deep, twangy voice sang about a lost love.
Henry and Camellia sat at the short side of the counter near the door. The waitress, named Irene, according to the tag on her apron, set two cups down in front of them and poured coffee without asking. “You folks lost?” she asked, her voice loud enough to address the entire restaurant, had there been more than four
customers present.
“Just moved to town last night, actually,” Henry explained, clutching the warm cup in his hands.
Irene eyed them both in disbelief. “You two...moved here? What, are you in the Witness Protection Program or something?”
Henry laughed. “No. I took a job with a radiology practice a few miles away.”
Irene set the coffee pot on the counter and leaned on her elbows, engrossed. “Oh, a doctor! My papa always wanted me to marry a doctor,” she said with a note of disdain to Camellia. “Instead, I married a carpenter with a tendency to fall off of things. He’s currently at home nursing a broken collarbone.”
Camellia gave the waitress a weak smile and drank her equally weak coffee. Irene frowned and turned her attention back to Henry. “You at Northern Medical Center?”
“Yes, and Mercy, too. There’s also supposed to be an imaging center around here, right?”
“Yep, I see that place when I get up to Walmart. It’s right next-door.”
“Get up to Walmart?” Camellia piped in.
“Oh yeah, it’s a bit of a drive, four miles I’d say, but it’s worth knocking out a little gas in my tank. They have everything at Walmart.”
Camellia groaned, slipped on her coat, and grabbed the keys from the counter. “I have to make a phone call,” she lied. “I’ll be in the car.”
Irene huffed and refilled Henry’s cup. “What’s her problem?”
“My wife just needs a little time to adjust. It’s a big change from New York to Markleeville.”
“New York to Markleeville ?” Irene screeched. “That’s like going from a Ferrari to a Model T. Your wife’s gonna need a whole load of time to get used to this place.”
THIRTEEN
Two days after arriving in Markleeville, Henry started his new job with a meeting at the radiology practice’s office, located across the street from Northern Medical Center, just a mile and a half west of Markleeville. It was Camellia’s first time alone in the cottage, and she was determined to keep busy.
It had been years since she had cleaned up anything more than her own breakfast dishes, but the cottage had been sitting unused for some time, and had acquired a thick layer of dust. She searched the kitchen cabinets as well as the shelves in the tiny mudroom that joined the house to the garage, and came up empty. The best she could find in the garage was a half-used roll of paper towel. She would have to walk to town. Pulling her tall Gucci boots over black skinny denim, she threw on her short fur coat and a pair of cropped leather gloves and exited the front door, locking it behind her. The cottage was only three blocks from town, but with a cutting, bitter wind hitting her exposed ears, the trek felt like miles.
The town was just as eerily quiet as it was the morning she and Henry had driven through en route to the storage facility. Only a few cars dotted the street and she was the only soul on foot. As she looked in the store windows, trudging along the single block that made up the heart of the downtown, Camellia realized she had limited choices for cleaning supplies. Limited choices for everything, really. Each store had a monopoly on the goods they were selling, save for the two women’s boutiques that only differentiated themselves by their names. On the same side of the street as the diner was Lisa’s Designs, and directly across the road was Cozy Corner. They both looked and sounded hopelessly outdated.
Toward the end of the block was a hardware store plainly called Henry’s Hardware, and Camellia stepped inside, grateful for the blast of heat
Henry and Camellia sat at the short side of the counter near the door. The waitress, named Irene, according to the tag on her apron, set two cups down in front of them and poured coffee without asking. “You folks lost?” she asked, her voice loud enough to address the entire restaurant, had there been more than four
customers present.
“Just moved to town last night, actually,” Henry explained, clutching the warm cup in his hands.
Irene eyed them both in disbelief. “You two...moved here? What, are you in the Witness Protection Program or something?”
Henry laughed. “No. I took a job with a radiology practice a few miles away.”
Irene set the coffee pot on the counter and leaned on her elbows, engrossed. “Oh, a doctor! My papa always wanted me to marry a doctor,” she said with a note of disdain to Camellia. “Instead, I married a carpenter with a tendency to fall off of things. He’s currently at home nursing a broken collarbone.”
Camellia gave the waitress a weak smile and drank her equally weak coffee. Irene frowned and turned her attention back to Henry. “You at Northern Medical Center?”
“Yes, and Mercy, too. There’s also supposed to be an imaging center around here, right?”
“Yep, I see that place when I get up to Walmart. It’s right next-door.”
“Get up to Walmart?” Camellia piped in.
“Oh yeah, it’s a bit of a drive, four miles I’d say, but it’s worth knocking out a little gas in my tank. They have everything at Walmart.”
Camellia groaned, slipped on her coat, and grabbed the keys from the counter. “I have to make a phone call,” she lied. “I’ll be in the car.”
Irene huffed and refilled Henry’s cup. “What’s her problem?”
“My wife just needs a little time to adjust. It’s a big change from New York to Markleeville.”
“New York to Markleeville ?” Irene screeched. “That’s like going from a Ferrari to a Model T. Your wife’s gonna need a whole load of time to get used to this place.”
THIRTEEN
Two days after arriving in Markleeville, Henry started his new job with a meeting at the radiology practice’s office, located across the street from Northern Medical Center, just a mile and a half west of Markleeville. It was Camellia’s first time alone in the cottage, and she was determined to keep busy.
It had been years since she had cleaned up anything more than her own breakfast dishes, but the cottage had been sitting unused for some time, and had acquired a thick layer of dust. She searched the kitchen cabinets as well as the shelves in the tiny mudroom that joined the house to the garage, and came up empty. The best she could find in the garage was a half-used roll of paper towel. She would have to walk to town. Pulling her tall Gucci boots over black skinny denim, she threw on her short fur coat and a pair of cropped leather gloves and exited the front door, locking it behind her. The cottage was only three blocks from town, but with a cutting, bitter wind hitting her exposed ears, the trek felt like miles.
The town was just as eerily quiet as it was the morning she and Henry had driven through en route to the storage facility. Only a few cars dotted the street and she was the only soul on foot. As she looked in the store windows, trudging along the single block that made up the heart of the downtown, Camellia realized she had limited choices for cleaning supplies. Limited choices for everything, really. Each store had a monopoly on the goods they were selling, save for the two women’s boutiques that only differentiated themselves by their names. On the same side of the street as the diner was Lisa’s Designs, and directly across the road was Cozy Corner. They both looked and sounded hopelessly outdated.
Toward the end of the block was a hardware store plainly called Henry’s Hardware, and Camellia stepped inside, grateful for the blast of heat
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