“Thanks. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. How long are you staying?”
Peter gaped at her in amazement.
“How long am I staying? Claudia, we’re traveling together, remember? Unless you’ve purchased a vehicle or can find someone to take you to Chicago, I think I’ll be here as long as you are.”
EIGHT
Back in her mere-queen-size-bedroom, Claudia brushed her teeth and reflected on the conversation with Peter. He made so much sense. She felt almost silly for locking herself in the restroom when he had hinted at compromising her virtue. These days it was probably harder to find a man who didn’t assume chastity a mere challenge to conquer. His explanation of why he’d abandoned her and the reason for the prolonged search seemed logical. Since Monday she’d convinced herself she hadn’t really been attracted to him, only the attention he paid her. Now she remembered his charm, ease of manner, and flattering overtures.
After one more visit to Amos, when she’d hand over the watch to him, she and Peter could leave. Once back home, she planned to reevaluate their relationship. Proud of her mature reaction, she took the flannel nightgown from her suitcase and pulled it over her head. Vowing never again to wear sweats for sleeping, she climbed into bed. She picked up the Agatha Christie mystery she’d found upstairs, read until her eyes drooped and then shut out the light. Just before she fell asleep, a wisp of thought ran through her brain. I wonder what Ezra would tell me to do.
Friday morning, Claudia woke to light dancing outside her eyelids. Not taking time to put on slippers, she vaulted the cold floor to reach the window. Sun scattered blue light along the canopy of sky and coaxed azure from the water. Lake Superior folded waves and tossed them to the shore where they erupted in white froth. The snow-covered village transformed to a multi-faceted mirror, ricocheting sunrays in every direction. The extravagant power of light almost blinded Claudia, but she stared out the window until her eyes ached.
When she had absorbed enough radiance, she showered and dressed and hit every rasping step down to the first floor.
Peter, Ann explained, had told her he preferred breakfast in his room. “And if you don’t mind, could I join you in the sitting room? I haven’t eaten yet because I wanted to get a meal ready to take to Amos. This is a shocking breach of etiquette, and I’m ashamed to admit I’ve done it before with other guests who are more like friends.” She stood with a tray balanced on her arm.
Claudia saw it held two of everything. “In my part of Chicago we call that schmoozing, or maybe a foregone conclusion. I would love to eat with you. Solo dining is not my thing.”
Ann beamed and served them each a portion of Blueberry Stuffed French Toast and bacon. Claudia rhapsodized over everything and speared a section of lanky bacon strip. She paused with it halfway to her mouth.
“Does that mean Amos is coming home today?”
Ann had been frowning over the French toast. She held up a finger for Claudia to wait a moment while she dissected a portion, still frowning. “Ugh. Too gooey. Sorry Claudia, this is a new recipe, and you and Peter are my poor guinea pigs. Anyway, Amos is coming home this morning, and when he gets settled, he hopes you’ll come visit.”
In spite of her misgivings, Ann cleaned her plate and split another piece of the blueberry goo, as she called it, with Claudia, who thought it tasted divine.
Peter emerged from his room as Claudia was settling into a long cushioned bay window for another look at the village and lake. He joined her.
“I didn’t know towns like this existed any more. Definitely quaint Americana. I want to look around. Care to join me?”
Claudia agreed they could explore until the call came that Amos was ready for her.
“You have to understand I haven’t seen much of the area except Blossom’s and the snow fence to Amos’s house,” she told Peter as they set out on foot. “But it’s too glorious to stay inside.”
They passed the grocery store, an elderly brick building leaning against an equally feeble real estate office. Felix Rich shambled from the store, stuffing a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Claudia surprised herself by waving at him. He didn’t surprise her when he ignored the wave. His snowmobile started with its customary clamor, and Peter swore as Felix pulled from the curb.
“I may be a city boy, but I know a healthy snowmobile doesn’t sound like that.”
“Actually, Philip says it sounds like a demented cow calling for her calf.”
Peter wrinkled his nose at the exhaust fumes. “Philip is being kind.”
The town clung to several steep hills. That morning Claudia could swear they all only went up. Her still-sore calf muscles urged her to stop at the library, a charming quarry stone building with leaded glass windows facing the lake. Peter had quickly tired of quaint Americana, and willingly followed her. They warmed their toes by the ubiquitous radiators, and Claudia sat where she could see the view while reading a local paper. Peter, who’d exhibited a sort of when-you’ve-seen-one-Great-Lake-you’ve-seen-them-all attitude, roamed the stacks.
Claudia was delighted to find so many names she recognized in the newspaper. Bud and Ann were interviewed about the ups and downs of managing a B&B. Ups—making new friends, living where you work. Downs—always feeling you are onstage, living where you work. Ezra begged everyone to observe leash laws and added a reminder that spaying and neutering were legitimate birth control, and not contrary to the will of God. Blossom shared a recipe for stuffed eggplant, with a note that if eggplant cost the earth or couldn’t be found, one could substitute squash.
Claudia looked up to share this tidbit with Peter, but he wasn’t in sight. Her legs needed to stretch, so she rose for some exploring of her own. Rounding a corner next to the checkout desk, she collided with him. He slipped an arm around her waist.
“Did you miss me?”
“No,” she answered, and pushed away the arm. “Have you been keeping busy?”
He grinned, unoffended. “It’s a great little library. I got started on an Ellery Queen and lost track of time until my stomach kicked up a fuss. Is there anywhere to eat lunch?”
“Blossom’s opens before noon, I believe. If you think the library is interesting wait ’til you see the restaurant.”
Peter was gratifyingly fascinated by the pink building and its decor. Blossom told them to sit wherever they wanted since weekdays in winter it never filled up for lunch. They chose a table with a hula skirt swinging from the edges, grass place mats and palm tree salt and pepper shakers.
Ruby was the only waitress on duty, and she showed inordinate interest in Peter, who engaged in mild flirtation.
“Ruby, tell me what’s good, besides the service and the view.”
“How about this,” Ruby told him. “You tell me what you want from the menu, and I’ll make sure Blossom doesn’t mess with it.”
Blossom glared from behind the bar.
“Don’t you listen to that upstart. I’m just taking a chicken potpie out of the oven and nobody finds fault with my chicken potpie. Do they, Ruby?”
Ruby laughed and brought Peter a mug of tap beer and Claudia a cup of coffee. The beer appeared pale and watery; the coffee was dark, robust, and excellent. Like all the locals who depended on tourist trade, Ruby moderated her curiosity with a healthy dose of respect for their privacy and withdrew from earshot. As it was, Claudia found herself with little to say to Peter. He made small talk about the decorations, but after she picked up and put down the palm tree shakers for the fourth time, he gave a grunt of irritation.
“Claudia, we never were this uncomfortable with each other before. I tried to explain what happened, and I asked you to forgive me, both for leaving the gas station without you and for assuming you would want a more physical relationship. I’m pretty attracted to you. I can’t be the first guy to assault the concept of your honor.”
Claudia’s hand jerked and the saltshaker fell on the table, spilling out a few grains. She studied them.
“That isn’t true. Since
my face got sliced, I haven’t needed to fight off the guys. Honestly, you are the first man in ages wanting to pursue a relationship. I should thank you for giving me back some confidence. I do appreciate your attention and your companionship Peter. Just make certain you don’t assume a damaged girl will be so grateful for your overtures that she’ll fall into bed.”
A flush rose in Peter’s face and her own flushed miserably in response.
“That was a low blow, Claudia.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Ruby had been standing by with their meals and when she saw the intense conversation replaced by silence she hurried over, distributed their plates of steaming potpie, and wiped up the spilled salt. She filled Claudia’s coffee cup, brought Peter another beer, and went back in her corner.
They couldn’t fault the potpie but couldn’t fully enjoy it either. The French toast still sat heavy and conversation lagged. When they’d finished enough of the meal to avoid offending Blossom, Claudia made restless motions, hoping Peter would realize she didn’t want to sit and pretend to chat any more. He signaled for the check and, after raised eyebrows at the price of his beer, paid Ruby and gave her a generous tip. He called his compliments on the meal to Blossom along with admiration for her stratagem of dressing up her water with a little booze.
Claudia was already at the door. “Let’s go back to the Weary Traveler. I want to see if Amos is home yet.” She called a thank you to Blossom, whose arms began windmilling. At the same time her head jerked sideways while she raised her eyebrows and grimaced in their direction. Peter started toward her and all movement ceased, only to resume a second later with a slight shift directed at Claudia.
“I think in her understated way, our hostess is saying she wants to talk to you alone, my dear,” he told her, amused.
Claudia went to the bar.
Blossom leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t forget your free meal.”
Claudia had, and protested that a free meal was not necessary.
Blossom wasn’t finished. “I decided not to deprive Romeo there from the privilege of paying for you. Watered down beer indeed!” And she flounced back into the kitchen.
Neither Peter nor Claudia had much to say on the short walk to the inn. The sun, reluctant to replicate its dazzling early morning performance, relaxed behind a threadbare curtain of clouds, still visible but unwilling to flaunt its full glory. Claudia shivered as they mounted the front steps.
They crossed the porch and Philip threw open the door. “Did you get the call from Mom at Blossom’s? She just phoned a few minutes ago. Bet you didn’t. Right? You didn’t hear?” His excitement was palpable.
Claudia prepared to respond, but Peter beat her. “What happened?”
Philip looked over his shoulder and sped through the narrative, obviously trying to get out the news before his mother got the chance to trump him.
“When Amos’s daughter brought him home from the hospital they found the house ripped apart! Somebody knew he was gone and figured out it was a good time to see if he had any valuables. Every stinking room is a mess!”
Claudia thought of the warm little house with its delightful jumble of hanging paraphernalia and her stomach lurched. Behind her Peter muttered, “That poor old guy can’t catch a break, can he?”
Philip agreed. “Amos’s got some family up there with him and Lem and Ezra Prosper are checking for fingerprints and DNA.”
“Lem and Ezra Prosper?” Peter wedged the words between Philip’s narrative. “Makes me think of Andy and Barney. They’re law enforcement, I take it?” Philip drew breath to speak but Peter had directed the question at Claudia.
With an apologetic glance at Philip, she answered. “Lem is county sheriff and Ezra, his brother, is the justice of the peace and dogcatcher. He encourages spaying, looks for lost pets, checks out abuse...” Claudia stopped at the quizzical expressions on Philip and Peter and wondered why she’d been so eager to talk about Ezra.
“I thought I should go help at the deBoer’s but my mother”—Philip’s tone swam in acid—“says I’ll only be in the way.”
They were in the foyer now, and Ann met them.
“I see Western Union got to you with the news first.”
“If you think you can confuse me with an archaic term like ‘Western Union’ you are sadly mistaken. For your information nobody could have afforded the missive I just delivered. Too many words. Messenger boy will now resume his studies to reap rewards associated with clean living and superior brains.” Philip left with his head high.
His mother watched him leave. “That child never ever ceases to flabbergast me. No, don’t take your coat off, Claudia. I’m taking you up to see Amos. He’s asking for you. Sorry, Peter, you aren’t invited. Let the kid with the superior brains know if you need anything.”
Ten minutes later, Claudia and Ann stood in Amos’s kitchen. Every hanger had been jerked from the ceiling and tossed to the floor.
“We can’t clean up until Lem and Ezra are done looking things over. I sent everyone else home for now,” a woman with short, permed gray hair told Ann. “It will take us forever to get it back the way Dad had it. He won’t be convinced to put the stuff in drawers or on shelves or on top of the counter. He is so blasted stubbornly proud of how he put this all together. I think he hopes National Geographic will come photograph the place someday.”
Ann introduced Claudia to Amos’s daughter, Sue, also mother of Jacy who had cooked breakfast the morning they searched for Amos.
“How much family does Amos have?” Claudia asked.
Sue’s answer was prompt. “Direct descendants? Last count, twenty-seven. Twenty-eight once Jacy delivers that baby elephant she’s carrying around. Extended family I can’t even keep count. DeBoers are thick up here.”
Claudia was sure the little one-story house couldn’t have more than four or five rooms. “You grew up here?” she asked in incredulous admiration.
“Heavens, no. This was my grandfather’s house. Dad moved in after Mom died, to help out, even though Dad was legally blind by then. Grandpa lived to be almost a hundred, and Dad is determined to beat his record. Now you best come see him. He’s in the bathroom.”
Claudia hesitated, embarrassed to intrude on Amos in the restroom, but Sue chugged through the debris, nudging aside a pile with an impatient foot or picking up an item and sighing over it.
“Dad? Dad, Miss Alexander is here.”
She said over her shoulder to Claudia, “The front room is almost put together. Dad never goes in there, and with fewer of these darn homemade stalactites the mess is less. He can’t wait to talk to you, but I told him not in the bathroom.”
To Claudia’s relief Amos was sitting on a closed toilet, taping a ripped gelatin box.
“Miss Alexander, welcome. Sorry things aren’t more presentable. Susie tells me we’re going into the front room to talk. It’s pretty cold in there, but I think we have some lap robes. And do you mind grabbing a handful of those boxes and more duct tape? I can’t eat enough gelatin and pudding to replace the ones that got ripped down.”
“Dad, you are not making a guest put those boxes back together!” Sue protested, and Ann chimed in simultaneously.
“Amos, everyone in town will give you their empty containers. You’ll be able to hold more medicine bottles than a Peace Corp ship.”
From the expression on Amos’s face, Claudia guessed this was his hope all along. She held his arm and stepped across the tiny hallway into the dining room. It also seemed to serve as storage for things Amos didn’t use often enough to warrant hangers, and ripped boxes and upturned crates lolled haphazardly atop heaps of odds and ends. In the midst of the mess, Ezra was taking notes while Lem shot photographs. Ezra gave Claudia a distracted wave.
She waved back. “You joined the police force now?”
“Nope. The deputy has to man the police station, and Lem has no idea how to cope with crime sprees on his own. So I volunteered to be the brains of the
operation.”
Lem compared Ezra’s brains to something Claudia couldn’t make out, but which made the brothers and Amos guffaw. Claudia wasn’t about to let the Good Ol’ Boys Club get any more raucous.
“Philip said you’re checking for DNA. Is it all right for us to go through here?”
“Heaven help us if we had to do that.” Lem grunted. “Our little department doesn’t run to it, especially since nobody was hurt and nothing stolen as far as we can tell. Besides, no way could we keep track of everybody who’s been through here to eliminate old prints. Amos keeps things tidy, but he doesn’t necessarily spit and polish.”
Sue glared at him. “I clean this house top to bottom every month for Dad, on my hands and knees! Are you implying I don’t do a good enough job, Lem Prosper?” He blew her a kiss and aimed the camera at her. She scampered from the room, squawking.
Claudia leaned toward Amos. “Is Lem like Ezra?”
“As like as any brothers. Hasn’t he talked about him much?” Amos asked.
“Is Lem pretty normal?”
“I’d say so.”
“That’s probably why he hasn’t talked about him.”
Amos’s daughter returned, still muttering under her breath and carrying an armload of blankets. Amos turned toward her.
“Susie, calm down, baby.”
Claudia was delighted to hear the silver-haired, indignant little woman addressed as “baby.”
“Nobody is questioning how you take care of me. But if you want to show off a little, could you make us something hot to drink? How’s cocoa sound, Miss Alexander? I mix up my own recipe. Been making it since Susie was a little girl. And Sue, please see if anyone else wants some.”
Sue handed her father the blankets. “Sure Dad. I have nothing better to do.” She caught herself. “Oh dear,” she stammered, her ears growing pink, “please forgive me everyone. I’m happy to make you hot cocoa. It just may take time to locate what I need in all that mess.” She scuttled toward the kitchen after telling the Prospers she would bring them each a cup also.
Winter Watch Page 8
