Mark’s warning loomed: Gordon’s presence was making the situation worse. He had to do this right. There had been enough pain between him and Minnie. He wanted everything to be the way it should have been.
A painting on the wall in front of him showed King Arthur’s Round Table, with several knights and ladies standing beside the chairs circling it. Each knight or lady was labeled with a donor’s name—many of his mother’s contemporaries, but her name wasn’t there.
A sound like a class of kindergarteners at recess approached the drawbridge. Edith and another woman crossed under the archway behind two sprinting children. The other woman called after the boy to walk, while the little girl screeched about needing a car book right away. She punctuated her demand with a stomp of her foot. The woman, whom Gordon assumed was her grandmother, escorted the child to a built-in display under a faux stone archway.
Edith looked Gordon’s way, then she glanced toward the other woman and children, who had settled on the cushions piled under the archway. The little girl clamped a tall conical hat with a plume of blue tulle on her head. Edith gestured toward him. The other woman nodded in agreement, then Edith headed toward him with the determination of a shark on the scent of blood.
She nodded at the mural and said, “Your mother’s picture belongs up there.”
“Yes, it does.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Since I’ve heard you have enough moolah to buy out Main Street, perhaps you’d like to make a donation toward the security system? I’m sure we could work something out to get her name up there. It might not be enough to get her picture on the wall, but we could sure use the help.”
He’d gotten used to the requests for money. Once it was general knowledge how many digits were in your bank account balance, those requests came frequently and often without preamble. But he gave Edith his full attention. “Gossip certainly hasn’t changed in Carterville. But why does the library need a security system? I’ve heard it has much more serious financial problems. Has Carterville become a dangerous place?”
“Not that kind of security. It’s for the books and videos and stuff. They stick these little radio tags in them, and it makes it easier for the library clerks to check books out. If someone tries to take a book out of the building without checking it out, sirens go off and the police arrive with guns blazing.”
“That seems a little extreme.”
Edith propped her hands on her hips. “Theft is serious business.”
“Indeed, it is.”
“I think there’s panic buttons for the staff too. If they have an unruly patron, they can push it and it signals the director.” Edith paused for a moment. “No, you’re right, I have it switched around. The police come when the panic buttons are pressed, but that’s on the premium system.”
“You aren’t getting that?” Gordon asked.
“Well, no. This was the bare-minimum we can afford. The director believes the system will save money in the long run. It will make circulation statistics easier to track and evaluate for grant writing. Tax money is decreasing every year, and she spends more and more of her time writing grants. The security system will help every penny go a little farther.”
Gordon nodded. Edith was giving him the whole spiel. “It sounds like it will help the library make the best use of its resources. But why aren’t you addressing the larger funding deficits?” The library had needs in every direction, and he wanted to fund it in a lasting way. Not just with this one project.
Edith yanked her purse on her shoulder and crossed her arms. “The Friends of the Library is a vibrant organization, but our fundraising abilities are limited to individual projects. We don’t have the manpower or financial backing to launch a huge campaign. We’ve tossed around the idea of establishing an endowment fund for the library, but we’d need some large donors to get the ball rolling.” She arched an eyebrow at him, but before she could continue, the song “Love Shack” erupted from her purse. She yanked her phone out. “I thought I switched it to a beep. Oh, it’s Minnie. Hello.” She tapped the touch screen and Minnie’s voice cackled out.
“I had the best idea for a fundraiser. Why don’t we have a haunted house party? Ghosts, goblins, mummies, the works. We’d have to scramble, but if we had it on Halloween, next Saturday, people would flock to it.”
Edith glanced at Gordon. He debated whether he should step away to give them some privacy, but Edith had the phone on speaker, and the conversation could probably be heard in the parking lot. He stayed.
“Sounds fabulous,” Edith said. “I’ve got a recipe for making fake blood, and we could do bowls of cold noodles for brains. And you’ve already got a creepy sounds CD, the dry ice machine, and cobwebby cotton stuff for uh, cobwebs. And I know an Elvis impersonator! We’re halfway there already.”
He’d been following Edith’s line of thought until she got to the Elvis impersonator. He wasn’t sure why Elvis popped into Edith’s head when she thought of a haunted house.
“I’m sure the paranormal investigators could give us some ideas, too,” Minnie’s voice squawked. “We just need a location, and to get started with the planning.”
“Why not the Bower?” Edith yelled into the phone. Gordon wondered if she knew the new technology worked a little better than two cans and a string.
Minnie sighed. “As creepy as the various holes in the wall are, the fire marshal won’t let me host a party here without the sprinklers working, and Mark says he can’t turn them on until all the pipes are replaced. The fire marshal says I have two weeks to get the sprinklers working or I have to kick my guests out.”
Gordon sensed the sadness in her voice. She didn’t have the money to make the repairs. She would have to close. The gloom filling his own heart shouldn’t have surprised him. The Bower was essential to the community, and Minnie had made it everything he wanted it to be.
“So what other places could we rent without taking a big chunk out of the donations?” Minnie asked.
The wheels in Gordon’s brain started spinning. He didn’t want the Bower to close any more than Minnie did, and he knew the haunted house held the solution. She’d given him a sketch of a plan that he could put into motion. A haunted house would draw people from all places in the community. The kids would have a blast with the ghouls and goblins. The biggest hurdle: convincing Minnie to let him fund the repairs and the party. He gestured to Edith to let him speak.
She misunderstood. “What about having it at the library?”
“Without the security system, it would be a nightmare for the staff,” Minnie said. “People could walk off with books left and right.”
Gordon cleared his throat.
“I think Gordon wants to say something.” Edith tipped the phone his way.
“Gordon? What’s he doing there?” There was no missing the irritation in her voice. Gordon suddenly wished he’d run for the archway as soon as “Tin-roof rusted!” had blared from Edith’s phone.
“I’m at the library,” Edith replied. “I think Gordon may have an idea.”
“Oh. Put him on then,” she huffed in a let’s-get-this-over-with voice.
Gordon shifted, and then glanced at Edith. He hadn’t been asking to speak directly to Minnie. Discomfort traveled through his stomach at the thought. He wanted to face her with a game plan, so he didn’t say the wrong thing in the wrong way again. Nor did he want to say any of it in front of anyone, let alone Edith, who would broadcast it across town within minutes.
She jabbed the phone toward him. He took a deep breath and spoke slowly, praying everything came out the way it was supposed to—in a non-offensive way. “I would be willing to cover the costs of preparing the Bower, as well as any costs associated with the haunted house.” He paused. Edith nodded encouragingly. He continued. “On two conditions.”
There was silence on the phone, but Edith didn’t seem perturbed by it. He was afraid she might jab him in the side, so he went on before Minnie responded. “First, the haunted house
should be used to establish an endowment for the library.”
Now Minnie interrupted. “We can’t raise enough money for an endowment with just one event. It’d have to be a longer campaign, and we’ve already discussed that. The hospital recently wrapped up a drive to update their mammography unit. We don’t want people to feel tapped from every direction.”
“But if you have a donor who would be willing to match each gift two-to-one, you’ll attract more individual donations.” His business acumen was coming back. Words were forming the way they were supposed to. Excitement glimmered.
“And who would do that?” Minnie sniffed.
Gordon let her stew on that for a moment. He knew she understood what he was saying.
“Well, I suppose if you’re planning to purchase all of Carterville, you might as well own part of the library too.”
He winced. He deserved that, and he knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he couldn’t explain everything with Edith listening. If he tried, it’d go around town that he’d locked his mother in an asylum and sold everything she owned to buy his Cadillac. “My second request is the endowment be named the Helen Crocker Anderson Fund, after my mother.”
Edith spoke before Minnie had a chance. “We’d have to run it by the library board, but I don’t think that will be a problem. Minnie, can you arrange a committee meeting tomorrow, so we can get this ball rolling?”
Minnie agreed and hung up.
Everything in his chest felt lighter. He had a chance to help Minnie restore the Lilac Bower and keep it as the place in the community it was meant to be. He’d navigate his way out of this mess yet. He extracted his checkbook from his jacket, and filled out a check addressed to the Friends of the Library. He handed it to Edith. “Use this to get the party and advertising started. Let me know if you need more.” He was pretty sure there was enough to cover the costs of the plumbing work Minnie would need in order to host the party.
“Thank you.” Edith folded the check and tucked it in her handbag. Her friend and her grandchildren were quietly ensconced on one of the couches sorting through a stack of books. She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “Are you still trying to buy your old home?”
Gordon debated about how much of his hand he should reveal. He tilted his head toward Edith. “The offer is still on the table.” He hadn’t spoken with his lawyer yet, so it was technically true. He simply had no intention of pursuing it.
Edith sighed and lowered her voice. “You and Minnie seemed so right for each other. You should talk, get it all out in the open and see where it goes.” She patted Gordon’s arm.
How could she echo exactly what he was thinking? “Some things are best left as they are,” he muttered. As much as he wanted it to be different, as much as he longed to erase the years of heartache, he couldn’t allow himself to hope until the library project was completed. Until he proved to Minnie they shouldn’t spend another minute of their lives apart.
Edith shook her head. “You should have answered her letters.” She studied a seam in the carpet, then met his gaze. “Gordon, that was so long ago. It can’t be changed. You have to accept it and move forward.”
Edith was the last person he wanted to talk to about this. Her relationship with Minnie, her propensity for always getting the story wrong–all around, it was a bad idea. “I wrote when I could. My family’s situation made it difficult. She stopped writing to me.” The admission hurt. Telling Edith Minnie had abandoned him when he’d needed her most felt like confessing a fatal weakness to the enemy. “I only received one letter from her.”
If he could do it all over again, he’d write her every single day. Even after she’d stopped writing back. Even after she returned from the Philippines. If he could do it all over again, he would have searched for her. He would have haunted every place he could have ever hoped to meet her, waiting for her turn up. Ready to beg her to take him back.
Edith’s penciled-in eyebrows almost shot off her forehead. “Only one?”
“Dated right after she arrived. It took months for it to come through, with the forwarding and such.”
Edith’s face went pale. “Then you didn’t—she said you didn’t care.”
“Didn’t care about what? What else did she say?” Gordon’s heart pounded and he began to feel frantic. What had he missed?
Edith glanced at Dinah again, then crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s it. That’s all she would tell me.”
Gordon wanted to grab Edith and shake her. He needed every detail to explain what had happened. His history with Minnie was unfolding in a more complicated pattern than he’d seen so long ago. Had something happened to Minnie while she’d been in the Philippines? “Tell me everything you know. Tell me why she stopped writing to me.”
Edith swayed from foot to foot, like she was preparing to dash for the drawbridge. She knew more than she was telling. Whatever this was, his gut said it was the key to reestablishing his relationship with Minnie.
Edith’s eyes glistened, worrying Gordon even more. How bad was it? “You need to talk to Minnie,” was all she said.
He’d come to the library to find his bearings with Minnie, and now he’d been sidetracked with a whole other set of problems. He was too old to waste time he might never have. Halloween was only a week away. Would he have enough time to set things right with Minnie?
14
“Gordon, I have to come back,” his mother pleaded into the phone. “My bags are packed. I’m ready whenever you say I can come.”
Gordon eased back in the desk chair in his suite at the Bower. The room Minnie had moved him into had been a guest room when he’d lived here. It now had a travelers’ theme. Yellowed maps were tacked to the walls, decorated with pushpins and strings. A battered suitcase with a dozen tags for foreign destinations wrapped around its worn handle sat on a shelf in the corner. The desk itself was exactly what he’d imagine Shackleton or Polo using as they chronicled their adventures in their journals.
His mother’s tone sickened him. She hadn’t been this adamant about anything since she’d needed a nurse and suggested he marry one, an idea he’d found ridiculous. He couldn’t bring her back to the Bower permanently, but he did have good news for her. He hoped it would be enough to ease the anxiety that plagued her. “There isn’t a price that will entice Minnie to sell.”
“Minnie?” It was quiet on the other end of the line while Gordon waited for his mother to recall who Minnie was. “That girl who joined the Peace Corps?”
“Yes. Remember, we were engaged?” He hated needling his mother’s fragile memory like this, but he needed her to understand why he wasn’t going to be able to buy the property.
She gasped. “I was supposed to send her a care package and organize a shipment of supplies!”
Another promise to Minnie the Andersons had broken. No wonder she’d slammed the door in his face. Each day he was more surprised she hadn’t pushed him across the porch, down the stairs, and into oncoming traffic.
“Why didn’t you marry her?” she asked. Then she whispered, “Because you married Ann. For me. Oh Gordon, I’m so sorry. Something else that’s all my fault.”
“How could it be your fault?” He’d been the one unable to find a better solution. He was the one who hadn’t written to Minnie often enough. He was the one who hadn’t tried to contact her after her scheduled return. He was the one who’d let fifty years slip by. It was his fault. “Dad died. We moved and I lost touch with Minnie. It’s as simple as that.”
“Gordon, I have to come back. I have to make it right and pay it all back. If you don’t come and get me, I’ll force Marie to drive me.”
He didn’t know what she was talking about. What did she have to pay back? They’d given everything to the community. Through Father’s mismanagement of their finances, they’d given until it hurt. “I’ve already told you, I won’t buy the Bower from Minnie. Mom, she’s made it the place you always wanted it to be.” And it would stay that way, provided Minnie
didn’t tear up the check he’d written for the benefit. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you about, though. I think you’ll like it.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m working with the Friends of the Library to start an endowment fund for the library.” He described the additions to the library, how the community supported it, and the institution’s continuing struggle with funding. “We’re holding a benefit at the Bower on Halloween and I’ve agreed to match every donation two to one. I wanted to do a matching grant because it was what I remember you doing.”
“That’s lovely, Gordon. I can’t wait to see the new building.”
“If you’re feeling all right, perhaps you can come for the benefit. It would be fitting to have you there.”
His mother interrupted him, something her strict adherence to etiquette rarely allowed her to do. “I would like that, Gordon. When can I come?”
“It will take some time to get the Bower ready for the benefit.” He figured she didn’t need to know the details of the plumbing problems. “I’ll talk with Marie about travel plans. There’s one more thing. They’ve agreed to name the endowment after you: The Helen Crocker Anderson Fund.”
“What? No. No. NO. Gordon, they can’t.” Her words were split between short gasps.
Gordon hadn’t expected a negative reaction. He’d have thought she would be flattered to have the community name something so important after her. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
“If I deserved it, I would be pleased. But I don’t, and I’m not. It isn’t right. The fund shouldn’t be dedicated to me. I should be begging for forgiveness.” Her breathing grew choppy.
He didn’t understand. She’d helped the community so much. It was only right she be honored. “Who else has done so much for the library, and for Carterville as a whole?”
Hauntings of the Heart Page 15
