Borrowing Death by Cathy Pegau

positively horrified by the circumstances of Lyle Fiske’s death. She couldn’t believe two murders could occur in the same small town in such a short period of time. It had surprised Charlotte too, that was certain.
    After an hour of gleaning articles and catching up with Kit, Charlotte said her good-byes.
    â€œYou should come up here,” she told Kit. “I think you’d enjoy it, and Michael would certainly be happy to see you.”
    Michael had been smitten with Kit off and on during their childhood, and she with him. Their relationship had eventually settled into friendship, and Michael considered Kit another younger sister to fuss over and be frustrated by.
    â€œMaybe,” Kit said. “It would be quite the lark, wouldn’t it?” There was a long pause on the line, and Charlotte thought they’d been cut off. Then Kit said, in a more serious tone, “How are you really, Charlotte?”
    Kit wasn’t asking about her physical health. It was her recovery from the past year, her dismal relationship with Richard, and the aftermath that worried her best friend.
    Charlotte moistened her chapped lips. “I’m good. Truly. It helps to keep busy.”
    A soft sigh came over the other end. “It does.”
    There was something in those two words that sounded off. “Kit, are you all right?”
    She’d been gone only three months, but anything could have happened. Surely Kit would have told her if there was devastating news.
    â€œOh, I’m fine. Just tired. Good gravy, look at the time. Gotta meet with Malone. Take care, darling!”
    â€œYou too. Talk to you in a couple of weeks.” Charlotte set the earpiece in the bracket and stared at the telephone. It was always bittersweet to talk to Kit or her parents, but it was better that she’d come to Cordova. Better by a long stretch.
    Charlotte had traveled north not just to have a journalistic adventure, as she’d told her family and friends, but to get away from memories of her failed relationship with Richard. She needed to put physical distance between herself and constant reminders that she’d been a fool. Months after, she’d start to get back on an even keel, then an announcement that yet another of her schoolmates was getting married or expecting would make her cringe. The inevitable “What about you, Charlotte?” became too much.
    Telling them she wasn’t ready to settle down was met with stares of incomprehension. Of course she was ready, they’d insist. How could it be otherwise? She’d had her fun playing journalist, marching in parades. It was time to become a productive member of society, and that meant a husband and children in their eyes.
    She could explain her reasons ten different ways and still not get them to understand: She wasn’t wife and mother material. She’d become tired of trying to tell them not all women wanted that life. Coming to Alaska was intended to help Charlotte put her failings and feelings behind her, but moving thousands of miles away also kept her from beating her head against their walls of outdated expectations.
    Taking a deep breath and a moment to clear her head, Charlotte pushed the voices and emotions of the past aside. There was work to be done. Focusing on that would be much more productive than dwelling on things she couldn’t change now.
    Three hours later, Charlotte got up to make herself some tea. She stood in front of the coal stove, hands spread to absorb heat as her tea steeped, her brain whirling with questions for James. Where had the Fiske store employees been that night? Did Lyle have the reputation for having a temper? Had anyone made complaints against him?
    While she considered approaching James, an unexpected, completely unrelated question popped into her head: Who was the woman who had kissed James on the cheek? She didn’t look familiar, but then Charlotte had seen her only from the back.
    A