Talk of the Town

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  “Old Florence,” Alice managed.

  Louise began to smile. “You two are out of control.” She reached around them and picked up the paper. As she read, her eyebrows climbed higher and higher. “My heavens,” she muttered. “What was Carlene thinking? Those interviews with Bobby Dawson and the two younger boys are nothing short of inflammatory. Paired with that ridiculous monster quote from Florence, this article is likely to create a real furor.”

  “I doubt it.” Alice had calmed down enough to speak again. She drew her index fingers beneath her lower lashes, wiping away the tears of mirth. “It’s a joke, don’t you see?”

  “Yes,” Jane said. “It’s meant to be tongue-in-cheek. Florence played right into Carlene’s hands. But I don’t think anyone—except for maybe a few kids—will believe for one minute that there’s a monster on the loose in Acorn Hill.”

  Louise had walked around her sisters and was looking at an inside page of the newspaper. “Oh, look. Bless Carlene’s heart.”

  Alice knew what she meant immediately. “She put the notice about Wendell in the paper?”

  Louise nodded. “It’s the lead article on the second page, with that wonderful picture you gave her, Jane, and it tells the whole story of his stowing away.” She laughed shakily. “If anyone from Acorn Hill happens to see him in Potterston, they’ll know in a New York minute who he is and where he belongs.”

  “As opposed to an Acorn Hill minute,” Jane returned, “which undoubtedly is twice as long as a minute from New York.”

  Louise smiled perfunctorily, but the lightheartedness had fled from the morning, and after a few moments, each sister went her own way.

  Jane had to get the morning chores finished, but before she did, there was one more thing she wanted to do about finding Wendell. Getting out the telephone book, she laid it on the desk and began flipping through the pages until she found what she wanted.

  A minute later, she dialed a number and listened while the phone rang on the other end.

  “Potterston Animal Control, Wanda speaking. May I help you?”

  “Good morning. This is Jane Howard from the Grace Chapel Inn in Acorn Hill. Is Jack O’Hara available?”

  “Sorry. He’s in the field this morning. May I take a message?”

  Jane made a moue of disappointment. “Yes. Could you please ask him to call me at his convenience?” She reeled off her phone number, and the woman repeated it.

  “All right, honey. Got it. I’ll pass on the message to Jack. You say you’re from Grace Chapel Inn? Over in Acorn Hill?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jack’s doing some patrolling over that way today so he may stop by in person if I can catch up with him.”

  “That would be even better. Thank you.” Jane wished the woman a pleasant day and hung up.

  Shortly after lunch, the reservation bell dinged. Jane was out on the back porch folding newly laundered sheets and towels. She hurriedly set down the hand towel she just had picked up and walked to the front desk.

  There stood a gray-haired woman, who appeared to be in her late sixties, and a blonde twenty-something young woman.

  “Hello,” Jane greeted them. “I’m Jane Howard, one of the owners of Grace Chapel Inn. Welcome.”

  “Thank you,” the woman replied in heavily accented English. She wore her gray hair in a short Dutch-boy bob, and her chocolate brown eyes were magnified by her wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Oh, you must be Mrs. Moeller. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “And you the same, dear. This is my great-niece Amanda. She drive me from Philadelphia and take me to dinner, then go back home.”

  Jane thought Mrs. Moeller’s grammatically garbled English was charming. She smiled at both women and then addressed Amanda. “I see. If you don’t have dinner plans, Amanda, I can recommend some local restaurants.”

  “That would be nice,” Amanda said. “I can help Aunt Clothilda get settled and then come see you.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Jane said. She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a sheet on which she had made a list of places to eat in and around Acorn Hill and Potterston. “This is what you need. There are directions from the inn to each of those restaurants on the list.”

  “Thank you. This is perfect.” The young woman smiled.

  Jane quickly completed the registration process, gave Mrs. Moeller the key to the Sunrise Room, and picked up one of the two suitcases in the hallway, while Amanda picked up the other. “I’ll show you to your room now.”

  “Danke… thank you.”

  Jane smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I don’t speak any German, Mrs. Moeller. My sisters and I had hoped to learn a few phrases to welcome you, but we’ve had a very busy week and didn’t find the time.”

  “No matter.” Clothilda waved a hand. “I must practice English.”

  “My aunt, Ethel Buckley, is eager to visit with you. She is the one you spoke to on the telephone last week.”

  “Ah. Yes. I remember.” The older woman followed Jane up the stairs to the second floor. “You call me Clothilda, not… not formal. Okay?”

  “Okay. And you must call me Jane.”

  “Jane.” It came out sounding more like “chain” but Jane figured it was close enough to get her attention. She set down the suitcase and indicated the room. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Please let us know if there is anything you need. I’ll begin serving breakfast at 7:30 AM tomorrow unless you have a need for an earlier time. Just let me know and I’ll arrange to serve you at a time that suits you better.”

  “You are most… good. Kind.” Clothilda smiled warmly. “I take a sleep right now. The travel makes me tired.”

  “All right.” Jane gave her guest an encouraging smile, knowing that if she were visiting Germany, she’d have a lot more difficulty making herself understood than Clothilda was having in English. “Amanda, may I interest you in some tea or a snack?”

  “Oh, no thank you.” The young woman smiled and dug a novel out of the backpack slung over her shoulder. “May I sit on the porch? I brought a good book along so I’d have something to do while Aunt Clo rested.”

  “Of course. That would be fine.”

  “Good. Good.” Clothilda nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Jane.”

  Jane and Amanda left the Sunrise Room. Amanda went down to the porch, while Jane went up to her room briefly and then headed back downstairs. When Jane reached the first floor, there was a man waiting at the reception desk.

  “Jack! Thanks for coming by.”

  Jack O’Hara was the animal control officer for Potterston and the surrounding communities, including Acorn Hill.

  “Hey, Jane. How are you?”

  “Good, thanks. And yourself?”

  “Tee-riffic.” He grinned, making the tips of his handlebar mustache slide upward. “Got a message here, says you want to talk to me. Animal problem?”

  Jane nodded. “On Wednesday our family cat Wendell sneaked into a guest’s car and when the man stopped for gas in Potterston, Wendell jumped out. We’ve been looking for him ever since. I wanted to give you his description in case you should come across him in your travels.”

  Jack brushed a hand reflectively across the crown of his flat-topped military style crew cut, although his brilliant red hair was in perfect order already. “Sorry to hear that. I’d be glad to keep a lookout out for him. Wanna tell me what he looks like?”

  Jane nodded. “I’ll do you one better.” She reached beneath the counter and pulled out one of the flyers. “He’s a short-haired gray tabby with white feet and a black-tipped tail. And he’s fat. The picture is an excellent likeness.”

  “Haven’t seen him,” Jack said, eyeing the picture. “Can I keep this?”

  “Sure. We posted a number of them around Potterston and Acorn Hill already, and Alice alerted the animal shelter in case someone was to bring him in. Is there anything else we should do?”

  “Vets,” Jack told her. “Take your posters around t
o all the local veterinarians. They usually have bulletin boards for public announcements about animals, and you should tell them at the desk, too, in case someone brings him in with an injury.”

  Jane shuddered. “Oh, I can’t let myself think about that. But thank you for the advice. We’ll do anything we can to find him.” She paused, and then asked, “Do people often find lost pets?”

  “Oh, sure.” Jack nodded. “Not always, but I can think of quite a few situations where people have gotten their animals back. It’s only been since Wednesday you say? Early days. Early days. Don’t give up yet.”

  “All right.” Jane appreciated his encouragement. “That’s good to hear.”

  “No problem. We squared away?”

  “Yes. Thanks again for stopping by, Jack. My sisters and I really appreciate anything you can do.”

  “Glad to be of service. Hope you find your cat.”

  Jane saw him out, watching as he marched down the steps and off to his truck. “Okay, Wendell,” she whispered. “I’m not giving up, so you’d better not give up either.”

  Alice came home before supper, as she had promised. Wearily, she sank into a chair in the kitchen. “No luck,” she said glumly.

  “I refuse to get discouraged,” Jane said as she shaped a mixture of bleu cheese, hamburger and spices into meatballs for the marinara sauce she was making for dinner. “Jack O’Hara from Animal Control took one of our flyers and promised to keep an eye out for Wendell.”

  “That’s good,” Louise said from the table where she was shredding lettuce into three bowls. “He could be a big help.”

  “Let’s give it one more good search,” Alice proposed. “Tomorrow after church we all could go over to Potterston and make one last circuit of the area where he disappeared.”

  “I’m game, as long as I have time to visit Mrs. Smeal for a few minutes first. I made her a batch of crème-de-menthe brownies today.” Then Jane pointed to the front of the house. “Did you see your mail on the desk, Alice? There’s a card there.”

  “A card?” Alice looked interested but she made no move to get up as she massaged her aching arches. “Who is it from?”

  “There is no return address,” Jane said. “Sit here and I’ll bring it to you.” She disappeared through the door to the hallway and returned a moment later, bearing a large ivory envelope, which she handed to Alice.

  Alice examined the handwriting. “I’m not familiar with this penmanship.” She tore open the flap and extracted a lovely card with a watercolor picture of a calico cat sitting on a windowsill next to a pot of geraniums. The cat was in profile as it gazed out the window decorated with lacy curtains. Opening the card, Alice said, “Oh, isn’t this sweet.”

  Louise leaned over. “Who is it from?”

  “The ANGELs.” Alice reached for a tissue and read: “Dear Miss Howard, we hope you find Wendell soon. We all are saying prayers for him. Love…” She had to stop reading for a moment to dab at her eyes with the tissue. “They all signed it.” She scanned the various signatures. “Every single one of them.”

  “That’s so thoughtful,” Louise said.

  Alice nodded. “They are a thoughtful group. Let’s hope all those extra prayers help.”

  Chapter Eight

  After Clothilda and her niece had left for dinner, Louise went to the piano. She had purchased a new book of music suitable for wedding celebrations, and she was eager to try it out. First warming up with several of her customary exercises, she then plunged into the book.

  She quickly mastered the songs, which were not terribly challenging but beautifully arranged. After playing for nearly an hour, Louise closed the book and flexed her fingers.

  The sudden sound of clapping startled her, and she whipped around on the piano bench in surprise. Since all the guests had gone out for dinner, she had not thought to close the door, and so her music had drifted throughout the house.

  “Quite excellent, quite excellent.” Maxwell had come into the parlor sometime during her practice session and settled himself into one of the Victorian chairs. “You play quite well. Quite well, indeed.”

  Louise felt herself bristle. She wasn’t sure why Maxwell had that effect on her but she felt as if his words were not the compliments they appeared to be, as if he were denigrating the level of skill to be found in a rural area such as Acorn Hill. “Thank you,” she said politely. “You startled me.”

  He looked contrite. “I’m sorry. My father used to hate it when I ‘sneaked up on him,’ as he called it. I didn’t intend to do that to you. I was just enjoying your music.”

  Her ruffled feathers began to lie down again at the sincerity in his tone, and Louise smiled. “I enjoy it too. Playing piano is one of the most soothing activities I can think of. I always feel more centered and relaxed when I’m done.”

  “The mark of a true musician,” the young man said lightly.

  “So are you finding the atmosphere of Acorn Hill and the inn conducive to a productive writing process?” She placed her music in the piano bench and closed the tapestry cover, then took a seat near Maxwell.

  “Very much so. Everyone’s been very kind, and this mysterious creature that people are buzzing about really has me intrigued.”

  Louise waved a hand as if to downplay the gossip. “I’m sure it will turn out to be some local creature, or perhaps a prankster.”

  “A prankster?” The young man leaned forward. “What makes you suspect that? Do you have any evidence?”

  “No, no.” Louise was a bit taken aback by his intensity. “It’s just that I am quite certain no undiscovered giant creature is lurking about Acorn Hill.”

  “I’m not inclined to believe it, either,” Maxwell confessed, “but I am keeping an open mind.”

  Louise felt rebuked by the statement. “I suppose I’m not, but I am very much a person who requires tangible evidence before I believe something.”

  “But you go to church, don’t you?”

  The unexpected question threw her, and she simply stared at him for a moment. “I—I—you cannot compare spiritual beliefs to the existence of an animal!” She was frustrated and more than a little annoyed that he would try to trap her with her own words.

  “I’m sorry, Louise,” he said immediately. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot. I was not raised in a church, or with any kind of spiritual guidance.”

  Louise took a deep breath and said a silent prayer for patience, moved by a sudden image of a lonely little boy to whom scant attention was paid. “The whole point of spiritual faith is the ability to see the miraculous in the everyday things, and to trust that if God can create such miracles as those around us in our daily lives, then He certainly is capable of larger actions. The ultimate miracle, of course, being the risen Christ after the death of His earthly body.”

  Maxwell was silent for a moment. “You know,” he finally said, “I consider myself highly educated compared to the average person. But I am appallingly ignorant of all but the sketchiest details of the Christian faith—or any other, for that matter. Would you and your sisters allow me to accompany you to church tomorrow?”

  Louise was astonished at the request. “Of course you may. Our newest guest, Mrs. Moeller will be going with us. We would like very much for you to join our party.”

  Maxwell smiled. “The words ‘party’ and ‘church’ don’t mesh well in my mind.”

  “Well, they should,” Louise said. “Expressions of faith should be joyous—exuberant, even, on some occasions.”

  There was a short silence following Louise’s words. She felt heat rise to her cheeks.

  “Louise…” Maxwell’s voice was hesitant. “I wonder if you have a Bible I might borrow. You have made me curious, and I think I would like to study it.”

  “I do, and I have something else you might enjoy. Follow me.” Louise rose, heading for the library, once her father’s office, where an extensive collection of faith-based volumes were still stored. “There’s a book my father used to love. He
gave it to my daughter Cynthia when she joined our church in Philadelphia many years ago. It is meant to be used as a study aid with the Bible and is an excellent overview of the history of Christianity. I’m sure my sisters would want me to lend it to you while you are staying with us.”

  “Thank you.” Maxwell’s voice was soft. “I will look forward to reading both books.”

  “And any time you have questions, Alice, Jane and I would be delighted to talk with you.”

  After leaving Maxwell sitting in the library with the Bible and the study guide, Louise went in search of her sisters. She was eager to tell them of the surprising turn of events.

  Clothilda and her niece Amanda returned from dinner shortly before eight. Jane introduced them to Louise and Alice, and then Amanda bid her aunt farewell.

  “I’ll be back to get you in eighteen days,” the young woman told Clothilda.

  Clothilda nodded. “I will be… okay with this good people.”

  Jane beamed. “Of course you will. We’ll take the very best care of you. And don’t forget, our aunt, Ethel Buckley, speaks German and is eager to meet you.”

  “Oh, good,” said Amanda. “Her lack of English was my biggest hesitation in leaving Aunt Clo.”

  “Is not a problem. You go, come back after two weeks. Okay?”

  Amanda laughed. “Okay.” She kissed her aunt, said good-bye to the Howard sisters and walked off to her car to begin her drive back to Philadelphia.

  Clothilda smiled at the sisters, and then covered her mouth with a yawn. “Excuse me. I am finding this traveling to be… to make me sleepy very much.”

  Alice chuckled. “I work as a nurse, and I, too, am very sleepy. I’ll be going to bed very soon.”

  “I think I go up now and maybe read and fall asleep. Thank you for your welcoming. I look forward to your breakfast and your church tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful,” Jane said. “Good night, Clothilda.”

  Jane had called Ethel on Saturday evening to let her know Clothilda had arrived. So early on Sunday morning, Jane was not surprised to see her aunt picking her way along the path from the carriage house where she made her home.