Page 4 of Snatched By the Scarecrow

“Oh well, I’m happy to be of service then, I’m Harper,” I say, putting my hand in hers.

Her grip is tight, and the shake she gives me is vigorous. When I pull away, the pair is still smiling at me—no, grinning—more than just excitement in their eyes, but I can’t say what it is.

I put my hands in the pockets of my jeans, glad Mike didn’t offer his hand, too, and take a step back from the stand.

They stare at me for another too-long moment before Olive says, “Sorry, this is weird, huh?”

“A little.”

“Like I said, we just don’t get new people often. Obviously we need to work on our people skills or we’ll scare you away.”

“It would take more than that to scare me away.”

Olive sighs dramatically, like I said the best thing ever. “That’s good!”

I look behind them at the menu. My first interaction with townspeople isn’t going how I planned, and I want to get my food and go home. I can restart tomorrow and hope things go better with whomever I meet next.

“So, what do you suggest?” I repeat my earlier question.

“Right!” Mike says, looking me up and down. “You look like someone who likes spice.”

“Excuse me?”

Olive elbows him. “What he means is, maybe you’d like our jalapeno and cheddar corn dog? It’s got a nice kick to it.”

I cock my head at the man now looking at me sheepishly. Does he know me from what I do for a living? No, he can’t. I hide my face online, so that’s impossible. But what a fucking odd thing to say.

“Sorry,” he points to my hair and septum piercing. “It’s just your style,” he says as if he can read what I’m thinking. “Your vibe is way cooler than most people here. Half the population is over the age of sixty.”

So much for not standing out too badly. I clear my throat. “Right. I think I’m going to go look and see what else is around.”

“Wait!” Olive squeaks. “I’m so sorry, we’re leaving such a bad impression.”

When I don’t say anything, she continues, “Whatever you want is on the house. I’ll even throw in a hot apple cider. I pressed the apples myself!”

“Oh my god, Harper, is that you?”

I turn toward the feminine voice, expecting to see someone I know, but it’s most definitely not. The short woman has long jet-black hair that only amplifies her pale complexion and sharp features.

When she gets closer to me, she tugs me into a hug and puts her mouth to my ear. “Just go with it.”

I force a smile on my face and pull back. “It’s me!”

“You know our new guest, Ava?” Olive asks.

Ava…

The woman who I now know as Ava wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “I’m her landlord.”

Ah. That’s where I know that name from. I never spoke to her on the phone, just email correspondence when I found the place on a rental website.

“Oh!” Mike exclaims. “That’s really, really, great.”

I turn my gaze to him. Everything this man says is weird. And now I’m freaked out that he knows where I live. That both he and Olive do.

“Why don’t you make Harper a regular corn dog and hot cider, I’m going to show her around. Is that okay with you?” Ava asks me.

Her smile is bright and friendly, and I smile back at her despite myself. I obviously don’t know her, but if I’m going off this interaction alone, she puts me much more at ease than Mike and Olive.