“So you need me to help you find the paintings?” Perhaps it wouldn’t be much more difficult than finding lost keys, she thought. One simply needed to trace the whereabouts of the paintings’ owners.
“Yes,” Ellen answered. “If you can help me locate all of them, I believe we can solve the puzzle and find the will.”
“And if we succeed, do I get an A in your class?” Kate asked with a chuckle.
Ellen laughed, and her shoulders sagged with relief. “Then you’ll help me?”
“If you’ll let me stay in the class,” Kate said. “I was afraid you were going to tell me I didn’t belong here with all these young students.”
“Oh, there’s no question about your place in this class.” Ellen gave Kate a reassuring smile. “Besides, it’s nice to have someone my own age around.”
Kate breathed a sigh of relief. “So, where do we start our search?”
“With my cousin Carol. Well, actually, with her husband, Oliver. They have at least one of the paintings that I’m aware of.”
“If you’ll call him and set up an appointment, we can pay him a visit and get started.” Kate mentally reviewed her schedule, trying to recall her various commitments over the next few days.
“Um...well...” Ellen hesitated. “There might be one small problem with that.”
“What problem?” She studied Ellen’s worried expression with misgiving.
Ellen crossed her arms. “Oliver would never agree to a meeting with me. He thinks I’m a bad influence on Carol.”
“So you want me to go see him on your behalf?” Kate was immediately wary.
“He’d never turn away a preacher’s wife. He’s too conscious of his standing in the community.”
Kate paused. She didn’t like to get involved in family conflicts, but she also wanted to help Ellen.
“Let me think about it,” she said. “I do want to help, but just because I’ve had some luck in the past doesn’t mean I can locate the paintings. You might get your hopes up for nothing.”
“If you’d just try to talk to him, I’d really appreciate it.”
“I’ll give it some thought.”
“Why don’t you come to my apartment for tea tomorrow?” Ellen asked. “I can show you my painting, maybe persuade you to help me.”
Kate smiled with reluctant agreement. “All right. That would be fine.”
Kate waited while Ellen gathered up her things, and the two women left the classroom together. They parted ways outside the building, and Kate walked through the beautiful campus toward the parking lot where she’d left her car.
Why was it that everywhere she went, mysteries always seemed to find her? Paul often preached about finding your God-given gifts and using them. At first, Kate hadn’t thought of her amateur detective work as a gift, but from other people’s perspectives, perhaps it was. If so, then she had a responsibility to use it to help others.
How ironic that her professor had turned out to be Paul’s former girlfriend. Kate wasn’t worried about Ellen’s reappearance in their lives, but if she didn’t feel the tiniest bit odd about Ellen’s previous relationship with Paul, well, then she’d hardly have been female, would she?
Kate chuckled to herself as she climbed in the car and turned on the radio to find some music for the ride home.
Chapter Two
That night after dinner, Kate and Paul retired to the living room. Paul started a cozy blaze in the fireplace, then settled on the sofa next to Kate and picked up that day’s issue of the Copper Mill Chronicle.
“How did your first class go this morning?” he asked.
Kate was thankful for the support Paul had shown when she’d told him of her desire to go back to school. He’d shown her that same support and encouragement in her stained-glass work.
“Well, it was...um...interesting. Definitely interesting.”
“How so?” Paul asked, looking up from his newspaper.
“Well, my professor is someone you know.” Kate had to hide her smile.
“Really? Who?”
“Ellen Harrington. Or Professor Ellen Carruthers, as she’s now known.” She waited to see Paul’s reaction.
He blinked. “Ellen? Really?”
Kate studied his face carefully. Of course, she was secure in her marriage to Paul. They’d been a happy couple for almost thirty years, now. Still, it was disconcerting to any woman when one of her husband’s former girlfriends turned up. Especially when that girlfriend was of the “first love” variety.
“Yes, really. And I was surprised, to say the least.”
A smile spread across Paul’s face. “Wow! It would be great to see her again. I’ve always been sorry we lost touch.”
For a moment, he appeared lost in thought, and Kate felt the teensiest bit of anxiety.
“How’s she doing?” he asked. “I wonder what brought her back to Tennessee.”
“Actually, she lost her husband last spring.” Kate felt another wave of sympathy for Ellen. She couldn’t imagine going on with her life without Paul, and from what she could tell, Ellen had felt the same way about her late husband.
Paul’s expression sobered. “That’s too bad. We should make her feel welcome, invite her to dinner, maybe.”
“She also had a request for me.”
“What kind?” Then he sighed. “Don’t tell me. Another mystery for the minister’s wife to solve?”
Kate smiled. Paul had shown great forbearance with all of her sleuthing since they’d moved to Copper Mill. A handy quality in a husband that she had long ago learned to appreciate.
“So what’s the mystery?” Paul asked.
Kate explained Ellen’s story, and what she had asked Kate to do. “It sounds like she really needs some help, and maybe even a friend.”
Paul reached over and kissed her on the cheek. “That’s my Katie. Not many women would volunteer to help out their husband’s old flame.” His teasing grin and the loving light in his eyes warmed her heart. Like any married couple, she and Paul had experienced their ups and downs. But at the end of the day, they were always delighted to come home to each other.
“Well, I happen to be quite extraordinary, in case it escaped your notice,” Kate replied saucily.
“Katie, nothing about you has ever escaped my notice,” he said, reaching for her. She giggled when Paul pulled her closer and proceeded to demonstrate just how extraordinary he found her.
Sometimes mysteries, and even former girlfriends, needed to take a backseat to old-fashioned love and affection.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Paul entered the Country Diner with more trepidation than he’d felt since he and Kate made the move to Copper Mill. True, they had adjusted to small-town life pretty well, just as the folks of Copper Mill had adjusted to a “citified” preacher and his cosmopolitan wife. But when Lawton Briddle, the mayor of Copper Mill, had called Paul the previous week and invited him to join the Copper Mill Chamber of Commerce, Paul had immediately felt his pulse shift into overdrive.
Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a single reason for the mayor to extend such an invitation. The chamber was for businessmen, not clergymen. What’s more, it had always been limited to an exclusive handful of old-timers, not transplants like himself. Still, Paul had been in Copper Mill long enough not only to gain some insight into the little community but also to form some opinions about its future. What better place to advocate for much-needed changes than within the inner circle of the town’s movers and shakers?
“Rev. Hanlon. We’re glad you could make it.” As mayor, Lawton presided over the official Copper Mill Chamber of Commerce from his seat at the back corner booth. Three other men sat in a semicircle around him: Fred Cowan, the owner of the pharmacy across from Willy’s Bait and Tackle; Clifton Beasley, a regular among the retired men who drank coffee on the porch of the local mercantile; and John Sharpe, the town’s only insurance agent. Paul greeted each one in turn and shook hands.
“Sit down, sit down,” Lawton said. “
We’ll get started just as soon as LuAnne brings us our pie. Ah, here she comes.”
LuAnne Matthews was as much a fixture of the Country Diner as the strong coffee and biscuits and gravy. The red-haired waitress handed the plates around the table, then fixed her lively green eyes on Paul.
“Afternoon, Preacher,” she said with a smile and a wink. “What’ll it be today? A little something to clog your arteries?”
One aspect of small-town life that Paul thoroughly enjoyed was that cholesterol took a backseat to good country cooking.
“Pecan pie, warmed, with vanilla ice cream and black coffee, please,” he said with a grin. He kept to a fairly healthy diet, under Kate’s watchful eye, but how could anyone be expected to drink a cup of coffee at the diner and not enjoy the mouthwatering taste of the baked goods every now and then?
The men talked about the warm fall weather and the prospects of the Copper Mill High School football team until LuAnne returned with Paul’s order, then the mayor officially began the meeting by tapping on the table with a spoon.
“Gentlemen, our first order of business is to welcome Rev. Hanlon, which I think we’ve already done.” The other men nodded in agreement. “So, our next item on the agenda is to decide whose wife is going to be in charge of the Christmas Craft Extravaganza.”
Paul took a sip of his coffee as the other men issued a collective groan.
“My wife was in charge last year,” Clifton said. “So I’m off the hook.” He sighed. “That cost me a trip to Nashville. Near about killed my back toting around all those shopping bags.”
The other men made sympathetic noises, but no one volunteered to be the one to approach their spouse. Paul swallowed. If he was going to gain any credibility with the group, he’d have to step up.
“I suppose I could talk to Kate about it,” he began.
The other men perked up immediately.
“Good,” said Lawton. “Then that’s taken care of.”
Paul held up a hand. While he was willing to step up, he wasn’t so sure how Kate might feel about heading up such an event. “I said I’d ask Kate, but I can’t promise anything. She has her hands pretty full these days.”
“But she doesn’t work,” Clifton said. “What else does she have to do with her time?”
Paul held his tongue. The question was ironic coming from Clifton, who spent most days in a rocking chair on the porch of Sam Gorman’s Mercantile, drinking coffee and spinning yarns with the other retired men of Copper Mill.
Lawton cleared his throat. “The next item on the list is trickier.”
“Don’t tell me Emma’s complaining about us again,” Clifton said, referring to the proprietor of Emma’s Ice Cream Shop, the business adjacent to the Mercantile. “We’re not hurting her business just by hangin’ around next door.”
“No, no.” Lawton raised a hand. “That Luke Danvers fellow from the state community development office wants to meet with us again.”
Paul leaned forward. Now this was more what he’d been expecting when he’d accepted the mayor’s invitation to join the chamber. Perhaps someone from the development office could help with the pressing need for more jobs in the area. Communities often failed to take advantage of such resources.
Clifton snorted. “He’s like a dog with a bone, that man. What’s he lathered up about now?”
The mayor frowned. “Now, Clifton, we don’t want to give Rev. Hanlon here the wrong impression. With the way you’re talking, he’s going to think we’re against progress in Copper Mill.”
“We’re against ruining this community,” Clifton protested, swirling the remains of the coffee in his cup. “We don’t want a SuperMart like the one in Pine Ridge. Our stores struggle enough just to stay open as it is.”
Fred Cowan nodded in agreement. “If one of those chain pharmacies comes here, I’ll be out of business within a year.”
John Sharpe looked thoughtful. “We’re going to have to broaden our tax base somehow. This town hasn’t been the same since the copper mines shut down back in the seventies.”
Paul looked from one man to the other, keenly aware of the mixed feelings around the table. These men were seeing the only way of life they’d loved and known slowly disappearing. As John had observed, the economic decline in Copper Mill had been going on for decades ever since the mining industry had gone bust. Copper Mill wasn’t in any immediate danger of collapse, but groups like the chamber of commerce needed to look to the future now more than ever.
“How long has it been since you met with this fellow?” Paul asked.
Clifton shrugged. “Five, maybe six years. The only thing he wanted to do was talk about bringing in outsiders.”
The mayor nodded. “We’re agreed that what we want to do is develop local businesses, not get taken over by some big corporation.”
The other men murmured their assent. Paul hesitated. As the newest member of the chamber, he’d planned to simply sit and listen during his first meeting. But five or six years? Surely it was well past time to talk with the community development man again.
“Would it hurt just to hear this Danvers fellow out?” Paul asked. “He might have some fresh ideas.”
John shook his head. “Waste of time. We’re better off just keeping on doing what we’re doing. Slow and steady wins the race. Right, Pastor?”
What could he say? Paul sipped his coffee to stall for time. He’d grown up only an hour from Copper Mill, so he knew how insular a small town could be, how outsiders were viewed with caution at best and suspicion at worst. His Tennessee roots were probably the only reason Lawton had invited him to join the group.
Paul paused. “I wonder, though, if you could develop any kind of new business, what kind of growth would you like to see in Copper Mill?”
The other men frowned, perplexed.
Finally, Fred replied. “I’d like to see small stores. Mom-and-pop businesses. That’s what will help us preserve our town. People need a stake, not just a paycheck.”
“Then why not talk to the man from the state office about that?” Paul urged, treading carefully.
“I don’t see any point in that,” Lawton said, delivering the proclamation with his usual air of authority. “We’re just going to have to figure this out ourselves.”
Paul sighed and took another sip of his coffee. He knew it would be an uphill battle to convince these old-timers to listen to any new ideas, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. No, he was just getting started in fact. He stared at the empty plate sitting in front of him and thought perhaps he ought to order a second piece of pie to give him strength for the climb.
PAUL LEFT THE chamber of commerce meeting an hour later, full of pie and coffee but not as full of optimism about Copper Mill’s future. He walked across the Town Square to the Mid-Cumberland Bank and Trust to make a deposit, but before he reached the door, he spotted Mike Rowland, a member of Faith Briar Church, coming down the sidewalk.
“Afternoon, preacher.” Mike extended his hand, and Paul shook it.
“Good to see you, Mike. It’s been a while.” Paul looked at the young man who had left Copper Mill six months earlier in search of work. Mike seemed to have aged several years in the time he’d been gone. “We’ve missed you. What brings you back home?”
Mike shrugged, and his gaze dropped. “Layoffs at the plant in Nashville. You know how it goes. Last hired, first fired. So I’m back here in Copper Mill until I find something else.”
Paul put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. Mike was in his early twenties, and though he’d done well in high school, his family didn’t have the money to send him to college. With a limited number of decent-paying jobs in Copper Mill, Mike had gone off to the big city to try to make his way in the world.
“I’m sorry to hear that. You living at your folks’ place?”
“Yeah, but only until I can find work. It’s pretty crowded at home.” Mike was the oldest of six children, the youngest still in junior high school. “I’ve got a frie
nd in Chattanooga who says they’re hiring in construction, so I’m going to try my luck down there.”
Paul nodded but kept his expression neutral. The young man’s words pained him. Mike was just one example of the late-teen and twenty-something Copper Mill natives who hadn’t been able to carve out a future in their own hometown.
“Can the church do anything to help?” Paul asked, knowing even as he spoke the words that Mike would turn down his offer. Folks in Copper Mill were as proud as they were generous, which meant they always wanted to help out but often found it hard to accept it themselves.
“Well, I guess you could ask folks to pray for me.” Mike brushed his longish brown hair out of his eyes. “I know the Lord must have a plan for me, but I wish it would lead me back here for good. It’s hard to leave home.”
“I know your folks have missed you,” Paul added. “A lot of us have.”
Young men like Mike were a real asset to a small community. Not only were they the ones who coached Little League teams and taught Sunday school, but they were also the town’s future leaders.
A shadow passed over Mike’s face. “I know, Pastor. I wish I didn’t have to leave again, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“I understand, Mike.”
The two said good-bye, and Paul continued on his way to the bank, feeling even more burdened than he had when he left the diner. His conversation with Mike made his first encounter with the chamber of commerce doubly frustrating. By wearing blinders when it came to community growth, Lawton and his cronies could fill up their time with busywork like the Christmas Craft Extravaganza and the Men’s Golf Scramble without ever addressing the deeper needs of the town.
Paul slipped inside the bank, still lost in thought.
“Hello, Rev. Hanlon.” Melvin McKinney appeared at Paul’s side. The bank manager sported his ever-present bow tie and horn-rimmed glasses. “How can we help you today?”
Paul looked around the bank. These days, the only employees were Melvin; Matt Lawson, who was an investment adviser; and Evelyn and Georgia Cline, elderly twin sisters who had been tellers at the bank for as long as anyone could remember.
Where There’s a Will Page 2