The view from the kitchen had been that of the woodlot, but this room faced the actual forest. She recalled the footprints—both human and canine—that she’d found the other day and searched the murky darkness for any sign of life. The moonlight was dimmer now than it had been when Ryne had walked her to her car; no doubt clouds were starting to roll in as the forecast had called for rain. Still, as her eyes adjusted, she could just make out the shadowy shapes of tree trunks and a few low slung bushes.
For a moment, she thought she detected something moving. It was just a sense of the shadows shifting near the base of a tree, and maybe a glint of something shining, but then it was gone. For long moments, she waited and stared, but saw nothing. With a sigh, she let the curtain fall back into place. It was just her imagination, thank heavens. There was nothing dangerous out there, at least not to her. Probably the little rabbits and squirrels that were regularly prey had a different perspective, but she had nothing to be concerned about.
Ignoring the little niggling worry in the back of her mind, Mel climbed into bed, wiggling around until she found a comfortable spot. With determination, she closed her eyes and began reciting several soliloquies from Shakespeare that she’d had to learn in school. As usual, she only made it partway through Hamlet’s ‘To be or not to be’ before sleep overtook her.
*****
Mel spent the next few days in what she dubbed ‘interview limbo’ while waiting for Ryne to make his final decision. It irked her to wait, but she sensed this was some sort of test. If she pushed too hard, he’d refuse, just to put her in her place. And so, with unaccustomed patience, she waited.
Her days fell into a lazy pattern. She’d sleep in, drive to town, and spend the morning at the Gazette where Josh and Beth were allowing her to hook up her laptop to their internet connection. The hoped-for phone line connection at the cabin had yet to materialize and Mel strongly suspected the phone company just didn’t want to be bothered travelling all the way to Stump River for one service call. Still, the absence of a phone at the cabin had one benefit; Aldrich couldn’t contact her.
Phoning the lawyer was the part of the day she most dreaded. Around noon, she’d leave the Gazette’s offices and walk around Stump River—which didn’t take long, but helped fill up her day—and then head to the diner to place the dreaded call to Aldrich.
The calls followed a predictable path. He’d ask about her progress, she’d report she was still waiting, the lawyer would make some condescending comment, and the conversation would be over. It was barely five minutes, but felt much longer and left her feeling deflated.
In happy contrast, once she’d done her duty, she rewarded herself by having coffee and conversation with Ruth, Al, and Lucy.
A running joke had developed between them. Everyday she’d ask for a different type of coffee and they’d hand her a cup of plain black. Purposely, she made her requests more outlandish each day, enjoying their expressions as she explained the intricacies of each variety. Today’s lesson was on one of her favourites, a caramel macchiato venti.
“So you see Al, then you take freshly steamed milk, vanilla-flavored syrup, a double shot of espresso and top it with caramel sauce. Oh, and of course the key is to slowly pour in the milk to create layers of different coloured liquid.”
The chef rubbed his stubbly chin and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Right.” As per usual, he was leaning against the counter, his slightly stained apron stretched over his rounded stomach. He reached back and flipped on the coffee maker. “One black coffee, coming up.”
Mel giggled, loving his deadpan expression.
Ruth just shook her head, taking a cup down off the shelf and placing it beside the brewing beverage, ready for filling when the time came. “It beats me that you city folk have nothing better to do than to spend your time finding ways to mess up a perfectly good cup of java.”
“Ah, Ruth,” Mel teased. “You haven’t lived until you experience drinking coffee properly prepared by a barista.”
Straightening her uniform on her boney frame, Ruth sniffed, but patted Mel’s shoulder. “I’ll survive just fine, girly, don’t you worry. The men on my soap operas give me a better jolt than caffeine any day.”
Lucy wandered over just then, and Mel settled into her favourite seat for a bit of gossip with the friendly waitress, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Miller’s service station in case Ryne should emerge. He did occasionally, to fill gas tanks, wash wind shields and check oil, but never to come across the street and agree to an interview.
Mel was positive Ryne knew she was there. A couple of times, she even thought she caught him glancing her way, but he always went back inside, leaving her fuming and irritably drumming her fingers on the countertop.