Finders Keepers

by Catherine Palmer

  “Elizabeth!” Someone shook her shoulder. “It is almost time for the meeting.”

  She opened her eyes to find Boompah staring down at her. She must have fallen asleep and lost track of time.

  “Why you are sleeping on the porch, Elizabeth? Phil Fox has put Grace’s mansion into the subject of the ‘new business.’ The councillors are almost ready to discuss it. There sits Zachary Chalmers all by himself, and you do not stand beside him?”

  “Boompah, the mansion is Zachary’s heritage. I told you before, it’s not my business.”

  “Bah! Is your business. In Germany we give the town hall the name of Rathaus. Means the house of counsel and advice. But in English, is a good name for what happens here in Ambleside tonight. Elizabeth, I think if you will not go and help Zachary, those rats across the street are going to steal his mansion from him!”

  “Boompah, one small voice like mine isn’t going to make a difference.”

  “No? Then the biggest rat of them all will gnaw away the heart of Ambleside. You mark my words!”

  Still muttering, Boompah turned on his heel and stomped off the porch. Elizabeth leaned back in the swing. She knew what an effort it was for the old man to walk across the street to her house without assistance. Never had she seen him so worked up.

  She swung her feet back and forth the way Nick often did. Then she checked her watch. She couldn’t make any difference over at the meeting, could she? And if she spoke up for Zachary, what would the town think? What would Zachary think?

  Jumping to her feet, she tucked in her blouse and headed across the porch. Why should she care what anyone thought? She wanted to save Grace’s home as much as Boompah did. And if she didn’t speak out, it might go under the wrecking ball in a matter of days.

  Jogging across the street, she tried to calm her heart. She didn’t need to pick up Nick from Montgomery’s house for at least another half hour. She could slip into the back of the council room and listen to the proceedings. Maybe no one would notice her.

  “Now a lot of you know,” Phil Fox was saying as Elizabeth opened the door to the basement chambers, “that Ambleside lost a prominent citizen this spring when Grace Chalmers passed away.”

  An overworked air conditioner pushed the dank smell of rusted pipes into the crowded room as Elizabeth took a chair in the back row near the wall. The council had cancelled its meeting in June due to Ellie’s death. Somehow no one in the close-knit community—except maybe Phil Fox—had felt like going ahead with business as usual. And besides, city business in a town as small as Ambleside was rarely a pressing matter. But looking around at the crowd gathered for tonight’s meeting, Elizabeth wondered about that.

  The room was filled to capacity with townspeople, and all of the city councillors were present. She scanned the fluorescent-lit hall with its ceiling of white plastic tiles and its rows of gray folding chairs. Near the front of the room, Zachary Chalmers leaned forward in his chair, his broad shoulders outlined by the crisp tailoring of his dark suit.

  “There’s been a lot of talk and speculation as to what ought to be done with Grace’s mansion,” Phil was saying. “Most folks know Chalmers House has been a part of the history of Ambleside since its founding. But there’s not a soul who’d deny that the mansion has fallen on hard times. From the outside, a person can see how the ivy’s taken over the walls, a good many of the windows are cracked, and the chimneys are missing some bricks.”

  He pulled a pair of half-moon spectacles from his shirt pocket and set them on the end of his nose. “Now I’ve got here an official inspection report that says the heating system is dangerous, the roof leaks, the lower floor’s got termites real bad, the stairs are so worn that a body could twist an ankle or maybe even fall right through. The renovation of that building is going to cost a pretty penny, and I’d like to know who’s willing to go to such an expense for an old eyesore like that?”

  “Eyesore?” Boompah came to his feet, his fist raised. “The building is beautiful.”

  “Mr. Jungemeyer, I appreciate your comment, but the floor is not yet open for discussion,” Phil said.

  “And I am not the floor! I am a citizen of the United States of America, and I have the right to give my own opinion.”

  “In a minute, Jacob,” the town’s mayor, Cleo Mueller, spoke up. “Let Phil have his say, and then you’ll get your turn.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mayor.” Phil adjusted his spectacles. “Now, in her last will and testament, Grace Chalmers left the mansion to her nephew, Zachary Chalmers. Over the past few weeks, I have spoken at length with Mr. Chalmers, and I believe him to be a fine young man and an outstanding architect. On a number of occasions, Mr. Chalmers and I have discussed the future of the mansion as well as the future of Ambleside itself. Isn’t that right, Mr. Chalmers?”

  From his chair, Zachary nodded. Elizabeth wondered how he was feeling. Was Phil boxing him into a trap? Or was Zachary a co-player in this unfolding drama?

  “From the day he moved to Ambleside, Mr. Chalmers has made no secret of his desire to raze Chalmers House,” Phil stated. A murmur rippled through the crowd, and heads turned in Zachary’s direction. “He would like to build offices for his architectural firm on that land. And in a move that could only be beneficial to the city of Ambleside, he plans to rent offices within the complex to other businessmen—most of them from Jefferson City.”

  “How do you know the plans of Zachary Chalmers?” Boompah demanded, again rising from his seat. “He has told you these things? Or you have searched his office and listened to his telephone?”

  “I have done nothing of the sort!” Phil retorted.

  “Now, Jacob,” Cleo Mueller put in. “You’ve got to stay quiet until Phil gets to the point here. And we’re all hoping that will be soon.”

  To a roomful of laughter, the druggist sat down. So did Boompah. Elizabeth knew the two elderly men were longtime friends, each regularly patronizing the other’s place of business.

  “All right, I’ll get to the point,” Phil said. He held up two sheets of paper. “I’ve got copies here of a couple of important documents, each one plainly stating that the mansion needs to stand. One of them is a letter from Grace Chalmers, and the other is the town charter of Ambleside, Missouri. I’d like to submit them as exhibits one and two.”

  “Phil, this isn’t a court of law,” the mayor said. “And nobody’s on trial here.”

  “All the same, I’ve met with a Jeff City lawyer.” Heads turned to stare at John Sawyer as Phil went on speaking. “You folks ought to know that these two documents hold a lot of water. The both of them together make a compelling argument against Zachary Chalmers’s tearing down our landmark. In fact, we want to go on record here asking Mr. Chalmers to refrain from demolishing Chalmers House so that we don’t have to bring legal action against him.”

  “Who’s we, Phil?” Sawyer-the-lawyer stood up. “You got a dead rat in your pocket?”

  Amid the chuckles, Boompah rose again. “He’s right! The rats are taking over the Rathaus!”

  “Now calm down, everybody,” Cleo Mueller said. “Let Phil finish, and then we’ll open the floor. You’ll all get to have your say.” The mayor started to sit; then he straightened and focused on Phil. “Get to your point, Mr. Fox, would you? My ice-cream maker’s just about finished churning, and my wife put fresh peaches in this batch.”

  Phil gave his fellow councilman a look of scorn. “The point is, folks, that we don’t want Zachary Chalmers to tear down the mansion. But we doubt that he has the wherewithal or the desire to refurbish it. So we’ve come up with a plan to solve the whole problem.”

  Carrying an easel, he walked around to the front of the council’s table. “My fellow citizens of Ambleside,” he intoned, “what we have here with us tonight is a bona fide treasure. And I’m not just talking about Chalmers House. I’m talking about Zachary Chalmers himself.”

  With a flourish, he set a portfolio of enlarged photographs on the easel. “Mr. Chalmers i
s responsible for some of the finest new buildings in mid-Missouri. And I’m going to show you what I’m talking about. Look here at this well-known state agency headquarters in Jefferson City. That’s Zachary Chalmers’s design. How about these doctors’ offices—recognize them? Sure you do. Here’s a restaurant and a beauty salon. And here’s his award-winning church!”

  He propped a picture of the ugly church onto the easel. Elizabeth squinted at it, hoping it might look better than she remembered. It didn’t. Zachary shifted in his chair and turned to scan the room. His eye fell on her, but his face registered nothing.

  “Now here’s my proposal,” Phil said.

  “’Bout time!” someone hollered.

  Phil gave the man a scowl. “If ya’ll can’t act right while we do city business, why don’t you stay home?”

  “We got a right to be here, same as you.”

  Phil started to reply, but then he took off his glasses, folded them, and slipped them back into his shirt pocket. “Since we’ve got proof that the house ought to remain standing and we’re confident Mr. Chalmers isn’t planning to restore it, I’d like to make a proposal. I hereby propose that we offer Mr. Chalmers Lots 54 and 55 in the new McCann Estates subdivision, which the city would purchase at a cost of forty thousand dollars. Then he can build his offices there exactly the way he wants. In exchange, Zachary would agree to sign over Chalmers House and the lot it sits on to the city of Ambleside. The city would then restore and preserve a small portion of the mansion as a historical marker in accordance with the desires of its previous owners. The city would use the remainder of the land to address a critical need—parking.”

  At his final word, the room erupted in a buzz of conversation. Elizabeth clutched her hands together, trying to keep from speaking out. It wasn’t her business. The mansion had been Grace’s house, was now Zachary’s, and had nothing to do with her. She needed to pick up Nick. Needed to put a load of laundry in the washer. Needed to defrost some ground beef.

  “How small a portion?” she heard herself say as she leapt to her feet. “What part of Chalmers House does Mr. Fox intend to leave in place? Are we talking about the front of the mansion, the first floor, the porch, or just a brick?”

  “And that subdivision you’re talking about, Phil, is zoned for residential use only,” John Sawyer declared, rising from his chair. “You can’t put an office complex out there without changing the zoning to commercial or mixed use.”

  “I agree with Phil,” someone else called. “We do need parking on the square. It’s a mess out there.”

  “Folks keep on parking at my gas station!” Al Huff added, coming to his feet. “Some days I can barely tend to my own customers.”

  “Let Mr. Fox tear down his barbershop!” Boompah roared. “Most of us have lost our hair anyway, and who rides the bus these days?”

  “You leave my business alone, old man,” Phil shouted. “Your days at the Corner Market are numbered anyhow!”

  “Hey, everybody!” Mayor Mueller stood and banged his gavel on the old steel folding table. “Hold on, now. You folks are all out of order. I can see we’ve got a lot to consider here. But right now, my ice cream’s melting, and I think this meeting’s gone on long enough. I move we table any discussion on the future of Chalmers House until the August meeting of the Ambleside City Council.”

  “Second,” another councilman put in quickly.

  “All in favor, say aye. All opposed, none. Any other new business? Well, then, that’s all for tonight, folks. Anybody who wants to try Ethel’s peach ice cream can come over to our place. But talk of the mansion’s off-limits.” He gave the table a final whack with his gavel, and headed for the door.

  Elizabeth glanced at her watch and realized that Luke Easton would be wondering where she was. She would have to hurry if she hoped to beat the crowd out the door. Sidling through the throng, she edged out into the gloomy hallway of the basement and started for the staircase. As she reached the ground floor, a hand caught her arm.

  “Elizabeth?”

  She swung around to find Zachary Chalmers at her elbow. His green eyes were intense. “Can we have a few minutes alone?”

  FIFTEEN

  “Alone?”

  The look in Elizabeth’s eyes spoke volumes. Zachary knew their last conversation had changed things between them. Acting on his desires and his past experiences rather than behaving like a man surrendered, he had driven her away. For a few days he had felt justified, until the solitude and emptiness took over. Maybe he could patch things up. Or at least take a step in the right direction.

  “I have to go get Nick,” Elizabeth said, glancing out the door as the crowd began to push around them toward the exit. “He’s over at Luke’s house.”

  “Luke Easton?” Zachary felt a twinge of queasiness. He knew Elizabeth and Nick had been spending time with the Eastons since Ellie’s death. Now he wondered if the relationship between Elizabeth and Luke had gone beyond friendship. Luke was grieving, after all, and Elizabeth was a desirable woman. Through the years, their children had become best friends. All in all, it wasn’t that unlikely.

  “Excuse me,” she said and started for the door.

  “Wait.” He caught her arm again. “Will you be over at Luke’s house a long time?”

  “No, I need to get Nick to bed, and I have to do some laundry …”

  “Then I’ll wait for you.”

  “Zachary, I respect your architectural skills, and I know you want to build your offices across the street. But I’m not going to sit still and watch Phil pull off this con.”

  He stared at her. “You’re talking about the mansion.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  She looked down. “Oh. Well, I’m not sure … not sure we have anything else to discuss. I’m sorry I was so blunt with you the other night, but I—”

  “I’m not sorry. I needed to hear it.”

  “I could have been a little more subtle.”

  “I’m the kind of man who sometimes needs to be hit over the head with a two-by-four.”

  She struggled to hold back a grin. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”

  “Would you go as far as your porch swing with me?”

  Drinking down a deep breath, she met his eyes. “Zachary, I’ve really got to get Nick and put him to bed.”

  “And then there’s that laundry.”

  She took a step toward the door. “OK, you can wait for me on the porch.”

  Before he could respond, she fled. As the last of the crowd filtered out of the building, Zachary spotted Phil Fox heading up the stairs toward him. That was enough motivation to propel him out the door and onto the sidewalk.

  “Hey, we don’t need any new offices in Ambleside, Zachary Chalmers,” someone called out to him. “We want to keep our mansion!”

  “I go see my doctor in that professional building you designed in Jeff City, Mr. Chalmers,” an elderly lady said, touching his elbow. “I like it real good. The elevators are nice and smooth.”

  “We need a parking lot!” Al Huff said. “You and Phil have got the right idea. Keep it up.”

  “I thought that church in Jefferson City was just plain ugly,” someone else called. “You better not put up nothin’ that ugly here in Ambleside; I don’t care how many awards you win.”

  Zachary jogged across the street and down the side of the Finders Keepers building to the back portion where Elizabeth made her home. As he cut across the grass, he studied the unlit silhouette of the mansion next door. All this hullabaloo over an old house. And yet, it was his heritage, his possession, his future.

  On the porch he dropped down onto the swing to wait for Elizabeth. So, he had managed to alienate not only the owner of the local antiques shop but half the town of Ambleside as well. The fate of the old mansion had divided the populace and made him look like either a villain or a hero.

  And for what? Did he really even want to live here any longer? Why should he concern himself wit
h the feelings of a group of small-town folks? He didn’t owe Elizabeth anything. He hadn’t put down any roots here. Didn’t own a house. Had no clientele. So what kept him here? He could pack up tomorrow and go back to Jefferson City. No doubt, his former landlord would take him back. His friends would be glad to see him again … those few who had even noticed that he’d gone.

  Friends? Did he really have friends in Jefferson City?

  Women? He couldn’t think of anyone he would care to date.

  Family? He’d severed ties and then lost track of his parents and siblings years ago. No one else had stepped into his soul the way Boompah, Nick, and Montgomery had. Certainly no one had touched him like Elizabeth Hayes did.

  He lifted his feet from the porch floor and tried to swing back and forth the way he’d watched Nick do. Funny little kid. Odd, the way the child had managed to wrap himself around Zachary’s heart. Glancing across the porch, he noted the roller skates, the cluster of plastic toy soldiers, the sketch pad and broken crayons.

  How could Zachary drive away from all this? Yet how could he stay?

  He spotted the old Bible that had belonged to his aunt. It was lying on the small table near the swing; evidently Elizabeth had been reading it. She had left the book open to a passage in the Psalms. He remembered that Nick had insisted that the Bible was the place to turn when you were searching for something.

  Seek and you shall find.

  Reaching out, Zachary lifted the worn leather book and set it in his lap. He didn’t even know what he was searching for. Answers, perhaps. Directions. Connections.

  He opened the cover and scanned the tiny notes his aunt had written all over the Bible’s title pages. Certainly she had searched throughout this book for answers to the questions in her own life. Flipping through the pages, he watched the faded gold edges flicker and glow in the porch light. In a passage of the first epistle to the Corinthians, he discovered an old pressed flower—a rose, he guessed—though it was brown and crumbly. Then he turned to the central section where the family tree had been printed in a flourish of black script.