Bookman Dead Style

by Paige Shelton

  Though the roads were clear, the entire valley was blanketed in snow that glittered when the sunlight skimmed over it. It was lovely.

  “One hundred thousand dollars?” Seth said. “That’s . . . unbelievable.”

  “I know. I want to get it back to him as soon as possible. Would you mind tracking him down?”

  “Not a problem.” He paused. “Well, I don’t think it’s a problem.”

  “What?”

  “Daryl was in town to clean out his mom’s house. I’m not sure where he went from there. I’ll find him, though. I have his number. I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks. How’s your assignment going?”

  “Really well. I should be back soon. I’m on my way, but southern Utah is really nice this time of year.”

  “I know. Hey, do you have plans tonight and tomorrow night?”

  “Let me think. Other than hoping to see you? No.”

  “You have any fancy dress-up clothes?”

  “Something other than T-shirts and jeans? I just might.”

  “Tonight we have a movie and you can wear whatever you want, but I’ve also got tickets for a big festival event tomorrow, if you’d like to go.”

  “Love to.”

  “Great. Let me know what you find out about your friend.”

  “Will do. Love . . . I mean . . .” The pause was filled with a heavy sigh on Seth’s part and the opposite on my part; I held my breath. “Clare, this isn’t the best way to share feelings, but they’re real and I guess they needed to be spoken at this moment. I’m sorry, but I do love you.”

  He was such a logical geologist-scientist.

  I laughed and then breathed again. “Don’t be sorry.” I was a big believer in never, ever saying those words unless you were one hundred and fifty percent certain you felt them. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I love you too.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  I laughed again. “We’ll talk about this more later.”

  “Sounds good. Talk to you later.”

  We hung up. The words from Seth weren’t a surprise, even if the moment of delivery was. Who liked predictable anyway?

  The snowy postcard valley was as close to perfect as any winter scene could get. A white blanket covered the ground, and the accumulating snow along the sides of the roads hadn’t become dirty yet. The blue sky and the bright sun warmed the cold air and made the perfect combination to give skiers sunburned cheeks and noses. Once the snow quit falling over town, our slopes would go crazy.

  As I approached the high cinder block wall around the polygamist compound, I felt my nerve start to seep away. Though the wall wasn’t that bad because there were also lots of snow-topped trees and shrubbery next to it to make the gray fortress somewhat welcoming—or at least less unwelcoming—I decided maybe I could have handled the question about the typewriters with just a phone call. Linea would know why I’d come out in person, to see if she’d become as odd as she guessed the rest of the world thought she was.

  I pulled my car to the side of the narrow but not well-traveled road to think through what I was doing.

  A flash of activity up ahead caught my attention. A group of people gathered at the end of a long curve that snaked around to the other side of the compound. There were no typical corners in the middle of the valley, but there were intersections, usually created to make transportation from the main road to someone’s home easier than over the dirt roads. The group was small, maybe six people tops. They were all in winter wear and one of the members held a big camera on his shoulder.

  The one person who wasn’t wearing a coat suddenly stepped away from the group and faced the camera. Even if she had been in a coat, her tall stature and long blond braid would have told me who she was.

  What in the world was Nell Sterling doing in the middle of Purple Springs Valley?

  I didn’t think twice as I pulled the car back out onto the road and drove slowly toward the actress and the film crew.

  When they noticed me, the filming stopped. They turned toward my car and waited patiently for me to pass. I didn’t pass, though. I stopped and rolled down my window.

  I smiled and waved at Nell.

  Her reaction caught me off guard. I didn’t expect her to rush in my direction and I was interrupting her work, but I was not prepared for the play of the smile that began on her lips and then disappeared a second later. She didn’t say anything to me, nor did she wave. In fact she turned her back to me as someone threw a coat over her shoulders. She wore a dress and apron similar to the one I’d seen Cassie Bane in only a short time before she was killed, but now it was covered by a big blue thing that looked like something for the shoulders of a football player on the sidelines.

  “Can we help you?” Howie said as he approached my car.

  “I’m . . . sorry. I met Nell yesterday and I was just saying hello. I realize now that I’m interrupting your work. I apologize.”

  “You’re the woman from the paper and typewriter place,” Howie said as he smiled.

  “I am.”

  “Well, Nell’s busy at the moment. I can give her a message.”

  “Just hello.” I paused. I couldn’t think of a worse time to share the secret word with Howie, but when was I going to have another chance? I looked toward the group. Everyone but Nell looked at me, and they were all close enough that I’d have to get Howie closer if I didn’t want the others to hear what I said or read my lips. “Mind if I ask what you’re filming?”

  “Sure. Nell’s got a part in an upcoming film about polygamy. The movie will be shot in a studio, but since we’re here, we’re filming an end credit—like an epilogue of a book—using the house as the background.” He pointed. “Polygamists live there.”

  “Right. These women don’t wear those clothes. I mean, some polygamist women do wear them, but these women are much more contemporary.”

  Howie shrugged. “Makes for a better story this way, darlin’.”

  I nodded, but my eyebrows came together and I pushed up my glasses in a disapproving manner. I wasn’t overly sensitive about anyone’s thoughts or criticisms of the Christiansens, but Howie’s attitude and his patronizing use of “darlin’” got under my skin.

  “How come you didn’t go see Matt Bane when he was in the Star City jail?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “How come?”

  Howie blinked at me. “I’m not sure my dealings with Matt Bane are any of your business. And how do you know I didn’t visit him?”

  “I know.”

  “Well, thanks for stopping by. We’ve got to get back to work. I’ll let Nell know you send your regards.” Howie turned and walked back to the group.

  “You should make sure Matt has an attorney,” I said to his back.

  He didn’t respond in any way as his attention was drawn completely back to his group.

  I turned the car around in the road, using the three-point method, and slowly drove to the driveway of the big house. I didn’t know why Nell had cold-shouldered me, but I was willing to chalk it up to something about my intruding. Movie stars acquire crazy stalker fans. Perhaps that’s what she thought I was—why else would I be out in the middle of nowhere, but right where she happened to be?

  I’d said my piece to Howie, and I hadn’t even needed the secret word to tell him to get Matt an attorney. I was glad I hadn’t said it, in fact. I didn’t want any sense of connection with him. Relief washed through me. I hadn’t known that carrying the message around with me had been such a burden. I didn’t know if Howie had done or would do anything to help Matt, but now I’d done my small part.

  As I pulled into the long driveway, I could see the Hollywood group in my rearview mirror. Their activities came to a halt so they could watch me be admitted through the front gate after I said m
y name into a security speaker. Even Nell seemed curious.

  I wasn’t sure if making the movie crew jealous of my admittance was one for the polygamists’ team or one for Clare’s team, but I liked it.

  I traversed the long driveway that led to the large, blocky two-story house. It seemed that design had been ignored and size had been made the priority. It wasn’t an unattractive house, but its rectangular shape was plain.

  I hesitated in the car only a moment after I parked it next to the shoveled walkway. I’d come this far, so I might as well go knock on the door.

  “Clare, hello!” Linea said, and she opened the door wider. She smiled and didn’t look polygamist-y at all, whatever that was.

  “Hey, Linea, I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “Not at all. Come in. It’s good to see you.”

  I followed her into a long hallway decorated with what had to be hundreds of framed photographs on both walls.

  “We’re baking bread. Come on back,” she said.

  I’d just told Howie that Nell hadn’t been dressed authentically to the Christiansen women. I’d been correct, mostly. But today, Linea did wear a simple apron over her jeans and sweatshirt, and her hair was pulled up into a bun, but it wasn’t tight and long pieces had come loose around her face. She didn’t ever wear much makeup and her olive skin and brown hair worked well together. She wore no makeup today. I always thought she was pretty. Jodie thought she was “okay.”

  “Duke and I stopped by the shop not too long ago. I was hoping to say hello, but we missed you. Talked to your grandfather,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Thanks so much for the type pieces. They are a wonderful and generous gift,” I said. “Both Chester and I are very grateful.”

  “Glad we could do it.”

  The kitchen was ridiculous—vast and busy. The appliances were old and yellow. The cabinets with medium-toned wood and small iron handles and the blue countertops were old too, but everything was in great condition. The space was large enough to accommodate three butcher-block islands and a bunch of kids in the middle of making bread. I suddenly admired Linea simply for her ability to work with so much noise.

  A quick glance over the group told me that most of the kids were under twelve, but one or two of the girls might have been teenagers. Those kids who looked at me smiled, but most of them ignored me and kept their attention on the dough in front of them, or chatted with the others around their butcher block. The smell of baked bread not only filled the air; it pleasantly consumed it. Six loaves were cooling on a wire rack against one wall, but there were many more loaves to come if I assessed correctly.

  “Oh, dear, this is way too loud in here. Okay, everyone, keep working. I’m going to step out on the back porch with a friend for a minute,” she said.

  Murmurs of agreement spread through the room.

  She continued to lead the way as we snaked around children dressed mostly in jeans and sweatshirts and pushed through some back doors, taking us out to a screened-in back porch that stretched the length of the house. It was well furnished with wicker chairs that had no cushions. I could see how appealing the space would be in the warmer months.

  “Sorry about that,” Linea said. “You do get used to it, but it can get crazy.”

  “No problem.” I looked at her. She didn’t seem the least bit hesitant about my being there. She wasn’t trying to hide anything. She seemed so . . . normal. “How are you?”

  She smiled knowingly. “I’m great. I’m happy about my lifestyle choice, Clare. I know it’s not for everyone and it’s certainly different from the norm, but I’m happy here. I know you and Jodie have wondered. I couldn’t find a way to talk to you that didn’t seem too weird, and the years have flown by.”

  “No, no, not at . . . well, yes, actually. You were the party girl. We’ve wondered.” There was no point in lying.

  Linea laughed. “I don’t know if my desire to change my ways brought me here or if it was something else. I don’t preach and I won’t ever try to convince anyone that this is the way to go, but it’s working well for me.”

  I inspected her. She did look happy. Some polygamist families made headlines when charges of abuse toward children and women were brought against them. There was no sense that was happening in this house, and I didn’t think the Linea I knew would put up with such a thing, but I hoped she would feel comfortable enough to tell me if she needed any sort of help. “How many children do you have?”

  “Three of my own, but there are fourteen in the family. I just saw your eyes get big. Don’t run away screaming.”

  “I’m sorry.” I tried to stop my eyes from bulging out of their sockets. “I’m glad you’re happy. Can’t let go of the . . . differentness of it all, but glad you’re happy.”

  Linea laughed. “You look happy too. I see Jodie being all tough and coplike in town sometimes. She seems to be happy as well. Now, why have you come to see me?” She looked at the bag over my shoulder.

  “Oh. Right. Well, first of all, this is for you and your . . . husband. And the kids of course. It can’t begin to express our gratitude for your gift, but . . .” I handed her the copy of Little House in the Big Woods.

  “Really?” She glanced up at me briefly before she smiled at the faded but colorful dust jacket. “It’s one of our favorites around here. And it’s a beautiful book. We’ll take care of it.”

  “Well, I need to point out something. I’m going to bring you back an actual printed page, but Chester thought you might just like to have it to read, and I had one other thing to discuss today, so I brought it up.”

  I turned to and explained the missing page. Linea only seemed to hold the book closer afterward.

  “This is an unbelievable gift, Clare. Thank you. I’m sure the children and Duke will be thrilled. Please tell your grandfather thank you.”

  “I will.” I didn’t like the way her thoughts seemed to go to how her husband would feel more than how she felt, but maybe that was just my being too observant, too sensitive. Truly, what went on behind the tall gray cinder block walls was none of my business, as long as abuse wasn’t a factor. “My other question.” I grabbed my phone from my pocket and pulled up a picture of the Selectrics.

  “Typewriters?”

  “Old typewriters, but they’re in good condition. We’ve taken them on consignment and the owner wanted to know if you all might be interested in them.”

  “Us? I don’t think . . .” She laughed. “Well, I’m not sure. It’s not something I would have ever thought about, but they might be something for the children.”

  “Think about it. Just let me know. I don’t think there will be a big rush on them, but I’d like to let him know if you aren’t interested.”

  “I will. Here, just message me the picture.” Gingerly, she placed the book on a short side table that had at least six pairs of muddy boots underneath and pulled a cell phone out of her back pocket.

  I didn’t comment regarding how surprised I was by the fact that she had a modern cell phone. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was difficult to change preconceived notions of simplicity and backwardness, even when I knew this was a contemporary group of people, and had just told a Hollywood guy as much.

  Once the message dinged and she put the phone back in her pocket, I said, “Do you know there are some Hollywood people out in front of your property?”

  “I saw them.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re doing some movie based on us. Loosely based, I guess. We didn’t give them permission, but we did receive a letter asking if we wanted to add input. They stopped by too. Duke told them no. It wouldn’t matter what input we gave—they’d still just do whatever they wanted and make us look either bad or at least stupid.”

  “Probably. Do you go see any of the festival films?”

  “No, not really. A night out at the movies for all of us would be a fortun
e and we’d take over a whole theater.” She laughed. “Our movie nights are at home, with lots of animation. We churn our own butter for the popcorn, though.”

  “That’s good to hear. I was beginning to really wonder where that party girl had gone.”

  “I was a wild kid. I don’t think that’s what led me here, Clare, but it is good to not be so wild anymore.”

  “I don’t know, Linea—this is pretty wild.”

  “Well, the rebel stayed, but was tamed to steer her rebel ways in a different direction.”

  “Got it.”

  She led me through the kitchen again. I saw her hesitate briefly as if she was debating whether to introduce me to any of the kids, but she decided not to. There were no other sister-wives in the kitchen or in the house as far as I could tell, and I assumed Duke was at his job in Salt Lake City.

  She gathered a mostly cooled loaf of the bread and slipped it into a brown grocery sack.

  “Please enjoy,” she said.

  I didn’t feel right about taking the bread, but I thought she might be offended if I didn’t. Besides, it was homemade bread. Who in their right mind turns down homemade bread?

  “Thank you,” I said.

  She saw me to the front door and we thanked each other again, but neither of us mentioned making plans for a future lunch date. There were just things that weren’t ever going to happen, and Linea and I socializing together was probably one of them.

  I glanced at the corner of the property the second I was outside the wall. Nell and her crew were gone, or had moved to somewhere I couldn’t see.

  My phone rang as I pulled onto the two-lane highway.

  “Chester?”

  “No, it’s Marion, Aunt Clare. Can you come back to the store?”