ONE
LONDON
Ethel and Bernice aren’t being as quiet as they think they are.
“You know what I heard from James? Apparently that boy did three years in Sheridan for smuggling…” Ethel lifts her index finger and thumb to her lips and mimics taking a puff. “You know.”
Bernice gasps, but quickly recovers and shakes her head. “That’s not what I heard from Billy. He said it was three years in Tacoma formanslaughter.”
She hisses the last word. There’s more jaw-dropping and pearl-clutching as they both murmur their shock.
I fight the urge to grin—or laugh—biting down on my lip instead. Unfortunately, I’m not quick enough. I snort. Only, it’s comes out sounding less of a snort and more like a baby seal honking for its mom.
The women turn toward me, abandoning the books I just put out on the “new arrivals” shelf yesterday.
“What was that?” Ethel asks.
“Did you say something Miss Kathryn?”
“Sorry.” I shake my head, cheeks flushing. “It’s just… my allergies.”
Their eyes narrow in unison.
“Is that so?” Bernice asks. “Because from the look and sound of it…”
“You know something,” Ethel says.
“Of course she knows something. She’s the town librarian.”
“And the postmaster.”
“Not to mention, this is the town’s visitor. There’s not a person—neighbor or guest—who doesn’t walk through these doors at least once a week.”
What they’re saying without saying is… I hear things. In the year since I moved to Swift Mountain to run the library/post office/visitor center, I’ve heard a lot of things.
Like, I was the first person to hear when a curvy model from New York got amnesia and ended up falling for the firefighter who rescued her.
I heard when Cliff and Sophie had a one-night stand after his sister’s wedding and ended up making a baby.
I was even one of the first to know when Remington and Jade started knocking boots in secret so her brother wouldn’t find out.
But no one fosters more gossip and intrigue than Troy Taylor. Also known as the owner of PO Box 309, the voracious reader of science fiction, and pretty much the only person in town who didn’t sign up for our annual Secret Santa exchange.
I’ve heard the rumors the elderly Mary-Kate and Ashley here are swapping, and at least a couple dozen more.
He was involved in an international coal smuggling ring.
Some say he even spent three years in prison overseas.
And, my personal favorite: He betrayed a crime syndicate and had to disappear during the trial when he turned state’s witness.
Each theory is more fantastic than the last. But there’s one common thread to all of the gossip: Terrible Troy Taylor is bad news.
The funny thing is, for all the stories floating around Swift Mountain, hardly anyone actually knows him.
No one sees him around town unless he absolutely has to be there. He keeps to himself up on the mountain in that old cabin near the peak, only coming down every couple of weeks for supplies and whatever stack of books he requested through interlibrary loan.
He mostly gets science fiction or the occasional western.