Rattled by Lisa Harrington Read Free Book Online Page A

sweetly.
    â€œHumph.”
    I glanced out the front window. The cars were stopped because the light was red . I had to press my lips together to keep myself from pointing this out. There was just something about this woman that made me want to pick a fight every single time.
    We were moving again. I instructed everyone to keep their eyes open for a parking meter. We had to circle the block a couple times. I could tell Mrs. Swicker was getting crankier with every corner turned. Megan and I erupted into screams when we saw a convertible pull out of a spot.
    â€œThere, Mom, there!” Megan pointed wildly.
    Mrs. Swicker hushed us and parallel parked the van.
    As we made our way down the hill towards the waterfront, I tried to stay upbeat and enthusiastic, pointing out historical buildings and stuff like that. I really felt like we were out on a day pass with our probation officer.
    Sam and Megan seemed to find everything interesting. Mrs. Swicker didn’t comment one way or the other, which was fine by me.
    I pointed out a giant display all about the Bluenose and Sam and Megan pressed their faces to the glass, soaking up every word.
    â€œLydia. Where can I get a coffee?” Mrs. Swicker snapped impatiently.
    Wordlessly, I raised my arm and pointed to a nearby coffee stand.
    About to make my way over to Sam and Megan, I stopped. Mrs. Swicker was dumping packets of sugar into her coffee, but that wasn’t all. I watched as she looked around, pulled something silver out of her purse, unscrewed the top, and quickly dumped it in her coffee.
    I pretended I didn’t notice anything unusual, like what was I going to say? So when Mrs. Swicker re-joined us, I continued giving them the grand tour. We started at one end of the boardwalk, stopping to check out various sail boats and even a couple of private yachts. We poked in and out of shops and stopped for ice cream. At the other end of the boardwalk was the museum. I loved going there, especially the section devoted to the Titanic . I had a bit of an obsession with that disaster and I blathered on until I noticed Sam and Megan’s eyes glazing over. Mrs. Swicker looked like she was having a cavity filled.
    I wanted to end at my favourite store. It was a gift shop filled with everything Nova Scotian.
    â€œHere it is. You’ll love this place,” I said.
    Walking through the door, we were hit in the face with wonderful gift shop smells: soaps, candles, maple fudge. It was heavenly. I stood in the centre of the store, taking a moment to just breathe it all in. Sam and Megan immediately gravitated to a table covered with candies, fudge, and anything else that could possibly be made from maple sugar. Even Mrs. Swicker seemed to have found something of interest at a display in a far corner of the store.
    I could never quite figure out what it was about these touristy gift shops that somehow made me have no issue whatsoever with forking over $12.95 plus tax for a bagpiper Christmas ornament that was basically made out of an oldfashioned clothespin, a black pompom, and a scrap of Nova Scotia tartan. They must put something in those scented candles. I wondered if mind control had a smell.
    â€œWould you like your ornament in a gift box?” the clerk asked me.
    â€œYou bet,” I said, determined to get my money’s worth one way or another.
    Everyone else was still busy looking around, so I wandered over to look at a case of pewter charms.
    There seemed to be a flood of new people into the shop. I knew there was a cruise ship in. We’d seen part of it from the boardwalk. They all looked fresh off the promenade deck. Big floppy hats, big sunglasses, big American accents. I craned my neck to check on Sam and Megan.
    Megan was standing on her tippy toes, waving a giant stuffed lobster at me. I gave her a thumbs up.
    The noise level inside the tiny shop seemed to be increasing. I thought about waiting outside, but a nearby shriek grabbed my