by Helen Conrad
The entire assemblage groaned, and Glenna threw a napkin at her father, laughing and shaking her head at the same time. The steaming bowl of stew was passed, the thick, crusty bread broken into single servings and the talk surged and fell as people ate.
A feeling of well-being pervaded the room. As Glenna looked from one face to another around the table, some of the fears that had plagued her all day seemed to melt away. How could anything really go wrong when people were good and caring and together in this way? She was reassured.
Her mother was discussing the differences between Spanish and Portuguese cooking with Penny Barker, when Drew Stirling distracted her with a question about garlic, and Penny turned to Glenna.
“How is that new enterprise of yours doing, Glenna? I saw you out last weekend with your video camera. Are you finding lots of things to tape?”
Glenna turned to the woman with a smile. Penny Barker had been with them almost six months now, but pretty much kept to herself. She wore her silver hair back in a stylish twist and dressed nicely. She worked part time in the lingerie department at Gates Department Store and was a pleasant conversationalist, but that was about as much as anyone knew about her. No one knew why she’d come to Tyler or why she stayed. She was friendly, she was pleasant, but she didn’t open up.
“Actually, I’m taping very specific things,” Glenna answered. “You see, what I’m trying to do is develop a series of tapes of children playing.”
“Children playing?” Penny asked curiously. “Whatever for?”
Glenna smiled. Most people reacted to her idea that way. “It began in a class I’m taking at Sugar Creek Community College. You know that I’m working on a degree in early childhood development. Well, in one psychology class I learned that preschoolers are fascinated with watching other kids their age or a little older play. They enjoy it, and they learn so much from watching the others interract. So I began experimenting with short tapes of the children at TylerTots, recording their play in the yard and on the playground equipment, and showing it back to them later.”
“And they got a kick out of watching themselves?”
“You wouldn’t believe how excited they got. And then I noticed they would sit for long periods watching others as well as themselves.”
“They’re learning from watching others.”
“Exactly. But not only that, they are also just plain entertained.” Glenna smiled, remembering. “Last week I took Megan and Jimmy and a few of their friends out to Sugar Creek Park....”
“Oh, that lovely wild, wooded park out on the highway, near the F and M?” Penny asked.
Glenna nodded. “They were so cute and they loved being video stars.”
She stopped herself, suddenly remembering what day that had been. Just over a week ago, it had been the afternoon before the annual tree-lighting ceremony in the town square. Glenna had volunteered to baby-sit for two friends who wanted to help set up charity donation booths at the event. It had also been the afternoon before the fire. For some reason she found herself glancing quickly at her father, but she drew her gaze away again and focused on her conversation.
“So it’s grown from there, and I’m hoping to develop enough material to begin marketing the concept.”
“Oh?” Penny dabbed her napkin to her lips as she looked at her with interest.
“Yes. I’ve been talking to the head of the drama department at the college, Tony Perini. He has some contacts in the video industry, and I’m trying to convince him to represent me with some of the big distribution companies.”
“Is he resisting?”
Glenna chuckled. “Yes, I’m afraid he is. He doesn’t quite understand what these videos are all about. I’m editing some of the best scenes right now, and when they’re ready, I’ll take them over to let him have a look. That ought to convince him.”
Penny nodded approvingly. “Good for you. I think it’s so nice when young people are passionate about what they are doing, and you certainly light up when you talk about it.”
Glenna smiled. “I am passionate about it. I think the project has great potential and I want to make the most of it.”
She saw a quick glance pass between her mother and father when she said those words, and she bit her lip. Her divorce had hit them hard, as it had her whole family. She knew they had hopes for her, but sometimes she wished they would give her a little more credit. It was true her marriage hadn’t worked out, and the dress shop she’d run in the past had not been a complete success. But this was going to be different. This was something she not only cared about, but knew a lot about, too. That was a new combination for her.
She’d cared deeply about her marriage, but events had shown her that she knew nothing about men or what they wanted, especially in married life. She’d known a lot about the clothing business, but hadn’t had much passion for the work. This was going to be a whole new ball game. This enterprise combined passion with knowledge, and Glenna was bound and determined she was going to succeed at it. She had to. And she would.
As Drew Stirling loaded the dishwasher, laughingly supervised by Anna and Penny, Bob Quentin got out the Lego and started building a tower with Jimmy and Megan in the den. Glenna took advantage of the quiet moment to track her father to his study. He was sitting at his desk, writing checks to cover the stack of bills he’d piled before himself.
“Dad?” she said, smiling at him.
He looked up and grinned. Glenna was a favorite with him, always had been. He wanted the best for her—happiness, healthy children, success in life. And when he saw her not quite achieving those goals, it hurt. He wanted to help her, but he knew too much help could be as bad as none at all, and for now he was lying low, letting her find her own way. But he was always ready with a helping hand if she asked for it, and he welcomed her with warmth in his eyes.
“Dad, I wanted to talk to you,” she said, dropping into a chair near him. “It’s about the fire.”
His smile dimmed. “The fire?”
She nodded. “The F and M. I met the fire investigator they sent from Madison. Lee Nielsen is his name.”
“Did you?” Johnny pushed some papers aside and settled back in his chair. “Did he tell you anything about the investigation? How long it’s going to take? We need that authorization from the insurance company so we can get moving on plans to rebuild.”
She gave him a fleeting smile. “No, he didn’t exactly tell me anything. But I heard some other things around town. Dad...” She hesitated. “Do you think the fire was an accident? Or was it set by someone?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t there, Glenna. I didn’t see it start.”
That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. She’d been so sure he would give her a guarantee she could take to the bank that she was shaken by his uncertainty. Slowly she searched his dark eyes, looking for something she wasn’t finding.
“But don’t you worry.” He patted her knee. “If the insurance money doesn’t come through, Judson will just have to dig into those deep pockets of his. He’ll manage. He always does.”
She thought she caught a touch of bitterness in his tone, and she searched his eyes even harder, wondering why she’d never noticed that before.
“Dad,” she said slowly, “I was at the library and I overheard the fire investigator asking Miss Grassley some questions.”
He nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Getting a fix on the background. Sounds like a pretty thorough guy.” His mouth twisted. “I just hope he’s quick.”
She hesitated. “Yes, but Dad, from the things he said, from the questions I heard him asking her, I had the impression...well, that he might be suspecting Judson of having his own business destroyed.”
Johnny’s head came up and he stared at his daughter, then laughed shortly. “What? That’s ridiculous. Why would Judson do a thing like th
at?”
She felt a sense of relief and wasn’t sure why. But it was good to hear her father assert this position so strongly. “I don’t know. The insurance money, maybe? You don’t know anything about this, do you?”
Johnny’s initial surprise had turned to scornful amusement. “Of course not. The entire idea is absurd.”
Of course not. She felt relief spill into her soul and she smiled at him. Of course not. How could she have let that woman’s strange, vindictive speech put her into this state of anxiety? Miss Grassley certainly had a very skewed vision of the history of this area. Glenna shook her head, remembering some of the things the librarian had said.
“Dad, have the Kelseys always worked for the Ingallses? I mean, our families have worked together in harmony for years, haven’t they?”
She looked at her father expectantly, but for some reason, [ethe took awhile to answer. “That’s one way of putting it,” he said at last. “The Ingallses are considered the founders of Tyler. Still, Jackie Kelsey was here when this whole place was an oak forest, just as Gunther Ingalls was. People forget that.”
“Oh, I think people remember.”
“Do they?” There was a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s hard when one family ends up with all the property. Some are just better at amassing fortunes than others.” He smiled wryly, the twinkle in his eye tinged with a touch of regret. “You might say some are better at grabbing and holding on, while others tend to give too much away. But the world needs both kinds of people.” He shrugged and patted her knee again, then turned back to his papers. “I’ve got to get these bills paid or the collection agencies will be coming round. Go handle your little monsters and let me get on with things.”
Jimmy and Megan could both be heard down the hall, beginning their squabbling again. Glenna sighed and rose, leaving her father with one last, lingering look. Something in his familiar, well-worn face was disturbing, scattering the peace she thought she’d found at dinner. Miss Grassley’s caustic comments came back to her, and she realized the way her father had reacted had fallen into line with some of the things the librarian had said. Glenna hated that. She liked the old version of the past a lot better.
* * *
LEE NIELSEN NODDED to the silver-haired man reading the newspaper before the fire in the living room and wandered on into the dining area, where a tray of light snacks had been left for those with the evening munchies. Somewhere in the house, a fine baritone voice was singing an aria from Aida. From the kitchen, he heard Susannah Santori’s laugh as she chatted with another guest, and he smiled, recognizing her voice from a few years back when she’d had a morning television show, “Oh Susannah!”, beaming out of Milwaukee. He’d watched it often. Now she and her husband, Joe, ran this bed-and-breakfast where he was staying. He’d been lucky to find it. He usually ended up in some cheesy motel along the highway.
“Hey.” The owner of the baritone voice walked into the room and grinned a greeting. “How’s the sleuthing going? Got any idea what caused the fire yet?”
“We’re working on it,” Lee said amiably. “It’ll be a few days before I can make a preliminary judgment.”
“Well, let me know, will you?” Joe said jovially. “I got some bets riding on it. I say the fire was an accident. I like to bet on the town, you know. I’ve lived other places, and as far as I’m concerned, this one’s a winner. So I say it was an accident. It’s just gotta be.”
Lee smiled, his expression noncommittal. “I hope you’re right,” he said.
Joe nodded, looking at him with interest. “It really doesn’t matter to you, does it?” he asked. “I mean, you get paid regardless of whether what you turn up hurts or helps the insurance company, right?”
Lee nodded, pouring himself a cup of decaffeinated coffee. “Right. That’s the way it works.”
“So bribes aren’t encouraged, huh?”
Lee’s gaze sharpened, but he could see by the twinkle in Joe’s eyes that it was only a joke. “Bribes are refused out of hand,” he said lightly. “The folks who offer them are strung up by their heels.”
“Too bad,” Joe teased. “That must cut down on your income potential.” He laughed and turned toward the door. “Well, let me know if you need anything. Your room okay?”
“The room is great,” Lee told him. “You’ve got a wonderful little inn here.”
Joe smiled, pleased. “Yes, we like it. Susannah does things up nice, doesn’t she?”
Lee nodded, and for a second he envied the obvious love in the man’s eyes and voice. He wondered how long they’d been married.
“Listen, Joe,” he said, calling him back. “Tell me something. I understand the Ingallses and the Kelseys are the two most important families in town. Is that right?”
Joe made a face. “I don’t know if I’d put it that way exactly. Old Man Ingalls is certainly looked up to—heck, he employs half the community. But in some ways, Johnny Kelsey is more important. He may only be Judson’s foreman at the F and M, but he’s on the town council.” He cocked his head to the side. “Still, there are other important families, like the Bauers, the Phelpses, the Phillipses. The Kelseys and the Ingallses may have founded the town, but that was a long time ago.”
Lee nodded, his eyes hooded. “What about Michael Kenton?” he asked. “What do you know about him?”
“Who?” Joe looked puzzled. “Oh, you mean that fellow who does odd jobs around town? The one Sarah Fleming hired to do repairs at the Fellowship Sanctuary?”
“That’s the one.”
Joe shrugged. “He seems like a nice-enough guy. Sarah sure seems partial to him.” He grinned, then sobered as he realized the possible implications of Lee’s question. “He does good work, from what I hear, but I must admit, no one knows much about him. He showed up out of nowhere a little more than a month ago. There have been rumors, ever since the fire.” He looked questioningly at Lee. “Is he a suspect?”
Lee’s smile was noncommittal. “Everyone and no one is a suspect until we get to the bottom of this.”
“Sure,” Joe said, nodding, his eyes bright. “Sure.” He looked at Lee curiously, as though he were about to ask more, then decided against it and turned toward the door again. “Well, good night,” he called, waving as he left the room.
“Good night,” Lee echoed, picking up an apple and biting into it with a crunch. Healthy. That was what this town seemed to be, just like the juicy apple he was eating.
And for some reason his mind strayed to Glenna Kelsey and her bright blue eyes. He would have to ask Joe where the Kelseys lived. That was one family he wanted to get to know better.
CHAPTER FOUR
LEE NIELSEN PULLED UP his car in front of the Kelsey Boardinghouse, turned off the engine and got out, but he didn’t go in right away. Instead, he leaned against the fender and surveyed the neighborhood. Yards in the area were neat and tidy, children’s toys littered some driveways and cheerful Christmas wreaths graced most doorways. It was a nice neighborhood, if a bit old-fashioned.
From the corner of his eye he noticed a curtain moving in the house across the street. Someone was watching him. He turned in time to see the letter carrier point him out to a man with a rake two yards down—and there it was again, his “gunfighter” response. But this time it made him grin, because he couldn’t decide if he hated or actually liked this feeling of making a difference in people’s lives.
Turning, he looked up at the sprawling white house before him. Ancient oaks and maples surrounded the place like sentinels. Glenna’s car was in the driveway, so perhaps he hadn’t come out here for nothing. He was hoping he could get her to fill in some of the blanks Miss Grassley had left in her rather vindictive approach to the subject of who might benefit from the burning of the F and M.
He’d met some eccentric people before, but Miss Grassley took the cake. She had an obv
ious ax to grind and he never trusted people like that to give him the straight scoop. They could talk your ear off, but you could believe only about a quarter of what they had to say.
Glenna, on the other hand, was not going to be an easy subject to interview. From what he’d seen up to this point, she was a rather odd and intriguing mixture of spunk and shyness. He would have to take it easy with her, go slow, maybe try to become friends before he probed too deeply.
As he approached the front door he could hear rock music playing, and as he got closer, a woman singing along. Her off-key rendition of a rock star made him smile. The huge oak door was ajar, but he knocked anyway, then rang the bell. Nothing changed. The music still blared, and the voice still sang, so he assumed he hadn’t been heard. The music was too loud.
Gently, he pushed on the door and looked in through the wide entryway into the large, comfortable living room. There was no one in sight, and he hesitated. But this was a boardinghouse, wasn’t it? People must come and go all the time. So he felt justified in walking in and heading toward the source of the music.
That turned out to be the kitchen, a large, country-style room with long counters on either side and a butcher-block island in the middle. A wall of cabinets lined the area over the sink, with an open shelf along the wall opposite, where baskets and copper kettles and pottery gave the room a homey, cheerful air.
Glenna was dusting that open shelf. She’d climbed up on the counter and was balanced a bit precariously while she wielded a dust mop and sang out at the top of her lungs, accompanying the radio.
He stopped, smiling, and watched her. This was quite a contrast to the shy, skittish young woman he’d tried to talk to the day before. Dressed in jeans and an old, off-white sweater, she was belting out the song and moving to the rhythm, which meant that her jeans-clad bottom was moving back and forth in a very attractive way. As Lee gazed in admiration, she sang out, “Hey there, doctor, now, gimme the word, I’m all out of love, or hadn’t you heard? Gotta get a refill, gotta get it quick—”
