Winter Embers [ Book 2 ]

Chapter Three

          Three interlocking snowflakes.

          Reaching out, Claire was surprised to find the stone was warm to the touch.

          "Excuse me, miss?"

          Startled, Claire rose quickly, turning simultaneously, to face the speaker. It was the groundskeeper, or at least, Claire assumed it was by his uniform. He was hovering nearby, his wrinkled, gnarled fingers gripping the handle of a push broom. He was old and thin and Claire couldn't help but imagine him to be in his seventies at the very least.

          He offered her a congenial smile and exposed a mouthful of crooked, yellowing teeth.

          "I don't mean to interrupt, but you're the first person I've seen visit this plot in years," he concluded, before adding, "besides Mr. Belmont of course. I guess he has finally come to stay. Are you a relative?"

          "Yes," she said, feeling a dull ache in her heart. "I'm Claire Belmont, these were my grandparents and this is my mother."

          "Ah, yes, of course," the groundskeeper replied with a low chuckle. "Your grandfather kept going on and on about how you were going to be a famous ballerina one day."

          Claire felt a pang of regret lance through her heart, sharp and aching.

          "Not much of a dancer myself," the old man continued, "wife says I was born with two left feet."

          Claire managed a small smile. Her gaze drifting back towards the headstones and the white flowers. The thought triggered another.

          "I don't mean to interrupt Mr..."

          "Redmond, Angus Redmond," the old man replied, "but you can call me Red."

          "Right, Red, do you know where these flowers come from?"

          The old man frowned, "Funny you should ask, I've worked here since I was a young man, a boy even," he began, "and I've seen all matter of exotic flowers, but for the life of me I can't figure out what this particular flower," he motioned to the white flowers decorating her mother's grave, "comes from. I wish I could! I'd make a killing selling it."

          "Why's that?" Claire asked.

          "A flower that blooms all year round, no matter the weather?" Red asked incredulously. Claire supposed she could fault him that, but what happened when no one needed anymore flowers?

          Nevertheless, Claire smiled. "I see your point, Mr. Redmond. Do you perhaps know who put it here? I would like to thank the person, perhaps even ask him where he acquired such a flower."

          Red was quit a moment and Claire couldn't help but wonder if she had come to a dead end.

          "If I had to take a guess, it's probably the man in the long, brown coat."

          "A man came here?" Claire asked, unable to keep her frown from growing deeper.

          "Yes," Red replied casually, "This one fellow shows up about once a year, around this time actually. Strange fellow. Never says a word, don't know why, and stands there for at least an hour before disappearing again. I tried to talk to him once, ignored me completely, strange fellow that one."

          Claire felt her heart squeeze as her chest grew tight. Whoever was coming here was coming from Oria, but why? What reason did this man have to visit her mother's grave? Why leave flowers?