Finders Keepers

by Catherine Palmer

  Pearlene went white. “I’ll swan, this town is so full of gossips you just never know what you’re going to hear next.”

  “The mansion’s going through probate, but I’m not anticipating any snags. Is Phil?”

  “Heavens, how would I know? I just run the dress shop is all.”

  With a look of mixed annoyance and concern, she turned on her heel and headed off. Zachary watched her go, wondering what shade of bottled blonde she put on her hair. Truth to tell, he had a hard time liking Phil and Pearlene Fox. They considered themselves big fish in this small pond. But they acted a lot like sharks.

  “There’s Pastor Paul in the pavilion,” Elizabeth said. “I’m going over for the prayer.”

  Zachary walked beside her, recognizing yet another advantage to church attendance. A good pastor could change lives. In his experience, truly effective ministers were few and far between. But Pastor Paul had a way of reaching out and drawing in his flock that made Zachary open to becoming one of them.

  Standing under a grove of towering oak trees, Zachary bowed his head as the minister offered a prayer of thanksgiving for his congregation, for the beautiful Sunday afternoon, and for the food. It was a simple but sincere prayer, and Zachary found himself imagining how God felt when a faithful man like Pastor Paul spoke with him.

  Lonely. The word filled his heart. Lonely for you, my son.

  Zachary rubbed his eyes, confused at the echoed reverberations inside him. All around, the townsfolk were chattering again, quickly forming a line on each side of the long picnic tables, loading their Styrofoam plates with fried chicken, potato salad, pork steaks, and baked beans.

  “Zachary?” Nick’s small hand slipped into his. “Are you coming to eat with us? They have workshops here. I love workshops. They smell so yummy that I can almost taste them in my mouth!”

  “Workshops?” Still dazed at the powerful realization of God’s longing for him, Zachary made his way to the end of the line.

  “Pork chops,” Elizabeth said softly. “Nick’s favorite.”

  And then Zachary started to laugh. He grabbed Nick around the shoulders and gave the boy a hug. What a cute kid. Challenging, needy, but definitely a charmer.

  “Look, there’s Mrs. Wrinkles!” Nick exclaimed, darting out of the line and racing across the pavilion toward a lovely young woman seated with her family at one of the long picnic tables.

  “Mrs. Winkler,” Elizabeth clarified. “She’s Nick’s English language teacher. She’s been with him since the first day of school. Sometimes I think she understands him better than I do.”

  “Can’t she get him to call her by her real name?”

  “Oh, she doesn’t mind. You know, there are some things about Nick that are very hard to change. He’s … he’s got a lot of special needs. Learning is difficult for him, and his social skills don’t match his age.”

  “You knew that when you adopted him?”

  “I knew he was going to have problems. A child can’t live five years in a Romanian orphanage and come out unscarred. Nick was severely abused.”

  Zachary felt his stomach sink. “Abused?”

  “Beaten, malnourished—the works. He’s a tough little survivor, though. I know God has a great plan for his life. I can’t wait to see what he’s going to do with Nick.”

  Zachary followed Elizabeth through the food line, wondering what God had planned for his life. Had Zachary lived up to God’s dreams for him? Had Zachary even tried to walk the path his heavenly Father had set out for him?

  Sure, he’d had a tough childhood, raised in poverty and then sent into the foster-care system. But Nick had faced much worse. If God had a good and perfect plan for this little boy, didn’t he have one just as good for Zachary?

  “There’s a spot over by Mrs. McCann,” Elizabeth was saying, as she carried a loaded plate in each hand. “I love to sit near her. She reminds me of my grandmother.”

  “Does everyone remind you of your grandmother?”

  “I miss Gramma a lot.” She set off in the direction of a picnic table beneath a tree. Zachary decided he was going to follow, even though he hadn’t been invited. He’d been wanting to talk to Ruby anyway. And, of course, there was Elizabeth with her sparkling eyes and sweet smile …

  “This lettuce is not fresh,” Mrs. McCann announced as Zachary and Elizabeth joined her. “I can hardly believe that Mrs. Zimmerman would send a wilted salad to the potluck.”

  Zachary fought a grin. Kaye Zimmerman ran the local beauty salon. At about five-thirty every evening, she would dash into the Corner Market and breathlessly lament her inability to put a good supper on the table for her family. Kaye’s Kut-n-Kurl just took up too much of her time, she told Zachary. That probably explained the wilted lettuce.

  “Maybe it’s supposed to be wilted,” Elizabeth was saying. “I’ve heard of such a thing as a wilted salad.”

  “Only when one can’t be bothered to select a fresh head of lettuce for one’s salad.” Ruby McCann’s brilliantly white hair gleamed in the afternoon sun, every hair perfectly placed in her curled coiffure. Zachary suspected that the librarian had a regular appointment with Kaye Zimmerman each week. But that didn’t stop her from critiquing the salad.

  “And how are you, Master Nikolai?” Mrs. McCann inquired as the boy skipped over to the table to take his place. “I see you have been chatting with your teacher.”

  “I love Mrs. Wrinkles.” Nick made the statement and then plunged into his pork chops.

  “And Mr. Chalmers, I understand your tenure as our local grocer is at an end?” Ruby asked.

  “’Fraid so. I’d keep the market open if I could, but I’ve got clients waiting. Boompah’s been up and about a lot lately, though. I predict he’ll be running the place himself soon.”

  “I cannot imagine what I would do without my morning milk.”

  “You could buy a larger carton, Mrs. McCann. A half gallon would last you several days.”

  She looked at him as though he had brought in a stack of overdue books. “I am only one person, Mr. Chalmers. My beloved husband passed away twenty years ago. In case you were unaware, the new subdivision on the outskirts of town is named for him. Yes, Mr. McCann was a generous man, and he was also thrifty. I am quite certain he would agree with me that purchasing an entire half gallon of milk would be wasteful.”

  “Did you live in Ambleside throughout your marriage?”

  “I have lived here all my life. I was born in the very house in which I reside.” She held up a gnarled finger. “Stability is a sacred thing, Mr. Chalmers. Miss Hayes recognizes that fact. You should reconsider her request to purchase the mansion from you. Tearing it down to build your office complex would be a desecration to the town and to your ancestry.”

  Zachary lifted his brows and had to smile in amazement. Everyone in Ambleside really did know his business. They knew about the mansion, his architectural work, his relationship with Elizabeth—everything. They probably all knew what a lousy Christian he’d been, too. What bitterness he carried toward his parents. What a self-centered, stubborn, and ambitious man he could be.

  “The mansion at 100 Walnut Street was built in 1886,” Mrs. McCann was saying, her eyes taking on a distant gaze. “The builder was Zachary Chalmers, your great-grandfather. He was a merchant who hailed from the town of Ambleside in northwest England’s Lake District. He came to America, founded this town in which we live, and conducted a prosperous mercantile business on the Missouri River. When he was still a young man, he built the magnificent home that bears your family’s surname.”

  Zachary looked across the park at the crumbling old house that was his legacy. “You mean I was named after the founder of Ambleside?”

  “Indeed you were. It is a grand heritage you bear, young man. In the year 1890, Zachary Chalmers’s wife bore a son. Caleb was your grandfather. A fine gentleman, he was. He carried on the tradition of the family and added to its holdings through his shipping enterprises. He died the year you were born.”


  “How do you know when I was born?”

  “My dear boy, I am the librarian of this town. I make it my business to record the history of Ambleside’s prominent families.”

  “But my family didn’t even live here. I grew up in Jefferson City.”

  “Grace Chalmers was born in 1925,” Mrs. McCann went on, seemingly oblivious to her listener. “She was a beauty even as a baby, so they say. Many years later, when Caleb and his wife had given up all hope of a son to carry on the family name, William was born.”

  “My father.”

  Mrs. McCann dabbed her lips with a paper napkin. “By then, of course, Grace had made it clear to everyone that she had no desire to ever marry.”

  “Why not? You said she was beautiful.”

  “She was unlucky in love,” Nick announced around a mouthful of pork. “That’s what Grace always used to tell us, huh, Mom? Unlucky in love.”

  “She loved a young man once, and she had hoped to marry him,” Elizabeth recalled, “but her father objected.”

  “Why?” Zachary demanded.

  “The young man was unacceptable,” Ruby explained, as though that resolved the matter. “And then William, too, became such a great disappointment.”

  Zachary reflected on his father, the familiar image of a handsome but unsuccessful man stamped in his mind. How many fledgling businesses had William Chalmers started in Jefferson City? A restaurant, a dry cleaners, a construction company. He’d sold encyclopedias, vacuums, cleaning products, and tinned popcorn. Every time something new came along, he jumped on it, sure it was going to make him rich. Instead, more children were born, the family sank deeper into debt, and the big one never happened.

  “Caleb would not have disinherited his son,” Mrs. McCann said, “but William walked away from all his family had built for him. He hated Ambleside. Despised his father. Abhorred the family heritage. He was determined to make his own way in the world, young William told his father. He was going to do things his way. And, as you know, he did just that.”

  Zachary looked down at his plate and realized he’d stopped eating. Hadn’t he adopted the exact same attitude as his father? William had failed, and Zachary had succeeded. But had such an attitude done either man much good?

  “What about my aunt?” he asked. “You told me I’d met her many times. I don’t remember that. I don’t remember her at all.”

  Mrs. McCann’s paper-thin eyelids slid shut, and she let out a deep breath. “Goodness, I am so full! I shall hardly have room for dessert.”

  “Wait.” Zachary reached out and took her thin wrist as she moved to rise. “Please, Mrs. McCann. Tell me about my Aunt Grace.”

  Cornflower blue eyes regarded him. “When you were a little boy, sometimes your mother would take you to the park and leave you in the company of a kind caretaker. She had lovely eyes and dark hair, and she doted on you. Do you remember her?”

  Zachary searched his mind. “Those swings near the trailer park … there was a slide … and a woman who caught me at the bottom … and she always wore a red coat.”

  Ruby McCann chuckled. “Oh, yes, the notorious red coat. That was her, all right. That was Grace Chalmers.”

  Rising like a thin wraith, the old woman gave him a half smile and slipped away toward the dessert table.

  Elizabeth took Nick’s hand and urged her son and his little friend from the park’s playground. The sun was setting, and most of the picnickers had gone home long ago. But Nick and Montgomery were lost in the joy of their playtime, and she didn’t have the heart to disrupt them.

  Zachary Chalmers had left the picnic not long after he’d eaten, excusing himself quietly and saying he had some business he wanted to take care of. Elizabeth had been sorry to see the man go, but she knew he was preparing to get back to work in his office the following morning. That meant the Corner Market would be closed again, and everyone would start to grumble. Phil Fox would say, “One unreliable grocery store—that’s just what’s wrong with this town.”

  She stopped as she spotted Phil himself hailing her from the parking area near the park’s gate. Great. Just who she wanted to see. Elizabeth told Nick and Montgomery to stick close as she approached the city councilman.

  “Mind if I talk with you a minute, Liz?” he asked. “I felt like we had some harsh words with each other last week, and I don’t want to leave things in a bad way between us.”

  “It’s OK, Phil. I’m just concerned about the town.”

  “Well, I am, too, don’t you know? Looks to me like we’re on the same side in this matter.”

  “Maybe so.” Elizabeth could see that Pearlene had already gone home. Phil must have returned to the park for the express purpose of having this conversation. “Well, I’ve got to get the kids into the bathtub, Phil. See you around.”

  “Just a minute, Liz.” He stepped closer, his eyes somber. “I heard you went ahead and got yourself put on the agenda for next month’s city council meeting. Are you planning to talk about that parking lot idea of mine?”

  “I’m just going to speak on behalf of Ambleside and the town’s history. I would hope the council is perceptive enough to see the value in preserving our character.”

  “You’re talking about the square.”

  “And the mansion, the Corner Market, Dandy Donuts, the drugstore—all the buildings that make Ambleside such a wonderful place to live and raise a family.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Liz; you make a persuasive speaker. I’ve been giving our talk the other day a lot of thought. I agree with you that the square needs to stay square. If we move the cannon, no telling who’s going to get mad. I think we need to keep our eye on Zachary Chalmers and that mansion, too. If he puts his office right there, downtown’s going to get too congested.”

  Elizabeth held her breath. “Are you saying you don’t support Zachary’s plan to tear down Grace’s house?”

  “Not if he’s planning to put in an office complex.” He smiled. “Are you with me on this, Liz?”

  She thought of the handsome newcomer and his dreams for the future. If she and Phil worked against him, they might just be able to put a stop to the demolition. But what would that mean to Zachary? What would it do to the growing sense of unity between the two of them? She liked Zachary Chalmers. In spite of herself, she cared about him. And worst of all, she found herself mulling over the moments of intimacy they had shared—soft laughter, gentle touches, a tender kiss …

  “Will you work with me to fight this, Liz?” Phil was asking. “Will you help me fight for Ambleside?”

  “What are you planning, Phil? I don’t see how I can have much influence.”

  “Zachary likes you—that’s plain as day. The town thinks well of you, too. And you’re on the city council agenda. You could have a lot of impact.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I was checking the deeds the other day. I talked to some of the folks over at city hall, too. If we push real hard, we might could get that deed locked up for a while.”

  “How?”

  “There’s some kind of message about the mansion in the town charter. You know, it was Zachary’s great-grandfather who built the house and founded the town, both. Seems he had some things written into the charter to make sure that his house would never get torn down. Of course, a modern-day attorney is probably going to find loopholes in that. I talked to Sawyer-the-lawyer, and he told me those old charters might not be considered legal documents. Most of them have been amended and expanded out the kazoo, so they’re not too valid. All the same, we could probably hold up Zachary’s plan for a good while. And maybe we could talk him out of building that office. We might even get the city to buy that property.”

  A ripple of chills raced down Elizabeth’s spine. “Are you telling me you’d work to help the town get ownership of the mansion?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Phil! I can’t believe you’ve had such a change of heart.”

  “I could see my notions about improv
ing the town weren’t getting anywhere, so I decided to try a different tack. I think this is going to work, Liz, if you’ll agree to cancel your talk to the council and let me get busy blocking Zachary Chalmers.”

  A prickle of wariness took the place of the chills. “I don’t see how it could hurt to let me speak to the council about the historical preservation of Ambleside.”

  “But would it help? Don’t draw attention to this issue, Liz, until I’ve had a chance to get that charter into public view. Back off, and let me work on this. Will you do that?”

  Elizabeth could sense the growing restlessness of the children as they tugged on her arms and played hide-and-seek around her legs. For some reason, she couldn’t make herself trust Phil Fox. On the other hand, he was pledging to preserve the mansion, wasn’t he? What more could she hope for?

  “OK,” she said. “I’ll call and have my name taken off the agenda. But I want to see that charter.”

  “I knew you’d go for this, Liz.” He smiled beneath his beard. “I just knew it.”

  As he stepped back into his car and pulled out of the parking area, Elizabeth studied the fading red taillights. She had just gained an ally. The mansion had received a stay of execution. So why didn’t she feel the least bit victorious?

  EIGHT

  A crack of thunder rattled the single windowpane in Zachary’s tiny upstairs office. He tapped his pen on the blueprint spread across his drafting table and studied the play of lightning that flickered on the brick wall outside. After a few minutes of hard rain, the roof would begin to leak, and he’d need to move his plastic wastebasket under the drip.

  The sketch beneath his pen offered a welcome mental reprieve from the musty smell, the seeping water, and the dim light of his current workplace. His future office building displayed every convenience of modern architectural design. Windowpanes could be opened from the inside for cleaning. Closets virtually disappeared into walls. Files hid in false pillars. The heating system ran through the floor. Executive bathrooms sported towel warmers and doorless showers that wouldn’t spatter water. The kitchen had roll-away, expandable tables, appliance garages, and a cushioned floor covering that prevented backaches.