Finders Keepers

by Catherine Palmer

  He scared her half to death, and he relished it.

  “I have a puffy little fur ball,” Nick announced, carrying a small black-and-white puppy into the living room. “Look, Zachary! You can hardly see her tail.”

  “Be careful, honey,” Elizabeth said, coming to her feet. “The puppy’s just a baby. You have to be gentle.”

  His small pale fingers forming a cup for the tiny creature, Nick ignored his mother and made a beeline to Zachary. “It’s a girl dog,” he said. “Bitsy is the mom, and Booger is the dad. They had five babies. They drink milk right out of Bitsy, but it’s not chocolate, because she only makes dog milk. Phil said he’s going to sell the puppies for a hundred dollars each. Do you want to buy this one, Zachary? You could keep her forever. You could love her and hug her and give her a home just like my mommy gave me a home.”

  Zachary stiffened as Nick deposited the wriggling ball of fluff in his lap. He’d never had a dog of his own. There had been plenty of strays wandering around the trailer park where he’d grown up, but he’d never given them much attention. Most were dirty, hungry, flea-bitten. Some were downright dangerous, especially in packs.

  “It’s bad to take somebody away from their mommy and daddy,” Nick was saying as he snuggled onto the couch beside Zachary and the puppy. “But Phil says that’s how dogs are. You have to take the puppies away and sell them if you want to make any money off your ’vestment. What’s a ’vestment?”

  “It’s, uh …” He looked at Elizabeth. Her eyes had gone soft as she gazed at her son and the man beside him. “An investment is the money you pay for something. And if you’re good at business, you’ll earn back the money one day, plus a profit.”

  “Did my mom pay for me?” Nick focused on his mother. “Did you pay for me? Am I a ’vestment?”

  “No, sweetheart.” She knelt beside the couch on the green shag carpet. “You’re not an investment, and you’re not a dog either. You’re a boy. A very precious boy.”

  “Yes, I am.” Nick reached over and stroked the puppy’s head. “Aren’t you going to snuggle her, Zachary?”

  Feeling awkward, Zachary scooped up the tiny warm ball of fur and cradled the puppy in one palm. A life so small. Amazing. He touched the puppy’s little fuzzy ears and stroked his fingers down her back. She pushed against his thumb, seeking milk as she made small mewling noises.

  “You’re supposed to cuddle her like this,” Nick said, arranging the puppy so that she was tucked under Zachary’s chin. “That way she feels warm and safe. Puppies need to feel safe, because they’re scared without their mommies and daddies. You have to protect them, see? When I was a baby, I didn’t have a mommy or a daddy, but now I have a mommy. Are you going to be my daddy?”

  “Nikolai Hayes,” Elizabeth blurted out. “We talked about that already, and you know what I told you. Zachary has his own life, his own plans. You can be his friend, but you’re not to talk about his being your daddy anymore. Do you understand me, young man? You have a mommy, and that’s enough.”

  “It’s not enough,” Nick said, his little chin jutting out.

  “Yes, it is. Now take the puppy back to the garage.”

  “Zachary wants it. He wants the puppy, and he wants me!” Nick grabbed Zachary’s arm. “Don’t you, Zachary? Don’t you want me?”

  Wedged between the arm of the sofa and the little boy, Zachary lowered the puppy to his lap. Then he wrapped his arm around the child’s small shoulders. “You remember what you told me about surrendering, Nick?” he asked. “Remember how we’re supposed to surrender all to Jesus and let him be the leader?”

  Nick nodded, his cheek soft against Zachary’s arm. “That’s how you get the presents.”

  “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I decided it’s time for me to surrender. I have to be willing to give up trying to be in charge, and I need to let God be the boss of my life. You told me I ought to do that. Now I’m telling you the same thing.”

  “But I really want a daddy.”

  “There are lots of things I really want, too. Things I’ve wanted and worked for all my life. But I believe Jesus knows what I need better than I do. So I’m going to let him take over.”

  “When?”

  Zachary swallowed. “Well … soon.”

  “Well, when? You better do it right now before you forget.”

  Looking into Nick’s earnest green eyes, Zachary pulled him into the cradle of his arms. The puppy burrowed into the crevice between the man and the boy. Zachary nodded. “All right.”

  Turning his focus from small boys, tiny puppies, and the pretty Elizabeth Hayes, Zachary entered the presence of the Lord. “Father,” he prayed, “I surrender all control of my life to you. I trust you to guide me and to make your desires my desires. Lord, I believe. Please help my unbelief. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen,” Nick said. “Me, too, God. I’m going to surrender my wanting a daddy—”

  “What a pretty picture!” Pearlene turned and hollered over her shoulder as she returned from the kitchen. “Phil, you should just see these three in here. Four, counting the puppy. Turn off that ball game, and get your hide in here, would you? If that isn’t something, inviting people over and then gluing yourself to the TV. Next thing you know, he’ll be showing off his World Series baseball. I’ll swan.”

  In a moment, Phil Fox appeared in the living room. “Those Cardinals,” he said. “They’re at it again. Hey, Zachary, Liz, how are you folks? I couldn’t have been more surprised when Pearlene called me up this morning and told me she’d invited you all to dinner.”

  Zachary stood and shook the man’s hand. He had a feeling this whole scenario had been preplanned, but he didn’t want to dispute his host. If Zachary had meant his prayer moments before—and he had—he needed to find out what God had in mind for the property he’d inherited. And dinner conversation with Phil and Pearlene would help.

  “What are the Redbirds up to?” Zachary asked Phil.

  “They need pitching, as usual. I used to get over to St. Louis to watch a game or two every summer, but now that my boys are grown and gone it’s easier just to turn on the tube. Liz, did I ever show you my autographed ball from the ’64 World Series?”

  “Yes, Phil. I’ve seen it.” She smiled indulgently as he removed his prize from its place on the mantel. “Several times.”

  “Those were the days, yes sir. This here is my pride and joy.” He displayed the trophy, though not so closely as to tempt anyone to touch it. “Ever seen anything like it?”

  “It looks like a baseball to me,” Nick said.

  “This is more than a baseball, boy. It’s a relic of the glory days. A real treasure. I wouldn’t sell this ball for anything.” He gazed at the ball for a moment. “How about this, Zachary?”

  “That’s a valuable ball.”

  “You bet your bottom dollar.” He set the ball back on the mantel and turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Pearlene tells me you got a big contract to furnish some old houses in Jefferson City. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, Phil.”

  “Now, here’s to show you how little I know about interior design—but why would anybody want to go to all the trouble of modernizing some old buildings and then turn around and put antique furniture in them? It’d be like Pearlene going to the plastic surgeon and paying a small fortune for a face-lift and a tummy tuck, and then dressing in some old, wore-out getup her mama used to wear. Polyester double knit, you know what I mean? Seems to me if you’re going to go to the trouble and expense of fixing something up, you ought to outfit it in new duds.”

  “Are you saying I need plastic surgery, Phil Fox?” Pearlene said, setting her hands on her hips. “You always said you liked how I looked. Was that just for show?”

  “I’m not talking about you, Pearlene. I’m talking about those old, broken-down buildings in Jeff City.”

  “Broken down? Well, if you don’t like how I look, why don’t you just come right out and say so? Comparing
me to an old building, I’ll swan.” She gave him an icy stare before turning and heading into the dining room. “Come on, everybody, before the dinner gets cold. And Phil, put that puppy back in the garage before it wets all over somebody.”

  Zachary found himself seated across the table from Elizabeth. He quickly decided that watching her was going to be the best part of the evening. The food was delicious, of course. Hearty Midwestern pot roast sat in a pot filled with gravy, onions, potatoes, and carrots. Elizabeth’s layered salad and his fresh bread topped off the meal that concluded with bowls of hot peach cobbler swimming in melted vanilla ice cream.

  But if the food was nourishing, the conversation could have withered the hardiest vine. Pearlene, miffed over the imagined insult to her appearance, clammed up tight. Phil decided to offer a lengthy oration about the bus station he ran, lamenting the lack of passengers, the dwindling route system, the condition of the vehicles. Nick cut in on Phil’s monologue with his usual thousand and one questions, and Elizabeth was kept busy giving her son short, quick answers. Zachary was preoccupied, thinking about his surrender and what it would mean in his life.

  “But enough about all that,” Phil said, leaning back in his chair and displaying his ample girth. “I’m as full as a tick. Pearlene, that was delicious.”

  “I’m glad you appreciate something about me.”

  “Listen to her. Would you just listen to my wife? If she isn’t the prettiest gal this side of the Mississippi River, I don’t know who is. And the best cook, too.” Phil patted Pearlene’s hand. “So, Zachary, fill us in on some of the buildings you’ve designed. I hear tell you are quite the architect. Always in demand, they say.”

  Zachary laid his napkin beside the empty cobbler bowl. “I do commercial designs, mainly. Offices, stores, churches, that kind of thing. I’m working on a contract for a state office complex right now. It’s a big project.”

  “So, did you design any of the buildings we’d know about? Something we might could recognize?”

  “You’ve probably seen some of my work. I’ve been designing in Jefferson City for quite a while.”

  “I love the architecture in the capital,” Elizabeth said. “Strolling along High Street and looking into all the shop windows is one of my favorite things to do. The buildings are so quaint. They make me feel like I’m somewhere in Europe.”

  “It’s the German architecture,” Zachary said. “Although you’ll find some French influence, too—mansard roofs and iron railings.”

  She nodded. “What bothers me is when someone plops a modern monstrosity right down in the middle of all that history. I once saw a funeral home that looked like it had been built in the sixties—but when I looked closer, I saw that the newer facade had been constructed right over the lower level of an old Victorian home. The architect had left the second floor intact with all its old brick and gingerbread.”

  “Bizarre,” Zachary said.

  “Exactly. It’s like people have no problem with erecting some kind of an I. M. Pei or Frank Lloyd Wright type of structure on a block lined with turn-of-the-century town houses.”

  “Frank Lloyd Wright and I. M. Pei?” Zachary’s brows lifted. “You know your architects.”

  “Buildings are sort of a hobby with me. It’s hard to study antique furnishings without developing an interest in architecture. But there are times when I just want to gag. For instance, there’s a church near the center of downtown Jefferson City that is the absolute worst kind of aberration. Wright’s buildings fit with the landscape. This church is just jarring. It rises up like some kind of homage to Picasso, or something. The stained glass is thick and distorted. It looks like it came off the bottom of broken Coke bottles. The bell tower juts off at a weird angle. And what is that horrible copper thing on the front?”

  “That’s the awning,” Zachary said. “The church’s building committee asked for a facade that would work well with the slope of the hill, and the copper awning was the design they liked best.”

  Elizabeth’s lips parted in shock. Pearlene dropped her fork. Phil gawked at Zachary for a moment, and then he began to chuckle. “You designed that church?” he asked. “You drew the building Liz hates the most in all of Jeff City? Good gravy, Pearlene, did you hear that? While we’re at it, Zachary, how do you feel about antiques?”

  Zachary studied little Nick, who had paused in his last bite of cobbler and was clearly aware that something had gone wrong with the adult conversation. “I’ve never been much of an antiques collector,” Zachary acknowledged, hoping to calm Elizabeth’s fiery pink cheeks. “But I recently bought a white cabinet from Finders Keepers, and I think it’s about the best-looking thing in my kitchen. Great for holding my teacup collection.”

  “Teacup collection!” Phil gave a hoot of laughter. “You’re pulling my leg now, Zachary. What a kidder. I’ll tell you what; this discussion about old buildings brings me right to the topic of the evening—and that’s the Chalmers Mansion.”

  “Are you going to make Nick sit through this?” Pearlene asked.

  “Well, take the boy back out and show him the puppies again, if you want. The adults here have got business to discuss.”

  Zachary frowned as Pearlene and Nick rose from the table. Not only did he feel ambushed by Phil, but he was uncomfortable at the way Elizabeth was staring blankly at her dessert bowl, her cheeks still looking as hot as firecrackers. He had the strongest feeling that Miss Hayes was getting mad. And Nick had warned that when his mother got mad, she could yell. Though Zachary didn’t like the idea of Elizabeth’s anger turned on him, he decided it might be kind of interesting to watch—especially if Phil Fox were to take the brunt of her fiery spirit.

  “Now that charter I found in the city’s files is as good as gold,” Phil began, launching into what Zachary realized was the point of the whole evening’s gathering. “Zachary, your great-grandfather meant for that house he built to remain standing. You can’t get around it. In fact, Sawyer-the-lawyer tells me that only some kind of a heavy-duty motion approved by the city government can change a legal charter. And I’m here to tell you that’s not going to happen. You see, those councilmen tend to vote the way I tell them to.”

  “Is that right?” Zachary said.

  “Yes sir, it is. I may not be the mayor yet, but I have an awful lot of influence in this town. Fact is, whatever I say goes. Now, I don’t want to cause any more trouble than we’ve already had over this matter. But I’m going to have to tell you that Liz, here, informed me that you possess a letter from Grace Chalmers. Liz says the letter states as plain as the nose on my face that your aunt wanted to keep the house standing. Is that right?”

  “I have the letter here in my pocket.”

  “I thought you might. Now, Zachary, with all the evidence going against you, I’m sure you’re feeling mighty uncomfortable. You own a piece of property that is completely useless to you. Have you thought about that?”

  “Day and night,” Zachary said, waiting for the final ax to fall.

  “Well, I have too, and I think the best course you could take would be to figure out a way to sell off that old place before the city is forced to do something drastic.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well … like condemn it.”

  “You know what, Phil?” Elizabeth said, coming to life. She leaned across the table, her eyes fairly sparking blue flame. “Grace wrote that letter about me and about Zachary. It has nothing to do with you or the city council. The more I’ve thought about the letter, the more I’ve realized that Grace focused her whole life on people—not on buildings or town charters or city councils. She cared about Zachary, and she wanted him to have her house.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “No, you’re not. You don’t understand that it was not the house Grace wanted to save and protect. It was her nephew.” She threw her napkin onto the table. “You want Zachary to give up the house. You want him to turn over that property, don’t you?”

 
“Well, I … I don’t see what good the old house would do him.”

  “You’re going to prevent him from tearing it down, and you know good and well he can’t ever sell it because it would cost the buyer too much to repair. So it’s worthless to him.”

  “Yes, Elizabeth, that’s what I’m trying to tell him.”

  “And how much do you want to pay for it—a dollar?”

  “Now, Liz—”

  “Tell me if I’m wrong, Phil. You want Zachary to make the Chalmers House a generous transfer of property in exchange for a nominal sum. Isn’t that where this is going?”

  Phil shifted in his chair. “Actually, I was thinking about some sort of transaction along those lines. I mean, if Zachary can’t tear down the house and if he can’t sell the property, well, why not give such a valuable historic site to the city?”

  Elizabeth pushed back from the table and stood. “And what would you do with Chalmers House, Phil Fox?” Without waiting for a response, she turned to Zachary. “I may dislike your architecture, and I may fight you tooth and toenail to keep Grace’s house standing. But I’ll do all in my power to prevent the Ambleside city council from ever taking over Chalmers House. Excuse me, but I have to get Nick to bed.”

  Zachary let out a breath as she left the dining room in search of her son. “I don’t think she trusts you very much, Phil,” he said.

  “Aw, Liz is too uppity for her own britches. She can just take her opinions and stick ’em in her ear. What I want to know is what you think, Zachary. What’s your opinion on the whole deal?”

  Zachary stood. “Well,” he said, “what I think is that I don’t trust you any more than Elizabeth does. And if you’ll excuse me, I need to educate a certain young lady about the basic elements of high-class architecture in Jefferson City, Missouri.”

  TEN

  Elizabeth lifted the old black Bible and gave the counter a squirt of glass cleaner. As she wiped away the dust, she peered down at her own reflection. How could it be that she was still so young and vibrant—when Montgomery’s mother had only a week or two to live? Just this morning, the news had passed through town like wildfire. They were bringing Ellie Easton home to die.