From this vantage point, he had a spectacular view not only of the town square below, but also of the countryside around Moosetookalook. In the distance he could see a good chunk of the hilly terrain of western Maine. Every shade of green was represented in the abundant vegetation.
Some folks thought the fall was prettier, when sugar maples sported crimson cloaks and elms adorned in gold vied for attention with the variously hued mantles of birches, ashes, and alders, but Dan would take the vivid greens over reds and yellows and burnt-umbers any day. Every one was distinctive. Varieties of evergreen from balsam, to pine, to the spruces for which the hotel overlooking Moosetookalook had been named, contrasted prettily with deciduous trees in all their summer finery.
Of course the hardwoods were better for furniture-making.
“Does she know you bought her old house?” Sam asked.
“I’ve got no idea.” Her parents had sold it to a college professor who’d taught at the Fallstown branch of the University of Maine. He’d since moved on. For the last year, Dan had owned the place. Eventually, he meant to turn the downstairs into a furniture showroom where he could sell the hand-crafted pieces he made in his spare time.
“You surprised she came back?” Sam snugged the ball-cap back into place.
Dan shrugged, still watching the car. “Ten years ago I’d have bet money she wouldn’t. ‘Never coming back,’ she said when she left. Sure sounded like she meant it.”
“Teenagers say a lot of things they later regret.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Do ’em, too. The way I remember it, you once had a wicked crush on Liss MacCrimmon.”
“Yeah. In third grade. Showed my affection by putting a snake in her desk. She paid me back by stuffing it down the front of my shirt.”
He’d still been attracted to her when they were fifteen or so, but Liss hadn’t seemed to return his interest. He’d ended up going steady with Karen Cloutier instead. Karen had been cheerleader to his basketball player the last two years of high school. Perfect match, everyone had said. Too bad she turned so crazy jealous every time he even spoke to another girl. He wondered what had happened to Karen. They’d gone off to different colleges after graduation and lost touch. He hadn’t thought about her in years.
He had thought about Liss MacCrimmon. Thanks to Margaret Boyd, he’d gotten periodic updates. The latest news was that Liss had taken a fall and banged up her knee pretty bad and that Margaret had invited her to Moosetookalook to finish recuperating.
“Why don’t you go on down and join the welcoming committee?” Sam suggested with a knowing grin. “I can finish repointing the chimney.”
Dan shook his head. “I don’t like crowds.”
As soon as Liss parked her car, her aunt came bustling out of Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. A plump woman in her late fifties, she wore one of her trademark Scottish outfits, a white dress with a tartan sash. Her son Ned was right behind her. He was not one of Dan’s favorite people. And Amanda Norris had popped out onto the porch of the house next door, one of the few in the area that did not have a retail business, or plans for one, on its ground floor.
Good old Mrs. Norris. She never missed a trick. And no one could miss her. Her pear-shaped body was encased in bright-pink sweat pants and an orange t-shirt decorated with a picture of a cartoon cat. Dan couldn’t say for certain at this distance, but she was probably wearing her favorite blue and white jogging shoes, the ones with the fluorescent chartreuse shoelaces.
He wondered if she’d known in advance when Liss was due to arrive, or if she’d spotted the car from her watching post in the bay window. Perched on a strategically placed chair, Mrs. Norris kept an eye on the entire neighborhood. Dan knew that if he went down now, she’d be after him for news of his sister’s pregnancy, his uncle’s gallbladder operation, and the latest on the carpenter his father had fired for petty theft. Dan wasn’t about to let himself be buttonholed by a nosy old lady.
He moved a little closer to the edge of the roof to watch Liss get out of her car. The last time he’d seen her had been high school graduation. He remembered her as a tall, slim seventeen-year-old with sparkling eyes that changed from blue to green, depending upon what she wore, and dark brown hair cut straight and shoulder-length. At first glance she didn’t seem to have changed much. She was still willowy as ever. Dan had been one of the few boys in school who’d been taller than she was. Thinner, too, but he’d filled out since then.
Liss used one hand to brace herself against the roof of her car while she pointed her left toe and flexed that foot, apparently working the kinks out before she tried to walk. Dan was surprised to see that the few steps she took before she was enveloped in Margaret Boyd’s welcoming hug were unsteady. Liss had always moved with remarkable grace. She’d never clumped when she walked, the way most people did. Just how badly, he wondered, had she been hurt?
Liss returned her aunt’s embrace with equal enthusiasm. “You look great, Aunt Margaret. I like the new color.” Her aunt’s hair was an even more brilliant red than it had been when Liss had last seen her. “And Ned.” She hugged him too.
Ned was only four years her senior, but that had been enough of a gap to create some distance between them. Her cousin had always regarded her as a pest, and he hadn’t hesitated to tell her so.
“I can’t stay,” he said as soon as she released him. “I have plans. But Mother insisted you’d need help getting your things upstairs.”
Liss couldn’t miss the condescension in his tone or the slight sneer on his plain, square face, but she chose to ignore both. “My bags and laptop are in the trunk. The car’s unlocked.”
“Hope you didn’t bring too much stuff. You’re not staying all that long.”
That was Ned—always the charmer. Liss’s father claimed his sister over-indulged her only child and he was probably right. Ned thought the whole world revolved around him.
As Liss turned to watch her cousin saunter toward her car, she realized that a third person had come out to greet her. Aunt Margaret’s next-door neighbor all but skipped down her front steps and across the tiny strip of lawn that separated the houses.
White-haired and bright-eyed, decked out in vivid colors, Amanda Norris beamed at Liss. “Well, dear, just look at you! I love the scarf. Is that chiffon?”
“Hello, Mrs. Norris. Yes it is.” She’d found it in a vintage-clothing store during Strathspey’s tour of the midwest.
“Snazzy. Just like you, my dear.”
In addition to being a long-time neighbor, Mrs. Norris had been one of Liss’s most memorable teachers. She’d taught third grade in Moosetookalook for more than forty years. Probably half the people in town had been her pupils, Liss realized. And after she’d retired, she’d continued to be involved with Moosetookalook’s children. She’d been on the school board Liss’s senior year and helped Liss get a scholarship to a two-year college that offered both a business degree and classes in the performing arts. When Liss had joined Strathspey, Mrs. Norris had sent her a congratulatory note, wishing her success in her new endeavor. She sent Christmas cards every year too, even when Liss did not.
“Now, I won’t hold you up when you’re getting settled,” Mrs. Norris said, “but I want you to promise me you’ll be over for a nice piece of apple pie just as soon as you have a free minute.”
Liss didn’t hesitate to give her word. Mrs. Norris made the best apple pie in the county.
“Amazing, isn’t she?” Aunt Margaret asked as the sprightly little woman darted away again. “She was eighty-two her last birthday but she’s still sharp as a tack. If you want to know anything about anybody in Moosetookalook, just ask Amanda Norris. She’s better than a year’s worth of back newspapers for catching up on what’s been going on in this town.”
“I’ll remember that.”
There was one thing she was curious about. At an angle, across the near corner of the town square, was the house her parents had once owned, the house Liss had lived in for seventeen years. It had been repain
ted but otherwise seemed unchanged.
She shaded her eyes against the sun to better see the two men working on the roof. When one of them waved, she automatically waved back.
“Any idea who that is?” she asked her aunt.
“Dan Ruskin is just turning away. His brother Sam is over by the chimney.”
She remembered them both, especially Dan. His eyes were the color of molasses and even in high school he’d had the kind of smile that could send chills down an impressionable young girl’s spine. “They do roofing repairs?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Dan bought the place. He’s fixing it up for himself.” Aunt Margaret headed inside, leaving Liss to follow. Ned had already gone ahead with her luggage.
As she crossed her aunt’s front porch, Liss wondered whom Dan had married. Lucky woman, whoever she was. Dan was a nice guy. And that house was perfect for raising a family.
Then she opened the door to the shop and forgot all about Dan Ruskin as she stepped back into one of the best parts of her childhood. She’d loved spending time in Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium and it looked exactly as she remembered it. Aunt Margaret always had been a great believer in “a place for everything and everything in its place.” The racks of kilts and tartan skirts still marched along one side of the big sales room. The opposite wall held its usual collection of bagpipes, practice chanters, pennywhistles, and drumsticks. Cabinets, shelves, and tables all displayed items with a Scottish theme. The place even smelled the same, redolent of lemon-scented furniture polish.
For the first time in three months, Liss felt alive again.
Chapter Two
“Before Ned has to leave,” Aunt Margaret said, reaching for a pad of lined yellow paper, “let me fill you both in on the plan.”
They had gathered in the kitchen of the apartment above the shop, Liss and her aunt seated on stools at the center island and Ned leaning indolently against the counter. Liss’s aunt was not as domestic as Mrs. Norris—the scent that usually lingered most pungently in the air was that of microwave popcorn—but the room still had a homey feel. Liss smelled something wonderful simmering in the Crock-Pot and she recognized basil growing in a container on the windowsill.
Aunt Margaret consulted the list on the top page of the tablet. “The boxes going to the games are ready to be loaded, so we don’t have to get up until five.”
Liss groaned inwardly at the idea of such an early start. She’d become accustomed to performing at night and sleeping late.
“I’m sorry about the timing. It would have been easier on you if you’d been able to work in the shop for a few days first.”
“No problem,” Liss assured her.
Instead of just going downstairs to open the shop on her first day, she’d be driving to the fairgrounds in Fallstown to manage the Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium booth at the Western Maine Highland Games. Five o’-clock wake-up call aside, Liss looked forward to it. She’d always loved participating in their local Scottish festival.
“I’ll have to leave for the airport by six. Ned will drive me, but by then Sherri should be here and between her truck and your car, you two should be able to get everything to the fairgrounds in one trip. You’ll have until eight to set up the booth. I’ve already had the tables delivered.”
Liss took a long pull on a glass of ice water. Aunt Margaret talked a mile a minute. Always had. But she was the queen of organization. Liss had no worries that everything to do with the business was under control.
“Any questions?”
“Who’s Sherri?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Sherri Willett works part time for me. Has ever since she came home. Wasn’t she in your class at school?”
Liss nodded. She and Sherri hadn’t been close, but Moosetookalook Elementary School was small. They’d all grown up together.
First Dan Ruskin. Now Sherri Willett. Liss wondered how many others were still around. Then she frowned, remembering that Ernie Willett’s daughter had been even more eager than Liss to experience life beyond Moosetookalook, Maine. Sherri hadn’t waited to graduate from high school. Just before Valentine’s Day their senior year, after a quarrel with her father that had been audible to neighbors four houses away, she’d packed her belongings and taken off for parts unknown.
“How long has Sherri been back?”
“Let me see. Must be about three years now. Yes, that’s right. It was just a month or so after that when Sherri’s mother filed for divorce and moved in with her and little Adam.”
“Back up. Sherri has a son?”
Margaret nodded. “Cute little guy. Must be four or five years old. And no, there’s no husband in the picture. Not sure there ever was one. Hardly matters these days, does it? Except to Ernie, of course. He won’t speak to her. Didn’t want to acknowledge that his wife finally walked out on him either. And of course he blamed me.”
“Because you gave Sherri a job?” She supposed that could explain Willett’s hostile attitude.
“Go figure. Far as I can see, he drove both his wife and his daughter away with that temper of his. Do you know he had the nerve to come here and demand that I fire Sherri? I gave him a piece of my mind, let me tell you. It’d be a cold day in Hell before I’d let a nasty old goat like him bully me.”
“I still say you should have had him arrested,” Ned put in. “He threatened you and he broke stuff in the shop. At the least you should have sued him for everything he’s got.”
“What would I want with a gas station and convenience store?” Aunt Margaret scoffed.
“I don’t know. But then I don’t know what you want with a hotel, either.”
“Hotel?” Momentarily distracted from the alarming picture of Ernie Willett resorting to violence in her aunt’s shop, Liss looked from her cousin to her aunt. There was only one hotel in Moosetookalook. “The Spruces?”
“Joe Ruskin and his sons are taking most of the risks,” Aunt Margaret explained. “I’m only a very small shareholder in the project. But when they finish fixing the place up and it re-opens, the tourists will come back. Moosetookalook’s economy will revive. We’ll all profit.”
Ned snorted. “Or you’ll go bankrupt.”
“Have a little faith, Ned.” Aunt Margaret kept her voice light as she chided him, but Liss saw the disappointment in her aunt’s eyes. She wanted her son’s support and approval and clearly he wasn’t about to give her either.
Liss did not sleep well that night. In the hour before dawn, she dreamed she was dancing. She came awake with a small cry of distress as a restless movement sent pain shafting through her knee.
For just a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. She didn’t recognize her surroundings. She thought she must be on the road somewhere, between one show and the next. Then her gaze fell on a framed photograph on the dresser—the MacCrimmons and the Boyds three years earlier at Christmas in Arizona. Awareness crashed in on her, bringing with it renewed grief for all she had lost.
A glance at the alarm clock told Liss it would sound in another ten minutes. She turned it off and rolled out of bed. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she consulted the to-do list she’d composed the previous night, then settled herself on the floor of Aunt Margaret’s guest bedroom to limber up.
Liss had run through an abbreviated version of her physical therapy exercises the night before, but they had to be repeated daily. Warm-ups and workouts were nothing new. When she was on the road, she spent hours doing floor and bar exercises every day, not to mention running through actual dances. After her surgery, she’d designed a strengthening regimen for herself and now stuck to it religiously. Ignoring protests from her newly healed knee, Liss forced her torso downward until her chest touched the tops of her legs, a position she’d once achieved with no effort at all. She was leaning forward to repeat the stretch when she heard a light rap on the door.
“Liss? Rise and shine!”
“Be right there, Aunt Margaret.” Liss levered herself up off the floor and reached for
jeans and a t-shirt. They’d do for loading boxes. After that was done, she’d take a quick shower and change into clothing more appropriate for selling Scottish souvenirs.
Coffee, cereal, and toast awaited Liss in the kitchen, but she barely had time to finish eating before Aunt Margaret, watching out the window, announced that Sherri had arrived and whisked Liss off to the stockroom. It had been the kitchen when the building was a single-family home. Now it was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelving and crowded with boxes and bins.
“Still making kilts?” Liss asked, nodding toward the bolts of fabric stacked on several shelves.
“Every once in a while. The profit margin is good.” Years before, Margaret had tried to teach her niece the basics of kiltmaking, but Liss had lacked the patience to do complicated, exacting needlework.
“Hello, Liss.” Sherri Willett, a petite blonde, had already begun carrying boxes out to the truck she’d backed up to the side entrance that led directly into the stockroom. The merchandise going to the fairgrounds was stacked beside that door, all neatly labeled.
Liss grabbed a carton and followed suit. She wasn’t sure what to say to Sherri after the first greeting. Once she’d envied her, for her size if nothing else. Liss had spent her teenage years being the tallest girl in their high school. Not that she was a giant. But the other girls—and most of the boys, too—had been shorter than her five foot nine.
“Are you going to reunion?” Sherri asked.
Liss vaguely remembered sending a card back months ago to say she couldn’t come. She’d expected to be on tour. With a sinking feeling, she asked when it was being held.
“Next weekend.”
“I’m just not sure I want to . . . to—”
“Face the inquisition?” Sherri finished for her.
Liss winced. The truth was, if she could have attended her tenth high school reunion as a successful professional dancer, she’d have gone in a minute. Her present circumstances made her reluctant. What if her former classmates saw her return to Moosetookalook as slinking back home, tail between her legs—a failure, washed-up, a has-been?
Kilt Dead Page 2
