“That I am, Kaleb.” Shelly brightened the listeners’ days with her forecast and turned the show over to Kaleb.
“Thank you, Shelly,” he acknowledged. “We have some breaking news coming in from our staff covering the Maple Bluff fire. Let’s go back to Catherine Bach. Catherine?”
“That’s right, Kaleb. This just in; firefighters discovered the charred remains of two people in the ashes of the fire here at Maple Bluff. The coroner will arrive on the scene at any time. We will, of course, keep you informed as we receive updates on this latest development. Catherine Bach reporting for WWYT TV.”
“Catherine, is it possible the bodies are those of the two stables hand who lived in the loft apartment?” Kaleb questioned.
“That is a possibility, but at this time, we can only speculate. We are attempting to contact the Felton Company for comment.”
“Thank you, Catherine.”
Shane Travers switched off the TV. The reporters can speculate all they want. Shane’s bet was that the remains would indeed be the stable hands, a convenient fire can hide of lot of sins when it comes to organized crime. Casey Scott’s brief recital last night of the events leading up to her attack and the murder of the other agent was proof enough the stable hands were not exactly on the up and up. He would learn more this morning at the debriefing.
Driving to work, Shane recalled the “stake out” as Leni called their wait for Charlie to return home. He liked having her close to him, just like their dance at senior prom. How had he known her this long and never realized what an attractive woman his Collins was? The feel of her warm body leaning close to his as they stood under the old harbor; her smell, the gentle swell of her breasts as she breathed; and looking down into those eyes, stirred up the familiar feeling of desire in Shane, and an unfamiliar feeling. Was what Shane felt compassion for a grieving friend and nothing more? Shane put aside that thought quickly. I love Leni. I don’t know when it happened, but I have fallen in love with the woman who considers me no more than a good friend.
Shane had a sudden need to hear Leni’s voice. Parking his truck in HPD’s lot, he took a chance she was not still in bed and called her. She answered on the second ring.
“Good morning, Collins,” Shane saluted.
“Hey, Travers,” Lenore replied. “What’s up?”
“I just called to hear your sweet, warm voice.” Shane tried to disguise the truth of his remark with a laugh.
“Well, that would be a first,” Lenore laughed in return. “Are you already at work preparing for the debriefing?
“I am at work, but the only thing I am preparing is a fresh pot of coffee,” he joked. “Collins, how about meeting me for lunch today at Bernie’s?”
“Now I know something is up, Shane Travers, but I can’t refuse a meal at Bernie’s. What time?”
“Noonish. The donuts I am about to have for breakfast will not last long,” he told her.
“Noonish it is, Travers,” Lenore confirmed. “Be careful with yourself.”
“Always, Collins, always.” Shane ended the call with a smile. Collins always ended their calls with those words. BCWY was the acronym she used while texting.
Lenore loved Bernie’s. The old soda fountain turned café was a popular spot in old downtown Hylton. She loved every aspect of the renovated old city center, but Bernie’s Beans, Bags, and Buns was her favorite. It is where she and Dad went for lunch on their father-daughter days. She would enjoy after ballgame milkshakes and gossip there with her friends in high school and college. Friday night dates during high school usually included a trip to the hangout.
Shane’s invitation warmed Lenore’s heart, for him to take time out of what she knew was a busy day to have lunch with her was so unexpected. Of course, he was grieving for her father also. Lenore knew the lunch was a gesture of comfort from her friend, nothing more. The last few days she found herself wanting more from him, what she was not sure. Last night, the wait together under the arbor aroused more than friendly feelings for Shane Travers. Leaning close to him to keep warm, she was very aware of his masculinity. The feel of his arm around her and the warmth of his breath on her neck as he leaned close to whisper in her ear, set her heart to beating faster. She remembered leaning in closer to him, but Shane did not seem to notice. Face it, Lenore Collins. Travers sees you as a friend, that’s all. She sighed wistfully.
“Something wrong, Lenore dear?” She had not noticed Aunt Maddy come into the room.
“No, Aunt Maddy, nothing other than Dad’s passing.” Lenore replied. “I feel like a teenager again for asking, but may I borrow your car today, Aunt Maddy? Shane wants me to meet him for lunch at Bernie’s around noon.”
“Of course, you can my dear,” Maddy declared. “What’s the occasion?”
“Just lunch with an old friend, I guess. Shane and I have not really had time to talk the last few days.”
“Lenore are you dating anyone in New York?” her aunt asked unexpectedly.
“Wow. That question came out of nowhere, Aunt Maddy? Why?”
“I love you and worry about you. You are too young to sit on the side lines of love, Lenore.”
Lenore smiled at the remark. She had to admit that sitting on the side lines of love sounded better than, “being on the shelf,” as the Victorians would say. “I do date at times, Aunt Maddy, but nothing serious. Jared and I are friends who enjoy the same interest, nothing more. He knows that friendship is all I want in the relationship. Once bitten, twice shy, I guess.”
“Well, at least you have some social life.” Aunt Maddy dropped the subject. “Are we still planning to clean out cabinets today? I know neither of us want to go through your father’s personal belongings, but the pantries and refrigerator need emptying since the house will be empty.”
James Collin’s ashes would not be available until next week, so Aunt Maddy and Lenore decided on a simple memorial service this Thursday evening. Mr. Bill, an amateur woodworker, was making a wooden container to hold the urns holding both her parents’ ashes. They will have a private burial in the family plot in the Peaceful River Memorial Gardens on a later date. Maddy and Carl will return to Lexington on Friday via Louisville International Airport, after seeing Lenore off to New York.
“I guess that is the least sentimental and most pressing chore to be completed this week, so let’s get to it,” Lenore agreed with more bravado than she felt.
James Collins had been akin to the frugal gourmet. That man could take a few basic ingredients and spices and cook a gourmet meal. Since he preferred to use fresh ingredients for most meals, the cupboards had not taken long to clean out. James rotated canned goods, never letting canned food expire before using it. There would not be much to donate to the food pantry, but what there was would be quality canned foods. Maddy set aside food enough to prefer meals for them the rest of the week.
By midmorning, the kitchen task completed, Maddy suggested Lenore change and leave early for lunch with Shane.
“It will do you good to get out, Lenore,” Maddy insisted. “Take time to visit the little boutiques downtown, or that new bookstore.”
Lenore decided to follow her aunt’s suggestion. She took a quick shower, changed into jeans, a white blouse, slipped into the smart ankle boots she bought in Lexington Sunday, and declared herself ready.
Lenore chose a parking space in the lot behind Bernie’s. The spot just happened to be next to a space reserved for emergency personnel. She sent a quick text to Shane informing him where she parked and of her planned visit to The Reader’s Nook. She stopped by a few store fronts on her way, window shopping. The theme of the window display in The Artists’ Loft today was historic Hylton and consisted of old photos, sketches, and painting of the old town. One item caught Lenore’s eye; a charcoal sketch of Twin Maples and this one is for sale. She could not forget the look of sadness in Charlie’s eyes last night when he talked about the fire consuming his old home. Charlie will love this.
Lenore stood staring at the d
rawing for a moment more. Decision made, she pushed open the door of the shop. She would buy the charcoal for Charlie B.
The man behind the counter glanced up when the bell tinkled announcing a customer. “Lenore Collins,” Keith Stuart exclaimed, stepping from behind the counter to give her a friendly hug. “I am glad to see you, I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances though. I am sorry to about your father. He was a good man.”
“Thank you, Keith. I was sorry to hear about your aunt. I didn’t know her well, but Dad really liked Mrs. Stuart.”
Condolences exchanged and status updates of both parties completed, Lenore asked about the charcoal drawing of Twin Maples. Who is the artist? When was it done? And, because she was one who needed to pinch pennies, how much was the artist selling it for?
“The artist is a friend of mine, Julie Evans. She is a forensic artist who loves to sketch in her spare time. She does landscapes and anything less gruesome than a suspect and the face of a crime victim.” Keith explained. “Julie worked part time for HPD until she became a victim of the new mayor’s downsizing the police department. I am sure Shane Travers has talked about that project.”
“Yes. I fail to understand the method behind his madness, but he was who the majority of voters wanted.”
“Well, another election can’t happen too soon for me.” Keith grumbled. “Back to business, Julie did the sketch early this spring. I thought with the old house being ashes now, the piece would attract more interest.” He told her the price.
“I want the sketch, Keith, and the frame also. It’s a gift for a friend.” Lenore handed him her credit card.
“You want me to gift wrap it?”
“That will be lovely, thank you.” Lenore browsed the store while Keith took care of her purchase. She stopped in front of a painting vaguely familiar. A portrait of a beautiful woman in an elegant green gown. The Lady in Green.
“Keith is this the portrait the thieves were so interested in when your aunt was murdered?” she asked.
“Only an incredibly good reproduction. My cousin Paige owns the original now. It is currently on loan to the Hylton Museum if you want to see it. Several of the works stolen are on loan to the museum.”
“The artist was kin to Tsar Nicholas, wasn’t she? I remembered reading news reports about the robbery and the awful murders.”
“Yes, his younger sister, the Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna of Russia, or Olga Kulikovsky.” Keith enlightened her. “The woman in the portrait was my Uncle Richard’s first wife Tatiana. Beautiful, wasn’t she?”
“She was, indeed, Keith.”
“Well, I have you ready to go, Lenore.” Keith presented her the prettily wrapped package. “When will the service for you father be held? I would like to attend. He was my anthropology instructor in college, you know. I was probably the worse student he had, but surprising, I did pass the class. Of course, I always suspected he passed me because you and I were dating at the time,” he teased.
“Dad wouldn’t do that, and you know it Keith.” She and Keith had dated briefly while in college, Lenore a freshman and Keith a senior. They parted ways when Keith graduated, no regrets on either side.
“Dad wanted cremation like my mother. We will have a memorial service for him Thursday evening in the gardens at Hylton University; it starts at seven pm. The burial itself will be a later date in a private ceremony,” she gave him the details.
“I would like to bring my friend Julie, if you don’t mind. The one who did the sketch your purchased.”
“I would love to meet her, Keith.” She bade Keith good-bye and went next door to the bookstore, The Readers’ Nook.
The Reader’s Nook featured only used books, or as the store’s motto proclaimed, books once loved. Unlike other buildings in the district with apartments occupying the upper levels, the shop used both lower and upper levels for the store. The lower level featured floor to ceiling bookshelves, and to Lenore’s delight, rolling library ladders. She saw a few artfully stacked books scattered about, but no sign of dusty tomes stuck in every corner and crevice. The owner’s mother was a retired librarian and she had trained her daughter well. The Dewey Decimal system and neatness ruled in this store.
Lenore browsed the store, buying an older copy of a book she read as a young girl, The Moonstone by Wilke Collins, before checking out the loft. I must be in heaven, she thought. The loft was a reading room with four old leather chairs surrounding a ginormous coffee table. The table base was part of a massive tree topped with a thick sheet of plate glass, hiding not an inch of the base. Along the low wall overlooking the store was a cushioned window seat, complete with throw cushions. One could sit and read for hours up here. When I grow up, I will have a room like this in my home, she promised herself.
Her must haves list for her first place was getting longer. First there was an apartment with a view of the river, second a dog, and now a reading room. It might be wise to stop adding to the wish list until she settled in her new position, where ever that would be. Lenore’s current position was secure until the end of May, and she received an offer to assume a position as assistant professor at Columbia starting in the next spring semester. But did she want that position? And, how would she make a living in the meantime? She was yet to hear from her application to Hylton University or the three other Kentucky colleges she sent application to.
A chirp alert Lenore she had a text message. Shane.
WRU?
In the bookstore. OMW. Unsweet tea, please.
Done. Do you need help carrying the books? I can pull my truck around.
LOL.
A few minutes later, she was in a booth at Bernie’s sitting across from Shane and sipping her tea. Lenore found herself chatting nervously for some unfathomable reason, telling him about the charcoal sketch she had bought for Charlie B and her trip to the bookstore. Shane listened without interrupting, his head propped up in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I had to remind myself to back off making plans for my first real place until I knew where I would be living. I mean really, an apartment with a view of the river may not be a choice depending on where I have to settle initially.” She stopped abruptly. “Sorry, Travers. I did not mean to ramble on like a giddy teenager.”
“It’s okay, Collins. I rather enjoyed listening to you. I really did hope we could avoid talking about murder and mayhem.”
“Well, I am curious, I have to admit. But, honestly Travers, I just as soon not think about the last few days.” Lenore confessed.
“Good. So, tell me what’s life like lately for Leni Collins during her spare time in the big city? Hanging out with anyone special?” Shane asked trying to sound offhand and casual.
“What is this? Aunt Maddy asked me the same question this morning.” Lenore laughed. “She told me I was too young to sit on the side lines of love, just short of telling me I was almost on the shelf.”
“Almost on the shelf?” Shane puzzled. “What does that mean?”
“Well, back in the day, like in the 1800’s, a woman who did not marry by a certain age was considered on the shelf. Off the marriage market, essentially.”
“Good grief, Leni, you are only thirty-two and this is 2017, after all.” He chortled. “You didn’t answer my first question.”
She scrutinized his face. “Why?”
“Because I am nosy,” he replied.
“I really do not have a lot a time for a social life, to be honest. There is one man I date occasionally, Jared Taylor. We go dinner and dancing occasionally. We enjoy each other’s company,” she said, “for the most part.”
“But?” Shane probed.
“Jared wants more than I can give him, so I don’t think I will be seeing much of him when I return.” Lenore paused waiting for his next question, but Shane sat watching her, not saying a word. His strategy worked, and she rushed on. “After Chase, I promised myself never again will I give my body to a man unless I know I have his heart. I can’t separate myse
lf like that any longer, its hurts too bad, Shane. Call me prudish if you want, but that is it.”
“I would never call you a prude, Leni.” He reached across the table for her hands. “You are too warm and loving to be a prude. Stick to your guns, my friend, just don’t overlook what may be right under your nose.”
Before Lenore had time to ponder his last remark, Bethany Allan stood beside their table.
“Well, if this is not cozy? Two old friends holding hands across the table.” Bethany’s voice was as venomous as the look she casted Lenore. “I guess you are just comforting her, is that it, Shane?”
“Hello, Bethany?” Shane greeted, quickly removing his hands from Collins”
“May I join you?” Not waiting for a reply, she squeezed in the seat next to Shane. “Lenore, I am sorry about your father.”
“Thank you, Bethany.” Lenore really did not want to discuss her father’s death with Bethany Allan. She need not have worried. Bethany completely ignored her from that point.
“Shane, I missed you this weekend,” Bethany said, placing a possessive hand on his arm, snuggling close. “It was so sweet of you to change your plans at the last minute for Lenore, but I think you have done your duty. Now you can make it over tonight for dinner as usual. Robbie is so excited. Bethany smiled too sweetly at Lenore now. “I wish you could see how good Shane is with my Robbie. He already thinks of Shane as a father.”
Lenore noticed that Shane did not shake off her hand on the arm and his eyes kept drifting to the deep décolletage of her blouse which gaped open inviting his glance every time she leaned forward. Shane felt Lenore staring at him in disbelief and smile sheepishly. Men!
Lenore abruptly stood up. “Look you guys, I don’t want to be the third wheel here, so I will leave the two of you alone. Thanks for lunch, Travers.”
“Oh, Lenore that is so sweet,” Bethany smiled triumphantly. “Shane is lucky to have such an understanding friend.”
A Tale of Two Lenores Page 14