by Lee Pulaski
“Christopher and my father are over at Lake Winnebago doing some sturgeon spearing and won’t be back until Wednesday. My mother took a trip to the Twin Cities for a conference on Native Americans and herbs and will not return until next week. My ninety-one-year-old grandmother is partially blind and never learned to drive a vehicle, so I had to search outside my family for someone to rescue me.”
A white tow truck pulled off the highway and into the parking area near the falls. Anne Marie stepped out of the Jeep to talk with the driver. Zachary watched the exchange and saw how confident Anne Marie was. What he was seeing did not mesh with what she had just told him. Then again, Zachary often had self-doubts that he didn’t share with anyone else. Of course, now that Newell was in the picture, he had one haven for sharing his feelings. It was definitely good to unload when the world got to be too much.
Anne Marie climbed back into the Jeep as the driver started hooking up her car to his truck. “Good. It’s heading to my mechanic for a look-see, so we can head out.” She patted Toby on the head, and the dog’s tail thumped on the back seat as it wagged.
“So am I taking you over to the mechanic?” Zachary asked as he turned the Jeep out of the parking lot.
Anne Marie shook her head. “Mac will call me once he’s figured out what the issue is. No, I think I’ll try to get some work done at the gallery. There are still a lot of preparations to be made.”
“Okay, I’m curious as to why you had to come out here to talk to your Creator. Isn’t there a home prayer you could have done? Lit some candles? Burned some sage?”
“I should probably have some books on Menominee traditions sent to you. I chose to go to Keshena Falls for answers for a variety of reasons. It’s heavily wooded, and it’s right next to the Wolf River, which is home to our sacred sturgeon. I was hoping that burning some cedar in that special place and ingesting the smoke as I prayed might provide me with some insight.”
“Did you get any?”
“I didn’t think so at the time, but when you were giving me that pep talk a few minutes ago, I realized the answers I was seeking were coming through you.”
“Wow. I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever claimed I was some deity’s mouthpiece.”
“You should be flattered. How many Native Americans actually claim their problems were solved by some white guy?”
Zachary laughed. “I understand where you’re coming from, though. Sometimes, when I’m dealing with a complex issue, I just look at Toby or Midnight, and even though they can’t talk, it’s like they’re mentally giving me guidance.”
Anne Marie pet Toby on the head. “It’s true. Sometimes, it’s what isn’t spoken that resonates the most.”
“I’m really looking forward to the reception Friday night and seeing what big exhibit you’re starting out with.”
“Well, since you’re being kind enough to take me to the gallery and rescuing me from the cold, I think it entitles you to a sneak peek.”
Zachary’s jaw dropped. “Really? I don’t want to impose. Aren’t you afraid I’ll blab?”
“Zach, you and I have known each other for a number of years. In all that time, you’ve never blabbed about anything. You’re like the gatekeeper for all of Gresham’s secrets.”
“Thanks.” Zachary thought about it for a moment. “I think.”
Toby yipped from the backseat, and his tail wagged as his tongue hung out. Anne Marie laughed and hugged the dog around the neck.
“We should probably stop at the house and drop Toby off. I’m thinking you don’t want your opening exhibit to be covered in dog hair.”
“That might turn off some of the art snobs, so it would probably be best.”
Toby whined like he couldn’t believe he wasn’t invited to see the art. Zachary chuckled as he made the turn off the state highway onto County Road G, which would lead them back to Gresham. After a quick stop at the farm to drop Toby off, the Jeep was bound for the village. Zachary was eager to see what Anne Marie had developed for her opening volley in the war on establishing culture in Gresham. Being a lover of the arts in all its forms, he was eager to see Anne Marie make history.
After pulling up to the gallery, which was next door to The Literary Barn, Zachary and Anne Marie walked up to the door. Anne Marie was fishing in her backpack for her key when a voice across the road called out, “Anne Marie! I need to speak with you!”
Zachary and Anne Marie looked across the street and let out simultaneous groans. The person standing on the sidewalk was Jacob Malueg, the chairman of the village board. He had a reputation for trying to get the board involved in matters that were none of its business and sticking his own nose into the affairs of the local business owners. Zachary knew that Jacob had previously tried to hold Anne Marie’s efforts to open the art gallery on at least two occasions. Was the latest visit a last-ditch effort by Jacob to bury her dream?
“I suppose it’s too late to act like we didn’t hear him,” Zachary said quietly as he and Anne Marie watched Jacob look for a break in traffic so he could cross the street.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll get plowed down by a semi.”
“Not enough luck in the world.”
Jacob was now crossing the street, and both Anne Marie and Zachary took a deep breath to prepare for the coming storm.
“Anne Marie, we need to talk about your gallery opening this week.” Jacob turned to Zachary. “Don’t you have a bookstore that needs to be opened?”
Zachary folded his arms. “We’re closed on Mondays, kind of like your mind is every day of the year. Besides, we were in the middle of business when you decided to interrupt.”
“What business could an artist have with a used book store owner?”
Zachary wished he were a less moral person so he could clock Jacob, not only for the wisecrack but for the fact that the used book reference was inaccurate. Instead, he smiled like a mature human being and said, “Whatever my business is, it’s none of yours, Jacob.”
“I agree,” Anne Marie chimed in. “So why don’t you quit doing your Adolf Hitler impersonation and get to the point? I have a lot of work to do.”
“I’m assuming that work includes sending out invitations for your opening, considering I didn’t receive one.”
Anne Marie scoffed. “Jacob, you’ve tried to impede me every step of the way as I’ve tried to open this gallery. You tried to bully me into agreeing to let the village board decide what exhibits I can hold in the gallery, and when I told you to stick it, you tried to convince the board to change the downtown zoning to not allow art sales or exhibits. Fortunately, the other board members had the fortitude to tell you to butt out. Now why would I want you to darken my gallery after all of that?”
“You don’t think it would enhance your reputation to have a member of the village board present at your debut opening?”
“I do think that would enhance the gallery’s reputation, which is why Felicia Bellwether and Jerry Nolan both agreed to come Friday night. Felicia even plans to make a few remarks.”
Jacob’s face turned so red that it looked like he might burst into flames. “I will not forget this slight, Anne Marie. Mark my words, if I get one complaint about the gallery, I’ll...”
A glint of fire flashed in Anne Marie’s eyes as a determined expression spread on her face. “You’ll stay right in your little hovel and keep your nose out of local businesses. I know for a fact that Sigrid almost filed a lawsuit when you tried to sic a building inspector on her when she remodeled her business into a supper club, and you’ve gained a few enemies by cherry picking downtown businesses to harass. Now, Zachary and I will be continuing our business, and you’ll be on your way, Jacob. Do I make myself clear?”
Jacob opened his mouth like he was going to respond, but then he harrumphed and started down the sidewalk toward the village hall. He hadn’t made it more than ten paces when he slipped on a patch of ice on the sidewalk. Zachary had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from la
ughing out loud. Anne Marie made no such effort, as a giggle escaped her lips.
“Do you think the Creator is smiling down on us and making Jacob pay for his bad karma?”
Zachary shook his head. “No. Karmic justice would be him slipping on ice at the top of a very steep hill. Besides, he’s getting back up again. Let’s get inside before he decides to inflict more of his bad mood on us.”
The inside of the gallery was pitch black, with the help of a dark curtain on the front door to conceal the interior until Friday’s opening. Once inside, Anne Marie flipped on the lights, and color flowed back into the room like river water being released from a dam. Paintings were hanging on walls, all clear for viewing except for one that had a black drape on it. There were also coverings on a number of sculptures and other items near the painting. However, the art that was visible to view included a painting of a bowl of cherries, another of an old barn on a country road, and several photos of old time Gresham from the turn of the twentieth century.
“Zach, you are about to become the first person, aside from the contractors I hired to hang these paintings, to see the heart of my first exhibit. You know Osgood and Muriel Reimer, don’t you?”
Zachary nodded. “Osgood’s family is known throughout northern Wisconsin for having the tastiest beef jerky—He even has the nickname ‘Beef Jerky.’ Their primary processing plant is in Shawano County near Mattoon. Muriel’s side of the family has had several generations dedicated to developing the tastiest cherries coming out of Door County. They’ve both run a lean and mean food operation on their farm near Tilleda for more than fifty years, ever since they married. Some folks have even said stepping into their stores is like a cross between beef jerky and cherries jubilee.”
“They are among the more famous people here in the county, and last year, the artist Jasper Walters was commissioned to do a painting for the Reimers’ fifty-fifth anniversary. Other local artists created additional pieces to symbolize their eternal love and devotion.”
Zachary pointed to the covered painting. “Is that Jasper Walters’ work? Someone must have sold their soul to get him to do the painting, as he rarely takes commissions anymore.”
Anne Marie nodded and grinned. “Not only were we able to get the painting and some of the other art pieces to display here, but Jasper Walters himself is going to be here to unveil the painting to the public. Behold!”
Anne Marie pulled off the drape, revealing a six-foot painting with Osgood and Muriel Reimer looking at each other with love in their eyes. On the left side of the painting, where Osgood was standing, there were strips of beef jerky rippling in a stream bed. On the right side next to Muriel, a blizzard of cherries was falling on a grassy meadow.
Zachary stared at the painting for a couple of minutes. It was breathtaking. He wished he could take it home and hang it in the living room. It was rural beauty at its finest, and Zachary knew that the painting alone would make the gallery opening an epic smash.
“I plan to call the exhibit ‘When Beef Jerky Met Cherries Jubilee.’ So what do you think?”
Zachary folded his arms behind his head and whistled approvingly. “If this is your idea of an opening exhibit, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
CHAPTER TWO
Zachary took a bite out of his candy bar as he looked at his stack of poker chips. Then he glanced at the five cards in his hands. He had a pair of deuces, the queen of hearts and two tens in his possession. It wasn’t the strongest hand, but he’d managed to bluff his way to a two-person showdown with Newell. The problem was that Newell knew whenever he bluffed, so if he was sticking it out, he had a good hand—one that was likely better than his.
Zachary glanced around the table. Alexander, his right hand man at The Literary Barn, was sitting to his left, munching popcorn while his gaze moved from Zachary to Newell and back to Zachary again. Sitting to his immediate right was Sasha, one of his best friends, who was counting the chips in her pile. To Sasha’s right was Gwendolen, Zachary’s new employee, and she was nibbling on a block of cheese while twirling a strand of her purple hair.
Newell gave a sly smile. “The bet’s to you, sweetie.”
“I believe the bet is to you.” Zachary took another bite from the candy bar.
Newell smirked, like he knew full well that it was his turn to bet. “Okay, then I’ll see your thirty and raise you ten. Now it’s your bet.”
Zachary set his jaw. “See your ten and raise you twenty.”
“I’ll call. Put up or shut up, lover.”
“Two pair, tens over deuces. Beat that.”
Newell snarled. “Pair of aces.” He threw his cards on the table as Zachary cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West getting her hands on the ruby slippers.
Sasha rolled her eyes. “God! Why can’t you two just hit each other like other couples with unexpressed rage?”
“That’s nothing,” Alexander said as he chewed on a couple of pretzel sticks. “I knew this couple that entered the same singles tennis tournament, and they were both so good that they ended up facing each other in the finals. It was all innocent enough—until John beat Calvin in straight sets, and Calvin smashed him over the head with the racket.”
“See, Sasha? Compared to this John and Calvin pair, we’re a well-adjusted couple,” Zachary said with a bite of candy bar in his mouth. “We’re the freakin’ ambassadors of peace.”
Newell raised an eyebrow. “That reminds me, dear. We’re leaving early next week for that goodwill mission in Guanoville, so we need to rent a couple of tuxedoes for that state dinner.”
Gwendolen shuffled the cards. “I can’t wait to see the new art gallery open in the next few days. It’s so awesome to see some more art in this tiny village. Plus, it’s awesome that the gallery is going to feature Muriel and Osgood Reiter. They’re like royalty in farming circles in northeast Wisconsin. To have such a loving couple create such an amazing empire, I’d love to see the artwork created to symbolize their love for each other and their dedication to this area. I hope I end up in a forever love like that someday.”
“It’ll happen,” Alexander said as he reorganized his chips. “Just look at me and Murphy. We’ve been through a lot together, but we’re still standing proud.”
At that moment, Murphy stepped out of the bathroom as the sound of the toilet flushing could be heard. “Sorry, everyone. What did I miss?”
“Gwendolen pining for art and romance. Also, the competitive couple ended up in a bidding war, and Zachary came out on top.”
“Don’t I always?” Zachary asked as he stood up to grab another soda from the refrigerator.
“You wish, and we are not that competitive,” Newell said.
“At least, not as competitive as Joe and Calvin,” Alexander noted.
Murphy winced. “Wow! You compared them to Joe and Calvin? There’s no comparison.”
Zachary threw up his hands in triumph. “Thank you.”
“Besides, this is all in good fun,” Newell said as he returned to the table. “Zachary and I enjoy teasing each other. It’s part of a healthy relationship.”
Sasha turned to Alexander and Murphy. “Do you guys tease each other?”
Murphy chuckled. “Constantly. For example, Alexander has this birth mark on his right b...”
Alexander quickly covered Murphy’s mouth with his hand as he gave a nervous chuckle. “I think the new medication he’s on has given him a temporary case of Tourette’s Syndrome.”
“Okay. Funny hour is over,” Gwendolen said as she started dealing the cards. “The game is five-card draw, suicide kings are wild.”
“You know, I think it’s great that Anne Marie is opening her art gallery,” Sasha said as she gathered her cards. “It adds well to the cultured motif that the downtown is starting to be known for. If our illustrious tourism manager, Vera Greenwood, is smart, she’ll try to attract some of the artsy types to our fair hamlet—stop for lunch at Sigrid’s, check out the amazing works at the White E
agle Gallery and finish up with strolling out of The Literary Barn with tote bags overflowing with books.”
Zachary beamed. “I like how you think. I’m sure Vera is working all the angles, crazy capitalist that she is. Of course, we’ve got it all worked out among us neighbors. Reduced price meals and coupons for books, along with reduced prices on prints at the gallery. The downtown businesses really look out for each other.”
“I can’t wait to see how well we do once summer hits again. Gresham is really coming into its own as a destination.”
“Yeah, but the problem is we have very little in the way of lodging. Besides the Wildcat Bed and Breakfast, Gresham only has one motel, and it only has about a dozen rooms.”
“There are a couple of good spots on the edge of the village that would be good for a hotel,” Murphy said as he glanced at his cards. “If someone had the stamina for it, they’d be able to make a pretty good living hosting tourists.”
“If someone had the moola, too,” Newell said. “We’d have to figure out who has deep pockets around here that would be willing to finance such a project.”
Zachary bit his lip. “Newell, Murphy, neither one of you were around the last time someone tried to start a hotel here. Back then, Jacob Malueg had a lot more influence on the village board, and he submarined the request for a business license. Only Felicia Bellwether voted in favor of the hotel, so the investors decided to build it in Wittenberg.”
“That was about three years ago,” Sasha chimed in. “You know that Jacob has a lot less influence over the board these days. It might be worth someone trying again. If we could get more people staying in town, the activity possibilities could be endless.”
“The trick is finding someone with money burning holes in their pockets.”
Newell shivered. “It’s getting nippy in here again. I’ll stoke the fireplace.” He set his cards face down and walked to the fireplace.
“I wonder why Anne Marie decided to open in the middle of February,” Alexander mused.
