“I guess it does but this place, it doesn’t really belong to just one person. It’s bigger than that.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and gives me a shy look that has me encouraging her.
“Tell me more. Who does this place belong to then?”
“The town,” she says. Her eyes stray to the grandfather clock and she smiles. “This was the first home built outside of town. My great-great-great-great grandmother Isla Martinez helped found the town. Vesper Point wouldn’t be here without her and she loved Vesper Point so much that this place,” she extends a hand out to sweep over the foyer, “this home became Vesper House. So it’s not just mine. It belongs to Vesper Point even if they-” she stops short, the hand she’s holding gets tucked back by her side and she shakes her head.
“Sorry.”
“For what?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Sometimes, I sound like a whack job about this place. I-I’m alone too much.”
“It’s a historic place. I saw the plaque outside,” I say with a nod towards the front door and make a note of Maris being alone. Alone is good. Alone means she’s all fucking mine. It’s true. I did see the Historic Places boasting her family’s hand in Vesper Point’s origin. Her family came from money and from the looks of how well she’s maintained her familial home, they still do. I look her over with new eyes. Interesting, beautiful,andrich. She’s as unexpected a treat as Father Paretti was.
“I think you did Isla justice with what you said. You shouldn’t stop yourself. You’re good with your words.”
Maris ducks her head. Her dark hair moves over her shoulder in a silky fall. I wonder what her hair feels like. Soft as silk, I bet.
“I work at the paper, so I like to think I’m okay with them at least, but thank you.”
“You work at the paper?”
The Vesper Point Call.
I remember the small office across from the burger joint. I saw the light on last night when I was walking downtown and wondered who it might be. Was it Maris that had been working? Is that why she was in the graveyard so late at night to kill?
“I do,” she says and motions for me to follow her. “I can make us a cup of coffee if you have time?”
“I always have time for coffee.”
Maris hesitates in the hallway entrance and looks back at me. “I would love the company.” Her smile is tentative but hopeful. She wants me to stay. “But only if I’m not keeping you from something important. I know you’re probably busy at the hospital.”
I didn’t have a single appointment booked today at the hospital and I’m sure if I had gone in, the only thing that would have kept me busy was Liz sniffing around me for a date but Maris doesn’t need to know that.
“I didn’t have enough this morning if I’m honest, so you’re really doing me a favor.” I’m not lying. I only had one cup while I did my paperwork and another cup just didn’t make it on my list with the vigil I held watching Vesper House. She doesn’t look convinced. She’s tense, eyes darting past me to the door and then back again while she twists her hands together like she’s trying to stop herself from reaching out to touch me. Maris opens her mouth to speak and then decides against it and closes it again.
What the fuck has been going on in Vesper Point that she’s this nervous about believing that I’d choose to have coffee with her?
Instantly, the little charming seaside town is on my shit list. A woman as beautiful as Maris, one as connected to the founding of this town, should have visitors. She should be in a busy newspaper office with a team, there should be some idiot local who thinks they’re meant for each other just because they made mud pies as kids but there’s none of that.
Instead, the house she claims belongs to the town sits silent and dark and Maris is here alone. She’d said Father Paretti had been nice to her but she’s killed two men that I know of.Shit. Did I eat the only person that was nice to her in this place?
Fuck. I bet I did.
I clear my throat. “There’s nothing more important than getting to know my neighbor, especially in a place like this.”
Maris’ brow furrows but at least she starts walking again. “What do you mean like this?”
I have to tread carefully. Maris loves this place. I heard it when she talked about Vesper House, but even so, it’s easy to tell the girl is lonely.
I look around the hallway as we walk. Family pictures and portraits line the walls. Several generations of Maris’ line stareback at us. Some with smiles, others with a quiet stoicism and shrewdness that I know lives in Maris too.
“I mean to say that Vesper Point seems like the kind of place that’s quiet, and the quiet is good but without good company it can be…” my voice trails off and Maris finishes the sentence for me like I knew she would.
“Lonely.”
I tuck my hands in my pockets and nod. “Yes, that’s it. I haven’t had a lot of time for company lately, not with the way my schedule was in Seattle. It’s a shock slowing down and realizing that I’m suddenly, very, alone.”
“I can understand that,” she says, leading me into the kitchen. Until now this room has been the one I’ve seen the most of. I kept watch, pretending to do dishes for two whole hours today hoping Maris would make her appearance. I’d used the time waiting for Maris to conduct a thorough study of the space from my window.
