Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
He has a good eye, this Lee.
That’s why Margot loves his work, I suppose.
“What about you?” Lee asks, stopping in front of me, separated by another table featuring his ceramic wares. “Did you also come here as a kid?”
“No. First time in Sully Bay, actually.” I turn the mug over again, keeping my eyes riveted to it. There’s a faint signature scratched into the bottom. “I’ll take three of these. Black, red, and that dark-green color.” I nod at the row of mugs in front of me.
“Excellent choices.” He takes the black mug back and starts wrapping it up with the others in thick brown paper. “You planning on hanging around here long?”
My eyes narrow. My blood stings.
It couldn’t be fucking clearer he’s after Margot.
I fold my arms, already regretting the purchase.
“Maybe. We’re flexible with the kids just starting school,” I lie.
So what if I emphasize kids?
Let him think whatever he wants.
From the way his face falls, he must think she’s off-limits, and that’s goddamned fine and dandy.
“Oh, yes. Playing it by ear, huh? It must be nice for the young ones this time of year. I could never sit still in a classroom, especially with big piles of leaves to romp through.” He holds up the card reader with the amount on the screen, offering a tight smile.
I don’t even look at the screen as I tap my card.
“Guess so,” I say flatly.
“Hey, Lee, can I get a few of these bowls?” Margot interrupts, pointing to the autumn-colored dishes.
He quickly moves over to wrap them up for her.
There’s a lull in the conversation as she pays, and we accept our paper bags. They’re nondescript, no logo on the side or any fancy branding.
At least Lee stops leering as he checks her out.
“Your work shines,” I say, just to show him there are no hard feelings. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to find anything this high quality here. That’s getting rare, even back in New York.”
For a second, his eyes glint.
“Handcrafted will always be king, my friend. Nothing will ever change that. The machines won’t come for ceramics for a while. I hope I’m dead by then if they do.”
Huh?
Margot steps back, flashing me an odd look. She’s as shocked by the sharp edge in his voice as I am.
Every word drips bitterness, and there’s this odd anger in his eyes as he looks back at us.
Then he rakes a hand over his face, smoothing it away like he’s peeling off a mask.
“My apologies,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’ve been reading about a lot of AI platforms replacing artists lately. It’s just sad. Remember when we always heard technology would take on the hard work and free our creativity? Now we’re living the opposite, more with every passing day.”
“Unfortunately. Hate that shit,” I agree, feeling a growing knot in my gut.
Lee stares right through me.
Just a little too long for my liking.
Then again, aren’t the best artists usually a little off?
Margot frowns next to me, staring like she’s trying to decipher coded words that aren’t there.
“Are we ready?” she asks eagerly.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I say.
She doesn’t complain as we usher the kids back through the crowd.
After a quick stop for some fresh apple cider at another stand, we head back to the vehicle, and I deliberately forget about AI and the bullshit it brings.
7
HOME RUN (MARGOT)
Afew days pass and I’m no closer to finding whatever big secret PopPop might’ve left in this house.
That cuts deeper than it should.
It feels like I’m failing him on the last great scavenger hunt he’ll ever leave behind.
I imagine his ghost in the corner, shaking his head, his white hair waving as he smiles sadly and whispers, “Try harder, little May.”
Try.
That’s all we’ve been doing.
Oh, sure, the metal detector and thermal scanner did confirm there’s nothing unusual tucked behind any walls or floors. And the kids have been having a grand old time playing with them when we’re not using them.
Sophie took off with the metal detector the second we were done, with Dan close behind her.
They’re convinced they’ll find some lost Viking gold along the lakeshore.
Dan gave me a whole rundown on how ancient Norsemen made it to Canada and northern Maine isn’t ‘that far’ in his humble opinion.
I actually wish their curiosity and innocence could help me.
I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything left for me to find.
After the last home inventory, Holden packed up the few remaining valuables to bring back to Portland for safekeeping before this place turned into a short-term rental. Nothing notable left behind besides a couple miscellaneous art pieces and a china set.
But what if something was taken that should’ve stayed?
Then again, I’m positive Gramps knew that could happen after he died.
He wouldn’t leave anything out in the open that could be grabbed by his loyal and meticulous servant or anyone else if he wanted me to find it.