Due or Die (5 page)

Sully was the original quiet man. He didn’t talk much but asked good questions. He listened attentively, as if what she had to say genuinely interested him. Having been engaged to a law professor who quite loved the sound of his own voice, Lindsey wasn’t used to being the loquacious one. It was a novel experience, but still, she found herself more and more curious about the boat captain beside her.

“Do you offer many boat tours in the winter?” she asked.

“After December, we’re pretty much shut down on tours until the spring. Everyone loves to see the Thumb Islands lit up for the holidays, but after that we’re mostly a taxi service for the island residents and their visitors until the end of March.”

“Do your parents stay on their island in the winter?” she asked, wondering if it was terribly cold out there.

“Yep,” he said. “Mary and I tried to talk them into getting a nice apartment off island but no dice. They’re on one of the few islands with electricity and they have a wood-burning stove. I understand why they stay out there. It’s over ten acres of peace and quiet. Their island has three
houses on it, and their neighbors stay out there, too, so if there was an emergency, there are people around. But they are getting older…”

His voice trailed off and he stared out the windshield of the truck toward the islands, which were only visible by their lights reflected on the water.

From what Lindsey had read about the history of the islands, she had learned that the Thumb Islands were an archipelago of seventy to one hundred islands, depending on how you quantified an island. Some people counted the rocks that jutted up out of the water, others felt that there must be some sign of life for it to be a true island. Sully’s parents lived on Bell Island, one of the largest and one of the few populated all year round.

Sully parked in the gravel drive beside the house where Lindsey rented an apartment. From their vantage point on the raised cliffs that overlooked Briar Creek Bay and the islands, Lindsey could see Bell Island and noticed that the Sullivans still had their lights on.

She wondered what it would be like to live out there, with the constant sound of the surf as background music and the cries of the seagulls as the days’ conversation. After last week’s altercation with the screeching Marjorie Bilson, it seemed a nicer option. Which reminded her, she had been meaning to ask Sully about that episode.

“So, how did you find out about Marjorie?” she asked him as he opened his door and circled the truck to open her door for her.

He hadn’t said so, but given that he’d been driving her and Beth home every night for a week now, she couldn’t believe it was just coincidence.

“Let’s
talk inside where it’s warm,” he said.

He gave her a hand down from the truck and then lifted her bike out of the back and walked it to the garage, where she kept it out of the inclement winter weather.

Lindsey followed. She hoped she hadn’t put him off by asking about Marjorie. She held the door open for him while he wheeled the bike inside. She closed the door behind him and stepped back.

They were both bundled against the cold, him less than her with his knit cap and peacoat. She had on her puffy coat with a hat and scarf and gloves. Pretty much the only skin she had left exposed was her eyelids.

Sully took her arm and led her across the frozen ground to the walkway. Spots of ice made the walk precarious and she picked her way carefully, aware of his hand at her elbow. If she slipped, Sully was ready to catch her. She found that comforting.

Her landlord and crafternoon buddy, Nancy Peyton, lived on the first floor, and Nancy’s nephew, Charlie, lived in between them on the second. He was an aspiring rock star who worked for Sully’s tour-boat company. Since winter work was slow, he had packed up his band in his ancient van and migrated south to play some gigs for the month of January. Lindsey liked Charlie, but she had to admit it was nice not to watch her furniture dance across the apartment floor during his weekly band practice.

The front door was never locked and Lindsey opened it and stepped into the vestibule.

The heat from the steam radiator fogged up the window but made the small entryway toasty warm. Lindsey pulled off her hat and unwound her scarf.

“To
answer your question, my friend Tom told me that Marjorie tried to run you off the road the other night,” he said.

When Lindsey met his gaze, she could see worry in his blue eyes.

“Ah, I thought it was something like that,” she said. “I really don’t think she’ll do it again.”

“No, probably not,” he said. Although, he didn’t sound as sure as she would have liked. “But since I get off work about the same time as you do and it’s dark out there, I think we can maintain our current carpool situation for a while, don’t you?”

Lindsey nodded. She had to admit it was a bit of a relief to know she could depend upon Sully to get her and Beth home, at least until Marjorie calmed down about the whole Bill Sint thing or she found the time to buy a car.

“Have you seen Marjorie since the incident?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I’m sure, well, mostly sure, that she didn’t mean to scare me like that.”

“Sure she did,” he said.

“Really?”

“Marjorie lacks impulse control,” he said. “She always has.”

“Has…?” Lindsey began to ask if Marjorie had ever hurt anyone before, but Nancy’s door opened and she stuck her head out.

“What are you two doing out here?” she asked as if she’d been waiting for them. “Come on in. I just made some fresh gingerbread and I have some hot cider on the stove.”

Lindsey and Sully exchanged a bemused glance before
stepping into her apartment. Nancy was renown in town for her cookie-baking skills. Fresh gingerbread? They didn’t need to be asked twice.

Not wanting to worry Nancy, Lindsey changed the conversation to Charlie Peyton and his band. He had been texting Nancy from every city he played in. The messages read like he was an academic exchange student, but even Nancy knew better.

With a laugh, she dug out her phone and read his latest message. “Dear Naners, our gig went well in Charlotte. Lots of college students turned out and we had a great debate on the economics of the pitcher versus the pint. We then took turns driving the big bus in our hotel room. Off to Savannah. Love, Charlie.”

Then she translated. “I believe ‘driving the big bus’ is a euphemism for getting so drunk he threw up in the toilet.” Nancy made a big circle of her arms and lowered her head.

Sully and Lindsey laughed over their cider and gingerbread, and Lindsey was grateful for the diversion. She didn’t like to acknowledge that the incident with Marjorie had her looking over her shoulder, but there was no denying that she had her guard up, especially when riding her bike.

Mercifully, tomorrow was the first meeting of the Friends of the Library with Carrie as president. Lindsey could only hope that once the first meeting was a done deal, they could start to move forward and put the hurt feelings and hostility behind them, way behind them.

Of course, a lot of that would depend upon whether Marjorie showed up and tried to do anyone an injury or not.

L
indsey was working the reference desk on the adult side of the library when the first members of the Friends started to arrive for their meeting. They waved as they passed by and she waved back. She kept an eye out for Bill and Marjorie but didn’t see either of them arrive.

She wondered if they had quit the group in protest and figured she could ask Milton after the meeting, as he seemed to be in the know about these things. She thought perhaps it was for the best if they had. Tension in the group couldn’t be a good thing.

“Excuse me, can you help me find out when National Pie Day is?”

Lindsey turned away from the hallway to see a young woman standing in front of the reference desk. She looked
to be in her mid-twenties. She was carrying a laptop under her arm and looking pretty cranky.

“Sure, is that all you want to know, when National Pie Day is?” Lindsey said.

“No, I have a whole list of events and I need to find out when they are. I’m student teaching at a preschool and they want me to come up with all sorts of activities and stuff.”

“Oh, okay,” Lindsey said. She rose from the desk and headed for the ready reference bookshelf adjacent to her desk where they kept their favorite reference books.

The young woman let out a put-upon sigh, as if walking five feet and cracking open a book was the equivalent of hard labor. “Can’t you just google it?”

“I could,” Lindsey said. “But since you have a list of events, using a book is actually going to be faster.”

The girl grumbled as she followed her, and Lindsey had to suppress the urge to smile. She reached for her favorite book and placed it on top of the shelf.

“This is
Chase’s Calendar of Events
. It should answer all of your questions. There is an index in the back so you can look it up by the type of event. For example, you might want to start with pie. The pages are also broken down by day, so you can look up any day in the calendar year and find out what is special about it.”

“Really?” the woman asked, looking suspicious.

“Indeed,” Lindsey said. Now she did chuckle. “It’s a great book, one of my favorites. And now I’ll tell you a secret. When you google things, you have to be able to verify the website. Otherwise Joe Shmoe could put up a web page declaring National Pie Day is October fourth,
when everyone knows—and
Chase’s
will verify—that National Pie Day is January twenty-third.”

The woman looked at her with rounded eyes as if she’d never thought of that. Lindsey smiled and walked away. She loved Google for doing searches as much as the next person, but really, it wasn’t
all
that and it certainly didn’t verify its sites. It was just one tool out of many in the quest for information.

When she got back to the reference desk, Mimi Seitler was standing there, fretting her lower lip.

“Hi, Mimi,” Lindsey said. “Is everything all right?”

“You haven’t seen Carrie, have you?” Mimi asked.

“No, not since the last meeting,” Lindsey said. “Isn’t she here yet?”

Lindsey glanced at the clock on the lower right-hand corner of her computer monitor. It was fourteen minutes past the hour. It wasn’t like Carrie to be late, and certainly not to her first meeting as president.

Just then the main glass doors slid open and Carrie rushed in. Her coat was hanging off her shoulders, she didn’t have on a hat or gloves and her cheeks were brightly flushed. Lindsey would have thought it was from the cold but she looked agitated.

“Oh, good, she’s here,” Mimi said.

Carrie was rushing through the main room toward the back and Mimi hurried to join her.

Lindsey thought she heard the words
car trouble
and was relieved that at least it hadn’t been Bill or Marjorie causing Carrie grief.

The rest of the evening passed quietly, and Lindsey and
her two remaining staff members were just shutting down the equipment when the Friends adjourned for the night and trooped through the library on their way to the exit.

“So, you must be the notorious Ms. Norris,” a voice said from behind her.

Lindsey spun around to see a very handsome man in a long overcoat standing behind her.

“Notorious?” she asked. “I don’t know about that.”

“According to my uncle Bill, you are quite the femme fatale.”

Lindsey sighed. She had a feeling she knew to which Bill he was referring. “You’re related to Bill Sint?”

“He’s my uncle,” the man said and held out his hand. “Edmund Sint at your service.”

He was a few inches taller than Lindsey and he had the whole-milk, grain-fed, clean-cut appearance of a model in a Brooks Brothers’ ad. With a pang, she realized he reminded her of her former fiancé, John Mayhew, as he had the air of an academic about him with the same ruddy-cheeked good looks and charming manner.

She shook his hand. “I know your uncle is unhappy with me. I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “Uncle Bill can be a bit taciturn, but he generally gets over it. He has a horrible cold right now. He sent me as his emissary to make certain no one thought he’d been driven out of the Friends.”

He grinned at her, and Lindsey couldn’t help but smile back. Whatever Bill Sint lacked in good manners, Edmund made up for by the bucketful.

“Tell me,” he said as he leaned close, “is it true he told you to get stuffed?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her and Lindsey had to laugh. He had the look of someone who did not take life too seriously. She liked that.

“He did,” she said. “It was quite shocking.” She imitated his eyebrow maneuver and he laughed. It was a good, deep laugh that rumbled up from his chest without restraint. She was glad Ms. Cole wasn’t here right now, for she surely would have shushed him.

“Good night, Lindsey,” Carrie called as she passed them.

“Good night,” Lindsey said.

“Oh, Mrs. Rushton,” Edmund called to her. “Won’t you join us for a moment?”

Carrie looked uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure if Edmund was friend or foe.

He must have sensed her reluctance, because he said, “Don’t worry; unlike my uncle, I don’t bite.”

Carrie smiled with relief and joined them.

“As an apology for my uncle’s behavior, I’d like to invite you both to lunch at the house,” he said. “It will give us a chance to get better acquainted and encourage my uncle to get over his hurt feelings. I’ll even give you a tour of the estate. You can admire all of the family’s various collections. What do you say?”

“Well, that’s very nice of you.” Carrie hedged.

“We’d love to.” Lindsey accepted for the both of them. This was just what Carrie and Bill needed to let bygones be bygones.

Carrie gave her a wide-eyed glance while Edmund grinned at her. “Excellent. I’ll give Uncle a few days to recover from his cold and then we’ll set a date.”

Lindsey liked the way his gray eyes darkened when he said the word
date
. Not that she thought it was a date or that he was implying that it was a date. She just liked his eyes, really.