Welcome to Upside-Down Falls

Part 3: Good Things, Sad Things and Surprising Things.

Mom was already comfortably settled into a small apartment above the We Sell Everything and More store when I arrived in town.

I'm not entirely sure how that name is supposed to make sense. How can one sell more than everything?

When I asked Mrs Fawn, the owner, that excellent question, she told me that it's been the name of the store since before she was born and that it is just confusing enough to lure people into the shop for a look around and eventually, they forget about the luring part and turn into customers who actually buy something... which is probably where the more comes in, since they didn't go in there to buy everything... or anything at all... It's a system that has worked well for many generations of Fawns, and she is not about to change it.

I could not argue with that kind of superior logic.

Mom, being the ever-efficient workaholic that she is (I did mention that she's one, right?), had a functioning (as much as the absolutely terrible internet connection allowed) office set-up and was able to work remotely to keep her finger on the surprisingly active pulse of her art gallery... most of the time. Fortunately, she could also rely on her partner, Christina, to run the gallery in her absence when communication broke down, as it often does in the town of Upside-Down Falls.

Mom and Gran have always had a close but odd relationship. Anyone who did not know them well would have been surprised that they had not beaten each other senseless with angry squirrels yet.

Bickering was their love language.

They happily argued about everything and anything all the time. Well, almost everything...

Mom never approved of Gran living on her own in her small cottage, but that was the one thing they never argued about. I guess Mom knew that it would be pointless to try to get Hazel Merriweather to move into town or get a trustworthy roommate.

Merriweathers are stubborn creatures, and Gran was the reigning queen of that stubbornness until the day she peacefully passed away in her sleep, sitting under her favourite tree, nearly six months after Mom and I moved into the apartment above We Sell Everything and More .

Mom was devastated, of course, as was I. I was also really glad that I made the trip and got to spend some time with Gran, doing the things we used to do when I was a child, such as looking at her collection of feathers, stones, and other interesting and strange items.

There were, regrettably, no more walks in the forest, though.

Hazel Merriweather longed to go outside into the forest she loved so much but contented herself with gardening with us instead. Or rather, instructing us while she rested in the shade and we did all the manual labour.

Gran didn't seem to be ill, and the doctors at Haven Hill Hospital in Haven Hill, the nearest city, didn't find anything wrong with her aside from the injured hip resulting from her fall from the tree.

She was just... tired.

A month after my dear gran's passing, Mom started to make plans to go back to her life in the city. There was, after all, nothing to keep her in Upside-Down Falls, and she was missing her gallery and her clients.

I, however, decided to stay.

I felt that I had already begun to establish a new life in Upside-Down Falls. I started working at the veterinary clinic as an assistant for Gillian Bell. The woman drives me up the walls on a good day and on a bad one; I jump up there voluntarily just to get away from her, but by the time Mom was getting ready to leave, Gill and I had become the best of friends... well, we probably became best friends on day one already, because that was the first time she drove me up the walls. I think it is her way of bonding with people.

To my surprise, Mom was not surprised about my decision.

"I thought that you might stay," she'd said with a wink. I guess she has just always been able to read me like a comic strip and always knew what I wanted to do, long before I did. She left after we made some plans for Christmas, and I kept the small apartment above We Sell Everything and More.

That brings me to where I'm standing in the back room of the clinic, where the sick and injured animals are housed. I'm covered in poop again, thinking about Gran, when Gillian bursts through the door. Her curly, red hair makes it seem as though her head is on fire, and it might very well be because she is frantic.

"Holls!" she yells as if I am not standing only a few steps away from her wrestling with a poop scoop that got stuck in a cage when I was pulling it out and is scattering my collection of droppings everywhere except in the poop bucket at my feet, where I was going to dump it. "There is someone here who wants to have a word with you!"

Ugh. I hate it when she calls me Holls.

That's all? She came charging in here like she's invading England, just to tell me that I have a visitor?! Bella, the crow with the broken wing, is in a mood and making such a racket now that I have no choice but to yell too. "Who?!"

"I can hardly hear myself over this bloody bird's shrieking! What the heck is your problem?" Gillian is yelling at the crow while I walk past her to go see who would possibly come to visit me here. Contrary to the current evidence, Gill really loves animals.

"Fire! Fire!" Bella squawks back at her.

I snort, trying not to laugh, and Gillian glares at me, pointing to the door before I can ask any more questions or point out that her hair really does look like flames, especially when it's all crazy the way it is at the moment. That was a rather astute observation on Bella's part.

When I enter the waiting room, there is a gentleman sitting on one of the stuffed seats, looking rather warily at his surroundings as if he is expecting a sudden attack from one of the creatures we can hear squawking and barking and bellowing in the room where Gillian is still arguing with a crow.

"Good afternoon, Ms Merriweather," he says, jumping to his feet and sticking out his hand in greeting. I automatically stick my hand out too, and when I see the man's horrified expression, I follow his gaze to my hand, still wearing an exceptionally dirty glove. Shrugging sheepishly, I lower my hand again and hide it with its mate behind my back.

"I don't know if you remember me," he continues, nervously shifting his glasses up his nose. "Name is Abernathy, and I am here to speak to you about your grandmother's cottage."

He seems to be waiting for some kind of highly insightful response from me or perhaps a proclamation of how well I remember him - which I don't - because he is watching me with narrowed eyes the colour of water, looking expectant and just a little bit uncertain as well. Perhaps he is afraid that if I do remember him, I'll insist on a hug. My apron is even dirtier than my gloves.

Dumbfounded, I just stand there, still covered in poop and gaping like a fish, trying to make sense of the man's words. There will not be any proclamations made by me today, and the man is in no danger of being hugged.

"I have some documents here for you to sign," he continues after clearing his throat a few times, trying to regain his composure. I think my slack-jawed silence might've taken the wind out of his sails and messed up the speech he had prepared. "Then the cottage, as well as her land, will belong to you."

Apparently, I can make proclamations after all; I am now loudly and very eloquently proclaiming my confusion and surprise. "Wait... What?!"

To be continued in: Laughter, Tears, and the Cheerful Ferret.