The Elf Widow

Motivation

As David stared at Ian, he could feel his shoulders tensing and his jaw tightening. Joking about hobgoblins and bugbears was one thing. The old man standing before him pretending a young woman he had known in the previous century was the same young woman David had been getting to know this past week, well, that was quite another. He was a programmer at heart. Variables had defined attributes. One didn't add two and two and get back a mango.

Suddenly, David laughed. "You had me going there for a minute. I've met a young lady with exactly the same name. Obviously, she's a relative named after the young lady you knew. I knew a guy at uni who introduced himself as Skinny Jock. That's because his grandfather was Old Jock, his uncle was Jock Junior and a cousin was Young Jock."

Ian didn't respond. He'd folded his arms tightly across his bony chest. "You've met Aubrey Wisheart?"

"Why, yes. Of course, I have." David smiled. Already, he could feel his pulse calming. "That explains why that tart is like the one you remember. Family recipe."

"Aubrey Wisheart," Ian murmured, repeating the full name yet again. "I wonder if Aubrey Wisheart would... No. Probably... Better not."

David turned his head slightly. Was the old man playing a trick on him after all? Ian Ferguson had to know the present-day Aubrey Wisheart as well as the one from his childhood. Even if he'd hired her sight unseen through an employment service, surely he'd been told her name. Or maybe the service—Merry Fairies, Elite Elves, Glaistigs Are Us or whatever it was—assigned the cleaner and all the customer ever saw was the company name.

Yeah, that has to be it.

But David couldn't bring himself to ask. After all, didn't he have an endless number of other things to do? It would be downright wrong to waste time on more chitchat when he'd already figured everything out.

Ian sucked the crumbs off his fingers. "My mum made me repeat an incantation to banish Aubrey Wisheart, made me tell her to ne'er more trouble my life on God's good green earth or God would strike me dead." He sighed. "When one says words like that, there's no taking them back."

Nonsense. Absolute nonsense.

"I'm sure you have lots of other business to attend to. You didn't come all this way to stroll down memory lane." David cleared his throat. "As far as this rental is concerned, we're... happy. Everything's as stated in the lease. If we have any issues, we'll call. So... if there's nothing else..."

"Not that I can think of." Ian cocked his head. "Say hey to Aubrey for me. Tell her... I remember."

After parting words like that, David couldn't close the door behind their departing landlord fast enough. Typical villager, he thought, always ready to play tricks on anyone he saw as big city folk. The next time he went into his pub, he'd be regaling his pals with lies about how he'd tricked his young tenant into swallowing a folk tale. If this were Loch Ness rather than the outskirts of Glasgow, he'd be going on about the last time he saw the monster instead.

Well, let him. David had better things to do.

Yet hours later, he found himself mulling over the look of wistful longing in the old man's eyes. That had been real.

"You haven't heard a word I've said," Jack grumbled.

"Uh, yeah. Sure I have. Tomorrow when we talk to Nicola, everyone needs charts and figures."

"Exactly three minutes worth each. And the graphics need to be tiptop. Nicola needs both the bacon and the sizzle."

David massaged his forehead. Nothing ate up work time as much as reporting on how one had spent one's work time. "So long as everyone gets me their figures, I'll handle the graphics."