Page 4 of One Chance to Stay (Bears of Firefly Valley #4)

Patrick: False alarm. Didn’t die.

Jon: You were serious?

Jason: What happened? Are you okay?

Jon: Do you need anything? Lasagna? Pie?

Amanda: He nearly froze, not starved.

Jon: Oh. Chicken soup it is!

I barely stepped into Valhalla when Evelyn threw her arms around my neck. She squeezed as if she feared I’d slip away. I hadn’t spent twenty minutes with the woman when she showed me my room yesterday. This level of familiarity was what I expected from Firefly.

“Are you okay? I heard you got caught in the snow?”

“I’m okay.” She didn’t relinquish her stranglehold. “I didn’t get back to my truck before the snow started. You’d think growing up in Maine, I’d know better.”

She let go before resting her hand on the back of my forehead.

I’d cry foul if she pulled out a thermometer.

Satisfied I wasn’t running a fever, she pulled on the flaps of my hat, ensuring they covered my ears.

If I squinted my right eye and tilted my head to the side, I could see her resemblance to Jon.

“I heard you fought off a black bear?”

Twenty-four hours since I came to Firefly, and already the rumor mill had pulled me into their group text.

I didn’t know if I should be flattered or concerned.

Would I need to call the town together to make a public declaration?

Knowing Firefly, they were already preparing a spaghetti night to cover my medical bills.

“No black bears.”

Her eyebrow went up. Oh, now I could see the family resemblance. One hundred percent an Olsen. When her lip curved, I thought it might be Jon in a shoulder-length blond wig. Her brain was already trying to piece together the information.

“Have a seat in the living room. I’ll grab some…”

“Coffee. Dark. As much kick as you can muster.”

“Valhalla never disappoints.”

She spun about and bolted for the kitchen.

I worked my way to the living room, taking off my jacket and hanging it on the coatrack.

I settled into a comfy chair, leaving on the bright orange hunting cap.

Evelyn offered coffee, but I doubt it had anything to do with hospitality.

In Maine, coffee served as an excuse to share gossip. She had an agenda.

Despite being in a warm room, I still had the occasional shiver.

On the drive to my truck, Seamus said I’d experience it for another day or two.

I thought he was annoyed that he had to take time out of his day to rescue an idiot.

He hadn’t spoken another word, and we sat in silence. When he let me out, he drove off.

He turned around, heading back toward his house, and I expected him to pass without another glance.

Seamus stopped. I got in my truck, and after a little effort, I got it out of the snow.

Only when all four tires touched the pavement did he continue on his way.

Seamus didn’t waste words when actions could speak for him.

“So, tell me about the bears.”

Evelyn appeared with two oversized mugs piping with steam. She handed me one and curled up on the couch. I noted the multi-color knitted socks. Jon warned me I’d be leaving with at least one pair.

I took a sip and ignored the scalding heat. After yesterday, I’d have chugged it. I would never leave the inn without at least three shirts, a couple of jackets, and thermal underwear.

“I’ve never seen a black bear before.”

“But you saw a bear.” Her eyebrows shot up as she sipped from her mug.

“I…” Oh. I should have guessed Jon’s love of furry men would have colored his sister’s language. “He’s not a bear… exactly.” I swore Evelyn leaned forward when she realized she had sniffed out my diabolical secret. “I think you’d call him a grizzly?”

“Half the men in this town fit that description.”

I retold the story, and when I got to the moment I stared down the barrel of a gun, I could hear her gasp. I left out waking up naked. Amusing in hindsight, I didn’t want the rumor mill to get the wrong impression.

“Are you okay? Like, do you have all your digits?”

“All twenty-one,” I assured her. I didn’t intend to be vulgar. I’d lie and call it a bad habit I picked up at the bar to get more tips.

Evelyn laughed. “Seamus, you say?” Her eyes rolled upward as she ran through the list of every person in Firefly.

“I can’t say I know the name. That doesn’t mean much.

I can barely keep track of who owns which store.

Speaking of, did you see that we’re getting a liquor store?

There’s also a rumor about a gas station, but I think that’s just wishful thinking. ”

Yes, this passed for small-town news.

“Next thing you know, you’ll have two bakeries.”

“Whoa, now—” She held up a hand in shock. “Firefly isn’t ready for that. I think they’re only allowed one grand opening per year.” I forgot Jon had said she had lived in Massachusetts for years. She clearly understood the outlandish behavior of the townspeople.

“Make sure you tell him thank you.”

The bait had been cast. Try as she might, her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

Evelyn Olsen had a subtle way of inserting herself into the conversation.

If it had been her brother, he’d have already ordered a gift basket.

She, on the other hand, set a trap and waited for me to walk into it.

She might not be from Firefly, but she had studied their ways.

“What do you get that says, ‘Thanks for not letting me freeze to death?’”

“How much is your life worth?” She waggled her eyebrows, softening the philosophical question. “I think this might exceed the usual pie.”

The phone rang in the kitchen, and Evelyn jumped to her feet. Without another word, she hurried away. I could hear the “Thanks for calling Valhalla Bed-and-Breakfast, how can I make your stay?”

How did I say thank you to a man living in the middle of nowhere?

I assume he didn’t need a fresh box of ammo.

I bet he had livestock. Maybe some chicken feed?

That didn’t quite send the right message.

Whatever it was, I wanted it to break through that steely exterior and make him smile.

I was going to hate myself for asking, but I needed outside input.

Thankfully, I had three patrons living in town who would gladly share their opinions.

I pulled out my phone. I tapped the screen before remembering it died the night before. The screen came to life.

“One hundred percent?”

The little battery icon showed a full charge. Had the cold done something weird? Or had a big softie plugged it in while he washed and dried my clothes? I didn’t fight the smile on my face. Underneath that growling persona, my savior had a squishy center. This only renewed my determination.

Patrick: Where do I go for gossip?

Jon: Rita is having a fling with Logan Jr.

Amanda: That’s common knowledge.

Jason: She’s had a crush on him since seventh grade.

Patrick: I need the queen of gossip.

Amanda: Gladys.

Jason: Gladys.

Jon: Gladys.

“It’s like living in a winter wonderland.”

Firefly had the quintessential downtown. A horseshoe of businesses surrounded a park in the middle. At one time, there had stood a giant paper mill, but since its closure, the town had repurposed it into small storefronts.

The people around the green shoveled away the latest snowstorm. While I had come face-to-face with death, they took it in stride, tossing salt along the sidewalks. Winter in Maine could be brutal, but Firefly went through the motions, leaning into the cuteness of their winter wonderland.

Kids played on the green, hurling snowballs at one another.

A man and his daughter were busy rolling snow for the second tier of their snowman.

The flier in Valhalla listed the next big event as the winter solstice bonfire.

The garlands had been strung from lampposts, and wreaths hung from the gazebo posts.

Even in the daylight, red lights twinkled.

At any moment, I expected a man in a red suit carrying a bag full of presents to use the green as his landing strip.

Every person I passed gave me a tip of the hat or a heartfelt smile. In the city, we avoided eye contact, but here, I bet they’d see it as offensive. When in Rome… I smiled at the woman with her son, acting as if I could tip my bright orange hunting cap.

At the top of the green, a row of stores ran the length of the street.

To one side, I spotted my destination, Twice-Told Tales.

By the time I reached the door, I reconsidered my strategy.

As soon as I walked in, I’d be allowing Firefly to drag me into its web of interconnected familiarity.

Nothing I said from here on would be secret.

With a hand on the door, I admitted that every ounce of privacy prepared to evaporate.

The bell jingled.

I gave a slight shiver as the cold fell away.

With each step, I walked further back in time.

The ornate chairs and vintage desks were older than I was.

My fingers brushed the tattered edges of a map sprawled across a dining room table.

Hendersonville. It took a moment before I recognized the layout of Firefly.

“Once upon a time—” I jumped at the voice. “—we went by Hendersonville.” I couldn’t figure out where she had been hiding. Did she jump out of an old captain’s trunk, or had she been tucked behind a hand-carved headboard?

Gladys couldn’t be more than a hundred pounds, and that included the thick navy-blue sweater. She embraced the snow-white hair, letting it fall along her shoulders. Much like the shop, I’d describe her as vintage. Not old, but from a long-forgotten time.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

I recognized the skeptical tone and narrowed eyes. The next words out of my mouth would set the tone for our conversation. Gladys wanted to know if I belonged to the greater tribe of Maine.

“I grew up in Bangor.”

Her thin lips turned upward in a smile. I had passed the test with flying colors. She moved to my side, inspecting the map. With a wrinkled finger, she pointed to a spot on the map showing a large field.

“We’re here. All of this would eventually become the green.” I followed the road north, wondering where Seamus’s house might be.

“Things have changed a little.”

“They always do,” she said. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye.

I recognized bartender magic. Every night, I summoned the ability to read a person and predict their needs.

In her younger years, I bet Gladys made plenty of Old Fashions.

I resisted the urge to spill my guts and get into the turbulence of my life.

“I heard you might be able to help me.”

“You heard right.” She stepped back, her hands neatly folded in front of her. “But you’re not here for furniture, are you?”

Yes, she had the skill. “Not today.” I hesitated as I imagined the landslide about to take place. As soon as I opened my mouth, I’d be swept into the small-town madness. Thankfully, my determination to repay Seamus outweighed my fear. “I heard you have your finger on the pulse of the town.”

She chuckled. “That’s the nicest way to say ‘town gossip’ I’ve ever heard.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

The chuckle turned into an outright laugh. “Dear, you don’t get to my age without knowing where the bodies are buried. I am the queen of gossip.” She gave a hair flip, confirming her status.

“So, last night I almost died in the snow.”

“It appears you got better.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I would have frozen if I hadn’t stumbled onto somebody’s farm. He let me crash for the night and gave me a lift to my truck this morning. I want to show my appreciation, but I don’t know jack about the man. Thought you might help?”

Gladys wore the smirk with pride. She moved behind the counter, complete with an old cash register.

Leaning on her elbows, she waited until I came closer.

I wanted to ask if her superhuman abilities meant she already knew his name.

If she did, she said nothing. I think she waited for me to offer up the key piece of information.

“Seamus. He lives?—”

“On the outskirts of Firefly. He lives alone on the farm.” She gave me a quick up and down. “He keeps to himself. Nice enough man, but he’s not what I’d call approachable.” Gladys had a mischievous smile that surely meant trouble. “Single if you’re into mountain men.”

I couldn’t tell if long ago she set her eyes on the man, or if she thought I needed the information. “I got that feeling. The approachable thing, I mean.” I’m sure plenty of men at the bar would have found him attractive, sexy even. Maybe he and the guy who kissed me could start a love story?

“I want to say thanks. I kind of owe him. But what do you get?—”

“Big band.” She spoke the words as if they held all the answers. When I didn’t comment, she shook her head. “He likes big band music. Every so often, he’ll come in here and browse through the records.”

I worked in an environment that ranged from show tunes to techno. My musical tastes were questionable at best. I might need to rethink?—

“I can pull something for you,” she offered.

“Really?”

“I’ll see what I have, and I’ll send it over to Valhalla.”

My eyebrow inched up. “How’d you know I was staying…” She had an all-knowing smile. The queen of gossip already knew about a mysterious stranger wandering throughout the town. It had been just over twenty-four hours, and already I had reached the rumor mill.

“Patrick Holloway.” She used my name as evidence, confirming that she had done her research before I ever set foot in the door. “I just so happen to know Seamus is working at Logan & Son tomorrow.”

I couldn’t imagine the same man who answered his door with a rifle worked in town. How did he interact with other people? Did he give them a smile and nod of the head as he walked by, or did everybody get that gruff exterior? I imagined it’d be a lot of grumbles and scoffs.

“Thanks, Gladys.”

“Now scoot.” She waved me back. “One of us isn’t on vacation.”

Gladys earned her title as the Queen of Gossip. Backing away slowly, I never broke eye contact. I could draw out a person’s story through casual conversation, but Gladys uncovered it through other means. I had met my match and declared her the victor.

It was time to begin my vacation. First order of business, a nap covered in every quilt I could find. Then I’d spend some time reflecting over an early dinner. Or maybe skip the introspection and focus on a good ol’ fashioned burger. Who knew where the day would take me?

I reached the door and escaped.