Ezra threw a log in the stove and settled back on his chair. “Bernice lives northeast of Barley a couple of miles in a tangled mess of trees that used to be an apple orchard. She married a local man, but she comes from Indiana where she was an auto mechanic. Rumor says she got into trouble for installing used parts and charging for new. Anyway, she and Tom Ebenezer married when both were past their spring-chicken phase of life. Tom already had a son from a first marriage. Tom and Bernice collaborated and produced a second son. Those boys terrorized their schoolmates, small animals, tourists, and each other. They were drinking beer by the time they were eight and hard liquor before their teens. Tom drank and fought along with his sons and Bernice ignored the lot of them and watched television.
“One day about six or seven years ago the youngest one fell on his hunting rifle while he was dead drunk. Killed instantly. And though no one liked him at all, and no one cared for Bernice too much, Barley is full of kind people. They brought meals and flowers and sympathy to Bernice and Tom, and three months later, when the oldest son drove into a tree doing eighty while he was dead drunk, everyone hit high gear. People couldn’t understand how one family could endure so much.
“Now Bernice was starting to get used to the attention. She called the head of the church prayer chain here a few months after the oldest boy was killed and told them her sister in Illinois had died. Once again everyone came with casseroles and lots of kindness. It started to seem that every few months Bernice lost another relative. By the time she alerted the churches that something like her step-great-uncle died in his sleep at the age of a hundred and two, folks started to flag in their sympathy. The further distant the relationship, the fewer the casseroles. Bernice took note. One night a call came to the police station that Tom had been watching television in the bathtub. It fell in and electrocuted him. All of a sudden the church ladies of Barley couldn’t do enough for Bernice. Meals, desserts, jams, flowers, scented candles all came pouring in and Bernice was in her glory.
“But some people had their suspicions. Tom wasn’t known as an aficionado of bathing or a big television man. He wasn’t a big man at all, and with Bernice twice his size it would have been easy for her to toss him in the tub and throw the TV after. But no one could prove it, and no one really wanted to. A year or thereabouts later Bernice’s cousin—poor foolish woman—came for a visit. When she turned up dead in the woods, the local authorities thought it time to request an autopsy, in spite of loud protests from Bernice. The cousin turned out to be a three-pack-a-day smoker, and her lungs were a disaster, but she also had nicotine in her stomach and it could have poisoned her. Once again, nobody could prove anything and Bernice got a few dinners and a little flower bouquet out of it.
“Now it seems that whenever the condolences drop off, Bernice knows someone else who died. She’s out of family and no one dares be her friend, so she’s started losing pets.”
Claudia was horrified. “Did she kill all those relatives?”
“I doubt it. She seldom leaves the area. Some were old, and since her family doesn’t seem to indulge in healthy lifestyles, I’d guess most deaths were legitimate. She could even have made up relations. Sympathy can be mighty addicting.”
“Why do you let her keep killing animals?” she asked in indignation.
Ezra was defensive. “We can’t prove anything. Poisonous plants are all over, and Bernice’s dogs roam free. The good I can say about her is that the animals don’t suffer, and they are usually old and sick in the first place. No one within fifty miles will sell or give her a pet, and I won’t allow her any from the pound. Once in a while though, she goes on a jaunt and comes back with some poor creature. Local boys try to rescue the dogs when they’re out wandering. Unfortunately there are times when Bernice gets to one of them first. But I can’t take any more of that woman’s dead pets, and I’m telling her she can’t have any more animals. I’ll make up some code violation if I have to.”
“I sounded judgmental,” Claudia told him. “I’m sorry.”
“Bernice brings out the worst in people, myself included.”
She didn’t want the cupcake but felt she should eat it as penance for her criticism. Ezra fiddled with the fire and kept checking her progress. When she’d dabbed the last bit of creamy filling from her lips, he leaned forward.
“You heard about our local drama. Sounds as though you might have an interesting story of your own?”
Claudia grimaced. “I wish I hadn’t mentioned it. When I’m nervous, I tend to chatter and say things I don’t mean. Bernice is kind of a community story but mine is so personal.”
Ezra made an understanding gesture and was about to speak when the grumble and sputter of Felix’s snowmobile filtered in. Claudia looked at her watch in surprise. She couldn’t have been here two hours. Half-past twelve. Her chauffeur had a generous opinion of what constituted “around one”.
“You didn’t want to stay long, did you? I even planned to offer you a hospitable luncheon.” Ezra grimaced as he fetched the snowmobile suit. She bundled up with an apologetic smile.
“Felix what’s-his-name decided what time to pick me up.”
Ezra checked the mantle clock and his expression changed to one of comprehension.
“I wasn’t in a position to argue. Don’t worry one bit about not feeding me. After Ann’s breakfast and that cupcake, I don’t have room for lunch. No.” She stopped him as he started out the door with her. “You don’t need to walk me out during a blizzard, for pity’s sake.”
“Blizzard? This is just a snowstorm with enthusiasm. Be careful now!”
What a nice man, Claudia thought as she picked her way down the steps, what a nice inquisitive man. A little more sympathy, and she might have told him about the tawdry events of the previous day. A few minutes after she’d spilled everything, she would have been filled with the fervent desire that she’d kept her mouth shut.
“Bless you, Felix Whatever,” she whispered to the grubby coat.
THREE
Her gratitude was short-lived. The ride back to the Weary Traveler had no more to commend it than the trip to Ezra’s house. Between the filth on the visor and the blowing snow that wasn’t a blizzard, Claudia saw little and didn’t realize they were at the inn until Felix sputtered to a stop. She forced her stiff legs from the machine and turned to face him. He ignored her mouthed thanks but not the handful of cash she held out with the helmet. Ann Gomer intercepted her as Claudia dragged her shivering self to the door.
“I’m sorry you had to ride with Felix. He would not have been my choice. And that machine of his! Philip calls it a demented cow bellowing for her calf. Give me those wet clothes and go warm up by the fire in the parlor to your right. It’s warmer than the one in your room. I’ll get you something hot to drink. When you’ve thawed, feel free to start throwing things at the scholar when he nods off over his math homework. It’s great entertainment.”
Claudia wondered if mothering came standard as a bed-and-breakfast amenity. She handed over her damp outerwear before easing into an armchair near the fireplace. At a nearby table, Philip dozed over schoolbooks. Through the open door, she watched Ann hold the snowmobile suit out the front door, shake it, and then hang it along with hat and mittens by a radiator in the foyer. She disappeared and returned moments later with a mug of hot cocoa, a plate of cookies, and a feather duster. She handed the mug and cookies to Claudia and poked her gently drooling son with the duster handle. Claudia experienced a small spasm of guilt that she’d let Ann down. She’d not tossed a single thing at the slumbering boy.
“I don’t have the heart to brutalize anyone who looks that sweet. Especially someone struggling with calculus.”
“It’s trigonometry, and that sweet face is going to snore itself into a life of ignorance, want, and poverty.” Grabbing a handful of wrapped candy from a cut glass dish, Ann lobbed them in her son’s direction.
He raised his head, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, unwrapped a mint, and bit in
to it with a grin for Claudia. She couldn’t suppress an answering smile. Ann picked up the rest of the candy and ruffled her child’s hair before pinching his earlobe.
“Claudia—is Claudia all right? Or do you prefer Miss Alexander? Come to Blossom’s with us tonight. I know you were there last night but we can help you steer clear of the specials, introduce you around if you’d like, give you some company. And you can’t really get much else in town unless you order out for pizza or subs, or pick up something from the grocery store.”
Unable to insert an appropriate response at the appropriate times, Claudia played catch-up. “Yes, please call me Claudia. If I won’t be a nuisance, I’d love to come with you since I hate to dine alone. I honestly have never seen a restaurant like Blossom’s in my life. When should I be ready?”
“If Bud finishes sanding the bureau and the slug here gets his thirty problems done, we’ll set out at five. Your boots will be dry and ’til then you just relax or explore the house. You are intelligent and well-mannered enough to stay away from the areas marked ‘Private,’ I can tell. I wish all our guests were. Sound good?”
Without waiting for an answer Ann bustled herself off. Philip waited for her to leave, shut his book, stacked notebook, calculator, and pencils and reached for another piece of candy.
“Do you enjoy exasperating your mother?” Claudia asked with curiosity.
“You bet. It’s getting too easy, though. She’s not as much of a challenge as she used to be. Or maybe I’m just that good.”
“She wanted me to keep you awake until you finished your math.”
Philip remained smug. “I got done an hour ago. Didn’t I tell you tormenting her is getting easier all the time?”
“You remind me of my brother. He’s got a good ten or so years on you, he’s a civil engineer, husband, dad, deacon at church, and he still teases our mom mercilessly.”
“That’s a relief to hear. My dad keeps telling Mom I’ll outgrow this phase so I’ve been hanging on for dear life.” Philip creased his candy wrapper and looked at Claudia. “I’m sort of disappointed to hear you have something as mundane as family. Last night you had that Orphan-of-the-Storm look. You were on the way to becoming our local enigma.”
“What? I’ve haven’t been in town twenty-four hours!”
“We’re fast with our gossip up here, or it freezes and gets blown into the lake. Hey! That was pretty good for off the top of my head. Was it an analogy, a metaphor, a simile, or personification? Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know that bad. Seriously though, we get outsiders up here this time of year, even vacationers and ice fishers. When a town gets hit with as many tourists as Barley, we get pretty good at figuring out what type those tourists are. You don’t fit any of them. At least not yet.” He leaned back with his arms crossed and waited for Claudia to respond. She fidgeted with the magazines on the table.
“Would you believe I’m a travel writer?”
“Without a car? If you write for a walker’s magazine you picked the wrong season.”
Claudia laughed. “I am, in a way. I was a journalism major at school and interned for an Illinois travel magazine. They said they’ll give me a job if circulation starts to pick up.”
Philip regarded her through narrowed eyes. “Well, I’ll bet my dinner at Blossom’s you aren’t just up here to research an article on Barley in the winter.”
“I’ll bet you’re right.” Claudia added nothing more but a pleasant smile. Anyone who enjoyed deliberately exasperating his mother could stew in curiosity.
Philip tried to keep his narrow interrogator’s gaze on her, but after a few seconds, uttered a theatrical sigh. “Fine. I don’t pay for my own dinner anyway.” He picked up his books to leave the parlor but paused at the door. “However, you can’t stop me from deep and intelligent speculation on your mission to Barley in February.”
~*~
By five o’clock the snow had diminished. Claudia stood in the foyer, watching as Ann, threatened her husband and son with violence if they refused to wear hats and gloves. Claudia hadn’t met Bud yet and Ann introduced them.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Alexander. I hope your stay will be pleasant.”
Claudia waited for a similar onslaught of words the likes of those his wife and son were so adept at delivering, but Bud Gomer appeared a taciturn man. Philip and Ann, in constant motion accompanied by ceaseless conversation, swirled around him while Bud lit a pipe with spare, expert movements and waited, at ease. Claudia would have thought him colorless next to his dynamic wife and engaging son, but his eyes were kind, and lines around his mouth showed humor.
Ann decided to walk because they needed fresh air, but told them they had to get home before the next storm hit, and so couldn’t stay out late. Philip had shoveled the sidewalk just a short time before, and called everyone’s attention to the fact. He moaned to his father about his aching back while Ann tucked Claudia’s arm into hers.
“Isn’t Blossom’s amazing? The restaurant has been written up in travel guides, magazines, even the Chicago Tribune. Blossom has creativity to spare. It spills right out of her. When she gets bored, which is often, she redecorates. She’s too sentimental and thrifty to throw everything away so she just incorporates old decorations in with the new scheme. Since she opened, the place has gone through a South Seas island phase, a farm theme, Far East, what else?”
“Did I also see sports bar and maybe Wild West?”
“Oh, right! I think that’s all. No, wait. Were you in the bathroom? All Golden Age of Hollywood.”
Claudia peered through the light snow. They were almost at Blossom’s. She had been too distracted the night before to realize just how pink the building was.
Ann smiled fondly at the restaurant. “Blossom’s son Benny is the same age as Michael, my second child. Benny’s favorite color is pink and Blossom can’t say no to him. He’s the one who hand writes the cards with the specials every day, and if you see him, he will tell you he has Down’s syndrome and ask if you want to see his box of medals from Special Olympics.” She released Claudia’s arm with a pat. “I’m glad you came with us tonight. I get pleasure seeing my beloved town through the eyes of another.”
Claudia wanted to talk longer with this warm, level-headed woman. But they were at the massive front door, and the Blossom’s crowd waited on the other side.
Little had changed from the previous evening. They wove through the assemblage looking for an empty spot. Ann stopped abruptly at one of the fragile Oriental tables, occupied by a pretty, fine-boned woman, a very large man, and a sleepy boy who looked about Philip’s age.
“Crystal, can Philip sit with you? You haven’t ordered yet, have you? Great. Thanks. He’ll be bored stiff with us, and I don’t want our guest to know what a lout we are raising any sooner than she needs to.”
Claudia was introduced to Crystal and Saul Cornelius and their son Andy.
“You probably saw Rachel, their daughter, last night. She’s a waitress here and a high-school senior. A year older than Philip and Andy.”
Philip collapsed onto one of the delicate chairs, which creaked in protest.
His mother shook her finger at him. “Don’t break Blossom’s chair for goodness sake. Tell Rachel to put your order on our bill. Try not to fall asleep in your salad.”
He blew a kiss at his mother who blew one back and then guided Claudia toward Bud, who was now seated at a sturdy wood trestle table near the bar.
“Andy and Philip are great friends,” Ann confided. “They’ve been dozing together since they were in diapers, although I have an inkling my child will be staying awake tonight. Watch this.”
The lovely Rachel had slipped through the swinging kitchen door and skimmed between the tables. Philip remained lounging, but the grin he sent her way dazzled. She ignored him until well past, then allowed herself a complacent smile. Claudia laughed at the effortless flirtation.
An elderly gentleman in a bright red coat came in, handing himself from t
he back of one chair to the next. He sniffed when he reached their table.
“That is some nice perfume. Smelled it for the first time last night. Welcome to Barley, young lady.” Gripping the chair next to Claudia’s with one hand, he extended the other toward her ribcage.
“Claudia Alexander, this is Amos deBoer. He’s our favorite sidewalk preacher.”
Claudia looked up into cloudy eyes that gazed at her nostrils, and aimed her hand at his. He gripped it and gave a gentle pat before letting go and digging into his pocket. He pulled out two tracts with shiny covers and waved them over the table. Ann made a grab for them. “For you, my dear. And one for your friend. Bud? Where are you? Wouldn’t hurt you to read it either. I’ll be ordering new ones before trout season begins. When they come in I’ll give you a sneak preview.” Amos felt his way to the small table beyond theirs, where he sat and beamed at no one in particular. Ann watched him and leaned closer to Claudia.
“That man is a love,” she said, sotto voce. “Amos has the blessing of his family to use up their inheritance, and he spends a good portion on religious tracts. Tourists treasure him and so do the locals. You noticed he’s blind? He lives east of town and walks along a snow fence that runs out of Barley all the way to his property. Amos always walks, but tonight I hope someone gives him a ride. I don’t want him out if that storm hits early. Oh my, here’s Ruby and we haven’t even looked at the menu. What’s good?”
“Beef Tenderloin with Roasted Shallots is the special.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“All right. The cream of asparagus soup is wonderful although I worry what black market Blossom got the asparagus from. But I’m more worried about where she got the tenderloin, or what it is tenderloin of. Go with the lemon chicken breast. I almost guarantee it’s from real chicken and real lemons.”
Claudia followed Ann’s lead and ordered the chicken. She picked up the ‘Specials of the Day’ card. “Why did you say I should steer away from these? The beef tenderloin sounded good.”
Winter Watch Page 3
