“Of course I want the girls to be in the wedding. Everything’s so much more involved now than when I married your father. I wore a nice dress I already had. I did my own makeup, fixed my own hair. I didn’t dream of doing anything else.” She paused. “I guess I’ll need your guidance—will you be my maid of honor?” she asked. If her daughter was this excited about her wedding, she wasn’t going to throw cold water on her ideas. Why not let Susan have some fun with it?
“Oh, Mom, of course! I know I’ve been busy, but I want to help any way I can. I’ve started Pinterest boards for everything—your gown, John’s tux, the decorations, the girls’ dresses. And I’ll get one set up for me now, too. It takes at least eight weeks to order a dress, so we need to decide on them fast.”
“You’ve been busy on this.”
“I’ve been working on them since we talked on New Year’s Day. I pin things while I’m talking to Aaron on the phone—he’s working and studying for his boards and this trial’s been eating up a lot of my time, so we’re both too exhausted to do much of anything. And I usually pin a few before I fall asleep in bed. I’ve got about two thousand images already.”
“Holy cow. You have been busy, honey. I’m not sure I have time to look through all of them.”
“That’s okay, Mom. I’m doing this mainly because it’s fun. I’ll send you any that I really want you to see.”
“Perfect.”
“I also have some makeup ideas for you. You’ll need to have a couple of trial sessions with makeup artists before you pick one. Expect to pay about two hundred fifty dollars for each trial.”
“What? That’s crazy. There’s not much anyone can do with this old mug of mine. I’m not sure that Westbury has anyone who claims to be a makeup artist, anyway.”
“Westbury has to have a makeup counter. We’ll find it when I’m there for the carnival this spring. Maybe I should start a Pinterest page for the carnival. How’s that coming along?”
“Other than the date and that it’s being held at Rosemont, I have no idea. The same people are working on it again this year. Tim Knudsen’s been soliciting donations, and George Holmes has added some new games. It was so successful last year that I’m not worrying about it.”
“That’s a first, Mom. Good for you. You’ve got your hands full as mayor.”
“I’m so glad that you’re all coming for it. Why don’t we carve out a day while you’re here and devote it to wedding planning? We’ll pick out our dresses, and you can drag me to the makeup counter.”
“Genius plan. Let’s do it. And set up a cake tasting at Laura’s, too.”
“The twins will love that. We’ll let them choose. I’ll get it all arranged. I can hardly wait to have you here again. Are things still good between you and Aaron?”
“Sure. I just didn’t know being in a relationship could be so lonely—we barely see each other. But I’m fine. I’ve got Pinterest and your wedding to help me cope.”
“You can call me anytime. You know that.”
Chapter 43
Maggie Martin dabbed at her nose with a wad of tissues and juggled a large plaque as she waited for the elevator to take her to the first floor of Town Hall and the large employee break room where a retirement reception was in full swing for the Vital Records clerk. The eighty-two-year-old woman was retiring after sixty years of service—a record for the town, as far as anyone knew. Maggie should have made her way downstairs an hour ago, but this cold had settled upon her like shrink wrap and she didn’t have the energy or inclination to be social.
Maggie scanned the row of offices on the executive floor. All doors were firmly shut except the third from the end. Could Frank Haynes be at Town Hall this afternoon?
Maggie made her way down the hall, and a coughing spell announced her presence before she could knock. Haynes swiveled in his chair and looked up.
“Good grief, Maggie. You should be home in bed. What are you doing here?”
“I agree. I feel terrible. I think I’ve got a fever,” she managed between coughs. “I stayed to present this plaque to the Vital Records clerk. She’s retiring after sixty years. And all the town is doing for her is giving her a plaque and a little punch-and-cookies reception in the break room.”
Haynes became suddenly attentive. “Would you like me to deliver it to her?”
“Would you, Frank? I’d really appreciate it. I need to get out of here. And I don’t want to give her this nasty cold. Some sendoff that would be.”
“I’d be delighted to. Just leave it there at the end of my desk,” he said, pointing and reaching for his package of sanitizing wipes.
“Good idea, that,” Maggie said, eyeing the wipes.
“What time is the reception?”
“Now, I’m afraid. They’re waiting for you.”
Haynes looked at his watch. “It’s almost five. If no one else is doing anything for her, I’ll take her to dinner. How would that be?”
“Very thoughtful, Frank. I’m sure she’d love that,” she said, eyeing him curiously. She wished she knew what caused the nice Frank Haynes to come out of hiding.
Haynes finished sterilizing the plaque, grabbed his coat from the hanger on the back of his door, and turned out his light. “I’ll make your excuses for you. Why don’t you duck out the back?”
***
Frank Haynes strode into the break room as the crowd began to thin, leaving the remaining two employees of the Vital Records Office and a handful of other senior staff to witness his presentation to the clerk. Haynes rose to the occasion and made flattering, if generic, comments about her exemplary dedication to duty and leadership of her office. The woman flushed and seemed genuinely pleased with the recognition.
Haynes stepped aside to allow her to receive the well wishes of her coworkers. When they were alone, he asked if she would like help carrying the plaque and her small box of personal items to her car.
“I don’t drive anymore, Mr. Haynes,” she said. “I’m going to wrangle this home on the bus.”
“Nonsense. I won’t hear of it. Let me give you a ride home, please. In fact, I’d like to take you to dinner, on behalf of the council,” he added, “to thank you for your service.”
“Well,” she hesitated. “That would be very nice.”
“That’ll give me a chance to hear all about the department that you’ve run so well for over half a century. Imagine that,” he said. And to probe what she might know about the possible theft of his mother’s birth certificate from the Vital Records Office. Fate might have delivered into his hands the perfect person to answer his questions about the Vital Records Office at the time of Hector Martin’s death.
***
Frank Haynes asked Pete to show them to a quiet booth where they could talk. He held the clerk’s chair and insisted that she have a glass of wine to celebrate her retirement. Alcohol always oiled the tongue. He ordered a seafood appetizer to share, and the clerk gasped. “We can’t eat all of that. And it’s so expensive.”
“Don’t worry about the cost. Pete can box up anything that’s left over, and you can take it home. What are the most unusual things you can remember happening in your department?” he asked.
“The change over from typed index cards to the computer system was traumatic, to say the least. It was wonderful, though. I always thought it would be, you know. I wasn’t one of those who feared change. Oh, no. Not me. Why …”
Haynes stifled a yawn and refilled her glass. He’d let her ramble, then steer her to the time period around Hector Martin’s death. He finally found his opening as the waiters placed their entrees in front of them.
“What about the months after Hector Martin died? I heard there were some real issues then,” he said, baiting his hook.
“Well,” she paused, leaning over the table toward him and lowering her voice. “I should say so. That lawyer from Chicago came in as we were closing. I told him he’d have to come back the next day. I always closed the department on time. You could set your w
atch by the hours we kept,” she said proudly.
Haynes nodded.
“He pleaded with me to let him get in. Said it would only take a moment. That his wife was pregnant and about to deliver. He needed to drive home that night.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Why’d he come in the first place if his wife was about to give birth any moment?—that’s what I want to know,” she said. “Anyway, I let him in—for just a few minutes, mind you. And he was quick about his business. Thanked me profusely, and he was gone. I locked up and went home.”
“That’s all?” Haynes asked, stifling his disappointment.
“No—that’s not all. Don’t you remember? That’s the night that the fire broke out and destroyed all of our paper records. The fire examiner said it smoldered for hours before the alarm came in. Most of our records had been put onto the computer by then, and we backed up our systems, so the damage wasn’t great. But the real old stuff hadn’t been scanned and it was all lost.”
“I don’t remember hearing about this.”
The woman shrugged. “It didn’t get much attention. They blamed it on faulty wiring and figured we lost a bunch of old stuff that we didn’t need anyway. The council at the time was delighted to save the money it would have taken to get all of those old records onto the computer.”
“So what was lost?”
“Everything before 1951.” She shook her head. “To this day, I think something fishy went on that night.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that attorney took something out of the records and set that fire to cover his tracks. I tried to tell the fire chief that, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
Haynes nodded. “You might be right,” he said. He needed time to think this through. He signaled to Pete to bring him the check. “I’ve imposed on you long enough, but I’ve really enjoyed our conversation. May I call you again sometime to hear more?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Of course you can. You’ll know where to find me when you drop me off.”
***
“I’m glad you called, Mr. Haynes. I was just finishing a letter to you,” Simon Wilkens said. “Your grandfather’s law firm cooperated with us—after a bit of gentle persuasion,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “They sent an attorney to the Vital Records Office in Westbury before they closed the estate. He didn’t find the birth certificate that you provided to me. It wasn’t part of the official records.”
“So that means they weren’t negligent in handling the estate?”
“Precisely.”
“Unless the attorney stole the birth certificate.”
“That seems very far-fetched, Mr. Haynes,” Simon Wilkens said. “Malpractice is one thing; malfeasance is quite another.”
“I called you, Simon, to report a very interesting conversation I had with Westbury’s Vital Records clerk. Former Vital Records clerk, actually. She just retired after sixty years in that office. I took her to dinner last night to celebrate her last day and a few glasses of wine loosened her up nicely.”
“What did she say to convince you that this lawyer expunged the birth certificate from the public record?”
“She remembers an attorney from Chicago who begged her to let him have access to the records at closing time. He used some sob story about his wife being about to give birth and he couldn’t spend the night in Westbury—he had to get home. She remembers that he was only there for a few minutes and that a fire broke out later that night. They were in the process of scanning records into the computer but hadn’t gotten to any of them dated before 1951. All of the records prior to that year were destroyed.”
“That’s quite a story. Did they conclude it was arson?”
“She says that the town council was relieved they didn’t need to spend any more money scanning old records and dropped the matter. The fire marshal wasn’t interested in her mystery man from Chicago.”
“There’s nothing to connect this to your case,” Wilkens added.
“Except the timing. She remembers that it was shortly after Hector Martin died.”
Wilkens was silent, digesting the information. “If we could prove that the estate’s attorney was paid off by Paul Martin, we’d have a case to bring against the firm and Paul’s heirs. It seems like a very long shot.”
“I’ll work on getting the evidence,” Haynes said. “I’ll use my connections here in Westbury. Sit tight and I’ll get back to you.”
“Remember to stay on the right side of the law, Mr. Haynes,” he admonished. “Even smart people do stupid things when a lot of money is involved.”
“You don’t have to worry about me getting caught on the wrong side of the law,” Haynes assured him as he hung up the phone.
He wouldn’t step across that line again.
Westbury was a small town, and people in small towns talked. Secrets that had been buried for decades could be uncovered. Or so he hoped.
Chapter 44
“Come on, sweetie, it’s time to get up now. I’ve already let you sleep an extra half hour. You’ll make everybody late if you don’t get moving,” Loretta said as she brushed the hair from Nicole’s damp brow.
She turned on the bedside lamp and carefully regarded her daughter’s upturned face. She wasn’t seeing miraculous effects from prednisone. If anything, her eyes seemed puffier. She reached under the covers for one of Nicole’s hands and recoiled in alarm. It was swollen to almost double its size.
Loretta stood quickly. “You’re not going to school today, honey. I think we need to see the doctor again.”
Nicole nodded.
“We’ll drop the big kids off at school first.” Loretta slid Nicole’s feet to the side of the bed and inserted them into her fuzzy pink slippers. “You can stay in your jammies. We’ll put your coat over them.”
Marissa and Sean were waiting quietly by the door when Loretta came slowly down the stairs, Nicole leaning heavily against her.
Marissa turned scared eyes on her sister. “Again?” she asked.
“It’ll be okay,” Loretta said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “She just needs a change in medication. It’s a very common thing.”
Marissa nodded, but Loretta could tell that she didn’t believe her.
Traffic was light, and she dropped her older children at school just before the first bell. She placed a call to Nicole’s doctor and detailed her condition for the nurse. “We’re double-booked this morning, Ms. Nash. Based upon what you’ve described, I think you should take her to the emergency room at Mercy Hospital.”
Loretta clamped down on the panic rising inside her. “We’re on our way,” she said.
“One of our doctors is making rounds there now. I’ll tell him you’ll be there soon.”
***
Loretta and Nicole were once more in a private room on the third floor. The staff needed to perform some tests and would probably change her medication. The doctor expected to discharge her that afternoon or the next morning, at the latest.
Nicole endured all the poking and prodding without complaint and was now napping in front of the television. Loretta realized she’d forgotten to call Mr. Haynes to tell him she wouldn’t be at work. She grabbed her purse and tiptoed out of the room to find Nicole’s nurse. “I have to go to work for a few minutes. Would that be okay?”
“Parents have to do it all the time around here. Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll take good care of Nicole, and we’ll call you if we need you.”
“I’ve been absent so much—I can’t afford to lose my job.”
The nurse squeezed her hand. “You’re fine. Don’t feel guilty about it, either. Just drive safely. And if you’re not back by the time I leave, I’ll tell my replacement.”
Loretta smiled, squeezing the woman’s hand back and thinking, Sometimes an ounce of kindness is all we need to sustain us.
***
Loretta walked into Haynes Enterprises to find her boss seated at her desk, preparing the previous day’s bank
deposit. The sight pulled her up short. She knew he hated covering for her.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Haynes,” she blurted out. “Nicole got worse, and she’s in the hospital again. I just came from there.”
Frank Haynes took in her disheveled appearance and the heavy bags under her eyes and swallowed the retort that had been on his lips. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied.
Loretta cocked her head. Had she heard him correctly?
“I can do that,” she said, stepping behind her desk and gesturing to him to get up. “She’s had all her tests and is napping. The nurse will call me when I need to go back.” She looked at Frank Haynes, who now stood awkwardly on the other side of her desk. “This job is very important to me and my family, Mr. Haynes. I don’t know what I’d do without it. And I’m truly sorry that I’ve been absent so much. With just the two of us here, I know it makes things hard. I’ll be here whenever I can.”
Haynes remained where he was and fiddled with the jar of pens on her desk. “I know that, Loretta. You’ve done a very good job since you’ve been here.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “I hope your little girl gets better soon. Stay as long as you like today, and let me know when the deposit is ready. I’ll run it over to the bank.” He retreated to his office and closed the door. If he had turned around, he would have seen Loretta staring at him, eyes wide, as if she’d witnessed a miracle.
***
Loretta worked at a blistering pace for the next several hours. After Frank Haynes had shown her such compassion, she wanted to do her best for him. It was almost four when she poked her head around his door to tell him she was leaving. “The hospital called. They said that they think the doctor will discharge her by dinnertime.”
Haynes nodded. “You’d better go.”
Loretta walked into Nicole’s room twenty minutes later. The bed was empty, and there was no sign of Nicole. She raced to the nurse’s station where a woman she didn’t recognize rose to meet her. “Are you Nicole’s mama?” she asked. Loretta nodded, her eyes wide with fear. “Don’t worry—she’s fine. We’ve got a visit from a therapy dog goin’ on in the children’s lounge. The kids love it. She was well enough, so I took her down there.” The woman pointed to a room at the end of the wing. “Go take a look.”
Uncovering Secrets: The Third Novel in the Rosemont Series Page 17
