It's her.

I turned and there she was.

Her shoulder-length dirty blonde swayed as she walked towards me, her green eyes still glinting in the low but warm light of the pub. Fair skin, a really cute and those crinkles near her eyes as she smiled.

Oof, that smile.

It's as if the all the wears and tears of the world went away, the weight on the shoulders disappeared and the soul lightened with that smile. I wouldn't admit it to anyone but her, but its as if a elfin mountain spirit was caressing my face, soothing and peaceful.

She was wearing a light blue sweater that matched well with her hair and a dark wash jeans hugging those shapely legs, paired with ankle boots.

She was Elly, my friend. My best friend for the last 3 or so years.

As she reached near, I swept her in a hug. Compared to my 6 ft 8' frame, she was basically tiny. As I straightened, and lifted her up in the hug, she hugged back. I didn't release her. She tapped my back. I still held her and smirked.

"Release me, you oaf!" Came out her muffled cry, as her face was smushed on my chest. When I chuckled, she growled a little and flailed her legs and kicked lightly on my right leg.

I plopped her down and said, "Hey, tiny." I deliberately angled my head down and grinned.

She huffed and slapped my chest slightly. "You're clearly feeling better if you're teasing me already." A little of her British accent bled through. It had mellowed out, her being in the US since she was in college.

"Well that must be so, clearly, because you're here."

A snort and a cough, that suspiciously sounded like Jill, was heard.

Her lips twitched and a small smile peeked out. "Ugh, enough of your joking."

I wasn't joking.

She turned to Jill, "Good evening, Jill. A beer for me and a craft for the towering oaf here. And our regular. Thanks!" She finished with a smile.

She then beckoned me to an empty table near the window. The seats here were more comfortable than in the middle, that's probably why she chose it. I smiled a little.

"So how goes the sleuthing, Holmes?" She asked as she leaned in conspiratorially.

"It goes well, my dear Watson." I too, mirrored her.

"Clearly feeling knackered, are you?" She said, deliberately stressing her old accent.

"Ah," I nodded sagely, "Now you've firmly established the obvious."

Then we burst out laughing. It wasn't that the joke was particularly funny to everyone. But it was for us. She was a psychology doctorate and a therapist. She had helped me with some serious cases in the past, profiling suspects. And her surname was Watson, Elly Watson.

Meanwhile I was a PI, used a cane occasionally.

We had to, right?

"Really though, you sounded tired when you called. Tough case?" She asked genuinely.

"Nah. More annoying than tough, you can say. I had to shadow a guy, who I never want to meet again in my life, then couple of background checks and you know, the usual." I finished the last with a groan.

She snickered, but looked at me sympathetically. Infidelity investigations were not fun. Going through all the sordid details of someone's extra-marital affairs was headache inducing. Not to mention, it inspired such confidence in the institution of marriage.

Because of my relatively successful venture, even cases from the big city itself came my way. Rich housewives and husbands had the perfect cover to go out of town and visit the country.

I even have an email service and a website setup, people!

"Goodness, those housewives seem to flock your office, don't they?" She said, naughtily.

I stifled a groan and shook my head at that notion.

"Enough about me. What about you? How was your trip?" I asked her, anticipating.

She smiled brightly now. "They accepted it!"

We high fived.

Elly had gone to State University for her book to be included in their library. It was a great honour to have your book published, top-listed and then selected to be included somewhere it would be actually studied.

"The Psychology of Creativity" was now going to be referenced by future students of psychology. I was proud of her.

And yes, I had read it. Understood it even. Discussed it with her on multiple occasions. Though, I only minored in psychology, talking with her about her reasearch and studies was always fun. It was another point we could talk about, among the endless topics we had chattered about.

We excitedly discussed what that could mean and her future book she was in the process of writing. Then I shared few anecdotes of my recent cases, as vaguely as possible, to make her laugh. I needed to be discreet in my job so the vagueness was necessary. And she was a steel trap of secrets, I trusted her.

Food and drinks arrived and so did a good time. We talked and talked and laughed. Last week's burdens washed away with hours of laughter.

As the night grew dark, we exited the pub and took a walk around the block. The night sky was clear and clear of clouds. The moon's light was diminished by its half waxed state.

It'll be full moon by the month's end. I thought idly.

As we neared the parking spot, a chilly wind blew. I winced as an ache went through my left leg.

"Heavens, why won't you use your cane, Jake?" Elly gently chided, her arm swiftly circling my back for support. I leaned a little on her.

"It was fine for a while, but with the temperature dropping everyday..."

She shook her head at me. It was famously known in my small circle of friends, acquaintances and ah, co-workers that I didn't like to rely on the cane.

Although she had talked me into using it more often. She had a way of being reasonable without psychoanalysing me. Another point already in her favor.

After a bout of silence, she spoke, "You're coming to this year's Harvest Festival, right? No cases this time around, mister. You promised me!"

"Calm down, tiny," I chuckled at her, "I promised, didn't I? I will be there." I squeezed her shoulder for good measure.

She smiled that little shy smile, her head down and a little flush up her neck, I couldn't see it, but I knew it was there.

The Harvest Festival for the five sibling towns of Aspen Ridge, Riveron, Summerton, Bear's Creek and Skyridge was a big deal every year. It started in the first week of September and lasted two weeks. Yes, it was a big deal, indeed.

Tourists, city people, townspeople and people from the countryside a bit farther out, came out to celebrate. Every town took turns every year to host the main event of the Festival.

And I had missed it last year and so had she. Me, being away for a security consultation gig, out of state. And her back at home, Blue Hill, a sleepy town 2 hours from London. Her Mum had been sick. And also a change of pace for her after her breakup with her longtime girlfriend Hailey, my then unofficial therapist, few months prior.

So this year's plan was long time coming and agreed upon.

We had a back and forth about her coming with me to settle me in, but I convinced her not to, saying I would be fine. Although ****, she asked me to call her when I was home.

We lived in the same town, practically 15 minutes apart, and you'd think I was going to other side of the mountains.

But I didn't roll my eyes at her or scoff. I smiled softly, a warmth in my chest that I refused to explain and hugged her.

Watched her give me that brilliant smile, and then her driving away, her car disappearing around the corner.