by Karen Kelly
“Cool!” Emily held out her hand for the box. Alice gave it to her, and she opened it for Annie, pulling out black, blue, and red markers, and holding them out to Annie. “Which color do you want?”
Annie selected blue and immediately wrote on the board. “Thank you, Alice!”
“Don’t mention it. I had to go to the office-supply store anyway for some demonstration supplies.” Emily tugged on Alice’s sleeve. “What is it, sweetie?”
“Vanessa brought another casserole for Miss Annie, but the fridge looked too full. Can you help me?”
Alice’s eyebrows rose. “Full? There was plenty of room when I left!”
Annie uncapped her blue marker and wrote, “Friends have been busy.”
Alice hurried into the kitchen; Annie and Emily could hear her exclamation. A few minutes later she reappeared. Annie flashed the board her way, which read, “When well, will need to diet!”
Yet another knock sounded on the front door.
16
“If it’s more food, we’re going to have to store it in my fridge,” Alice said as she went to open the door. “Hi, Ian. Oh, how beautiful!” She reappeared with the mayor, a large bouquet of flowers in his hand.
Putting aside her initial embarrassment of Ian seeing her in such an anemic condition, Annie smiled as wide as she could and scribbled on the board. “Lovely! Thank you!”
“I hope they will brighten up your room as you recuperate,” said Ian. He ruffled Emily’s hair. “Hi, Em. Are you being Miss Annie’s helper?”
“I sure am.” Emily nodded. “I’m glad you didn’t bring any food, Mr. Mayor, ’cause there’s no room in the fridge.”
Ian frowned. “Oh. I guess I’ll have to return that twenty-pound ham I have out in the car.” Then he winked at the little girl.
“You’re awfully silly sometimes for a mayor.” Emily giggled as Ian made a face at her. Annie was reminded of Joanna and couldn’t hide her smile.
Peggy called from the top of the stairs, “Em! I need your help with something!”
“OK, Mama!” Emily dashed out of the room and up the steps.
Ian reached into his pants pocket, drawing out some folded sheets of paper. “I did not bring a ham, but I did bring something else.” He opened up the sheets and handed them to Annie. “When Alice told me the cargo on the Song of Laima, I pulled up a list of wood-pulp companies in Maine.”
Annie nodded her thanks and scanned over the list. Alice looked over her shoulder, reading each name. When Annie moved to the second page, Alice pointed to a name. “I don’t recognize one of these. It wasn’t in the packet of information we got at the Historical Society’s library.”
“Which one?” asked Ian.
“Oxford Fiber Industries.”
Ian reached for his phone and made a note of the company Alice mentioned. “Maybe it’s a new company. It would take a little time for the library to update new information. The industry is constantly changing these days. I’ll see if I can find any details about Oxford.”
“Thanks, Ian. You never know what bits of information end up shedding light on these mysteries, do you?”
Annie nodded her agreement with Alice’s comment and wrote on the board, “Appreciate your help!”
“It’s my pleasure, Annie,” Ian responded. “I’ll let you know if anything interesting comes to light, but for now, concentrate on getting well. We need your voice in tip-top shape for the Christmas Eve caroling.”
Alice shook a finger at the mayor. “Annie’s voice better return way before then. Do you have any idea how much of my free time is spent talking to her? I’m going to get lonely!”
“We can’t have that,” Ian agreed with a chuckle. “Of course, you can still talk to her. She just can’t talk back. I’ll get going and give you some peace.”
Annie waved goodbye to the mayor, and Alice walked with him to the door. “I’m afraid all of her visitors have worn Annie out,” he whispered to her. “Don’t feel badly if you need to turn others away this afternoon.”
“I won’t. She’s starting to droop. I’ll also make sure she naps before we try to move her back upstairs.”
“Good.” Ian turned and strode down the porch steps.
Alice locked the door and returned to the living room to find Annie’s eyes closed and her breathing deep. “That was easy.” She picked up the bowl and tray still sitting on the coffee table and took it into the kitchen. After making sure the kitchen was tidy Alice returned to sit in the living room, in case anyone else should arrive to visit. It felt nice to simply sit for a little while in the midst of her busy day.
Peggy and Emily came downstairs, a mound of bed linens in Peggy’s arms. “We’re just going to pop these into the washing machine,” she whispered to Alice as they walked by the entrance of the living room. Alice felt a tinge of guilt about not helping her, but three people weren’t needed to load the machine.
By the time Peggy and Emily finished tidying the bedroom, Annie was beginning to stir. Opening her eyes, she smiled at the three friends surrounding her. Once she appeared to be completely alert, Peggy asked Annie if she could make a copy of the spreadsheets before she took Emily home on the way to her evening shift.
Annie nodded and jotted on the board, “Printer’s in the library.” Peggy dug the spreadsheets out of the project bag and disappeared down the hall again, this time to the library.
Returning with the copies, Peggy looked down at Annie. “I almost forgot to tell you,” she said. “As I was changing your sheets, I found an envelope between your bedside table and the bed. Looks like one of those letters from William, but it’s fatter. I left it in the middle of your bed, on top of the quilt, of course.”
On the board Annie wrote, “Don’t remember fat envelope. Must have dropped it. Thanks.”
“Let us know what’s in it, next time we see you,” said Peggy. “Are you ready to go back upstairs before we leave?”
Annie nodded. Looking around the room where she’d spent the afternoon, her eyes rested on the vase of beautiful flowers Ian had brought. “Please take my flowers up,” she wrote on the board.
“I think I can manage that,” Alice said with a grin. “Especially since I had a nice little rest during your nap, while Peggy was slaving away.”
Peggy waved off her words, “Aw, I hardly did a thing.” She handed the project bag to Alice, “Do you think you can sling that over your shoulder, as well, since you’re so well rested?”
“I suppose you’ll want me to walk behind you up the stairs to break your fall, just in case.” Alice said, taking the bag and the flowers.
“Of course, we do.” Peggy grinned wickedly and stepped close to Annie to help her up. “Em, grab the rest of the stuff, please.” The small caravan slowly snaked its way up the stairs to Annie’s bedroom. When they stepped through the doorway, Annie gave a little gasp, but it wasn’t from the effort of the stair climbing. She marveled at how tidy and fresh the room was.
“Hardly did a thing, huh?” Alice spoke for the both of them.
“Nothing Annie or you wouldn’t do for me,” Peggy declared.
They settled their patient back in her bed, making sure all possible necessities were within arm’s reach.
“Bye, Miss Annie,” said Emily, “Hope that ole froggie gets out of your throat real soon.”
Alice reminded her friend, “If you need anything, just call and croak. I’ll be right over.”
Annie scribbled on her board, “Thank you all!”
After the three friends left, Annie paused a moment to thank God for the blessing of a caring community; then she opened the envelope Peggy had found.
Strange. The thick package was stuffed with receipts from Western Union in William Holden’s name. Annie sifted through all the thin papers. Each one showed the same amount of money wired to a woman in Portland, a woman Annie had never heard of before—Gilda Serra. The dates ranged from 1930 to 1940.
Her hand automatically reached for the phone to call Alice.
Annie remembered she had no voice, grimaced and let her hand drop back to the quilt. Why was this envelope in with the letters sent to her Grandpa? Who was Gilda Serra?
Her mind ran wild over the possibilities. Did William have a secret relationship in addition to his wife? She thought back to the letter Aunt Ida had written to Charlie when he reached adulthood, pleading for him to pray for his uncle. Had those desperate prayer requests been related to this Gilda Serra?
Annie thought back over all the clues they had uncovered so far to find a connection, but she couldn’t think of anything to help explain this new discovery. At least they had a new name to research, as soon as she was feeling better. Maybe it would lead to more understanding of William’s struggle and Aunt Ida’s anxiety. A tendril of doubt crept into Annie’s thoughts. Maybe if they kept digging, they’d find something Annie would rather keep buried.
But then she remembered the end of one of William’s underlined verses. “Mercy and truth shall go before thy face.” No, she didn’t want truth to stay buried, because mercy would be there too.
Prayer seemed the only—and the best—thing she could do. “Lord, thank you that truth and mercy go hand in hand before you,” she mouthed silently. “Please heal my voice and take away this fever so I may solve this mystery and know the truth.”
Tucking the receipts back in the envelope, Annie set it on the table and drifted to sleep.
17
Alice had hit the ground running early, something she rarely did, after her day in Portland. There were Divine Décor and Princessa orders to prepare, consultants to be encouraged, and hostesses to be guided to ensure their holiday demonstrations were festive and successful. On Thursday morning, between a conference call and a consultation at a hostess’s home, she was in desperate need of a stiff cup of coffee. And that was just the kind The Cup & Saucer brewed.
Alice shouldered the door open, sighing at the welcome warmth and the coffee-scented air. Across the room Peggy was picking up two large plates filled with the breakfast special. Holding them just above shoulder height as she maneuvered her way through the crowded diner, her body position reminded Alice of an Egyptian maiden. The only thing needed was a change from pink waitress uniform to draped sheath of linen.
Not planning to linger long, Alice snagged a seat at the counter. “Morning, Frank,” she greeted the plumber a couple seats away and received a nod and “Ayuh” in response between bites of pancakes. Peggy brought Alice a mug after her hands were emptied of the specials.
“Whatcha having today, Alice?” Peggy filled the mug.
Alice gestured at the steaming liquid. “Just coffee this time, Peggy.” Peggy glanced behind her through the serving window to see where the boss was, and then she leaned closer to Alice. “Can you pretend to be looking at the menu, anyway? Got something to tell you.”
Alice plucked the plastic-covered menu from the metal holder and opened it, playing the part of an indecisive diner.
“Yesterday, before I left Annie’s, I copied the list of Bible notes you two made. I spent last night studying it.” She paused. “I think I know what several more of the notes mean!”
The diner door opened, and Peggy’s eyes darted up to see the new arrival. It was Ian Butler. Catching his eye, Peggy waved him over to the counter.
“Made it just in time, Mr. Mayor.”
Ian pushed his winter cap off his short hair and stuffed it into his coat pocket. “Hope your mornings are going well, Alice and Peggy. Were you about to give a status report on Annie’s condition? Is her fever down today?”
A slight look of guilt passed over Peggy’s face. “Well, no. I’ve been on duty since six, so I haven’t been able to check on her yet.”
“Neither have I,” Alice confessed also. “Busy morning for business.” She added quickly, “But I plan to check in with her as soon as my next meeting is over.”
Ian nodded, understanding the pressures of the season. “What am I just in time for then?”
“Something that will help Annie feel better, even if she doesn’t have her voice back yet.” Excitement came back into Peggy’s voice.
“Peggy thinks she knows what more of William’s notations mean,” Alice inserted.
“Excellent, Peggy! Which ones?” Ian asked, sitting on the stool next to Alice.
Peggy reached underneath the counter to retrieve another mug for the Mayor. “Don’t know if you remember, but my Pop-Pop used to work in Portland for the railroad. We used to visit him all the time. The older he got, the more he’d ramble on about how much the city was changing.” She filled a mug with coffee and handed it to Ian. “When I was looking at the list last night, I realized quite a few of the words are landmarks, buildings, or streets in Portland. Some aren’t even around anymore, like—Shoot! Be right back!”
Peggy whirled around to the serving window, whisked a plate of eggs and bacon from under the warming lamps and set off for a small table across the room. After the food drop and three coffee refills, Peggy was back behind the counter.
“Some aren’t around any more, like …?” Alice prompted.
“Right.” Peggy nodded as she placed the empty coffee carafe aside and set a new one under the coffeemaker. “Like the notation with the three words, magnificus, arca, and india. We were thinking the country India, but what’s that got to do with Portland or the Baltic?”
“It would seem out of place,” said Ian, picking up his cup.
“I’ll bet india means India Street in Portland. It’s on the waterfront. Pop-Pop used to work at a train terminal there called Grand Trunk.”
“Magnificus arca, I presume?” Alice said, waving her menu in salute.
Peggy nodded and went on before another customer needed her. “Remember stella means star? And the next word was sulphurata. The Star Match Factory was a big business in Portland in the early 1900s, and most of the original building is still there. It’s also on the waterfront.”
“I don’t remember a train station on the waterfront,” Alice said.
Peggy poured some fresh coffee into Alice’s mug. “That’s because it was torn down in the 1960s. Pop-Pop was furious about it. Thirty, forty years later, he’d still swear the people who demolished it had two lamps burning and no ship at sea.” The three smiled at her grandfather’s use of the old Maine colloquialism.
“So we have to figure out how a match factory and a train station fit into the trail,” said Ian.
“And that’s not all,” Peggy reminded him. “There are other places to look for too. There’s something on High Street at a wharf—and there’s several of those, you know—and Commercial Street, which is in Old Portland. The Roman numeral for 156 and that Latin word for federal is the address of the courthouse.”
Ian shook his head from side to side. “Peggy, have you ever considered training to be a detective? You’ve inspired me. When I get back to the office I’m going to call a friend at the Maine Pulp and Paper Association. He should be able to dig up some information on that company, Oxford. I want to make sure it’s a newer company, and that’s why the library at the Historical Society didn’t have any records for it.”
“Not historical enough, huh?” Alice quipped, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got to run, Peggy. I’ll check on Annie on my way home and let you know if she’s strong enough for the excitement of your new information.” She dug into her purse and slid a few dollars next to her coffee mug. Then she clapped her hand onto Ian’s shoulder. “And I’ll give you an update on our patient too.”
“Thanks, Alice,” said Ian. “I’d appreciate it.”
After Alice hurried out the door, Peggy focused her attention on the mayor. “Now, are you going to eat anything or not?”
****
“I’ll be here thirty minutes before the demonstration begins tomorrow.” Alice gave her new hostess some parting words of encouragement. “The most important thing you can do is to relax and have fun with your guests, Callie. You’re going to be a great hostess.” She meant it too.
Callie was enthusiastic without being nervous, the kind of personality that usually set a fun and festive vibe to a gathering—the kind of vibe that usually led to brisk sales.
Callie waved from the door as Alice hurried to her Mustang. Once she had pulled out of the driveway and reached a stop sign, she paused to call Annie. After a few rings Annie answered still doing her best frog impression.
“Don’t try to talk,” Alice told her. “I just wanted you to know I’m on my way to Grey Gables to check on you and to feed Boots. Didn’t want you to think someone was breaking into your house.” To some people that would sound like a joke, but Annie was no stranger to unwanted visitors at her seaside home.
Annie managed to squawk, “OK,” and Alice hung up after a “See you soon.” Fifteen minutes later she parked her car in front of Grey Gables, seeing Boots stationed at the living room window. When she slid the key into the lock, her peripheral vision caught movement. Boots was coming to greet her, no doubt expecting food as payment for her politeness.
“Heya, Boots,” Alice crooned as she shut the door behind her. “Are you taking good care of our Annie?” The cat padded over to rub her head against Alice’s ankles. A muffled snort came from the living room. Alice shed her coat and hat, and headed to see her friend, Boots trailing behind.
Annie was stretched out on the couch with an afghan draped over her from chin to feet. She was jotting away on her white board. Finishing with an exclamation point, she turned the board around so Alice could read it. “Boots hasn’t moved from window, crying pitifully!”
Boots had resumed rubbing against Alice’s legs once she had come to a standstill beside the couch. Alice chided, “Silly cat, have we ever let you starve?” Turning, she grinned at Annie. “I’ll feed Boots before she rubs a hole in my slacks.” She disappeared down the hall, the cat keeping pace with her. Once she had filled one bowl with fresh water and the other with cat crunchies, she washed her hands and returned to Annie.
The board had a new message. “Thanks! Felt better this a.m., so came downstairs. Fever came back this p.m.”
