Page 84 of A Curse On Black Lake
Leading the way to the nails and screws, I stop at the screws I need and throw a handful in a bag. I grab a box of roofing nails for the shingled roof I’ll install too. Eliana comes up behind me with a basket, and I drop it in.
Bill Reed, a farmer, glares at me as we leave the aisle towards the lumber desk to get what I need. I give him a deadpan stare and keep walking, checking behind me to make sure Eliana is there.
She’s glaring at Clive, who owns the bakery, and I grab the basket and her hand, pulling her with me. The last thing we need is to piss anyone off. It feels like we’re sitting on a powder keg, and it’s about to blow.
The lumber desk is empty, so I ding the bell, waiting for one of the high school boys to come up. That’s usually who they have working here.
Charley Dickens hurries to the counter and taps the screen of the old computer. When he looks up, his eyes widen in fear as he looks betweenus. He stares a little too long at Eliana, and I clear my throat. He’s a kid, and he’s listening to what the adults are telling him.
“Hey Charley, this is what I need from the lumberyard,” I tell him, sliding my list across the table.
His shaking hand takes the paper, and he enters it into the old computer before printing it out and handing me the yard receipt. “Thanks, Charley, have a good day,” I tell him and force a smile.
Charley takes a step away from the desk and dips his chin stiffly.
With my hand at the small of Eliana’s back, I urge her forward, down another hall with paint. She pauses for a moment, looking at the paint chips, then keeps walking. “Wait, do you want to paint it?” I ask her.
“No, I was thinking of my room at home,” she says.
“What about your room at my house?” I ask her.
“It’s not my room though,” she says.
I grin. “Pick a color, little witch.”
Her eyes widen, and a smile grows on her face. “You’re pushing it by calling me that in public,” she says.
I chuckle and bump her with my shoulder. “I’m an outlaw, darlin’, I don’t know what you expected.”
She nibbles on her lower lip and rolls her eyes before plucking out a few paint chips.
“Which one?” she asks.
I look at them, and they are all green, and look virtually identical. “Um … green.”
She giggles. “They’re different greens.”
“What green do you like?” I ask her.
She considered each of them, tilting her head and pursing those pretty lips.
I point to the one on the right. It complements her eyes.
“I like that one too,” she says and puts the other paint chips back.
We go to the paint desk, and Helen, an older woman, hardly blinks at us as she gets a gallon of green paint ready.
Aftergatheringpaint supplies,we head to the checkout, and the stares are getting more blatant. It’s time to go. I spot Caroline and her daughter Lucille, pointing at Eliana. A flash of anger rolls through me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder protectively.
She looks up at me, blinking furiously. I can’t tell if the Spirits were talking to her, or she’s trying to keep from crying. “Ignore them,” she says thickly.
I drop the basket of supplies on the old counter.
Old Man Winters glares between us, but I don’t know if it’s because of gossip, or his normal face. He’s usually just a grump.
He scans everything and stares at me, waiting for me to pay. Eliana pulls a couple of twenties out of her pocket, and I push her hand away before handing over a hundred-dollar bill to the old man.
He grumbles and hands me my change.
