The Ruth Valley Missing (4 page)

“How do you take
yours?”

“Black with lots of
sugar, thanks.”

I listened to the
clinking of a spoon hitting the sides of both mugs before Jack turned away from
the counter. He walked up, handed me a mug and pointed to a jacket hanging on
the hook by the door. “It’s a chilly morning. Feel free to grab that if you
like.”

I was cold, but I
wasn’t up for sharing a strange man’s clothes, so I stuck to holding my face
close to the mug. “It’s ok. I’ll warm up on the run back.”

He shrugged. “Suit
yourself. Let’s go have a look at the house.”

Across the yard we
went, and I watched, surprised as he opened the house without unlocking it.

The inside was simple;
a small foyer with a coat closet, then a living room in the front and a kitchen
in the back. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as the sheriff’s house, but was still a
step up from my tiny studio in Brooklyn.

“There’s a small
bedroom right through here,” Jack said as he opened a door off the living room.
“Not much space, I think the last gal used it for storage. The real bedroom is
upstairs.”

I followed him up a
narrow stairway, leading to what looked like the entry to an attic. Before I
could ask, he confirmed my guess.

“Used to be an attic
up here, but when I restored this place, I turned it into something more
useful.”

When we came off the
stairs through the opening, I turned to look around. The wall facing the front
of the house was mostly windows, and on the opposite side at the center of the
slanted walls of the A frame stood a big oak four post bed. There was a
cushioned bench along the window side, and not much else in the room.

“This is nice.”

“Yeah, not much in
here, but it’s cozy I think. Oh, and the bathroom is through the door on that
wall.”

I walked over and
opened the door to find a claw foot tub, a toilet, and a little vanity area. Small,
but everything I needed. Jack continued talking as I made my way around the
room.

“I do all the handyman
work on the property, just easier than paying someone to come do things I can
do myself, so you can yell if you have problems with anything. Rent is due the
1st of every month and there’s room in the barn if you have a car you want to
park. Assuming you want the place, that is.”

I nodded
enthusiastically.

“Great, then. You can
move in as soon as you like.”

“Don’t you want me to
sign something? A lease?”

“Well, I wasn’t
expecting you until this afternoon, and you did catch me when I was supposed to
be heading out, so I don’t have anything for you just yet. Gentleman's
handshake for now, and we can get the paperwork done in the next few days.”

“So, I shake your hand
right now, and you’re not going to turn around and promise this to some other
guy coming to see the place later, right?”

“No one else is coming
to see this place. It’s yours.”

“Emma over at the
diner said you had a guy coming to look. That’s part of why I thought I would
come see the place earlier than I planned.”

“Oh, that guy.” Jack
suppressed a grin. “Yeah, there was someone scheduled to come see the place
this afternoon. James Quinn.”

I scrunched up my
nose. “Oh. I see.”

Jack started to laugh.
“I should have let you sit here and outbid yourself.”

I rolled my eyes, but
smiled. “I would have figured it out eventually.”

He started to head
down the stairs and called up behind him. “Of course you would. Feel free to
stay and check the place out as long as you like. I have to get going.”

“Thanks!” I yelled and
plopped down on the window seat. I watched him walk back up to the house and
looked around. With a few touches, this would make for a nice place. And having
the Sheriff nearby couldn’t hurt.

I took a deep breath,
realizing that this was my new home. At least for a while.

I stumbled into the
B&B, my arms weighed down with bags. I’d spent my entire Saturday morning shopping
for essentials and a few extras; new linens for the bed, towels, and a gorgeous
handmade throw for the couch downstairs. I was hoping to start moving in on
Sunday, and planned out everything I was going to need to make that happen.

“Look at you, hon!
When you asked about shopping this morning, I had no idea you were going to
clean out the town.”

Maria, the innkeeper’s
wife, came over to help me with a few bags. She and I chatted over breakfast
about all the shops in town where I could find what I needed. I managed to find
most of what I wanted with her advice.

“Looks like you spent
a small fortune.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

That was the truth.
While I probably could have driven an hour to a town with a one-stop retail
shop with everything I needed and spent far less, for “boutique” shops, the
stuff wasn’t too expensive.
 

Maria ran her fingers
across a hand knit blanket in one of the bags. “Camille does amazing work,
doesn’t she?”

“She does. I couldn’t
believe everything in that shop was handmade.”

“And not just her. She
features pieces by women in her knitting circle. The ones that are good
enough.”

“Amazing. I have zero
talent when it comes to that sort of thing.”

Maria followed me up
the stairs with a couple of my bags in hand.

“God gives us all
different gifts, sweetie. No use comparing.”

I smiled and set my
bags down as I jiggled the old key in the lock.

“Sorry about the old
key. Most people don’t even bother locking up when they stay here.”

“Old habits die hard.
I keep searching for the deadbolt when I get in.”

Maria laughed hard.
“Deadbolt? I don’t think there is a house in this town that has one.”

I took my bags from
Maria, and slid the ones on the floor into the room.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.
Seems like things are pretty calm here.”

“Oh yes. It’s a very
close community here. Can’t do much here without it being noticed. Keeps
everyone safe.”
 

Once all the bags were
in the room, I closed the door, this time, without locking it.
 

“Heading out?” Maria
stood between me and the stairs, clutching her apron.

“In a few. I still
need to sign papers for the house I’m renting, and get some groceries.”

“Would you like to sit
and have some tea before you go?”

The look on Maria’s
face was a hopeful one. She seemed excited at the prospect of having someone to
sit and chat with over tea. It was a bit chilly outside, so it didn’t seem like
such a bad idea.

“That sounds great.”

I followed her
downstairs and had a seat in the kitschy sitting room, Elvis and Shirley Temple
staring down at me from collectible plates.

“I’m just going to pop
into the kitchen and grab us some tea. Cookies or scones?”

“Scones, please.”

As I waited, I thought
about how smoothly everything was going. Within less than a few days, I’d found
lodging, with a sheriff for a landlord, found most of what I needed in town,
and already spotted several spots that I wanted to explore with my camera. More
than anything, I was starting to feel somewhat relaxed, a feeling I hadn’t had
in, well, years.

“I made Earl Grey.”

Maria walked out with
a little blue and white pot on a tray with a creamer and a pot of sugar cubes.
Next to the sugar were scones, still warm from the oven.

“So you’re renting the
house behind Jack?”

“Yeah. Did I mention
that earlier?”

“No, but word spreads
like fire in this town.”

Word barely spread
through my old apartment building. Even if there was an actual fire.

“So, what’s Jack
like?”

“Oh, he’s a
sweetheart. Takes good care of the town. Everyone adores that man.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup. I mean, we don’t
get much mischief around here, but if there’s even a whiff of it, he has it
taken care of.”

I sipped my tea,
listening, happy to hear my soon to be landlord had such a favorable
reputation. Maria leaned in to grab a scone, looked around as if someone was
listening, then spoke in a hushed voice, “He’s not too bad on the eyes,
either.”

She patted my hand,
her eyebrows raised before grabbing a scone and leaning back in her chair. I
smiled and nibbled on a scone to avoid comment. She was right. He was very
handsome, but that wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on at the moment, so I
changed the subject.

“So, I’ll probably be
checking out tomorrow morning. I was planning on getting myself moved in first
thing.”

“On a Sunday morning?
You’ll miss Mass.”

“Oh.” The sudden
change in Maria’s friendly demeanor, her stiffened posture and pulled-together
brow told me I shouldn’t mention that I hadn’t been to Mass, or any other
church service for that matter, in ages. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Obviously. Mass is at
ten.”

“It’s been a crazy
week. I guess the days just started to blend together.” I let out an awkward
laugh. That, and my agreement to be in church the next day seemed to return her
to her normally cheerful mood.

My Sunday plans were
suddenly much fuller than I had counted on.

I walked into the
church minutes before it was going to start. I was hoping to slide into a back
pew unnoticed and zip out just as quickly when it ended. I had originally
planned out my whole day, including groceries and some more shopping, ending in
the window seat of my new bedroom with a cup of tea and a book. Mass was
putting a significant cramp in those plans.

As I walked in, I was
shocked to see the pews full, including the ones in the back. In all my days of
attending Mass as a child, our church was half full on a good day, and the pews
at the back were even empty for holiday services.

Everyone in town must
be here, I thought. I stood on my toes trying to scope out an empty spot somewhere
close by when I felt a nudge.

I looked over my
shoulder to find Jack standing there. “There’s a spot up there.”

I followed where he
was pointing. There was the empty spot. Three rows from the front. I looked at
Jack and grimaced. He grinned, “You’re lucky. Someone must be sick. And maybe
next week you’ll be on time.”

“I am on time—”

“You won’t be if you
don’t get up to your seat instead of standing here talking to me.”

He was right. The walk
to the front was a long one and I’d be lucky if I had 30 seconds before Mass
began. I turned back to Jack once more with a pout, fighting the temptation to
stomp my foot like a child. He rolled his eyes and leaned in, “Or you can have
my seat over there.”

He pointed to the end of
a pew a few rows from the back. I gave him a grateful smile, and mouthed
‘thanks’ as I stepped quickly over to my seat. I sat down, receiving a few
frowns of disapproval from my fellow pew occupiers. I had obviously forgotten
to do something, but years had erased the order of things from my mind. I
didn’t have much time to think about it before everyone was standing again.
 

And singing.

With so many people, I
figured my voice wouldn’t be missed, so long as I edged away from the woman
next to me and moved my mouth. When the hymn ended and the priest began, I
found myself trying to fake my way through various back and forth. My childhood
memories had betrayed me, as I didn’t remember Mass being so interactive.

I was beginning to get
the rhythm of response, starting to feel slightly less uncomfortable, when I
felt the pew vibrate. And ring.

I shut my eyes and
held my breath, silently cursing whoever was on the other end of the call
trapped in the deep pocket of my skirt. Sitting there, I couldn’t get my hand
far enough in the pocket to shut the phone off. I wouldn’t look up, since I
knew there must be a hundred eyes searching for the source of the sound, and I
could hear that the priest ceased from whatever he was reciting.

I hopped up and headed
for the door, catching a few dirty looks on the way out.

I wrangled the phone
from my pocket as I was halfway down the steps and was at the bottom as I
answered the call.

“Jameson, where are
you?”

It was Dylan’s voice. Now
I was cursing myself for rushing to answer without seeing who it was.

“What?”

“Where are you? I’m
standing in front of your door. You’re always home on Sunday morning.”

“I don’t live there
anymore.”

“What?! Don’t you
think that’s something you should’ve told me?”

“Not particularly.”