by Leslie Meier
“An increase in the price of newsprint,” said Ted, sighing and seating himself at his desk, where he fired up his computer. “That’s what.”
“Gotcha,” said Lucy, flipping open her notebook and reviewing her notes, looking for a way to perk up her account of the meeting. She was just about to reach for her cell phone to call Frankie La Chance when it rang, and she began frantically digging into her jumbo purse, which was big enough to contain a couple of reporter’s notebooks, countless pens, grocery coupons, wallet, keys, first-aid supplies, lunch, snacks, and finally, lurking in the bottom, her phone.
“Hi,” she said, hoping the caller hadn’t been sent to voice mail.
“Hi, Mom.” She smiled, recognizing the voice of her son, Toby, calling from far-off Alaska. In Lucy’s mind, Alaska was covered with snow year-round, was populated by polar bears, and everyone wore fur-lined parkas and lived in igloos.
“Hi, yourself,” she said, absolutely delighted. Toby rarely called, relying instead on Facebook to keep in touch, and she was looking forward to a nice chat. Then that little niggle of anxiety wormed its way into her mind. “Is everything okay?”
“What? You only think I call because something’s the matter?”
“Well . . .” began Lucy, not sure how to respond, because Toby most often called when there was some sort of problem.
“You’re right, Mom, we are in a bit of trouble.”
“Is it Patrick?” she asked, fearing the worst.
“No, he’s fine. It’s Molly.”
Lucy was hugely relieved, then immediately guilt-stricken. She loved Molly, she really did, but she had to admit she sometimes found her a bit difficult. She hadn’t approved of Molly’s plan announced last Christmas to leave her husband and child for a year to study German language and folktales in Heidelberg, and had been much relieved when she decided instead to become a dog trainer after an unfortunate incident when Skittles bit her mother. As far as Lucy knew, Jolene was still struggling to recover full use of her leg. “Oh, no. What’s happened?”
“One of the sled dogs she was working with bit her hand; she was training for the Iditarod, you know.”
Lucy hadn’t known of Molly’s latest ambitious scheme. “That long dog sled race?” asked Lucy.
“Yeah, it was a dream of hers, but it’s out of the question now.”
Lucy thought of the extensive damage Skittles had inflicted on Jolene, a wound that stubbornly resisted healing as well as causing persisting pain and muscle damage, and was afraid Molly might lose her hand. “Will she be all right?”
“Eventually,” said Toby, with a big sigh. “It’s her right hand and she’s going to need several surgeries and a lengthy rehab.”
“I’m glad they can repair her hand,” said Lucy. “But it’s going to be a long haul, for you and Patrick, too.”
“That’s the problem, Mom. I’ve been asked to take part in a research cruise out of Woods Hole; you know, the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute in Massachusetts. It’s quite an honor, even though I’ll be filling in for the first guy they asked; he actually needs chemo and won’t be able to go. Anyway, it’s a two-month commitment. . . .”
“But Molly needs you,” said Lucy. She was trying to think how she could help, but she wasn’t free to go to Alaska. She had plenty of responsibilities here at home. It was true that youngest daughter Zoe was spending her junior year abroad in France, where her older sister Elizabeth now lived, but there was still her husband, Bill, her middle daughter, Sara, and her job.
“Actually, Molly’s okay with me going. She says it will be easier for her if she can just concentrate on getting her hand fixed. The problem is Patrick. We need someone to take care of him.”
“I’d love to help, but I can’t just pick up and go to Alaska. I don’t suppose Jolene . . .”
“She’s gone to stay with her sister in Florida. There’s a top wound-care clinic there, and she’s hoping they can fix her leg. She’s planning to stay for a couple of months,” said Patrick. “And you won’t have to come to Alaska. I could bring Patrick to you when I report to Woods Hole,” said Toby. “Would that be okay? I know it’s a lot to ask. . . .”
“Okay? It would be great,” said Lucy, her heart leaping. Two months. Two months with Patrick. It was a grandmother’s dream come true. “When are you coming?”
“In two weeks?”
“Super! I’ll make cookies.” Then, ashamed, she remembered poor Molly, who would be dealing with a painful recovery all alone. “Is there something I can send Molly?”
Chapter Two
Lucy gave the comforter on the bed in Toby’s old room a tweak, and smoothed the freshly changed pillowcase, satisfied that everything was ready for Patrick and Toby’s arrival sometime in the afternoon. Everything except the grocery shopping, which was the last thing on her list. Well, except for the peanut butter cookies that were Patrick’s favorite, and she’d make them as soon as she got back from the store.
She had a big list, intending to stock up on all the foods she knew kids liked and that Patrick’s mother didn’t necessarily approve of, like Cocoa Puffs cereal. Molly had e-mailed her with a list of foods she wanted Lucy to provide for Patrick, things like kale and quinoa, and even a few that Lucy had never heard of, like faro and acai berries. Lucy had studied the list and decided it was probably a case of wishful thinking on Molly’s part, and decided to spend her money on foods the child would actually eat. She’d seen plenty of pictures of Patrick on Facebook, and she was worried he looked much too thin. She was going to feed him up with good, old-fashioned mainstays like Cheerios, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and spaghetti and meatballs. After school, he would snack on homemade cookies and a big glass of full fat milk.
Lucy usually did her grocery shopping on Wednesdays, after the week’s deadline when she had a free afternoon, and the IGA was not very busy. This week, she’d held off until Saturday morning, and the store was humming with shoppers getting ready for Halloween. Pumpkins and chrysanthemums were displayed outside the store and inside the produce section was brimful of winter squash, colorful gourds, tote bags of apples, and gallon bottles of cider. Lucy grabbed it all and her cart was nearly full, thanks to a very large pumpkin, when she headed on to the fish counter. Cod was on sale and she was planning to make chowder, which she figured was a surefire way to get Patrick to eat some fish. And since it was only going into chowder, she figured the cheap “previously frozen” fish from the grocery store would be just fine.
Franny Small was already there, buying a single swordfish steak. “That’s much too big,” she told the clerk, Carrie Bennett, who was weighing out the fish. “That’s more than half a pound. I can’t possibly eat that much.”
“I can cut it in half,” offered Carrie.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” said Franny.
“Not at all.” Carrie removed the fish from the scale and sliced it in half, holding out one of the pieces for Franny’s approval.
“Oh, that’s much too small,” said Franny.
“Let’s try another piece,” said Carrie, plopping another steak on the scale. “Six ounces. How’s that?”
“You know, I don’t really like swordfish all that much. I don’t think I want any after all.”
Carrie pressed her lips together, struggling to keep her temper. “Have a nice day,” she told Franny, who was already headed off in the direction of the meat counter. She turned to Lucy. “What can I get for you?”
“Two pounds of cod,” said Lucy, upping her order in an attempt to make up for Franny’s annoying behavior.
Hearing her voice, Franny whirled around. “Oh, Lucy. I didn’t see you there, behind me.”
Lucy smiled. “Well, you don’t have eyes in the back of your head.”
“No, but the ones in front are perfectly fine,” said Franny, eager to announce her big news. “Guess what? I think my new neighbors have moved in. The lawn has been mowed and there are lights on at night.”
“So soon
?” Lucy hadn’t expected the sale to move so quickly. “It must be nice to finally have neighbors after the house was empty so long. I wonder if they’re planning to remodel?” Lucy’s husband, Bill, a restoration carpenter, was just finishing up his latest job and didn’t have another lined up.
“I wouldn’t know,” said Franny, with a little jerk of her head. “I haven’t actually spoken to them.”
“But you’ve seen them?”
“Only briefly.” Franny clearly did not approve of the situation. “I’ve had glimpses, the briefest of glimpses, when FedEx delivers a package and they open the door to grab it. Then it shuts, and they’re out of sight.”
Lucy suspected that Franny was keeping a close watch on her new neighbors, perhaps even resorting to binoculars.
“Didn’t you see them mowing the lawn? What about when they moved in? Did they move themselves or did they hire a moving company?”
“Landscapers came one afternoon and did the lawn,” reported Franny. “That was my first clue that something was up.” Then she lowered her voice and stepped closer to Lucy. “I think they must have moved in after dark. Under cover of night.”
“That’s weird,” said Carrie, handing Lucy the wrapped package of fish. “Of course, the days are getting shorter. It’s dark at five in the afternoon.”
“That’s true,” said Lucy. “And daylight savings will end soon, too, and then it’s dark at four.”
“It happens every year; it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone,” said Franny, raising her eyebrows. “If you ask me, I think they planned to move in after dark so no one would see them.”
“Why would they do that?” asked Lucy, placing the wrapped fish in her cart.
“Maybe they’re in the witness protection program or something,” teased Carrie.
“You can make fun,” said Franny, narrowing her eyes, “but mark my words: Those Moon people are hiding something. They’re not behaving like normal people.” With that, Franny switched her plastic basket from one arm to the other, turned on her heel, and marched off in the direction of the frozen foods.
“She’s a card, isn’t she?” observed Carrie, with a chuckle.
“For sure,” said Lucy, but as she headed for the cereal aisle she wondered if Franny was on to something. She was no dummy; she’d built her costume jewelry company from the ground up, combining nuts and bolts into unique designs when she was a salesclerk at Slack’s Hardware Store. Slack’s was long gone, replaced by a national chain, but Franny had become a self-made millionaire.
* * *
Back at the house on Red Top Road, Lucy got busy mixing up cookie dough, and assembling the chowder. The cookies were cooling on wire racks and she had just set the completed chowder on a low heat to simmer when she heard a jubilant series of honks. Toby and Patrick had arrived!
She was the first to greet them, getting a big hug from Toby. His size, at nearly six feet, always amazed her. How had that happened? She remembered him as a kid, but now here was Patrick, looking an awful lot like Toby did when he was a boy. She got a nice hug from Patrick, too, and then Bill and Sara flew out the door and there were more hugs and exclamations of welcome. Libby, the family’s black Lab, tried to join in but was somewhat hampered by arthritis and had to limit her participation to wagging her tail.
“How was the traffic? You made good time,” said Bill, eyeing the shiny new rental car. “How do you like the car? Keyless ignition, right?”
“How’s Molly?” asked Sara. “What about the dog? They didn’t put it down, did they?” She was a big animal lover, and it wasn’t clear whether she was more worried about Molly’s condition or the dog’s situation.
“Let them come in and get settled,” chided Lucy, noticing Patrick’s drooping eyes. “They’ve had a long trip.”
Once in the house Bill and Toby were supplied with beers, Lucy brewed some tea for herself and provided glasses of cider for Sara and Patrick. They all gathered at the big golden oak table in the kitchen, munching on Lucy’s still-warm homemade peanut butter cookies and catching up on the news. It was just like old times, thought Lucy, beaming at the sight of her son and grandson within arm’s reach. Too bad for Jolene, she thought, who would miss Patrick’s visit.
“My goodness, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you,” she told Patrick, who was busy on his third, or perhaps fourth, cookie.
“So, Toby, what’s this project you’re going to be working on?” asked Bill.
“They’re studying how climate change is affecting patterns of predation, and my focus is going to be on salmon,” explained Toby.
“That sounds interesting,” said Sara, who was also a scientist, currently working on a graduate degree in geology.
“Yeah, it’s a great opportunity,” said Toby, reaching for another cookie. “It’s just hard that the timing’s so bad. But Patrick’s excited about being here with you guys. Right, Patrick?”
Patrick didn’t look terribly excited; Lucy thought he actually looked rather unhappy. She suspected he already missed his mother and home and was anxious about going to a new school. “So tell me, Patrick,” she began, “what’s your favorite subject?”
“Science, I guess. We’ve been learning about volcanoes and how the earth’s center is made of hot, melted rocks.”
“Cool!” exclaimed Sara. “Don’t you love it? How the earth has changed over millions of years?”
“It’s okay,” said Patrick, with a shrug and a sigh.
“So what do you like to do after school?” asked Lucy.
Now Patrick brightened up. “Soccer!”
“Patrick plays after school and his team is having a great season,” said Toby. “He’s one of the best players and they’re going to miss him.”
“What position do you play?” asked Bill.
“Sometimes I’m goalie, but I also play center.”
“We have a soccer program, I’ll call Janet Nowicki and see if you can join a team,” offered Lucy.
“Cool,” said Patrick. “Do you have a ball? I’d like to kick it around now.”
“Sure thing,” said Sara, popping up. “I’ll play, too. I could sure use some exercise.”
The house had been much too quiet lately, thought Lucy, enjoying the thwack of feet on the soccer ball and the cries of the two players as she cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. Bill and Toby were unloading the car, thumping suitcases up the back stairs, and grunting. Even Libby was involved, greeting them every time the door opened and escorting them through the kitchen, her nails clicking on the wooden floor. Lucy’s almost empty nest was once again full, if only temporarily, and she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.
* * *
On Monday, Lucy took Patrick to school, enrolling him in the third grade. The principal took them on a quick tour and then it was time for Patrick to report to his class and for Lucy to leave. He knew his father was already on his way to Woods Hole, and now he was going to be on his own, facing a new teacher and new kids. “You’ll be fine,” said Lucy, giving him a quick peck and watching as he walked through the door. She felt a bit as if she was watching him go before a judge, maybe even a firing squad, and knew it was ridiculous because he would be riding home on the school bus in a few hours.
Nevertheless, she was glad when she met Janet Nowicki, who was coming into the school as she was leaving, carrying a big mesh bag filled with soccer balls.
“Hi, Lucy,” said Janet, with a big smile. “Great story about that selectmen’s meeting—the one about the haunted house. You really nailed it.”
“It was a lot more interesting than most of those board meetings, that’s for sure,” said Lucy. “But I guess the problem’s been solved. I hear the new people have moved in to the old house.”
“They haven’t done much, though,” said Janet, with a sniff. “The grass has been cut but there’s no sign of any renovations or repairs.”
“I’m on the case,” said Lucy. “I’m going to stop by with one of Bill’s fancy ne
w brochures. His current project is ending and he doesn’t have anything else lined up until spring.”
“If they’ve got any sense, they’ll grab him. He’s not often free, is he?”
“Not often. And I gotta tell you, I’m a bit nervous about our finances. It’s going to be a long, cold winter and I’ve got an extra mouth to feed, too.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, my eight-year-old grandson is staying with us for a few months.”
“That’s great. You must be thrilled, especially with Halloween coming so soon.”
“Yeah,” agreed Lucy. “It’s going to be a lot of fun. But I think he’s going to be a bit homesick. He says he loves to play soccer. . . .”
“Well, sign him up!” exclaimed Janet. “Practice is right here Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, games are on Saturday morning.”
“Thanks,” said Lucy, with a little wave, pushing open the door.
“Thank you,” said Janet. “We can always use another player.”
The elementary school was positioned so that the parking lot was behind the building, approached from Oak Street, which intersected with School Street. That meant that Lucy hadn’t passed the Moon house at 66 School Street when she brought Patrick, even though it was actually located opposite the school. Since it was so close, she left her car in the lot, to walk over. Pausing at the curb, she took a moment to study the house.
It was early days, of course, as the Moons had just moved in, but apart from the newly mowed lawn there was little evidence that the house was now occupied. Lucy wouldn’t have expected a new roof to magically sprout, or a fresh coat of paint to bloom on the weathered clapboard, but she thought most newcomers would have announced their arrival by setting a pot of chrysanthemums or a pumpkin on the porch steps. And they might have put up new curtains or set a lamp in a window. At the very least, she thought, crossing the street and stepping onto the porch, she would have expected a new doormat. Perhaps one that said Welcome. But there was no sign of the new homeowners, and the doorbell didn’t work when she pressed it. So she knocked, and waited, and knocked again. There was a car in the driveway, which usually signified that someone was home, but nobody was answering the door.