Winnie's Web Page 3

  It was nice to see a friendly smile. Maybe that was the real reason I had come here. I was not used to being shunned.

  “May I speak with you a moment, Sam?”

  “Hold down the fort, Dan,” he said to his deputy as he escorted me into the back room. “Don’t have any information on the skeleton, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

  “No, I realize it takes time. Have you delivered the package yet?”

  “Just fixin’ to do that as soon as the poker boys leave. Didn’t want them asking a lot of questions.”

  “Right.”

  “Do you think it’s leaked out—about finding the bones on my property.”

  He thought for a minute then shook his head. “Can’t think how. Except that ever since we came back to the office yesterday, Myrtle Ormsby has been peering out the post office window even more than usual. Why, did someone say something to you?”

  “No, actually they said nothing.” I explained about the unfriendliness that I had encountered at both the market and the pub.

  “Try the Flower of Scotland,” was his reply.

  “But why would they be—”

  “That’s just Eleanor and Daisy. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But there was a couple at the bar who weren’t any friendlier than they were.” I felt like a little girl in primary school, telling the teacher on my classmates.

  “Probably friends of theirs.”

  “I think her name was Marilyn something or other.”

  “Yep. Friends of theirs. The Burrows own the local beauty parlor.” Of course they did.

  “But why would they put off customers?”

  “Just their way.”

  But was it? “They knew who I was, Sam.”

  “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “Nothin’. Just some of the folks on the island who have been here most of their lives, don’t take kindly to newcomers.”

  I nodded slowly and hoped he was telling me the truth. But something told me it wasn’t the whole truth.

  “How did they know who I was?”

  “Heard you were coming no doubt.”

  He was trying hard, Sam was. I accepted his explanations—for now.

  Still craving fish and chips, I went in search of the Flower of Scotland. I stepped into the pub and waited for a moment. It was definitely my kind of pub. More customers. The murmur of friendly chatter. Cozy but lighter than the Crown and Anchor. As I scanned the room, my heart warmed. It was a Scottish pub after all. A painting of the Edinburgh Castle and another of a Highland cow caught my eye. Photographs of a Scottish soccer team were prominent. Inverness Caledonian Football Club, if I wasn’t mistaken. Some rugby teams as well. A dart board beside the bar and even a fireplace. And no nasty glares. I was looking forward to meeting the owners.

  I took off my sweater and chose a seat by the fire which I was happy to see was lit, even in the summer. But with a chill in the air, it felt more like fall. Or maybe I’d brought that chill with me from the Crown and Anchor.

  I noticed that the same elderly gentleman who had abandoned the other pub, was seated at the bar of this one. He seemed to notice me too, offering a smile and what appeared to be a wink, but hard to tell at a distance. I considered joining him at the bar but after witnessing the scene with the couple at the Crown and Anchor, I couldn’t be sure he would want company. Safer to stay where I was.

  Before I could pull out the menu on the table, the bartender had made her way around the bar and was standing beside me. “You must be Winnie’s girl. Jenny?”

  “Yes, I am.” She wasn’t going to ask me to leave, was she?

  “Well, welcome to the island, dear. I’m Penelope Heggie. Friends call me Pen.” She didn’t just reach out a hand to shake mine. She sat down at my table. I was beginning to think I’d walked into the Twilight Zone on this island of contrasting inhabitants.

  “When did you arrive?” Pen asked.

  “Just yesterday.”

  “Well if you need any help unpacking, let us know. Or if anything needs fixing around the place. My Mickey is very handy. Of course, he was out there not long ago, fixing everything for your aunt.” She sighed. “We miss her, you know.”

  “Yes.”

  “But we’re very happy you’ve decided to make this your home.”

  I was beginning to feel better about that decision myself.

  “Now what can I get you, luv?” she said with her proper English accent. Why a Scottish pub? Mickey must be Scottish, I decided.

  I didn’t look at the menu. “A Belhaven and fish and chips?”

  “Coming right up. You relax by the fire now.” She patted my hand and headed to the kitchen.

  I leaned back in my chair and took her advice. Island life was looking pretty good right now. Although after finishing my meal, and passing the Crown and Anchor and the market on my way back to my car, I had to wonder what it was my Aunt Winnie had failed to tell me about this island. And why.

  * * *

  Sasha’s cottage was scarcely more than a room, a room that was more an artist’s studio than living quarters. Two easels stood center stage, the focal point of the room. If you looked hard, you could find one over-stuffed chair and a rocker in the corner. A small black table with four eclectic chairs was the defining line between kitchen and living room. There was a separate bedroom, just big enough for a double bed and a small dresser.

  She took me on a tour of her art work, which was as complex as she was. From dark and quiet to bright and vibrant.

  “Okay, I’m not going to be subtle here,” I told her over a cup of jasmine tea. “What did my aunt not tell me about this island?”

  She wrinkled her eyebrows and shook her head.

  “I went into the market on the south end, and one of the pubs, and got the cold shoulder in both places.”

  “The Crown and Anchor?”

  “Right. Have you been there?”

  “Once. About a year ago when I first moved here. They weren’t very friendly.”

  “You too? Do you think they don’t like newcomers to the island?”

  “Very possible. I just never went back. The Flower of Scotland is much nicer. Pen is great and so are her fish and chips. She uses fresh cod.”

  “And the market?”

  “I rarely go there. Usually go to the north end for produce. Get the staples off the island.”

  “And in a pinch?”

  She grinned. “I would go to Winnie’s.”

  “Did Winnie tell you why they’re so unfriendly?”

  Sasha did not answer quickly. “Not why, just that they would be. I guess I’m not as curious as you are.”

  I laughed. It came with the job. “I suppose if I hadn’t encountered it from two places in the same day, I wouldn’t be suspicious. Any other places I should avoid?”

  Sasha fluffed her thick red hair away from her neck. “The beauty parlor?”

  “I’ll remember that. At first I figured they’d heard about the bones and that was why they were acting oddly. Oh, brother, if that’s how they acted when they haven’t heard about the bones, imagine how they’ll act once they have. And it’s only a matter of time before they do. Apparently Myrtle Ormsby has been watching their every move.”

  “If there’s any unusual activity around the sheriff’s office, Sadie Applebaum is sure to notice as well.”

  “Sadie Applebaum?”

  “DMV. Next door to the post office.”

  I took a long sip of my tea now that it was cool enough to drink. “So, I guess it’s a question of how fast news travels in this town.”

  “And that all depends on whether or not Seth hears the news.”

  “Seth?”

  “Newspaper.”

  “There’s a newspaper on this little island?”

  “Oh yeah. It’s delivered to six of the islands.”

  Suddenly I had an image of people coming from six different islands, some by ferry, some by row boat, some by kayak, all circling my
property, lining up to get a glimpse of the famous rose garden.

  “Might want to get going on that koi pond right away,” Sasha said. I wondered if the same picture had flashed through her mind.

  “I’ll give Frankie a call right now to see if she’s free tomorrow. Know where I can get some giant koi?”

  “Not on Anamcara.”

  “No problem.” I’d only been here a day and a half, but a trip off the island sounded pretty good right now.

  Sasha looked up at the sound of a delivery truck. “Mail?” I asked.

  “Newspaper.”

  I walked with her to the road where she picked up her local paper. I knew what the headlines were before she opened it. Intuition? Maybe. Or pure dread.

  “Skeleton found on Wainwright property.”

  “Wonderful,” I said.

  “Sorry,” Sasha said.

  “But how? So soon?”

  “Seth’s good. If there’s something to be known, he knows it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Sasha loaned me her newspaper which I took home to read. Fortunately no one was speculating on whose body it was, and if they were, the newspaper wasn’t reporting it. Only the facts were present. Skeleton of human body was found. No tissue. Bones delivered to forensic anthropologist. That kind of thing. And of course where they were found.

  I tossed it aside and finished unpacking my boxes that the movers had delivered. There was plenty of space in Winnie’s armoires for my photographs and books. Sasha and my mother and I had cleaned them out after Winnie had died back in May. Actually there was little to do. She had given away many of her belongings in expectation of her passing. She had left me her photographs, art work, and other personal items.

  In the center of the fireplace mantel, sat the urn containing Winnie’s ashes. They would remain there until I knew where to scatter them and when.

  Sasha had brought over some firewood while I was in town which would hold me over until my delivery came. With the help of a starter log she had also left me, and after several attempts, I built myself a lovely fire. It was not something I had to do when I lived in Seattle. I had left that to Joe and his male pride.

  I moved the coffee table aside which allowed me enough space to do a few of my yoga stretches. It was time to stop dwelling on dead bodies and get back to breathing in life.

  Then I settled in with a cup of tea, a muffin and one of Winnie’s old photograph albums. It was one of her more recent ones. Most of the pictures were of me and Bryn and Cameron growing up. Not too many of Charlotte, but my big sister had never liked coming to the island.

  When I finished going through the album, I scanned the others and realized there were none of Winnie’s youth or even her days as a young woman which seemed rather odd.

  A chill ran down my back at the same time as my third chakra started vibrating noticeably, giving me even more cause for concern. “Wait a minute,” I said out loud. I definitely needed a dog. Talking to myself was not a trait I embraced. I put away the albums and ran upstairs to Winnie’s bedroom. I swung open her closet door which hid a staircase to the attic.

  I hadn’t been up those stairs since I was a little girl. As soon as I entered the narrow, musty space, my childhood memories came flooding back. I followed the lavender-flowered wallpaper as it made its way up the stairs and around the attic walls. Every corner appeared to remain intact.

  Winnie used to bring us here on our visits and share with us, all the treasures of her youth. Antique dolls, wooden toys, a lovely old train—Cam’s favorite—and lace dresses and hats. Bryn and I would dress up—very carefully—while Cam pushed an engine with several cars and a grand caboose around the tracks.

  It was like taking a trip down memory lane, opening the chests in the attic and finding her childhood toys and the gowns of her youth. Despite the dust and enclosed quarters, I did not want to leave the attic. If only for a brief moment, I felt as if I had come home. And I felt as though my wonderful great aunt was here with me.

  When I found a hat box filled with letters, I carried it downstairs to the living room to read by the firelight. If I was lucky, it might be a living history of my aunt’s life. There were a few short notes, from artist friends, thanking her for her invitation to come visit.

  Dear Winnie,

  Thank you so much for your kind invitation to spend a summer with you on your idyllic island. As much as I would love to come paint with you, I must work here this summer. I do need to earn my keep after all. But perhaps another time.

  I miss you so, my dear friend.

  Love,Beth

  Dear dear Winnie,

  The kindest and most generous of all our friends. How we would love to visit with you and spend time painting together. We are saving up now for the journey and should have enough to come visit for a month, perhaps longer. After hearing your description of your island home, we are even contemplating moving there! We will write you as soon as we have a date.

  We are both very excited and miss you terribly.

  Love from your friends,

  Rachel and Michael

  Next I chose a blue letter that appeared to be longer. The postmark was old and faded but I could make out the year. Nineteen forty nine. Over fifty years ago. This letter was ten years older than I was.

  My dearest Winnie,

  I was so pleased to receive your letter. I know it has only been a year since your last visit, but it feels as if it has been a lifetime. A lifetime of regrets.

  Oh dear, I am sounding melodramatic, am I not? It is not so dismal as I make it sound. I am fine. But I do think of those lovely days when we were young and naive, playing together with my Annie Jo with her silky black braids and your freckle-faced Jane Louise with the stuffing oozing out of her neck and Nellie’s even more ragged Mary Elizabeth. And later, our innocent flirtatious days. Or was it years? Oh, my.

  What wonderful times they were. But they are gone now. It is time to move on with my life, is it not? I just do not think I can go through with it. I am so young. Well, no, not so young at twenty-two, but I feel like a child somehow. And how can I marry a man whom I do not love. If I have learned anything from my wise and dearest friend, it is that I must not do anything with which my heart disagrees. Is that not what you taught me?

  And so I must take this as a sign, having received your letter just in time to stop me. But how did you know? Did Nellie tell you when you saw her in Seattle? I know she told you of my impending marriage which you mentioned in your letter, but did she tell you that I do not love him? Or did you know somehow, as you always seem to know?

  I truly believe that your letter arrived in order to prevent me from making a mistake that I would regret forever. But what shall I do? Oh, dearest friend, please advise me. I know I have resisted your advice in the past, much as I would were you my big sister, but I shall not now. I need you now, Winnie.

  My mother will be furious when I tell her. My father— I do not even wish to think what he shall do. They had believed this to be the perfect match. Money of course, being the most important ingredient for an excellent marriage. Never mind love.

  Am I not a coward? I believe I have made my decision. Perhaps I made it the day your letter arrived but I have not told them. Nor have I told my fiancé whom I no longer think of as my fiancé.

  Yes, I am a coward. I rationalize by telling myself it is a full month until the wedding. I still have time. But oh, please write immediately and advise me. I need you, dearest Winnie.

  I miss you. I have missed you so.

  Love,

  Maggie

  Chills ran up and down my spine. I felt as though I had stepped back in time, into another person’s life. An invasion of privacy. Yet the chances were that this woman had passed on, as had my aunt. She was, after all, my aunt’s best friend, or at least my aunt was hers.

  So why did the energy emanating from this letter feel so strong, as though it had been written only yesterday?

  Chapter 4<
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  I spent most of the following day off the island. It was a relief to be on Gael Island where no one knew me and no one cared who I was.

  I began with the gas station—slightly cheaper than the one on Anamcara Island—next, the pet shop to make sure they had some very large koi. Then I spent a couple hours at the local library. There was only a tiny library on Anamcara, which could all but fit into my cottage living room.

  There was no reason for me to be at the library. It just happened to be one of my favorite things to do. Of course, it had to be the right library. Old and with windows, wooden windows, tall and majestic wooden windows. The library in Seattle met those requirements. So did the one in Port Townsend. This library reminded me of that one, only smaller and slightly newer. But it had grand wood windows that looked out over the water.

  I sat on a bench, not reading, just sitting and gazing out at the harbor view. Then I found a couple books worth checking out. Just as I was about to leave the library behind, I found myself walking up the stairs to the second floor and the history room. It was one of those odd moments when I had no idea what I was doing or why. But I knew it was important to do it.

  I pulled a phone book from 1953 off the shelf, sat down and read it. Not cover to cover, but rather scanning, here and there. The shoe stores are always fun. There are brands and pictures of shoes that don’t even exist now. After a few minutes, I put the 1953 phone book back on the shelf. As I was leaving the history room, another phone book caught my eye. Nineteen forty nine. The same year Maggie had written to Winnie. Chills running down my back, I reached up and pulled it from the shelf and gently turned the pages. Now I really felt as though I had stepped back in time, for more than a moment.

  Electrical appliances: Hotpoint, Westinghouse, General Electric, Zenith. The Village Book Shop. On Brighton Way, on Anamcara. Hopefully it was still there. Musical merchandise: Baldwin and Kimball pianos; RCA, Philco, and Motorola Radios; and refrigerators. Were they considered musical merchandise because they hum?

  The phone numbers were four digits long. When did they jump to seven? There was only one plumber who covered three islands and did everything from furnaces and sheet metal work to Jacuzzi pumps. One newspaper which was also the only local printer, Herald Printers and Publishers. They did printing, lithography, and publishing. Island Paint and Wallpaper. I smiled at the picture of the Dutch Boy Paint ad. Island Stationary: office machines, typewriters, adding and bookkeeping machines.