and Regina’s poufy black hair smelled of Newports and the coffee she hated. “So glad you decided to stay,” she said, her voice muffled by Elizabeth’s shoulder. Her hand did a mix of a pat and a rub on Elizabeth’s back before she pulled away. “So did you have anywhere in mind? I’ve got an extra room that hasn’t been used in twelve years.”

Elizabeth made a mental note to ask her about that at a later time. “Actually, there was somewhere that caught my eye.”

“Oh?”

“The tiny place on Alder.”

Regina’s eyes hardened into reproving stone. “Nu-uh. No way, Beth.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The forest, that’s what. You know why that place’s been vacant for so long? ’Cause that’s where the monster spends most its time. That’s where it’s been seen the most, where most encounters take place. It don’t like people being there.”

“Look, Regina, if I can’t get that house, then I can’t. But…”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never seen anything so charming. And the forest is what I love most about it. That’s what draws me here.” A chuckle shook Regina’s chest. This confused Elizabeth. “What’s so fu

“Not fu

Elizabeth’s heart shriveled enough to sicken her. “Let me guess: he owns that, too.”

Chapter 10

Henry drew brisk morning air into his lungs while his dress shoes moved over the wet gravel trail. The rain had stopped sometime in the night, but the gray dawn sky alluded to future storms. Fog settled low on the ground, hemlocks and alders appearing Heaven-grown. They came to life with birds, reminding him that nature knew no discouragement. Terror lurked here at night, along with rainfall, yet the birds sang when morning came.

Last night, a different terror had lurked here, one familiar even in its novelty. The forest had adopted the air of a stranger, rather than that of a friend, and though it had been fleeting, it was enough to keep him careful.

When he reached his gate, tapping the numeric password into the panel with mindless speed—he decided he would take his walk to the diner slowly. On some days, he valued his morning walks more than most things. Rain or shine, he walked, taking in the town with a refreshing point of view only sunlight could provide. It looked different during the day, even hopeful. And regardless of so many years in the same place, he never tired of the view. From the time he was a boy, when his father used to bring him and his mother here during the summer, the forest had felt like his own. It was breathtaking and awe-inspiring, and when it came down to it, it was simply home.

But today his steps were heavier, and so was his chest. The woman had stayed through the night, despite her recently repaired vehicle. Was she to blame for the new terror last night, too? He closed the gate and entered the lock code, waiting until it clicked and the light glowed red. When he turned, however, he stopped short. The woman herself walked toward him. She wore a wool jacket over a turtleneck and emerged from the fog like a dream. Or rather, a nightmare. She folded her arms, appearing nervous. The brave Ms. Ashton.

“Mr. Clayton, I was wondering if I may have a word with you,” she said when before him.

He stepped around her and resumed a quickened pace. So much for a slow, cathartic walk. “My time is precious, Ms. Ashton.”

He felt her following. Her voice was softer than the last time they’d spoken, less defensive. “I thought this would be the best time to catch you, and…” He picked up speed. “May I walk with you? It won’t take much time.”

He released a breath. “Assholes like to walk alone.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clayton,” she said with the release of her own breath. The desperation in her voice made him pause. “I’m sorry about what I said to you before…what I called you.”

He turned, caught off guard. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Sometimes my mouth gets away from me, and I’m…” She met them now. “Well, I’m just sorry.”

“You’re apologizing to me?”

She nodded as though puzzled.