Breaking Ground

by William Andrews

  “What does your wife do?”

  “She owns a mortgage company. That’s how we met—I’m a broker, and when she was getting started she had a party for people in the business to introduce herself. She’s very good at her job, and I still recommend her to my clients, but of course I tell them we’re married, even though the business is entirely hers.”

  “Of course,” was all Julie could say.

  “Mom would have been a great businesswoman herself, you know, so maybe not having the chance to do something on her own grated her. Well, I should go talk to some others. Thanks for coming, Julie. I know Mom liked you very much. By the way, Henry LaBelle has all the papers ready for me to sign, the petition to the court, so as soon as the land sale closes he’ll file them. He said it might take a couple of weeks, but you should get that money pretty soon.”

  Before Julie could thank him, Steven walked away and joined a group of old women standing by the window. Of course I should thank him, Julie said to herself, but the way he puts it, it sounds like I’m getting the money. And after all, it was what Mary Ellen had wanted. How grateful was she supposed to be?

  CHAPTER 22

  Post-funeral receptions were not at the top of the list of social events that Julie felt knowledgeable about, but as she looked around the crowd in the Swanson great room she realized she would soon need to overcome that deficiency. Given the average age—somewhere north of seventy, she guessed—and the fact that so many of the people in the room were connected with the Ryland Historical Society as trustees, volunteers, or members, she imagined a string of post-funeral receptions in her future. One of the things she would have to learn was when to leave. Without a program, or cues from the host, it was hard to know. She decided to follow the crowd, making for the door when others did, but so far there was no sign a mass movement was about to commence. Maybe it was the food, both very good and very abundant, that held them. Certainly Julie was not alone in making lunch, a rather full lunch, out of the provisions heaped on the table and being passed by young men and women in white jackets.

  “Pretty good spread,” Henry said to Julie as the two of them stood over the food table trying to decide what to add to their plates. “Mary Ellen would have approved—nothing but the best.”

  “I’m amazed how many times people have said things like that today,” Julie said. “About how Mary Ellen would have been pleased.”

  “Sorry. I guess it’s one of those time-worn clichés you revert to at a time like this,” the lawyer answered soberly.

  “I wasn’t criticizing,” Julie quickly assured him. “Just an observation. I’m pretty new to this kind of thing.”

  “Funerals and receptions?”

  “Right.”

  “Get used to it, Julie. Your job is sort of like mine—courting the elderly. Eventually it ends up like this.” He gestured around the room. “But it’s better to have a nice send-off than a bad one, or none at all. And that’s something Mary Ellen would definitely agree with.”

  “I’m sure she would.”

  “And speaking of that,” LaBelle said quietly, as he added some small quiches and a couple of bacon-wrapped scallops to his plate and then indicated to Julie they should move to a more private spot, “the closing is this afternoon at four. Steven is going to sign the petition to the probate court, and I’ll present it tomorrow. I’ve already talked to the judge, and I don’t see a problem. I think he’ll release the funds in a couple of weeks at the latest.”

  “You really think it’ll be so fast?”

  “There are plenty of assets in the estate, and the pledge is just about the only debt to satisfy, certainly the only big one, so I don’t see a problem. Judge Childerson is a life member of the Ryland Historical Society, by the way. He understands. Has Steven mentioned anything more about renaming the building?”

  “No more than he said at the funeral. You think that’s what he meant?”

  “Probably. I can ask him if you like. I’m sure the board would go along with calling it the Daniel and Mary Ellen Swanson Center. Why not?”

  “Mary Ellen would really like that,” Julie said before she caught herself.

  Henry grinned. “Far be it from me to say a word. Fact is, you’re right. I suppose we should have thought of that before Steven raised it.”

  “I guess I should have.”

  “You’ve got plenty to think about. We trustees need to take some responsibility. But no harm done. We can consider it at the next meeting. I’ll suggest it to Howard, though I’m sure he’s already thinking about it. What did Elizabeth have to say? I saw you talking to her earlier.”

  “She said she didn’t care what Steven did with the money, as if it were a gift from him instead of Mary Ellen’s pledge.”

  “Doesn’t care about the money? That would be a surprise.”

  “But Steven said she owns a mortgage company. He gave me the impression that she does quite well.”

  “She does indeed. Very successful, from what I hear. But did you ever hear of anyone having too much money, Julie?”

  Before she could answer, Frank Nilsson, who had moved in behind them in their corner, did. “No one I know has that problem,” Frank said heartily. “Hello, Julie. Let me introduce my wife, Patty.”

  A woman who could only be described as frumpy in a loose black dress smiled and reached out her hand to shake Julie’s. “Frank’s told me about you, Dr. Williamson,” she said. “Welcome to Ryland. I’m afraid I’m a little late in that since I know you’ve been around awhile. I’ve been meaning to come by and meet you, but you know how the time just flies.”

  “Julie, please. And I’d love to have you come in to the society. I gather your family’s been in Ryland for a long time. I’m sure we have lots of artifacts and papers about them.”

  “Not as many as you will when Patty gets around to her dad’s stuff,” Frank said. “She’s got boxes of his things. I’ll bet there’s lots of important stuff relating to Ryland. You ought to get going on that, Patty. I’m sure Julie would be glad to look it over and see what might be valuable to the society.”

  “That would be great,” Julie said. “Any time at all.”

  “Can’t be too soon,” Frank said as much to his wife as to Julie. “We’re paying to store all those boxes, you know. Might as well get the good stuff to the historical society where it can be useful.”

  Patty laughed, seemingly oblivious to—or purposely ignoring, Julie thought—her husband’s stern and even condescending tone. “I know, there are lots of letters and papers,” she said. “I should make that my summer job, going through the boxes. If Frank would be so good as to fetch them back to the house, of course.”

  “Anytime you like, sweetheart,” Frank said. “Except right now.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost two, and we’ve got the closing at four, right, counselor?” He looked over at Henry, who had moved off to the side while Julie talked with the Nilssons.

  “That’s right,” the attorney said. “But I’ve got the paperwork ready, so there’s no rush.”

  “Well, I don’t have everything in order. Luke and I need to meet our lawyer and finish things up, so I’d better head along. You want a ride, Patty?”

  “I’m sure I can catch one with someone,” she answered. “Go ahead.”

  “I’ll just find Luke; anyone seen him? I’ll probably have to pull him away from the food.”

  “Over there,” Julie said, and gestured toward the window where Luke was standing alone without even a plate or glass in his hand.

  “Excuse me, then,” Frank said. “See you at four, Henry.”

  When Frank and Luke left, it had the effect on the crowd of a ringing school bell. People shuffled to the buffet table to return used plates, said their thanks and condolences to Steven, and then formed a steady line down the entrance hall and out of the house.

  “It’s like we were all just waiting for permission,” Julie whispered to Dalton, who was behind her in the line. Nickie had to get back to her
shop, so Dalton offered to drop her off at her office.

  “I didn’t see Elizabeth,” Dalton said as Julie was fastening the seat belt on the passenger side of his Volvo. “Did she come back after the funeral?”

  “Yes; I talked to her, in fact. But she sort of disappeared after that.”

  “No love lost there.”

  “I guess not,” Julie said. “I didn’t know she ran such a successful business.”

  “Meaning she didn’t have a motive to kill her mother-in-law?”

  Julie laughed. “I guess most daughters-in-law think they do. All I meant was that she’s apparently well off on her own. She told me she really doesn’t care what Steven does with his mother’s money.”

  “And you believed her?” Dalton asked as he pulled out of the driveway and turned left down Grander Hill Road.

  Julie paused, and Dalton glanced over to see if she had heard his question. “Yeah, I did,” she finally responded. “But, still, that doesn’t mean she didn’t have anything to do with Mary Ellen’s death. It’s all so complicated. I promised Rich and Mike I wasn’t going to keep thinking about this, by the way.”

  “So why are you?”

  “Because I’m involved, Dalton. And the historical society is involved. And it’s just such a big puzzle. Who would do such a thing?”

  He pulled up in front of Swanson House, and Julie thanked him for the lift. “See you Wednesday,” she said as she opened her door.

  “Wednesday? Oh right, the building committee. It would be nice if we could go ahead and authorize the next phase at that meeting. But we can’t do that until we know about the $500,000 from Mary Ellen.”

  “I’ll check with Henry tomorrow to make sure the closing went through today, and that the judge will let us have the money soon,” Julie replied. “It would be nice if at least one part of all this got settled.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Julie had intended to spend Monday afternoon in the archives to see if the Swanson papers Luke Dyer had been looking at offered any clue to his interest. But catching up on paperwork at her desk consumed the afternoon, and when she had finished it was six o’clock already. So she had gone home instead, vowing to get in early on Tuesday to begin her search. Alone, the night seemed long, and she slept poorly, waking at least three times that she could remember to assure herself the house was empty and the sounds she heard were from outside. A long run at dawn helped, and when she reached her office at 7:30 she felt refreshed and eager to start on the Swanson papers before Tabby arrived.

  Opening the vault to retrieve them revived unpleasant memories—distant ones about her fear of being locked in the bank vault when as a child she had accompanied her father to put items in his safe box, and more recent ones about being briefly but mysteriously locked in this very vault last year. While she didn’t consider herself particularly courageous or tough, Julie resented the weakness her claustrophobia represented. Small, tight, dark spaces scared her. No, more than that—they caused her to panic. And that’s what bothered her: losing control.

  She took a deep breath, assured herself there was no danger, and used the two keys to open the door and then swiftly stepped inside. Just as swiftly, she retrieved the Swanson box and carried it to the large worktable in the center of the room, placed her yellow pad at her side, and began extracting papers from the box.

  By 8:30 Julie had filled four pages with penciled notes, mostly questions she needed to answer to understand the people referenced in the letters. By beginning with the items on top, she assumed she was following Luke’s trail through the papers. His interest was now obvious: Birch Brook. Although the letters referred sometimes to “the river property” and sometimes to “the brook land,” Julie was sure from the context that the subject was the 430-acre parcel of land on Birch Brook. Now this is getting interesting, she said to herself.

  She jumped at the sound of Tabby’s voice.

  “Oh, it’s you, Dr. Williamson!” Tabby exclaimed. She was standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs. “I couldn’t think of who would be here at this hour of the morning!”

  “Sorry to startle you,” Julie said, despite the fact that she was startled, too. “I came in early to look at these papers, and I guess I lost track of the time.”

  “I’m early,” Tabby said. “I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

  Julie decided she had to bring this round of apologies to an end. “I’m glad you’re here because I’d like to make copies of some of these. Do you think they’re too fragile?”

  Tabby put her oversize purse on her desk and came to the worktable to look at the papers Julie had put in a separate pile. “I don’t see any problem. These are fine. Do you want me to copy them for you?”

  “Please. But there’s no hurry. I should get to work downstairs. Should I just put this box back in the vault?” Julie turned to look at the open door of the vault, hoping Tabby would agree to do the task herself.

  “Why don’t you just leave the box here on the table, and after I’ve made the copies I’ll put the originals back in and return everything to the vault at the same time.”

  “That’s great,” Julie said with genuine relief. “I’ll pick up the copies later.”

  “I’ll bring them down.”

  Julie could hear voices in the outer office when she reached the bottom of the stairs from the library. Mrs. Detweiller and Henry LaBelle were standing by the secretary’s desk.

  “Her door’s open, so I assume she’s around somewhere,” Mrs. Detweiller said.

  “I’ll wait a bit and see if she turns up,” Henry said.

  “And here she is,” Julie said as she entered the office. “I was upstairs in the library.”

  “She’s early,” the secretary said in her customary accusing tone.

  “Do you have a few minutes?” Henry asked in Julie’s direction. “We can do it later if you like.”

  “This is a good time,” Julie said. “I was going to call you this morning anyway.”

  “Ah, great minds! I just wanted you to know the closing went fine yesterday,” he said as they entered her office. “The money’s in the estate account, and I’ve got an appointment with Judge Childerson at eleven this morning to formally present Steven’s petition. I’ll give you a ring when I get a reading from him, but I wanted you to know everything’s moving along. Dalton told me the building committee’s meeting tomorrow and he’s anxious to get the next phase authorized.”

  “We all are. But I have another question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “About Birch Brook. I’ve been looking through some of the Swanson family papers that Mary Ellen donated. It looks like that property had a funny history. I just wondered if you know about that.”

  “Welcome to New England!” Henry said. “Real estate is our major industry, and every piece of land has a ‘funny history.’ I know all about the Birch Brook parcel since I just handled the closing. We researched the title back to the Abenaki, or so it seemed. What did you want to know?”

  “It looks to me like the Swansons and the Dyers sort of traded that land back and forth.”

  “That’s one way of putting it. Herbert Swanson—that would be Mary Ellen’s husband’s grandfather—owned an adjoining parcel farther west along the river, and Luke’s great-grandfather—Leonard, if I’m remembering right—had an adjoining parcel east of there. So they had a dispute about the land in between—what became the Birch Brook property. That was in the 1890s. They went to court over it, and Swanson won, based on some sort of survey.”

  “But I heard that Luke was mad about having to buy the land from Mary Ellen because his father had owned it.”

  “That’s right. It changed hands in the Depression. Old Dan was pretty stressed financially, like a lot of folks around here who were land-rich but otherwise poor.”

  “I’m reading some stuff on that,” Julie said. “We got all these papers from a Dr. Tabor, who practiced here then, and I thought it would be interesting to see what the Depressio
n was like in a small town like Ryland.”

  “Not very pretty, I’ll bet.”

  “Well, I’m just getting started,” she said sheepishly, thinking of how little she had actually accomplished—and seeing on her desk the green folder that Tabby had given her with some additional Tabor letters. “But I’m sure things were tough.”

  “Probably why Old Dan sold the land to the Dyers then. But then Paul—that’s Luke’s dad—sold it back to Dan—Mary Ellen’s husband—in 1997. That’s why Luke’s mad. If his dad had kept it in the family, Luke wouldn’t have had to join up with Frank to buy it yesterday so they can do the condo development.”

  “Why did Paul Dyer sell it?”

  “I have no idea. I came to Ryland that year, but I didn’t represent the Swansons until two years later, when their old attorney died. Maybe that’s in the Swanson letters you mentioned.”

  “You think Luke didn’t know, and is trying to find out now?”

  “Hard to say. Maybe you should just ask him.”

  “Or find out by reading the rest of the papers,” Julie mused. “I was having trouble sorting it all out. Hold on a second.”

  Julie quickly jotted notes on a yellow pad and then placed it in front of the attorney.

  1890s: Herbert Swanson (Dan’s grandfather) owned land west along river; Leonard Dyer (Luke’s great-grandfather) owned land east along river; current Birch Brook parcel was between and disputed; they went to court, Swanson got Birch Brook.

  Depression: Old Dan Swanson (Dan’s father) sold Birch Brook to Paul Dyer (Luke’s father).

  1997: Paul Dyer sold it back to Dan Swanson for $700,000.

  This year: Frank Nilsson and Luke Dyer buy from Mary Ellen Swanson for $2.5M.

  “That looks right to me,” LaBelle said. “But why is this important?”

  Before Julie could respond, there was a knock at the door. “It’s for you, Mr. LaBelle,” Mrs. Detweiller said when Julie opened the door. “Mr. Swanson’s calling. He said he tried you at your office and they said you were here. He says it’s urgent.”