A Sticky Situation (14 page)

My stop at the police station hadn't made me feel any less like dragging my feet about heading back to Greener Pastures. Now that I knew Grandma was upset I needed the sort of help only pie could provide. In my experience, pie cures just about everything. It fills up any wrinkles in the belly and fuels the brain.

It also makes sure you aren't talking since your mouth is full. Not talking can be a pretty good way to stay out of a lot of trouble. I wasn't fooling Piper though. She brought the slice of pie I had asked for on my way past the counter to my favorite booth at the back of the restaurant. She put the plate in front of me and held a can of whipped cream poised above the slice.

“Spill or there'll be no whipped cream for you.” I made a grab for it but she was too quick.

“What makes you think there's something to share?” I asked, trying to keep my face cheery.

“You only order salted maple cream pie in the case of extreme emotional distress.” That's the thing about lifelong friends, they know all your foibles. If they work in the restaurant business, that extends to your emotional connection to food.

“I've rented Frances Doucette's apartment and am moving out,” I said, extending my plate toward the cream can. “Today.”

“Not what I was expecting.” Piper squirted down on the nozzle and unloaded so much whipped cream the pie looked like it had been in an encounter with the town plow. That's the upside to a lifelong friend in the food industry. They know when not to skimp on the good stuff. “Did Graham pressure you into getting your own place?”

“Nope. I did it to myself.” I went on to explain how I had been thinking more and more often about getting my own place and the visit from Hazel and Jade had given me just the push I needed to take action. From the smile on her face I knew she was happy to hear that I was about to break my grandmother's heart.

“This is great news. There's no way you could invite Graham for a sleepover at Greener Pastures.” She gave me one of her exaggerated winks that make men drive out of their way to stop for coffee at the Stack. It just made me squirm.

“I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience when
I told Priscilla I would take the apartment. I don't know what came over me. And right now is about the worst time of year to not be on the spot with the sugaring.”

“The universe is kicking your butt. You've barely managed to get out of your own tracks since you moved back home after college. I think it's great.”

“I hope it was the right decision because it's too late to change my mind now. You should have seen the way my hand shook when I handed Priscilla the check for the deposit.” I took a bite of pie and savored the rich, sweet flavor and flaky crust as it shattered in my mouth.

“You've been home five years. You know I don't like to nag but it's time for a little acceleration in the growth department.” Piper squirted a bit more whipped cream on my plate like she was trying to soften the blow of her words.

“I've been growing all over the place. Look at the sugaring business. Look at the maple cooperative.”

“Those are all well and good but I'm talking about personal growth. Graham's a great guy and you could really use the opportunity to behave like a normal adult woman without worrying about the eyes of your grandparents landing on you like you were still fifteen years old.”

“It isn't that bad.”

“Of course it isn't bad but it is stagnant.”

“So you really think this is a good thing?”

“I do. You just wait and see. You are going to absolutely love having your own place. Do you need any help moving, because I can have someone fill in for me?”

“Thanks but I already talked to Graham and he said he'd help me take over my clothes and personal items this evening.”

“So you told Graham about the move before you told me?” Piper put her hand on her hip and faked a pout. “I'd say that tells you your relationship with him is becoming a really important part of your life. Yup, the universe is doing a bang-up job of getting you where you need to be whether you like it or not.”

“You might be right.”

“I'm always right. I'll come by later this week instead and you can give me the tour. I've always wondered what Priscilla had tucked away up there on the second floor.”

“It's a date.” I took another bite of pie as I watched Piper glide away to a table filled with men wearing power company uniforms.

Perhaps she was right. Maybe all of this was for the best and I would love living on my own. I just needed to work up the courage to tell the family. I thought about ordering another slice of pie to delay breaking the news but decided to show some personal growth and to head to Greener Pastures instead.

*   *   *

By the time I rolled into the driveway at Greener Pastures my nerves were raw. My emotions about having my own place swung wildly from exhilaration to sheer panic from moment to moment. Especially when I entered the kitchen and saw Grandma sitting in the old rocker with her eyes closed. For a second I thought the worst but her
eyes fluttered open and she gave me an uncharacteristic scowl.

“It seems you've had quite the day, young lady.”

“Are you angry at me?” I pulled up a chair from the table next to her and took her hand.

“Of course not. But I do wish you'd told us yourself that you'd been thinking of getting your own place. And for you to move out so suddenly feels even worse.”

“It wasn't on purpose. I just fell in love with the apartment and after what happened with Hazel taking my car and Jade being here permanently I just heard myself offering to rent the place before I even thought it through. I didn't do it to hurt anyone. And I really think it is for the best. At least for now.”

“What will we do without you?”

“I'll be here every day anyway. It's not like I'm moving out of state and I'm not going to start a sugarhouse at Stems and Hems.”

“Hazel said you were moving in tonight. That doesn't even leave time for me to make a send-off dinner for you. Not that anyone else is home to eat it anyway.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Your mother said something about spending the evening with Lowell. Celadon and her family went out to a movie. Your grandfather and Loden are at a poker game. Jade is planning to work late and Hazel left without a word after she dropped the bomb about your apartment.”

“Graham's meeting me here to help me move. I'm sure he could be persuaded to put off the work until he's enjoyed one of your meals.”

“That would be nice. But it won't be anything fancy.” Grandma hopped up out of the rocker like she'd gotten her spirits back.

“Your ‘not fancy' is my favorite kind of a meal.” I gave her a smile. “And if no one else is here there's sure to be some leftovers. I wouldn't say no to a doggy bag as I head out the door.” As soon as I said it I remembered what my mother said about me slipping out of the house through a doggy door and wondered if my leaving was what that image meant.

“Of course, my dear, I'll send you with a whole cooler full of leftovers. I expect there isn't any food in the fridge at the apartment and you know how worried I am about you starving to death.”

*   *   *

“Are you sure this was everything?” Graham looked at the small stack of boxes and luggage on the floor of the apartment. “No more clothes or shoes or books or anything?”

“Clothes aren't really my thing.” I had always hated shopping. At just barely four foot ten everything was always too long. Most of my clothing ended up coming from the children's department, which didn't really make for the best shopping experience. I stuck to the basics like jeans and plain T-shirts. With so few glamorous choices it was easier just to not bother with my personal style any more than I had to.

The entire contents of my wardrobe fit into two suitcases and that included my outdoor gear. I had an even worse relationship with shoes. When most of the dress
shoes in my size were Mary Janes, shoe shopping was just depressing. I felt Graham staring at me and turned to face him. “What? What is it?”

“Are you saying no clothes is your thing?” I felt the hot rush of blood crawling up my throat and over my face.

“I'm saying I'm not a clothing enthusiast.” That wasn't any better. Graham took a big step in my direction and pulled me toward him. “I mean, I don't like to shop.”

“What do you like to do?” Graham bent low and whispered in my ear. It was late enough in the evening that his five o'clock shadow had grown in and scratched at my cheek.

“I'd like to give you the tour of the place.” I pulled away from his embrace and took his hand. “Come, let me show it to you.” I showed him the tiny kitchen and the even smaller bathroom.

“It suits you well. It's almost like it was built just for you.” Graham took my hand and we headed back to the living room. “You look run off your feet. Shall we sit for a while?” I led him to the love seat and we sat, the quiet wrapping around us like an embrace.

“You know what's the only thing I can think of that would make this better?” Graham asked.

“No, what?” I braced myself for his response. We had all the privacy I could have wished for and I had even miraculously decided to shave my legs the night before.

“A scruffy little dog sitting here on the couch with us.” I wasn't sure if I felt more relieved or disappointed.
But I was pleased to think Graham and I were on the same page about dogs. That's one of those issues that can be a deal breaker in a relationship.

“It's funny you should say that. I asked Priscilla about dogs before I took the apartment. She said it would be fine to have one. I've always wanted one but since Celadon is allergic to them we never had one growing up.”

“How about once you get settled in a bit more we make a date to go to the local animal shelters and see if we can find a dog for you.”

“That sounds like fun but are you sure you'll have time to go with me? You've been just as busy at work lately as I have.”

“No matter how busy work gets I'll find the time. I have an ulterior motive.” I felt my stomach flutter as Graham pulled me a little closer to him.

“Dare I ask what that is?”

“The way I see it, in order for me to reach my happily ever after you'll need to find a dog that likes us both.” With that, he gave me the sort of kiss that makes your eyeballs go into a tilt, and then let himself out the door without another word. Living on my own clearly had its advantages.

Grampa stood under the bird feeders filling a long tube-style one with thistle seed. Chickadees paid no attention to his presence as they landed on the mixed-seed feeder and filled their beaks. From their frenzied eating it looked like the weather report's prediction of a storm was liable to be accurate. The birds always knew when something was brewing and from the way the jays and other birds were hovering in the bushes waiting for us to leave I was pretty sure we were in for quite a blow.

“Need a hand, Grampa?” I asked. Grampa and I have filled feeders together in preparation for storms since I was big enough to pull on my own snow boots. I felt a lump in my throat as I thought about being in my apartment and not having any birds to look at as I sipped my
morning coffee. Grampa must have been thinking the same thing.

“I've just finished. Besides, you're the one who needs the help, kiddo. Come into the barn and see what I picked up for you at the hardware store.”

Grampa led the way along the path he had carved out with the snowblower between the house and the feeder and the feeder and the barn. He stopped to tuck the bag of thistle seed back in its bin and then made his way to a bench at the back of the barn.

“I thought you might need an apartment-warming present and I couldn't think of anything better than this.” He handed me a paper bag full of something ridged and squared off. I stuck my hand in and pulled out a wooden and clear plastic contraption.

“Is this a feeder?”

“Yup. It attaches to a window and you can feed the birds from inside the house. I wanted to get something that you could see well up on the second floor. I thought without the birds you might be lonesome at your breakfast table.”

“You always know just what to say.” I put the feeder back on the bench and wrapped my arms around him. I felt tears filling my eyes and I was glad he couldn't see my face as he hugged me back. The advantage didn't last long. The more I tried to collect myself before he realized I was crying, the worse it got. Before long, sobs were shaking me hard enough to give me away.

“Do you remember that year when we were shopping
for plants for that flower bed your grandmother wanted us to put in for Mother's Day?” Grampa asked as he dug round in his back pocket and handed me a handkerchief. I nodded my head and scraped my face against the roughness of his coat. “I showed you that you should slide plants out of their pots in order to look at the roots before buying them. Do you remember why?”

I cleared my throat. “You said if the plant had been left in too small a pot for too long the roots would start to grow around in a circle because they didn't have anywhere else to go.”

“And what was wrong with that?”

“You said that unless the gardener pried apart the roots and cut them a bit if necessary the plant would keep growing its roots in a circle even once planted in a hole in the ground. It wouldn't know any other way to be.”

“Exactly. People are pretty much the same way. Your roots are important. They anchor you and support your growth but without a new pot every once in a while, you'll end up stunted.”

“I'm already stunted.” At least that's how it always felt when I tried to buy pants. Everything needed to be hemmed up by at least three inches or rolled so many times it looked like my ankles had spare tires.

“Not in ways that count, you aren't, but if you stay in this small pot for too much longer I'm worried you might be.”

“So you think I was right to rent the apartment?” I pulled away and looked him in the eye.

“We all think it was the right thing to do even if it is a hard thing to get used to.”

“Thanks, Grampa. I needed to hear that.”

“Anything else I can do to set your mind at ease?” he asked. Grampa took the bird feeder from my hands and slid it back into the paper bag.

“Now that you mention it I did have something to ask you besides just whether or not you needed help with the bird feeders.”

“I thought as much. So what was it?”

“I've promised Tansey I'd look into what happened to the money Spooner supposedly stole.” I watched as Grampa grabbed hold of the end of his beard and started twisting it around the end of a gnarled finger the way he always does when he's agitated. “Don't worry, she told me all about her relationship with Spooner and what it has to do with Knowlton.”

“Well, that's a relief. Some secrets feel like they're just itching to get out.” Grampa dropped his beard before he managed to tie a knot in the end.

“And some don't. Like what really happened to Spooner and to the money. Which is what I wanted to ask you. Do you remember Pastor Gifford going over the deep end during his sermon the Sunday of the festival? Something to do with Spooner trying to get too friendly with his daughter Sarah?”

“I do remember that. The pastor was all het up and your grandmother was starting to make that leaky whistling sound. You know the one she makes when she's
just about to boil over? I could hear her from my seat all the way up at the front of the church.”

I did know the sound he meant. You know how the phone ringing at three in the morning or the sound of squealing brakes from the street turns a lot of people's blood to slush? For my family, Grandma's whistle noise strikes that kind of fear in our hearts.

I don't even think she's aware she's doing it. It starts out as a loudish sigh then morphs into hurricane-force winds pressed through a gap the size of a nostril. When you hear that sound, it is a sure sign Grandma is about to blow.

“I heard you were the only thing that saved the congregants' Sunday dinners from turning into burnt offerings.”

“When your grandmother gets into one of those moods I'll do just about anything to turn her around and that includes cutting short a tirade I was sure didn't flow straight from God's lips to the pastor's ear. But what has that got to do with the money?”

“I was wondering if you thought the pastor was angry enough to have done something about Spooner himself.”

“You're asking if I thought the pastor was angry enough to kill him and then hide the body?”

“Unfortunately, I am.”

“He's far too sensible a man to lose his temper that way.”

“Are you sure? What would you have done if you thought an older man was making advances to Celadon
or to me when we were in high school?” I heard a gurgling sputtering noise get stuck halfway up Grampa's throat.

“Any man foolish enough to pull such a thing would have found himself running down the road with the seat of his britches full of rock salt.”

“People in town think well of you, too, and wouldn't expect a man with your reputation to sink to violence. Why would the pastor be any different? He might have felt all the more responsible for ridding the community of someone he believed to be a moral blight.”

“When you put it that way, I guess I can't say for sure whether or not he would have been tempted to violence. All I know is, speaking as a deacon who has worked closely with Pastor Gifford for years, I would be shocked if he was responsible for any of it.”

“You were a deacon at the time, too, right?”

“That's how I happened to be near enough to him to step up and pry him off the pulpit. I was the deacon who led the opening part of the service that morning.”

“Do you happen to remember any large amounts of money showing up in the church coffers at right about that same time?”

“You know, there were several large donations made to the church collection plate starting a week or so later. It was a lot of money and there was considerable debate about the use of it. Some of the deacons thought we should use the money for the roof repair fund and others felt it would be best used on missions projects. There was talk about dividing it up or lumping it together. By
the time we'd worked it all out I almost wished no one had felt the urge to be so generous.”

“How much money did it add up to?”

“It stretched over a couple of months but I think all told it added up to around six thousand dollars.”

“Did you ever find out who donated it?”

“No one ever took credit for it and it was all in cash so there was no way to track it either.”

“And no hints of any kind? Did you ever wonder if it could have come from the theft of the festival money?”

“It never occurred to me that the stolen money could be the source. Everyone, myself included, seemed to think Spooner had run off with that money. We wouldn't have kept looking for it in Sugar Grove.”

“But thinking back now it seems like just about the right amount of money to account for what was stolen minus the checks they received.”

“Do you think someone stole it and then felt guilty and changed their mind about spending it on themselves?”

“I think it could have happened that way.”

“Do you suppose the robbery had nothing to do with Spooner after all?” Grampa asked.

“I have no idea, either about Spooner's death or about the missing money.”

“What a sad thing to think a man has been lying dead all these years and no one ever cared about what happened to him.” Grampa shook his head.

“At this point it seems like it doesn't matter all that much to anyone except Tansey. She took it really badly.”

“As much as I hate to say it, it kind of makes you wonder if Tansey reacted so badly to the news about Spooner's body being found because she was the one who hid it,” Grampa said.

“I've never thought of Tansey as the jealous type, but then, there haven't been any men in her life all these years besides Knowlton.” I felt a knot tying itself up in my stomach as I thought about how Knowlton was likely to react if his mother went to prison. Tansey had spent half of Knowlton's first grade year sitting with her legs wedged under the desk next to his so he wouldn't sneak out of the building and run home every day. “Maybe she didn't want to risk losing her temper that badly ever again.”