Ned answered quickly. “So hire a business manager who knows this kind of stuff. The position could be short term, like an educational consultant, but we could pay enough to make it appealing. Or two people, to cover the medical and the business sides. Term appointment, no promises, flat fee.”
Abby found herself grinning, even though her head was spinning. “Ned, the way your mind works continues to amaze me. You’ve just created a business plan out of thin air. But this is a lot to digest. You’re right—I need to think bigger. I can’t go creeping around looking for people who might have this psychic ability, one by one. It’s not efficient. But I’ll have to readjust my perspective just a bit. Are you going to be part of this?”
“It depends. You said you wanted something important to do, something that mattered to you. This can be your project. I’ll help if you want me to, but I’m the science guy, remember? You’re the teacher slash fundraiser—you can make a credible presentation. Of course I can provide whatever funds you need for the start-up. But at some point this hypothetical organization will have to be self-supporting, or no one will take it seriously.”
“Got it. So I’ll go back to doing research. What else is on the calendar?”
“Ours or the rest of the world’s?”
“Let’s start with ours. Do we have a plan for Thanksgiving?”
“Uh, not officially. My family doesn’t make a big thing about it—whoever wants to come to dinner is welcome. Or we could host it here, if you’re up for that.”
Abby looked around the kitchen and sighed inwardly. “Well, at least everything in the kitchen works. The dining room is pretty shabby, and I don’t know if we have enough chairs . . .”
“That sounds kind of like a ‘no.’”
“I guess so. Maybe we can host it next year? Things should look better by then.”
“What about your parents? Will they expect to see you—us—here or at their place?”
Abby felt a stab of guilt. “I haven’t even thought that far. We’ve both been so busy that I kind of lost sight of Thanksgiving.”
“Didn’t you have any ancestors in Plymouth?”
“I think so, but I haven’t had time to look at the family tree lately—at least, not past the ancestors in this neighborhood. And Salem, of course. Plymouth is on my to-do list.”
Ned smiled. “In case you haven’t noticed, that kind of research is never finished. Don’t worry—those ancestors will wait.”
“I should talk to your mother about this, uh, Big Idea. She’s pretty much in touch with the local community, and she knows a lot of people. I don’t want to go charging off in any one direction and then find out that it’s been done or it’s failed in the past.”
“There’s no rush, Abby.”
“I now—it’s just that I feel impatient. Are you still thinking about that year-end award thing at the school?”
“Yes, I guess. It would give confirmation about Ellie’s new friend, and might turn up a few other kids. I’ve never spent a lot of time with a group of children, so maybe I’ve missed something obvious. But this is highly unscientific—more like taking a pool of thirty or so kids and saying ‘yes, no, maybe’ about each one. Still, it’s a start.”
“Makes sense to me. So, it’s Saturday. What do we need to do? How far did you get with clearing out the basement?”
“Not as far as I’d hoped. I kept getting sidetracked by the things I found. Old bottles stashed in corners. Metal tools that I think were used to poke coal around in the furnace when it still burned coal. What look like the remains of a storage pantry for preserves or something. And a lot of dirt.”
“I’m happy to help, unless that means there’ll be two of us poking in dark corners and pulling out rusty junk, and then trying to figure out what the heck it was. How come you never did this before?”
“I was busy, I guess. I bought the house and did what was necessary to make it livable, but that was as far as I got. Clearly I was waiting for a woman’s touch to make aesthetic improvements.”
“I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted. I’m happy to pull my weight, but I’m not going to play the helpless lady of the house and spend my days choosing wallpaper and tile. But I do think we need to step up the renovations, if we’re going to jump into a new project.”
“Good point. How about this? We do a detailed walk-through of the house and make a list of things we think should be done, and then we prioritize those and make some plans.”
“Sounds good in theory. Can I hold you to it? Because I don’t want to be living in a construction zone forever.”
“I’m not arguing. Today or tomorrow?”
“Let’s start fresh tomorrow. We’ve got to get some groceries and stuff like that today. Unless you want to keep working on the cellar?”
“We dig around the cellar as long as there’s light, and then we can get cleaned up and do the food shopping?”
“That’ll work.”
Abby and Ned spent a happy few hours rooting around in the basement. It was amazing to her what past occupants of the house had kept, or more likely, simply not bothered to throw away. Abby reminded herself to put together the ownership history of the place, which she was pretty sure she could do online. Had the earlier owners been sentimental, thrifty or just lazy? Hard to say now. She’d never thought about it before, but having so much space meant you could just pitch your junk into the basement and forget about it. In a smaller place you didn’t have that luxury.
“Uh, what’s this?” Abby asked, pulling out a rusty box-shaped object and holding it up for Ned’s inspection.
“Looks like an old floor grate for the heating system. You can put that in the ‘toss’ pile.”
A few minutes later, Abby said, “How about this? What is it?” She handed Ned a curved narrow metal object about six inches long.
He turned it over in his hands. “There’s a bit of wood sticking out of the end. I’m going to guess it was either a shepherd’s crook for very small sheep or an umbrella handle.”
“I’ll go with the umbrella idea. Wonder what the rest of it would have looked like?”
“Probably silk,” Ned suggested. “It looks like it predates the invention of synthetic materials.”
“Nice. Ooh, look, a fork!” Abby exclaimed.
“Wonder how that got lost? But it’s not silver.”
“I don’t care,” Abby protested. “It’s something the prior residents ate with. That makes it kind of personal. Ned, apart from the people in the cemetery out back, you never sensed any connection to the people who lived here, did you?”
He shook his head. “No. But it’s impossible to be related to everybody in Massachusetts.”
“So you bought the place because you liked it?”
“Yes, plus it was in a convenient location, and the price was right. But I did like it on first sight. What about you? No family here?”
“Not that I’ve noticed in the house. It’s just as well—I’d hate to feel my relatives were here watching us all the time.”
“What about Halloween? It seems that either we have a lot of relatives hanging around, or maybe when spirits gather, they kind of amplify each other.”
“I haven’t really decided what I believe. Ellie saw them, you saw them, I saw them. So there must be some kind of connection to us. If this thing is random, we’d be swamped with spirits all the time. Unless, of course, they all get a free pass for Halloween. Have you seen anybody since?”
“I don’t think so,” Ned told her. “And I’m not getting any vibes from all the junk I’ve been handling.”
“Good to know. But I find it hard to believe that anyone would leave a strong imprint on broken furnace parts. By the way, how are we getting rid of all this stuff? So far all we’ve done is make a big pile,” Abby pointed out.
“I’ll check the trash and recycling guidelines. Worst case, we can rent a Dumpster and pay someone to haul it away.”
“Just as long as I don’
t have to trek it all to the dump. Is there a dump?”
“Uh, I don’t know? I’ve never looked for one.”
“How many years have you lived here, Ned Newhall?”
“A few. But I’ve never cleaned out all this stuff, obviously.”
“Well, let’s get this over with,” Abby said firmly.
By late afternoon the corners were clear, and all the useless broken junk was in a large pile near the cellar hatch that led to the outside. “Don’t you feel better now that this is done?” Abby asked.
“I guess,” Ned replied. “I also feel grimy, greasy and sweaty. Time for a shower. Want to join me?”
“Definitely.”
Chapter 4
Sunday
The next morning Abby was in the kitchen trying to find enough ingredients to make anything resembling breakfast—the grocery shopping hadn’t quite happened the day before, because other things had intervened—when the landline rang. Ned was still sleeping, thanks to his heroic efforts at clearing out the basement, so Abby picked up quickly. She was pleased to hear Ned’s mother’s voice.
“Abby, it’s Sarah. I won’t keep you long, but I wondered if you and Ned would like to join us for Thanksgiving dinner?”
Abby laughed. “We’d love to. We were talking about it yesterday, and I felt bad that our place is such a mess and not anywhere near ready for entertaining. Maybe by next year.”
“Don’t worry about it—we love to fill our house with lots of people, but only once or twice a year. Oh, and if your parents would like to come, they’d be welcome too.”
“Thank you! I haven’t even talked to my parents yet about the holiday. How’ve you been?”
“Good. It always surprises me how easy it is to fill the time I have. I thought being retired would be more leisurely. Word of wisdom for you: don’t start volunteering for things. Once people know you’re available, they’ll descend on you like a flock of vultures.”
Abby laughed. “Good to know. Maybe next year, once this place is more or less finished.” She hesitated a moment. “Sarah, can we have lunch this week, maybe? I’ve got an idea I’d like to discuss with you, and right now I can use all the input I can get.”
“Is this something Ned knows about?”
“Of course. It’s not hush-hush. But he has a different perspective, as a man, and as a professional scientist. I’d like your perspective as a long-time resident of the area. Oh, and as an intelligent, educated woman.”
“Sounds intriguing. Tomorrow?”
“That works for me. Here? Or Concord?”
“Let’s do Concord. And maybe after lunch we can stop by the bookstore.”
“I can’t remember the last time I actually finished reading a book. Sounds like heaven!”
Sarah agreed to pick her up the next morning. Ned stumbled into the kitchen just as Abby was hanging up. “Who was that?” he asked, reaching for the coffee carafe.
“Your mother. She just invited us to Thanksgiving dinner. And she and I are having lunch tomorrow.”
Ned dropped into a chair. “Problem solved. After clearing out the basement, I realize I haven’t been getting nearly enough physical exercise. I can feel every muscle complaining.”
“Wimp! Wait until snow season starts and you have to shovel.”
“I thought we were partners—aren’t you doing half of it?”
“Is there a snow blower?”
“Yes. If it still runs. In the past I’ve shoveled a path from the back door to the car, and a path from the car to the street, period. Poor machine hasn’t had much of a workout.”
“Let’s make sure it’s working before it snows. Uh, breakfast pickings are pretty pathetic.”
“Right, we never shopped. How about we go hit up Dunkin’ Donuts and then head for the market after?”
“Brilliant idea. Don’t forget we’re doing a serious walk-through of the house and putting together our project list today.”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten. Is there a timeframe for completing the tasks on the list?”
“Let’s aim for a year. Some are weather-sensitive, so they’ll have to wait. Some we can hire people to do, like painting the outside. But we should put everything on the list.”
“You are an ambitious woman, Abigail.”
“No, just well organized. I like to plan. I thought scientists did that too?”
“Only for experiments. We let the rest of our lives just stumble along.”
“That explains a lot. So, let’s go!”
Two hours later they were fed and the refrigerator and pantry were restocked. Abby was seated at the dining room table, with a fresh lined pad and a pen, and was itching to begin the inventory of tasks that awaited them. Ned appeared somewhat less enthusiastic, and he pulled out a chair for himself. “Is this another one of your distractions?” he asked.
“From my Big Idea? Yes and no. I’ve been thinking about what needs doing here, and what parts I can do on my own, ever since I moved in. But not in any organized way—mostly I wake up in the middle of the night and stew about it. I just want to set down all the parts. It will probably look less daunting when we see it in black and white, on paper, and I’ll be able to focus my energies better. Where do you want to start?”
“This floor, I guess. That’s what most people see. Upstairs is less urgent, and you’ve already taken care of Ellie’s room.”
“True. Let’s do this!”
They ambled around the ground floor, noting both structural and cosmetic concerns. Abby didn’t pretend she could handle carpentry or wiring—they’d probably need professionals for anything involving those—but she was comfortable with painting, papering, making curtains, and also with choosing rugs or carpets, furniture and pictures. Oh, and lamps—she hated sitting in the dark. Unfortunately electrical outlets in most of the rooms were rather sparse, so somebody professional would have to address that problem. And check the wiring for the chandeliers, while they were in the house.
The whole walk-through took less than an hour, and Abby emerged with three pages of notes.
“Are we done yet?” Ned asked.
“For now. We can prioritize later. Do you need a nap after your exertions?”
“You’re making fun of me,” he grumbled.
“Just a little.” Abby grinned at him. “You don’t have to do it all yourself. We can afford to hire people for some of these things, right?”
“I guess.” He didn’t sound happy.
“Well, why don’t you go do something fun, and I’ll do a bit more online research.”
He brightened up quickly. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course I don’t. You go right ahead.”
“I think I need some stuff from the hardware store,” he said.
A man’s favorite escape, Abby thought fondly. “Go!” She gave him a small shove, and he disappeared quickly.
Abby shook her head, more amused than dismayed. The man had bought a handsome historic house that was begging for a little TLC and then ignored it. The house deserved better, and she wanted to see that what needed doing did get done, and done right. In the spare time left over from this theoretical project she was planning. Reluctantly she thought about her ex, Brad. Brad had been anything but handy with household repairs, but he’d had very definite ideas about what he wanted—and most of them cost a lot of money. Okay, he was earning the money, but he had never asked her what she wanted. Was Ned’s attitude better? He really didn’t give much thought to his surroundings. Whether he would agree to what she decided she wanted remained to be seen.
Okay, she’d told Ned that she was going to do more research, so she should do just that, with the hours of daylight that remained—the dining room where her computer was got dark and gloomy pretty quickly in the late afternoons at this time of year. She settled herself at the table, turned on the computer, and thought. What did she want to know? She and Ned had talked about creating a school for autistic students, but that idea kind of scared
her. First, it would be large, relatively—most likely there would have to be a critical mass of students to make a place work well, and that would require multiple staff members. Second, there must be a lot of regulatory hoops to jump through, and going through those would take time and work and still might not be successful—and she had to admit she was impatient. Third, she wasn’t sure she had the necessary skills to be involved in a meaningful way in setting this up. The idea was nice, but the execution would be difficult. No, she decided, that idea was not going to work. Maybe she should start smaller?
Her thoughts drifted to Ellie, and what they could do together on “their” Thursday this week. That was when the lightbulb in her head went on: what about an after-school center? Smaller, simpler to operate. It might be a little odd to specialize in autistic kids, or at least include a number of them, but at least they would already have been tested and were used to being around other people. What were the requirements for day care? She clicked on a link to the state regulations and breathed a sigh of relief. The criteria were simple and could be implemented quickly. Her previous experience working with small children would be a plus and would be recognized as long as she could provide documentation. The site didn’t have to be large, and if Ned was contributing the start-up funding, it would be smaller and less expensive than a school, and quicker to set up. She’d call that a “maybe.”
Would it serve the needs she had already identified? She wanted to understand how the mind of an autistic child worked, and how it was different from other children’s—and more important, she wanted to know if she could “reach” them with her unusual gift, and if she learned anything, whether that could be applied to help them. For that she needed contact with autistic children, maybe with a range of difficulties, on an ongoing basis. She needed to spend time with them, to get to know them—and to be able to touch them, casually. A day-care setting would work. Abby started printing out the state regulations, including the section on “differently abled” children.
Revealing the Dead Page 3
