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Authors: Cindy Myers

BOOK: The View From Here
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Barb emerged from the shower pink faced and dewy, her hair swathed in a bath towel turban, her body wrapped in a too-short terry robe. “Where's Jameso?” she asked, looking around.
“He had to leave,” Maggie said. If he hadn't, they both might have said—or done—things they'd later regret. “He brought you these.” She handed Barb the sunglasses.
“The darling man.” Barb donned the glasses. “I couldn't imagine where I'd left them.”
“He said to tell you he turned in the moving van.”
“I knew I could depend on him.”
“You knew no such thing,” Maggie said. “You only met him yesterday.”
“I have good instincts.” She sat at the table, sunglasses still in place. “What else did Jameso have to say?”
“He said the mine is dangerous and we were idiots to go in there.”
Barb pursed her lips. “He didn't really say we were idiots, did he?”
“No, but it was implied.”
“He was just upset because you scared him.”
“Why should anything I do affect him one way or another? I'm certainly not losing sleep over him.”
“No? Too bad.” She removed the sunglasses and gave Maggie a long look. “Did you show him the stones we found in the mine?”
“No.”
“Why not? He might have known what they were.”
Maggie busied herself lining up the salt and pepper shakers, avoiding Barb's gaze. “There wasn't a good opportunity. And I don't think we should tell anyone yet. I don't want a bunch of people like Bob up here trying to check things out for themselves.”
“If you asked Jameso to keep a secret, I'm sure he would.”
Maggie started to object that Barb didn't know any such thing, but why waste her breath? “After I get cleaned up, let's go into town. We can stop by the library and see if we can find any information about the stones.”
Chapter 13
A
n hour later, Maggie parked the Jeep in front of the Eureka library. “The librarian, Cassie Wynock, can be a little touchy,” she said as she switched off the ignition and pocketed the key. “My dad stole a library book and she's still upset about it.”
Barb looked amused. “Oh my,” she said. “I had no idea your old man was such a hardened criminal.”
“If that's the worst thing I ever find out he did, I'll consider myself lucky,” Maggie said.
Cassie was helping a mother and her young daughter when Maggie and Barb entered. They waited for their turn at the front counter. “Hi, Cassie,” Maggie said when the librarian turned to them. “This is my friend, Barbara Stanowski. She's visiting from Texas and we'd like to use the Internet.”
Cassie's expression was cold. “I'm afraid that isn't possible,” she said.
“Oh.” Maggie was taken aback. “Is the Internet down?” She glanced toward the row of computer terminals, where a teenager and an older man sat engrossed.
“You're not a resident of Eureka County,” Cassie said. “You don't have a library card. I can't allow you to continue to come in here and use the library's resources.”
Maggie blinked, stunned. “You didn't have a problem before,” she said.
“That was a one-time courtesy. I can't allow you to take advantage. The computer terminals are for our regular patrons.”
“Excuse me.” Barb stepped forward, a brilliant smile on her lips that made Maggie wince. She knew that smile. It was a smile that had annihilated snippy shop clerks and imperious committee members throughout Houston. “This lovely library is a publicly funded institution, is it not?” Barb inquired.
“Yes, but—”
“And those computers and the Internet service and even your salary are paid for by taxpayers.”
“Yes, local taxpayers.”
“Of course.” Barb's smile never dimmed, though the look in her eyes sharpened. “But Ms. Stephens is living here now. So, you see, she is a taxpayer.”
“She doesn't have a library card.” Cassie's pout lent her face an unfortunate piggish look.
“Then perhaps you could issue her one,” Barb said.
“Oh, yes,” Maggie said. “I'd love a library card.”
“I'll need proof of your legal residence,” Cassie said. “A driver's license or a utility bill.”
“I live off the grid,” Maggie said. “You know that. I don't have a utility bill. And I haven't had a chance to get my driver's license changed over.” Not that she had the slightest intention of doing so. She wasn't moving to Eureka; she was only here on an extended visit. Just until she got things settled.
“Then I can't give you a card.” Cassie turned her back to them.
Maggie felt Barb stiffen. By all rights, the librarian should have been a steaming puddle on the floor from the heat of the gaze Barb shot her. “I'd like to speak to your supervisor,” Barb said.
Cassie's smile was a low-wattage imitation of Barb's, but with just as much malice behind it. “I don't have a supervisor.”
That couldn't be right, Maggie thought. She probably had to report to the county government. And there was probably a state library board. Fat lot of good that would do them today. “Come on, Barb.” She tugged at her friend's sleeve. “We can use the computer at Reggie's office.”
With a last, withering look at Cassie, Barb turned on her heel and marched out of the library, Maggie in her wake. By the time they reached the Jeep, Barb was muttering a steady stream of obscenity-laced invective against Cassie and her ancestors. “Who died and made her queen?” Barb asked as she buckled her seat belt.
“I don't know, but it doesn't really matter. Reggie said we were welcome to use the computer in his office.” Though she hated to bug him.
“I can't believe she'd punish you for something your father did. You didn't even know the man. And over a stupid book. I should have just offered to pay for the thing and be done with it.”
“It's not really about the book,” Maggie said. “At least, I don't think it is. The book did belong to her family, and is probably irreplaceable, but I think she's more upset because my father pretended to be interested in her when he really only wanted the book.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“Yes.” Maggie remembered the hurt in Cassie's eyes when she'd told the story—the sting of false hopes and betrayal she knew all too well.
“Then you don't know that's what really happened,” Barb said. “You only have her side of things.”
“It's the only side I'll ever have, since my father isn't here.” She pounded the steering wheel with her palm. “That's the frustrating thing about all of this. The deeper I dig into my father's life, the more of a tangle it becomes. Maybe I should just give up and go home.”
“Then you'd always wonder and worry about those unanswered questions,” Barb said. “Besides, where is home now? Some apartment in Houston? Not that I don't miss you, but you seem to be settling in well here. You're making friends, and you have a cute little cabin with a killer view.”
“And five miles of road only navigable by snowmobile in the winter.” Maggie found a parking space near the Last Dollar and guided the Jeep in.
“If that's a problem, I'm sure you could find a place in town this winter.” Barb unfastened her seat belt. “I thought we were going to your lawyer's office.”
“We are. He's upstairs from the café.”
“Let's eat first. I'm starved.”
Maggie started to protest, but her stomach growled. All she'd had since breakfast was coffee and a few Lorna Doones, and it was almost two. “All right,” she said. Maybe food would improve her mood.
“Hey, Maggie!” Danielle greeted her with a wave, then came out from behind the counter to throw her arms around Maggie in a hug.
Maggie returned the gesture, touched and little taken aback. “This is my friend, Barbara Stanowski,” she said. “Barb, this is Danielle, one of the owners of the café.”
“Nice to meet you,” Danielle said. “Jameso said Maggie had a friend visiting. Y'all come sit over here.” She led them to the same booth Maggie had occupied before. “What would y'all like to drink?”
They ordered iced tea and she hurried back to the kitchen. “Friendly girl,” Barb said, squinting at the chalkboard menu Maggie had directed her to.
“Wait until you see her partner, Janelle.”
As if on cue, the blonde emerged from the kitchen. Today a red beret topped her head, and she wore a matching cropped red sweater and black skinny jeans. “Dani said I had to come out and meet your friend,” she said by way of greeting.
Maggie made the introductions. “It's nice to meet some friendly people after the reception we got at the library,” Barb said.
“Was Cassie on one of her tears today?” Janelle asked sympathetically.
“She refused to let us use the library computers because Maggie doesn't have a library card,” Barb said. “And she won't issue her a library card because her driver's license doesn't say she lives in Eureka County.”
“If it's any comfort, she doesn't like me and Danielle either,” Janelle said. “But if you get your driver's license changed, she'll have to give you a card. Meanwhile, Dani and I have books you can borrow, if you like paperback mysteries and romance novels.”
“I should have given my dad's collection to you instead of the library,” Maggie said. “He had a lot of mysteries.”
“I know. We used to trade books a lot,” Janelle said. “We'd be happy to trade with you, too.”
“Thanks. I'll remember that. Today we just wanted to use the Internet.”
“That's too bad. Now, what would you like to eat?”
They ordered burgers and Janelle returned to the kitchen. Barb watched her departure, then turned to Maggie. “See, you belong here. These people like you, the witch at the library excepted.”
“Yes, it's a nice place. And I like it here. But what would I do for a living if I stayed? My dad didn't leave me enough to live on for the rest of my life.”
“I'm still holding out hope for the mine,” Barb said. “But there must be something you can do.”
“I know how to manage an office, but there aren't that many businesses in Eureka.”
“That's what you've always done, but is it really what you've always wanted to do?” Barb sipped her tea. “You've got a chance here to build a totally new life. What's your dream job?”
“You mean besides being George Clooney's kept mistress?”
“Besides that.”
Maggie rested her chin in her hand and idly stirred her tea with the straw. “I used to want to be a writer. This sounds dumb, but reports and letters and stuff like that were my favorite part of running the office.”
“Then you could write a novel.”
“People don't just wake up one morning and decide to write a novel. It's a lot of work.”
“That doesn't mean you couldn't try. In the meantime, we'll keep our eyes open for something else.”
Maggie started to protest that it wasn't up to Barb to find her a job, but decided not to waste her breath. Barb liked to look after people and frankly, Maggie liked being looked after. Sometimes.
Danielle delivered their burgers, along with a bottle of ketchup and extra napkins. As she bent over their table, Maggie noticed the necklace of blue stones around her neck—stones like the ones they'd found in the mine. “Where did you get your necklace?” she asked.
Danielle put one hand to the circlet of stones. “Murph gave it to me.”
Maggie exchanged a look with Barb. “Did he say where he got it?” Barb asked. “I've never seen one quite like it.”
“He said he picked it up in his travels,” Danielle said. “He was always doing things like that; going away for a while, then showing up with gifts and stuff.”
“He didn't say where in his travels he got the necklace?” Maggie asked.
“No, but he gave one to Janelle, too.”
The front door opened and a couple came in; Danielle went to greet them. Maggie leaned across the table and spoke to Barb in a whisper. “So maybe the stones didn't come out of the mine at all,” she said.
“Or maybe he wasn't telling the truth,” Barb said. “We've already established your old man could lie when it suited him.”
Had her father lied about the origin of the necklace, perhaps to keep the mine safe from poachers like Bob? She half hoped the old miner would show up so she could question him again, but no one she recognized came into the café while she and Barb finished their meal.
Stuffed and feeling in need of a nap, Maggie led the way up the stairs to Reggie's office, but before they were halfway up she spotted the Closed sign on the door. She finished the climb anyway, and tried the knob, but the office was shut tight and dark.
“We don't really need him now anyway,” Barb said as they descended to the parking lot once more. “Tomorrow we can bring your laptop to the café.”
“I know, but I wanted you to meet Reggie. He's a really nice guy. And I need to ask him if he has a date for probate yet.”
“Maybe he'll be in tomorrow.” Barb looked down the row of storefronts. “What else is there in Eureka that I shouldn't miss?” she asked.
“There's someone else I want you to meet. Come on. It's just a short walk.”
At Lacy's, they found Lucille unpacking boxes of raku pottery. “Hey, Maggie,” she greeted the newcomers. “Come see my latest acquisition.” She held up a squat vase. “A collector near Cortez decided to sell some of his treasures and I'm handling the consignment.”
“It's gorgeous.” Maggie stroked the rough side of the pot. It shone with shades of copper and brown, and hints of purple. “Do you think you can sell it?”
“You'd be surprised what passes through here.” Lucille opened another box and began cutting Bubble Wrap away from another pot. “I have collectors who stop by here regularly, along with folks looking to furnish high-dollar homes in Telluride. And I have a Web site where a lot of the pricier stuff finds buyers. This may look like just a junk shop, but there's more to it than that.”
“Oh, I didn't mean—” Maggie flushed. She had thought of Lucille as more of a junk dealer, but she could see now she'd underestimated the woman. After all, Maggie had seen all that Haviland china on her first visit. Apparently it hadn't been as out of place as she thought.
“Hi, I'm Barbara Stanowski.” Barb stepped forward and held out her hand. “I'm visiting Maggie from Houston.”

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