The Sounds of Home

by Greenwood Muir, Diane

  "Now that most of the ears are gone," Agnes said. "What is going on with this house next door? On again, off again. Are they having trouble with money or what? That's usually what stalls construction, isn't it?"

  Henry glanced at Polly, then Simon, and pursed his lips. "I don't have the details. We just do whatever we can to accommodate the customer."

  "I heard that the husband is a gambler and she's had to bail him out. If I had a gambler for a husband, I'd divorce his hiney and kick him to the curb."

  "Where do you hear this stuff, Agnes?" Polly asked. "Do you have the town bugged?"

  Agnes waggled her eyebrows before bending over to pick one of Cassidy's dolls up from the floor. "I'll never tell, but don't forget, people ignore old folks. They think we're all hard of hearing or something."

  Simon tried to wipe away the look of concern on his face. "I do hear the most interesting stories in the shop. You are correct, Mrs. Hill. Folks talk to each other as if no one is listening."

  "At least in real life, it's usually only one or two people that overhear. Kids these days post their entire lives online and then wonder why their privacy is nonexistent. They gave it up. If you don't want the Russians to know what color your panties are, don't post pictures of yourself half naked in front of your bathroom mirror."

  Cat shook her head and laughed. "I hate to leave this exciting conversation, but I have papers to grade. Hayden, you can certainly stay. I'll be busy for a while."

  He stood with his wife. "If you'll excuse us. It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Hill. Mr. Gardner, it's always nice to see you. I'm going to clean up more of the kitchen before I go upstairs."

  "They are good kids," Simon said after he was gone. "I am so thankful you gave those boys a good home. I knew their parents, you know. Not as friends, but they came into the shop often enough that I felt comfortable with them. Though that was back when the boys were quite young. Their death was such a tragedy. Where is the younger boy this evening? Heath?"

  "He’s out with his little girlfriend," Agnes said. "Once school started, they disappeared."

  "They both have a heavy load this fall," Polly interjected.

  "Do I know his girlfriend?" Simon asked.

  Henry sat forward. "He's dating Ella Evans, Marnie and Dave's daughter."

  "She is such a sweetheart." Simon nodded and smiled. "But then, I have a small crush on her mother. Whenever I have a question about my cat, Crystal, Mrs. Evans makes it easy for me to ask. She never makes me feel as if I am overprotective."

  "Your Crystal sounds like a spoiled cat," Agnes said. "But that's no different than the menagerie in this household."

  "Your Hannibal is just as spoiled." Polly sat back. "Spoiled rotten."

  Agnes shrugged. "It was only a comment, not an accusation." She patted Cassidy's back. "Let's take your little dolls out to the dollhouse before I land myself in a world of trouble. I think the ice cream loosened my tongue. Good thing they weren't serving wine tonight." As she walked past Simon, she touched his shoulder. "It was nice seeing you again. Don't mind me, I fuss with all of my friends."

  "I should be going, too," Simon said. "Thank you for a lovely dinner. It was a joy to be part of your family for an evening."

  "Sometimes I get so caught up in my own world, I forget to extend the invitation," Polly said. "I would love to have you join us more often, if that's okay with you. As long as I put a reminder in my calendar, I will be better about asking."

  "You mustn't concern yourself with me. I needed a bit of family today. I'm more concerned about Sam than I have let on."

  "What’s going on with him?" Henry asked.

  "We aren't sure. He's seeing a doctor in Rochester on Thursday. They have him scheduled for quite a few tests. Jean is worried, too. I can tell when I don't hear from her during the day and I haven't heard from her for several days."

  Henry turned to Polly. "Did Eliseo say anything?"

  "He wouldn't," she said. "I'll ask him tomorrow and then I'll call Jean. Do they have someone to watch their dog?" Jean and Sam Gardner had an old basset hound named Sebastian.

  Simon shook his head. "I didn't think to ask that. Sebastian and I have an understanding. He doesn't particularly care for me and I leave him alone. He's learned a lot about being grumpy from Sam."

  The two men, though they were brothers, couldn't be more different. As open and kind as Simon was, Sam Gardner was a cynical old grump. He had a good heart, but he'd gotten set in his ways years ago and no one was going to budge him.

  The dogs rushed out of the dining room.

  "Rebecca's home," Polly said.

  "Where is everyone?" Rebecca called. "And why is the house so clean?"

  Polly laughed. "Little brat. She didn't need to call me out on that." She stood and stepped into the kitchen. "We're in here with Mr. Gardner. The kids and Agnes are in the foyer. How was your day?"

  Rebecca dropped her backpack and her flute case on stools in front of the island and came on into the dining room. She put her hand out when Simon stood up. "How are you?" she asked.

  "I'm quite fine," he said. "Did you have a good day?"

  "It was the best. I got the solo in choir and Andrew's speech is going to be entered in a competition. It was really great. Andrew asked me to go to Homecoming with him and I think Barrett is going to ask Kayla. Cilla has her choice of boys if she doesn't scare them off. She's so pretty. Polly, can we go shopping for a new dress for the dance?"

  "Of course, but what about that pretty dress you bought when you were out west with Beryl?"

  Rebecca thought about it. "That's better for winter, not fall. If you don't want me to buy something new, I'll figure it out."

  Polly smiled and shook her head. "We'll talk later. I'm glad you had a good day. Did you finish your homework?"

  "I have something to write for lit class, but it's easy. I'm starving. What did you have for supper?"

  "Lasagna."

  "No way. That's awesome."

  "I should go," Simon said again. "Thank you so much for this evening. It was a breath of fresh air. When you want to work on your attic, I'll be glad to assist."

  "Oh yes, Henry," Polly said. "There are three chairs in the wing above Rebecca's room that need to be taken up to Simon's shop. He has a buyer for them. And by the way, the rooms above Cat and Hayden's apartment? Why didn't you tell me what was in there?"

  Henry cackled. "I wanted you to see it for yourself."

  "Well, I'm not looking. I want it taken out and burned. If you think something is worth saving, you and Simon can work that out, but I want nothing to do with that."

  "I'll take care of it, dear."

  CHAPTER SIX

  "Polly, have you had a chance to look at my ideas for renovations?" Jeff asked as he dropped into a chair in front of her desk.

  "Didn't you just give those to me yesterday morning?"

  He shrugged. "Yeah? So? I figured by now you'd have blueprints already drawn up."

  "You're funny. I had a busy day yesterday."

  "Where did you go?"

  "Back to the Bell House with Simon Gardner. He wanted to look at some antiques in my attic." She blew out a frustrated breath. "Jeff, I haven't been up there in forever. It's a huge mess."

  "Hire someone to haul it away."

  "And do what with it? If there are pieces from Bellingwood's history, items that Simon can sell, or things that could be used, I don't want those in the dump."

  "Rent a storage unit, move everything there, and give keys to all the people you want to look at the stuff. Then it's out of your house and you can renovate the attic however you and Henry want."

  She sat back and looked at him. "Sometimes you're a genius."

  "All the time," he said. "Remember that. Top-notch genius, at your service."

  "I’ve been feeling guilty for not dealing with any of that junk and the last thing I want is to add more furniture to my house. Cat and Hayden might want some, but they can look at it and let us know. Simon found
three chairs up there he can sell for up to three hundred dollars apiece."

  Jeff blinked. "Is there more up there that's worth that kind of money?"

  "Probably."

  "What are you going to do if you end up making tens of thousands of dollars from your dusty antiques?"

  She puffed a laugh. "That won't happen, but there's no reason not to turn any money that is earned into something good. Maybe for the new playground at the elementary school."

  "You don't want it? You're weird."

  "It isn't money I ever thought to have. We'll have to see."

  "You're still weird."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, what are you up to this morning and why are you bothering me?"

  "I had a phone call last night from my realtor."

  Polly knew Jeff and Adam were looking to buy property in town. They hadn't made any decisions yet. "Okay?"

  "The old newspaper building up town?"

  "Yeah. Didn't the Andersons buy that last year?"

  He nodded. "And now they're selling it. At a really stupid price."

  "Are you thinking about it?"

  "Adam and I talked for hours last night. It's exactly what we're looking for in terms of the building."

  "What are you thinking of doing with the main floor?"

  "That's the thing. Would you like to own or manage Bellingwood's newspaper?"

  Polly laughed out loud. "Me? Are you kidding?"

  He shrugged. "It's not the craziest thing you've done."

  "Why don't you run it, then?"

  Jeff sat back, crossed his legs and then his arms. "Here's the deal. I want to live in Bellingwood. I want to be part of the community and I want to make your businesses successful, but I don't want to own a business."

  She nodded, trying to decide what to make of that. "And Adam?"

  "He already owns the sign business with his dad and that takes up a huge amount of his time. His life is there, not in a small-town newspaper."

  "Sycamore Times," Polly said with a grin. "That sounds interesting. I don't know anything about running a newspaper. Literally. Nothing."

  "What did you know about running a hotel or a B&B or a catering business or a bakery?"

  "I knew good people?" she said, knowing it was exactly the answer he was looking for.

  "We find the right person to run the business and bring them on board."

  "Timing stinks," Polly said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Cat was a journalism major until last year when she decided to teach elementary school. If this had come up a year ago, I could have talked her into running my newspaper."

  "She'd have been good, but there has to be someone else who would want to run a small town paper. The thing is, if I buy that building, I don't have to be in a huge hurry to put the deal together for the newspaper. It can wait."

  Polly waved her hand around the room. "I am back on site for two weeks and so far, you've hit me up for renovations and now you want me to buy a newspaper. Take a breath, Jeff. You're going to kill me. Let me talk to Henry. Are you sure that's what you want to have going on below your apartment? You could put any other kind of business in there. Bellingwood has lived without a newspaper for a couple of years now; it isn't like people are desperate for local news beyond what they get out of Boone."

  "The thing is, someone is going to put a newspaper in this town one of these days. Wouldn't you rather that it was yours?"

  She smiled. "I was worried when an outsider bought it up. Not that they wouldn't do a good job, but unless you live here and understand the ins and outs of the community …" Polly shook her head. "Oh, let me be honest. I was mostly afraid they'd catch a hint of my antics with dead bodies and try to make it a big news thing and that would threaten my family and friends. When you asked if I wanted to own the paper, my first thought was that at least that way I could control how people interpreted what I do."

  "Oh, you mean, propaganda? Or maybe censorship." Jeff grinned at her.

  "Either one works, you brat. I just hate the idea of having a reporter or editor in place who deliberately misinterprets or misunderstands me just to write an interesting story."

  "Because it's all about you."

  Polly nodded. "You're right. I shouldn't have said anything. Bellingwood has so much more going on than my silly world."

  "No, no, no," Jeff said. "I was only teasing. I understand your fears and you are right to have them. I'm so sorry."

  "This whole newspaper business has had me freaked out from the day I heard about Lillybeth Anderson buying it," Polly said. "I haven't said much because nothing happened, but I've been terrified that she would hear stories and think that writing an expose on me would make for entertaining reading. Aaron Merritt has done his best to keep my name out of reports so the news in the area can't latch on to a story, but you know people talk it."

  "I'm sorry, Polly. I didn't realize this worried you so much."

  She shrugged. "I try not to think about it. The last thing I need is to give those types of people real estate in my head. Especially when no one has done anything. But after that guy showed up during the sesquicentennial, trying to uncover me, I get jumpy whenever it feels like people are looking too hard at my life."

  "Can you imagine the scrutiny that celebrities are under?"

  "No," she said. "Especially if they're just trying to live their lives. But everyone pays attention and it’s not right."

  "Well, I'm still sorry. You get to be worried about whatever you want to worry about. You don't do it very often."

  "Sometimes I wish that dead bodies weren't part of my life."

  "I'm with you on that. It's just plain weird."

  "I keep trying to tell myself that if it wasn't me, someone else would have to be responsible for finding them. Or even worse, those poor people might never be found. Their families deserve to have closure, if nothing else."

  Jeff sighed. "I will never understand you. Yeah, sometimes it bothers me that people ask whether or not you've found a dead body lately."

  "They what?"

  "It's nothing. But you do sometimes choose inopportune times to get involved in a mystery. Like that time you found Scott Luther in the creek during a wedding reception? That doesn't happen to other people. It's always interesting to find new ways to explain to our clients why the owner of Sycamore House is chasing murderers through the back yard."

  Polly glared at him. "Is it hurting our business?"

  "Well, no. In fact, if anything, it probably helps. People are curious."

  "So, you're upset with me because …"

  "That's just it," Jeff said. "I'm not upset with you. It's just awkward having to be the one who explains."

  "What would you like me to do about that?"

  "Nothing," he said, hanging his head. "If you have to put up with finding the bodies, the least I can do is explain when it happens near Sycamore House." He gave her a cheeky grin. "Or Sycamore Inn, or the B&B, or wherever else you decide to find a body or a murderer."

  "Thank you," she said. "We all have our roles to play and our crosses to bear."

  "Then, what do you think? I buy the building; you buy the newspaper."

  "I need to talk to Henry."

  "Right. You said that. Will you talk to him tonight?"

  She chuckled. "Are you in a hurry?"

  "Well, yeah. Kinda. I'd hate to lose this great deal."

  "Buy the building anyway," Polly said. "Even if the whole newspaper thing falls through, you want the building. Don't base your future on me."

  "I've been doing that for the last six years. Why would now be any different?" Jeff stood up. "You're right, though. I don't need you to be involved with this part. Thanks."

  He was at the door to her office before she knew it. He turned back around. "And I am sorry for implying that you are selfish because you worry about what people think. That's the furthest thing from the truth. Please don't believe I think that about you."

  "It's okay. I get it,"
she said.

  After he left, she sent a text to Henry. "What would you think about owning a newspaper?"

  When he didn't immediately reply, she laughed and said out loud, "When he gets out of that meeting, he's going to wonder if I've lost my mind."

  It didn't take her long to become occupied with other matters at her desk. Polly was going through two of the monthly reports that Edna had given her the other day when her cell phone rang. She picked it up and said, "So, do you think I'm crazy?"

  "Ummm," came a voice on the other end.

  She looked at her phone and laughed. "Sorry, Len. I thought you were Henry calling me back after I texted him about a crazy idea. What's up?"

  "We're ready to deliver your piano." Len Specek, Andy's husband had been working to restore Polly’s piano for the last few months. He had a great crew. Even Elijah, who would be the primary pianist using the instrument, had helped at the shop while they restored the Steinway grand. He'd mostly run errands for the crew, but was fascinated with how the piano worked.

  That snapped her attention away from the columns of numbers. "What? Already? That's fantastic."

  "When would you like us to bring it over?"

  "Uhh, ummm. What do I need to do?"

  "Open your front door. I have a crew. With your big front doors, it will be a breeze. We'll back the truck up and bring it in. Where do you want it to go?"

  "The living room. That poor room hasn't gotten any decorating attention because I've been waiting for the piano." She heard her words. "I mean nothing by that. It's just that when I decided the piano would go in that room, I also decided to wait to decorate around it. I can't believe you're finished."

  "I think you'll be very happy. It's beautiful on the outside and on the inside," Len said with a chuckle. "Kind of like my wife, don't you think?"

  "She's not even around to hear you say those sweet words, Len."

  "It never fails. She's always busy somewhere else."

  "I have a meeting tomorrow morning at the B&B, but after that I'm available."

  "If we lined up the moving crew for Friday, would that work?"

  "That would be fantastic. We’ll move the sofas and make sure the room is ready. Thank you."