Talk of the Town (22 page)

“Alice?”

“I’m up here. Just a minute.” She recognized Maxwell’s voice. Apparently he was standing at the foot of the flight of steps to the third floor.

She tossed the incriminating wrapper from Wendell’s treat in her trash can and descended the steps. “Hello,” she said. “It’s almost five o’clock. You had a nice, long nap.”

“I feel much better.” He shook his head. “I must seem ridiculous, needing so much rest and napping like a two-year-old.”

“You were sick enough to require hospitalization,” Alice reminded him. “It’s not at all uncommon for patients to need significant amounts of rest after an illness like pneumonia.”

“Alice…”

“Yes?”

Quietly, he said, “I need to tell Jane and Louise tonight. Will you be there, for moral support?”

“Of course,” she said immediately. “Before dinner?”

“Yes. Then, tomorrow, I must tell a number of other people. I know having a whole string of individual discussions will be tiring for me, but that’s what I should do.”

“What if you make a list of all the people you believe you need to tell, and perhaps I can help you sort the names into two or three groups.”

“That sounds a lot more manageable,” he said with relief. “Thank you.” He turned and headed for his room. “I’m going to start on that list.”

An hour before dinner, Alice walked into the parlor. Louise had been playing piano, and she looked up as Alice entered. “Hello.”

“That was beautiful,” Alice told her. “I so enjoy hearing you play.”

“Thank you.” Louise stood, lifted the lid of the piano bench and neatly laid several pieces of sheet music inside.

“Uh… could you come into the living room, please? Maxwell would like to talk to you.”

Louise raised one eyebrow. “To me?”

“Well, to you and Jane.”

“Not you?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Alice, are you being deliberately cryptic? What is this all about?”

“Maxwell will tell you.” Alice vanished from the doorway.

Louise finished putting away all her music, then walked into the living room.

Alice was seated in the corner in the rocker that had belonged to their mother. She had a gold-covered pillow on her lap with her arms loosely hugging it. Jane sat on the burgundy sofa. Her gaze met Louise’s and, reading the question there, she shrugged.
I don’t know what this is about either
.

Maxwell was standing in front of the fireplace. As Louise seated herself beside Jane on the couch, he said, “Thank you for joining me. I realize you both have things to do, so I’ll make this brief.” He walked over and sat down in the overstuffed chair so that he could face them.

Holding Louise’s gaze for a moment, he said, “There’s something unpleasant I have to tell you about myself.” He hesitated. “I have a confession to make. I did something… well, I suppose you’d call it sneaky, at best.” He hesitated again.

“Please just tell us,” said Louise. “Dancing around it isn’t going to make it go away.”

“All right.” He took a deep breath. “I was responsible for the Bigfoot evidence.”

Both women were silent for a moment as they digested the statement.

“All right,” said Jane finally. “Do you mean you made those tracks?”

He nodded. “And planted the hair, which I got from my barbershop before I arrived here.”

Louise was beginning to feel stirrings of anger as the meaning of his words sank in. “I presume you have an excellent explanation for this,” she said in an icy tone.

Maxwell nodded cautiously. He clearly had caught the anger underlining her words. “I’m not sure it’s an excellent one,” he said, “but it’s the only one I have.” He twisted his fingers together nervously. “I was doing a project for one of my classes. A compare-and-contrast-communities sort of thing to gauge reactions to fantastic stories. I studied a control group in Philadelphia and in another small town called Nottingham, then introduced a hoax in a different neighborhood in Philadelphia. For the second small town, I chose Acorn Hill.”

“Did the Philadelphia hoax involve Bigfoot?” Louise’s voice was tight.

“No.” He shook his head, looking at the floor. “It involved a giant alligator in the sewers.”

“Well, lucky us,” said Jane.

Maxwell hung his head. “I never intended to hurt or embarrass anyone. To be truthful, I didn’t even consider the feelings of the people involved. Until I came here, I had never been a part of a community like this.”

Maxwell cleared his throat. “I know I don’t deserve your friendship. I apologize sincerely for upsetting you and anyone else who was affected by my behavior.”

Jane rose. “I accept your apology,” she said, very seriously, “and I appreciate your honesty. Your friendship is something I am going to have to think about for a while.” And she turned and left the room.

Louise understood Jane’s feelings. Jane had worried over him, made him special remedies and fed him well. She felt betrayed. Louise felt the same way herself, but she was going to do her best to let go of it. The young man had made a mistake, as everyone did in youth. Such mistakes simply were part of maturing. And it was clear that he had grown and changed for the better since his arrival in Acorn Hill.

“I,” she said, “am going to forgive you, Maxwell. As a mother, I understand that young people make mistakes as they learn about the world around them. You made an error, and I believe you have learned from it.”

“Thank you, Louise.” He bowed his head.

“You’re welcome.” As she began to leave the room, she stopped and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It took courage to confess to us,” she said. “And we were probably the easiest ones you’re going to have to deal with. Don’t expect everyone to let you off so lightly.”

Clothilda had gone to dinner with Ethel and several of Ethel’s friends. Apparently Jane had not invited Maxwell to dine with them that evening. Or perhaps she’d
un
invited him or he’d just assumed he was not welcome. In any case Louise saw that the table was set for three.

After saying grace, the sisters picked at their food in silence. Louise savored a bite of the succulent pecan-crusted mountain trout Jane had prepared. “This is excellent,” she said. “I wonder if you could serve this as a breakfast entrée.”

A wisp of a smile flitted across Jane’s face. “I just might try it sometime.” Then she sighed. “I just can’t believe he did that to us.”

There was no need to clarify who “he” was.

“I know,” Alice said. “It was an insensitive—”

“Callous, thoughtless and… and just plain
mean
thing to do,” Jane finished.

“This really struck a nerve with you,” Louise observed.

“And it didn’t with you?” Jane leaned forward. “I feel so, so, I don’t know… taken advantage of. Don’t you get it? He chose us because in his eyes Acorn Hill is a backward little burg filled with backward little people. That’s pretty insulting.”

“I agree completely,” Alice said.

“You do?” Jane looked shocked.

“I do. Initially, I believe that’s very much what he thought. But we surprised him. We weren’t backward. He’s met accomplished musicians and artists. He’s eaten four-star food at a top-rated inn. He’s talked with people who have traveled the world.
And
we all were warm and friendly and accepting. If he’d been doing a paper on hospitality, we’d have gotten the blue ribbon.”

“You’re right, Alice,” Louise said. “We did surprise him. And what’s more, we have changed him.” She lifted her chin and raised her eyes toward the ceiling, indicating the floor above. “That young man is a very different person from the one who arrived here. I have to confess I didn’t care much for that one. Not much at all. This one, however, I am growing to enjoy quite a bit.”

“That’s true.” Jane appeared to be giving their words some thought. “He is quite different from the young man who checked in weeks ago. Recently, I haven’t seen those little flashes of superiority that I don’t even think he knew he was displaying.”

“No, and he’s far more aware of and concerned about others than he was,” Alice added.

“He carried three boxes of things for Goodwill out to the car for me the other day.” Jane’s gaze was distant, examining the memory. “He told me they were too heavy for me. I don’t think he would have done that before he came here.”

“No,” said Louise dryly, “he’d have hired someone.”

Alice chuckled. “And the other day, when it stormed and I was racing around closing windows, he was a big help. He had the whole first floor finished before I even got half the guest rooms done.”

“Again,” said Louise, “not something he would have done a few weeks ago. He really is beginning to think of others, isn’t he?”

Jane looked down at her half-eaten plate of fish. “He certainly didn’t get much guidance from his father when he was a child. You wrought a miracle there, Alice, bringing those two together.” She took a bite, then said, “I suppose I’m going to have to forgive him.”

Louise chuckled. “You wouldn’t be our Jane if you didn’t, dear.”

After dinner, Alice brought a piece of paper into the kitchen, where Jane was putting dishes in the dishwasher and Louise was wiping the counters.

“Here,” said Alice. “Maxwell made this list of people he felt he needed to tell personally before he contacts Carlene. Rather than risk exhausting himself with dozens of meetings, I suggested he separate them into two or three groups and ask them to come here. I thought he could manage to make his speech a couple more times. I would like each of you to look over these groups. I helped him divide them. If there’s anyone you think might be less… difficult in another group, please tell me.”

Jane and Louise looked at each other. Louise thought
Florence
and she suspected Jane was thinking the same thing. Alice must have been, too, because she said, “I know that Florence is going to take this badly. She really embraced the notion of this creature frequenting Acorn Hill.”

Jane snorted. “Alice, you’re so tactful it slays me. Why don’t you just say Florence was cuckoo on the subject and be done with it?”

Louise tried not to laugh but a small chuckle escaped. “Definitely less tactful,” she informed Jane.

Chapter Nineteen

O
n Monday evening, right after supper, the doorbell rang. Opening the door, Alice found Vera and Fred on the doorstep. “Come on in,” she said. “Maxwell is in the living room.”

There were more people coming up the walk so she continued to hold open the door. Zach and Nancy Colwin, Jason Ransom, Charles Matthews and all four of their parents completed the first group. When they filed out a short while later, there were a lot of sober faces. But as he was leaving, Zach Colwin winked at Alice and said, “If that’s the worst thing the fellow ever does in his life, won’t he be lucky?”

The second group arrived not long afterward. It was composed of June Carter, Hope Collins, Florence and Ronald Simpson, Clarissa Cottrell and Rev. Thompson. Alice had decided not to remain in the room during each confession session, and she was particularly concerned about how Florence was going to take the news. She had hoped including Grace Chapel’s pastor in that group might defuse any huge explosions.

After a surprisingly short time, the door opened and the group came out. June and Hope looked… disenchanted, but Alice suspected they would forgive Maxwell once they had an opportunity to reflect on the situation. Ronald came next, shaking his head and raising his gaze heavenward, as if asking for patience. She could hear Florence’s voice, clearly agitated, and Kenneth’s deeper, calmer tones still in discussion. Maxwell said something once but a sharp tone from Florence apparently silenced him. Alice bit her lip. It didn’t sound good.

After what seemed like forever, Florence came stalking out of the room. Tonight Florence had worn a light cape over her clothing and it snapped around her rapidly moving figure like a raised sail on a windy day.

“Well,” she said as she reached Alice. “I never. The nerve of that young man. He should be tarred and feathered.”

“Oh, Florence,” Alice entreated, “don’t you remember doing anything foolish or ill-advised when you were young? All of us make mistakes. The important thing is that we learn from them. And I believe Maxwell has. He truly regrets this whole debacle.”

“He should,” said Florence grimly. Without another word, she stomped out the door.

Alice felt as if she’d been wrung out and hung up to dry. She couldn’t imagine how exhausted Maxwell must feel. Jane had brought drinks and cookies in for each group as they arrived, and Alice walked into the room and filled an extra glass with ice water. She walked across to where Kenneth was speaking with Maxwell.

Both men turned toward her as she approached. Kenneth’s expression was sober but his eyes were warm. “We were just having a brief prayer,” he told her. “I thought Maxwell could use a little support from the Almighty.”

“I suspect you’re right.” Alice searched the young man’s face, looking for signs of illness. His color had drained to a pasty white, but she imagined he could get through one more of these horrid meetings. “How are you feeling?” she asked him, just to confirm her impressions.

“All right.” He nodded. “This is going a little better than I expected.”

Alice raised her eyebrows. “Really? After seeing the way Florence left, I find that hard to believe.”

Kenneth smiled. “Florence’s pride took a hit. She has a difficult time when she appears foolish, as you know, and she certainly felt foolish tonight. She’ll come around.” He extended a hand and firmly clasped Maxwell’s. “What you are doing takes courage,” he told the younger man. “Never doubt that the Lord is with you right now. He’ll carry you if the going gets too tough.”

Alice saw the pastor out, and just a few minutes later, the final group arrived as Jane was setting out fresh drinks and cookies. It was composed of Ethel, Nia Komonos, Carlene Moss, Henry and Patsy Ley and Clothilda. They all wore barely disguised looks of curiosity.

“We were here early and we saw Florence storm out,” Patsy whispered. “What on earth is going on?”

Alice shook her head. “It’s not my story to tell. Come into the living room and Maxwell can explain.”

It was a relief to see the last group leave.

While Alice ushered them out, Jane gathered up glasses and several empty plates. The only ones who lingered inside were Ethel, talking to Alice in the hallway, and Carlene, who was hot on the trail of the story.

Maxwell looked tired enough to collapse, and Jane finally took pity on him. “Maxwell,” she said, “I know you and Carlene want to finish your conversation, but can’t it wait until tomorrow? You’ve had an exhausting day. You can call Carlene tomorrow.”

Carlene smiled, her dimples winking. “I’m sorry, Maxwell. I completely forgot you’d been ill. Call me tomorrow.”

“I’ll do better than that,” he said. “I’ll come to your office, and I’ll bring along a statement you can print in Wednesday’s paper if you like.”

“That would be fabulous.” Carlene scribbled a reminder to herself on her small notepad, and then stuffed both pencil and pad into her bag. “You did a good thing, coming clean,” she told him. “I know there are a few folks who are going to be miffed for a little while, but they’ll get over it. It took guts to tell everybody what you’ve been up to.”

Maxwell began to cough.

Alice appeared in the doorway, looking as stern as she possibly could. “Bed,” she said succinctly to him. “And don’t forget your antibiotic or that cough medicine. I’ve already filled the humidifier and turned it on for you.”

The young man looked grateful. “Thank you, Alice. I’ll be asleep two minutes after my head hits the pillow.”

Carlene stood to leave. “Goodnight, all. I’ll just let myself out.”

Jane and Alice both trailed her out to the hallway. Louise had come out of the parlor and was talking with Ethel, and they all said good-bye to Carlene.

Just as the door closed behind her, Wendell came sashaying down the steps.

“Good gracious sakes alive!” Ethel was staring at the cat.

“What’s wrong?” Louise asked.

“Apparently nothing,” their aunt said. “I swear that cat is almost as fat as he was before he took off. How did you pork him up so fast?”

Jane looked a little mystified as she studied the cat. “You’re right. He
is
fat. I’ve been giving him one extra pack of treats per day, but that shouldn’t have done it in just a week.”

Louise cleared her throat. “I, ah, also have been giving him treats that I kept in my room. I thought it might help him regain his strength faster.”

“He regained something, that’s for sure,” Ethel said.

Alice started to laugh. “You’re not going to believe this, but I’ve been giving him treats from a stash in my room too. I made up some extra packets, Jane, from the kitchen.”

“I thought I was getting absentminded,” Jane said, beginning to chuckle. “I went in there the other day and there was a lot less food than I thought there should be.”

Louise and Ethel joined the laughter as the four women watched Wendell waddle the rest of the way down the steps. As he rounded the newel post and walked back up the hallway toward the kitchen, his belly swayed from side to side. They all laughed harder.

“Don’t think you’re getting a bedtime snack,” Jane called after him.

On Tuesday morning, Jane made oatmeal-apple pancakes paired with a salad of oranges, grapefruit and kiwi.

A young couple on their honeymoon had arrived the previous afternoon. They were on their way to Fort Rucker, an army post in Alabama, where the young man was to be stationed.

“Ms. Howard?” The young bride, Emmaline Morning, raised her hand as if she was still in school, making Jane chuckle inwardly.

“Yes? May I get either of you another helping of anything? Perhaps some more tea?”

“Oh no,” the young woman said, smiling. “I’m beginning to feel like an overstuffed ball. Teddy can just roll me down the driveway to the car.”

“But then who’s going to roll
me
?” her husband asked plaintively. “Those pancakes were very good.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them,” Jane said. “I was looking for a recipe for oatmeal cookies last week when I came across the pancake recipe, so you’re the first people who have tasted it.”

“Two thumbs up,” Mr. Morning told her. “You definitely should add those to the menu.”

“Would it be possible,” his wife said hesitantly, “for me to get that recipe from you? I’ve just begun collecting recipes and I would love to make those for Teddy.”

“Certainly,” Jane said. “I will copy it down for you as soon as we clean up the kitchen. I’ll just slip it under your door later if you are not here.”

“We probably won’t be,” the young husband said. “We’re meeting a tour guide in Potterston who is taking us to Lancaster County to learn more about the Amish.”

“That should be interesting,” Jane said. “One caution—most Amish consider photographs of themselves to be prideful, if that’s a word, and don’t allow you to take pictures of them.”

“Thank you for letting us know,” said Teddy Morning. He rose and came around the table to pull out his wife’s chair in a courtly gesture that Jane found endearing. “We’ll be heading out soon.”

“Enjoy your day,” Jane called after them.

Alice breezed through the swinging door just after the couple left. She wore a comfortable pair of jeans with a red-and-white striped blouse. “Louise is taking out the trash. I asked her to cut a few fresh daffodils for the reception desk,” she said as she began to clear the table.

“Oh, good,” Jane responded. “The ones we have there now are beginning to wilt.”

Maxwell was seated at the far end of the table so it was a relatively easy matter for Jane to make small talk with Clothilda and avoid speaking to him. Her anger at his deception had faded somewhat, but she still was not sure that she wanted to be friendly with him again.

As she turned and backed through the swinging door, she saw that the young man had followed her, carrying a precariously wobbling stack of dishes he had gathered.

“Oh, careful,” she warned. “Let me get those.” She quickly put down her load and took his.

He handed them over with relief and a small smile. “I thought I would help you clear the table. I never realized waitresses needed to be so adept.”

“It’s a skill,” Jane agreed.

There was a small awkward silence.

Then Maxwell said, “Well, I suppose I’ll go up to my room now and work on my paper.”

“Do you plan to include our reactions to the news that you’d been tricking us for days?” Jane asked, looking him squarely in the eye.

He did not squirm, as she expected him to. “Yes,” he said very seriously. “I don’t have any control data with which to compare that aspect, but I think it is an important part of the whole experience. I have learned a great deal from it, at any rate.” He sighed. “And I really am so sorry, Jane. I wish I could go back and fix the clock so that I’d never even considered the idea.”

“I wish you could too,” Jane said. Then, honesty compelled her to add, “But since you can’t, I think what you did last evening is the next best thing.”

Alice came into the kitchen at that moment with a load of dishes she had cleared from the dining room. She glanced curiously from one to the other, and then said to Maxwell, “Oh, good, you’re still here. Do you remember when I showed you our mother’s Depression glass and we talked about flea markets?”