Thumb on a Diamond Read Free Page A

stood on the dock, leaning on her cane and staring out at the mountains across the sound. Big Charlie slapped Mr. Entwhistle on the back again and announced that he had to go and check his boat. Mr. Entwhistle walked up close to Annie.
    â€œAre you watching the boats leave?” asked Mr. Entwhistle. “Do you have a husband or a son or daughter on one of them?”
    â€œI have no relatives on any of those boats,” said Annie calmly. “But I do have many friends. Today I am here just to stare at the mountains as they emerge from the fog. It is a sight I have seen thousands of times but love more every day. I can tell you which trees and rocks and streams will be revealed next, as the fog thins. The uncovering still delights me. By the way, I’m Annie. You are that fellow whose boat sank, right?”
    â€œIndeed,” said Mr. Entwhistle. “Gerald Entwhistle.”
    Mr. Entwhistle asked Annie the name of one of the craggy, twisted peaks across the bay.
    â€œThat’s Roger’s Mount,” Annie answered. “It was named after my grandfather because he was the first person to climb it. He didn’t climb it for any particular reason. He just hated not knowing what was on the other side.”
    â€œDo you ever wonder what’s on the other side?”
    Annie laughed. “No. I like to make up what might be on the other side. I don’t need facts. Facts just get in the way.”
    Mr. Entwhistle asked Annie the names of three waterfalls, two valleys between peaks and a huge rock perched on the side of Roger’s Mount. He asked about a small, blue-ice glacier. Annie knew the names of everything and at least three stories about each.
    â€œAre there any beaver around here?” asked Mr. Entwhistle.
    â€œOh, my, yes,” said Annie, laughing. “They’re in all the bogs around the bay. When the snow melts, it runs down the cliffs and settles into craters along the shore. We get our water from a pond halfway up the mountain behind us. We have to stop beaver from building in the pond about once a month. Can’t have them living in our drinking water, you know.”
    â€œSo, a person could see plenty of beaver just by riding around the bay in a rowboat?”
    â€œYes. Of course.”
    Mr. Entwhistle thanked her, tipped his hat, backed away from the dock and slowly walked through the village, humming.
    After about an hour he came back to the dock and asked Big Charlie Semanov if the Addison house, which was empty, was for sale.
    â€œThere’s not much room in our village,” said Big Charlie, barely paying attention as he inspected a fishing net hung to dry. “We’ve got a mountain behind us and the ocean in front. There’s only room for so many buildings. But most of the young people don’t stay. They go to Prince Rupert and work there. Nobody can sell you that empty house because there aren’t any records down in Victoria to say who owns which piece of our beach. Our village is listed as a company and the company owns the village. It’s easier that way.”
    Big Charlie turned and inspected Mr. Entwhistle with the same eye he used when he was looking for flaws in his nets.
    â€œTell you what,” he said at last. “Fix the Addison house and you can stay as long as you want. You can’t buy it but you can’t sell it when you leave, either. Any improvements you make will have to stay with the house. Fair?”
    â€œFair.”
    â€œTell me, though. This morning you were anxious to get away from here as fast as you could. Now you want to buy a house and stay. You might want to wait another hour or two. Maybe you’ll change your mind again,” said Big Charlie with a chuckle.
    â€œI’ll tell you why I want to stay,” said Mr. Entwhistle. “I’m not homesick here. It surprises me, really. I’ve been homesick for years. I always thought that I was homesick for my country