Farming 1

First she marked out her garden plot in the open area to the side of the cabin. Less distance to carry water from the pump. There were a couple saplings, shoulder high, that she cut down and dragged to the pile by the porch. There were a few more, knee high, which she didn’t bother to cut down, she just used the shovel and dug them up roots and all.

Lexie hadn’t planned any kind of waste pile, so she carried them to the edge of the woods and tossed the small trees in, root balls and all.

Next she put a stick in each corner marking the area of the garden. She thought six by six meters should do it. Then she grabbed the pointy shovel. “I guess the first thing to do is get rid of the grass?” That seemed reasonable, so she set about using the sharp edge of the tool to cut through the layer of grass and roots. She cut it away in 30 or 40 centimeter squares and picked them up, shook off as much loose dirt as she could, and piled the chunks of grass to the side.

“I’ll have to move that later. Man I wish I had a wheelbarrow.”

Her hands were beginning to chap as the dirt sucked the moisture out of her skin, and she dusted them off on her jeans. “I should have gotten some gloves,” Lexie remarked to no one.

Two hours later…

The ugly blister on the soft flesh of her hand between her thumb and forefinger throbbed. The spade she was using to cut and lift the chunks of grass, rocks, and whatever roots remained from the saplings she’d cut down was rubbing her hands raw.

She leaned the tool up against the side of the cabin and ran inside. The healing potion she’d bought the other day was in the trunk at the end of the bed, and she pulled it out. Carefully she applied a few drops to the blister. The angry red faded to pink, and the blister shrank, but didn’t disappear. She applied a few more drops and watched as the skin of her hand returned to normal.

Lexie resealed the potion bottle and set it back in the trunk. She would need it later. And she couldn’t afford another.

So far she’d only managed to cut through half the grass layer, and move a third of it, exposing the dark soil underneath. She’d hoped she’d be able to plant today, but the soil was rocky and packed. She’d never had a garden before, but Lexie was pretty sure she recalled something about farmers tilling the soil before they planted. So after she finished carrying away all the grass and big rocks, she was going to have to figure out what that meant.

Tomorrow she would stop at Sprübeck’s for a pair of gloves.

Her hand attended to, Lexie got to her feet and went back to work.

/

Lunch had given her a bunch of energy, the sun was shining, and she was eager to get back and get her garden planted.

She set off toward home, singing to herself as she walked along the trail. The breeze was light, and the sun glinted off the waves. Lexie felt… good. Like really good. For the first time since she’d come to Albatross Bay, she felt like there were possibilities here.

/

After a few more hours work, where, with another break for some potion application, Lexie managed to clear away the rest of the top layer of grass. The sun was setting by then, the orange and red and purple reflecting off the sea. Lexie sat on the porch and drank a mug of cold water from the pump. She’d used her new aluminum bucket to fetch it, and taken the rest inside.

Lexie was exhausted. She couldn’t remember ever being this bone tired in her entire life. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed. Just sitting on the porch, she could feel her eyelids starting to dink. She looked at the dark patch of earth, ready for her garden. “I did that,” she said. “Okay, I have to eat something. And then. Sleeeeeep.”

Inside, Lexie started a fire and opened one of the cans of soup she’d bought at Sprübeck’s, a hearty soup with chunks of potato and white beans in a creamy base. She ate her soup, and half a dozen slices of bread with butter. Then, she took off her farming clothes, hung them neatly on the chair, and crawled into bed.

Lexie was deep asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She barely registered the notifications.

You've acquired the skill: [Sodbuster] Class [Farmer] unlocked!

Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but she was too tired. She’d consider it in the morning.

/

The next morning, Lexie’s eyes popped open. “Did I really unlock a class, or was I dreaming?”

No, it was real. It was sitting there at the edge of her conscious mind like an unanswered question. Yes she thought, and the question vanished.

“Level 1 [Farmer].” She smiled as she pulled on yesterday’s work clothes, and wrinkled her nose at the smell. Dried earth and sweat. Digging was hard work. She would have to see about laundry sooner rather than later. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to do it in a bucket by the pump.

She started her fire and made her coffee, and made a couple jam sandwiches for breakfast.

She needed to plant, but before she did that, she was going to need to pay a visit to the library and see if there was a book on farming.

She looked down at herself, there was no way she could go walk around town in her work clothes, so she pulled out a fresh shirt and pair of jeans.

A few minutes later she was on her way into the village.

It was still early when she entered the village, and the last fishing boats were casting off from the dock and setting out across the harbour to open water. Sprübeck’s was just opening, the elderly Mrs. Sprübeck flipping the sign and unlocking the door as Lexie approached. Good, then she could get her gloves.

Lexie stepped in and grabbed a heavy pair of work gloves, and after a moment, added another pair of cotton gardening gloves. The potion had fixed her hands up last night, but she couldn’t afford to keep using potions for blisters and chapped skin.

“How did your planting go, m’dear?” asked Mrs. Sprübeck as she rang up Lexie’s purchase.

“I haven’t gotten the planting done yet,” Lexie told her, “I’ve got the field dug. I even unlocked the [Farmer] class! I just need to stop in the library for a book on farming, make sure I’m doing it right.”

Mrs. Sprübeck tapped her temple. “Clever girl, but I’d expect no less of Martha’s relation.” She slip the gloves across the wooden counter to Lexie and Lexie handed her a few coins.

“Thanks, Mrs. Sprübeck,” said Lexie, waving at her with the gloves. “These will be a lifesaver.”

The bell over the door jingled on her way out.

Her trip to town had been brief, and she still had most of the day left to work on her planting.

Back at the cabin, Lexie followed the instructions in the book to till the field. She’d made it a little larger than the book recommended, but oh well.

She stopped twice to apply potion to her hands. Even with the gloves, the hard work rubbed them raw. And once for lunch. She didn’t get the planting done, the tilling was even harder than digging up the sod. But the field was ready for the next day.

There was still a bit of daylight when she decided she was done for the day. “I could…” Lexie looked around the cabin.

“What I really want is a shower.” She’d been working hard the past two days, and the last night she was so tired, she’d just fallen into bed.

She was tired tonight too, but she’d sleep better if she were clean.

Lexie boiled enough water to half fill her cleaning bucket, and carried it outside, next to the pump. She had her new bucket as well. She looked around, to be sure she was alone, then stripped off her dirty work clothes. She shook them out to get rid of the worst of the dirt and then dropped them on the grass in a pile beside the blanket she’d brought out to dry herself with. “I really need a towel.”

She mixed some cold water from the pump into the hot water until it was tolerable, and then dunked her washcloth into the bucket. She added a bit of soap to the cloth and scrubbed herself.

The sun was setting and the air was cooling off. Lexie hurried to finish her sponge bath, scrubbed her face, and then rinsed with the rest of the warm water from the bucket.

“I’m definitely going to have to work out some kind of shower.” Her teeth were chattering as she wrapped herself in the wool blanket, then collected her dirty clothes, and the buckets.

She hung the clothes over the porch to air out and left the buckets beside the door. She dressed in her pajamas and heated her last can of soup, a thick spicy tomato soup, and ate it with a big chunk of sourdough bread, sitting on the floor in front of the fire.

Then Lexie crawled into bed under her pile of blankets, and was asleep moments after her head touched the pillow.

Quest to the Lighthouse

She woke up early again, though the day was overcast. A thick mist blew in from the sea.

Lexie lit the fire and hustled out to the porch to grab her work clothes. She brought them in and draped them over a chair by the fire to warm them and dry out the dampness.

She made a coffee and two jam sandwiches with the last of the bread and the last of the jam Louise had brought with the scones.

“I have to ask Louise how to make jam,” Lexie thought. “I should plant some fruit.”

By the time she finished her breakfast, her work clothes were warm and dry, and she dressed quickly and headed back out to her little garden patch. Today was the day she planted!

Lexie gathered up her seeds and grabbed her gloves and a gardening fork. She set to work poking holes and dropping in seeds, then covering them over.

The planting went much faster than prepping the field, and she was done by mid-morning. The only thing she had left to do was water the newly planted seeds.

That, Lexie discovered, was quite a chore. She only had her buckets, and she made dozens of trips between the field and the water pump, filling the buckets and then returning to the field to carefully pour out the water.

It was well past lunch by the time she finished. She pumped an extra bucket of water and set it in the cabin by the fireplace to fill her kettle later, and then collapsed in one of the chairs.

She hadn’t anything to eat in the house, and she was starving after working all morning. Lexie mustered the energy to change her clothes, and then she washed her face and hands at the pump. Then she set off for town. She could have lunch at the diner, and get some more supplies at Spürbecks. She felt the handful of coins in her pocket. She was going to have to earn some money too. Hopefully when the crops came in she could sell the extra, but she still needed to eat before then.

Lunch first.

Lexie had lunch at the diner. A huge grilled cheese sandwich with a pickle and french fries and coleslaw on the side. She celebrated with a chocolate milkshake.

After eating, she stopped by the quest board outside the library. Spürbeck’s request for a delivery was still up. Lexie felt full of energy after lunch. She might as well ask what it was. Maybe she could take it this afternoon if it wasn’t too heavy.

She noticed the mister mittens poster was still up also. “Poor kid,” she said.

Stopping in Sprübeck’s, Lexie took a minute to glance at the seeds.

“Help you find something?” asked Mrs. Sprübeck from behind her. Lexie jumped, she hadn’t heard the old lady approach.

“No, just some groceries today,” said Lexie. She grabbed some more canned soup, easy to heat, in her only pot, and another loaf of bread. She added a block of cheese, a couple tomatoes, and a head of lettuce as well. The produce was all more expensive than she was used to. Must be the island markup, she thought.

“Oh hey, I saw you need someone to take a delivery up to the lighthouse? Is it heavy?” Lexie said.

Mrs. Sprübeck finished ringing up her purchases. “Not too much. Weekly grocery delivery. Are you offering?”

“If I can carry it, I can take it up now.”

Mrs. Sprübeck waved her hand. “You’re young and strong. I’ll just pack it up.”

She pulled a square backpack from behind the counter, and set about packing groceries into it. Milk, eggs, butter, bread, some fruit and vegetables, and more. Lexie perused the garden and farm selection while she waited. There was a big copper watering can sitting on the floor by the window display. She checked the price tag and sighed. It would make watering easier, but it was too expensive to buy right now. Once she had a bit more money put away.

She looked at the bags of fertilizer instead. “Next crop,” she said. It was pretty expensive too.

“Did you say something, dear?”

“Oh. No, I was just looking.”

“The delivery’s packed. The slip is inside on the top. You have Nelly sign and bring it back, and I’ll pay you when you bring back the slip and the empty pack.”

“Got it,” said Lexie. She hoisted the pack. It was lighter than she expected. Probably some kind of enchantment. Not feather light, though. She adjusted the straps until the weight sat a little better, then picked up her own small bag of purchases.

“You know how to get to the lighthouse?” asked Mrs. Sprübeck.

“It’s up the Coast Road past my cabin, right?”

“A good ways past your cabin, yes. But if you stick to the trail, you can’t miss it.”

“I’ll bring the slip back tomorrow, I don’t think I can get there and back before you close up tonight.”

“No,” agreed Mrs. Sprübeck. “Tomorrow is fine. You won’t make it back before I’m sitting down to dinner.”

Lexie set off, carrying her own purchases. The backpack was bulky and on the heavy side, but well designed so that it wasn’t too difficult to carry. She would probably be tired by the time she got to the lighthouse. The sign at the head of the trail, pointing north read: Perception Point 7km.

She walked the two kilometers to her cabin, and took off the pack and set it on the porch for a few minutes while she dropped her own package off in the cabin and had a quick drink of water. Then she set off.

The afternoon sun glinted off the sea and the air was warm, even with the breeze. Lexie hadn’t gone further up the trail than her own cabin–she hadn’t had reason to before now, or the time.

The trail stuck close to the cliff face, though there was often a few meters of tall grass or scrubby coastal pines between the path and the edge. On the other side, the low growth gave way quickly to larger trees and thickets. The geology itself delighted Lexie. As she rounded Tylerds she discovered tiny hidden coves far below, huge boulder where hollow basins held tidal pools, and angular slabs of rock, fallen into jumbles that seemed like giant steps down to the water.

In one spot, there was a boulder near the trail, on a point that jutted out. Waves crashed down below and she could see the point was on a protrusion of rock and far below, at the water level, a cave ran through the rock. Just an opening, caused by hundreds of thousands of years of water, coming in at an angle, slapping at the furthest point in on either side of that wedge of rock, each slap carrying away minuscule pieces of rock, until the waves finally wore through and the water met.

She sat for a few minutes on the boulder, resting her legs and back, looking out at the water. The afternoon sun was behind her, and the base of the cliffs were cast in shadow.

Tanooki City was inland. It had a waterfront on a river, and there were lakes nearby, in parks and forests and even a huge waterfall only a few hours away. But there was no ocean.

After a few minutes, Lexie stood and continued walking.

The trail was easy enough, obviously used enough to keep the worn area from becoming overgrown. “I wonder why whoever lives in the lighthouse can’t come get their own groceries,” she said out loud, keeping herself company.

Lexie wasn’t used to being alone so much. Her days working at the cabin were spent alone, unless she needed something from town. Her nights were spent alone as well. There was no phone. She couldn’t even call a friend back in Tanooki City.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent so much time alone. No wonder she was talking to herself.

It didn’t change the fact that there was no one there to answer. “At least there’s no one to hear me talking to myself.” She sighed, and kicked a rock off the trail.

It wouldn’t be so bad, but the time she spent in her own head was mostly spent worrying. Doubting herself. She wasn’t a farmer. She didn’t know anything about growing crops. She had a book. That was all. What would she do if, like, a plague of weevils came and ate all her potatoes? That was a thing right, potato weevils. She didn’t even know.

She didn’t know, and that was the problem. Long stretches of time to think about all the things she didn’t know, and second guess her choices.

And now, she was just walking. And thinking.

“Who usually takes the delivery, if whoever is at the lighthouse doesn’t pick up? Maybe they do but they’re sick? I wonder if I should have asked, and brought some medicine? Though I guess whoever brought the shopping list to Mrs. Sprübeck probably would have stopped and gotten medicine too.”

Thinking about the lighthouse, overthinking really, was easier than thinking about herself. She’d kept busy working the past couple days, and fallen into bed too tired to do anything but go to sleep.

Thanks to the walk up to the lighthouse and back, after the morning spent in her little field, she’d be just as tired tonight.

Finally she came around a curve on the trail, a place where the coast Tylert out and back in, and she saw, in the distance, the tall white spire of the lighthouse.

She was looking across the open water at what must be Perception Point. It was still a walk left. The trail bent, following the curve of the coast, and Lexie continued on. She lost herself in her own thoughts, even though she’d been trying to avoid exactly that, and the remainder of the walk passed quickly.

Lexie followed the trail up the base of the hill to where steps up to the lighthouse began. It was on the highest point around, the better to be seen.

The lighthouse was a tall white tower rising up from the highest point of the promontory that jutted out into the ocean. A huge glass globe, protected by a glass room sat at the very top. The sun was low, but evening hadn’t yet fallen, and the light was not yet lit. At the base, was a small addition, one story with a peaked roof. It was painted white like the tower.

All around the lighthouse was bare rock and sparse and hardy grasses. The harsh wind of the point made it near impossible for anything larger to grow.

By the time she reached the door, she was glad to be done with the trip. The steps up were large, irregular slabs of flagstone, and her legs were already tired from the long walk. She knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer.

She knocked again, and waited another couple minutes. There was still no answer. She knocked a third time, and while she waited, she looked around. The sun was low, and Lexie realized it would be full dark well before she made it home. And she hadn’t brought a light.

That was something she’d learned about the island. It got dark out here. The sooner she could get headed back, the less she’d have to walk in the dark.

“Oh come on,” she muttered to herself. “Answer the door.”

They wouldn’t be expecting her, not specifically, but whoever was here, had to remember they were expecting a delivery. She considered leaving it by the door. But she needed the delivery slip signed.

“Maybe whoever’s here really is sick,” she said to herself. “Maybe they can’t come to the door. Maybe I should take the groceries in, and make sure they’re okay.”

She tried the knob tentatively. Even talking it up, “Gotta make sure they’re okay, what if they’re very ill,” and convincing herself she had good cause, it still felt weird for Lexie to just walk into a stranger’s home.

She hoped it would be locked. She wasn’t sure what she’d do then, she didn’t want to walk all the way back with the delivery, but also, she didn’t really want to just walk in. And what if there was something wrong… . But the knob turned.

Lexie opened the door. “Hello!” she called into the interior. “Hello?”

There was no answer.

“I’m from Mrs. Sprübeck’s,” she called into the emptiness. “I have your shopping. I’m coming in.”

With that, she pushed the door further and let herself into the lighthouse.

The room she was in was at the base of the tower. There was a spiraling metal stair, more of a ladder really, leading up, and the room itself seemed to used as a combination entry and storage room. Beside the door was a freestanding coat rack with several jackets – a yellow rain slicker, a woolen peacoat, a thick parka – and there was a pair of the ubiquitous island tall green wellington boots beside it. There was a curved wooden cupboard that ran along the wall under the windows with their leaded panes. It had obviously been built for and fitted to the lighthouse.

A few rag rugs were scattered on the stone floor, and Lexie noticed they could use a wash, or at least a good shake outside.

There were coils of rope, burlap sacks, and a number of poles and tools scattered around the room. The place wasn’t a mess, not exactly, but it had a sense of controlled chaos. It was a working place.

“Hello?” called Lexie. Through a doorway, she could see an old fashioned, wood fired heavy iron stove. Apparently they didn’t have electric out here either. She wondered if she could get a stove like that for her cabin. That must be the kitchen.

She carried her pack through the door. There was a plank table, with a long Tylerch and a couple mismatched chairs. Besides the stove, there was a deep sink, fitted with a pump much like Lexie’s own outdoor pump. That was one solution, she thought. Not the one she’d prefer, but better than what she had now.

The other side of the room was set up like a sitting room, with a wooden Tylerch sofa, and a well used armchair. Once it had been covered in plush tapestry, but now the fabric was worn and faded. The finally carved legs and armrests indicated it had once been a fine and expensive piece of furniture. A large sea chest served as a low table, and the surface was littered with odds and ends. Bits of frayed rope, a knife, a half burnt candle, some stained pieces of paper, and a paper back novel, its pages splayed open and the cover up, as though someone had put it down hastily marking their place.

Glancing at it more closely, Lexie recognized one of her great aunt’s books. Death at the Lighthouse.

Lexie wondered briefly if the setting had been inspired by this self same lighthouse.

She took off the heavy pack and set it on the bench, opening the flap and taking out the food. Might as well empty out the pack, then she just needed to find whoever lived here and have them sign for the delivery.

There was even an icebox, Lexie noticed with some envy. Not a large one, but still, the enchanted metal box stayed at a fixed temperature few degrees above freezing and was large enough to hold the milk and eggs and cheese that Mrs. Sprübeck had packed.

Once the pack was empty, and the perishable items stored in the icebox, the rest left on the table, Lexie shrugged the empty pack on her shoulders, and took the paper manifest in her hand. She just needed to get whoever lived here to sign.

“Hello?” she called again, at the bottom of the stairs. There was still no answer.

Possibly whoever lived here was ill, she thought. Or injured. She ventured up iron stair ladder to the next floor.

It was a bedroom. There was an iron bedstead against one wall, covered with a patchwork quilt and another trunk at the end of the bed. There was a simple rag rug and a pair of leather boots. A shabby plaid robe hung on the wall on a hook. But there was no one here. The steep, narrow iron stairs continued upward, though. “Hello?” called Lexie again. “I’ve brought your delivery from Sprübecks?”

Again, there was no answer. She climbed to the next level, feeling distinctly uneasy. This floor was obviously used for storage. There were more curving cupboards here, and several trunks, stacked. More rope, coiled and hung on hooks. Unlike the bottom floor at the entrance, the supplies here were organized and orderly. Nothing had been left haphazard, or looked like it was out of place. Still, there was no one here.

There stairs continued up another level, however this time there was a closed trapdoor blocking the top. “Maybe whoever lives here is above, and couldn’t hear me through the closed door.”

Lexie climbed the stairs, and awkwardly pushed the trap door open at the top. This room was smaller than the one below, and didn’t contain much. It seemed like mostly it was spare parts for the huge lamp above, including a giant glass globe that Lexie thought must be a spare bulb for the center.

There were barrels of lamp oil, and long coils of a woven cord that Lexie thought must be wick. “Hello?” she called again. She didn’t see anyone here either, but the stairs continued up and there was another trap door above. She climbed up.

As she pushed up the trap door, Lexie realized she’d reached the top of the tower. The door folded back on its hinges and she climbed up onto a shellacked plank floor. She was surrounded by glass walls, and on the other side a plank deck rimmed with an iron railing. In the center of the room was the giant lamp itself, and there, with the access panel to the lamp open, she saw a large rump in shabby canvas sailor’s dungarees Tylert over. Whoever the rump belonged to had their upper body inside the lamp and was fiddling with something, loudly singing a sea chanty in strong baritone.

“AHEM,” said Lexie.

“Oj!” the person jerked upright, smacking their head into a metal armature. “Ow!”

The person turned around and Lexie found herself looking at a hefty woman in sailor’s dungarees, a cable sweater, pushed up to her elbows, and a knit cap.

“Well didn’t you me a fright!” she said in a deep voice.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” said Lexie. “I came with your delivery from Sprübecks, and when no one answered, I was afraid you might be ill or injured.”

“Oh bless you,” said the woman and laughed a deep, booming, laugh. “No, Captain Nellie’s never been sick a day in her life. I was just up here, fussing with this old lamp.” She gave the base of the fixture a kick that rattled the glass.

“Gotta get the durn thing up and running for nightfall. Taken it apart for a good spring cleaning.”

Outside the sea was stained red and gold and purple with the sunset.

“Not much time,” remarked Lexie.

“Ayuh,” replied Captain Nellie, and stuck her upper body back into the workings of the lamp.

“Um, if you could just sign this–”

“What was that?” Nelly’s booming voice shook the glass enclosure. “Can’t here you down in here. Be a good sailor and run downstairs and grab me a spool of number 7 wick would you.”

Lexie didn’t know what that was, but she climbed back down to the floor below and began looking through the lamp parts. “A spool, a spool.” She hunted around for spools, and found some. The lamp wick was like a thick flat webbing, wider than her hand, and came coiled on a fat spool half a meter tall.

The wooden end was printed No. 7 Lamp Wick, Classic, long burning.

Underneath was a picture of a lighthouse. “Must be it,” said Lexie.

She shrugged off the empty pack. No way she could maneuver the awkward spool of wick up the narrow twisting stairs and through the trap door with the pack on her back as well. She dropped the papers inside the pack, and hoisted the heavy spool with both arms.

One careful step up at a time, balancing with the spool in her arms, Lexie made her way back up to the lamp and Captain Nellie.

“Is this the right one?” She set the spool down with a thud on the floor next to the lamp where Captain Nellie was working.

Nellie straightened up more carefully this time. “That’s the stuff, can you cut me about a three meter length? Knife’s in me toolbox.”

Lexie wished Nellie had just asked for that in the first place. It would’ve been easier than lugging that whole heavy spool up. She sighed and fished through the toolbox until she found a big wood handled utility knife in an oiled leather sheath. She took it out and after measuring out about three meters of the wick, cut off a section.

She handed Nellie the section of wick, and then walked to the windows to look out over the see.

The last of the sunset was fading to deep purple, and she could see the distant lights of the town coming on in the twilight. She also noticed a thick bank of clouds coming in from the sea. In all other directions, there was spreading dark. She didn’t see any other towns, or even isolated houses.

Behind her, she heard at last the closure of the glass housing, and Nellie said, “I just need to light the lamps and top up the fuel below and I’m done. Come below, you don’t want to be up here when it’s lit, it’ll half blind you.”

Lexie gave the view a last look and climbed back down the stairs to the room below as Nellie lit the lanterns above.

/* :lookup: how lighthouses work */

“How come you don’t have a glowstone?” asked Lexie as she watched Nellie pour more lamp oil into a reservoir.

“Town can’t afford that,” snorted Nellie. “Just as well. If they could afford all the magic gizmos, old Captain Nellie here would be out of a job.”

She wound a big wooden handle and set gears to turning.

“What’s that for?” asked Lexie.

“That’s what turns the lamp,” said Nellie. “It goes until after dawn, but I come up and check it again before bed, put a few extra turns on it.”

The lamp done and set, Captain Nellie began her climb down to the living quarters below, talking all the way. “So you come from Sprübeck’s eh? Can’t say I’ve seen you before, but then I don’t make it into town much.”

Lexie shrugged on the pack that she’d dropped. /* :todo: have her just leave the pack by the front door, and tuck the papers in her pocket for signing. */

“I just moved to Albatross Bay,” said Lexie, following Captain Nellie down.

“Huh,” remarked Captain Nellie, reaching the bottom in good time. “Usually they’re going the other direction.”

“Well, my great aunt left me a cabin here, and–”

“Oh, you must be Martha’s relation! I was good friends with Martha,” interrupted Nellie. “I was terrible sorry to hear about her passing.”

“Thanks,” said Lexie.

She followed Captain Nellie into the kitchen where she was stowing the groceries that Lexie had left on the table. “I put your milk and some other stuff in the icebox.”

“Aye,” said Nellie. “Thanks.”

“If you could just sign for the delivery?” Lexie pulled the papers out of her pocket and looked around for a pen.

Nellie fished a pen out of a basket of odds and ends on a shelf and signed the bottom of the paper with a flourish. Lexie folded it, tucked it back into her pocket, and handed the duplicate to Nellie.

“I’ll just get headed home now,” Lexie said, “It was good to meet you.”

“Don’t be silly!” said Nelly. “You can’t go out in that.”

Lexie looked out the window. Night had fallen, but there was moonlight. “I’ll be okay, the trail’s fine, and there’s enough light.”

“Nae,” said Nellie. “Not that. There’s a squall coming. Half an hour and it’ll be dark as the devil’s back door and sheeting down besides. If you don’t get blown away, you’ll catch your death. No,” she said. “I’ll make up the sofa. You stay over till morning.”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” said Lexie, looking dubiously at the wooden bench sofa.

“No trouble,” said Nelly. “I’d be glad for the company. And anyway, least I can do after you rucked my supplies all the way up here. Speaking of.”

She pulled carrots and potatoes from bins and began peeling them into a pot on the table. “Let me just get the chowder on, then I’ll pour us a spot of the seaman’s friend, and we’ll have a bit of a chat while we wait for the dinner.”

“Can I do something to help?” asked Lexie.

“Sure, grab a knife and pull up a stool.” Captain Nellie pushed some of the carrots and potatoes over toward Lexie.

They were soon done, and Lexie watched with a bit of envy as Captain Nelly stoked up the wood fired stove and, when the top was hot, softened the carrots and potatoes and a bit of onion, then topped up the stock and left the pot to simmer.

She reached up into a cupboard and pulled out a bottle and two short glasses. She poured a finger of liquid in both glasses. Then added an extra splash to both.

She recorked the bottle and picked up her glass. Lexie picked up hers as well. The bottle had no label, but the liquor smelled strong.

“To Martha,” said Captain Nellie, and raised her glass. Lexie smiled and raised her own. “To Martha,” she echoed back.

Captain Nellie took a swig from her glass, while Lexie took a small sip. It wasn’t bad, the liquor was spicy and a little sweet. But it was strong.

She coughed and Captain Nellie laughed. “Put hair on your chest.”

“Remind me of that in autumn, when I’ll need the insulation,” said Lexie.

Nellie’s deep laugh boomed again. “You’re funny. Like Martha.”

That was something Lexie was curious about. “Did Martha spend a lot of time here?”

“She walked up to the point most mornings, weather willing,” said Captain Nellie. “She was an early riser, Martha. And o’course I’m always up at dawn to shut down the lamps. No point in wasting oil.”

“She was definitely a morning person.”

“She’d have her cup of coffee at her cabin, then walk up here, have another cup with me, and then back. She said the walking helped clear her head so she could focus on her work.”

“That’s a long walk,” said Lexie.

“Hour up, hour back, in good weather. When you’re not carrying a load. She’d stay for half an hour or so, and chat.” Nellie smiled fondly. “She used to say, ‘You’re so lucky to live in a place like this, Nellie.’ And she was right too. Have the finest view on the whole eastern seabord from me bedroom window.”

“How come you’re called Captain Nellie?” asked Lexie. “I thought people who looked after lighthouses were called ‘keepers’.”

“They are,” said Nellie. “Before I took over the the light house, I had a boat.” Nellie got a faraway look in her eyes. “A fine boat she was… .”

Lexie took another sip and waited for Nellie to continue the story, but no more was forthcoming. The Captain was lost in thought for a few moments, a flicker of sadness passed over her face. Then she shook herself and smiled at Lexie. But this time the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said Lexie. “I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”

“Not painful,” said Nellie. “Bittersweet.” She gazed out the kitchen window, to where the flashing lamp of the lighthouse strobed over the churning waves.

After a while, she said, “I miss the sea.” Then she shook herself like a big dog after a swim. “I better check that chowder. How’d you come to decide to take over Martha’s place?”

The large woman stood at the stove, her back to Lexie while she added more seasoning and a big jar of preserved corn, and listened as Lexie explained.

Maybe it was the liquor. “Seaman’s Friend”, Captain Nellie had called it. But she felt warm and comfortable in Nellie’s kitchen. She imagined Martha sitting in the same spot, chatting with Nellie, a steaming mug of coffee instead of a small glass of liquor.

“Things, they weren’t great for me in Tanooki City. It was… it wasn’t working out.” Lexie didn’t want to go into the details. Not because it hurt, she realised, but because it was tedious. It had been a week since she’d set out to Albatross Bay with only the mysterious letter fro a lawyer in a village she’d never heard of. But it felt like so much longer. It felt like another life already.

“A lot wasn’t working out. I felt like I was treading water, like no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get anywhere. So anyway, when the letter from Barlow arrived, it seemed like….”

“Seemed like?” prompted Nellie when Lexie was silent for a few minutes.

“This is going to sound silly, but it seemed like a sign. Like here’s an opportunity and I just… I felt like there were so many opportunities I missed when they were right in front of me, and now I saw one. So I took it.”

Then Lexie laughed.

“What’s funny?” asked Nellie, turning around and wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

“I might’ve had a little help from a drink I had out in a bar too.”

She related the unicorn drink and its associated buff to Captain Nellie, who said, “If I’m ever in Tanooki City, I’ll make sure to have me one of them.”

“I can strongly recommend it,” said Lexie. Her eyes landed on the paperback book, spine broken and pages splayed on the table. Martha’s book. “Did Martha model the lighthouse in her story after this place?”

“Aye,” said Nellie. She poured herself another finger of liquid from the bottle, and offered to Lexie, who shook her head. Nellie recorked the bottle and put it back in the cupboard.

“She was up here a lot the summer she wrote Murder at the Lighthouse. Asking all kinds of questions, too. Every day it was something new.”

“That’s the one where the lighthouse keeper is murdered right, because he caught on to the smuggling ring, and the heat from the lamps throws off the time of death, so the head smuggler has an alibi?”

“That’s the one! I helped her come up with that. She said, ‘Nellie, if I wanted to make it seem like a murder happened earlier, or later, in a lighthouse, how would I do it?’ And I said, ’Well those lamps get hot as dickens, I guess if you died in there, it would keep the body warm until the lamps turned off in the morning.”

/* :future: this could make a good plot in this series */

As they were talking, raindrops began to spatter against the windows. Lexie didn’t notice when the rain began, but the wind picked up, and soon the rain was hitting the panes with a sharp rat-tat-tat.

“Good you stayed,” said Nellie. “You wouldn’t be halfway home by now.”

Lexie could hear the wind whistle around the eaves. Above, the plank ceiling of the living quarters met in a peak. Open rafters ran across, and long objects were stored above. Lexie recognized some fishing poles, and a couple pairs of skis. There were other objects she couldn’t identify, a long wooden pole with a three pronged hook on the end, a bundle rolled in canvas, and some other odds and ends.

The roof of the living quarters was metal, and the sound of the rain rattled through the room.

Nellie added cream to the chowder, tasted it, and added a bit more salt. She ladled big bowls of the hot soup, and set one in front of Lexie. She pulled a metal tin with a crisp crackers from the cupboard.

The two women chatted about Martha, and how Lexie liked Albatross Bay, and how Nellie liked living in the lighthouse, while they ate. After the meal, Nellie washed up the dishes and put the leftover chowder away in glass jars which she stored in the icebox.

From another cupboard, she produced half a chocolate cake and cut two thick slices. “What the hell!” She reached up into the cupboard, pulled down the bottle of liquor again, and gave Lexie a sheepish grin. “I don’t have company often, might as well make it an occasion.”

She poured herself another finger of the amber liquid and raised her eyebrows at Lexie, offering the bottle.

“Oh, okay. Just a splash,” said Lexie holding out her glass. Good to Lexie’s direction, Nellie poured her a half measure and then tucked the bottle away.

The storm outside grew in intensity. Sheets of water streamed down the window panes, and through the water, Lexie saw lightning strikes out over the water.

“Does lightning ever hit the lighthouse?”

“No,” said Nellie, “Or I guess I should say yes, but we got one of those lightning systems with the big metal rods, and it runs down wires to store in the batteries.

“I didn’t notice anything electric.” Lexie looked around the living area and the kitchen. There were oil lamps and a wood fired stove, the icebox, which wasn’t actually chilled with ice, but a large, rune etched coldstone. It must have cost a lot.

“Not much,” said Nellie. “Can’t rely on it for the day to day, can’t predict when the storms come through for a refill, or if the lightning will hit. Full up, it’s got enough to power a backup lamp for five days. Long enough to fix an emergency, or do a proper bit of cleaning and maintenance.”

That made sense to Lexie.

“I wouldn’t mind one of those at my cabin.” She could run her computer off it. Get a TV. Watch movies. “But I really wish I had an icebox and a stove.” She nodded at Nellie’s wood fired stove.

/* :note: i still haven’t decided on a tech level for this story */

“Ah, yeh, Martha wasn’t one for cooking much when she was here. Used to walk up here in the mornings, and go into town for her lunch and her dinner, either walk or ride that old bicycle of hers. Said it did her good to stretch her legs. Otherwise she holed up the cabin writing. Her and that old typewriter.”

That came as a surprise to Lexie. She hadn’t seen any evidence that there was any kind of power at the cabin, or a bicycle either. She made a mental note to talk to Flintlock the next time she was in town.

After the cake, which was a delicious, moist, chocolate cake with a thick chocolate buttercream frosting, and chopped walnuts in the middle layer, Nellie lifted the bench seat off the wooden sofa in the living room and pulled out the base. She unfolded a thick mattress contained within, and suddenly the uncomfortable looking wooden sofa had become a cozy bed with a soft mattress and a pile of blankets. Nellie fluffed the pillows slightly. “It’s not the finest looking bed, but I’ve never had any complaints about it either.”

“It looks good to me.”

“Hold on, you won’t have any nightclothes with you!” Nellie hurried up the metal stairs to her own bedroom above. Lexie looked about the cozy room and yawned. It had been a long day, and she could barely keep her eyes open after the big meal. The liquor probably hadn’t helped either.

Nellie returned shortly with a cotton nightgown several sizes too large for Lexie and a threadbare robe, and a pair of knit woolen slippers. “Floors are cold’n the morn.”

“Thanks,” said Lexie.

“Bathroom’s through there.” Nellie gestured to a closed wooden door off the kitchen. Lexie had assumed it was a storage closet or a pantry.

“You have a bathroom?” Lexie said. She couldn’t keep the envy out of her voice.

“O’course. I live here year round, not about to strap on my skiis to go empty the old hot water bottle in a nor’easter am I.”

“I hope not!” said Lexie.

The bathroom wasn’t luxurious. If Lexie were pressed, she might call it ‘rustic’. But it was an indoor bathroom, which made it better than her own bathroom.

There was a large metal tub, with a shower-head on a hose, connected to a tank above. There were some pipes and valves Lexie didn’t understand. She’d never seen anything like it. At one end was another hand pump, similar to in the kitchen. Lexie guessed the tub must double as a sink because there wasn’t a separate hand sink in the small room.

The toilet was unusual also. It had a tank mounted high on the wall and a pull chain instead of a lever or button. But it was still an indoor toilet, and Lexie was definitely feeling the envy.

She washed her face and hands changed into the borrowed nightclothes.

When she returned to the main room, Nellie had finished tidying up. She’d added a couple more logs to the stove, and a small oil lamp glowed on the table next to the sofa.

It wasn’t that late, couldn’t be past eight PM, but Lexie was exhausted, and it seemed Nellie turned in early as well.

Nellie checked the latches on the windows and turned the lock on the door. “It’s a bad night out,” she said. Lexie thought she meant the weather, but something in her tone suggested it might be more than that.

Lexie climbed into the bed. The mattress was a bit lumpy, but soft. And if she were being honest with herself, she was tired enough she could’ve slept on the rag rug on the floor without difficulty.

Nellie finished with the door, sliding a heavy iron bolt home. Then she took another oil lamp from where it sat on the cupboard. “G’night,” she said to Lexie.

“Sleep well.”

Nellie nodded and carried the lamp up the steep, narrow stairs to own bedroom. Lexie turned the valve on the lamp beside her, and the flame guttered and finally died.

The room wasn’t completely dark. There was still a rosy glow from around the door of the wood stove, and warm flickering light from the top of the stairs where Nellie was getting ready for bed herself. Lexie closed her eyes, and, listening to the sound of the rain, drifting to sleep.

Skill acquired! [Good Neighbor]

Lexie’s eyes popped open. “What is– [Good Neighbor]?”

But she was too tired to consider it for long. She rolled over on her side and was asleep in moments.

Night at the Lighthouse

Something woke Lexie. Her eyes popped open. The room was dark. Nellie’s lamp was out, and the fire in the stove had died down to the last embers. Not even a glow from the grate. She must have been asleep for a while.

But what had woken her? The rain was still coming down, she could hear it on the roof. The lightning was still coming too. She saw a line split the sky over the sea. The boom of thunder came several seconds later, muted and distant. It wasn’t that which had woken her.

She laid in the bed, warm and comfortable, thinking about getting up and using Nellie’s indoor bathroom. A luxury, for sure. She was dozing and half back to sleep when she heard it–

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

It was at the window sill, the one in the kitchen, looking out over the water. She lost the sound of the scratching in a new gust of rain, the sharp tapping of the drops on the windows and on the metal roof, and the howl of the wind, drowning it out. She thought she must have been mistaken.

But then the wind died down again. And the sound came again.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

This time it came from the window in the wall opposite of where Lexie lay. What was it? She tried to recall if she’d seen any shrubs or trees near the lighthouse windows. Thinking back, she was certain she hadn’t. The whitewashed building stood tall and alone on the point. There were no trees, no bushes that she’d seen. She tried to remember. The side of the building where the noise came from was the side facing the water. Opposite the door.

No, she remembered seeing the front of the lighthouse from the trail. There hadn’t been any plants around the front. Who would plant them on the side facing the sea anyway, where the harsh wind would stunt them.

While Lexie was trying to remember if she’d seen anything that might be the source of the noise, the strobe of the lighthouse’s lamp flashed outside. Bright enough to illuminate a silhouette in the window Lexie was looking at.

Lexie screamed.

Moments later, when the strobe illuminated the window again, the silhouette, what she thought she’d seen, was gone. It was just open view looking out to the storm ridden sea.

There was a noise from upstairs, the thump of feet hitting the floor, and a minute later, the golden flicker of Nellie’s lamp was making its way down the stairs, clutched in Nellie’s hand.

She wore a white cotton nightdress identical to the one she’d leant Lexie, and a blue terry cloth robe, unbelted, over it. On her feet were thick knit socks.

“What? What happened?”

Lexie was sitting up in the bed. She just shook her head. “Stupid, Something woke me, and I thought it was scratching. It sounded like something was scratching outside the windows. It must be a branch.” She looked at Nellie for confirmation. Hoped she would say, “Oh yes the bushes out there do get blown around in a storm.” But she didn’t. Her face was impassive.

“Then I thought I saw something in the window. When the light flashed past. But then it was gone the next time I looked. It must have been a reflection, or maybe I wasn’t all the way awake yet.”

Lexie stared at Nellie, hoping she’d laugh and agree. Or even sigh and roll her eyes at the silly girl who screamed at a reflection. Lexie couldn’t imagine Captain Nellie had ever screamed at a reflection in her life. Lexie couldn’t imagine Captain Nellie screaming in fear, period.

It did not help set Lexie’s mind at ease, or convince her that she was imagining things, when Nellie set her lamp down on the table and turned up the flame. She approached the window cautiously. “Here?” She asked.

“Yes,” said Lexie. “That’s where I saw it. I heard the scratching in the kitchen first. Then over there.”

The flash of the lighthouse’s lamp illuminated the outside again. There was still nothing there. Lexie felt foolish. But Nellie was taking her seriously. “Did you see well enough to describe it?”

Lexie shook her head. She didn’t know what she’d seen. There was a shape, illuminated from behind, that seemed… human? But not completely. There was something about the shape of the head that seemed wrong, but maybe the person had been wearing a hat.

“I’m not sure what it was,” said Lexie. “I’m sure there was something?”

“More’n likely,” said Nellie. “There’s reasons not to go roaming on nights like this, and they aren’t all catching our death from wet boots or getting blown off the cliffs.”

Nellie lit the oil lamps in the kitchen and turned up the flames. She built up the fire, adding kindling and more wood, in the stove. Soon the room was warm from the fire and cozy with the flickering lamps.

Lexie sat at the table while Nellie heated milk in a saucepan, and measured in cocoa powder and brown sugar. “What do you mean?” She darted a look at the windows, but all they showed now was the cozy interior of the lighthouse reflected back.

“You stir the cocoa so the milk don’t burn, might as well check the lamp since I’m up.” Nellie disappeared up the ladder without explaining more. Lexie took over absent-mindedly stirring. She looked out the kitchen window, the one that looked out over the sea, studying the reflection of the room behind her when the light from the lighthouse swept past.

She yelled and jumped back from the window. Whatever she’d seen before, it was still out there. It was back. And this time she was sure she’d seen… someone.

A minute later Nellie was hurrying down the ladder.

“I heard you yell.” The concern was plain on her face.

“It… they… came back.” Lexie pointed at the kitchen window. “Out there.”

Nellie’s gaze flickered to the window. “Gone now,” she said.

“What,” began Lexie. “Who?” She couldn’t think of what question to ask. Nellie clearly believed her that someone was out there. Didn’t even seem surprised.

She took over the cocoa from Lexie. “There’s some scones in that tin there. Mayor Louise dropped by yesterday. Grab some plates too.”

Stirring the cocoa with one hand, Nellie retrieved a pot of jam with the other and set it on the table. “There’s some butter in the icebox too,” she said. She put two mugs on the table and poured the cooca into them.

“Alright,” she said, when they each had a scone and a mug of cocoa. “It’s not something they talk about in town, but everyone knows. Nights like this, when the rain comes down thick, there’s… things… that come out of the sea.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Things that don’t normally walk the land.”

“Like monsters?”

“Some are monsters,” said Nellie. She took a sip from her mug, wrinkled her nose, and stirred in another big spoonful of sugar. Lexie thought the cocoa was plenty sweet. “Some aren’t. Not exactly. They’re people. Or they were. Or maybe they will be.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Lexie.

Nellie sighed. “I’m not sure I do either. But there’s folk, of a sort, who live in the sea. They aren’t monsters, at least I guess they aren’t. They don’t come from the dungeon. I don’t know where they come from, except the sea. They can’t be out in the dry or the sun, not more than a few minutes. But nights like tonight, they can come up on land, at least for a little while.”

“What do they want?” asked Lexie.

Nellie shrugged. “Don’t know. In the morning, folk who were careless with their belongings will find things left out missing. Some will say they must’ve gotten blown away in the storm. They take things.” She stirred her spoon in her cocoa. “Sometimes they take people.”

“What?”

“Don’t want to scare you,” said Nellie. “But on occasions like tonight, people have been known to go missing too.”

“What do you mean,” said Lexie. The fork holding a bite of scone hovered halfway between her plate and mouth as she looked at Nellie, then glanced at the windows again. “People go missing? They take people?”

“Ayuh,” said Nellie. “Sometimes. Not often. But then, most people stay in on nights like this.”

“What do they do with them?” asked Lexie. “What do they do with the people they take?”

Nellie shook her head. “Don’t know.”

“Do they ever come back? Have you ever found them?”

“Not a trace,” said Nellie. “Some, they don’t believe. They still don’t go out, because even if they won’t believe they are out there, they can’t avoid people go missing. They blame accidents, they must’ve gone to check the boat was tied and fallen in, they must’ve been blown off the cliff, they must’ve… . But, it’s them what takes ’em.”

Lexie shuddered.

“But surely they must look for people who go missing?”

“Of course. There’s an investigation, searches, and asking people if they’ve seen so and so. And after a few weeks, a month, it quietly joins the other unsolved missing person investigations. Probably a suicide or accidental death likely.”

“Really? How many?”

Albatross Bay didn’t seem like it had the population to support a large loss of residents to mysterious sea dwellers. It seemed like the kind of place where people couldn’t go missing because they’d be missed.

Nellie didn’t answer the question, or she didn’t hear it. Wrapped up as she was in telling Lexie about the creatures. Or people. Whatever they were.

“O’course, sometimes people go missing on nights like this for reasons that have nothing to do with them.” Nellie jerked her head toward the sea when she said them.

“What do you mean?”

“Wouldn’t be a new thought for someone to take advantage of a night like tonight, knowing how people have a tendency to disappear, and make an inconvenient problem of their own disappear. Knowing that the sheriff will already half assume it was another accident.”

“The sheriff must know about… them though, right?”

Nellie gave a mirthless chuckle. “The sheriff would say he don’t hold with wive’s tales and superstitions.”

Lexie couldn’t imagine disbelieving something she saw with her own two eyes. She did see it. She was sure she had. She’d seen something. Right?

“Has he even looked for them?”

Nellie pursed her lips. “Our sheriff has ‘better things to do with taxpayer money than go hunting for mermaids.’”

The way she said it, in a deep, pompous voice, made Lexie laugh. It was a welcome feeling.

She finished her scone and her cocoa. The storm was still blowing and the rain pounding on the glass and the metal roof of the addition. But inside, with Nellie, was warm and cozy and Lexie felt insulated from whatever was out there.

“And they don’t come in? They just come up and look in the windows?”

“Well,” said Nellie. She fished around in a drawer and pulled out a pipe. She dug around some more for a pouch of tobacco. Matches she had in her pocket. She fussed around with her pipe for a few minutes, filling it and lighting it. And when it was lit, and she took a long pull on it and exhaled a cloud of thick, spicy smoke.

“Well?” prompted Lexie.

“Well.” Nellie heaved a small sigh. “I don’t want to scare you, living like you do by yourself in that cabin. I’ve never personally known them to come in, not in the lighthouse. They come up and look in the windows sometimes. Maybe more than I know. I sleep upstairs. And I lock my doors.”

“That’s… not exactly an answer,” said Lexie.

Nellie adjusted in her chair and fiddled with her pipe for another minute. Felcility wanted to know what the woman was trying to say—Nellie seemed like a woman with something to say, but one who was struggling to put the words together.

Finally, Nellie spoke again.

“There was the Thomases. They lived down on the far side of the harbour,” Nellie began. Rs vanished in her accent. Far became “fah” and harbour became “hahbuh”.

She continued after a pause. “One night they up and vanished. Night like this.” She looked at the dark windows. The lamps reflected the interior. They were, to anyone on the outside, a cozy illuminated tableau. Like a shadowbox scene, two women in a lighthouse drinking cocoa. The same reflection stopped them seeing who might be looking in.

“They didn’t pack up the house. Their clothes, all their things, were still there. The front door was wide open, and the neighbour, the one who saw it and put his head in to check on them, said there was a trail of water from the door, into the house. It went down the hall, to the kitchen, to all the bedrooms. He said there was some kind of a heavy fishy smell. Not bad, not like rotting fish. But a thick, sea smell. If you know what I mean.”

Lexie didn’t know, but she nodded anyway.

Nellie continued.

“The house was empty. Neighbor called the sheriff, who said it looked mighty strange, but there was no sign of a struggle, no blood, nothing like that. ‘No indication of foul play.’” She imitated the sheriff again. “Just Willard and Twyla Thomas and little Marcel vanished. Sherriff said maybe they just went for a walk, didn’t shut the door tight, and it blew open. Maybe it was wet because it rained in. How it rained all the way down the hallway and around corners he didn’t say.”

Lexie had a sense that Nellie and the Sheriff did not see eye to eye. Lexie hadn’t met the sheriff yet. She decided she would try to keep an open mind and try not be influenced by Nellie’s overtly critical opinion.

“Did they ever turn up?” asked Lexie. She was pretty sure she knew the answer. If they had, she wouldn’t be hearing the story.

“Nope.” Nellie took another long draw on her pipe. “Never heard from ’em again. The sheriff locked up the house. Kept an eye. After seven years, their relatives sold the place. All the contents included. Far as I know, no one ever even set foot in that house after the sheriff, up until it was sold off.”

“But, that’s the only time?” Lexie wasn’t sure what to make of the story. The fact was people went missing places that weren’t anywhere near the coast. She’d done a true crime podcast long enough to know the staggering variety of people who just vanished. Mostly it was women and girls. But it wasn’t completely unheard of for an entire family to disappear. It never meant anything good. No one ever said to their family, ‘Hey let’s go start a new life, just walk out of the house in only the clothes on our backs and disappear. Start a new life from scratch. Never talk to anyone we know ever again. Let’s not even touch our bank accounts.’

But people did disappear. Lexie was intrigued by the story, and the other disappearances. If it were true, not just rumors, it should have been reported in the local paper. She would make it a point to stop in and see if she could access their back issues. Or maybe the library would have them available.

“The only time a whole family disappeared overnight, as far as I know. But Albatross Bay has been here a long, long time.”

Nellie took another pull on her pipe, then yawned. “You gonna be all right by yourself down here?” She stood and moved to the windows in the living area. They were hung with thick wool curtains and Nellie pulled them closed.

“Sure,” said Lexie. She felt better with the warm cocoa in her belly. The extra shot of the sailor’s little helper that Nellie had added to the mugs hadn’t hurt either. With the curtains closed, whatever was out there couldn’t see in anymore, and it would move on. She didn’t have to worry about opening her eyes and seeing a monstrous fish face pressed against the glass, staring at her.

“I don’t normally think to pull the curtains in here, sleeping upstairs like I do. They keep it warmer in the winter, and I draw them then, but there isn’t anyone for miles. Well, no neighbours of the land dwelling variety anyway.”

While pulling the curtains, Nellie checked the latches on the windows a second time. “There,” she said. “Snug as a /make up a nautical expression/.”

“Thanks,” said Lexie.

“It’s no bother,” said Nellie, her voice warm and sincere. “Couldn’t have let you walk off into that, not after you did me the solid of bringing my supplies all the way out here. Anyway. Night like tonight, I’m glad of the company.”

Morning After

In the morning Lexie woke to the clanking of the stove door and rattling of pans in the kitchen. She sat up on the sofa, which had been more comfortable than it looked, and glanced toward the kitchen. Nellie was just putting a large kettle on the stove. A cheery red glow emanated from within.

Lexie folded back the blankets and stood up. She pulled back the curtains and looked out on a grey, dismal day. Rain still streaked the windows, though the thunder and lightning seemed to have passed on.

“Oh I didn’t mean to wake you,” said Nellie. “It’s hard to start up this stove quiet though. I was just putting some coffee on.”

“I should be up and get going anyway,” said Lexie, still looking at the rain. “Is it… safe… out there?”

“You mean them?” said Nellie. “Safe as houses now. They’re only a bother at night, and only in rain like we had last night. A little drizzle isn’t wet enough for them I guess, and they don’t care for the light. Imagine they have sensitive eyes, probably live in the deep. Must, or we’d all have known about them ages ago.”

Nellie chattered on while Lexie stepped into the small bathroom and changed back into yesterday’s clothes. She neatly folded the borrowed nightgown, and set it on the sofa. By the time Lexie was dressed, Nellie proclaimed the coffee done and poured them each a steaming cup. She reached for her bottle of Sailor’s Little Helper. Lexie smiled, but shook her head and covered her cup.

“Just a dash for flavour,” said Nellie, and added a generous splash.

Lexie supposed if she had nothing to do but potter around a lighthouse all day she might start the morning with a splash of something too. But she had to walk all the way back to town, drop of the delivery receipt to Mrs. Spurbeck, and she really needed to see if she could track down that bicycle.

At least with the rain, she didn’t have to water her newly planted garden. She just hoped that all the seeds hadn’t washed away. Not that she could have done anything about it anyway.

The coffee was thick and strong, but delicious. Nellie mixed up a batch of pancakes as well, insisting Lexie have a good breakfast before she set off.

Hearty breakfast! You've had a great start to the day, and as a result your stamina is gonna be 10% better until lunch. You're definitely gonna get a lot done in the next four hours!

“Wow, these are great! I just got a buff too!”

“Good,” said Nellie, looking relieved, “I was trying, but my buffs are pretty hit or miss.”

“I can’t cook any,” said Lexie.

“I’ve picked up a couple here and there,” said Nellie. “But like I said, it’s pretty hit or miss whether I manage to cook one in. I’ve been practicing on the pancakes though. I think my success is about 75% now.”

“I wish I could do that,” said Lexie.

“Next time you make a delivery, I could try and show you.” Nellie looked hopeful.

“I don’t know if Spurbeck’s will want me to do any more deliveries but the lighthouse isn’t ,” said Lexie. “I’ll definitely drop by for a visit and pancakes. I can bring you some produce when I get my garden going.”

“Deal!”

Quest Alert! Bring Nellie some fresh ripe (produce) from your garden in exchange for learning the Hearty Breakfast pancakes buff!

“I just got a quest,” said Lexie.

“Me too,” said Nellie. “I’m going to teach you my pancake buff in exchange for some fresh (produce). I haven’t had a quest in… well, it’s been a while. A long while.” She laughed. “This is gonna be fun.”

After breakfast, Lexie was on her way, bundled against the storm /* did she need to borrow rain gear? backtrack and check */ with Spurbeck’s backpack strapped on.

“Now mind, be careful on the trail,” said Nellie. “It can get slippery in weather like this, and rain like last night might have washed things loose. Be extra careful near the edge.”

“Will do,” said Lexie. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you soon!”

She set off into the dismal morning. Nellie watched her go. At the bottom of the winding path leading up to the lighthouse, Lexie stopped and turned. Nellie was still watching her go from the door, cup of coffee in hand. Lexie waved, and Nellie raised her mug and toasted.

Then Lexie was off, the trail winding out of site behind a rise.

The trip back to town was long, but easier walking with the now light pack. Lexie followed Nellie’s caution, and kept a lookout for places where the trail was slick, or where the rain might have eroded the banks or the cliff’s edge. It was all fine.

She thought about stopping at her cabin to change clothes, but decided she’d rather try and get her running around done while she had the energy boost from the buff.

First stop, Spurbeck’s to finish the quest from the job board. Then the lawyer’s to see if he knew anything about where Martha might have stored her bicycle.