"What's his problem?" Jo asked as the bell over the door jingled, signaling Ryker's exit.
"His family sort of takes care of the trails and the wildlife in the area," Seth said, "He just gets upset when tourists leave the marked trails because there are a lot of ravines and old mining holes. They used to dig for micah and other minerals around here, and there's some places where they still pan for gold." He waved a hand in the air, as if brushing away her worries. "He's got a point, if you do decide to take up hiking. Staying on the trails is your best bet to stay safe."
"Got it..." Jo said.
Sounded like that sure was one passionate nature-loving family. Or maybe they had a secret cave full of gold around here that all the locals were protecting. Jo had to suppress a grin. She'd been looking at the book jackets of too many of her grandmother's dusty mystery novels apparently.
"So you ready to check out?" Seth asked, gesturing at the bolt cutters.
Oh, yeah. Jo had almost forgotten she'd come up here to ask a question. She had momentarily been distracted by the hiker hater with the Stare. "Actually, I was going to ask if you thought this was my best bet for getting an old padlock off. I read online that using compressed air is another option..."
Seth nodded, all business now. "Both methods should work, and the cost difference isn't too much. It's up to you, really, though if you think you'll have to be cutting a lot of locks, the bolt cutter might be more practical."
"I'll go with this then," Jo said, tapping the bolt cutter. She hadn't fully explored everything on the property, so who knew what else was all locked up. Maybe she had her own secret treasure hoard stashed away somewhere. She set the basket on the counter along with the bolt cutter and caught what looked suspiciously like a small smile from Seth before he started ringing up her purchases.
"I swear, all the locks are on my property," Jo grumbled.
Seth held his hands up, protesting his innocence. "I don't ask questions."
"Well, in case that Ryker guy does. Not that it's his business," she said. Maybe his family took care of the public lands or whatever, but her property was her own. Or, well, her dad's, really.
This time Seth smiled openly, but it was friendly, not teasing or unkind. Kind of like a dad-type smile. Though maybe that was just because she'd been thinking about her dad, and the comparison had jumped right in there. "We're friendly folk here, but we also respect privacy. You've nothing to worry about on that score--even if we are a small town. There's gossip, of course, but people won't pry too much." He put the cleaning supplies in a bag for her. "Which, if no one's said it yet, welcome to Jackson's Hollow, by the way."
"Thank you," Jo said, in response to both the welcome and the assurance of privacy. She took the bag from him after swiping her card. "Any recommendations on first places to visit in town?"
"Well, it's hard to pick one neighbor over another, but it doesn't hurt to share what everyone knows anyway. Ellen's Soda Shop is the best place for ice cream and the Hollow Grill is the best place for a quick bite to eat, especially if you're craving a good burger."
Jo filed that away mentally--both helpful bits of information. "Any good coffee places?" she asked. With a community college and a small tourist scene, there had to be at least one place, right?
"I'm not much of a coffee drinker, but the wife likes what they serve at Ye Old Goods--it's mostly an antique shop with a few other random things, but there's a coffee bar at the front too."
Antiques and coffee. Well. That wasn't a combination she'd encountered before.
Her surprise must've been plain on her face because Seth chuckled. "Ms. Blue took a barista class with her granddaughter one weekend and about a month later the coffee bar showed up in Ye Old Goods. Guess it did well enough that she decided to keep it going."
This was getting better and better. "I'm definitely going to have to check it out," Jo said. "Thank you for the tips. And the help with the bolt cutters," she said, grabbing them as well.
"No problem. Have a nice day, Jo."
Already on a first name basis with the hardware store owner. Or future hardware store owner.
Technically there was that Ryker guy, too...but that didn't count.
Back out in the Subaru, she decided to stop by the antique coffee place, intent on getting a mocha or even just a plain coffee before going back up to the Scott place. Oh great, was she also going to start referring to her own house as the Scott place or the old Scott homestead? It had been her grandparents before they were moved to an assisted living place. She had a few memories of visiting but not enough to paint a full picture of what the place used to be like when it wasn't covered in dust and cobwebs.
Downtown Jackson's Hollow was small and quaint, with a few storefronts that sold crafts, home goods, furniture, and a few other speciality shops. There was a little cider bar and a used bookstore called The Bookend, plus a candles, soaps, and other sundry items place that she didn't catch the name of as the Subaru rolled by. Jackson's Hollow was small but not so tiny it didn't have anything at all to do, which would make it survivable for as long as she lived here. Especially because now it seemed like hiking might be off the table...nah, she wasn't going to let some local mountain boy keep her from hiking. Being intimidated by big guys wasn't her style.
She spotted the coffee sign as she drove by; it was in the shape of an old blue and white camping coffee pot, a small drip of coffee dangling from a spout as if it was being poured. Jo pulled into a downtown parking lot that would hold about eight cars, max. She passed a bike rack at the entrance of the parking lot; it had been partially crocheted in purples and pinks, and there were a couple weathered pom-poms hanging from strings. Looked like there was maybe a yarn-bomber in the area.
The bell over the antique shop door chimed as she stepped in. The place was packed with old furniture, quilts, doll house sets, dishware, porcelain dolls, musty books and more. From the ceiling hung Edison bulbs and chipped teacups, and big wash pots and kitchen utensils were nailed to the walls.
To the right of the front door was the coffee shop area and check-out counter. A few tables and chairs, all mismatched, were scattered over a mosaic floor. Soft indie folk music played over a hidden speaker system, almost drowned out by the quiet chatter from the few patrons who were sitting around.
An older woman was working at the counter, a long grey and brown braid trailing down her back as she began to grind coffee, the sound temporarily covering everything else. That was probably Ms. Blue, if she had to guess.
Jo made her way through the antique maze, skirting around a cradle with soft lacy blankets and a pie cabinet. Ms. Blue looked up as she stepped to the counter, glancing up at the menu drawn on a big chalkboard. It was green, and she would've bet that it had been used in a classroom once upon a time. She had seen blackboards like it in old 80s movies.
"Hey, there, can I help you?"
"Can I get a medium iced mocha?" Jo asked.
"Sure thing," the lady said, "It's four bucks, even."
Not the worst price for a cold drink. Jo paid and then Ms. Blue started fixing the drink while Jo inspected some of the nearby antiques.
There were some old newspapers stacked on one of the little cabinets nearby--Jo picked one up out of curiosity. This one had been printed back in the late 70's, when her dad would've still been a little kid. There was some news about the local high school football team winning a game and...oh wow, a wolf attack. That's right, her dad had mentioned to be careful if she went out hiking because there were some wolves in the area. She'd asked about bears and he said there were a few, but they weren't around as much. Jo scanned the article more--it looked like there was actually some question as to what this man had been attacked by, but the assumption was wolves due to the presence of a pack in the area. Hmm. She wondered if her dad remembered this incident.
She scanned through a few of the other headings--something about the county fair coming up, an advice column on gardening, and a few pieces about local political decisions. Well, that was sort of neat.
"Jo?"
The mocha was ready. Jo put the paper back and quickly went to take it from Ms. Blue. "Thank you," she said, taking a sip. "Oh, this is really good."
"Glad to hear it." Ms. Blue beamed at her, and Jo had the feeling she'd just won another local ally. Talk about friends in high places--the hardware store owner and the local barista. Life might be okay here.
Ms. Blue tilted her head a little, studying her, and Jo thought she knew what was coming before the question was even asked. "You wouldn't happen to be Jo Scott who just moved into the Scott place, would you?"
Jo hid a smile by titling the cup to take another sip. "Yes, ma'am, that'd be me."
Ms. Blue nodded her head. "Thought so. You look like your father, around the eyes. Same shade of brown."
"You knew him?" Jo asked. This was the first time anyone had mentioned him, though they all seemed to know her grandparents. She was starting to wonder if he'd done something terrible by leaving the town.
"Sure," Ms. Blue said. "I'm a bit older than him, but this town isn't that big. You tend to know most of the locals even if you're not close to them."
"I've noticed everyone here seems to know each other, at least everyone I've met so far."
"Nope, you're right," Ms. Blue chuckled as she cleaned out a small pot. "It might drive you crazy sometimes, everyone knowing each other's business, but we've all got each other's backs too. You'll see when you settle in. This can be your home, too, if you let it."