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A couple more patrons came in during the afternoon. The first was a husband and wife visiting from North Bend, Oregon, as they made a loop through Maine. The husband, a roly-poly man with a genial smile, engaged Brody in conversation while his wife searched for a book. His forehead glistened from sweat and his t-shirt carried the logo for the U.S. Lighthouse Association.
Brody made the mistake of asking the man about the organization. He responded with a ten-minute explanation on the historical importance of lighthouses, their architectural beauty, and how he’d gotten involved with the association. Besides the tower in Pleasant Valley, Brody learned there were sixty-five more lighthouses scattered along the Maine coast, inlets, and islands, which earned it the nickname of The Lighthouse State.
The big man yawned as the husband continued to prattle. He didn’t bother to cover his mouth, hoping the out-of-state man would read his boredom and stop talking. Unfortunately, the customer continued to chatter about lighthouses and the importance of maintaining a link to their storied past.
Brody looked for the wife, hoping that she would have a question about a mystery book that he wouldn’t be able to answer. She was nowhere to be seen, though, so he was stuck listening to the blathering husband.
The lighthouse lesson was so dull, and he felt his eyes crossing. He wanted to yell at the man to shut up, to leave him alone, to walk into the ocean and become shark bait. The old Brody, Beau Smith, would have done just that. No, that’s not true. The bookkeeper for the Satan’s Dawgs would have physically removed this annoying Weeble from the store.
Except he couldn’t do that now. That was against the marshal’s rule of blending in. Therefore he had to accept his current suffering. Brody Steele was a bookstore owner, and bookstore owners had to deal with these types. This was the penance the fates forced him to pay for being a rat, for turning against his crew. Brody had been to prison, and this continued tale of lighthouses was worse than that.
The cat walked out, saw the babbling rotund man, and made a hasty U-turn back into an aisle. Even Travis didn’t want to hear the man.
Please, cat! Knock something over so I can pick it up.
But the tom was now suspiciously careful.
You traitor, Brody thought.
“So that’s what brought us to Pleasant Valley,” the husband said, wrapping up his long-winded monologue. “Now, after my wife picks a book, we’ll move along to visit the various towns up and down the coast.”
“There’s a woman from Alabama doing the same thing.”
The husband’s face brightened. “She’s touring all the lighthouses, too?”
“No,” Brody said with a dismissive snort. “She’s just traveling along the coast. She’s got a day’s head start on you though.”
The husband blinked several times, not understanding what Brody was saying.
“If you hurry, you can catch her.”
“Why would we want to do that?”
Brody shrugged. “Seems more fun than looking at stupid lighthouses.”
The husband’s jowls shook as he started to say something then stopped. Then he started and stopped again. Finally, he turned in a huff and stomped into an aisle. In a moment, he reappeared, leading his wife by the hand through the shop. She glanced at Brody with an apologetic look.
“Enjoy your lighthouse tour,” Brody said to them.
The wife rolled her eyes before following her husband dutifully out of the store.
––––––––
“So, it’s true?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re claiming to be the new ownah of this here place.”
Brody crossed his arms and studied the frail, older man. It was the same gentleman who had sat next to him at the breakfast counter. He wore a short-sleeved yellow shirt, washed-out blue jeans, and gray running shoes. A faded Boston Red Sox hat sat cockeyed on his head.
“I am the new owner,” Brody said.
“No, you’re not. Alice Walkah would nevah have sold this place.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. Herbert Paxton.”
“Herbert?”
“It’s a family name, wiseacre. People call me Herb.”
“I’m Brody,” he said, sticking his hand out.
Herb eyed it with disdain. “Don’t go trying to make friends with me now, boy. I know you’re up to something.”
“I’m not up to anything.”
“Alice Walkah is a decent woman. If you swindled her out of her business, I’ll find out.”
“I didn’t swindle her out of anything.”
“How much did you pay for this place?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Oh, it’s my concern, boy,” Herb said. “It most definitely is my concern.”
Brody raised an eyebrow. “Was she your girlfriend?”
“No,” Herb said defensively.
The big man smiled. “Ah.”
“Don’t ‘ah’ me like you know anything.”
“I know enough to see that you liked her and are worried about her.”
“You’re darn right, I’m worried about her. You stand behind that counter like you own the place—”
“I do own the place.”
“And you ain’t told me where she is.”
“You haven’t asked.”
Herb stopped talking then and glanced around, his brow crumpled as if in thought. Finally, he said, “You know where she is?”
“No.”
“Well, why did you make me think you did?”
“I only said you didn’t ask. Did she ever say anything about seeing a foreigner?”
“What do you mean ‘see a foreignah’? This town gets tourists all year long. She was bound to see foreignahs.”
“I meant, was she dating someone from another country?”
Herb shook his head in bewilderment. “What’s your problem, boy?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Alice wasn’t seeing anyone. She was heartbroken ovah the death of her sweetheart, Gilbert Griffiths.”
“How long ago did he die?”
“I don’t know,” Herb said. “Maybe twenty years.”
“Twenty years? People can get over something in that time.”
The older man smirked. “You Navy boys are really something.”
“Why does that make you mad?”
“Because she’s a lady, and you talk about her like she’s one of those girls who likes to go out with sailors.” He bobbed his head, pleased with his verbal jabs.
Brody remained silent. Herb was clearly agitated about his insinuation that Alice was seeing someone.
“Tell me something,” Herb said, “how did a squid like you supposedly buy this business?”
“I bought it on the Internet.”
“The Internet?”
“It’s a thing they do with computers now.”
“I know what the Internet is, smart aleck. Just because you were a military man, doesn’t mean I need to take any sass from you. I was in the Army, you know?”
Brody bowed apologetically.
Herbert studied him then. His voice softened, and he asked, “You really don’t know where she is?”
“No, but I can ask the company that sold me the business if they know.”
Herb nodded absently. “That would be good.”
“So you and Alice were never boyfriend and girlfriend...”
The older man’s eyes narrowed. “What is with you, boy?”
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“She was a nice woman. You best remember that.”
With that, Herb turned around and surveyed the bookstore for a moment. His shoulders dropped then, and his head slowly lowered before he shuffled toward the door.