The Package

by Sharon Dunn

  Shading her eyes, she pressed close to the glass and peered inside the dark office. None of the furnishings indicated what kind of business it was. Two desks and two office chairs, a door with lettering on it Annie couldn’t discern and several nice bronze sculptures of boats displayed on columnlike pedestals populated the room.

  Ocean Side Partners was located in Four Corners. Now she had something to work with. Finding a phone number and calling Ocean Side Partners first thing Monday morning would be a cinch. Annie gazed up and down the street. She was completely alone.

  She strode back up to the main street where she found Alice and the girls standing outside the hardware store.

  “Better?” Alice asked.

  Annie nodded. “And I found Ocean Side Partners.”

  “No kidding? That’s amazing,” Alice said.

  Annie’s phone rang. She lifted it out of her purse. “Hello.”

  “Mary Beth has just informed us that there is a Ferris wheel down by the lakeshore.” Annie recognized Peggy’s voice.

  “We’ll meet you there in five minutes.” Annie clicked her phone shut. “Who’s up for an amusement park ride?”

  They made their way down to the shore. Within minutes, the four older women and the teens were rising up in the air. Annie shared a seat with Erin. Behind her, she could hear Mackenzie and Lily chatting about the things they had seen at the fair.

  The chairs eased up to the highest point on the Ferris wheel. The operator stopped the wheel to let more passengers on.

  The view of the sound, the rocky shore, and gulls diving gracefully into the gently rolling waves was breathtaking. Annie felt light-headed.

  “Do you suppose your grandmother ever cross-stitched anything like the view from up here?” Mackenzie said from behind her.

  “I’m sure she would have been inspired by it,” shouted Annie. All of the distress she had felt about her purse being rifled through dissipated. Annie breathed in the fresh air. When she looked over at Erin, she was smiling. The Ferris wheel cranked to life, and everyone screamed as the chairs waggled back and forth.

  By the time the group decided to head back home, the fair was winding down, and the sun was low on the horizon. Kate had decided to stay and help Mary Beth pack up. She offered the keys to Peggy.

  Annie rode in Gwen’s car, this time with Taylor and Mackenzie. The talk was much livelier as the girls chatted about their day and asked questions about various needle-craft projects they had seen. Gwen never got around to turning the music on.

  It was nearly dark when they returned to A Stitch in Time. The girls had phoned ahead so parents were waiting. The older women waited until the last girl climbed into a car and drove away.

  Alice stood beside Annie. “Do you suppose that made a difference in their attitude about the project?”

  Annie watched the red taillights of Lily’s mom’s car disappear. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  As Annie drove home, a sense of joy filled her thoughts. The windows in the old Victorian house were dark when she pulled up. She stepped into Grey Gables, clicked on the light, and refilled the food dish for a complaining Boots. She drifted up the stairs feeling lighter than air.

  Even thoughts about someone taking her purse couldn’t deflate her spirits. Some days were just good that way. The teen girls hadn’t totally committed to the project, yet something had changed today in a positive way. She slipped underneath her soft comforter and fell asleep thinking Gram would have loved a day like today.

  The next morning, Annie sipped her coffee while standing on the porch enjoying the view of the ocean. When the landline rang, she stepped into the living room and picked up.

  “Annie, Ian here. Listen, I’ve got some news for you about the Joan that left the package in Betsy’s attic. Can you join me for breakfast at The Cup & Saucer?”

  Annie checked her watch. She had been waiting for the public library to open so she could hunt down the phone number for Ocean Side Partners. There had been a message from Katrina at Seaside that she wanted Annie to come by and meet the women who were interested in the project. “Sure, I have to come into town anyway. See you in ten minutes.”

  The breakfast rush at The Cup & Saucer was just getting underway when Annie stepped into the restaurant. The scent of cinnamon and maple syrup hung in the air. Ian was sitting at his usual table. Annie didn’t see Peggy anywhere. Maybe this was her day off.

  Annie settled into a chair opposite Ian, who was all smiles.

  The waitress came over and set down menus.

  “I don’t need to see the menu. I know I want one of your famous cinnamon rolls.” The smell of the rolls had already made her mouth water. How could she not have one?

  “A woman after my own heart,” said Ian, turning his focus to the waitress. “I’ll have my usual.”

  The waitress nodded and gathered up the menus. Ian ate here so much that he had a “usual” for breakfast.

  Annie scooted her chair closer in, rested her elbows on the table, and laced her fingers together. “So what did you find out?”

  “Like I said, I had it in my head that a woman named Joan visited here for a while sometime around 1997. I kept thinking she was staying with a Stony Point resident.”

  “She wasn’t?”

  “I had dinner with the city council last night at the Maplehurst Inn. That’s when everything clicked for me.”

  Annie had been in the Maplehurst Inn, a beautiful colonial-style hotel that boasted a fancy dining room. “And?” Annie wiggled in her chair, tensing with anticipation.

  “There was a Joan who visited here for over a month, and she stayed at the Maplehurst. The owner remembers her because she stayed so long, and she keeps all her guest books. Joan’s last name was Whitlock.”

  “Oh, Ian, thank you,” Annie gushed.

  “We couldn’t talk for long because the restaurant started to get busy, but she is going to rack her memory and see if she can come up with anything else. You are welcome to swing by and talk to her. Do you have a pen?”

  Annie clicked open her purse and handed the pen to Ian. He wrote on a napkin. “This is the owner’s name and private phone number; she said you can come by or call anytime.”

  Annie took the napkin and read Ian’s evenly spaced lettering. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” Ian offered her a heartwarming smile.

  The waitress brought Ian an egg over easy, whole-wheat toast with strawberry jam, and a glass of water that was half ice with a slice of lemon. Ian smothered his egg with ketchup as Annie dug into her cinnamon roll.

  They talked about the sawmill Ian’s family owned, and then the conversation turned to the intergenerational project.

  “Let’s not call a press conference just yet,” Annie cautioned. “We are still trying to pull everything together.” She took a bite of gooey cinnamon roll. The sweetness lingered on her tongue.

  “I know you can do it.” Ian took a last bite of toast. He checked his watch. “You’ll have to excuse me; I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

  Annie rose to her feet. “I need to get to the library anyway.” She stepped out onto Main Street and headed toward the library. She knew Joan’s last name. She knew where Ocean Side Partners was. Maybe before the week was over, the stock certificates would be returned to their rightful owner.

  Annie entered the library Great Room. Valerie Duffy, the circulation librarian, stood at the Circulation Desk. She looked up and smiled when she saw Annie.

  “May I help you with something?” Valerie adjusted her oversized glasses.

  “Do you have a phone book for Four Corners?”

  “We only keep the books for towns within a hundred miles of Stony Point. We could try the online phone book for Maine.”

  Valerie led Annie to three computers in the far end of the library. She seated herself in front of a computer and gestured for Annie to take a seat beside her. The librarian typed in the information. No phone number came up for an Ocean Side Partners
in Four Corners, Maine.

  Annie leaned toward the computer. “Really? I was just there; I saw the office. Does the phone book have white pages too?”

  Valerie nodded.

  “Can you see if there is a listing for Joan Whitlock or Therese Marie Gilkerson in Four Corners?”

  Valerie’s fingers tapped the keys. She pushed Enter; then she shook her head. “No one listed by those names in Four Corners. I can widen the search to all of Maine.”

  A girl of about 6, dressed head to toe in pink, came up to them. “Can you help me? I want to find a book about Yellowstone Park.”

  “Sure, sweetie.” Valerie excused herself.

  Annie stared at the screen that indicated there were “no results” for the name Joan Whitlock. In fact, there were no Whitlocks in the area. A search for all of Maine yielded no results as well. She closed the window on the phone book and went to a main search engine. She typed “Ocean Side Partners LLC.” A website came up for an Ocean Side Partners in New Hampshire. Nothing on the website said anything about Four Corners, Maine. From what she could tell, this Ocean Side Partners was in the construction business.

  This was perplexing. She hadn’t been imagining things. She’d seen the sign on the window in Four Corners. If she had to, she would drive back up there. The office would be open during the week. She quickly wrote down the phone number for the New Hampshire business. The phone call to this Ocean Side Partners would have to wait. She needed to get to her meeting with Katrina at Seaside Hills.

  Annie had decided that it was best to be honest with the women by telling them that they didn’t have a solid commitment from the teens yet. Even if the teens decided not to be involved, the Hook and Needle Club could make it a two-generation project. As she turned onto Elm Street, she allowed herself just a tiny bit of hope that everything would come together.

  Katrina was waiting for her in the foyer. “The ladies are so excited. I’ve got four women who have shown interest.”

  Katrina led Annie down the hallway to the dining room where the older women waited.

  Annie took a deep breath and entered the dining room.

  9

  The women sat around a table in the far corner of the unoccupied dining room. Though sounds of water running and pots banging came from the open door of a kitchen, all of the food trays in the dining room were clean and empty. Annie recognized the Joan she had already met, as well as one of the women she had seen knitting that night in the solarium, a small woman with candy-apple–red hair.

  Katrina leaned closer to Annie as they approached. “They like working in the dining room because the lighting is better. They come in between meals and have scheduled a standing meeting on Thursday nights. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it sooner. It took all of them getting together to come up with the idea. This has been good for them already.”

  Joan glanced up from her knitting, a smile gracing her lips. She whispered to the other women, who all looked in Annie’s direction.

  Katrina placed a hand on Annie’s back. “Ladies, this is Annie Dawson.”

  “We were pretty sure it was her,” said the redheaded knitter. “I’m Estelle. And this is Viola.” Estelle indicated the woman next to her, who had started on a crochet project in purple. Viola had short, blond hair cut close to her face. Her jacket and her skirt were made of matching red plaid.

  A tall woman, whose half-glasses rested on her beaklike nose, looked up from her needlepoint. “I’m Frieda.”

  Annie detected a slight twang when Frieda spoke—Oklahoma or Texas maybe.

  “When do we get to meet the girls?” Joan’s eyes sparkled behind her wire-rimmed glasses.

  The heaviness of the hope on the women’s faces weighed on Annie. She took in a deep breath. Honesty was always the best approach. “We are still putting things together with the teens.”

  “They could come here to our work space for our Thursday night meeting.” Joan did a Vanna White sweep of the dining room.

  Katrina rested a supportive hand above Annie’s elbow. “That is a good idea. We could make an evening of it.”

  Viola smoothed out her plaid skirt. “It sounds like this whole thing is still kind of in the maybe stage.”

  Even though there was no animosity in Viola’s observation, Annie felt a jab to her heart. These ladies were all so sweet and so eager. “Some of the girls seem kind of interested, but I don’t have clear commitment from all of them. Teenagers are so hard to understand.”

  All of the women nodded.

  Estelle shook her head. “My, my, some things never change. I understand. I raised five children, two girls and three boys.”

  Joan rose to her feet. “You just let those girls know that they are welcome here, and we will be delighted to work with them.”

  Annie fiddled with a button on her shirt. “They have been slow to give me a clear answer, but by Wednesday I will have a definite yes or no.” She wished she had better news to share.

  Katrina cleared her throat. “Maybe the best use of our time would be for Annie to visit with you ladies for a while. You can talk about what you think your strengths as needlecrafters are and share some of your project ideas.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Joan patted her tight, steel-gray curls.

  Katrina excused herself. Annie sat in the circle of older women talking about projects past and future. Even with just these four women, there was a rich heritage of skill and creativity. How wonderful it would be to connect them to the next generation. Her resolve grew as she listened and shared. This project was a small thing in a small town, but it mattered in a big way. She knew from having seen her own daughter through the teen years that you can’t force an adolescent to do anything. But because the teens had had time to think about it, she hoped they would see the value of the project.

  Annie said goodbye to the women, feeling as if she had made four new friends. As she walked down that long hallway that led to the Seaside entrance, she prayed that everything would come together. The idea of disappointing those sweet women would be a lot to bear.

  ****

  Annie drove down the hill toward Main Street. She had just picked up her groceries at Magruder’s when she remembered that she needed to call Ocean Side Partners in New Hampshire. She placed her groceries on the passenger seat of her Malibu and slipped in behind the wheel.

  Once she was home and the groceries were put away, she dug the phone number out of her purse and called. She paced while she waited for someone to pick up. She filled the kettle with water.

  A woman with a clear, high voice answered. “Hello, Ocean Side Partners. How may I help you?”

  Annie placed the kettle on the burner and flipped it on high. She hesitated, not sure how to phrase her inquiry. “I … um … I was wondering if you are the same Ocean Side Partners that I saw in Four Corners, Maine?”

  “Why yes, we are. We just opened a branch office there. Were you interested in one of our vacation condos that will be going up there soon?” The woman’s voice was pleasant and businesslike.

  Annie pressed the phone harder against her ear, strategizing the best approach to get the answers she needed. “I couldn’t find a phone number for the Four Corners office anywhere.”

  “That office is so new. I doubt they are even listed. We’re just doing the update on the website this week.” Suspicion colored the woman’s words. “Is there something I could help you with?”

  Annie opened the cupboard where she kept the tea. Carrying on a charade gnawed at her conscience. She didn’t want to waste the woman’s time or be dishonest. “Here is the thing. I found some stock certificates from Ocean Side Partners that were issued in 1997. I assume if you are expanding, the stock is doing well?”

  “Are you the holder of the stock?”

  She understood the woman’s reluctance to give out information. She was just trying to protect the investors. “I found the stock certificates in my grandmother’s attic, and I want to return them to their r
ightful owner, but I am having trouble locating her.”

  “Oh … I see.” There was a slight pause as though the woman had transferred the phone from one ear to the other. “Well, whoever purchased that stock in 1997 got in on the ground floor. They have at least tripled in value.”

  Annie’s throat constricted. The stock was worth a substantial sum. That made it more important than ever to get the certificates back to their owner. “I don’t suppose you would have a record with addresses and phone numbers of stock purchasers? I think Joan Whitlock bought the stock for someone named Therese Marie Gilkerson.”

  “So you are saying the purchaser and the person the stock is registered to might be two different people?”

  Annie wrinkled her forehead. “I guess that is what I am saying.”

  “We would have a record of each stock number and the registered holder. If a transfer took place, we would only have the registered holder, not the original purchaser.” A pause filled the phone line. “I would really like to help you. It sounds like you are trying to do a good thing, but that information is confidential. I can’t give it out over the phone.”

  Annie leaned back against the counter as a sense of defeat spread through her. “I understand, but I just want to return the stock certificates. What if this Therese person doesn’t even know about them?” If Therese had never gotten the gift of the physical certificates, maybe Joan hadn’t ever transferred the registration.

  “It does seem like she would have come forward by now if she knew about the stock’s value.” The woman spoke slowly as though she were problem solving.

  And where was Joan in all this? Something had kept her from coming back for the certificates. Annie thanked the woman and hung up, more perplexed than ever. She was about to close the cupboard door when she noticed the mouse droppings. A quick investigation revealed that her granola bars had been nibbled on.

  Annie let out a heavy sigh. “Guess who has moved downstairs?” Wiping her frustration with the mouse from her mind, she leaned against the counter. A thought she hadn’t previously considered popped into her head. Therese might not have come looking for the certificates because she didn’t know they had been intended for her, but what if Joan was dead? Maybe that was why she hadn’t come back for the stock certificates. A chill ran down Annie’s back.