Where There’s a Will

by Beth Pattillo

  “My nephew didn’t charge much, Lawton,” John said. “Maybe I should at least get an estimate.”

  “Jennifer McCarthy over at the Chronicle might be willing to write the copy for us,” Fred said. “I can ask her next time she comes into the pharmacy.”

  “Jennifer’s always taking pictures too. Maybe she could help us with some photos for the site,” John suggested, clearly warming to the idea. “I’ll follow up on that...see what we can do.”

  Paul knew that Lawton wasn’t happy. The mayor’s face had turned a light shade of puce. But Lawton also wasn’t objecting too much. Paul wondered how much further he could push his luck.

  “Not to change the subject,” Paul said, “but can you fellows give me some advice about a good fishing hole? I’ve got a friend coming up from San Antonio soon, and I promised him we’d do some fishing while he was here.”

  Paul had decided to invite Bill Rohde from the tourism board in San Antonio for a visit. Maybe his friend could take a look around Copper Mill and offer some community-development advice.

  Paul couldn’t have asked any question better calculated to diffuse the tension at the table.

  “Your best bet’s Lone Jack Lake,” Fred advised him. “I’ve got a boat you can take out, if you want to borrow it.”

  “No, no,” John said, before Paul could respond. “Copper Mill Creek’s a better place, right where it meets Mountain Laurel Road. And you don’t need a boat. Just stand on the bank and flip ’em right out of the water.”

  “Better make sure you have the appropriate license,” Lawton said, obviously still displeased with Paul’s Web site suggestion. “Wouldn’t want your friend to get a tour of the deputy’s office while he’s here.”

  Paul laughed. “Point well taken, Mayor.”

  “What’s your friend’s name?” John asked.

  “Bill. Bill Rohde. Was a member of my church back in San Antonio.”

  “Wish I had time to fish,” Fred said wistfully. “But those prescriptions don’t fill themselves. I’m behind that counter six days a week, and my wife would shoot me if I went fishing on Sunday.”

  “What line of work is your friend in?” John asked.

  “He works for the tourism board in San Antonio.” Paul made sure to keep his expression neutral. He’d extended the invitation to Bill only a few days before, although he had a much larger agenda than a successful fishing expedition. That was something else he’d learned early in his ministry. If you want people to truly accept your ideas, you should bring in a second opinion. And he considered Jesus’ words in the book of Luke: “No prophet is accepted in his hometown.” Even Jesus seemed to understand the value of a consultant.

  “They’ve got that River Walk down in San Antonio, right?” John looked impressed. “My sister’s been there several times. All those shops and hotels and restaurants. Says she loves it.”

  Paul nodded. “San Antonio’s done an excellent job over the last forty years promoting tourism and keeping their local businesses intact.”

  Fred brightened. “Maybe your friend could talk to us about promoting Copper Mill to tourists. Give us some pointers.”

  “I’m sure he’d be glad to.” Paul couldn’t believe how easily they’d gone right down the road he wanted them to take.

  Lawton had been ominously silent throughout the conversation. Now he cleared his throat as if preparing to deliver a verdict.

  “I don’t see what anyone from a big city could tell us about our little town. But if he’s your friend, Pastor, he’s welcome to have coffee with us.”

  “Thank you, Mayor. I appreciate that.” Paul realized what a large concession Lawton had just made. He hadn’t agreed to anything, but he hadn’t discouraged it as Paul had expected. Paul knew the social code of Copper Mill well enough to understand that the mayor was giving permission while still saving face. “I’m sure Bill will find Copper Mill as wonderful as Kate and I have.”

  His compliment seemed to mollify the mayor. Paul had some other suggestions he wanted to slip into the conversation, but he also knew he’d pushed things as far as he dared for one day.

  “When do you all expect Clifton to be back from Chattanooga?” Paul asked. “I’d like to drop by and see him and his wife, let them know we’re thinking of them.”

  “I expect they’ll be back by midafternoon,” Fred said. “Appreciate you seeing about them, Preacher. Clifton’s pretty private, but this thing with his wife’s got him shook up.”

  The rest of the meeting was spent catching up on community news and spinning yarns. By the time Paul left the diner, he was feeling satisfied. He and Kate had moved to Copper Mill so that he could be more involved with people and less involved with the programming and administration that a large church required. And although working with people one-on-one might be more difficult, he found it much more rewarding.

  Yes, life in Copper Mill was good. He just wanted to help make it a little better. And Bill Rohde might just be the key to accomplishing that.

  Chapter Nine

  So, do you think you can help me, Livvy?” Kate stood beside the reference desk at the Copper Mill Public Library. Livvy Jenner was Kate’s closest friend and often played Watson to Kate’s Sherlock Holmes.

  Livvy tucked a wayward strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “You have the maiden names of Professor Carruthers’ cousins, so that’s a start. Let’s see what we can do.”

  The pair settled in behind a computer terminal. It was a few minutes before the library closed, so no one was around. Kate had warned Paul that dinner would probably be late that night. With any luck, though, it wouldn’t be delayed too long. The Internet certainly came in handy for tracking down information.

  Livvy typed the first name into the search engine and then hit the Enter key.

  “Over thirty thousand results,” she said, grimacing. “There must be tons of Anne Harringtons out there. Your professor doesn’t know where any of her cousins live?”

  “She’s been estranged from that side of the family for years.”

  Livvy paused. “Couldn’t she just ask her cousin Carol Coats? Doesn’t she live over in Pine Ridge?”

  Kate quickly filled Livvy in on the contentious history of the Harrington clan, the nature of Carol’s marriage, and what Ellen had told her about her reluctance to approach Oliver. “If word somehow got back around to Oliver Coats about the possibility of Ellen’s grandfather having a second will...well, let’s just say I don’t see him acting against his own self-interest.”

  “Okay then.” Livvy turned back to the computer. “Maybe we can narrow these down.”

  But her efforts proved fruitless. An hour later, they were no closer to finding any of Ellen’s long-lost relatives than they’d been when they started.

  “I don’t get it,” Livvy said. “I’m usually pretty good at this. It’s as if they’ve all disappeared into thin air.”

  “What about the reference room?” Kate asked. “Do you think there could be any information in there, in old county records perhaps?”

  “That’s the next logical step.”

  Livvy led the way to the designated room on the second floor. As with most small-town libraries, Livvy maintained a special section for those patrons who came to do genealogical research. Although the availability of the Internet had diminished the demand for the room’s treasures, it still had its fair share of visitors.

  “We can try some of these.” Livvy began to pull some volumes from the shelves.

  Kate examined the titles. Cemetery records. Birth records. “This could take a while, huh?”

  Livvy grinned. “That’s why they call it research. You search and then search again.”

  Between the two of them, though, they managed to work their way through the pile of books at a good clip. But as with the Internet search, their efforts didn’t yield much fruit.

  “Is your professor sure these people actually exist?” Livvy asked. She glanced up at the clock. It was almost six-thirty. “Danny a
nd the boys are going to be expecting me. Can we finish this up tomorrow?”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you so late.” Kate held up the volume she’d been perusing. “I never thought I’d find Death Records of Harrington County to be such a page-turner.”

  Livvy laughed. “It’s amazing what a little time in the library will do for your perspective,” she teased.

  One by one, she returned the books they’d been using to the shelves. “Of course, as with anything in life, motivation is everything.”

  Kate joined in Livvy’s laughter, and they left the research room.

  “If we don’t turn up anything here at the library, do you have any suggestions for where I should go next?” Kate asked. “If we can’t find any records of Ellen’s cousins, surely someone around here would remember them. Can’t we take advantage of oral history?”

  “Does she have an older relative still living?”

  “I don’t think so. Do you know of someone I might talk to? Someone who’s lived in the area a long time?”

  Livvy laughed. “Well, that would be almost everyone in Copper Mill, Kate.”

  “Okay, okay.” Kate held up her hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. I guess that was a little too obvious.”

  Livvy’s brow furrowed. “Though now that you mention it, what about Old Man Parsons? He probably knows more about the area and the people than anyone around.”

  Kate grimaced. Joshua Parsons wasn’t the most pleasant person in Copper Mill, but Livvy was right. He seemed to know everyone and everybody who had ever passed through Harrington County. He was in his nineties, which meant he’d seen and heard about a lot of the history of the place.

  “It’s worth a shot,” Livvy said. She led Kate toward the library’s main exit. “Take some cookies or a pie with you when you go visit him, and I bet he’ll talk up a storm.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “I’ll keep looking,” Livvy promised her. “But Old Man Parsons may be your best bet.”

  She and Livvy said their good nights, and Kate headed for her car, mentally going over her to-do list. If she wasn’t careful, her extracurricular sleuthing activities were going to overshadow her new academic pursuits, not to mention the rest of her already busy life. Even so, once she started to unravel a mystery, there was no way she could stop until she solved it. She’d have to remember that when she went to talk with Joshua Parsons.

  Kate took Livvy’s advice and arrived at Old Man Parsons’ house the following day bearing a freshly made peach pie and a thermos of coffee. Joshua met Kate at the front door with a look of suspicion, but the aroma of peaches seemed to sway him in favor of allowing her inside.

  “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” Kate said in her best preacher’s-wife voice. “I really appreciate it.”

  Joshua harrumphed, then led her into the small living room. But instead of inviting her to sit down, he walked through a doorway at the far end of the room. Kate wasn’t sure if she was supposed to follow him but decided she might as well.

  As it turned out, Old Man Parsons had made the ninety-three-year-old equivalent of a beeline for the kitchen and had begun pulling out plates, forks, and coffee cups.

  “Set those things on the counter there,” he instructed Kate in a thin, reedy voice. “Then you can dish it up.”

  Kate swallowed back the retort that sprang to her lips. “I hope you like peach pie,” she said with all the sweetness she could muster. She took the foil off the pie tin and reached for the knife that Joshua had laid on the counter. “Big piece or small piece?”

  “About there,” he almost snapped, using his forefinger to indicate about a third of the pie. Kate could only pray the man wasn’t diabetic, because that much pie might cause some kind of medical emergency.

  “There you go.” Kate hefted the giant slice onto the plate he’d provided and then cut a much smaller piece for herself. “Coffee?” she asked.

  The old man harrumphed once more, which Kate took for consent.

  She twisted open the thermos and poured out two steaming cups of coffee. “I didn’t bring any cream or sugar,” she said apologetically.

  “Drink it black.” Joshua scowled. “No need to doctor it up with that other fool stuff.”

  “No, I guess not,” Kate said, secretly wishing she’d remembered to slip a few packets of sweetener into her handbag. “Where shall we sit?”

  “Sit? Oh.” He nodded toward a card table and two folding chairs in the corner of the kitchen. “Over there, I reckon.”

  Kate took her cup and plate and moved to sit at the rickety table. She prayed the ancient chair wouldn’t collapse under her weight. Joshua settled in across from her. He took his first bite of pie, then paused for a long moment. Kate stifled a smile at the sight of the older man’s ecstasy. Yes, peach had been a good choice.

  “So? Why did you want to see me, Kate?” He chewed, then swallowed his bite of pie. “You’re buttering me up for some reason,” he said with all the shrewdness of someone who’d lived as many years as he had.

  Kate appreciated his bluntness...in this instance, at least. “I wanted to ask you if you remembered much about the Harrington family that used to run the ironworks on High Hoot Ridge.” She figured he might have actually known some of the key players in the family squabble.

  “The ironworks?” He looked up from his pie in surprise. “Haven’t heard anybody mention that place in a long time.” His eyes grew hazy as he seemed to search his memory. “A shame that company went under. Cost a lot of good people their jobs.”

  “It is a shame.” Kate nodded sympathetically. “I’m trying to locate some members of the family,” she said between bites of pie. “One of their cousins is looking for them.”

  Joshua’s fork paused in midair. “You’re helping that weasel Oliver Coats?” He looked skeptically at the pie, as if questioning Kate’s trustworthiness now that he thought she might be in league with Coats. “Rumor has it he’s going to sell out to a big paper company.”

  “I’m actually helping Ellen Harrington Carruthers. Oliver’s wife, Carol, is Ellen’s cousin.”

  “Why doesn’t she just ask him where her people are?” Then he stopped and frowned. “’Course, Oliver hasn’t ever helped anybody but himself much. Leastwise, not that I ever heard.”

  “I’m afraid Ellen and Oliver aren’t on very good terms, Mr. Parsons. She’s trying to locate her cousins Anne and Elizabeth, or ‘Betsy,’ Harrington, but she couldn’t remember either of their married names. I was hoping you might know.”

  Old Man Parsons had another bite of pie and took his time chewing and swallowing. Finally, he said, “I might be able to help.”

  “Do you know where I might find them?” Kate couldn’t believe her luck. Maybe things would get a little easier from here on out.

  “Don’t know anything about their married names. But if I think a minute, I might be able to remember where they moved to when they hightailed it out of the area.”

  Kate resisted the urge to cross her fingers while he searched his memory. Instead, she shot up a prayer for God to give Joshua clear recollection of the Harringtons.

  “That Anne girl...I believe she moved to Nashville with her husband. Met him at a dance over in Pine Ridge during the Vietnam War.”

  “Do you remember her husband’s name?”

  He thought for a moment. “No. Tall fellow, though. I think he got a job makin’ glass over at the Ford plant in west Nashville.”

  Well, that was something, at least. “What about Elizabeth Harrington? Do you recall anything about her?”

  “Red-headed gal, with a temper to match,” Joshua said with a chuckle. “Some fella got fresh with her down at the Town Square one time, and she slapped him so hard I thought his head might pop off.”

  “Do you remember where she went when she left Pine Ridge?”

  “Hmm. McMinnville, maybe, over Warren County way. I think her husband was a nurseryman.”

  That made se
nse to Kate. Warren County was known far and wide for its excellent nurseries. She and Paul had been meaning to drive over there one Saturday to buy two dogwood trees for their front yard.

  “Is there anything else you recall? Anything about anyone else in the Harrington family that might help me locate them?”

  Old Man Parsons shook his head, which Kate at first took to mean he didn’t have any more information. But then he spoke. “Sad thing when kinfolk can’t get along. Always over money.” He drained the last of the coffee from his cup. “What folks always forget is that money can be made or lost pretty easy, but family...well, once you lose ’em, they’re gone forever.”

  Despite his crotchety attitude, Joshua Parsons was a pretty wise man, Kate decided. “Can I pour you some more coffee?” she asked.

  “Nope! Thank you, Kate. Any more of that, and I’ll be pacin’ the floors at three o’clock in the mornin’.”

  She smiled as she gathered up the dishes and carried them to the sink. Then she rewrapped the pie and put the lid back on the thermos.

  “Is there anything I can do for you while I’m here, Mr. Parsons?” His home was neat but musty, and though he was pretty spry for a man of his age, she could tell that his mobility was limited.

  “Well, you could bring me one of those pies every once in a while,” he said with a chortle. “Those meals from the Faith Freezer Program are much appreciated, but I don’t get many treats these days.”

  “Then I’ll be happy to be your supplier,” Kate said with a laugh.

  “You know, now that I think about it, I remember somethin’ else about that Harrington clan.”

  Kate’s head popped up. “Yes?”

  “I was going through some things the other day and came across a few old copies of the Copper Mill Chronicle. Seems like there was somethin’ about one of the Harringtons in there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He chuckled. “Young lady, I’m over ninety years old. I don’t buy green bananas, because I’m not even sure I’ll be around to eat them.”