Polly said, "What kind of equipment would they be able to easily haul?"
"Oh, it could be anything," Henry said. “Everyone has tools and small equipment they store in their barns."
"I don't," she laughed.
"Not yet, but after you've been here for a few more years, that stuff will start building up."
After lunch Henry followed Polly back to Sycamore House. As she approached, she saw that there were several people working in the corner lot. She recognized Nancy Burroughs and Deb Waters, who waved as she drove in. She pulled into the driveway and instead of turning into the parking lot, stopped to say hello.
Henry drove on in and parked, but Polly jumped out of her truck and headed toward Deb, who was working with two men putting stakes in the ground.
"Hello there," Polly called, as she walked across the lawn.
"Hi, Polly!" Deb said and stood up to greet her. "We thought we'd get started, what with Lydia and Andy taking care of Beryl Watson."
"I'm sure they'll be glad to know things are moving along even if they aren't involved," Polly said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Henry walked up beside her and said, "This group of people will cause nothing but trouble. You're probably going to need a lot of help managing them."
A short, stout man with a red face and blondish, red hair that encircled a bald pate, stood up and said, "You old dog. Did you finally catch a woman here?"
Henry shook his head and chuckled. "Polly, this erudite man is Deb's husband, Louis. He's better with wood than he is with words, but he'll always find a way to embarrass me."
Deb visibly gulped, "Oh, I should have introduced you, Polly. Sometimes I get so used to having him around, I forget that not everyone knows him."
Polly smiled. "That's alright," and reached out to shake his hand. "So, what woman is this dog catching these days?" she asked sweetly.
The man stood stock still and stared at her, caught between his wife's look of admonition, Polly's apparent naiveté, and Henry's very amused countenance.
His eyes flickered back and forth between the three of them and then he broke out into laughter. "Everyone in town says she's too smart for you, Henry. You'd better be good to her."
"I make it a policy to be good to every woman I meet," Henry started and then said, "Wait. I mean. I'm always nice to women. I mean," He stopped and rolled his head on his shoulders. "I'm a good guy. Right?"
Polly leaned into him, "He's a good guy even when he's a little flustered. Thanks for doing this. I can't wait to see it as you progress."
"It's going to be a nice addition for Bellingwood," Louis said. "After all of those years of this lot barely getting any attention, we're glad to help bring it back to life."
Henry pointed to his watch and Polly, remembering, said, "I have an appointment. I'd better get inside. Thanks again,"
They walked back to her truck and Henry continued to the front door, waiting as she parked it and joined him.
Polly was working in her office when, right on time, Ken Wallers arrived. She stood up to shake his hand and gestured for him to sit in one of the chairs by her desk.
"If I'm not in trouble, what can I do for you?" she asked.
"Well, it is about Harry Bern, but you aren't in any trouble. Do you have any information from his past or did you ever hear him talk about people he knew? I can't find this man anywhere. I finally sent his fingerprints down to the Department of Criminal Investigation to see if they could find any record of him."
Polly paused to think, "I don't know. Let me ask Jeff, though. He worked with Harry more than I did."
She stood up and walked past him and then stood between the two offices, "Jeff, Ken Wallers is here asking if we knew anything more about Harry. Did he ever talk about his past or give you any names of people he knew?"
Jeff came out of his office and followed Polly back into hers, sitting down in the other chair, "He never said anything about people, but I think he was in the army at some point - maybe Desert Storm in the nineties. He said something once about hating the heat. He wasn't looking forward to July, but said it was better than being in the desert in full gear."
"We haven't found anything in his house to indicate that he served in the Army," Ken said. "There aren't any pictures out or anything personal except for things he accumulated since moving here."
"How long has he been in Bellingwood?" Polly asked.
"He rented the house he was living in a year and a half ago. He worked at the recycling plant for a while and Josie up at the convenience store said he worked for her for several months too."
"Those are the references he gave me," Jeff said. "Both of them said he was a hard worker and at that point it was all I cared about. I didn't dig too much deeper."
"Well, you’ve given me enough information to dig more deeply," Ken said. "I appreciate that."
"Do you have any idea who might have killed him?" Jeff asked.
"We don't at this time. The house had been tossed, but whoever did it must have worn gloves. There were no fingerprints except Harry's that we could find."
Ken stood up, "Thanks for your time. If I hear any more, I'll let you know."
Both Jeff and Polly stood up. She reached her hand out to shake his, "Ken, if he doesn't have anyone around who will claim his body, I'll make arrangements for a service and burial."
"Thanks, Polly. I'm sure the military will step in and the county always cremates any unclaimed bodies and buries them respectfully, but in this case, I think we'll wait until we know who he is and what has happened to him before we make any decisions."
He stepped out into the main office and then turned around, "Oh, by the way, how is Ms. Watson?"
"She's doing better. Lydia and Andy Saner are with her today and it sounds as if she will be home by the end of the week."
"I'm glad to hear it," he said. "Quite a few people called and reported that explosion. It could have been a lot worse than it was. Let me know if you need any help over there, will you?"
Polly smiled. Small towns were really something. "I will, and thanks."
After he left, Jeff sat back down. "So, could you have any more happening in your life right now?"
Polly glanced at her inbox and saw that a message had come in from Sal Kahane.
"Apparently I could. I remembered my friend from Boston is coming in next week. I have no idea where she is going to stay. I suppose she could sleep on my couch, but it's not that comfortable."
"You're in luck. Manfred Evans, the photographer who has been staying in the front room is leaving on Sunday. He said he was finished with central Iowa and moving on to northeast Iowa."
"Jeff, thank you. I can't believe I need more space here, but at least Henry and I are getting started on it." She sat back and said, "Really. That's the best news yet today. I hadn't started to worry about where Sal would sleep, but I'm sure it would have occurred to me at some point."
"We wouldn't want you to lose sleep over it, you have too many other things to worry about."
"What am I supposed to be worrying about now?"
He laughed. "Nothing. I have two people coming in tomorrow morning to interview about the custodian job. Any advice?"
"Tell them not to die or run away, and I'll be happy," Polly said.
"That’s a little over the top. Why don't I do a normal interview and we'll go from there."
"Fine," she smirked. "I hope one of them works out. Look, why don't you offer it as a full time job. Now that spring is here, we might as well hire them to do work outside as well."
"On it. That will actually make this an easier hire."
He got up to leave. "I'm sorry about your friend. Let me know if you need me to do anything, alright?"
"Thanks," she said. "I have no idea what is happening there yet, but I will."
Jeff returned to his office and Polly opened up her email from Sal.
"It's all set! I'm flying in Tuesday morning to Des Moines and will drive over to the
University of Iowa. After two days of sparkling rhetoric with learned folk, I'll head back to Des Moines. Can you pick me up at the airport about eight o'clock on Wednesday and then put up with me until Saturday?
I can hardly wait to see you!
Have you heard from Bunny? I think she's getting married this fall. She finally met 'the one' and for some reason he likes the fact that she needs him. I've met him, he's alright. I'd probably hurt him, but he's perfect for her and believe it or not, she’s happy.
Are there any gorgeous farmers out there who would like to marry a city girl? I'm always ready for anything!
Love you,
Sal"
Polly read the email twice. Bunny was getting married. That wasn't surprising. Polly figured this was the first of at least three marriages in that girl's future. She hoped he had plenty of money, because it was going to cost him when he ran screaming for his life.
She called out, "Jeff?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let me forget. Next Wednesday I have to drive to Des Moines to pick Sal up at the airport. I'm putting it in my calendar, but if I look like I'm going to lose my mind, help me keep it together."
"Got it, boss. Wednesday. Drive to Des Moines. It's on my calendar now, too."
Polly chuckled. Yes. This was her life now. She hit reply.
"Wednesday it is. Don't eat on your drive across the state. I'll take you out when you get here. Eight o'clock might be late for the folks in Iowa, but surely you won't have lost all your citification in two days.
Gorgeous farmers, eh? I don't know what I could find for you on such short notice. Can you imagine bringing your Jewish American Princess attitude to a farm? Girl, you have to be desperate. You know women actually work hard out here, right? If you're still desperate in a year, you can come back and we'll see what I can find for you.
Love you too and I totally can't wait. I'll see you on Wednesday!"
Sal Kahane had been the epitome of spoiled. Her father was a surgeon at Mass General and she had grown up with servants and a nanny, or governess, as Mrs. Kahane insisted the poor girl be called. Sal had graduated from Concord Academy before attending Boston University and by the time she met Polly, she was looking for something more in her life. She was long past wanting to be a mirror image of her mother, but it was impossible for her to completely set aside her background. Whomever she finally found to settle down with would have to be strong, wealthy, powerful and playful and if Sal wanted any part of her family's money, he was also going to have to be Jewish. As wonderful as her father was, her mother would have no part of her marrying anyone but a nice young Jewish boy.
Polly looked at the clock on her computer. Jason and Andrew were going to be here pretty soon and she needed to get changed to spend time in the barn with them.
"Let me know if you need anything. I'm going to be out in the barn," she said, ducking her head into Jeff's office.
"I'll be fine. Sylvie is coming over this afternoon. We have a small reception Friday night and then a big one Saturday afternoon."
She waved and went up to her apartment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
No rest for the wicked. Polly wondered what she had done to infuriate the universe. The last two days had passed in a blur. She sat at her desk with her head in her hands and her eyes shut. They had to hire someone soon. She was thankful for Jason who helped her with the horses in the evening, but between their care and having to clean the inside and keep the outside yard and driveway looking clean, she hadn't had a moment to stop and think. On top of that, she and Henry had been working to sort through the debris in Beryl's studio. They had carried quite a few of the canvases into Beryl's basement so she could sort through them at some point. She had cleaned up brushes and tubes of paint, tossed out blank canvases, filled tubs with paperwork and files and carried those into the basement as well.
The two girls who were studying with her, Deena and Meryl, had come over in the afternoons and knew enough about the layout of the studio to help Polly make sense of things. She figured they had a few more cleanup days and Henry could begin restoration.
This morning, though, Polly desperately needed to get through some paperwork in her office and make sure bills were paid. There was a stack of paper sitting in the inbox at the corner of her desk and she couldn't take it any longer. She turned on an online music player, browsed for a few minutes and landed on a light jazz channel and began opening envelopes.
People were coming and going and she assumed most of them were preparing for one or the other wedding receptions that was happening in the auditorium over the weekend. It took all of her willpower to remain at her desk and work rather than wander around and chat with people.
Jeff knocked on her door, "Polly, do you have a minute?"
"Sure, Jeff. I'd rather do about anything than this."
He smiled, stepped in, shut the door and sat down.
"I think I might have found someone to fill the position, but it's a little outside of the box."
"What do you mean by that? Are you implying that we've been hiring normal people up until now?"
"Okay, you’ve got me there. But this one is going to require us to take a little bit of a risk."
Polly sat back and scowled. "Is he going to die on me?"
Jeff laughed, "You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"
"I'm sorry," she said, "Go ahead."
"I know you might be gun shy after finding out that Harry Bern’s background was a little thin and yes, this one isn’t much better, but I like him a lot."
"What do you mean, isn’t much better?"
"Well, he won't give me much information. Said he wants to work here for a month. He asked if we could pay him in cash, and then at the end of the month, if things works out, he'll tell us everything about himself and we can do all of the background checks we want and get him on the regular payroll."
"Oh, Jeff!" Polly mocked. "That doesn't sound weird at all. Of course I want to hire someone who is living here incognito. Of course I want to have him around our guests and my house."
He shook his head, "You're right. It's too strange and too risky. I'll tell him we're not interested."
"Why in the world would you think he'd be good for us?"
"Because he's polite and his hands are calloused. He's known what hard work is. He asked about your horses and how long you'd had them and if he took the job would you consider allowing him to help you care for them. He asked about the property and talked about big gardens and knows what to do with lawns. He asked about new construction and said that he'd done that in the past and wondered if he would be able to help out with any of that."
Jeff sat back. "I didn't think that giving him a one month trial would be such a bad thing. I talked about our guests and the events that we have here. He said he didn't have a lot of nice clothes, but if you wouldn't mind providing him with Sycamore House shirts, he'd wear those whenever he was working. He told me he had scrubbed a lot of toilets in his time and that good hard work was worth doing well."
"You're kicking me in the teeth here, Jeff. He sounds perfect. Why do you suppose he doesn't want us to know who he is yet?"
"I don't know, Polly. But, if he's willing to come clean at the end of a month, why couldn't we take a chance on him?"
"Did he tell you anything at all?"
"He told me he was in the army a long time ago. I'd put him around forty-eight or so. Who knows, maybe he served in Desert Storm in Iraq."
Polly scowled again, "That’s an odd coincidence, don't you think? We have two men show up in Bellingwood and they both served in the Army, probably in Desert Storm?"
"I don't know," Jeff replied. "People move around a lot. Harry came into town at least a year and a half ago. It's not like they both showed up at the same time."
"It’s still a strange coincidence. He didn't say anything about Harry, did he?"
"No, but I did tell him why we were hiring. I figured I needed to be up front about the fact that t
he last few custodians here haven't worked out."
Jeff hesitated and continued, "There is one more thing, Polly. He's been burned and scarred very badly. I didn't ask him about it, but he doesn't try to hide it and he doesn't act like he's ashamed of it."
"Is that why you want to hire him?"
Jeff looked down, "I suppose that’s part of it. He genuinely seems like a good person and I don't know why he isn't telling us who he is right up front, but I like him."
"You like him?"
"Polly, I had an uncle who was burned in Viet Nam. His scars messed him up. He never had the confidence to go look for a job and because of that, he didn't have the confidence to do anything except sit in a bar every day and drink his life away. It nearly killed my mom to watch him fall apart. There wasn't anything she could do except offer him safety every once in a while. He'd come to our house once a week, take a shower, eat dinner with us and fall asleep on the couch. The next morning he would always be gone before we got up, but during those nights with us, he came alive."
Jeff's eyes misted up, "We knew him so well that he felt safe in our house, but he wouldn't let his little sister do anything more than that for him. He'd talk about the years he was a kid with mom and they would laugh together at their memories. But, he never talked about his hopes and dreams. He had decided at some point that he didn't have a future."
"Do you think that by hiring this man, you'll give him a future? That's a lot of expectation for a custodial job, Jeff."
"I know. You're right. I thought I could give him a safe place for a while. Who knows how long he'll stay or what he'll do with it. I suppose I'm still trying to fix Uncle Dick, and I shouldn't do that."
Polly sat forward. She smiled. "No, Jeff, that's exactly what you should do. Sycamore House is about giving shelter to people who need it. We aren't here simply to provide an auditorium for those who can afford to pay for expensive weddings for their daughters or for artists to hide while they're creating. We're here for everyone. Bring him in and introduce him to me. Hire him. At this point, I hope he makes it with us the whole month so I can figure out what the big mystery is!"
Treasure Uncovered (Bellingwood #3) Page 8
