Wendy quickly remembered that it was too early for The Rose and Crown to be open. How foolish of me! She berated herself. Her anxiety had cost her a peaceful morning with Michael and Old Tim. She decided to run the errands she had told Old Tim in her lie, at least then they would become partial truths.
There were a few places along the way to the tavern that she enjoyed visiting, and the winter day wasn't an especially cold one. Lately, the weather had been bitter, but today was rather mild.
A stop at the small local yarn shop–after a bit of dickering–got her a good deal on some brilliantly colored yarn, which she paid the shopkeeps young boy two pence to deliver to Old Tim's. "Tell him I stopped to visit an old friend and won't be home till later." She instructed the child, who nodded and then hurried off. She would be able to knit more scarves, hats, and mittens to sell in the open market. It was one of her more lucrative skills. Her education and upbringing didn't do her much good as a poor, single woman.
From there she visited one of her favorite places, a small cafe and book shop. The doorbell tinkled merrily as she entered. The shop was bustling with people as it was now close to noon. She found a small table in the far corner by the window. A harried waitress took her order without even looking at her: a pot of tea and a scone. Wendy opened the small book she had plucked from the shelf on her way to the cafe area, it was a tale of adventure and heroism, something she sorely needed at this moment. She needed to bolster herself for her task this evening. When the tea came, it was hot and strong, and the scone filled her belly with warmth and comfort.
Wendy lost track of time as she devoured the novel, nose getting closer and closer to the page at every nail-biting scene–until the nape of her neck began to prickle.
The sensation of being watched drew her uneasily from the story and she glanced around, wondering if someone else was hoping to sit at the seat across from her. No one was near her in the shop. She turned to the window and gasped.
A boy...or a man–she couldn't tell his age–stood outside the window staring at her. His forest green eyes held her pale-mist blue ones in a hypnotic gaze. She couldn't tell what the rest of him looked like because his eyes held her captive. Finally, when he seemed to have his fill of whatever he was taking from her, he released her and hurried off.
Without thinking, Wendy leaped from her chair and rushed out of the shop. She looked toward the direction he had gone, but could only see people milling about the sidewalks and carriages bouncing along the cobblestone street. She stood on tiptoe, trying to peer over the heads of the crowd, but to no avail. He was gone.
An odd sense of loss washed over her and she reluctantly retreated to the shop to retrieve her coverings. It had grown late enough that she knew The Rose and Tavern would be starting it's evening preparations.
She headed towards the peninsula end of the tiny coastal town her mother had settled them in. The Rose and Tavern was just on the outskirts of town, close enough for there to be a large crowd most nights, far enough that some of the more "in the dark" events tended to occur here more than in the other pubs.
Wendy could have taken the main road, but instead, she cut through a small forest path that she and Michael had found when their mother had first started working at the tavern. It was quiet and peaceful, and a balm to her quickening heart.
When she exited the forest, the tavern loomed into view, and behind it, a large warehouse. Ivy grew along the edges of the building, softening the edges and making it appear homey and comforting. Usually, the loud noises of drunkards belied that image. She hesitated at the door but forced herself to open it and step inside the dimly lit pub.
"Wendy? Is that you?" A high pitched squeal split her ears. A flurry of frothy skirts and curly blonde hair flashed before her before she was enveloped in a rough hug.
"Imogene! How wonderful to see you." Wendy hissed as the hair was crushed from her lungs.
"Oh my dear, I've meant to call on ya and yer brother, but I've been so busy. I saw you for a moment at the funeral, but then you were gone. Oh please forgive me." Imogene wept dramatically onto her shoulder.
Wendy patted her back, "It's fine, we can have tea sometime."
Imogene let her go and blew her nose loudly in a handkerchief she drew from her generous buxom, "Oh that would be lovely."
"Now, I would love to stay and catch up but I am actually here on business. Is Mr. Cabot in?"
Imogene tensed and her eyes darted to the back of the pub, "Well...now what would you be wantin to see Joe for?"
"I need to speak with him about some of mum's..."
"Oy! Imogene! Why ain't you workin?" a gruff voice hollered from an alcove leading to the second floor. A large, looming shadow lumbered through the door and both women took a step back.
Anthony Larson, or Tony, was Joe's right hand man. He was large, not overly bright, and mean. He glared at Imogene, then realized Wendy was standing next to her. "Ay, don't I know you from somewhere?"
"Tony, this is Wendy, Moira's daughter." Imogene offered.
"Shaddup, I knows that," he turned back to Wendy, "Whaddayu want then?"
Wendy pasted a bright smile on her face, "Oh, I'm here to see Mr. Cabot. Is he available?"
Tony squinted at her and scowled, "I'll check." Then he lumbered to the back of the pub towards Joe's office.
Imogene touched Wendy's shoulder to draw her attention from the door Tony had passed through, "Wendy, would you like something, while you wait?"
"Uhh, something to drink might be nice. Tea if you can manage. I can pay."
"No, please dear, it's on the house." Imogene then hustled away to prepare the tea. But before she reached the doorway leading to the kitchen she turned, "And Wendy, if you can manage. Have your meeting out here." Then she was gone.
Wendy frowned, but before she could follow and ask what she meant, Tony had reappeared. "He's ready for ya."
"Oh, he won't be coming out?" Wendy asked, Imogene's words flitting through her mind.
"No." Then Tony waited and stared at her. Wendy shivered and walked towards him. He held the door open to Joe's office and jerked his head towards it. She stared through the door, apprehension slowing her movements. "Well, go on then." Not wanting to seem rude, Wendy clenched her fists and entered.
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