The weather had been good to me that morning. In mid-May in Canada you never really know what temperatures to expect when you left the house. Anything is possible, including rain and snow. Today, though, the friendly glow of a spring sun not only accompanied me to work but also ensured that I was supplied with sufficient vitamin D through the large window front.
Under these circumstances, I really enjoyed my job at Harrison Sports. It was seldom exciting to earn money in a sports shop, but I was fine with that. All I had to do was smile pleasantly at customers and change the money they were more willing to spend at this time of year than two months ago.
Because there wasn't much going on this afternoon, it felt more like a visit to a sunbed. I closed my eyes to enjoy the warm rays while I listened to my boss working. I rarely saw Mr. Harrison at work. He always had something to do in his enormous storeroom. Whenever he had to leave it because a customer needed his help, he reminded me of an old bear clumsily leaving its den. I'd known Mr. Harrison since I was a little kid. He and my dad had been colleagues at the sawmill many years ago, and Dad had put in a good word for me when I had applied for the job.
"Two new boxes."
I jumped when Mr. Harrison's voice suddenly sounded next to me. I hadn't even seen him approach the counter. For a moment I relaxed until I noticed that he was expecting an answer.
"Excuse me?"
"Get this—they've unloaded two new boxes." My boss snorted. "Sometime between last night and noon today."
"Oh." Now I understood what he wanted to say. His small war with the strange garbage-dumpers had gone into the next round. Four months ago someone had started dumping their garbage behind Mr. Harrison's shop. Now we sometimes found even more trash from the strange business than from Harrison Sports itself. What had been only a minor annoyance in the beginning for my boss had developed into a real feud against an invisible enemy. When Mr. Harrison fought, he fought with all means. In the past weeks he had exhausted every idea that could come to mind—from using a pair of binoculars to monitoring the yard to spending the night in the shop, all to catch the culprits in the act. So far, unfortunately, he had not been successful.
"Didn't you see anything?" I asked. "You were in the storeroom the whole time."
"That's the point," the man mumbled. He had sweat on his forehead, probably because he'd been lifting heavy equipment, but it could also be because of the heat today. "I didn't hear anything. These criminals are as quiet as ghosts."
"I'm sure you'll find them someday." I tried to comfort him. "And then hopefully they'll get into real trouble." My theory was that they dumped their garbage at random times so that we couldn't catch them. They probably did it whenever their own container got too full. We also figured they were a business of some sort—private individuals couldn't possibly accumulate so many packages—but the boxes were always unmarked and unidentifiable.
"I'm telling you, it's the goddamn Chip Barn," Mr. Harrison said. "This whole thing started after they opened across from us."
He trotted to the vending machine to pull two cans. A Diet Coke, because his wife had forbidden him real ones, and a lemonade for me.
"Thank you," I said as he put it on the counter. Mr. Harrison was a fantastically nice boss when he wasn't bothered by illegally dumped waste. "Without evidence we can't get them," I added while snapping the clasp. The first sip of the tingling liquid made me realize how warm it had actually become in here.
"I know." He sighed and seemed to be trying to shake things off. Then he stretched his back with a moan before he looked through the glass front of the store.
"Pretty sunny today," he muttered. It almost seemed like he didn't like the sun, but I knew better. He loved to spend his free time outside; he was a great hiker. Whenever the weather forecast promised some stability, he grabbed his wife and his tent and disappeared into the wilderness. Maybe that was the reason his face looked so weather-beaten at sixty, but it also gave him extra charm.
"I don't think anyone will come today." Mr. Harrison rubbed his hands. "Go on home, Ruby. You should get some sun."
"Are you sure?"
Actually, the store was open for another hour, but Mr. Harrison laughed. "You're still young. I'm sure you have plans on a beautiful day like today, don't you?"
Something about the way he expressed it embarrassed me.
"I promised Dad I'd help him with the hay," I admitted.
Mr. Harrison sighed. "Ruby, you work too hard. The school, the job, and then you help out on the farm. And you'll get your license soon."
His concern elicited a hesitant laugh from me.
"It's gonna take a while anyway," I said. "I'll never be able to afford the license and the car."
That was one of the reasons I took the job at Mr. Harrison's store, to earn extra money on Saturdays. I didn't seem to be very good at keeping my money together, though. My friend Audrey was also not innocent in this. She talked me into doing things with her far too often. Over the last few Saturdays a little bit of money had accumulated in my savings account, but it would probably take another hundred years until I could pay for a driver's license and a car with it.
"Are you looking forward to the fair?"
Or even two hundred years.
"Yes," I confessed. "Are you going?"
The town fair was Shatterlake's biggest attraction at the end of May—and also the only one. Like me, most of the people I knew were looking forward to eating cotton candy from overpriced stalls while riding the rides, but I refused to ride the Ferris wheel. I was afraid of heights, though, so I would observe the monster wheel from a safe distance. At the fair there would also be plenty of opportunities to spend my hard-earned money.
Mr. Harrison looked at his calendar behind me. It was decorated with beautiful Canadian forests. "No," he said. "Mary wants to visit her sister this week."
I was wide eyed. "In Vancouver?"
He nodded. "I can't refuse her anything."
That made me smile. Mr. Harrison was not a very sociable person. He was not unfriendly or grouchy, but he appreciated time alone. That's probably why he loved hiking so much and preferred to hide in the storeroom of his shop instead of saving money by serving customers himself. I was flattered that he liked me enough to talk with me this much.
When Mr. Harrison spoke of his wife, Mary, there was always a glow in his eyes. I could see that he would do absolutely anything for her, even pay for an expensive flight and spend a week with her sister's extended family. When Mr. Harrison told me about Mary, I always felt the need to rest my chin on my hands and listen to him.
"Shall I bring you poutine?" I asked jokingly.
That made him laugh. It sounded like the rumble of a grizzly. "No, thanks. I can get them on every corner here." He nodded to the door. "Now get your things and go home."
"Okay. See you next Saturday."
As I stepped through the sliding doors, the bright sunshine greeted me like the spotlight of a concert stage. The street was full of people who looked happy, and I could smell freshly made fries from the Chip Barn across the street. While I was adjusting my ponytail I threw a searching glance at our presumed archenemy. Then I opened my jacket a bit and got moving.
Without a car, I was more or less dependent on public transport. The bus was my best friend. It took me to school and home and also to work or to my friends when Dad didn't have time to drive me in the pickup truck. At the moment he was probably transporting the hay home so that we could load it from the trailer.
The muffled vibration of my phone ripped me from my thoughts. In the shop I had always set it to silent so that it didn't annoy the customers, but I often forgot to increase the volume afterward. A look at the display revealed that Audrey had sent me a message.
You and me. Tonight.
The simple text made me smile.
I'm getting hay in my hair today, remember? I typed.
The answer buzzed under my fingers promptly, as if Audrey had left the screen on and waited while I typed.