Page 95 of Patio Lanterns

“What now?” she asked the officers. “Do I need to sign something? Identify the body? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

“The morgue will contact you about arrangements,” Hayward explained.

Robin looked to Rick, blurred by the tears pooling in her eyes. “What about the store? Crawley’s has been around forever. Lake Whippoorwill needs that place. We still need Mrs. C.”

“I’m not sure what’ll happen to it now,” he said quietly.

“I think I should go down there,” she said, scrambling to her feet.

“In the morning,” Rick told her. “It’s late. We’ll go over there first thing.”

“Rob, we’ll go to the store with you too,” Dove said. “Won’t we Lark?”

Lark nodded, as she and Robin exchanged a long, tearful look. “Count me in.”

31

Robin

Sorry, we’re closed.

The sign hung in the front window. A sad reminder that Lake Whippoorwill would soon wake up to the news that it was without its beloved general store. Without its beloved general store proprietor.

Robin unlocked the door and led the way for the contingent of supporters that followed her inside—Rick, Dove, and Lark, carrying a sleeping Nova on her shoulder. Even Mutt Lange tagged along, immediately picking up on the scent that led him on a detour to the dog food aisle.

She flicked on the lights, and the overhead fluorescents kicked on like illuminated dominos reaching to the back of the store. It was eerily quiet and gloomily empty knowing that while everything appeared exactly as it had the day before, the place would never be the same.

Rick put his arm around Robin and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”

“I guess I never realized how much this store meant to me.” Her eyes stung with tears that had yet to fall. “Now I look around, and all I see are memories of summertimes past.”

Robin wandered down the aisle of canned goods and instant foods. It was a strange feeling now that Mrs. C was gone. Time had stopped in the store, as if the shelves were lined with preserved artifacts in a museum display.

“I feel awful that we called her Creepy Crawley,” Dove said. “She was a nice old lady. Scary, but nice.”

“By the way, she knew all along about us kids thinking she was a witch, and it didn’t seem to bother her.” The thought made Robin smile.

Stirred by nostalgia, she continued on a pilgrimage to make sense of what had happened, revisiting the past, mourning what little she’d come to know about Mrs. C. The police hadn’t indicated where she died or had been found, leaving Robin to wonder if she had expired there in the store, like inventory past its best before date.

Nah, it had probably happened at home. But where was home for Mrs. C? Did anyone know? Robin had only worked up to asking her first name, leaving the mystery of where she lived to join the hundreds of unanswered questions swimming around in her head.

“I always loved the look of this old brass cash register,” Lark said at the counter. “Can’t believe she still used it.”

Robin smiled. “I told her she should swap it out for a POS system. But she just stared at me like there was a branch growing out of my head.”

“You know, I really thought you were just putting me on about working here.”

“It’s true,” she said. “I bartered a job with Mrs. C to pay for Mom’s party.”

“Wow, Rob, I’m impressed,” Dove told her.

Robin shrugged. “I told you guys I was going to find a way to do it.”

“I have to admit, I really underestimated you,” Lark said.

“Nah, you had every reason to have your doubts. Truthfully, the reason the delivery truck never showed up was because I wrote the wrong date on my order form.” She sighed. “So, all the party lights and pigs in a blanket I ordered for yesterday’s party should be arriving on a five-tonne truck later today.”

“Ahem,” Rick cleared his throat. “On-time delivery or not, the evening was a huge success.”

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