The Library
The library behind the green door is one warm room, a paraffin heater, and a librarian named Miss Quill who is either forty or ninety depending on the light.
"Edith's," she says, pleased. "She sat in that nook every week with the riddle books. Said riddles were honest โ the only puzzles that want to be solved." She peers at you. "The town records are in the back, if you're the type. Most aren't. Your aunt was the type."
Somewhere in the stacks, a floorboard creaks with no one on it. Miss Quill doesn't look up. "Settling," she says. "Everything in Wrenfell settles, given time."