Silent Harbour

Chapter 2: Discovery at the Farm

September 20, 2025

I wake to a brisk breeze that sends a shiver through the hairs on my left arm, sprawled over the mattress's edge. It's surprisingly chilly for September. I realize I've left the bedroom window slightly ajar. I clamber out of bed, begrudgingly leaving behind the warm cocoon of the duvet and slam the window shut.

It's half past seven, and the brokerage opens at nine. I step into the shower, turning the water to its hottest setting. The scalding heat forces me to adjust the nozzle but to no avail. Just what I need, another item on the ever-growing list of things to fix before the open house. Giving up a minute later, I turn off the water, wrap myself in a towel, and make my way to the closet. Haphazardly, I throw on a pair of jeans and an old wool jumper before heading down to the kitchen.

As I sip on a cup of instant coffee, I casually browse through today's newspaper. We still get it in print. Mum would leave the kid who delivers it $10 in an envelope on the veranda every Saturday morning.

I flip through the pages taking in the scent of paper fresh off the press when I spot a picture of Pete standing awkwardly next to a man of about 70 years. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion, and his mouth was set in a hard line like a grimace. The man's hair was about shoulder-length and jet black. Though I had never met him in person, I recognized the man as Peter's uncle Arthur or 'Artie' Rochester.

Peter's mother died when he was a baby. He didn't ever talk about it. His father was in prison for drug smuggling and armed robbery, and Arthur was his father's younger brother. "Rochester Farm: sold for $13.2 million to Vista Ventures Development Inc," reads the headline.

Arthur didn't seem like the type of man who'd be happy about land developers descending on Silent Harbour and meddling with his farm's affairs, but I guess everyone has a price. I make a note in my head to ask Peter about the sale when I see him later today.

I glance at the time on my watch: 8:25. I set the paper and my coffee mug aside, grab my car keys from the counter and hurry out the front door without looking back.

**********

The gray Honda Civic pulled up to the little office building at 1701 Perry Street 10 minutes to nine. It was the same car I'd had since I was eighteen. No point in selling it now that it was worth nothing. There were only two other cars in the lot– a blue Hyundai Elantra, and a rusty red Toyota Corolla.

I walked over towards suite 106.

HARMONY HOMES INC

The sign in the window is still flipped to 'CLOSED.' I pull my cell phone out of my coat pocket and try to turn it on, but it's dead. Damnit, the bedside outlet must be busted. Instead, I fidget with the buttons on my coat and watch as a squirrel scurries across the parking lot and off onto the other side of the road.

Suddenly, there's a thump of the sign hitting the window as an arm reaches to turn it to read 'OPEN.' I turn towards the door as it swings open, and I'm greeted by a woman with a warm smile. "Early bird gets the worm, isn't that right hun?" She grins at me and motions with her hand for me to come in. I follow her into a cozy-looking sitting room complete with a plum-colored velvet sofa, and four armchairs arranged neatly around a wooden side table covered in magazines and copies of today's paper. 'You must be Ms. Emery Pierce, the first appointment of the day,' she quipped.

I smile politely. "Yes. I'm not sure who I'm seeing today, but my mother, Esther, had this appointment booked a few weeks back." She nods and sighs, "Oh, I've been here for ages and I remember your mother coming here when she and your father were new to town." I feel a pang of sadness as I realize that this must have been the same place my parents had come to when they signed the papers to buy the house.