Which is… not the vibe.
I hug it closer, as if that makes it less obvious, which is definitely how things work.
A man behind the counter looks up. He’s built like a grumpy tree and wearing flannel all over. His eyebrows are permanently arguing with the world.
His gaze flicks from the urn to my face.
Then his eyes narrow.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says. “Harper?”
I freeze mid-step, and my stomach drops as if I missed a stair. “Uh… yes?”
His expression changes subtly. A softness tucked behind all that grump.
“Evie Harper’s…” He pauses, “family?”
I swallow. “Granddaughter.”
A flicker of sadness crosses his face. He turns to stare at the wall behind me, refusing to do emotion in his own store.
Then he clears his throat like a man with a bad relationship with feelings.
“Bill Granger.”
“Aurora,” I manage. “Aurora Harper.”
He grunts like my name is a stamp he’s approving.
“Same eyes,” he mutters. “She used to come in here and act like she didn’t run the whole damn town with her opinions.”
My chest squeezes.
“Oh yeah?”
He smiles. “Your grandmother was a hell of a woman.”
I nod, trying not to show how little I can breathe. This is way harder than I thought it’d be.
“She never talked about herself much,” I just about manage to get out. “Always focused on other people. But… I knew she had her ways about things.”
Bill leans against the counter, crossing his arms, his eyes distant as if remembering something. “She did. The way she’d come into this store with that little laugh of hers, always acting like she didn’t care what anyone thought, but she knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t just Evie Harper around here. Everyone listened when she spoke. She wasn’t afraid to tell people what they needed to hear, even if they didn’t want to hear it.”
I shift the urn in my arms, unsure what to do with this new piece of Evie. I want to gather up all these stories like pebbles from the beach, to finally build a full picture of her.
“There was one time…” he continues. “She came in here late one evening, storming through the door like she owned the place. She was pissed off about something… I can’t remember exactly what, but it was big. I was busy sorting through some boxes in the back, and I heard her yelling from here to the other side of the store.”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Evie, yelling?”
Bill chuckles, the sound rich with nostalgia. “Yeah, hard to believe, huh? But she had a way of riling people up. So anyway, she was arguing with this big shot from the city, some lawyer or something, and she’d come in here to grab a few things, clearly not in the mood for anyone’s crap.”
I can’t help but smile at the thought of my grandmother, so composed in my memory, tearing through a store with fire in her eyes.
Bill continues, his eyes narrowing. “So, this guy’s trying to pull some deal over on her, and she’s having none of it. She walked right up to him and said, ‘You think you can just waltz in here and buy everything you see? This town might be small, but it’s got teeth. And I’ll be the first to bite.’”
I laugh softly, the sound full of warmth and disbelief. “I never imagined her like that.”
Bill’s eyes soften. “Sure enough, about two weeks later, that same guy came back, hat in hand. And guess who he asked for advice on the deal he was trying to pull off?”
