Cored

Chapter 5: Eat, Drink, or Steal

The old woman laughed, taking a sip of tea from her mug. "Can I get you a cup?" she asked, holding it up in offering.

"That would be great," the young woman said, leaning her elbows on the counter.

The woman turned around and poured another cup from a small, blue teapot. Without asking, she put in some cream. "I know you take your coffee black, but this is better with a bit of milk."

Katherine took it happily. It smelled of vanilla and almond, even sweeter with the cream. The familiar fog lingered on her glasses, so she pushed them up on top of her head.

"So, I heard that you had a visitor at the pub today?" the woman asked, taking a sip of her own tea.

Katherine looked down into the mug. "How did you hear about that?"

"Oh, Mark has never been a quiet one," she said. She placed her hand on top of Katherine's. "Don't mind him. He's all bluster."

"Apparently, he has decent aim, too . . ."

The woman laughed as Katherine looked up at her. "Yes, he has been known to get a little out of sorts. Throwing beer, though, is a bit out of character for him. Best to give him a few days, he'll find something else to bellow on about."

"You're probably right," Katherine said, looking at the kind woman.

"So, what did he have to say about the photo?" the woman asked, trying to move the conversation in a lighter path.

"He's my uncle, apparently. The photo is actually of his twin."

"Yes, they were always together. Rarely saw one without the other if they came in from the hills."

"It seems like they were very close. But the brother died some time ago, when I was little."

The woman looked at her with a sadness that Katherine didn't want to give way to. She quickly added "But, at least I know their names now. What I can't quite figure out, though, is how no one seems to remember my mother."

"What do you mean?" the woman asked, confused.

"Well, I showed you and everyone else the same picture. And while some people recognized him, no one remembered her. And from what my uncle said, they met here. She worked in one of the shops. So . . . how does no one know who she is?"

The woman got that same bewildered look as before, like her brain was close but just couldn't reach a shelf her mother was on. She shook her head.

"I don't know, dear. You'll have to ask him about it."

Katherine nodded in agreement, hoping to bring it up the next day.

"We're having lunch tomorrow. Hopefully, that's early enough that Mark won't wander in."

"Oh, you let me worry about Mark. I'll catch him if I see him making his way over."

"Thanks, Marcie," the girl said, truly grateful for the old woman's kindness. "I better let you get back to your work, or else you'll be here all night."

Katherine finished the last of the warm, sweet tea. It had made her very tired.

"Good girl," Marcie said, noting the empty mug with a smile. "But, I think I'll have to try again tomorrow. My eyes are tired."

Katherine smiled and waved as she walked out, the cool air feeling harsher than it had earlier now that she was so warm and content from the bakery. She wished she had a sweater. Knowing it was too cool to keep walking, she headed back to the pub.

But, the door was locked.

"Shit," she said, pulling at the door again.

She looked around, realizing that Kevin must have locked up early not knowing that she was gone. She thought about turning back to the bakery, but the light was already off. She wouldn't dare walk up towards the inn, knowing that Mark was probably still drunk from earlier. She chewed on her cheek and fiddled with her ring, trying to come up with a plan.

Behind her, she heard a new voice—"Closed already?"

She turned around startled but saw one of the men that had come in with Hermione earlier that day. He had dark hair and wore round wire-rimmed glasses. His hands were tucked into the pockets of a black denim jacket that looked well-loved. He was younger than George and not nearly as tall.

"Yeah, I guess so," she said, not quite sure how much he knew.

"Looking for a bite or a drink?" the man asked, walking closer. She could see him a bit better now, his pale face and green eyes stark against his hair.

"Neither," she said. But she stopped—telling strangers where you sleep is what gets you talked about on a murder podcast, she reminded herself.

"I'm Harry," the man said, holding out a hand to shake. She took it cautiously.

"Katherine."

"Well, Katherine, if neither a drink nor a bite, are you trying to rob the place?"

Katherine scrunched her brow and stepped back. "Of course not," she said, not liking the insinuation.

"If that's the case," Harry nodded at her, laughing quietly at her response, "you better try the door again, then."

"Why would I do that?" Katherine asked.

He didn't answer, just nodded at the door. With a huff, Katherine tried the door again just to show him that nothing had changed. But, much to her surprise, it opened easily.

"Must have just been stuck," he said, looking at her with an innocent smile.

"Must have . . ."

"Glad you don't have to stay out in the cold, Katherine who does not eat, drink, or steal." He nodded again, and walked up the road, back towards the hills.

She stared after him for a moment, stirred from her confusion only by a shiver that ran down her spine. She ran inside to escape the cool air. Seeing that no one was around, and knowing Kevin had his keys if he did leave the door open, she locked it behind her before going up the stairs.