Reflecting Love's Charms (Bellingwood Book 14)

by Diane Greenwood Muir

  "That's not a bad idea. She’s doing so much more than when she started."

  "Give her my office," Polly said.

  "Wait. What? No. You need your office. We discussed moving the conference room over to the classrooms and turning that into a couple of offices."

  "I'm hardly ever in my office these days," Polly said. "That's not really the way I work anymore. I can use Henry's office upstairs if I need to. Stephanie and I can talk about some of the bookkeeping functions that I usually do. She can take more of that on and all I have to do is go through what she puts in front of me and approve it. Right?"

  "I suppose." Jeff wasn't totally on board with this yet, she could tell.

  "Think about it." Polly smiled. "Maybe everything changes next year when we move out. Maybe we put the offices upstairs in the apartment and open the whole downstairs up to customers. Dream big, think way outside the box. What else would you like to do in our little empire?" She rubbed her hands together. "To the dark side I shall not turn, so great power we have at our hands."

  He laughed. "Let's go slowly, though."

  "Not too slowly," Polly said. "When Stephanie comes back, promote her and give her my office. We'll pack my knick-knacks up and store them for now. But she is coming back. Right?"

  "That's a heck of a bonus for running away," he said.

  Polly glared and Jeff put his hands up defensively. "I know, I know. I'm being good. It's the right thing to do. Let's just get her back home where she belongs."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Polly was growing nervous about getting the Bell House ready for the summer celebration. Now she had something else to think about. Moving out of her office was one thing, but the idea that she could turn her home upstairs into the offices for Sycamore House was really interesting. When she walked through the front door, she stopped and looked around. The space was immense and could be used in so many ways.

  Han yapped at her while Obiwan paced at her feet. "I know. I know," she said. "You never get enough attention." Polly walked through to her bedroom and found the two cats curled up on the bed in a sunbeam. "You two are slugs."

  She changed into her sloppy yardwork clothes and headed for the back door. When the dogs followed, she stopped them. "Not this time. One of these days you'll live there, but not yet."

  Obiwan lay down on the floor in front of Henry's desk and put his head on his paws. Han, as always, didn't get it and followed her to the top of the steps. "Stay," Polly commanded. He gave her the saddest eyes he had and stood in place. "You're killing me," she said. "Go play with the rest of the animals, you aren't going with me." She pointed at Obiwan. Han gave another yap and sat down to watch her leave. This was the part she hated the most about coming home in the middle of the day and then leaving. They always made her feel guilty about that whole leaving again thing.

  When she got to the house, she wasn't surprised to still see people working in the back yard. She knew better than to try to do anything back there, so she grabbed up her pruning shears, gloves and shovel to start working on the mess in the side yard. As she walked past the front door, Polly stopped and looked up at the house. "One of these days, you and I will be friends, but right now you're the bane of my existence."

  Just before Polly turned the corner, she heard a large truck pull in and turned back to see who it was. It surprised her to see the name of a lumber company on the door and a huge load of lumber on the flatbed. She could barely contain the grin on her face as she walked back across the yard.

  "Hello," she called out to the driver.

  "Are you Ms. Giller?" he asked.

  "Yes I am." She was a little confused as to how he knew she'd be here.

  "Your husband ordered this and we're supposed to drop it in front of the house. Okay if we walk across the yard?"

  Polly looked at the sad excuse for a lawn and nodded. "Sure. What is this?"

  "It looks like you need a porch." He gestured at the open space. "There's enough here to make a very nice porch." He handed her a clipboard. "Since you're here, do you mind signing for it?"

  She took the clipboard and backed up out of the way as they started pulling things from the back of the truck.

  "What did you do?" she texted to Henry.

  His response was immediate. "Got a delivery there?"

  "How did you know I'd be here?"

  "I told Gus to drop it in front of the house whether you were there or not."

  "It's a porch, right?" she texted back.

  "And there should be some windows with the delivery, too."

  Polly watched those get unloaded and stacked against the house. "I think I love you."

  "I know."

  She chuckled. That would never get old. "Thank you for this."

  "You're going to have to paint it."

  "I'll do anything."

  "Anything? I'm up for anything."

  "You bet'cha, baby," she texted. "Name the time and place and I'll be ready."

  "You're killing me. I have to get back to work."

  "Ms. Giller?"

  "Are you Gus?" she asked.

  He smiled. "Talked to your husband, did you? He said this was going to be a surprise for you." Gus looked around, taking in the house. "There's a lot of work ahead for you here. Good thing you have someone like Henry to do it."

  "I know," she responded, handing him back his clipboard. "And it's a good thing we aren't in any hurry. Henry has a lot of other things that will take precedence."

  Gus laughed. "If you're looking for another contractor, I know a few in the area." He gave her a toothy grin. "Make sure you tell Sturtz I said that, okay?"

  "I will. Thanks so much. You guys made my day."

  "Any time we can make a pretty lady's day by dropping a load of lumber in her yard is a good day for us, ma'am."

  Polly watched them back out and drive away, then wandered over to the pile of lumber. She wanted to pat it and tell it how happy she was that it was here, but thought that might be too much.

  Another truck pulling into the driveway drew her attention. Polly had no idea what GPR stood for, so she waited for the young man to get out. She began to feel a little foolish when he didn't open the door right up and she realized that he was texting or checking email or doing something on his phone. So, she sent another text to Henry.

  "What's GPR?"

  "Nice timing," he sent back.

  "What is it?"

  "Ground penetrating radar. Barry owes me a favor. He's going to check the yard for more underground rooms."

  "Really? This fast?"

  "Tell me what you're doing at the house today?"

  Polly wondered why he was asking. "I was going to start ripping into the shrubs on the side of the house."

  "Exactly. You are on a mission and I can't keep you out of that place. It's easier to just get on it and know you're safe."

  "Oh." She chuckled. He really did know her well. "He's finally getting out of his truck. I'll talk to you later." Polly sent the text and walked over to the young man who had studiously ignored her as he opened the back of his pickup.

  "Hello there," she said. "Are you Barry?"

  He stuck his head around the truck and said, "You Henry's wife?"

  "I am. He says you're checking for underground rooms."

  "Yeah. He told me you fell in one yesterday. Don't want that happening again. I'll check for telephone and cable while I'm here. Might as well know where everything is."

  "You probably won't find much," Polly said. "No one's lived here since the nineteen-forties."

  He nodded and stuck his head back into the truck.

  "I'll be around," Polly said. "Let me know if you need anything." She waited a moment for a response and when none came, walked away.

  "Chatty fellow," she texted to Henry.

  He came back with, "LOL."

  "You're chatty too," she muttered. "I hate texting that man when he's busy."

  Two hours later, Polly retreated to her truck for something to d
rink and a break from the heat. Barry hadn't said anything to her yet and she had no idea how long he was planning to work. There was no way she was leaving before him, just in case he had interesting information to reveal. The door to her truck stood open and she rolled the window down on the passenger side. The cool breeze was relaxing and she leaned her head back and shut her eyes. Just for a minute.

  "Are you Miss Giller?"

  Polly popped her eyes open and sat up straight. "Hello there," she said and put her hand out. "Yes I am."

  "My name is Pat Lynch," the older woman said. "I haven't had a chance to get down to meet you since we got back from Florida last month." She nodded down the street. "We live just around the corner there in the brown house with red shutters."

  Polly nodded. "You spend winters in Florida?"

  "Every year," the woman said with a smile. "But we miss home and our friends, so as long as we can make the trip back and forth, we will. Betty said you all bought this old place. It looks like you've taken on quite a task. It's about time someone decided to do something. My Albert used to trim the bushes along the sidewalk until he couldn't do that any longer. Don't know why the city didn't take better care of it." She chuckled. "Maybe they were scared of the ghost. That was quite a lot of excitement last fall."

  "Did you know Mr. Bridger?" Polly asked.

  "I sure did. His mama, too. Me and Albert, we've been married and living in our house for fifty-three years. We raised three kids and now we have eight grandkids and three great grandchildren. They're one of the best reasons for coming back to Iowa. Well," she said. "One of our granddaughters lives in Tampa. She has two babies, so we see her during the winter. Betty says you have a couple of older kids. But they aren't yours. Did you adopt them?"

  Polly watched helplessly as Barry put his equipment in his truck. Without so much as a look her way, he climbed back into the driver's seat, backed out, and drove off. She turned her attention back to the woman standing in front of her. "Yes, we adopted both of them. Rebecca is in seventh grade and Heath is a junior in high school."

  "It will be nice to have more young people in the neighborhood. We got old around here. But there is another young family that just moved in last summer. They're on the next block over, though. They have two little boys who go to the elementary school. Wilkens is their last name. Say, you look like you've gotten warm. Would you like to come over for something cool to drink? I'd love to have you meet my Albert. He doesn't get around as good as me these days, but he's still a witty man. I have to do all the driving. He'd put us in a ditch, mark my words. The government took away his driving license last year. Said his eyesight was going. I think it was just an excuse to make sure he doesn't drive. But that's okay. I can get us wherever we need to go. We have a cute little golfcart to drive around down in Florida." She chuckled. "It's kind of like a playground down there for old folks. Nobody drives those carts very fast, so if we run into each other, we just play bumper cars and bounce off."

  "I'd love to stop by sometime, but not today," Polly said when the woman took a breath. "I need to go back to Sycamore House."

  "Any time you'd like to meet my Albert or say hello, please feel free. We're just around the corner there in the brown house. It has red shutters, you know. Albert painted them before he had that last stroke. He came back pretty good from it, but doesn't get around like he used to. I suppose the next time we have the house painted, we'll have to hire it out." Mrs. Lynch put her hand on the truck as she turned herself around. "Stop by sometime. We'd love to see you," she called out as she walked away.

  Polly pulled the truck door shut and breathed out, "Oh my. What a riot. And now, because I said I would, I have to leave." She backed out of the driveway, shaking her head. "I didn't talk to the people who are doing archeology in my back yard and I didn't talk to Barry."

  She drove away from the house, confused at what to do next. It wasn't often that people got the better of her, but it had certainly happened today. Going home and leaving the dogs again was not an option. Once per day was her limit on that guilt. Heading for the coffee shop wasn't a good option either. She was a mess. Between the sweat, dirt and weeds, Polly didn't feel like she was appropriate for human consumption.

  Wending her way through town to the highway, Polly headed west and then south to Boone. She dug down into the console and found a bottle of antibacterial hand wash that she'd jammed in there not long after Henry gave her the truck. That and a few napkins later, she was at least presentable enough to go through a drive-thru and make a quick trip to Hy-Vee to look at flowers.

  That was a joke. They'd probably die before she even got them back to Bellingwood. She and Eliseo had a conversation about hardy plants. If they couldn't live on their own, he'd just be subjecting them to an early grave by leaving them in her care.

  Every time she drove on this road, it brought a smile to her face. The fields were coming alive with crops, the ditches were green again and the sky was bright blue with a few puffy clouds.

  Polly slowed to avoid something in the road ahead of her and then screeched to a stop as she got closer. She turned her flashers on, jumped out of the truck, and took out her phone as she ran around the front to the person half on the road and the shoulder.

  "Hello, Polly?" Aaron asked tentatively.

  "I'm on R-27. There's someone lying on the road." Polly closed the distance, looking around to see where they'd come from.

  "Are they alive?"

  "I don't know yet," she said. "Just a second." She knelt down beside the young woman and reached out to touch her. "She's still warm. I'm looking for a pulse." Polly brushed the woman's hair back from her neck and pressed her fingers on the carotid artery. "I can't find a pulse, Aaron, but I'm not sure. She's really beat up. I don't know if she was hit by a car or what, though."

  "Someone's on the way. Can you stay with her?"

  "Of course I can."

  The young woman jerked and Polly jumped. "She just jerked. Tell me that isn't a dead person convulsion or something," Polly gasped into the phone.

  "I don't think so. Check her again," he said.

  "Miss, can you hear me?" Polly asked, leaning back in. There was no response, but she saw the girl's eyelids flutter. "Aaron, she's alive. Tell them to hurry."

  "Don't move," Polly said, touching the girl's arm. "I'm going to get some blankets."

  A low moan was the only response as Polly ran back to the truck. "Aaron, can I talk to you later? I need my hands."

  "I'll be there as soon as I can."

  Polly scrambled into the back seat of her truck and yanked out the towels and blankets she kept back there for the dogs. This was the second time she'd used them for something like this. She was never leaving the house without a pile of these again. She backed out of the truck and looked up as another vehicle slowed down to a stop behind her.

  "Are you okay?" a young man asked, getting out of the passenger seat. He took in the scene in front of her truck and rushed up. "Can I help you? Did you hit her?"

  "No," Polly said. "I just found her. The ambulance is on the way. I've already called the sheriff." She handed him a blanket. "We need to keep her warm. Take this and cover her legs."

  "What happened?" a woman asked, running up. "Oh! The poor girl. Do you know who it is?"

  Polly didn't say anything, just began layering towels across the girl's torso while looking her over. Bruises covered her face and upper arms, like a beating gone horribly bad. As the young man placed the blanket across her legs, he and Polly grimaced at each other over the cuts and bruises below her shorts.

  "Help me," a weak voice cracked.

  "I'm right here. My name is Polly Giller and I've called the sheriff. They'll be here to take care of you in a few minutes."

  "Am I dead?"

  "No honey, you're very much alive. I wasn't sure there for a minute, though."

  "Polly Giller?"

  Nervous laughter bubbled out of Polly. "Apparently, I find live people who need me, too," s
he said. "Don't worry. You're going to be fine." She sat down on the highway in front of the girl and slid her hand under the girl's hand that was resting on the asphalt. "Can you tell me your name?" Polly asked.

  There was no response, so Polly lifted her hand, raising the girl's arm, which sent tremors through her body. Something was broken there, the pain waking the girl back up.

  "What's your name, honey," Polly asked quietly, leaning in.

  "Lynn."

  "Lynn, as far as I know, you need to try to stay awake until the ambulance gets here. You scare me when you drift off."

  "Sorry," Lynn whispered.

  "No need to be sorry. I just want you to be okay. Did you get hit by a car?"

  Tears leaked from the girl's eyes. "No."

  "Are you from around here?"

  "No," Lynn said.

  It was obvious to Polly that Lynn didn't want to answer questions about what had happened, but Polly wanted to keep her talking. Then it occurred to Polly that if Lynn knew about her history with dead bodies, she'd just lied.

  "What's your name?" Polly asked the young man, who was probably in high school.

  He looked up at the woman, as if to ask for permission. She nodded after checking her watch.

  "I'm Josh Kramer. This is my mom, Madeline."

  "Thanks for stopping, Josh. This is Lynn."

  He looked at Polly, then said. "Nice to meet you, Lynn. I'm sorry you're hurt."

  "Are you from Bellingwood, Josh?" Polly asked.

  His mother bent forward. "No, we're from Stratford. We had an appointment in Boone. But we're going to be too late for it now. I should call them." She walked back toward her car.

  "I'm going to DMACC this fall," Josh said.

  "Yeah? What kind of courses."

  "Civil Engineering. I want to work outside." He breathed. "But I'm not a farmer. Dad drives a truck."

  "That's great," Polly said. "I really appreciate that you stopped." She looked up and back toward Boone as she finally heard sirens. "Do you hear that, Lynn? Everything is going to be okay."

  The girl had closed her eyes again and Polly couldn't see that she was breathing. "Lynn? Wake up. You have to talk to me. Come on, Lynn. Say something."