Just Killing Time (18 page)

“I've been learning about his vision this week. It sounds like he was taking on a much more public role. That wasn't typical of the G.T. I grew up with,” I said.

“Did you know about the historical landmarking he was proposing?”

“I found some paperwork, but I have no idea where it all stood. There's a meeting this Thursday, so I need to catch up soon. Caroline was going to try and get it moved.”

“Good luck with that. Kim Gray sees her opportunity. That sounds cold, but then that's Kim. Here's my understanding of what's going on. Thom got a bee in his bonnet when the old camp back on Route 143 was turned into a dorm for Harris. Thom worried about Harris taking over Orchard and the town losing its soul. His words.”

“That doesn't surprise me, that part about wanting to keep Orchard true to itself.”

“He thought making it difficult to build would be a step. Plus, his personal goal was to save the old Town Hall. With big money being offered, Thom decided to take another approach and make some of the buildings in town landmarks. But Kim outmaneuvered him and decided that landmarking a building meant that it couldn't be modified. At all.”

“Isn't that typical for landmarking?”

“No. Every town, county, state, has its own set of rules. Landmarking in Orchard used to mean a plaque, and the need for a series of town meetings before a building could be torn down.”

“Modifications were all right?”

“They required a permit, but yes. Especially if it involved making the building safer or more accessible.

“Problem was that Kim's new rules got in the way of some folks. Ada and Mac Clark had to hold off expanding the Corner Market out the back, and they weren't happy. Beckett Green just stopped working on his building and has said he would sell it to the developer who was interested in the old Town Hall if the rules didn't change. This developer, Henry Smith, was going to pull it down and build a community center. Of course, it was his definition of a community center, complete with a chain coffee shop and pool hall.”

“Sounds lovely,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Who is this Henry Smith character?”

“No one knows. Kim's the only person who's met him. I've tried doing some research, but haven't found anything. Thom thinks . . . thought . . . the name is just a front, but he couldn't prove it. So he decided to really focus on saving the Town Hall.

“The Winter family had leased the building over to the town for fifty years at a dollar a year. The lease is up at the end of this year. Kim thinks the town can take it over, since no one can find the deed. On paper, Grover Winter left it to your grandfather. But paper doesn't count for much these days and without the deed it's worth even less. Thursday's meeting is the first step in the takeover.”

“Did all of this upset anyone so much that they might have harmed G.T.?” I asked.

“He wasn't the most popular guy these days. I just can't imagine who was pushed that far.”

I
was mulling over what Ben had said. It's a leap from ruffling feathers to murder, but passions run high when money is involved. I thought about Ada and Mac Clark. Were they really the locavore hipsters they seemed or were they less than scrupulous businesspeople like Mac's uncle? What about Beckett Green? Had he sunk his fortune into the bookstore or was this a hobby for him? Who was Henry Smith? Who else in town had money riding on change? Did Caroline know about all of this or had G.T. been waiting until she got home to tell her?

On my way out, I went back to the counter and ordered two cups of coffee.

“Two more cups?” Ben asked. He sounded impressed. I noticed he ordered a decaf.

“Caroline's coming by this morning so we can go over the books. I've tried to make some coffee in the coffeemaker, but it isn't good. That's an understatement. I've been thinking of
using it to remove varnish on some of the clocks. It may be the coffeepot or the coffee. I'm doing what I always do. And making coffee is one of my true talents.”

Ben laughed and I did too. It was nice to share a laugh with someone. I'd forgotten.

“Bad coffee and terrible showers are the two things I'll never get used to, and that apartment has both in spades,” I said.

Moira handed me a tray with three cups of coffee and a bag of baked goods.

“Caroline's a coffee drinker. She'll want a second cup. And if I know the both of you, you won't break for lunch, so there are a couple of sandwiches in there.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Your money's no good here. We can argue about it later. You, Ben Clover, your money's welcome.”

“You cut me to the quick, Moira, you really do,” Ben said as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, you know I'm just playing with you,” Moira said. “Thanks again for taking care of me the other night. Ruth, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, Ben's got the best one in town. Very broad and manly. Ben, I'll see you this afternoon, right?”

“Right, see you then.”

Ben held the door for me and we walked out into the street. Orchard was starting to wake up, for Orchard. Compared to Boston, it was still in a slumber for a Monday. We saw Aggie Kurt and her truck making deliveries to the Corner Market across the street. Ben waved to a half-dozen people in cars, none of whom I knew. He wasn't in any rush to get back to his shop, and I didn't walk any faster.

“So a new coffeemaker may require a trip to Marytown, but that can be done. What's this about the shower?”

“It isn't a real shower. It is a contraption to make a claw-foot tub into a shower. It's okay, but it's short. And I'm tall. And my hair is thick and curly, as you can see.”

“And auburn. And lovely.”

I chose to ignore him, but I felt the blush start again.

“Under the best of circumstances it's hard to get it rinsed out,” I said. “But these are not the best of circumstances. Far from it. Very far from it.” I felt the pressure of tears behind my eyes. I didn't have a free hand to wipe the tear that was brimming and so I wouldn't be able to stop them if they fell. I blinked them back and cleared my throat.

Ben had the good grace to look forward.

“You know, I could help with that. Come by the shop. I'll wash your hair for you.”

I drew a sharp breath. Getting my hair washed by a handsome barber was an offer I might not be able to refuse. Or might not want to.

“I'm great at hair washing. Brilliant, in fact. Ask Moira. She comes by once a week for a wash and a flat iron.”

“Maybe I'll take you up on that,” I said, a little disappointed that I wasn't the only girl whose hair he offered to wash. “But no flat iron. Keep that thing away from me!”

“She'll be by around four thirty, after the shop closes.”

“I'd hate to be a third wheel.”

Ben laughed. “Me and Moira? Not likely. We'd probably kill each other. Just good friends. Anyway, come by before or after. Anytime. You have a good day, Ruth Clagan. Give Caroline my best. And you take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Ben. Maybe I'll see you later,” I said, continuing on next door to the Cog & Sprocket, a stupid smile on my face.

I
called Caroline's name out when I came into the shop. I'd seen her car parked out in front. I put the coffee down on the countertop and called her name again.

“In here,” she said. I walked through the gap in the counter and into the workroom. No Caroline. Then I noticed that the tower of clocks was a bit higher, and there was a path cleared. I walked to the right, through the path, and was pleased to see a clock-free area.

Caroline had set up a card table and had moved in two chairs. I didn't recognize them from the attic, but they did look familiar. She had a laptop plugged in and was setting up a printer.

“What's all this?” I asked. “Where did the clocks go?”

“Pat took a few of the crates out to the cottage. Here's a list. They're yours, of course. Apparently he's been thinking
about ways to create more space and that seemed like the best plan, especially with you staying upstairs. I hope it's all right.”

I looked down at the list of clocks, with the dates they were moved. Very thorough and very official-looking.

“Of course, that makes sense.”

“You're always welcome to come out to the cottage to work in the barn. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you,” I said. I actually hadn't known that. Our relationship felt like an arranged marriage. We were both dancing about, trying to get to know each other, even after our chat the day before. “Where did you get the card table?”

“I brought it from home. I thought we could work in here. Upstairs is your space. And I can't work in the workroom—too many memories right now. So I thought we could settle in here for the day. Is that all right with you?”

“It's fine with me,” I said, and I meant it. “Were these chairs upstairs?”

Caroline nodded. “Thom was going to re-cover them.”

“They look heavy. How did you get them downstairs?”

“Pat,” we both said at the same time.

“What would I do without Pat?” Caroline asked. Her voice sounded shaky and she turned away from me. “How about if we open up these front shutters?”

I looked at the front window. Sure enough, the shutters had been pulled across the front. I went over and unfastened them. They opened easily enough, but the dust on the windowsill told me they hadn't been opened for a good long while.

I looked around and sighed. For such a tiny shop, there were a lot of pockets of space. Years ago someone had
decided the shop itself should be small, so they'd put up a half wall that made the downstairs more of a U shape. Every few years my grandmother brought up the idea of taking the wall down, but my grandfather had always refused. He called the front area useful space for clock making. He was right. The natural light made the room look shabbier and more wonderful. I heard a noise coming from the back of the shop.

“Is someone else here?” I asked.

“Pat's here. Apparently Thom wanted to surprise me, and they were putting in a bathroom on this level. Of course, it was as much for him as it was for me. He was starting to have trouble going upstairs several times a day.”

“Was there something wrong?”

“Nothing more than a lifetime of work catching up to him. His knees were bothering him more and more. Arthritis. Anyway, Pat's going to be working on the bathroom today, and a couple of other odd jobs. I hope that's all right.”

“Of course,” I said. I walked back around to the shop and I grabbed the tray of coffees from the counter.

“Oh, thank you. This looks wonderful.”

“Thank Moira. She's taking good care of us. And she and Ben both send their best.”

“I'll take a walk later and say hello to them both. Do you know what's in the bag?”

“Sandwiches, she said. But that's a big bag for two sandwiches.”

“But not for two sandwiches, three muffins, cookies, and a couple of Danishes,” Caroline said, rummaging through the bag. She put it on the table and ripped it open, creating
a makeshift tray. “These sandwiches should go in the fridge.”

“I'll take them up. I need to get my computer anyway.”

When I went up, Bezel came out to say hello. She leaned against my legs and purred. I petted her, rubbed behind her ears, and gave her a kiss on top of her head. She purred up until the kiss, which earned me flattened ears and a look of utter contempt before she stalked off.

I grabbed my computer, my cell phone, and a tangle of power cords. Upstairs at the Cog & Sprocket was basically a dead zone, but both my phone and laptop kept trying to get signals and that wore them down quickly. When I headed for the door, Bezel made a move to follow me.

“Sorry, Bezz,” I said. “We talked about this. Caroline's here. I need to lock you in.” I leaned over and locked the cat door that usually allowed her free rein.

Bezel stopped and stared at me for a moment and then she seemed to shrug before she walked back to the bed. One final yowl let me know that I was on her bad side.

“Bezel wanted to come visit, but I told her to stay upstairs,” I said as I turned the corner into the front part of the shop. Pat sat in my chair, drinking the third cup of coffee. He made a move to get up, but I waved him off, putting the computer on the table and then plugging in my phone. I looked down at the wireless connections available, frustrated because none were available here in the building.

“I don't suppose either of you know what Ben's wireless password is, do you?” I asked.

“B-e-n-C-l-o-v-e-r. Capitals on the names. Zero for the
o
,” Pat said without hesitation.

I typed it in. “Fabulous! That worked. Pat, you've been holding out on me,” I said.

“Not really. Ben gave it to Moira. I figured he wouldn't mind giving it to you, even indirectly, so I asked Moira for it last night.”

“Why didn't I think of that?” I said. “This will make life easier.” I checked my business account and immersed myself in the e-mails I'd missed over the past few days. Lots of friends had written wondering where I was. I deleted an e-mail from my ex without even reading it. Boy, did that feel good. I noticed a couple from the museum, but then I heard my name. Pat must have said it a few times before I looked up at his amused half smile.

“Sorry, Pat, what were you saying?” I said.

“I said I was going to take Caroline's car in for servicing. I'll call in and let you know how it's going, but just in case, can you drive her home this afternoon?”

“Pat, this can wait for a few more days, honestly. I thought it had been fixed, but I guess not. I've been fine for this long,” Caroline protested from the table, where she had been updating the paper log books and nibbling on a Danish.

“Caroline, slipping brakes aren't to be trifled with. If I'd known how bad it was, I never would have let you drive up to Vermont, sick son or no. I'll give you a call and an estimate.”

“Call me with the estimate before they do the work.”

“Fred owes me a favor. You'll be able to afford it, I promise.”

“Pat,” she warned, standing.

“Caroline. Let folks do for you right now.”

“Thank you, Pat. I don't know what I would do without you, honestly I don't.” She sat back down.

“Well, you won't have to worry about that, for a bit at least.” Pat Reed was more than a fix-it man. He was part of the Cog & Sprocket. I wondered if he worked anywhere else these days, and guessed not. Had G.T. been paying him enough? Another life in turmoil, and more for me to think about.

Pat stood up, drained his cup of coffee, and grabbed a cookie. “And you, Ruthie, are you hanging in there?”

“I am, thank you, Pat.”

“I'll leave you both to it then.”

“Don't let the door hit you.” I sat down in the chair Pat had abandoned and plugged in my computer.

“I never realized how dependent on the Internet I was before I came back here,” I said. “It's probably not healthy, but I use it for work and for connecting with folks. Whoa, Caroline, are you all right? What's the matter?”

The older woman looked at me and wiped her eyes. “This is so silly, but that phrase? ‘Don't let the door hit you'? Your grandfather used it all the time. You reminded me of him just then. Actually, you remind me of him a lot. I noticed how you've been organizing the shop, taking care of the clocks. You love them as much as he does. Did.”

“That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me,” I said, concentrating on keeping my own tears in check. “I understand clocks. I treasure the workmanship. And I really love learning about the history of each clock. Not just how it was made or by whom, but how it was used, who repaired it over the years, and who owned it.”

“Your grandfather always said that the most ordinary of clocks was extraordinary once you got to know it. I often thought that people disappointed him, but clocks never did.”

“I used to think he loved clocks more than anyone else in the world, except for . . .”

“Your grandmother, right?”

“Right,” I said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“And you too. You know that, I hope. He called you his girls. It broke his heart that he lost you both. Getting back in touch with you meant the world to him.”

“I just wish I hadn't waited so long, and that we'd had a chance to talk.”

“Oh, Ruth, I lived with a long list of wishes and regrets that kept me from being happy for so, so long. Too long. Your grandfather helped me realize that. He rescued me. I know that sounds old-fashioned, but so be it.”

“You must have made him very happy,” I said. And it wasn't a question. As much as my grandfather's presence was in the shop, Caroline was here too, now that I knew where to look. A shorter stool at the back workbench. The selection of teas upstairs. Post-it notes with reminders, likely from her, on the wall calendar.

“Happy? I don't know. I think I made him less lonely, and that was good. And he enjoyed being part of my son, Levi's, life. He was a wonderful role model for him.”

“He was good at stepping in for missing parents.”

We both concentrated on our coffee. I was a little uncomfortable with how much I'd shared, and maybe Caroline was too. I was a hard person to get to know. I'd been told that several times, most recently by my boss at the museum. And I was, but it was less of a character flaw and more of a layer of protection, sort of like a turtle's shell. In Caroline I recognized a fellow turtle. The half-answered questions. Vague
pronouns. Maybe someday she'd tell me her secrets, but I wouldn't push. I had some of my own.

“So Pat's putting in a bathroom? I didn't know he was a plumber too,” I said.

“While I was away, they brought a plumber in, hoping to surprise me. Pat's doing all of the finish work, and is moving right along. He did the same thing out at the house, oversaw a bathroom project. He's good at it, so it is a good solution for both of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the work at the house needed to be done on a budget, but done well. Pat had the time and needed the work. And we could live with some flexibility in the schedule.”

“Caroline, I appreciate your going over the business records with me. And your understanding about the will and the shop. But we need to talk about this a little, if you don't mind. You're showing me the books, but tell me about the business. All these clocks? I hate to even ask how you could afford them all.”

“We took a mortgage out on the cottage,” Caroline said.

“What? You mortgaged your home?”

“We thought if we turned the clocks around, we could pay it back. But, of course, the clocks go with the store. Which is as it should be. You're the only one who can get them ready for sale.”

“But you need the money in order to pay back the mortgage,” I said, stunned.

“Ruth, we don't need to talk about this now.”

“Of course we do. Are you going to lose the house?”

“No. I can get through the next couple of months. And then, who knows, perhaps I'll move up to be closer to Levi.”

“I want you to do what you want to do. But G.T. wouldn't want you to be forced to make a decision because of his business deal. We'll figure this out.”

Caroline smiled and nodded. It was a taciturn agreement, the “we.” But I meant it. Caroline being homeless was not part of my grand plan. Not that I had a grand plan, though doing what G.T. would have wanted had become my focus.

“I called Jeff Paisley on my way over,” Caroline said. “Still no idea when they are going to release Thom's body. I know he didn't want one, but I think we should schedule a memorial service soon. I want to make a few more calls first and let people know.”

“If they haven't heard already,” I said. “It's been in the news.”

“I know. But a phone call is still a nice gesture.”