“I suppose he’s rented an apartment somewhere close by so he can see his kids.”
“I think he’s staying with his sister and brother-in-law for the time being. Francesca and Gerald have plenty of room because their kids are grown.”
I couldn’t help it—the words tumbled out of my mouth. “Just be careful, Gillian. Getting involved with a guy who has lots of responsibilities and no job might not be the best situation for you.”
“Thanks a lot, Carrie! You were fun before you turned into a know-it-all authority on relationships. As if you have better taste in men—picking a boyfriend who’s never around.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I arranged to meet Angela for lunch at twelve fifteen. I told her I’d pick her up at the library since I planned to drop off Smoky Joe before we went to our favorite Indian restaurant. Trish would keep an eye on him until I returned.
“Uh-huh,” she said in a tone I recognized. She knew I wanted to discuss something important but didn’t want to get into it on the phone.
She talked about recent wedding plans as I drove. I nodded or shook my head to let her know I was listening. The smiling owner seated us, and we went up to the buffet. After we’d filled our plates and sat down to eat, I asked Angela, “Do you think I’m a know-it-all?”
I didn’t like how long it took her to answer. “I wouldn’t label you a know-it-all, but you sure stick to your guns once you’ve made up your mind.”
I can live with that, I decided. I cut into my chicken tandoori and looked up. “Do you think I deliberately chose to get involved with Dylan because he’s away so much and we don’t get to see each other all the time like you and Steve do?”
Angela snickered. “Are you kidding? Dylan Avery’s a catch for anyone. Besides, he’s moving home soon, isn’t he?”
“In a few weeks,” I said.
Angela shot me a searching glance. “Hey, girl, what’s this all about?”
“Gillian Richards. This morning she called to tell me how happy she is with her new love—Dorothy’s baby brother, Roger. He’s good-looking, has no job, and his wife just threw him out of the house.”
Angela laughed. “She sure knows how to pick ’em. And you told her so, which is why she called you a know-it-all.”
“Kind of,” I admitted. “Then she said I’m no authority on men since I chose someone who’s hardly ever here.”
“But who will soon be around all the time.”
“I guess so, since Dylan signed the papers that make him a partner in the company, and the new office is being painted next week.”
“See!” Angela was triumphant. “She’s dead wrong. Your boyfriend will be around. You shouldn’t let her rattle you.”
“You’re right. I feel bad because she got angry when I warned her for the second time that Roger Camden is bad news.”
“Gillian’s an idiot. You were trying to look out for her, and she insulted you for your trouble.”
“I suppose.” I sighed. “I’m disappointed in myself for thinking she could have been a good friend. Instead, she takes up with good-looking creeps and couldn’t care less if Haven House is used for high-stakes card games and parties after hours.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over this,” Angela said. “It takes awhile to get to know someone. Hey, I’m still getting to know some of Steve’s sides, and I’m not crazy about them all.”
“You guys are great together. The important thing is you love each other and care enough to make your relationship work,” I said.
Angela reached out to cover my hand with hers. “I know, and I appreciate hearing you say it.”
“And I appreciate your getting my head straight right now.”
“That’s what best friends are for,” Angela said.
* * *
As soon as we entered the library, I sensed agitation in the air. Something had happened. Trish explained that Jimmy Belco and another young man from the shelter had gotten into an argument. Sally had asked them to leave, but they ignored her and started punching each other. Max and Pete came on the scene to break up the fight. Pete ended up getting punched in the eye just as Danny Brower arrived—Sally had called him—and took Jimmy and his pal to the station.
“Wow!” I said. “I thought Jimmy was barred from the library.”
Trish shrugged. “No one’s been stopping him lately, so he comes on in. They can’t finish that Haven House fast enough.”
“They’ll have people there who can handle all sorts of situations,” I said. A major reason why I hope it doesn’t get closed down.
After I checked on the various programs in progress, I stopped by the reference desk to ask Norman Tobin how he was adjusting to working in a new library. He greeted me with a wide grin.
“I’m doing just fine, Carrie. Thank you for asking. Everyone’s been nice and friendly. The patrons I’ve been in contact with have been very appreciative of my help.”
I bet! They’re glad to see a smile instead of a scowl.
“Sounds like you have everything under control. Text me if there’s anything you’d care to discuss.”
“That’s very kind of you, Carrie. Let me say, it makes a difference when an old hand like you takes the time to make a new staff member feel welcome.”
I walked away, smiling for the first time that day. Old hand. Interesting to be called that when it was only this past October that I had become head of P and E. Just three months ago, but it seemed more like three years.
“Anything new to report?” Evelyn asked as she fell into step beside me.
“Not a thing. Haven House was bought by the Lennox Corporation. There are no names listed at all. One signature, but I can’t for the life of me make it out.”
“Of course you can’t! That Ernie Pfeiffer’s no fool. And neither is Gerald. Besides, a corporation is regarded as an individual.”
“So I’ve learned. And I was warned off snooping. Yesterday someone broke into the cottage and left me a threatening note. John made me promise to stop questioning people—about Dorothy’s murder and the illegal plans concerning Haven House.”
“Of course, Carrie. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Though he doesn’t see a problem with my attending Haven House meetings—as long as I don’t stir things up.”
Evelyn looked sad as she faded from view. I wished I could offer her more.
I was answering a slew of email when my library phone rang.
“Hello, Carrie Singleton.”
“Carrie, it’s Uncle Bosco.”
“Hi, Uncle Bosco. Is everything all right?”
“No, everything is not all right!”
My heart began to thump. “Is Aunt Harriet—? Is she …?”
“No, she’s fine. Why?—oh, sorry, we’re both okay. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m calling about that Haven House project you got yourself involved in.”
“What about it?”
“Al Tripp is fuming about it. So are members of the town council. Everyone seems to know Pfeiffer’s behind it and is planning to use it as a front for gambling and so-called ‘social events.’”
“I know. I’ve heard the rumors.”
“There’s nothing Al can do about it—yet. Pfeiffer’s wily. There’s no paper trail, but he’ll trip up eventually. He even got the state to give him a grant. I spoke to the other members of the library board, and we’ve agreed: we want nothing to do with Haven House.”
“Oh.”
“That means we don’t want them meeting in the library.”
“A meeting’s been scheduled for Thursday.”
“Sorry, Carrie. You have to cancel it.”
My hand was shaking as I put down the phone. I’d never heard Uncle Bosco so disturbed over a library issue. I couldn’t blame him either. But I wanted Haven House to become a reality, and not just because it would remove the homeless and their disruptions from the library. The promise of the center had already brought a counselor to the shelter. Once Haven House w
as up and running, more counselors would be employed to help the homeless find homes and jobs. This was a project very much needed by our community, but already its future was unraveling.
I called Sally. She agreed—I had to let the group know ASAP that they could no longer meet in the library. I punched in Reese Lavell’s number, hoping she wasn’t home and I could leave the message on her phone. She picked up on the third ring.
“Hello, Carrie.” She sounded breathless. “I just walked through the door.”
Lucky me.
“Everything all set with our meeting Thursday night?”
I drew a deep breath. “No, actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m afraid it’s been decided that the group may no longer meet in the library.”
“Really? Why?”
“There’s been talk that the Haven House organizers plan to use the house for other purposes during evening hours.”
“That’s ridiculous! I’ve heard those lies. We all have. There’s no truth to them at all.”
“I’m sorry, Reese. I’m only following orders.”
“And I’m sorry the library has taken to believing rumors and gossip. Don’t worry. We’ll find someplace else to meet.”
“Reese!” I shouted before she disconnected.
“What is it?”
“I still believe in Haven House. Please let me know where your next meeting is scheduled. I’d like to attend.”
“Okay,” she said abruptly and hung up.
* * *
Reese called back an hour later to say that the Bennings had graciously offered their home for the meeting on Thursday night. She gave me the time and address, sounding considerably calmer.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
“I’m glad you aren’t leaving us,” Reese said. “Perhaps you can convince your board that we’re only out to do good.”
“I’ll try,” I said, wondering if she truly believed what she was saying or was part of the group making money off the project.
Thursday evening, I put the Bennings’ address in my GPS and started out for the meeting. Francesca and Gerald lived on the other side of town, in a development of homes that cost in the low seven figures. I’d always wanted to see the interior of one of those homes, and at last I was getting my chance.
Francesca came to the door wearing a beige cashmere sweater set and brown leather trousers. Her diamond pendant sparkled like a miniature copy of the chandelier shining above me in the three-story hall.
“Carrie! So nice you could make it!” No hug. No kiss.
I followed her to the den at the back of the house, gawking at the elegant décor of the living and dining rooms on either side of the hall. Concentrate! You’re here to find out what you can about Haven House.
“Pour yourself a cup of coffee or tea and join us,” Francesca said. “I’ll take your jacket.”
More gawking as I entered the kitchen, which was four times the size of mine. The shiny appliances all had what appeared to be miniature dashboards that managed their various tasks. I set down my pocketbook and filled a mug of coffee from the old-fashioned coffee maker.
I was trying to decide which dessert to choose—a brownie or a miniature fruit tart and had opted for both—when a male voice said, “Carrie Singleton. Fancy meeting you here.”
I turned swiftly, startled to see Harvey Kirk.
“Harvey! I didn’t realize you were interested in Haven House.”
“Why not? It’s a great project, especially where our library’s concerned. It gets those shelter people out of our hair. Not very wise of the board to oppose it, don’t you think?”
I shrugged. Harvey was the last person with whom I’d share my thoughts. “I’m here as a private citizen, same as you.”
Gerald came into the kitchen and headed for the coffee maker to refill his mug. He greeted me with a smile. “Hello, Carrie. I’m so glad you decided to come.”
“Of course. I wanted to. I’m sorry the library can no longer offer the group a place to meet.”
“No problem there. The construction work is going faster than expected. Haven House will be ready to open in a month or so.” He glanced at Harvey, then back at me. “I hope we can count on you both to convince the library board to reconsider their attitude. The library benefits from our noble project, and we in turn would benefit from whatever help and materials you can offer.”
I was saved from responding when Francesca bustled in. “Jerry, dear, everyone’s waiting for you.”
“Coming, dear.”
“Good.” She lowered her voice. “The natives are getting restless.”
Are they asking uncomfortable questions? I wondered.
The den had a pitched ceiling, exposed beams, and a fireplace set in a wall of stone. About fourteen people sat chatting with one another in a large circle within easy reach of a marble-topped coffee table covered with bowls of snacks. I spotted Reese, who grinned at me, and headed for the empty Eames-style chair next to her. Too late, I realized I’d also be sitting next to the loveseat that Gillian and Roger occupied. Roger greeted me with a big smile. Gillian turned away and actually stuck her nose in the air. I felt my ears grow warm. Although I accepted that Gillian and I would never be friends as I’d once thought, I didn’t want her to view me as her enemy.
Francesca and Harvey sat down. Gerald followed them into the room and stood against the wall. Two men joined him. One of them was Theo, the man with the beard. They conversed in low tones. Gerald nodded and took out his cell phone. He disappeared inside the kitchen to speak in privacy. Minutes later, he appeared to be stressed when he called the meeting to order.
“Sorry about the delay,” he said, “but we had a minor problem at the work site. I just spoke to our contractor and resolved the issue.”
“That’s the second or third problem this week,” a red-faced man I didn’t recognize commented. “Want to tell us about it?”
“It something to do with the heating system, Doug. Nothing to worry about.”
The other man who had been whispering with Gerald said, “Problems always arise. More so when you keep on top of things.”
Gerald smiled at him. “Thanks, Ben. Why don’t we get started? I’m glad to see you all could make it tonight. Ben will tell you about the progress we’ve made building-wise.” He gestured to Theo. “Then Theo will give the treasurer’s report.”
I looked around at the various guests as I listened to Ben and Theo speak. Most of them had been at the meeting in the library. I was glad to see that neither Fred nor Ernie Pfeiffer was present.
Ben gave a detailed report on what had and had not been done in Haven House. The new interior walls were up; there was a problem with the flooring in one of the rooms, but things were moving along well. Theo gave the financial report. When it came to the fundraiser, he nodded to Martha, the gray-haired woman who had answered questions at the last meeting.
“I’m happy to announce that, after expenses, we cleared eighteen thousand dollars,” she said.
Everyone clapped. Doug, who had raised a question earlier, asked Theo if he thought the project could get more aid from the state.
“I think we’d better hold off on that,” Theo answered. “My friend said it will serve us better if we wait until Haven House is functioning.”
So Theo was the one with connections to the department that provided funds to a project like Haven House.
A minute later, Reese was standing and being applauded for having helped chair the successful dinner dance. From the corner of my eye, I watched Gillian and Roger elbow each other and exchange knowing glances. You idiot! I thought, feeling twenty years older than Gillian instead of the actual three years separating us.
After the committee heads’ reports, Gerald threw open the discussion to new business. He asked for location suggestions for future fundraisers. Several ideas were offered, among them a winery and a nearby museum. Martha and Reese offered to look into them.
“Why do we need to raise more money?
” Doug asked. “It seems to me that we already have enough to cover construction costs. Local residents have offered furniture and older TVs and computers. We’re getting books and magazines from the library.” He turned to me. “Unless the library has changed its mind about giving us what they’d normally discard or sell in a book sale.”
I felt my ears grow warm with embarrassment, and was relieved to see that most of the others were staring at Doug and not at me. Gerald, Ben, and Theo glowered at him.
“Yes, Doug,” Gerald said, “we are fortunate to receive many basics from the community, but we expect Haven House will be an ongoing enterprise. We’ll always have expenses and upkeep. And don’t forget the personnel we’ll be hiring.” He gave a little laugh. “Some of the population we’re expecting will need looking after. And we’re hoping to have a drug counselor and a social worker to help with housing and job hunting. We may have to pay for these services.”
Almost everyone present stood to applaud Gerald. When it died down, a gray-haired woman who appeared to be in her seventies said, “It sounds wonderful and I’m doing my part to help it become a reality, but what about the rumors we’ve been hearing—that Haven House will be turned into a bordello at night? How do we know they’re not true?”
“And what makes you think they are true?” Gerald asked her.
She shrugged her shoulders. “People say …”
“Shirley, you can check for yourself that none of the upstairs rooms are done up in red velvet and mirrors.”
The room burst into laughter as Gerald had meant it to. His beaming smile indicated that he knew it too. “And that’s it for tonight. We will be holding another meeting next week, the location to be decided. We’ll notify you all via email, text, and phone calls.”
The meeting ended. People stood and got ready to leave. I turned to Reese to wish her good night.
“Thanks so much for coming, Carrie. I hope you can convince your uncle and other members of the library board to change their mind about us. As you can see, our goals are pure and altruistic.”
Buried in the Stacks Page 20
