“I have a question for you Tama. Did you grow up in the main town? I wonder if you came across a lady in black, black head scarf, who maybe often sits on the harbor front of a morning on one of the benches in the park.”
I was making a lot of assumptions—that the lady had been there for a long time, that Tama lived in the town and was not so old as to have left before the lady appeared on the waterfront; even that the lady in question normally frequented the waterfront at all.
“I think you mean Sally Lightfoot,” she nodded as she browsed the screen between us. “Everyone knew her. She went there from Vancouver ages ago; never left. Always shuffling, just the opposite of what you might imagine of a ‘lightfooted’ person; hence her nickname.” Tama smiled broadly.
“Oh. Not much of a story aft
