Читать книгу Forget Me Not - Marion Ekholm - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

AN HOUR LATER Trish came out of her house to discover Craig on the roof again, this time with a crew of two men she didn’t recognize. He came down the ladder and walked over to her. “There are one or two more places that need repair, but I checked with Max. Moody’s Lumber replaced the roof about ten years ago. You should get at least ten more, providing you’re not hit by another wicked storm. We’ll do that one side so you won’t be able to see any difference with the older shingles.”

“Thank you,” Trish said. “Anyone with fewer scruples could have insisted I needed the whole roof replaced. Can I get you anything? Lunches for you and your men?”

“That’s a nice thought, but we’ve already made plans with some other guys from the lumber company. We meet at Drexel’s Deli whenever we’re working. You’re welcome to join us.”

A voice from on high said, “Yeah, join us. We could really use someone with a little more class.”

Craig glanced up before turning back to her with a chuckle. “Ignore Ray. He’s the only low-class jerk in the group.”

“I heard that,” the man shouted, “and he’s right!”

“Thanks for the invite, but I bought some groceries yesterday. Another time,” she said to the men on the roof. Smiling, she turned to Craig. “If I’m not needed here, I’ll head into town.”

Craig started for his van, which was blocking her Toyota. “I’ll get this out of your way.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m going to walk. I’d like to check out several places, and I don’t need my car.”

“Okay. We should have all the roof repairs completed this afternoon, and I’ll finish the prospectus tomorrow morning for the other projects we discussed.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Trish started down the street at a brisk walk, listening to the rat-tat-tat of hammers ringing their song throughout the neighborhood. Once she and Craig went over the repairs, she could prioritize, budget her money and get the most for her dollar. In the meantime, Trish planned to check out Henry’s Antiques and show him the pictures she’d taken.

The temperature had become a little nippy, and she double-wrapped her green scarf around her neck. The sound of leaves crunching under her sneakers gave her the true feeling of fall. Some chestnuts had fallen, and she picked them up along with a perfect red maple leaf that had escaped the street sweepers. She twirled the stem and stopped in front of the house once owned by Craig’s family.

Several people were outside raking the leaves. They turned to wave to her. “Hello,” she called out. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Before you know it we’ll have snow.”

How sad for Craig to lose his father and then his home. Yet the joy that lit Craig’s features when he mentioned Noah warmed her heart. What would it be like to have a sibling that young? Craig and Trish had often regretted being the only children in their families. Now Craig had one up on her. The thought brought a smile, and she continued to Henry’s.

Center Street, in the older part of town, had turned into a mixture of commercial and residential buildings with several businesses in some of the older homes. One magnificent brick estate, built more than a hundred years ago, posted a doctor’s sign in front. Across the street, Gram’s lawyer had taken residence. Trish had spent the day there when all her grandmother’s possessions were transferred.

The fire department sat on a corner with Moody’s Lumber Company farther down the block. A portion of the grammar school Trish and Craig had walked to could be glimpsed behind the pharmacy, where one could still sit at the counter and order a sundae.

She stopped in front of Henry’s Antiques. At one time a five-and-dime, the shop had remained unoccupied until Henry moved in and removed the sign. Thanks to the dark green trimming, the dusky red building had a Christmas look. Trish glanced at some of the items displayed in the crowded windows before stepping into the store. An armoire in pale blue with a floral design painted on the large doors looked elegant and expensive. Very similar to her grandmother’s. Would Henry want her grandmother’s things in this shop? Determined to find out, Trish headed for the counter.

“Hello,” a man called. Although out of sight, he continued to talk. “Look around. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Trish waited by a tall golden dresser, something with a Chinese influence and definitely pricey. The other items arranged around the room had a classiness beyond her grandmother’s dusty collection. She turned when a thin man with gray hair and a matching goatee approached. “How may I help you?” Definitely a different voice from the one that had invited her in.

“Henry?”

“One of them. I’m Stanley Henry.” He turned and motioned to the younger man with similar features coming from the back. “This is my nephew Dave. And you are...?”

“Trish Lowery.” She expected some recognition of her last name. After all, her family had lived in the town for nearly one hundred years. Nothing.

“Were you looking for something specific?” Stanley asked.

“No. I’m interested in selling some of my grandmother’s antiques. I have pictures, if you’d like to see them.”

Dave Henry, who had a pleasant smile and blond hair, came over. “Lowery, you say. As in Helen Lowery?”

Stanley looked at his nephew with a quizzical expression. “Of course, Helen Lowery, from one of the founding families, the lady who recently died?” He turned back to Trish and approached, his hand extended. “Our condolences. And you have something to show us?”

With his demeanor becoming more gracious, Stanley gripped her hand. Trish suddenly felt like a field mouse trapped by a marauding hawk. She pulled free. “Um, I have a question. Do you purchase antiques outright to sell in your store?”

Stanley sighed. “Unfortunately, we can’t. Not enough space.” He smiled, helping to displace the hawk image. “Most of the items here,” he said, waving his hand around the shop, “are on consignment. I run another store in Manhattan, and we also advertise on the internet. I’m sure we can give your grandmother’s items a proper showplace and get you the best possible price.”

Trish held out her cell phone, displaying the picture of her grandmother’s bedroom furniture. Stanley took her phone as Dave came over to join his uncle. “We really need to see your treasures in person. May we make an appointment?”

Trish pulled her phone back. “Of course.”

“Okay if I handle this?” Dave asked. He nodded toward his uncle before turning back to Trish. “When are you available?”

Trish appreciated Dave taking over the conversation. “Anytime today. The sooner the better. I have a limited time here, and I need this resolved before I leave.”

“Would this afternoon be appropriate? At two? I know the address.” He turned to his uncle. “If you wouldn’t mind watching the store for me?”

With a nod, Trish thanked them and headed for the door, followed closely by Dave. After opening the door for her, he said, “I’m sure your grandmother has lovely items, and we’ll be able to work out some satisfactory plans for them.” He offered his hand. “Very nice meeting you, Ms. Lowery.”

Just as she exited, a noisy blast echoed through the town—one, two, three times—and Trish stumbled. Dave grabbed her arm and steadied her.

“That darn fire horn.” He glanced down the street. “Better watch it. Any moment, we’ll have volunteers speeding toward the firehouse.” He pointed to the brick building across the street and pulled her away from the sidewalk’s edge. “Here they come now.”

Trish stood there watching as one vehicle after another came down the road with lights flashing and pulled into the firehouse’s parking lot. Was that Moody’s truck? The front was filled with several men...men who’d been on her roof. How could they appear so quickly? The horn had just sounded.

“I’ve got to go,” she said, slipping away from Dave’s grasp. She headed down the street at a near run.

When she reached her house, she saw Craig taking down the ladder. “What happened?” How would anything get finished if they took off anytime the fire horn blew?

“Most of my crew are volunteers.” He placed the ladder on the ground and headed for his van. “Including me.” Trish followed him to the driver’s side. Was he about to take off, too? She grabbed the sleeve of the OSHA green shirt he had pulled over his sweater.

“When will you be back?”

Craig got into the cab, holding on to the door. He leaned over toward her. “When the fire’s out.” She stepped away as he slammed the door and backed out of the driveway, his headlights flashing.

“You okay?”

Trish turned to see Dave Henry standing there on the sidewalk. “Did you think your house was on fire?” he asked as he approached. “You took off looking very upset.”

“I saw Moody’s truck with all the men who had been on my roof. They didn’t finish.”

“They’ll be back.” He glanced at the house and rubbed his arms. “I didn’t take a jacket. Didn’t realize how cold it had gotten.”

Small towns. She had forgotten how familiar people were with each other, how concerned they were for each other’s welfare. She needed to remember that. “Would you care to come in, Mr. Henry? I can offer you some coffee.”

“That sounds wonderful, and please call me Dave. Whenever anyone calls me Mr. Henry, I’m expecting to see my uncle behind me.” He followed her into the house, pausing several times to look around the vestibule before they reached the kitchen.

“Sorry, the heat isn’t up to par. I plan to have Craig look into it when he gets back.” She handed him a cup of coffee from the electric percolator she had left on. She pushed over the cream and sugar. “This should help to warm you.”

Dave stopped rubbing his hands together and reached for the mug without adding any condiments. He held it several moments before taking a sip. “Oh, this hits the spot. So, are you planning to live here? It’s a beautiful house.”

“No. My fiancé and I want to sell it. In the meantime, Craig is fixing whatever needs repairs.”

“Craig Cadman, the handyman who drove off to the fire?” Dave waved a hand in the direction Craig had taken. “I know him. Does fantastic work, and his mother has refinished several antique dressers for us. You’re not the girl he’s been dating, are you? I’d heard he was dating, but I didn’t hear that he’d gotten engaged.”

Trish couldn’t help but chuckle. “No. We’re old friends, but he’s dating someone else.” She held the mug to her lips and looked over the rim at Dave. His blond hair was a little mussed, probably windblown from following her. Otherwise he was as neat as his uncle, although not as intimidating.

“Would you care to look at the antiques while you’re here?” She put her mug down. It would be wonderful to get this chore taken care of so she’d know what other items could be donated to the church.

Dave nodded. “That would be great.” He walked to her counter. “I’ve been checking out these dishes.” After picking one up and looking at the back, he turned to her with an expectant smile. “Any chance you want to get rid of these?”

Trish joined him. “It’s a complete set, with several of the larger pieces in the china cabinet.” Her finger traced the delicate cream-and-gold edge with its tiny pink and yellow roses and some miniature blue flower that looked like a forget-me-not. It had always been her favorite. When she and Harrison had looked at china, though, they’d gone for a more modern geometric pattern. No sense in having two full sets of dishes. “Sure. I’m interested in selling it.”

“Okay if I run back and get a few things? I’ll need to take my own pictures, and frankly, this place isn’t much warmer than the outside. The only thing you’re missing is the arctic breeze.” He gave her a heartfelt smile while he continued to rub his hands.

“Why don’t I drive you?” Since all the work vehicles had gone, she could easily get to her car.

“That would be great.”

They headed out the front door just as Craig pulled in beside her car. When he got out of his van, Trish asked, “You put the fire out already?”

“Nope. I got there too late. The truck had already left.” He stared a moment before extending his hand. “Nice to see you again, Dave. Hope you can give Trish some great deals.”

“Take care of her heat, will you? I’ve got to get back to my place to warm up.”

Craig’s eyebrow went up, and he looked at Trish. “Heat?”

“I forgot to mention, I couldn’t get the furnace to work. The key’s under the mat, and we’ll be back in a little while.”

Once she had the car started, Dave got in on the passenger side. “You have heat in this?” he asked, blowing into his hands as he rubbed them together.

“Yes. You’ll be toasty by the time we reach your shop.”

* * *

CRAIG RETRIEVED THE old-fashioned three-inch key and headed for the basement to check the furnace, an oil burner probably installed a good fifty years ago. No wonder it wasn’t providing any heat. No fuel. When was the last time they had a shipment? He went upstairs, sat on one of the kitchen chairs and dialed the local oil company most people used in the area.

“Hey, Marty,” Craig said. They had been classmates, and Craig graduated a year before Marty did. “When was the last time you delivered to Mrs. Lowery?”

“You mean before she died?”

Craig took a deep breath. “Yes, before she died.”

“Sometime last winter, I guess.”

“Okay, she needs another fill-up.”

“Why, is she alive again?” He cackled, a sure sign he wasn’t taking Craig seriously.

“Since when did you turn into the town’s comedian? Her granddaughter is staying here, and there’s no more fuel. She’s freezing. When can you make a delivery?”

“Who’s paying for it? I already closed Mrs. Lowery’s account.”

“You’ll get your money from the granddaughter.”

“Okay, I’ll make it my last delivery today. Say, isn’t she the Lowery gal you were sweet on?”

“The pipes are freezing, Marty.”

“She’s back in town and you’ve got another girlfriend?”

“Take care of it, Marty.”

“Cyndi Parker, isn’t it? I remember her doing all those splits and backflips as the head cheerleader.”

“Just deliver the oil.” Craig disconnected the call. Living all your life in a small town had definite disadvantages. Who else had been tracking his love life?

About to return the key to its not-so-secret hiding place, Craig stopped. Perfect time to check out that secretary and find that note. He went to the living room and lowered the large desktop just as a car pulled into the drive. Great. Trish was back.

Craig returned the large panel and headed for the front door. He opened it as Trish walked up the stairs with Dave Henry following her. This might be a good chance to get the price for the secretary.

“Found out why there’s no heat. You ran out of fuel. I ordered a fill-up from Marty Cassidy’s Homefuel. It should arrive later today.”

Trish paused by the open door, rolling her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I never even thought about that. Thank you.” She walked past him, motioning Dave to follow. “I’m making lunch—warm soup so Dave and I can defrost. Have the men come back from the fire?” When Craig shook his head, she added, “Would you like some soup or are you going back on the roof?”

His crew would probably stop for food after returning from the fire, and he didn’t want to miss out on lunch. “Warm soup sounds fine.” Once in the kitchen, Craig leaned against the counter, his arms folded across his chest, while Trish pulled out packages from the refrigerator. All the ingredients looked like his favorites, and he wondered if she had bought them for him. “You making grilled cheese?”

She grinned. “Of course. Can’t have tomato soup without grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“With ham?” He moved closer and opened one of the wrapped packages from Drexel’s Deli. “You remembered?” That had always been their preferred treat. “The grill still in the same old place?” When she nodded, he headed for the pantry.

Sure enough, the grill was right where he remembered. A little dusty. Probably hadn’t been used in years. He placed it on the counter and opened a drawer filled with dish towels. After a wipe-down, he plugged it in.

“You’re sure familiar with everything,” Dave said, coming over to stand by the counter. His gray winter parka was zipped to his neck even though the room had to be close to sixty degrees, despite no additional heat.

When the doorbell rang, Trish glanced at Craig. “You think that could be the oil delivery?”

“Doubt it. Marty said he’d do it on his last run. Why don’t you answer the door, and I’ll get started on the soup.” He headed back to the pantry, where he’d seen several cans. After checking the dates, he realized all the cans were new. He smiled and started to whistle, right up until he heard her gasp of delight.