Page 113 of Here & There

I love it here in Redbeard, but can I picture living here?

My heart clenches when I think of leaving. But thinking of staying feels strange too. Everything about my time here feels a bit divided. My time spent doing the job I promised Mac and searching out Shelby. My love of the small-town feel and gorgeous scenery, but my missing parts of the big city too. WhenI think about it, it’s kind of like the town of Redbeard: old and new. Here and there.

The elderly woman behind the counter looks far less witchy than the person outside. This one has a tight gray bun, smooth brown skin, and glasses at the end of her nose.

“Morning,” she says, not looking up from her novel, which, when I get up close, I see is a historical romance novel—a man wearing nothing but a kilt stands with one leg up on the edge of a cliff lined with heather, his hair blowing majestically in the wind.Mo Cridhe,the title says.

Looks like Lana might have a built-in fan if she ever decides to try to get published.

“Is that one good?” I ask conversationally.

The librarian, whose name tag reads Bea, because of course her name is Bea, lowers the book. “Depends on what you can handle, dear.”

I bite my lips to keep from laughing. “Sounds amazing.”

She hands it over. “Enjoy.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s fine. I’ve read it twice. You’ll be needing a library card, I suppose?”

“Um, yes,” I say, a bit unnerved but not surprised to know I clearly look like an out-of-towner. “But I’m also here looking for some information. On a person.”

The librarian lifts a well-penciled eyebrow. “Is this person alive or dead?”

“I very much hope she’s still alive.”

Bea looks alarmed. “Are they missing?”

“No. Well, maybe. I don’t actually know.”

“For missing persons, we should call my daughter Winnifred. She’s the Chief of Police.” She says this with a solid note of pride.

I smile. “Oh, it’s not like that. But also, I should have caught the resemblance to Freddie. You have the same eyes.”

Bea tsks. “I suppose that’s what most people call her. But yes, she told me all about your little escapade down at Business Island.”

My cheeks suddenly feel like roasted marshmallows. I think I might always be known as the girl who jumped in the water fully clothed. Another thing I miss about the city: fewer opportunities to be permanently branded. But I suddenly remember Chris’s words the first day we met. “I guess if that’s how I’m going to be known around town, I might as well own it, right?”

Bea doesn’t look convinced.

I clear my throat, deciding to cut my losses. “Well, do you think you might be able to help me look up this person? See if there are any news articles or anything about her? I haven’t had any luck searching online.”

We get down to business. Bea helps me look up Shelby Jessica Fox using alternate spellings. But just like my own Googling, her searches come up with those same names I found before, plus she finds one more in Australia. But here in BC? Nada.

My shoulders sink.

“I’m sorry, dear. You could try the archives next door, although I’ve already searched their online database.”

“Right.”

Was Mom lying? Did Shelby never live here? Were they just passing through when that picture was taken?

“This woman special to you?” Bea asks softly. That’s when I realize my eyes are wet.

I swipe at my face. “Sorry. This is embarrassing. She’s my grandmother. She lived here at one time, after she and my mother had a falling out.”

“Do you know anything else about her that might give some clues as to where she lived? Did she work? Do you know the type of house she lived in? Was it on the beach or in the mountains?”

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