The Sugarhouse Blues

by Mariah Stewart

  “Ben Haldeman is there?” Allie’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  Cara shrugged. “I guess he saw Joe’s truck out front and stopped to see what was going on.”

  “Why isn’t he patrolling the streets, keeping Hidden Falls safe from marauders?” Allie grumbled. “Isn’t that his job as chief of police?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Heather Martin was true to her word. Fifteen minutes after Des’s call, Heather was in the lobby with Joe and waiting when the Hudson crew arrived.

  Barney introduced her nieces, then Cara hung back to chat with Joe while Heather, Barney, Allie, and Des walked farther into the theater where the scaffolding reached two-thirds of the way to the ceiling.

  Des went straight to the point, asking, “So is this covered or not?”

  “The water damage caused by the wind, yes, but I’d like to see the coverage for the roofer, and I’d like one of our adjusters to go up and check the extent of the damage,” Heather replied, her eyes still on the ceiling. “It’s really a shame. That ceiling is just magnificent.”

  “It was.” Des grimaced.

  “It will be again,” Heather assured her. “It’s why you have insurance. To make you whole again.”

  “Is that Ben up there?” Barney followed Allie’s gaze. “Benjamin Haldeman,” she called, “you know what you’re doing up there?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ben called back.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Des watched Allie, who stood with her hands on her hips watching the man who began to descend carefully.

  Heather glanced around the lobby. “I’m so glad you all are doing something with the theater. It’s a Hidden Falls treasure, and everyone I know is tickled pink that we’re going to have the theater back again. Of course, the young folks don’t have firsthand recollections of it, but I remember coming to plays here in the summer when I was just a little girl.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get to do that again someday,” Des told her.

  Barney watched Ben drop to the floor from one of the lower rails. “Moonlighting as the roofing inspector now, Chief?”

  “Just curious. I figured as long as the scaffold was already in place, I might as well climb up and take a look. I might never get another chance to see that chandelier up close. Sure is hot up there, though.” Ben wiped the sweat from his face with the end of his T-shirt.

  “Heat rises. Or hadn’t you heard?” Allie stared.

  He turned to her. “Well, Miss Personality. I’m surprised you left home to venture out on a hot day like this. Aren’t you afraid your makeup will melt?”

  “I’m not wearing makeup.”

  “You should. You could use some color.”

  “And you should be out chasing felons.”

  “I will be in about”—Ben looked at his watch—“fifty-five minutes.”

  “You should leave now. It’ll take you at least that long to get prettied up for patrolling the mean streets of Hidden Falls.”

  “Gotta keep my town safe,” he said, nodding in agreement, “from evil-deed doers and bitchery in all forms.”

  Ben raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. Seconds later, a black-and-white dog raced from the direction of the stairs that led to the basement and crossed the lobby in a flash to sit at Ben’s feet.

  “Good girl.” Ben leaned forward to rub behind the dog’s ear. He took a small treat from his pocket and gave it to the dog, who wagged her tail in response.

  “Have you settled on a name for her yet, Ben?” Des asked.

  “She answers to Girl, so maybe that was her name.”

  “Girl? That’s it?” Allie raised an eyebrow. “You really named your female dog Girl? That’s the best you can do?”

  “What’s wrong with Girl?”

  “Your lack of imagination is stunning, though not totally unexpected.”

  “Yeah, well, what would you have named her?”

  “Something more original than Girl.”

  “Come up with something better and I’ll consider it.” Ben dismissed Allie by turning away and addressing the others. “Good to see you, ladies.” He called to Joe, who was still off to the side with Cara. “See you around. Thanks for letting me check out the ceiling. I’d like to go back once you get enough scaffold to go all the way up.”

  “Anytime.” Joe waved.

  Des tapped Allie on the arm. “Why do you bait that man the way you do?”

  “I don’t know. Something about him just brings out the best in me, I guess.”

  “You mean the worst.”

  “No. I mean the best.” Allie grinned. “He just tweaks that little old sarcastic streak of mine and I can’t seem to hold back.”

  Des muttered something under her breath about not realizing that streak ever needed to be tweaked.

  “Obviously I can’t evaluate the damage to the painted portions of the ceiling,” Heather was saying as she and Barney walked toward the door. “I can have a property adjuster over here as soon as I can shake someone free to take a look. But I’m afraid this storm has really overloaded our Claims Department. We’re going to be backed up for weeks.” She looked upward. “At the very least, I’m going to need photos of the damage to the ceiling.”

  “Seth took a whole bunch this morning. He couldn’t get as close as he wanted to, but he used a telephoto lens and I know he got some shots that were pretty detailed,” Joe said. “He went home to run some hard copies off his computer. I’ll be happy to drop them off at your office.”

  “That would be very helpful.” Heather smiled. “I can send those to our home office and see if anyone there knows an artist we could contact. Thanks, Joe.”

  “And we’ll let you know if we find someone who looks promising.” Barney opened the door that led into the vestibule.

  “Well, you have your work cut out for you,” Des told Allie.

  Allie nodded, the sarcasm now tucked away. “I’ll start making calls as soon as we get back to the house.”

  “I’ll see you there. I want to run upstairs to the projection room and check something out.” Des turned and headed for the steps leading to the second level.

  Once upstairs, she went into the projection room and opened the closet door. There were several shelves of metal film canisters. She opened one, then another. Most were empty, but a few contained rolled-up film. She glanced at the old projector. How to determine if it still worked without risking ruining a film?

  Des heard voices down below, then one drawing closer.

  Seth MacLeod appeared in the doorway. He was tall, had a totally shaved head, and was dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a faded red T-shirt that had Born to Ride emblazoned over the Harley-Davidson logo and did little to hide his broad chest. Deep brown eyes set off by long dark lashes drew her gaze to his ruggedly handsome face. Tattoos covered both well-toned arms, and in his hand he carried a brown envelope. “Joe said he thought I’d find you up here. I thought you’d like to see the pictures of the ceiling I took this morning.”

  “I would. Thanks.”

  Des went back to the projection stand, the man close behind. She returned the metal canisters to the closet to clear a space on the table for the photos, then held her hand out.

  Seth opened the envelope and handed her a few of the prints.

  “Oh crap.” Des’s face fell. “It’s even worse than I thought.”

  “There are very few things that can’t be fixed. This”—Seth picked up a close-up shot of one of the fleurs-de-lis—“can be fixed.”

  “God, I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.” Seth pointed at the projector. “So what are you doing with this little number? Planning on a little showing later?”

  “Don’t I wish we were at that point. And don’t I wish I knew if this baby still worked. There are still a few reels of film around. I’d love to be able to see if any of them were any good. I don’t know how to work the projector, though, and I’d be afraid I’d ruin the films, if they aren’t already ruined.”


  “Why would the films be ruined? Haven’t they been stored away?”

  Des nodded.

  “So maybe they’re still good.”

  Seth stepped behind her, then reached around her to turn the projector toward him. He was so close Des could feel his breath on the side of her face. For a moment, she froze, remembering another small room, another time when she’d been trapped between arms stronger than hers. She tried to pull herself away from that long-ago memory, and reminded herself that this was Seth—not him. Not someone intent on hurting her.

  “This still might work,” Seth was saying. “Mind if I take it home and tinker with it?”

  Words stuck in her throat.

  “Des?” His voice was soft, concerned.

  He’s not a threat. He’s a friend. He would never hurt me.

  “Des?” he repeated, one gentle hand touching her back. “You okay?”

  “I’m good. Sorry. I just . . . yes, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. His hand had moved to her shoulder, and she instinctively relaxed into its warmth.

  “So what were you thinking about doing with the films?”

  She turned around and leaned back against the table.

  “Maybe charging to show them. Or sell them. Anything to make a little money to keep the bills paid.”

  “Good thinking. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can do something with that.” He nodded in the direction of the projector, though his eyes were still locked with hers.

  “All right.” She tried to look away, but he held her gaze.

  “So.” His eyes darted from her face back to the photos that he’d left on the table. “I’ll drop these off at Heather’s office on my way back home. You want a copy? I’d be happy to run off an extra set.”

  “Yes, I’d like that, thanks. I’m sure they’ll come in handy if we . . .” Des smiled before correcting herself. “When we find an artist.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Seth looked as if he was about to say something more, but after a moment, merely said, “I’ll get you those photos.”

  “Great. Thanks so much.” The spell was broken, so she walked with him to the top of the steps. “See you later.”

  “You will,” he said without turning around.

  She watched him descend the steps and cross the lobby, where he stopped to say something to Joe and Cara before he left. Des went back into the projector room to turn off the lights, thinking how grateful she was to have a friend like easygoing Seth, who was always encouraging and upbeat, who always looked for the good in everyone and every situation and always put people at ease. That’s what real friends do. They make you feel good about yourself and help you when you need it.

  Must be why he was elected mayor of Hidden Falls three times.

  When Des had rescued the three dogs—Buttons, Ripley, and Girl—a few months ago from the theater, where they’d been making their home, she quickly needed to find foster families for them if not adoptive ones. She and Barney had been in agreement about keeping Buttons, the smallest of the three, but she needed good homes for the two black-and-white border collies. When she appeared before the town council to inquire about zoning regulations regarding a potential rescue shelter, and mentioned she was looking for homes for the strays she’d found, Seth had not hesitated to offer to take one of the dogs. He’d immediately seemed to understand how important it was to her that the dogs not be taken to a nearby shelter, where their fates would be uncertain.

  It brought a smile to Des’s face to remember how he’d all but bullied Ben into taking the other dog.

  In the past, Des’s relationships with men had mostly consisted of dates she wished she hadn’t gone on. She couldn’t deny they mostly ended because she always sensed something lacking. Even though she’d never managed to give that something a name, she knew whatever it was, it had never been there for her, but she suspected it was close to the truth to say it might have something to do with trust.

  She told herself she’d know when she found it, but until she did, she wasn’t going to settle for anything less. She’d heard too many cautionary tales about what happens when you compromise on what you really want. For heaven’s sake, look at her sisters! Both of them were divorced.

  What had they compromised on for the sake of love?

  A question for another time, Des thought as she joined Joe and Cara near the front door. For now, it was enough to know such compromises were not in her future. Love was complicated and messy and demanding, but friendship was simple and straightforward and easy, and it lasted. That’s what she had with Seth, and that was all she wanted.

  * * *

  “Girls, you picked one heck of a day to start working on the kitchen.” Barney stood in the doorway, her face flushed from the heat. “It’s hot as blazes in here.”

  Des grabbed a stack of dinner plates from an open cupboard and set them on the floor in front of the fireplace. The table and the counters were already piled high with the contents of the cabinets.

  “Hot as blazes, all right. But the taskmaster”—Des nodded in Allie’s direction—“decreed that today would be the day, so here we are.”

  “No time like the present.” Allie stood in the middle of the room, a box of paintbrushes and supplies in her arms. “No point in putting it off, especially since we don’t know when work can be started in the theater. Might as well use the time while we have it.” She set the box on the window seat. “Barney, I have all the paint you asked for. I love that soft, warm white for the walls.” She gazed around the room. “It’s going to be fabulous.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. How long do you think it’ll take?” Barney asked.

  “Maybe a week, if we all work steadily and don’t get too distracted,” Allie told her.

  “Well, I’m ready.” Barney rolled up the sleeves of her light blue shirt. “Where do I start?”

  “We start by cleaning the cupboards and the shelves. Next, we’ll take the doors off, wash those down, and let them dry. After that, we wash the woodwork. Who’s doing the upper cabinets?” Allie asked.

  “I am.” Barney raised her hand.

  “I have the lower ones,” Cara said.

  “Woodwork,” Des announced.

  “And I have the walls. If anyone wants to trade, speak up now.” Allie’s gaze went from one face to the next. No one offered. “Okay, good. We’re set.” She turned toward the box of supplies, then stopped. “Oh, if you need help getting the cabinet doors off, let me know. And once they’ve been washed down and dried, use the paint sprayer instead of a brush. The paint will go on faster and more evenly. Any questions?”

  Cara shook her head. “Nope.”

  “Good. Des, I’ll help you wash the woodwork and paint it as well. It takes the longest, and I can help you once the walls are finished.”

  “Shouldn’t you paint the woodwork first, and then the walls?” Des asked.

  “Everyone has their own theory on this. Mine is that you paint the walls first, then tape over and around the woodwork so if you’re a little sloppy, the paint goes onto the tape. Once you’re done, the tape comes off.” Allie hastened to add, “Not that we’re aiming for sloppy here.”

  “Got it.” Cara nodded. “Wait, is there a screwdriver? I need to take the hinges off the doors.”

  “Yup.” Allie pointed to the box of supplies.

  “Wow, you really are all over this project, aren’t you?” Cara went through the contents of the box and found the screwdriver, then proceeded to remove the upper cabinet doors with help from Barney.

  “Once we finish washing the woodwork, I can give you a hand with the walls, Allie,” Des offered.

  Allie was looking up at the ceiling. “I’m wondering if I shouldn’t paint that first.”

  They all stopped what they were doing to look up.

  “I don’t know. Won’t that be a colossal pain to do?” Barney asked. “And it really doesn’t look bad. I mean, it’s not dirty or anything.”

  “I don’t know. I feel like
we’re not doing the entire job.” Allie frowned.

  “We definitely will need a ladder for that,” Cara said. “If you’re just going to the top of the wall, you can do that with a roller, maybe stand on a chair to do that upper part near the ceiling. But I think you need a ladder.”

  “One thing I do not have,” Barney said.

  “We can get one from Joe.” Cara pulled her phone from her pocket and speed-dialed. Within less than a half hour, Joe had delivered and set up a ladder for Allie.

  “Want some help?” he said after he’d looked over the scope of their work.

  “I think we’re good, but thanks.” Allie didn’t wait for anyone else to respond.

  “If you need me, you know where to find me.” Joe gave Cara’s shoulder a squeeze before heading out the back door to his truck.

  “Nice to have a handy guy on call,” Barney noted.

  “Nice to have any guy on call,” Des agreed.

  “Depends on the guy.” Allie turned on her iPhone and hit her favorite playlist, which contained mostly upbeat numbers favored by Nikki. “Music to work by, ladies. Feel free to sing along.”

  And they did sing along, to Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, Pink, Katy Perry.

  “I don’t know any of those singers,” Barney announced. “Except for the Swift girl. Did you know she’s from right down around Reading?”

  By late afternoon, the cabinet doors had all been washed and stood upright in front of the fireplace and along a wall to dry. The ceiling and one wall had been painted, all the woodwork had been washed and had dried, and three doors had been painted.

  “It has to be about a hundred degrees in here.” Allie pulled her hair into as high a ponytail as it would go.

  “A hundred and twenty, easy.” Des leaned against the counter.

  Barney put down the paint sprayer. “Girls, stop what you’re doing, we’re wrapping it up for today. You’ve got thirty minutes to clean up. We’re going out for dinner.”

  “That sounded like the closing whistle to me,” Des said. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” She put down her paintbrush.