The battered old van rolled into Rookpoint as the sun slipped below the horizon. The worn vehicle was speckled with grime and dirt, and one of the tires had gone partially flat after the long drive. The engine gave a low, rattling hum that tried unsuccessfully to blend with the distant cries of the seagulls circling over the harbor. Samuel Carter tightened his grip on the wheel, eyes flicking towards the rearview mirror as he watched the haphazardly stacked boxes shifting with each bump in the road.
"Almost there," he muttered, more to himself than to Savannah, who sat in the passenger seat next to him. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees as she stared out the window, taking in the sight of the town for the first time. Narrow streets lined with old brick buildings and wooden storefronts stretched out before them, dimly lit by antique black streetlamps. The town looked peaceful – too peaceful, maybe.
Savannah hesitated before speaking. "Do you… do you think we'll find a place tonight?" she asked. Her voice was soft and quiet, almost drowned out b y the creaks and groans of the van.
"We'll manage," Samuel replied without looking at her. His tone was flat and even, but there was a certain reassurance to the way he said it. As if it was a statement of fact rather than a hopeful guess. "If we don't, I'll sleep in the front seat. You can take the couch in the back – I'll put some blankets on it for you." He glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. "Either way, I'll keep watch."
Savannah frowned, but didn't argue with him. It was useless – this was just how he was. Practical, direct, and never one to indulge in what-ifs. He had taken care of everything since they'd left their old lives behind, and she trusted him. Still, the idea of sleeping in the van wasn't exactly comforting.
The van rumbled along the uneven cobblestone road before coming to a slow stop at an intersection. Samuel leaned forward, scanning the nearby buildings. The storefronts were quiet, their windows reflecting the faint golden glow of the streetlamps. He looked at them for several long moments before spotting a weathered sign mounted above one of the shops: Green Legacy Booksellers.
"Let's check there," he said, already turning the wheel towards the building.
Savannah followed his gaze, her brow furrowing. "A bookstore?"
"Looks like there are apartments above it," Samuel said. "Could be for rent."
He pulled the van up to the curb, cutting the engine. It gave a final, weary cough and sputter, and both of them sat in silence for a moment. The sudden quiet was almost jarring after several hours of driving. Samuel stretched his arms before pushing open the door, stepping out into the cool evening air. His boots splashed in the lingering puddles as Savannah followed, clutching her jacked tightly around her to ward off the chill.
The bookstore had a kind of rustic, old-fashioned charm with large bay windows and wood paneling. A dark green door was framed by a pair of benches, and the windows were filled with displays of books. Some were old, antique volumes with leather bindings and ages of wear and tear, but others were more contemporary and modern. Each display had been carefully arranged around a small collection of potted plants in different urns, pots, planters, and jars. A warm, inviting glow spilled out onto the sidewalk from the store interior, almost beckoning for them to come in.
Samuel didn't waste any time. He marched up to the door and knocked firmly on the wood, the sound echoing dully in the store. Savannah lingered a step or two behind him, her gaze darting nervously around the empty street. Fog had begun to collect between the old buildings, giving the town an atmosphere that felt like a Charles Dickens novel.
A moment later, the door creaked open and a woman stepped out. She was tall and thin, with silvery hair that flowed down over her shoulders all the way down to her hips in gentle waves. Her smile was kind, but there was something absentminded in her eyes, as if she was staring through the two people outside her shop. As if her thoughts were perpetually elsewhere.
"Oh, hello there," she greeted, her voice light and melodic. "Oh my, are you looking for books at this hour? I was just about to close up for the day."
"We're looking for a place to say," Samuel said. "I saw there was an apartment upstairs – is it available?"
The woman blinked, tilting her head and staring at him with a stare that made it seem like the was trying very hard to understand his words. "Oh, the apartment?" she asked, blinking at him. "Yes, it's available. I suppose I haven't rented it out yet, have I?" she chuckled softly, as though amused by her own forgetfulness. "I'm Grace. Grace Nolan. I run the bookstore and, well, I suppose I own the building too." She stepped aside, gesturing for them to come in. "Come inside, and we can talk."
Samuel hesitated for only a fraction of a second before stepping over the threshold. Savannah trailed behind him, taking in the cozy interior of the bookshop. It smelled of paper and lavender, and the shelves were crammed full with books of every shape and size. A small counter at the back was cluttered with receipts, a half-empty cup of tea, and what appeared to be a menagerie of tiny, ceramic animals.
"So," Grace began, closing the door and clasping her hands as she turned to face them. "You're new in town, I take it?"
"Just arrived," Samuel said, looking around the shop and taking in the details and decoration. It felt too cluttered for him, but he could see Savannah delighting in the various nicknacks on the shelves. "We're looking for somewhere to stay. Maybe even long term."
"Well, you've come to the right place. Rookpoint is a lovely little town," Grace said brightly. "Quiet, friendly, and full of charming people." She smiled at Savannah, who managed a tentative smile in return. "The apartment upstairs is small, but cozy. It should suit the two of you just fine."
"How much?" Samuel asked, cutting straight to the point.
Grace waved one of her hands dismissively. "Oh, we'll sort all that out later. You must have had a long journey. For now, why don't you take a look. I can give you the keys, and you can decide in the morning. No pressure."
Samuel glanced at Savannah for a moment, skepticism evident in his eyes, before he turned his gaze back to Grace. He dug in his leather jacket and pulled out a faded leather wallet. He took out a few bills and held them out to Grace. "We'll take it for the night," he said gruffly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Just until we decide if we're staying."
Grace looked down at the money in his hand, blinking in mild surprise. "Oh, you don't have to—"
"I'm not taking charity," Samuel interrupted firmly.
For several seconds, Grace simply stared at him as if she was seeing straight through him. She smiled wistfully before giving him as oft, airy laugh as if his bluntness amused her. "Well, if you insist," she said, taking the money gently. "You know, you remind me of Marcus – very serious." She smiled dreamily, tucking the money into her pocket as she continued. "And speaking of Marcus, if you're planning to stay, you might want to visit Ocean's Gate. He's been looking for a new bouncer ever since Wesley drove off the last one."
"Wesley?" Savannah asked curiously, stepping closer.
"Oh yes! He's the bartender; always making trouble in his own charming way." Grace's tone was light and airy, but there was a teasing note to it. As if she found Wesley's antics endlessly amusing. "He doesn't like people from out of town very much, and he's a bit sharp-tongued, but he means well. In his own special way. It's Marcus who runs the place, though. You'll like him – he's very serious." She gave Samuel a pointed look, a mischievous glint in her eye. "He could definitely use someone who knows how to keep things under control."
Samuel gave a noncommittal grunt. He didn't care much for small talk, but work was work. And if it meant they'd have an income, he'd take it. "I'll check it out in the morning."
"Wonderful!" Grace clapped her hands together as if delighted by the idea. "Rookpoint may be small, but there's always something happening. You'll see. Oh, and if you ever need a quiet moment, just stop by here." She smiled warmly at them. "Books can be good company when the world feels too loud."
Savannah offered a polite smile in return. Despite her nervousness about being in a new place, Grace's calm demeanor was oddly comforting. Even if it was in an airy, spacey kind of way. There was something about the way she spoke – her voice was as unhurried and carefree as she was. It was like a breeze carrying away the tension.
"Come along now," she said, motioning towards the door. "I'll show you to the apartment. I'm sure you must be tired."
They followed her back outside into the cool evening air. A slow drizzle of rain was doing its best to dampen the sidewalks as she led them around the side of the building where a narrow wooden staircase wound its way up to the second floor. The wood creaked underfoot as they climbed, the sound harmonizing with the distant crash of waves against the rocky shore. "Here we are," Grace said cheerfully as they reached the landing. It wasn't much – barely big enough for the three of them to stand on – but someone had still managed to fit a bench and another potted plant on it. Their hostess withdrew a key from one of her pockets and unlocked the door with a flourish before pushing it open and gesturing for them to step inside.
The apartment was simple, with polished wooden floors and whitewashed walls. A worn couch sat against one wall, and a small kitchenette occupied the corner near a window that looked down onto the street below. A narrow door led to what Samuel assumed was the bedroom. Everything about the apartment felt modest, but neat and well cared for. Honestly, he'd expected worse.
"It's nothing fancy," Grace said, her tone apologetic, "but it's cozy. And you'll have your privacy."
"It's fine, thanks," Samuel said after a quick glance around. He set his jaw, having already decided it would do for now. Seeing as it was better than sleeping in the van, he wasn't going to complain about having four walls and a roof over his head. "Thanks."
Savannah walked to the window, gazing out at the quiet street below. The streetlamps seemed to glow brighter in the ocean fog, and the drizzle of rain on the eaves was almost peaceful. Comforting. In the distance, over the rooftops across from them, she could just make out the dark expanse of the ocean. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth – despite her earlier worries, there was something about Rookpoint that she liked.
Grace lingered by the door a moment longer, her silver hair catching the light in a way that made her seem almost otherworldly. She rested one of her hands on the doorframe, her expression as dreamy and serene – as it had been since they'd met. "I live downstairs," she said, her voice gentle. "Just behind the bookstore. If you need anything – tea, perhaps, or a good book to read – don't hesitate to knock. I'm usually around, though sometimes I forget where I've wandered off to." She smiled, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say. "Have a good night, you two. Sleep well."
With that, Grace drifted down the stairs, the soft creaking of wood marking her departure. Savannah waited until the sound faded entirely before turning toward Samuel, who was already inspecting the small kitchenette. "She's… nice," Savannah said hesitantly, still unsure of what to make of their peculiar landlady. "A little… spacey, maybe, but nice."
Samuel gave a short grunt in response, opening a cabinet to find it completely empty except for a mismatched set of mugs. "She's got silver hair, but she doesn't look that old," he remarked offhandedly. "Mid-forties, maybe?"
Savannah frowned, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "Don't say it like that. It sounds rude!"
"It's not rude, it's just an observation," Samuel said, closing the cabinet with a faint thud. "You don't see someone her age with hair like that very often."
"Well, maybe it's natural for her," Savannah said defensively. "Or maybe she dyes it. Either way, it's not polite to comment on it like that."
Samuel didn't respond right away. He walked over to the window, resting a hand on the sill as he looked out over the street below them. It was completely quiet, save for a single bicycle bumping its way down the cobblestones. The town itself looked peaceful and quiet, bathed in the glow of the lamps and caressed by the distant crash of waves against the rocks. It was a steady rhythm that seemed to underline everything else. The heartbeat of the town.
"She seems fine," he said after a moment. "Odd, sure, but harmless."
Savannah smiled a little. "I think she likes us," she said. "Not everyone would rent out an apartment on the spot to strangers."
"She didn't really ask a lot of questions," Samuel agreed, his tone slightly wary. "Could be a bad thing, though. People who don't ask questions tend to have something of their own to hide."
"Or she's just kind," Savannah countered. "Not everyone is as suspicious as you are, you know."
Samuel gave her a sidelong glance, but didn't argue further. He knew better than anyone that Savannah always tried to see the best in people, no matter how strange or untrustworthy they seemed. It was one of the few things about her that he knew would never change. It hadn't changed in all the years he'd known her, and it wasn't going to change just because they were in a new environment. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not, but he wasn't going to be the one to crush it. Not when they were already uprooting themselves and trying to leave everything behind the way they were.
"Let's get settled in," he said at last, stepping back from the window. "You take the bed; I'll sleep out here."
Savannah frowned at him, clearly intending to argue with him. "Samuel, you've been driving all day! You should take the bed. I can—"
"I'm fine," Samuel cut in, his tone final and booking no argument. He walked over to the couch and gave it a few quick pushes to check its stability. "I sleep better on a couch anyway."
Savannah frowned harder, unconvinced. "But it's not fair. You—"
"Savannah," he said, glancing at her with the same steady, no-nonsense look he always gave her when didn't want to have a debate. "It's not a big deal. Just go. We'll worry about moving things out of the van in the morning."
For a second, she looked like she might keep arguing, but then sighed in defeat. She knew she wouldn't win against him: Samuel could be as immovable as a rock when he made up his mind. "Fine," she muttered, reluctantly. "But tomorrow night, we're switching."
"Sure," he said, though they both knew it was a lie. He would keep taking the couch as long as they were there.
Savannah hovered in the doorway for a moment longer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve as she looked back at him. "You're really going to check out that bouncer job in the morning?"
"Yeah," he said, sitting down on the couch and stretching out. "This Marcus guy is looking for a bouncer, and it's paying work. We need something steady if we're staying."
She bit her lip. "But… what kind of bar is it? What if it's dangerous?" her voice shook slightly as she asked the question.
He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. "It's a bar, Savannah, not a battlefield. I'll be fine."
"I know but…" she hesitated, her voice softer now. "You don't know anyone in this town yet. You don't know what kind of people go there. What if someone starts a fight? Or tries to—"
"Then I'll stop it," Samuel said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "It'll be what they pay me to do. It's not like I haven't handled things like this before. I did security for a while. I'll be fine. Promise."
Savannah's brows wrinkled as she frowned at him. She didn't doubt Samuel's ability to handle himself—he was strong, capable, and always stayed cool in a crisis—but that didn't make the idea of him working in a potentially dangerous situation any easier for her to accept. Still, she knew she couldn't exactly stop him. Samuel had always been the one to take charge. To keep things steady when life got rough. And right now, more than ever, they needed that stability.
"I just…" she looked down for a moment. "I don't want anything bad to happen."
"Nothing will," Samuel said with a quiet certainty. "I'll check it out. See how it feels. If it's some greasy dive I'll look elsewhere. I'll figure something out. I always do."
Savannah looked up at him. He had one eye closed and the other, icy blue and calm, was staring at her. For all his bluntness, there was something reassuring about the way he spoke. He never sugarcoated things, but he never left room for doubt either. When Samuel said he'd figure something out, he meant it.
"Okay," she said after a moment. "Promise?"
"Promise," Samuel agreed. "Now go get some rest. We've had a long day."
She lingered a second longer before retreating into the bedroom and closing the door with a soft click, leaving Samuel alone in the small living room. He sighed, throwing one arm over his eyes as he did so. Despite Savannah's worries, he didn't feel uneasy here in Rookpoint – which was odd. He didn't really like travel or new places, but something here felt alright. Sure, Grace had been strange—kind, but definitely strange—but the town felt okay. Different from a few of the other places they'd passed through.
One step at a time. Tomorrow, he'd go check out the job. There was no point in thinking too far ahead. They were here now, they had a room for the night, and that was all that mattered.