Searching for Yesterday by Valerie Sherrard Read Free Book Online Page B

myself to sound pleasant. “We were looking for some information on the store that was here before the flower shop opened up. A craft place.”
    â€œWhat kind of information?”
    â€œWell, the name of the owner, if you happen to remember it,” I said. I hoped that she’d want to prove her memory was good — that might motivate her to tell us even if she wasn’t inclined to be helpful.
    â€œWhat for?” she asked.

    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œWhat do you need to know that for?” she repeated. Her eyes narrowed.
    â€œI’m trying to find someone who knew my mother,” Annie said. “She used to work at the craft store.”
    â€œOh yeah? What was your mother’s name?”
    That was too much for me. The nerve of her, expecting Annie to offer personal information when she was too snooty to give us a store owner’s name.
    â€œWhat do
you
need to know that for?” I asked, repeating the question she’d posed to us.
    She gave me a long, hard look. Then she said, “A smart mouth, huh? Well, I’d say it’s about time you girls left, wouldn’t you?”
    We left. As soon as we hit the sidewalk I turned to Annie. “I’m really sorry,” I said. “I messed that up badly.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. She wasn’t going to help us anyway.” Annie smiled to prove she wasn’t upset. Then she asked, “So, what do we do next?”
    â€œWe’ll ask the people in the stores on either side,” I said. “They’re likely to know who owned the craft shop.”
    There was a place on the left called Inkpen & Harmony, which we tried first. It turned out to be an insurance office. There were three desks in an open room but only one was occupied — by a man who was on the phone. He looked over, smiled, held a finger up to show us he’d just be a minute, and pointed us to some chairsalong the wall. We’d hardly sat in them when he finished the call.
    â€œSo, what can I do for you ladies?” he said from across the room. He motioned us toward him and we obediently moved from the chairs by the wall to a couple in front of his desk.
    â€œChris Inkpen,” he said, introducing himself. He shook our hands and when we told him our names. He said, “Nice to meet you Shelby. Nice to meet you too, Annie.”
    â€œWe’re not here to buy insurance,” I said, feeling a little guilty for wasting his time when he was being so nice.
    â€œGreat!” he answered. “It’s about time I had a break for a few minutes.”
    We explained what we wanted to know.
    â€œHmm. Can’t say I know that,” he said, tilting his chair back and putting his hands behind his head. “But hang on a sec. I can probably find out.”
    He pulled a phone from his shirt pocket and pressed a button. A few seconds later, someone answered and Chris asked for the name. He gave us a thumbs-up and leaned forward to make some notes.
    â€œHere you go, ladies. I wish everything was as easy as that,” he said, passing us the paper. “It seems the previous owner’s daughter took over the place from her mother and turned the craft store into a flower shop. I’ve written it down, but my boss said the daughter —her name is Kayla Fulton — should be able to answer any questions you have about when her mother owned the place, because she worked there then, too.”
    Hearts sinking, we thanked him for his help and left. Standing on the sidewalk a moment later we looked at each other in dismay.
    â€œLet’s just forget it,” Annie said. “What are the chances we’d have found out anything from her anyway?”
    â€œWe can’t forget it,” I said, though I really wanted to agree with her and leave. “That woman almost certainly worked with your mother at the craft store. We’ve got to go back in there and at least try.”
    Annie