Where There’s a Will

by Beth Pattillo

  “We’re going to be late.” Paul was hardly ever curt, and his abrupt tone caught Kate off guard. She glanced at her watch.

  “We can make it.”

  He huffed but didn’t say a word in response. Kate followed him to the pickup, wondering if she really wanted to ask what had put him in such a bad mood. Her hesitation didn’t last for long, though. They were barely out of the driveway before she spoke.

  “Okay, honey, what’s going on? You’re like a bear with a sore paw.”

  “Two sore paws, more like it,” he growled.

  Paul was so rarely in a bad mood that Kate was willing to cut him plenty of slack.

  “Aren’t you and Bill having a good time? Where is he, by the way?”

  “He’s exploring Copper Mill on his own. And, yes, it’s been a good visit.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” Kate knew Paul well enough to wait patiently while he formed his answer.

  After a few moments, he said, “I resigned from the chamber of commerce on Monday.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. What did Lawton do this time?” Kate asked.

  Paul’s tight expression relaxed a little bit. “How did you know it was Lawton?”

  Kate smiled. “Female intuition.” Her response finally teased a smile out of Paul.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked. “To give up?”

  “As Sam reminded me, sometimes it’s best to know when to throw in the towel.”

  “But you thought...well, just remember Mike Rowland. You wanted to help young men like him stay in Copper Mill.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think the chamber of commerce is the way to do it. I’ll have to come up with another strategy.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Ellen, Livvy, and I had an idea today that might accomplish your goal. Or at least help.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, it’s mostly speculation and wishful thinking, I guess. But we were at the library trying to find more information on the last missing painting, and we got to talking.”

  “And that’s news because...” Paul teased.

  Kate rolled her eyes but smiled. “We were talking about the old town of Harrington and the ironworks, and what a shame it will be when Oliver Coats sells the land. So much history will be lost forever. We thought it would be wonderful if the town could be restored. It occurred to us that Harrington has a lot of potential as a tourist attraction.”

  “Except for the fact that it’s almost completely inaccessible,” Paul pointed out.

  “We thought of that. Ellen’s great-grandfather and his brother had a falling out over building a railroad line up the side of the ridge closest to where the interstate is now. If it was possible back then, surely it could be done today.”

  “And the place would become what, exactly?”

  “A tourist destination. With a hotel, a bed-and-breakfast, shops, a wedding chapel...things like that. I know it’s not enough to single-handedly bolster the local economy, but it would create a number of jobs. And perhaps attract some artists and craftspeople to the area.

  “Copper Mill would benefit too. Not just from more sales-tax revenue, but I’d bet that tourists would stop here to see the sights and buy something at the Mercantile or the pharmacy. Maybe have ice cream at Emma’s or get their hair done at Betty’s.”

  “You’ve clearly given this some thought.”

  “Probably not enough, but I think it has possibilities.”

  Paul grimaced. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have resigned from the chamber. I might have interested them in something like that. But, Katie, it just felt like I was casting pearls before swine.”

  “I can imagine. Doesn’t sound like they left you any choice but to resign. Plus, the restoration idea won’t have a chance unless we can find that will. Otherwise, Oliver Coats will push that sale through, and the land will end up in the hands of a paper company.”

  “Any news on that front?”

  “Only that it looks as if the final painting burned in a fire. But given that we only have Oliver’s word for it, I’m skeptical.”

  “Was the fire in this area?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Why not talk to John Sharpe, the insurance agent? He might know something.”

  “That’s an excellent idea, Paul.” She pressed closer and kissed his cheek. “You’re a genius.”

  “Not enough of one to figure out how to transform the chamber of commerce.”

  “I’m not sure Moses, Elijah, and the apostle Paul combined could sway Lawton Briddle when he’s made up his mind about something.”

  Paul chuckled. “I think you may be onto something there, Katie.”

  “There’s something else I wanted to talk with you about,” she said. “I thought I’d invite Ellen for dinner tomorrow night. Is that okay?” She’d decided that her on-again, off-again uneasiness about Paul’s prior relationship with Ellen had held her back long enough. And the fact that Bill Rohde would be present made the timing even better.

  “Sure,” Paul said. “Along with Bill, we’ll have a foursome for a game of bridge.”

  “That would be fun, but I’m not sure Ellen plays.”

  “She does,” Paul said absently as he turned a corner.

  Kate swallowed. Of course he would know that.

  “Anyway,” Kate said, suddenly needing to change the subject. “Did Clifton update you on Ida Mae today? How’s she doing?”

  They passed the rest of the drive to the Beasley’s discussing what they might do to help the older couple. Kate was glad to hear that church members had been stopping by with meals from the Faith Freezer Program, and Paul told Kate he appreciated her calling the folks on Faith Briar’s prayer chain with updates on Ida Mae’s recovery.

  By the time Paul drove up to the Beasley house, Kate was feeling a little more optimistic about solving Ellen’s mystery. That task, like caring for the Beasleys, wasn’t hers alone. She had lots of help, plenty of resources, and the knowledge that in a small town like Copper Mill, her friends were her greatest asset.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kate sprinkled freshly chopped parsley on the top of the chicken divan, the finishing touch to one of her favorite dinner-party dishes. Bill Rohde had already arrived and was cleaning up in the guest bathroom when Paul poked his head around the corner and sniffed appreciatively.

  “Smells as divine as a sermon,” he teased. He walked over to where Kate was standing at the counter near the oven. “And do I smell homemade rolls?”

  “You know you do, Paul Hanlon. The dough’s been rising all day.” Kate loved the way the house smelled whenever she baked.

  “I know it’s not easy to connect your husband with his former girlfriend. I appreciate it, Katie.”

  It was a good reminder that Paul did see how she could feel threatened by Ellen. But just as Kate was about to offer a reply, Paul reached for a bacon-wrapped shrimp hors d’oeuvre on the appetizer platter. Kate swiped at his hand, thankful for the distraction.

  “Those are for our guests,” she warned him in a mock threatening tone.

  “I’ll have to invite Bill to visit more often if it means fancy vittles like these.” Paul spoke with an exaggerated Southern drawl.

  Kate handed him the platter. “Here. Make yourself useful and take these out to the living room. Ellen will be here any minute.”

  “It’ll be nice for Bill and Ellen to meet—” Paul stopped dead midsentence and gave Kate a suspicious grin. “Wait a minute, Kate...What’s going on?”

  Kate affected a nonchalant air. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She reached for a spoon to stir the pot bubbling on the stove and hoped Paul couldn’t see her slightly upturned lips.

  “Isn’t the timing a bit suspicious? Bill comes to visit, and that’s when you finally decide to invite Ellen over for dinner? Are you matchmaking, Katie?”

  “Even if I w
as,” Kate replied, “which I’m not, I certainly wouldn’t admit to it.” Kate had already made the connection, though she wasn’t sure whether Ellen was ready to date yet. But she figured it couldn’t hurt for Ellen to at least meet Bill and get back in the habit of socializing.

  At that moment, Bill appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Smells great, Kate,” Bill said, echoing Paul’s earlier compliment. “Can I help you with anything?”

  Kate liked a man who was willing to pitch in, even when he clearly wasn’t the type who knew his way around a kitchen.

  “No, I don’t think so, Bill. Just make sure Paul gets the hors d’oeuvres to the living room without devouring them.”

  “That’s like setting a wolf to guard the hen house,” Paul protested good-naturedly.

  The doorbell rang.

  “That’s Ellen.” Kate reached for a hand towel to wipe her fingers and then untied her apron. But before she could move toward the door, Bill intervened.

  “I’ll answer it, Kate. You shouldn’t have to do everything,” he said with a smile, then disappeared around the corner.

  “I’ve got these,” Paul said, giving Kate a peck on the cheek before picking up the second platter and heading into the living room.

  Kate followed him and stopped short near the front door. Bill and Ellen stood just inside the front door already chatting away.

  “We introduced ourselves,” Bill said, turning to Kate and Paul.

  Kate bit her lip to keep from smiling. Her dinner party was off to a great start.

  AFTER THE MEAL, Kate served dessert and coffee in the living room. Eventually the conversation turned to the ongoing mystery Ellen and Kate were trying to solve.

  “Wouldn’t the easiest way to solve this be to try and get Carol alone and talk to her about your idea for restoring Harrington?” Bill asked. “Her husband can hardly sell the property without her consent.”

  Kate shook her head. “I don’t think it would help. She may have been trying to discuss that with me at the end of my second visit, but Oliver interrupted us before Carol could say whatever it was she wanted to tell me. Oliver has her so cowed, I’m not sure she’d say boo without his permission.”

  Ellen sighed. “Carol was quiet, but a bit mischievous when we were young, so she’s definitely changed over the years. Oliver was overbearing when they started dating, and once I moved away, well, I suspected that he discouraged her from keeping in touch with me. I just never thought his control over her was quite so harmful.”

  “Why is he so set on selling the property,” Paul asked, “especially if he’s done well with his construction business?”

  “Are you sure he has?” Bill inquired. “In my experience, you can’t usually judge a thing like that without a peek at the account books.”

  They all nodded, considering Bill’s intriguing question. After a few minutes of silence, Paul turned the conversation to another topic, and the four of them enjoyed the remainder of their evening together, playing bridge, laughing and telling stories for several hours.

  Ellen and Bill particularly seemed to enjoy the evening, and even tended to ignore Kate and Paul in the flow of their own conversation. But Kate didn’t take it personally. She was just happy that Ellen was distracted from reminiscing with Paul, and she was even happier that Ellen had found someone who made her laugh.

  “WHY, KATIE. You wily little fox,” Paul said as he helped her wash up the last of the dishes.

  Ellen had left a half hour before, and Bill had said good night not long after Ellen.

  “Wily? What do you mean?” Kate shot her husband a look of feigned surprise.

  “You can play innocent all you want with other people, but this is me. Paul. Your husband.”

  “I think your imagination has veered off into Overactive Land again,” Katie teased, rinsing off a plate and setting it in the dish drain.

  “You knew they’d hit it off.”

  “Who?”

  “All right, if that’s the way you want to play it.” He leaned over to kiss her. “But even if you won’t acknowledge it, I know the truth.”

  “The truth is that it’s late, and you need some sleep,” she said to Paul. She wrung out the dishcloth and hung it over the faucet to dry. “As do I. It’s been quite a day.”

  “Yes, it has. Especially for the matchmakers in the crowd,” Paul teased. “Martha Sinclair better watch out. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Kate pursed her lips at him and then laughed. “Come on. You have to get up early to drive Bill to the airport in Chattanooga tomorrow.” The dishes finished, they turned out the kitchen light and headed for bed.

  “I’VE BEEN THINKING about what Bill said at dinner last week,” Ellen confided to Kate as they were leaving the classroom the following Tuesday morning.

  Kate was careful to keep her expression neutral. Why shouldn’t two people who had recently lost their spouses enjoy each other’s company?

  “You and Bill really seemed to hit it off,” Kate said in an attempt to be encouraging.

  “Hit it off?” Ellen looked confused. “Oh, Kate.” She flushed and then giggled like a teenager. “Oh no. That wasn’t what I meant.”

  Kate thought Ellen might be protesting a bit too much, but she knew enough to step tenderly when it came to the romantic feelings of others.

  “I’m sorry. What did you mean?”

  “I meant what Bill said about telling Carol about our idea for saving Harrington.”

  “But what about Oliver? He’d never allow such a conversation to take place, and she’s obviously too afraid to stand up to him.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. And I wanted to ask you whether Carol said anything about me either time you visited their home?”

  “I don’t remember her saying much of anything beyond hello and good-bye. And when she pulled me aside at the end of the last visit to try and tell me something, she didn’t get a chance. I wish we’d had more time to talk before Oliver ruined the moment. I’m sorry, Ellen. She never said anything about you. I wish I could tell you different.”

  “No, no. That’s all right. It’s the truth. Oliver really does have her under his thumb.”

  “His fist, more like it,” Kate said. “It’s painful to watch her when she’s around him.”

  “So you’re thinking of approaching her when Oliver’s not around?”

  Ellen nodded. “I was looking on his company’s Web site, and he has a board of directors meeting in Nashville the next few days. I thought maybe...well, that this might be the time to try to talk with her.”

  “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

  “I’m glad you think so. Because I want you to go with me.”

  “Hmm. Are you sure? Carol might be more receptive if you came alone.”

  “She knows you, though, at least a little. And I think the presence of a third party—especially a minister’s wife—might be a good buffer.”

  “You know I’m happy to help if I can. Are you going to phone her first to set something up?”

  Ellen shook her head. “I think it’s best if we just show up on her doorstep. If she has too much time to think about it, she might refuse to see me out of fear.”

  Over the years, Kate had met more than a few women whose every move was controlled and coerced by their domineering husbands. From what she’d seen, Carol Coats definitely fell into that category.

  “When do you want to go?”

  “Oliver’s board meeting begins tomorrow. So, would tomorrow morning be all right for you? I don’t have any morning classes scheduled.”

  Kate mentally reviewed her own schedule. “Yes. That would work. Should I swing by and pick you up?”

  “That would be great.” She stopped walking and turned to Kate. “I can’t thank you enough, you know. All your efforts are definitely above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “It’s just my version of a shiny apple for the teacher,” Kate teased.

  Ellen laughed. “Well, it’s
some apple.”

  The women parted company, and on the way home to Copper Mill, Kate sent up a prayer that their impromptu meeting with Carol Coats would go as well as Ellen hoped it would.

  MAYBE THIRD TIME’S A CHARM, Kate thought the next morning as she and Ellen followed a flustered Carol into the peach-and-cream sunroom at the rear of her home.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Ellen said to her cousin as she took a seat on the wicker sofa. “I know it’s been a long time.”

  “Yes.” Carol perched on the edge of a chair, looking as if she might flee at any moment. “Thirty years or more.”

  “You look well,” Ellen said.

  Kate sat down at the other end of the sofa and tried to make herself as invisible as she could.

  “Thank you.” And then Carol fell silent.

  She clearly wasn’t going to initiate any meaningful conversation. In fact, Kate had thought at first that she wasn’t going to let them past the front door. But Ellen’s plea must have touched a responsive chord somewhere in her cousin.

  “I suppose you know why I’m here,” Ellen began.

  Carol nodded but made no other reply.

  “I need your help,” Ellen said, proceeding straight to the point.

  Kate wondered whether that was the best strategy with someone as skittish as Carol.

  “I don’t know how I could be of any help to you,” Carol murmured.

  “You can save High Hoot Ridge,” Ellen replied. “I know you used to value it as much as I did. We had such good times there, with Anne and Betsy, when we were younger.”

  Carol’s face showed a ghost of a smile. “Yes. I remember.”

  “It would be a shame for such a beautiful place to be sold for the lumber,” Ellen said, pressing her case.

  “Oliver thinks it’s for the best.”

  “What do you think? It’s your land, after all. Or at least it’s your responsibility, since I can’t find my grandfather’s second will.”

  “There is no second will,” Carol said, but even Kate could tell she was parroting Oliver’s words.

  “My grandmother said there was. That it left me my grandfather’s share of the property.”

  Carol twisted her hands together in her lap. “You really shouldn’t be here. Oliver wouldn’t like it.”