If you leave that stray cat in your house, Martha, you'll be smelling her dead owner till spring, the deputy told me on the porch.
The bell above the door stopped jingling, leaving only the quiet hum of the refrigerated cases and the crackle of the woodstove in the corner. Eldon Peck’s gaze was fixed on me, devoid of its usual friendly crinkles. His lips were a thin line.
“Martha,” he said, his voice flat. He didn’t offer his usual greeting, didn’t ask how I was doing.
“Eldon, I need kerosene,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “And some bottled water. A few groceries.”
He set down the jar he was polishing with a decisive clink.
“Can’t help you, Martha,” he said, his eyes flicking to the flyer Julian had taped to the inside of the door, visible through the glass. My face, distorted, stared out at us both.
My hands clenched inside my gloves. “What are you talking about, Eldon? I’ve been coming here for decades.”
“There have been… concerns,” he said, puffing out his chest a little. “Serious concerns. About your… temperament. And about what happened to poor Clara.”
“What happened to Clara was an accident,” I said, my voice rising a little. “She froze to death. Julian Kross is trying to twist it.”
“The flyers say different,” Eldon countered, his gaze firm. “Say you poisoned her. Say you’re unstable. We can’t have that kind of element in town, Martha. It’s for the safety of my customers. And my family.”
He gestured vaguely around the empty store.
“Julian is lying, Eldon! He’s trying to get her land, and he’s trying to freeze me out of my home!”
Eldon just shook his head, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I’ve heard what I’ve heard. And I’ve seen the paperwork. He’s a legitimate developer. You… you’re just a recluse, Martha. Always have been. Nobody sees you until something like this.”
The injustice of it was a physical blow. Fifty years of quiet, honest living, erased by a few smears on paper. My isolation was now a weapon against me.
“So you’re really going to turn me away?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “No fuel, no food, in the middle of winter?”
He nodded, a flicker of something that might have been regret, but was quickly replaced by resolve. “I’m within my rights. If you don’t leave, Martha, I’ll have to call Deputy Croft.”
Deputy Croft. The lazy, indifferent lawman who just wanted to avoid anything complicated. He wouldn’t lift a finger to help me, especially not against Julian Kross, who clearly had some sway in town.
I stood there for a moment, the weight of the town’s suspicion pressing down on me. Julian had succeeded. He had weaponized public paranoia, isolating me completely. No supplies. No help. Just the cold and my own failing strength.
I turned without another word and walked out, the jingle of the bell a mocking echo behind me. The biting wind felt almost merciful compared to the frozen rejection in Eldon Peck’s eyes.
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