The Sugarhouse Blues

by Mariah Stewart

  “Hey, you can’t leave that there,” Allie pointed out. “Clean off the brush.” She pointed to the sink. “This paint cleans up with water.”

  “Okay, make it forty minutes,” Barney said. “Allowing for cleanup here first.”

  “I’m done and headed for the shower,” Cara announced before taking off for the back steps.

  “I’m right behind you.” Allie finished washing her brush, then laid it on newspaper they’d used to cover the kitchen table. She turned off the music, then wandered out of the kitchen checking her phone for messages.

  “Go on, Barney. I’ll finish up here,” Des told her.

  “You sure?”

  “Yup. I’ll just be a minute more.”

  The kitchen had gone from a chatty space filled with music and singing to silence. Des finished cleaning the brushes and rinsed out the sprayer, checked to make sure the paint cans were tightly covered, then followed the others upstairs for a quick shower.

  It had taken more than Barney’s previously decreed forty minutes, but soon enough, all four Hudson women were assembled in the front hall, cleaner and cooler and dressed casually and comfortably. Barney wore another of her cute T-shirt dresses—this one ocean blue to match her eyes—and both Des and Cara had put on khaki shorts and striped T-shirts and had to work to keep their curls under control. Allie wore a black tank and white shorts, and her hair looked perfect. Des couldn’t help but comment as they walked out the front door.

  “Al, you know I’d kill for your hair, right?” she said.

  “Note to self: Sleep with one eye open.” Allie tossed that long sheaf of hair over one shoulder as Barney locked the door behind them and headed down the front steps to the walk. “Wait, why aren’t we driving?” Allie remained on the top step.

  “We’re only going two blocks, Allie.” Barney kept walking without turning around. “By the time I got Lucille started up and backed out of the garage, we could be there.”

  Allie groaned and muttered something about sweating to death, then followed the others.

  “Besides,” Barney continued, “Lucille’s air-conditioning has been acting up lately. I keep meaning to take her into the shop to have it fixed, but I keep forgetting.”

  “Where’s there a Cadillac dealer around here?” Des fell into step behind Barney and next to Cara.

  Barney was obviously appalled. “I wouldn’t take Lucille to a dealer. Why, those young folks they have working on cars today only know how to do what the computers tell them to do. They wouldn’t know what to do with a fine vintage automobile like Lucille. Took her into the dealer for an oil change about ten years ago and they put in the wrong kind. She wheezed like an asthmatic. Had to have her engine drained. She hasn’t seen the inside of a dealer’s garage since.”

  “Well, where do you take her?” Des asked.

  “Billy Jurczak, over on Constitution Avenue. That man understands the needs of a 1968 Cadillac DeVille. Knows his way around a V-8 engine.” Barney looked over her shoulder to Des. “No one touches Lucille except Billy.”

  Des and Cara exchanged an amused glance. Their aunt’s Cadillac convertible—complete with red leather interior—was Barney’s pride and joy. They’d heard the story several times how the car had been a gift from Barney’s father to her mother, how her mother had adored the car and drove it with a lead foot until her dementia became pronounced. It had fallen to Barney to hide the keys, “finding” them only to take her mother to the doctor or for a ride through the countryside on days when she was up to it. Everyone in Hidden Falls knew Lucille; she’d become sort of a celebrity in town.

  “Barney, I keep meaning to ask you: Who lives in that house across the street from our driveway?” Des turned to point behind them to the Tudor that sat behind a tall row of evergreens. “I never see anyone around.”

  Barney turned to look. “Oh, that’s the old Brookes place. Mrs. Brookes passed away last year, Mr. Brookes died years ago. Fifteen maybe? Anyway, it’s been awhile. They were both buried in Maryland, where they were from originally. All the services were there. Mrs. Brookes kept up the house as long as she could, bless her heart. She was a lovely woman.”

  “Who lives there now?” Des asked.

  “No one. I think the children—Thomas, Emily, and Stephen—jointly inherited the property, but last I heard Emily’s living in London with her family, Stephen died in Vietnam, and Thomas . . . he joined the army after his brother was killed. Career officer, retired now, I’m sure. I haven’t seen him in years.”

  She resumed walking.

  “So the house is just sitting there?” Des was the last to catch up with the others.

  “Until someone comes along to empty it, or sell it, I suppose it will.”

  “You must have known the family well. They lived right there. You were neighbors.” For some reason, Des wasn’t finished with the Brookeses.

  “Of course I knew them well. Thomas and Gil were the same age and good friends, Emily was in my grade, and Stephen and your father were classmates. He and Fritz and Pete were inseparable for years. I checked in with Mrs. Brookes frequently over the years. She and my mother played cards together.”

  “Were you and Emily good friends?”

  Barney didn’t respond immediately. Finally, she said simply, “For a time.”

  They’d reached the corner of Main and Hudson, where the light was still green.

  “Hurry up, and we’ll make it before the light turns red,” Barney told them. “I’m hoping it’s not too late for us to get a good table at the Goodbye.”

  The Goodbye Café, so called because it had the reputation of being the place where you’d take your significant other to give them the news that they’d lost their significance, was one of only two restaurants in Hidden Falls—the other was the Hudson Diner—and the only one that understood what “farm to table” and “locally sourced” meant. The real name of the restaurant was the Green Brier Café, but only visitors to the town referred to it as such. The owner, Judy Worrell, was amused by its nickname, and even she referred to it as the Goodbye.

  Tonight Judy was at the door greeting guests.

  “Hello, girls. Barney, you’re looking well.” Judy smiled as they entered. “Four for dinner?”

  “Yes,” Barney told her. “We’ve come for a delicious meal in air-conditioned comfort. It’s nice and cool in here, so we’re halfway to our goal.”

  “Everything here is delicious, as you well know.” Judy handed Barney four menus and flagged down a waitress. “Table for four. Enjoy, ladies. Barney, I’ll need to talk to you before you leave.”

  “Oh? What’s up?” Barney paused midstep.

  “Some complications with Fourth of July. We’ll talk after you’ve eaten.”

  Barney nodded and followed their waitress to their table.

  “What happens on Fourth of July?” Des asked as they seated themselves.

  “The usual hoopla that small towns all do. Parade complete with marching bands in the morning followed by games for kids at the park. Home barbecues. Fireworks at night. It’s the same every year. Probably the same everywhere else, too.” Barney began to read the menu.

  “That’s July Fourth in Devlin’s Light exactly. I always loved those days.” Cara pulled her chair closer to the table to permit a waiter to pass behind her.

  “Same back in Cross Creek,” Des told them. “So very traditional and fun. Classic USA.” Des turned to Allie. “I don’t remember much hoopla when we were growing up, but how ’bout in L.A. these days? Parades? Fireworks?”

  Allie shrugged. “I suppose. I’m guessing there were parades. I might have seen one on TV one time.”

  “Are you telling us you never went to a Fourth of July parade?” Barney looked horrified.

  “That’s what I said, yes.” Allie didn’t raise her eyes from the menu.

  “You never took Nikki to a parade?”

  Allie shrugged. “What can I say? Clint hated that sort of thing, so we never went.”

 
; “So Nikki never took part in a parade or . . .”

  “Unless she went with a friend sometime. Maybe she did. I don’t remember.” Allie focused her attention on the menu. “The Cobb salad with grilled chicken looks decent.”

  “I think I’ll go with that, too.” Vegetarian Cara added, “Without the chicken.”

  “Well, Nikki’s going to get the full treatment this year.” Barney put her menu down. “Maybe there’s even a place for her in the parade, you never know.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to death to hear it.” Allie finally looked up. “Everyone ready to order?”

  True to her word, Judy showed up at the table as soon as everyone finished their meals.

  “So how was everything?” She stood behind Barney and surveyed the table.

  “Great,” everyone agreed.

  Judy pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat between Barney and Des. “So here’s where we are for the Fourth. You know how Dan Hunter usually drives his classic Model-T Ford at the front of the parade?”

  Barney nodded. “Been doing that for years. His father drove that car before him. I can’t remember when that old car wasn’t out there leading the parade.”

  “Well, it won’t be this year. Maybe never again. Something’s wrong with the engine—it needs some part or other—and Dan hasn’t been able to find a replacement. So unless he’s able to find that part, and someone with the know-how to replace it, we’re without a classic car to start off the parade.” Judy stared meaningfully at Barney.

  “You want Lucille.”

  Judy nodded. “We do. The committee chair called an emergency meeting last night. Ross Whalen—”

  “Cranky old coot,” Barney muttered.

  “Yeah, he is. Anyway, he offered to drive if . . .”

  Barney’s eyes grew wide, her brows reaching almost to her hairline. “Ross Whalen is not touching Lucille. No one drives her but me. No one.” She paused. “Maybe one of my girls here, eventually, but Whalen? Nope.”

  “The mayor said you’d say that. He suggested you drive.” Judy leaned back in her chair as the waitress cleared the dinner plates from the table.

  “Bless Seth for having my back.” Barney smiled.

  “So what do you say? I know you like sitting there on the corner in your folding chair, watching the parade go by while you drink your iced coffee, but . . .”

  “Oh, of course I’ll drive Lucille in the parade. And afterward, you can buy me an iced coffee.”

  “Thank you. I’ll make good on the coffee, and I’ll let the others know you’re in.” Judy stood.

  When Judy was out of earshot, Allie asked, “So what’s the big deal about driving the car in the parade?”

  “It’s an honor to lead the parade, one that’s always belonged to the Hunters, as they owned the oldest car in town,” Barney explained. “I guess that makes Lucille the second oldest.” She frowned. “The Petersons have a 1940 Dodge, but I don’t know if it still runs. And it’s not a convertible. Gotta have a convertible at the head of the parade.”

  “Why?” Des asked.

  “So you can see the dignitaries in the back seat, of course.” Barney stood. “Ready, girls?”

  Barney paid at the register while the girls filed out onto the pavement. On the walk home, they peered into store windows, waved to the passing cars, and debated what qualified one for dignitary status in Hidden Falls.

  They’d reached the sidewalk in front of the family home when a large black-and-white dog streaked across the lawn, then turned and headed directly for them.

  “Ripley!” Des braced as the dog launched himself at her. “Down, boy. Get down.” She looked up as Seth jogged toward them. “So much for all those hours we spent training him over the past few months.”

  “Down, Ripley,” Seth reprimanded his dog. “Sorry, Des.”

  “He’s all right. He’s just happy to see me.” Des pushed the dog off her. “Sit, bud. Sit.”

  The dog sat and looked up at her expectedly.

  “He thinks you’re going to give him a hamburger,” Allie said. “Like the way you did to coax him out of the theater.”

  “Ah, the old burger lure. Works every time.” Des recalled the day she lured the three dogs from the hole in the side of the exterior theater wall.

  “Seth, I appreciate you speaking up for me at the meeting last night.” Barney crossed her arms over her chest. “To think I’d ever let that fool Whalen behind the wheel of my car is ludicrous.”

  “We all knew that would never happen,” Seth said. “You will do it, though, right? You’ll lead the parade this year?”

  “Of course. It will be an honor and a pleasure.” Barney’s eyes narrowed. “But I get to pick who rides in the back seat.”

  Seth laughed. “I told them you’d say that, too. You just do your thing, Ms. Hudson. The rest of us will fall in line.”

  “You’re a good boy, Seth MacLeod.” Barney patted him on the arm and headed for the house. “You keep working on putting some manners on that dog of yours, hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

  “I have a few phone calls to make.” Cara followed Barney on the sidewalk that led to the front porch. “See you around.”

  “So do I. See you, Seth.” Allie fell in step with Cara.

  Des turned to Seth. “So where are you off to? Aren’t you a ways from your place?”

  “I was just trying to get my boy here out for some exercise.”

  “Good for all dogs, but yeah, border collies like to run.” She glanced down at Ripley, who’d plopped at Seth’s feet. “Do you want some water for him? He looks winded.”

  “I’m sure he’d appreciate it. Thanks.”

  As soon as Des and Seth turned toward the house, the dog took off up the path.

  “I guess he remembers Buttons lives here.”

  “He always pulls on his leash when we pass by,” Seth admitted. “I’m not sure whether it’s Buttons he’s looking for or you.”

  “Well, I was his first human friend here in Hidden Falls,” Des reminded him. “A little hamburger goes a long way for a starving dog.”

  “I sometimes think about what might have happened to them if you hadn’t come along when you did.”

  “Someone else would have noticed them going in and out of the wall eventually. And the bartender at the Frog was feeding them when they came around.”

  “True, but they’d have still been homeless. You got them to come out, got them to the vet, and bullied your friends until they agreed to adopt them.”

  “If I recall correctly, you stepped right up to take Ripley, and if anyone was bullied, it was Ben when you twisted his arm into taking the female.”

  “Do you believe he still hasn’t given that dog a proper name?”

  “Yeah, I think we’re going to have to shame him into doing something about that.” Des grinned. “Even Allie was giving him a hard time about his lack of imagination.”

  “Allie seems to give Ben a hard time about everything.”

  “She enjoys it. Sometimes I think my sister isn’t happy if she isn’t giving someone a bad day.”

  Ripley reached the front porch, then sniffed around the door, wagging his tale.

  “I’ll go in and get some water for him and see if Buttons wants to come out and play. Have a seat.” Des opened the front door and disappeared inside.

  When she returned, water bowl in her hands and two bottles of beer under her arm, an excited small white dog dashed past her to greet her friends, canine and human. Des placed the water bowl on the porch, but Ripley raced past it and Seth, who’d seated himself on the steps, to chase Buttons across the front lawn.

  Des handed Seth a beer and stood on the step to watch the dogs play for a moment.

  “Thanks.” He twisted off the cap and took a drink.

  “The pups look like they’re having fun.” She sat next to Seth and watched Buttons pursue Ripley up the driveway toward the carriage house.

  “Yeah, they
’re good friends. There’s no telling where they’d been or what they’d gone through together. They do have a bond.”

  The two dogs raced around the side of the house and across the lawn.

  “So did you have time to take a closer look at that projector?” she asked.

  “I did. It’s a Super Simplex XL. I’m pretty sure the body is from the 1930s or forties, but it appears to have been modified at some point, probably in the fifties or sixties. I’m guessing that’s when the Xenon lamp illumination was added.”

  She stared at him, drop-jawed. “How did you find out all that so fast?”

  Seth grinned. “Magellan Express, my favorite search engine.”

  “Do you think the projector still works?”

  “Right now, it would not. There’s a piece broken off from the shutter feed, and I’m not sure if it can be replaced.”

  “What’s a shutter feed?”

  “See if you can picture this. The film is on two reels, one near the bottom of the projector, one at the top.” He held his hands at six and twelve o’clock. “It’s fed from the bottom reel through the gate and the image is projected onto the lens, and the shutter feed moves the film onto the upper reel.”

  “What if you can’t replace the feed?”

  “There are a bunch of projectors of this vintage on eBay. We can replace it if we have to, but it would be way cooler to have the original to use in the theater.”

  “Why didn’t I think of eBay?” she said.

  “I didn’t at first, either. But there are a few of this model for sale. If you want, I’ll try to call around, see what I can find out about prices, conditions, that sort of thing.”

  “I don’t want to impose on you.” Her shoulder brushed against his upper arm, and she felt a sudden little zing where he touched her. She leaned away to rest her back against one of the porch pillars. She’d grown so comfortable in his company over time that the little bit of electricity caught her off guard.

  “It’s no imposition. I’m kind of intrigued by how it works. I’d like to learn more about how it’s put together. Besides, it’s interesting to see how projectors evolved along with the films.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind . . .” She opened her bottle and took a sip, wondering if he’d felt that . . . whatever it had been. There was no way she was going to put a name to it.