The Keeping (12 page)

Hanging up the
pay-phone—she was surprised to find that they still existed in the
cellular world—she turned to stare around the crowded diner. It had
an ‘L’ shaped dining area. A row of small tables lined the windows
that faced onto the main street. Next there was a row of stools by
a counter, behind which you could get a glimpse into the kitchen
through a serving window. Along the side, leading towards the back
was a long narrow area with a row of booths on one side and various
small tables on the other. It was mid-morning and it appeared many
of the locals had stopped in for coffee after attending Sunday
services at the local church. This, too, might be a good place to
pick up some information on Taylor.

Moving to the
counter, Mel chose an empty stool and hopefully ordered a cafe
latte only to receive a blank stare from the waitress. With a sigh,
she settled for regular and turned in her seat to take in the
atmosphere of the diner. A myriad of food scents tantalized her
nose; cinnamon, pancakes, bacon, frying onions... The sound of
dishes clattering in the kitchen, the hiss of grease as it sizzled
on a griddle... It was all comforting and familiar, reminding her
of her own waitressing jobs back in Chicago. Nostalgically she
thought of her fellow waitresses, the regular customers, Joe the
cook, the long hours, the lousy tips, her sore feet... Hmm, maybe
she wasn’t feeling so nostalgic after all.

Pushing thoughts
of the ‘good old days’ aside—because quite frankly, they weren’t
that good—Mel let the buzz of voices wash around her as she sipped
her coffee and pondered how to pass the time while she waited for a
response from Ryne. Absentmindedly, she began to follow the
different threads of conversation.

“And then I said
to him, if that’s how you feel...”

“My back has been
so much better since I got that new mattress...”

“If you really
want your engine overhauled, I’ll contact Ryne...”

“So then she had
the nerve to...”

Wait! Back up.
Hadn’t she just heard Ryne’s name mentioned? Mel swivelled the
stool she was perched on and scanned the crowd for the source of
the conversation. Two women were talking at the first table. A
group of elderly men sat by the next. At the far corner, a group of
teens had congregated and on the far side of the counter, two
men... Yes. It was them. Discreetly, she shifted over one spot and
tilted her head in their direction, thankful that she’d always had
good hearing.

“Ryne’s busy
fixing up that old place of his that he bought from the Nelsons, so
he doesn’t have a lot of spare time, but I know he needs the extra
money to pay for repairs.” The man talking was in his mid-fifties
with a bit of grey at his temples. Mel noted that his hands showed
signs of hard work, their strength and capability evident even as
he cradled a cup of coffee in them. Despite the relatively new soft
grey jacket he wore, Mel could tell that this was definitely
someone who knew about physical labour and from the faint traces of
grease around his nails, she determined he was probably an auto
mechanic. She gave herself a point for her deductive skills and
then turned her attention to the second man, who she judged to be a
farmer.

“Thanks, Ben. I
love that old truck and I don’t need it right away...if Ryne could
even work on it in his spare time that would be great. I don’t care
when it’s done.”

“All right then.
I’ll give him a call...or better yet, he’ll be in town tomorrow. He
covers for me on Mondays, running the gas pumps and doing repairs,
so I can catch up on the paper work from the previous week. I’ll
talk to him, and if he’s interested, he can stop by on his way home
and look the old girl over, see what he thinks needs doing...”

The two men tossed
some change on the counter and walked out, still talking. Through
the window, Mel watched as they parted ways, one getting into a
car, and driving off, while the other—Ben—walked across the road
towards the service station, pulling a key from his pocket and
unlocking the door.

A dog came
bounding out and Mel recognized it as the one she’d seen yesterday,
waiting to cross the road. She smiled and wondered how Ben had
managed to train the dog to do a trick like that. To the best of
her knowledge, dogs were colour-blind, so how did it know the
difference between a red light and a green one? In her mind, she
could see the man squatting on the ground at the curb, talking to
the dog and explaining the intricacies of safely crossing the road
while the dog nodded solemnly, absorbing this new knowledge.
Shaking her head, she watched as the animal in question bounced
around, no doubt excited for some company.

The waitress came
by to top up her cup of coffee and must have noticed that Mel was
watching the man and his dog.

“That’s Ben Miller
and Harley.” The woman gestured with the coffee pot towards the
activity across the street.

“He’s a nice
looking dog. A lab?”

“Yep. About three
years old. He’s supposed to be a guard dog, but he’s too darn
friendly and not overly smart. If anyone were to break into Ben’s
place, the only thing Harley would do, would be to drown them in
drool.”

“I think he seems
pretty clever. Yesterday, I noticed him waiting for the light to
change before crossing the road.” Mel questioned the waitress’s
assessment of the animal.

“Yeah. That is
sort of strange. He never used to do that, but about a month ago he
ran across the road and almost got hit. Ryne—he’s a guy that works
for Ben—saw it and scooped up Harley, took him to the corner and in
less than half an hour had him trained to use the light. Strangest
thing we ever saw. The whole town was talking about it. Josh
Kennedy—he owns the local paper—even ran an article about it, but
Ryne didn’t want any credit or to have his name mentioned. Said he
didn’t have time to talk to all the dogs in the area, but he’d tell
Harley to spread the word.” The waitress laughed. “That Ryne can be
so funny sometimes.”

As the woman
wandered off to serve another customer, Mel sipped her coffee
thoughtfully. So, Ryne worked on cars and was some sort of ‘dog
whisperer’ as well as being a reclusive photographer. It was a
rather eclectic collection of skills and she wondered what else he
had hidden up his sleeve. She couldn’t wait to talk to him and find
out. Hmm... Did he only work on Mondays? It would be helpful to
know, in case she needed to track him down, especially since she
couldn’t call or visit his house. Deciding that the waitress seemed
to be a likely source of information, she plotted how to find out
more about the man.

Next time the
server made her rounds, Mel was ready. “I was wondering if you
could recommend someone who could look at my car tomorrow. It was
making this funny noise when I started it up this morning.”

The woman smiled
at her and nodded her head towards the window. “Right across the
road where you’ve been staring is where you want to go—Miller’s
Service Station, though we just call it Ben’s. He does good work
and his prices are fair.”

“Great. It must
keep him busy though, running the whole thing himself.”

“Well, his son,
Greg, helped him out for quite a few years, until he headed off to
college, but Ben was real lucky ’cause soon after the boy left,
Ryne moved to town.”

“Ryne?”

“Uh-huh. Ryne
Taylor—the guy I was telling you about who trained Harley. Ben
hired him to work part time. He moved here back in November and
knows his way around an engine—and around a woman too, if you know
what I mean.” The woman winked and sighed dramatically. “The man is
the stuff dreams are made of.”

Mel grinned as her
mind flitted back to her own dream last night. Was Taylor as
talented as her dream lover? This woman seemed to think so...
Frowning, Mel wondered if she had personal experience with Taylor’s
sexual prowess and wondered why the idea miffed her. Taylor was a
job, that’s all. What he did, and with whom, was no concern of
hers. Getting a firm grip on her wandering mind, she focused on the
waitress. “Thanks for the information.”

“You’re welcome.
Oh, and you’ll see the oh-so-sexy Ryne tomorrow if you take your
car in. He works Mondays, Wednesdays, and sometimes on Fridays if
Ben’s real busy.”

“You seem to know
his schedule quite well.” Mel sipped her coffee and eyed the woman
speculatively.

“Yeah. Ryne and I
are good friends. He comes in here a lot and to the bar too. That’s
my second job, working atThe Broken Antler.”

“So he’s your
boyfriend?” A pang of jealousy shot through her and she
frowned.

“Sort of.... I
mean, we see each other, but Ryne’s not the type to be tied down,
you know?” The woman shrugged, tucking a stray lock of bleached
blonde hair behind her ear.

Mel made no
comment, merely nodding.

Leaning her hip
against the counter, the waitress appeared to be settling in for a
long conversation. “You just came to town yesterday, right?
Melody’s your name?”

“Melody Greene.
But you can call me Mel.”

“Mel it is, then.
Beth Kennedy was in earlier today and told me how she’d rented a
cabin to you. She was all excited because now she can order a new
dishwasher and Josh can’t—” Her train of thought was interrupted by
a bell ringing, signalling that someone wanted service at the cash
register. The woman sighed. “Damn, that’s for me. Well, I hope you
enjoy your stay.”

Mel nodded. “I’m
sure I will. Thanks for your help...er...” She checked the woman’s
name tag, before continuing. “Lucy.”

Chapter 9

Mel headed back to
the cabin, making a brief stop at the Kennedys’ first. It was a
modest brick rancher with a few shrubs in the yard and some spring
bulbs beginning to poke their way up through the ground. She
rounded to the back door and hoped the husband and wife team didn’t
think she was too presumptuous, just assuming they’d take messages
for her.

As it turned out,
they didn’t mind and in fact, Bryan had already called with a
response for her. Taylor was considering her request and would let
her know in a few days. Thanking her temporary landlords, Mel hid
her disappointment at the vague response. She climbed back in her
car and drove around the woodlot that separated the Kennedys’ house
from the rental units.

Parking her car,
she sat inside the vehicle, a cloud hanging over her head as she
mulled over Taylor’s response. He would ‘consider’ it! Let her know
in a ‘few days!’ Who did the man think he was? Rembrandt or
something? This was a big break for him! If Greyson liked the
article, Taylor could be famous. His face and his work might become
recognized throughout the art world. There could be gallery
displays and talk-show interviews. He could charge exorbitant
prices for his photos. People might even commission him to take
pictures. This interview could lead to great things. Why was he
balking? Most people would jump at the chance for free
publicity!

Mel wondered what
could possibly be holding him back. Was it his experience with
Bastian’s Gallery? Perhaps they had promised him publicity and it
had somehow gone all wrong. There was that hint of gossip she’d
heard; something about an affair with a sales associate who had
disappeared and missing money... Her eyes widened as a thought
occurred to her. Had Ryne flown into a rage, murdered the woman and
was now hiding out? It certainly would explain his reticence!

Forcing herself to
rein in her imagination, she tried to consider her theory with calm
logic. He wasn’t eager for an interview, but that didn’t make him a
criminal. The woman was missing, but maybe she’d run off with the
money to some tropical island. And Ryne was
considering
an
interview not flat-out refusing. Surely, a murderer would have said
no right away.

Feeling relieved
that her wild imaginings were, in all likelihood, just that, she
climbed out of the car and wandered over to the edge of the cabin
where she stared at the forest beyond. It was frustrating, having
to wait—especially since patience wasn’t her strong suit, but
grinding her teeth and getting all in a stir would serve no
purpose. Willing herself to relax, she inhaled deeply, letting the
crisp early spring air invade her lungs. Taylor was getting under
her skin and he wasn’t even here; that would never do. She needed
to calm down and take things one step at a time. There was no firm
time line. Just because she, herself, had decided on a week in
Stump River, didn’t mean it couldn’t take longer. Aldrich said
Greyson would allow her up to a year to complete the task if need
be. Maybe Greyson knew something about Taylor already—such as the
fact that he was shy and didn’t like interviews. That would explain
things a bit.

Leaning against
the side of the cabin, Mel tried to resign herself to the idea that
she would probably be here longer than she thought. She consoled
herself with the fact that it didn’t really matter—well except for
the lack of decent latte. No one was waiting for her in Chicago.
She had quit both of her waitressing jobs and paid her rent for the
next month. Maybe she should look on her time here as a vacation.
Aldrich couldn’t complain if she had nothing in particular to
report. Having to wait for Taylor’s decision wasn’t her fault.

Closing her eyes,
she made herself focus on the sensation of the warm sun beating
down on her. After a long, snowy winter it felt good to absorb the
rays. By the time summer came, she’d be back in Chicago with waves
of blistering heat bouncing off the pavement and everyone would be
worrying about the UV levels. See? Here was something positive. For
this moment in time, she could just enjoy the sun.

With her eyes
closed, her other senses heightened; the solid wood of the cabin
behind her, the slight breeze that caused her hair to brush against
her cheek. In the distance, birds were twittering and an occasional
squirrel chattered. Water steadily dripped off the edge of the roof
and hit the ground in a dull rhythm as the remaining snow, trapped
in the eaves troughs, melted.