The article provided assurance that the Ball was a family event; people of all ages were welcome. Although nursery care would not be provided, games for kids old enough to follow directions would be organized by Cheyanne Bascomb of Happy Kids Daycare in Waabishki. People were encouraged to “come as you are;” no one should stay away for lack of fancy clothing.
On an inside page was a sizeable column proclaiming the many prizes that could be won with the purchase of raffle tickets at the door, proceeds to benefit the county animal shelter. There was also a listing of every person and every business that was known to have offered items or volunteered time. I couldn’t imagine how Jerry had kept track of all those donations. It was more evidence of how good he was at reporting small town news. He was like Adele, except that his family, for four generations, had made a legitimate career out of knowing what everyone was doing. It was suddenly easy to understand why someone might hold a long-standing grudge against the Caulfields, perhaps for revealing some family secret they preferred to keep hidden. After all, at the core of the recent mysterious events was an apparent threat directed at Jerry, not at me.
I pondered all this as I decorated, and resolved to keep track of the Fannings at the Ball. The evening was bound to be filled with distractions, giving someone a perfect opportunity to carry out a “nefarious deed.” That seemed so unlikely, and I laughed at myself for thinking in Shakespearean terms. And yet, there had already been one very real murder. In this very building.
On Thursday, Jerry’s weekly rush to get the paper out was past, and he caught me climbing down off a ladder for the hundredth time. Or the thousandth. My calves couldn’t tell any more, they were so sore.
“This place looks positively gorgeous,” Jerry raved. “You’ve accomplished a miracle. It smells wonderful too.”
I had to admit that the odors of damp leaves carried in on all the feet that had passed through the doors, bales of hay, the ripe grain, and the spicy oil had combined to create a delicious autumnal aroma.
“Wait until the pumpkin and apple tarts arrive. By then the woodwork will smell good enough to eat.” I teased.
“I love how the hallway looks like a sidewalk café. The pots of chrysanthemums sure brighten it up. Let’s bring in more leaves. It’s impossible to keep them out anyway.”
“Works for me,” I said, mentally adding a rake to the list of things I’d need to bring next time.
Jerry switched topics. “I came by to ask what you’re wearing Saturday night.”
“Wearing? I don’t know. Jeans and a sweater, I suppose.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “You are the unofficial hostess of the Harvest Ball. Everyone knows how much work you’ve put into it, and that you will be my date.”
“You’re kidding, right? It’s ‘come as you are.’ Your own paper said so,” I protested, stooping over to pick up the end of an electrical cord. “Look at this.”
I pushed the plug into an outlet and garlands of tiny lights clustered within orange and red lanterns glowed and winked through the construction paper bars. “It’s even better with the big lights out.”
“I’m serious. You need a nice gown, and I need to know what color it is.”
“Gown?” Now he had my attention. I frowned. “I don’t know if I still have anything one would consider a gown. What are you wearing, tails?” I joked.
“As a matter of fact, I am. The suit was my grandfather’s. It fits me quite well. Dark gray.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.
“Oh bother! Jerry, I don’t have time to shop for a dress,” I whined.
“Sure you do. This afternoon. I insist. Go to Emily City. I’ve arranged for Adele to go with you,” he announced.
I placed my hands on my temples and squeezed, rubbing my fingertips over my tired, closed eyes. When I opened them, Jerry was holding out a folded wad of money.
“Take it,” he ordered.
“No thank you,” I said. I was tempted to say a lot more.
“You have to,” Jerry insisted.
“Indeed, I don’t have to do everything you tell me to.” Suddenly, I’d had about enough of having Jerry’s plans direct every moment of my life for the past several weeks. I reached down and yanked the light plug out of the socket.
“I’m not explaining this well,” he countered, letting his hand drop to his side.
“You’re not explaining it at all,” I said.
“Look. This is part of the ploy. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But you’ve got to be dressed up, stunning, the Belle of the Ball. Cora will be so angry that I’ve had my head turned by a pretty young woman she’ll be ready to pop a corset stay.”
“I don’t think even Cora wears a corset,” I said dryly.
“Ok, probably not. Anyway, when I make the big announcement that I’ve purchased the building for her museum and I would like her to be my bride again, she’ll be overwhelmed with joy that I want her instead of a glittering bauble...”
“Glittering bauble! Give me a break. You should be a playwright. No, make that a scripter of soap operas.”
Chapter 41
Nevertheless, I gave in to Jerry’s request. It turned out that Adele had very good taste in clothing when she was shopping for someone else, and she knew of several small specialty shops in Emily City. We finally chose a black floor-length dress in a soft fabric that draped nicely. It was neither a sheath nor full. The top had a bateau neckline, and it came with a black lace jacket. I owned a jade necklace and earrings that I thought would work with it. As a final splurge, with my own money I bought a mossy green clutch purse to complement the jade.
“You’ve got to call Jerry right away, and tell him about this,” Adele admonished. “He’ll want to order flowers.”
I looked at her askance. “Whatever for? You’d think this was the prom. It’s a family night with hay bales and a horse wagon.”
“Not for you, it isn’t. Jerry is serious about you being his hostess. I’m sure he’s thinking way beyond this weekend.” She puckered her lips and gave a mincing little shrug.
“Um... Yes, I’m sure he is,” I agreed as I pulled out my cell phone. But I knew Adele had no idea exactly what he was thinking.
That evening, Chad called to report that he and three friends would be leaving after Brittney’s last class on Friday and should arrive by midnight. I reminded him that I had no extra beds and they would be strictly in camping mode at my house.
“Not a problem, Ma,” he said cheerfully. “The girls are bringing a blow-up mattress and Ryan and I will just sleep on the floor. The girls can have that little room I used before.”
“There are two small rooms off the living room—one each for men and women. You can consider it the weekend dormitory.”
“Anything is better than the dorms,” he said with a laugh.
“Glad to oblige, but you’ll have to fight over the one bathroom,” I countered.
Jerry had urged me to take a break from the decorating on Friday. It was hard for me to let go. I’d been concentrating on getting everything set for so long it didn’t seem right to just stop working on it. But the truth was the school was ready to hold the biggest party of the decade in Forest County, and despite the intense effort it took to pull it off, the facility was pretty much in working order and the decorations were looking good.
By Friday evening, the black dress was pressed and safely hanging in a plastic cover in my closet, the jade jewelry was cleaned; I’d shined my low black heels and located black underwear. I’d had to buy a pair of stockings, since I could find none in my drawer with no runs. The number of times I’d worn a dress since moving to Cherry Hill could be counted on one hand.
I’d been grocery shopping, made a huge bowl of taco salad, filled the freezer with ice cream, the refrigerator with milk and pop, and the cupboard with cereal, salty snacks and cookies. A bowl of fruit sat on the counter. I hoped I was ready for the college kids.
It was a good thing I’d taken th
e day off, or redirected my efforts at any rate. Getting ready for four young people and a dress-up affair was a project in itself.
I dozed on the couch until I was awakened by laughter and pounding footsteps on the terrace. Just as someone knocked, I opened the door and the kids piled into the living room. The rain hadn’t really stopped all week. In fact, it was still drizzling, and water droplets glistened on their shoulders and hair. The boys were lugging large duffel bags with pillows and folded blankets tucked under their arms. A tall girl carried an overnight case, and the other one had a backpack slung over one shoulder.
Chad stamped his feet on the mat and despite being in the presence of friends, gave me a bear hug. “Ma, this is Ryan, Brittney and Audra.”
Ryan was short and skinny with dark hair and eyes. Brittney was a willowy blond, and Audra a plump brunette. They all smiled tentatively at me.
“Call me Ana. I’m glad you made it without any problems. You’ll have those two little rooms for sleeping,” I said, pointing to the far side of the living room. “The bathroom’s upstairs, and there’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
That seemed to break the ice, and everyone began talking at once.
“The temperature’s dropping like a rock,” Ryan said, letting the duffels and bedding fall to the floor and rubbing his arms in an apparent effort to warm them.
Brittney asked, “Which way to the stairs?” and made a beeline when I pointed her in the right direction.
Chad and Audra began to sort out the equipment and poked their heads into the small rooms. One was completely empty, and I’d begun to arrange the other as an office, but all it held were a desk and chair and some boxes of receipts and mail. “We’ll take the office room,” Chad said.
Audra nodded approval and began lugging a large duffel into the empty room. “I’ll get this mattress blown up,” she announced to no one in particular.
Because Chad had been here before, he knew his way around the kitchen. The kids were soon munching on pretzels and cookies and downing bottles of pop. They quizzed me on how to get to the school, and if they’d be able to arrange their props and practice the skit before show time. I gave them all the necessary information, and headed upstairs to my bedroom.
I could still hear their laughter and chatting when I drifted off to sleep. As much as I liked living alone, it was nice to occasionally have young people in the house.
Chapter 42
My alarm went off at eight. I quietly made coffee and slipped out the kitchen door with a few snacks of my own in a tote bag. There wasn’t a peep coming from the other side of the house where the young people had crashed sometime after two a.m.
Thankfully, I arrived at the school before anyone else. I knew the day would be one long parade of deliveries, challenges, and probably a good many small snafus to sort out.
I walked through the building checking out all the rooms that would be in use. Most of the activity would be centered in the main auditorium which would serve as ballroom, theatre and general meeting place. However, the front hallway, looking lovely as a sidewalk café, would also be highly used. The setting was better than ever. Someone, Jerry I presumed, had brought in several brightly painted doors and fastened them somehow against the inside wall, increasing the appearance of a row of small shops with outdoor tables. There was also a life-size statue of a dog, with tongue lolling, seated beside one door. Whoever brought it had added a collar and a leash which trailed on the “ground”—the obedient dog waiting while its master shopped. The sprinkling of autumn leaves on the floor and the pots of chrysanthemums completed the atmosphere.
Down the hallway to the left, the first room on the outside wall was ready to receive the food. It was painted, cleaned, and filled with two rows of long tables covered with plastic. Against one wall was another row of tables, already arranged with piles of foam plates and cups, napkins, and disposable flatware. Condiments were on yet another table which also held three large beverage dispensers. I presumed they were empty at this point. Trash cans flanked the doorway, both inside the room and in the hall. The biggest problem with the food service was that the kitchen was the opposite direction, down the main hallway. Although Jerry had managed to get the refrigerator, stove and hot and cold running water working, the cafeteria itself had badly-damaged walls and wasn’t useable. The caterers, Janice, Jimmie, and whoever else they recruited, would have to run back and forth between the kitchen and the “food room.”
The next room to the left was designated the coat room. It probably would have been good to organize some sort of check system, but there hadn’t been time. We’d managed to borrow a good many racks and hangers from churches and businesses. And we’d put extra tables in the room. People would have to fend for themselves, and hopefully wouldn’t leave valuables in their wraps, although I realized small town folks had a different mentality than I on this topic. They pretty much trusted everyone. I thought again about the grisly scene Jerry and I had found almost directly below where I was standing, and doubted that any town could count on that sort of innocence any more, if it had ever been real at all.
At the end of the hall, the kids’ game room was also cleaned and painted. It looked like Cheyanne might have stopped in on Friday as there were several cartons of equipment stacked against one wall. Through the mesh of plastic crates I saw balls, bowling pins, and other brightly colored objects. Several hula hoops leaned against the pile.
My last stops on the checklist were the restrooms just across from the game room. They were clean and all the stalls had doors that locked. Although the sinks were stained, they had been scoured, and the hot and cold water worked.
Beyond the lavatories, a wire gate had been extended across the side hall and locked to block access to the rest of the building. I knew there was a matching gate which was closed around the corner at the far end of the front hall. Seeing the gates made me wonder if people would be able to access the upstairs. I climbed to the second floor and found there was also a gate there, closing off the upper hallway. I checked, and it was locked securely. At the far end I could see yet another gate which would stop people who came up the stairs at the east end of the building.
Everything seemed to be prepared as well as could be expected, and better than I had dared to hope.
I descended and headed back toward the main entrance just in time to intercept a man and woman who were carrying large black cases.
“We’re The Blue Grass,” the man said. “The band. Where do we set up?”
Another man pulled open the entrance door and struggled to drag a large box on wheels through. I hurried to his aid, and jammed a triangular doorstop underneath the heavy unwieldy door. Cold air rushed in and a breeze stirred the leaves on the floor. It smelled like November, not October.
“Straight through those double doors,” I said. “You’ll be to the right on the stage. I’ll show you.” Two more women with guitar cases traipsed in behind the large wheeled box.
The day’s madness had begun.
Before I finished showing The Blue Grass where the electric outlets were, Janice, her husband and Suzi pulled up in a van and began carrying in trays loaded with tarts. I directed Janice to the kitchen. She said she’d find what she needed and called over her shoulder that Jimmie Mosher and Jack Panther were both going to help serve.
Loud music was coming from the auditorium/ballroom, and I realized the band was playing a CD for their entertainment while they were setting up.
Cheyanne must have arrived in the meantime because I saw a flash of pink, head height, disappear through the far door. A young boy, about six years old, was running full tilt down the hallway, sliding on the loose leaves and yelling with delight.
“Geronimo!” he screamed. He ran up several stairs at the end of the hall, turned and jumped into the leaves. His enthusiastic leap propelled him into a table, which overturned, dumping the tablecloth and a vase of silk flowers onto the floor. I hurried toward him with the goal of finding out who
se responsibility he was, and to right the table. Thankfully the vase was plastic and didn’t break.
Cheyanne stuck her head out of the game room door and admonished, “Cody, get in here this minute. You can run off that energy in this room. Not in the hall. Sorry.” Her voice had changed on the final word as she turned to me and rolled her eyes.
“Yours?” I asked.
“All forty-eight pounds of him,” she giggled, grabbing his arm and forcing him through the door. “He was with his dad last weekend, so you didn’t meet him then.”
“Ms. Raven!” the guy from the band who had introduced himself as Mick called, striding toward me. “Can we get access to that balcony? We’d like to clamp our lights on the railing.”
I wasn’t sure if my key set included one for the gates, but I beckoned to him and we climbed the stairs. There were several keys on the ring that I knew didn’t fit the front door or the interior doors.
“That one,” Mick said, jabbing a finger at a key that was entirely different from the others.
I tried it, and the gate accordioned open with some pushing, creaking and sticking. I was irritated just because a man had felt the need to point out the obvious to a female. Better get over it, I told myself. There are going to be a lot of requests and directives and annoyances today. Just to preserve my position of authority, though, I had the key to the balcony already between my fingers before we reached the doors.
“There you go. Will you need access to this for the evening?” I asked.
“It would be good,” was his immediate response. “I can run the light and sound board from up here.”
“I’ll see if I can find another key for the gates. We don’t want everyone in town to be wandering through the building,” I said.
We had descended to the railing at the front edge of the raked balcony, and as I looked over, Chad, Ryan, Brittney and Audra burst into sight in the main ballroom. Mick immediately began snaking cords over the edge.
Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp Page 19
