The Tale of Halcyon Crane by Wendy Webb Read Free Book Online Page B

secret-society enclave. I was every inch the trespasser, thoroughly scrutinized. My skin was crawling with the force of their stares. What was their problem? Just a few weeks ago, this town had been awash with tourists. Now, suddenly, these people were stunned by the sight of a stranger in their midst?
    I cleared my throat in an effort to let the man behind the counter know I was standing there. He finally saw me and broke the uncomfortable silence.
    “Let me guess.” He winked at me, deliberately talking loudly enough for the gang in the corner to hear. “You’re in, of all places, a coffee shop, for a latte.” The group got the message and reluctantly turned back to their own conversation, their eyes, mercifully, off my back.
    “That’s amazing.” I grinned. “You must be psychic. I am indeed here for a latte. Skim. With a half shot of almond and a half shot of chocolate.” Why not treat myself on such a day?
    As he heated the milk for my drink, I remembered the name I saw above the door as I came in. “You must be Jonah?”
    “I am indeed.” He handed me the steaming mug. “And you?”
    “I’m Hallie James, a stranger in these parts.”
    Jonah let out a laugh, which caused several heads to turnin my direction again. “Drink’s on me. Welcome to the island, Hallie James.”
    “Are you sure?” I asked him, fishing a twenty out of my purse and brandishing it in his direction.
    “Absolutely.” He nodded. “Island tradition. The first outof-season visitor of the year gets a free coffee.”
    Jonah was about my age, maybe a few years younger, with shoulder-length blond hair and a sunny disposition to match. His face exuded a warmth I was grateful for.
    “Thanks.” I smiled, grabbed the newspaper that was sitting on the counter, and headed to a table as far as I could get from the locals.
    Windows looking out onto the harbor lined the back wall of the shop. As I buried my face in the headlines, I imagined it must be quite a sight here in the summertime, sipping iced coffee while the ferries chugged into port and colorful sailboats floated languidly by. The picture it painted in my mind was so real and vivid, it was almost as though I had seen it before. That thought caught in my throat. Maybe I had! I wondered how long this coffee shop had been in business.
    Roughly two minutes had passed since the last time I checked my watch. I tried to immerse myself in last week’s news (the paper was old), but I couldn’t quiet my racing thoughts enough to read. What would I learn at my meeting with William Archer?
    The local welcome wagon pushed their chairs away from the table and began to drift out of the shop. As some of them called their goodbyes to Jonah, one woman stopped at my table, smiling. She looked as though she were baring herteeth. “I’m so sorry we all stopped and stared when you came in,” she said. “It must have made you terribly uncomfortable. It’s just that we don’t get many tourists this time of year and—well, you looked so familiar, it took us all aback.” I nodded, not knowing how to respond. She added, still smiling that oddly aggressive smile, “I’m afraid we were quite rude.” She waited, then, for me to say something.
    “No offense taken.”
    She thrust her hand in my direction. “I’m Isabel Stroud.”
    I took her palm in mine. “Hallie James.” I managed a smile.
    “So, Hallie,” she began, “what brings you to Grand Manitou in the off-season?”
    These are exactly the people Mr. Archer was warning me against,
I thought,
those who might have some objection to me being—well, me
. “I’m here on business. I’ll be here all week, actually.”
    “Wonderful.” She was still smiling. “We’ll see you around town, then.”
    I was sure she would. I got the distinct feeling that she and her cronies would be watching me closely, and not with a neighborly eye. As the door shut behind her, it was as though a burst of fresh air entered in her stead.
    Jonah busied