The Mayfair Moon (The Darkwoods Trilogy 1)

I was going to go to the Mayfair house on Saturday, uninvited if that’s what it took.

Saturday morning, I agreed to go with Beverlee and help her at the store. Apparently, Sandy and Marla took vacation time together and Mrs. Finch, the owner, was sick again. Poor Mrs. Finch; she suffered from Diabetes and a host of other illnesses, which kept her sick most of the time. Sandy and Marla were Mrs. Finch’s evil daughters. The whole thing reminded me of a cheap Cinderella story, except Mrs. Finch always treated Beverlee like the daughter she wished Sandy and Marla were. Nathan Mayfair of course also worked there, but he only worked nights as a stocker.

Lucky me, I was nominated to be a fill-in cashier. I had never worked a cash register before, but thankfully, Beverlee was never too far away if I needed her.

I think in a way, Beverlee was preparing me for the working world. I do recall her and Uncle Carl talking one night before Alex left, about driver’s licenses and part-time jobs and such. That didn’t bother me so much though; I actually looked forward to getting a job to pull in some extra spending cash. As cool as Beverlee and Uncle Carl were, I knew they weren’t going to fork out the money to buy me a car. However, my idea of a job had nothing to do with a grocery store. I had been thinking more along the lines of a music or bookstore, or maybe even as a vet assistant.

Fast food and grocery stores were definitely the last resort.

The bell above the front door rang as a customer pushed open the door.

“Good morning, Mrs. Perry,” Beverlee said. She was on the bread aisle at the front of the store, straightening the Little Debbie boxes.

“Mornin’ Beverlee,” said Mrs. Perry. “Ran out of coffee last night, right when I was in the middle of my soaps.”

She was a plump old lady with white-gray hair and she carried a big black handbag pressed gently against her rounded stomach.

“Oh,” she said in a perky, interested sort of way while looking straight at me, “this must be one of your nieces; the good one, I’m sure.”

Beverlee grimaced as she came out of the aisle.

“They’re both good girls,” Beverlee said, hoping I’d believe she never spoke badly of Alex. Really, I wasn’t upset by it.

“Adria, this is Mrs. Perry,” said Beverlee. “She’s been shopping at this store for twenty years.”

Mrs. Perry smiled, causing the lines around her mouth to stretch and deepen. “Twenty-one years next month. Little places like this are the best,” she said. “Those big chains lose sight of people and the people are what matters. Can’t shop at a Driscoll’s and talk to the owner whenever you want. Don’t even know who the owner is. Probably doesn’t even live in the same state.” She added, “How is Mrs. Finch anyway?”

“She’s not well,” said Beverlee. She lowered her voice a bit and added, “I think she’s getting worse.”

“I was afraid you’d tell me that,” said Mrs. Perry. “Well, do give her my well wishes. Tell her I’ll bring her over a Lemon Meringue pie.”

Beverlee had started to say something, but Mrs. Perry put up her wrinkled hand decorated by gaudy rings and said, “Sugar-free, of course.”

Beverlee smiled and nodded.

It was pretty much the same kind of people and the same sort of conversations in the store for the next two hours. I probably met half the town, with the exception of anyone my age. And in a small town like Hallowell when most of the residents come into a small store like Finch’s Grocery, one can safely expect the gossip to be rampant. I thought school was bad. The townspeople, the adults, had us beat in the gossip department. I learned that Marlene Higginbotham was cheating on her husband with some hot construction worker (Beverlee’s words, not mine) who was only here for a few weeks on a job in Augusta. I heard all about Penny Fairweather’s secret night job as a stripper and how Lenny Parsons was g*y and had been hitting on Mark Schultz. Then there was ‘Fat-ass Felicia’ (again, Beverlee’s words), who apparently tried to steal my uncle away from Beverlee.

I didn’t know any of these people, and thought I was better off that way.

Just before lunch, Nathan Mayfair walked into the store. My interest perked immediately.

“Hey Adria,” he said as he walked past the penny candy stand near the front door. “Beverlee around?”

“Yeah, she’s in the back,” I said. “You’re here early, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t pick up my check last night,” he said. “How have you been?”

A customer walked in and I greeted her with a smile. She picked up a handheld basket and disappeared down the meat aisle.

“I’ve been alright,” I said, “nothing new, nothing bad. Things have been pretty normal.”

Nathan looked a lot like Isaac, I noticed. I never had much opportunity to compare the resemblance before.

“Beverlee hooked you into working, I see.”

“Nah, I don’t mind so much,” I said, “I get to hear all the juicy town secrets and learn before it’s too late exactly how I don’t want to be when I get old.”

Nathan laughed. “I hear yah,” he said. “I’m lucky that way; working nights keeps my virgin ears from being molested by all that stuff.”

Where have I seen him before? Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had seen Nathan somewhere else other than at the store. I was sure of it....

“Hey,” I said, “is something going on with Isaac lately?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

I felt foolish and maybe even a little obsessive.

“It’s nothing,” I lied, “I just wondered.”

Beverlee came through the bread aisle, waving an envelope. “I’ve got your check right here,” she said, placing it into Nathan’s hand. “I guess I’ll see you Monday night then.”

“Sure thing,” he answered respectfully.

Nathan said goodbye to me and left with the bell ringing behind him.

“Don’t worry,” said Beverlee, “I’m not going to keep you in here all day. If you want, you can leave around one. I’ve got a few more things to do and I’ll be free to run the register for the rest of night.”

I couldn’t contain the smile as much as I wanted, but Beverlee understood. “Thanks,” I said. “I mean it’s not that I don’t want to help, I just wanted to go to Zia’s later.”

“You’ve been a wonderful help,” Beverlee said. “I can give you a ride there later if you want.”

“That’s okay,” I said, “Harry finally got his transmission fixed and I’ll be catching a ride with him.”

“He’s a nice boy,” said Beverlee. I wasn’t sure if I liked what she was hinting at though. “You two still just good friends?”

My throat suddenly felt dry. “Definitely,” I answered, “best friends actually, so don’t get any ideas.”

She winked and left it alone.

My last hour at the store felt the longest. I was too anxious to get to Zia’s so I made sure to bring what I needed with me to the store so that I could freshen up there. Just before I left, I brushed out my hair, changed my clothes and put on some tinted Chap Stick. I had forgotten to bring my deodorant, so I took some off the shelf in the Health & Beauty aisle and told Beverlee to subtract it from my day’s pay.

“Have you talked to Zia at all?” I said to Harry in the passenger’s side of his car.

“Not since at school yesterday,” he said and then looked over at me. “She doesn’t know we’re coming?”

“No, but that’s alright.”

“What if they’re not home?”

“As many people that live in that house, someone’s sure to be there.”

Not that Harry cared much; he was still trying to win Zia over and any chance to go to her house and blame an unexpected visit on me, he was not going to pass up.

When we pulled up in Zia’s driveway, there were no other cars in it. We sat in the car for a moment, contemplating, neither of us wanting to be the one that got out to knock on the door. In the end, we decided to go together.

No answer.

“Come on, Harry,” I said, stopping him from leaving the porch, “someone has to be here.”

He waited on the second step and I knocked again, louder.

Finally, I heard movement inside. The door clicked and then opened slowly; a face peeked out between it and the frame.

“What do you want?” said a girl.

I couldn’t tell at first, but then recognized her as Daisy Mayfair, the sister of Isaac who Zia actually liked.

“Is Zia or Isaac home?”

She didn’t answer right away, but she stood there looking at us.

“Ummm, this is a bad time,” she said finally. “I’ll tell Zia—“

The door swung open then and a taller girl pushed Daisy out of the way.

“Adria, right?” She was grinning widely.

I hesitated. “...Yes, I’m Adria and this is Harry; friends of Zia.”

“And Isaac?” Her grin just seemed to get bigger.

“Uhhh, yeah, I guess so.”

Harry came back up the steps to stand next to me. I got the feeling he was as uncomfortable as I was now.

The tall girl stepped aside and waved us in. “Please, come on in and ummm, make yourself at home. I’ll get Zia for you.”

Daisy stood with her back against the wall, looking as though she wanted to speak, but dared not to. Warning lights were flashing like crazy in my mind, but I wanted to see Isaac and so I ignored them. The den was not full of people this time, just the tall girl, who went toward the stairs and now Daisy as she made her way to the couch.

I heard muttering in the stairwell above.

“You should leave,” Daisy whispered. “This is a really bad time.”

“But why, what’s going on?” I whispered back.

Daisy kept looking at the stairs, watching for anyone that might be listening, or coming down from them. The worry on her face set me on edge, but still, I wasn’t convinced I had any real reason to leave just yet.

The tall girl came back down the stairs and stopped in the middle. She waved at Harry and me. “Come on up.”

We both looked at Daisy once more before following the tall girl. “She’s in third room on the right,” She said in a low voice.

Harry started to follow me, but the tall girl stopped him. “Can you wait here?” she said. “I think Zia still isn’t fully dressed.”

“Ummm, sure,” he agreed.

I left him with her and headed toward the room, my steps much slower the closer I got. I don’t know why I was so nervous. I heard strange noises coming from the direction I was walking. Whimpering. Whispers. I wasn’t sure of anything. I could hardly make anything out. The door in question was cracked just barely and at first, I knocked upon it very lightly. “Hello?” I said, but there was no answer.

I went ahead and carefully pushed open the door.

My heart drowned in my stomach. I think I was dizzy enough for a few seconds that I could have lost my balance. Isaac lay across his bed with Rachel curled up next to him; her head pressed against his bare chest, her long, graceful fingernails tracing the contours of the muscles over his ribcage.