Permanent Vacancy. Katy Lee

battered chair. He lowered Gretchen gently into it. On his knees, he looked into her eyes.

      “Goldie, breathe with me.” He demonstrated a slow exhale and inhale. She seemed to be trying to match him, but unsuccessfully. “Try it. I promise it will work. Just follow my lead.”

      She didn’t.

      “Let’s see, how about we try this? My ma used to hyperventilate and a sweet chewy always did the trick.” Colm opened a compartment on his belt and withdrew some bubble gum. “I’m going to put this in your mouth. I want you to chew once and breathe out. Then chew again and breathe in. Can you do that?”

      At her nod, he slowly placed the sweet gum on the tip of her tongue and mimicked a chew.

      She did it, along with a short exhale. Slowly, her mind switched gears and she chewed again and again while breathing steadily in and out.

      “That’s right. Just grand.” He beamed at her. When her breaths quieted down, he asked, “Better?”

      She nodded, smiled weakly...then jumped from her chair. “Why would you scare the life out of me like that? You could have killed me if that went into an asthma attack.” She scanned the corners of the room. “Wait. Please tell me I’m not going to find another one of your cameras in here.”

      “No cameras. And I said I was sorry. I had no idea you were in here, or even upstairs. I heard someone walking around and thought it might be the person who cut the floorboards. Honest. I had no idea it was you. How did you get up here, anyway? You never passed by me on the stairs.”

      Still dealing with the aftermath of her hyperventilation, Gretchen fell back into the chair like a rag doll. “Back staircase. There’s a servants’ house with a stairwell that connects to the second floor. I had just come through the door behind me when you—”

      “You had just come through? You mean you weren’t up here for a while? Like at least five minutes?”

      She shook her head.

      Colm looked back out toward the hall. He looked at the back entrance she had used. “And you didn’t meet anyone in the back stairwell on your way up?”

      “No.”

      “And there’s no other way downstairs but by the two stairways?”

      “No.”

      “Then I’d say someone else is still up here with us.” He touched the handle of his hammer but paused before taking it out. “Stay here while I check it out.”

      She bounced back up. “No way. This is my house, and if someone’s in here, I want to know who it is. Besides, you won’t be able to identify the person—I will.”

      Her idea didn’t sit well with him. She could have broken her neck once today. He didn’t like her putting it out there again. He’d rather she leave the house while he searched it, but judging by the tilt of her chin, she wasn’t going anywhere.

      “Stay close, and if I tell you to run for the hills, you better leg it.” Colm withdrew the hammer up and out of its loop again. Heading back out into the hall, he stopped at the first closed door and swung it wide. Empty, except for a bed and dresser placed against the far wall. Obviously Gretchen’s makeshift room for the time being. He shut the door to move on, but a sound came from two doors down.

      Colm brought his arm up to stop her. She didn’t balk, which told him she’d heard it, too, and understood the danger of the situation. He made his way to the room, shoving the door wide.

      Before he could say anything to the man standing there, Gretchen let out a quick gasp behind him and said, “Seriously? How could you?”

       THREE

      The picture before Gretchen was ludicrous. Len Smith held a crowbar in his withered hand. The ninety-five-year-old man could barely stand up straight, never mind raise the tool above his slumped head to fight Colm, who couldn’t be older than twenty-eight.

      “Colm, put the hammer down,” she instructed the younger, very ruggedly strong man who was no match for the elderly, declining one. “This is Len. He’s like my grandfather. In fact, he’s a grandfather to everyone here on the island. I would say he would never hurt me, but lately those words have lost their weight when it comes to the islanders.”

      Len grunted, but remorse traced his droopy eyes. “I’m sad to say it, but I would have to agree. It pains me to see such upheaval in Berlin.”

      “Berlin?” Colm repeated.

      “You mean Stepping Stones, Len, don’t you?” Gretchen asked.

      “Yes, yes, of course.” Len looked at the corners of the ceiling. “All because of this house? I don’t get it. You have a fine home, Gretchen.”

      “Well, I appreciate that, Len, but it’s going to be a whole lot better when I’m done.”

      “I don’t doubt it, and I don’t doubt you. You have to believe that I am on your side.” He smiled. “I hope you don’t mind I gave myself the tour. Nobody was around when I came in. That attic is impressive, by the way. Are you going to finish it and claim it as your living quarters and let out the rooms on this floor to guests?”

      “I would have loved that, but I think I’ll make a better income booking the attic. I had hopes it might be an extended rental for the whole summer for someone. I’ll make the servants’ quarters out back my home.”

      “You’re a wise businesswoman. Always have been, though. The way you helped your mom run the restaurant, it’s no wonder Tildy is bent out of shape for losing you. You were more than a waitress and businesswoman, though. You’re also a fabulous cook. Your guests will go home ten pounds heavier when they taste your handiwork in the kitchen. I might sell my house and move in.” He cackled his oh, so comforting laugh, one that made her want to crawl up into his lap the way she had as a little girl. “Let you take care of me in my last years.”

      “You’re practically a fixture at the Underground Küchen restaurant. Mom would never allow you to leave, too,” Gretchen said.

      “True enough, especially with the holes in your floor. So many bombs. When will they end?” Len’s eyes flitted around the room and his shrunken shoulders folded in. He looked so forlorn that Gretchen reached for his arm.

      “Len, is everything okay? You seem confused.”

      “Is he touched?” Colm whispered into her ear. She shot a questioning look at him. He mouthed back, Dementia?

      “Of course not,” she replied, but the old man’s behavior said otherwise. “Len, there are no bombs. I think you’re just remembering the war. All is safe here.”

      Colm grunted. “Your floor’s been cut. You call that safe?”

      “Cut? What’s he talking about? Who cut your floor?” Len snapped back to the present day.

      “Everything’s fine, Len. Don’t worry.”

      Len eyed them. She was glad to see his keenness restored but wished it weren’t focused on her. “Glad to hear it, but you might want to make repairing that hole downstairs a high priority. Wouldn’t want you facing a lawsuit so close to your grand opening. Could put a damper on your plans.”

      “Interesting you should say that.” Colm had brought his hammer down but still held it in front of him, tapping the face of the tool into his palm. “Do you have any other tools on you besides that crowbar? A saw, perhaps? One with power, I’d imagine.” His threatening stance made Gretchen think he cared about her.

      For a split second only.

      In actuality, he probably thought the camera was still on him, because the show seemed to be the only thing he cared about.

      But he had just helped her through a breathing