by Kelly, Sofie
“Here,” I said, holding out the blue suitcase. “This should work.”
“Thanks, Kathleen,” she said. She looked shaky.
“Why don’t you let me fold these for you?” I said. “I’m a master at folding and packing. I promise.”
Ruby hesitated for a second, then nodded and sat on the edge of the bed.
I folded the green dress and laid it in the bottom of the suitcase. Then I added the sweater, the slip and the rest of the underclothes. “There,” I said to Ruby, snapping the suitcase closed. “Ready to go?”
She grabbed the suitcase handle and stood up. A look of panic crossed her face. “Wait a minute,” she said. “I didn’t get her any shoes.” She took a couple of steps toward the closet.
“We don’t need shoes, Ruby,” I said softly. She looked at me, confused. “Agatha doesn’t need shoes,” I repeated.
Ruby swallowed, turned her head and blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. I waited silently until her breathing even out. “You’re right,” she whispered. “For a minute I forgot why we were here.”
We went back to the kitchen, turning off the lights behind us. I pulled on my boots and held the suitcase while Ruby stepped into hers. Outside she locked the door, twisting the knob to make sure it was fastened securely.
“It looks so sad,” she said.
“I know.” I pulled on my mittens. “But don’t forget that Agatha was away from here for months.”
We walked down the driveway to the street. “Ruby, who was Ellis?” I asked. “Was that Agatha’s husband?”
“No,” Ruby said. “Ellis was her brother. Ellis Slater. He died, oh, almost twenty years ago. This was his house. He left it to Agatha.” She shifted the suitcase from one hand to the other. “Why do you ask?”
“There were boxes in the second bedroom. The name Ellis was on one of them. And there were some men’s clothes in the closet.”
Ruby gave me a wry smile. “That would be Agatha. Never throw out something that might be useful.”
“My father does the same thing.” I didn’t add that my dad’s idea of useful didn’t usually meet the average person’s idea of what was useful. Which was why every time we’d moved, someone had had to pack the candelabra made from a pair of moose antlers.
We walked to the corner together. “Thank you for coming with me,” Ruby said. “I’m going to take this down to Gunnerson’s. I want things to be there when she . . . when her . . .” She stopped to clear her throat. “When they’re needed.” She shrugged. “Silly, isn’t it?”
“No,” I said. “It’s kind.” I pulled my hat down over my ears. “Will I see you later at the Winterfest supper?”
She nodded. “As far as I know. I’m meeting Justin later.”
“I’ll see you later, then,” I said. I started for the community center, looking back over my shoulder once to see Ruby heading resolutely down the street for Gunnerson’s Funeral Home.
Maggie was at the entrance of the parking lot as I came up the street. She was wearing her purple fake-fur jacket, stamping her feet on the sidewalk to stay warm. She waved when she caught sight of me, and I quickened my pace. “Am I late?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “You’re few minutes early. Let’s go get in line before it gets any longer.”
The line at the front door of the community center, of maybe two dozen people, snaked down the street. Maggie and I scurried to get to the end.
The queue moved pretty quickly. We were inside in five minutes, maybe even less. Maggie had money hidden in her glove and paid for both of us before I could even get my wallet out.
“Why did you do that?” I asked, as we followed the crowd to the hall.
“Because you’ve been doing so much to help me while I’ve been working on the display.”
“I climbed a ladder and adjusted a couple of lights.”
She held up a hand. “You did more than that,” she said. “How many times did you bring me supper? How many cups of tea did you make? How many times did you listen while I sat in your living room, going on and on about this project?”
I grinned and elbowed her. “You thought I was listening? I don’t even think Owen was listening.”
She stuck out her tongue. “Even so, I just wanted to say thank you. So let me. It’s beans and scalloped potatoes and pie, for heaven’s sake. I didn’t buy you a car.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you for the thank-you.” I looked around. There were at least a couple dozen people checking out Maggie’s display.
Maggie had spotted a pair of vacant chairs at one of the long tables. I threaded my way around the chairs and people, trying to keep up with her long legs. A lot of people smiled, said hello or raised a hand in greeting. I was surprised by how good it made me feel, especially after being in Agatha’s lonely house.
Mags was standing by the table she’d spotted, a hand on each of the chairs.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Take off your coat and sit down.”
I looked around. “How do we get our food?”
“It’s coming,” she said, setting her fuzzy teddy-bear coat over the back of the chair and pulling off her lime green hat.
I tipped my head toward the back wall. “You have fans,” I said.
She looked over her shoulder and then grinned at me.
The person to the right of Maggie leaned around her and smiled at us. His mouth was too full to say anything. It took a second for me to recognize Officer Craig in his street clothes.
I smiled back.
“How’s everything?” Maggie asked the pretty brunet on the other side of Officer Craig.
“Good,” she said.
“Your mom’s?” Maggie asked, pointing at what looked to be some kind of mustard pickle on the table in front of her.
The young woman nodded.
“Great,” Maggie said. “I bought three bottles of her pickles at the market last fall. They didn’t last three weeks.”
“I know. I ate all the jam she gave me. And when I tried to get another bottle she said I’d have to pay for it. And I picked half those berries.”
Just then a woman wearing a long white apron appeared. She was carrying two loaded plates. She set them, hot and steaming, in front of us. Behind her came a teenager, also apron clad, with two glasses of water.
They were the Kings, I realized, mother and daughter. Roma had been out at their place almost every week this winter, looking after the old—too old, it turned out—horse they’d bought for their daughter. I was guessing the teenager was the horse-loving daughter. The I ❤ HORSES T-shirt was a dead giveaway.
She gave me a shy smile and handed over one of the glasses and a napkin-wrapped roll of utensils.
I looked at the plate, unsure of where to start. There were baked beans fragrant with molasses and mustard, a thick slice of ham, crispy golden-topped scalloped potatoes, and a casserole of what looked like carrot and turnip.
I unrolled my napkin and picked up my fork. Maggie was already eating, making little murmurs of enjoyment. She sounded a lot like Hercules had when I’d given him the sardines.
I tried a bite of the casserole. “Oh, wow. This is good,” I said out loud. I took another bite. Did I taste just a hint of nutmeg? I couldn’t help a grunt of pleasure.
“You’re making me hungry,” a voice said behind me. Roma was standing between our table and the next, unwinding a fuzzy blue scarf from around her neck.
“Hi,” I said.
“Can I squeeze in next to you?” She looked around for space.
Maggie scraped her chair a little closer to Officer Craig, who didn’t seem to mind moving closer to his pretty girlfriend. I went in the other direction and then a chair seemed to materialize out of nowhere, handed over the tables to Roma, who smiled a thank-you and pushed into the space we made for her.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, pulling off her coat and putting it over the back of the chair. “I had to set a golden Lab’s leg.”
“Hit by a car.” Roma shook her head in annoyance. “It’s slippery. If the dog’s running loose and meets a car, the car is the one that’s going to come out unhurt.” She pushed the sleeves of her sweater back. “Why don’t people understand that?”
Before I could say anything, the Kings were back with a drink and plate for Roma, steam rising from the food.
“Thanks,” Roma said.
“Are you alone?” Ella King asked with a sly smile. Roma gave her a puzzled look. “No, I’m with them,” she said, pointing from me to Maggie, who was eating like food was going out of style. Roma noticed the teenager then. “Hi, Taylor. How’s Horton?”
“He’s good,” the girl said. “Kind of stiff in the cold, though.”
“Yeah, me too these days,” Roma said. “I’ll be out the first of the week to see him.”
Taylor gave her a warm smile. “Thanks, Dr. Davidson,” she said.
Roma unrolled her napkin, placed it in her lap and picked up her fork.
“Horton?” I asked, grabbing my knife so I could cut a piece of ham.
“Her horse. Horton Hears a Who! Dr. Seuss. It’s Taylor’s favorite book.”
A woman I didn’t know passed in front of us in the aisle between our table and the next. “Hi, Roma,” she said, with a grin and an obvious wink.
Roma lifted a hand in hello. Her mouth was full.
The other woman looked around. “By yourself tonight?” Before Roma could say anything, the woman’s grin got bigger. “Yeah, playing hard to get is a good plan.”
Maggie kept her head over her plate and her eyes on her food, but her shoulders were heaving with laughter. It was clear the rumors about Roma and Eddie Sweeney were all over town.
I started on the scalloped potatoes and hoped I wouldn’t laugh, too.
Roma set down her fork and slid her chair back a bit. “Spill it,” she said.
I leaned over, trying to catch Maggie’s eye, but she kept them on her food, stuffing in more beans and shaking with laughter. Roma folded her arms. My food was getting cold and Maggie was letting me sink. Roma waited, staring expectantly at me.
“Well, there’s kind of a rumor going around that you’re . . . seeing someone.”
“Whom am I supposed to be seeing?”
I swallowed. Maggie was not going to rescue me. “Eddie.” I blurted.
“Eddie?” Roma said with a frown. “Eddie who?”
Maggie almost choked. Roma thumped her on the back a couple of times, then turned her attention back to me again. “Eddie who?” she repeated
“Eddie Sweeney,” I said staring down at my plate. If I looked at anyone I was going to laugh, too.
Her mouth fell open. “Eddie? The hockey player? Maggie’s mannequin?” Maggie looked up at last.
Roma glared at her. “This is all your fault.”
“How is it my fault?” Maggie asked, trying to look innocent and not laugh herself silly at the same time.
“I was driving your”—Roma gestured wildly with her hands—“creation around. And now people think I’m having a fling with the real Eddie. I’m old enough to be his”—she paused—“older sister, for heaven’s sake.”
“Since when do you care what people think?” I asked, wiping mustard from my chin.
“Since always,” she retorted.
Maggie lips were twitching. Trouble. “Tell you what,” she said. “When Winterfest is over, I’ll give you Eddie. Then you really will be a couple.”
Roma picked up her fork. She was trying to look mad, but I didn’t think she really was. I kept looking at her until she looked at me.
“Every time I let you two in my car, things end up going south,” she said. “Every single time.”
I realized she was thinking about the time Maggie sort of hijacked Roma and her SUV because we were trying to follow someone.
At the end of the table, beyond Officer Craig and his girlfriend, was a family I had seen in the library a few times, lots of Dr. Seuss and Max and Ruby books. Dad and the four-year-old were doing patty-cake, the girl’s blond curls bouncing.
“Patty-cake, patty-cake,” the little one chanted, her high, clear voice carrying down the table. But instead of saying, “bake me a man,” she said, “make me a man.”
Maggie looked at Roma and said, “I did.” Then she put her head on the table and collapsed in laughter. Roma whacked her with a paper napkin and went back to eating.
I decided this would be a great time to go in search of coffee, even though I knew it would make me restless this late in the day. “I’ll be right back,” I said.
The coffee and tea table was over by the kitchen. I wound my way around tables, smiling and saying hello to everyone I knew. Rebecca and Mary, both in the same long white aprons that all the servers seemed to be wearing, were deep in conversation at the tea table.
I picked up a mug, added sugar and reached for the stainless-steel coffee carafe.
Mary noticed me then. “I’ll get that for you,” she said, taking the cup from my hand. “Would you like regular, decaf or chocolate hazelnut?”
I wasn’t much of a fan of flavored coffee, but maybe just this once.
“Chocolate hazelnut,” I said. “Please.”
Rebecca lightly touched my arm. “Kathleen, is Justin Anders the young man Ruby’s been seeing?”
“Yes, he is,” I said, taking my cup back from Mary. “Why?”
“You haven’t heard?” Mary asked. “Turns out it wasn’t a rumor after all.”
“What?” I asked, wondering what new piece of town news they had.
Mary shrugged. “Agatha left Ruby’s boyfriend half a million dollars.”
11
I glanced from Rebecca, who looked apologetic, to Mary, who could be described only as smug. I set the coffee on the edge of the table. I was afraid I was going to drop it.
“Agatha left money to Ruby’s boyfriend?”
“Yes.” Mary grabbed the carafe to pour a cup of coffee for one of the servers.
I was dumbfounded. Then I thought about the rumor going around that Roma was seeing an NHL hockey player ten years her junior. “You certain?” I asked. “I didn’t realize he even knew her.”
Mary handed the cup over to the young server. “Yes, I am.”
Rebecca brushed the front of her apron. “The information came from Bridget,” she said.
I had forgotten that Mary’s daughter, Bridget, was the publisher of the Mayville Heights Chronicle. “But half a million dollars? Where would Agatha get half a million dollars?” I remembered the tiny, spare house.
“Agatha was very frugal,” Mary said, smiling at another server on her way to the kitchen.
“What about her son? Why would she leave money to someone she didn’t know instead of him?”
Mary shrugged. “All I know is some lawyer from Red Wing did a new will for Agatha. She signed it the day before she died.”
I shook my head slowly. “That doesn’t make any sense. Peter Lundgren was Agatha’s lawyer.”
“Apparently not anymore.” Mary swept a few crumbs off the table.
It couldn’t be true. But it was going to hurt Ruby. “This is getting messy,” I said to Rebecca.
She patted my arm. “I know.”
I picked up my coffee and wound my way back to the table. Maggie glanced over at me as she scraped the last few baked beans from her plate. Something in my face made her take a second look. “What is it?” she asked.
Roma turned to look at me, as well. I pointed toward the tea table.
“According to Rebecca and Mary, Agatha left half a million dollars to Justin.”
“Of course she did,” Roma said. “And I’m dating Eddie Sweeney.” She shot a quick look at Maggie, who blushed just a little. “First of all, Agatha didn’t have half a million dollars. She had a teacher’s pension and from her day that wasn’t a lot of money. And second, if she did have a little money she wouldn’t leave it to someone she hardly kne
w.”
“It doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Maggie agreed.
“The story came from Bridget.”
Roma waved her hand like she was chasing away a bug. “Well, Bridget got it wrong or Mary did. Agatha didn’t have that much money. She didn’t have any money.” She pushed her plate away. “It’s just a rumor and it’s wrong.”
“It has to be,” Maggie said. “You saw her. Did Agatha look like someone who had a lot of money?”
Actually she had looked like someone who didn’t spend a lot of money. She wasn’t buying clothes or things for her house. Maybe she’d amassed a small fortune and no one knew about it. Luckily I didn’t have to answer because the Kings were back to collect our plates and deliver slices of apple pie.
I picked up my fork. The pie was better than promised. There was a hint of tartness to the apples, and I could taste the cinnamon and nutmeg. I actually made little groaning sounds as I took a second bite.
Maggie grinned at me over her plate. “I told you it was good,” she said.
I licked apple off the back of my fork. “Good?” I said. “I think I know how Owen feels about catnip.” I’d had Mary’s pie before, but this was warm, with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream melting on top. It was a party in my mouth.
We ate without talking, the pie was that good. I thought about swiping my finger over the plate to catch the last flakes of pastry, but those kind of manners belonged at the home, where only Owen and Hercules could see me. I pushed back my chair so I could stretch my legs.
“I ate too much,” Maggie said, patting her midsection.
“Me, too.” Roma pulled at the front of her sweater.
“Want to walk over to the Winterfest site and take a look at things?” Maggie asked.
“I can’t,” Roma said, getting to her feet. “I’m on the cleanup crew.”
“Kath?” Maggie looked at me.
“Sure,” I said. I was kind of curious to see the sliding hill, the dogsled track and the outdoor rink.
Maggie looked over her shoulder at the back wall. There were dozens of people checking out Eddie and the various photo collages. “Roma just wants to ditch us so she can spend some time with Eddie,” she stagewhispered.
