Shadows On The River

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While we drank our coffee and Maddy played with her ponies on the floor, Mark tried to get me to talk about my design. Just like the previous day, when the meeting naturally came to an end, Mark didn’t rise to leave first.

I handed Mark his coat, and said that I guessed the meeting hadn’t been all that bad and how I was happy to get to work together for a little bit longer.

“I would like to continue working with you,” he said.

“Well, yes, it’s been fun.”

He paused, took a breath and said quietly, “May I ask why you printed out all those news articles on Paul? If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. If I’m prying, that is.”

“I was interested in the story.”

“You always print off random articles?” He paused. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, uh. It’s okay.” I paused. “Maybe you should know, especially because you knew Paul Ashton. Larry Fremont and I grew up in the same town.”

His eyes widened.

“So, um, naturally, I was curious. His mother owned the mine that employed ninety percent of the people in our town.”

“Did your father work in the mine?” His eyes were hooded when he looked at me and I couldn’t read his expression. Did I imagine it or did his eyes take on an intensity that wasn’t there before? Imperceptibly, I backed away slightly from him, but then I realized what it was. He knew Paul Ashton and Paul Ashton had died. No wonder he seemed intense, sad today. Anyone would, given those circumstances.

I shook my head, looked away from his piercing glance. “My father is a pharmacist. Fremont sent most of his business our way, so yes, I guess you could say that we, too, were employed by the Fremonts. My family moved to PEI when the mine closed.” I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice, but his eyes were frightening me. To change the subject I quickly asked, “How are the Ashtons today?”