WHY CHEESE? BY ELLEN MINT – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Ellen Mint
- Language: English
- Genre:Paranormal / Sci-Fi
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Goudafellas
ON THE CORNER sits a cheese shop full of painful memories, dark
shadows, and the unfortunate name of Goudafellas. I try to muster a small
chuckle for the pun my great uncle would have been proud of, but it fails in
the gloomy rain. Winds tear at the umbrella in my hand. I cinch tighter,
causing the mass of keys to jangle.
Two planter boxes made from old cheese crates sit astride the glass door.
Tufts of brown grass and leaves tumble from them. In three months no
one’s bothered to clean any of it up even though it’s on the street. What
horrors will I find inside?
Taking a breath, I approach the door. Peering through the dark window, I
spot a hint of display shelves inside from waist-height down to the floor.
Two great beams bisect the floor, giving the place its charming industrial
feel. A long banner stretches between them. Back in the corner rests the
counter where I’d spent a couple of summers pretending I ran the store.
Tourists found the girl in pigtails counting back change hilarious.
My hazy memories turn to mold as I remember why I’m here. Someone
stuck a white envelope to the door with my name on it. The damp air has
undone most of the tape. It falls open in my hands.
Ms. Violette Reely,
Per the arrangements of the will, all of the paperwork to transfer the sole
proprietorship of the store known as Goudafellas into your name has been
completed. Please contact my firm if you need any more assistance.
Thunder claps and I yelp. Nervously, I peek over my shoulder. No one
cares I’m here. Cars slush on past washing filthy water up the curb toward
my shoes. Maybe wedges and a boho sundress weren’t the best choices for
today.
There’s no more putting this off. Uncle Mateo’s been in the ground for
months. I stick one of the dozen keys in the lock and turn. The lawyers told
me no one’s been in here since his death. I hold my breath and walk into my
childhood.
A loud ring bursts from behind me. I spin back, expecting to come face to
face with an alarm system I accidentally triggered. Then, another more
incensed ring rises from my back, and I sigh. “It’s your phone,” I say to
calm myself and answer it without checking.
“Vi—”
“Hi, Mom.” I bury the exhaustion in my voice.
“Have you finished yet? I haven’t heard from you for hours.”
She isn’t going to like this. I blink at the dark store while seeing my
mother, red claws clutching her landline as she tears a vitamin packet with
her teeth and dumps the pills into her smoothie. Steadying myself, I say,
“The plane was delayed. I’m afraid I just got there.”
“What? But it’s almost nightfall!” Panic doesn’t so much seep into her
voice as ram it with a truck.
I pass the phone to my left hand and hunt for a light switch. “I know,
Mom.”
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