The Sounds of Home

by Greenwood Muir, Diane

  "Oh," Simon said, nodding. "The thefts. Two of his employees and his uncle, Dick Mercer, right?"

  "Yeah. Henry's afraid he's the common point with all of them, though. The others were his clients."

  "Every one of them?"

  She nodded.

  "My goodness. That would be a heavy weight to carry. Please don't bother him with the chairs now. When he has time, I will still be here."

  "Can I help?" Jon asked.

  "We'll see," Polly said. "I'm not excited about letting the boys run around up in the attic yet, so I'd hoped to manage it while they were still in school. Speaking of, we need to hurry to Sycamore House before they get there."

  "I'm sorry to have kept you," Simon said. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Renaldi."

  "Jon, please. It was nice to meet you, as well."

  They walked further down the street. "He's a nice man," Jon said. "He reminds me of a kinder, more formal time. Does he always wear a suit coat?"

  "He does," Polly said with a smile. "Every day. He was dating Brad Anderson's mother-in-law until she broke it off with him a few weeks ago. It feels like everything in that family was turned upside down somehow. They’re building the house around the corner from our place, but Henry has only spoken with the wife, Lillybeth. And she's been off-again, on-again with the work schedule."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She's had Henry stop the work twice."

  "That usually signifies a money problem."

  "How do you know so much?" Polly asked.

  "I just pay attention. Is it on again or off again right now?"

  "Funny. We really don’t know for certain." She turned the corner to head south toward Sycamore House.

  "I can't believe you just walked away from the coffee shop," he said, pointing back at Sweet Beans. Then he shook his head. "It is so weird to walk these streets with you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Okay, I know that I've been here before. I've had coffee back there, eaten at Pizzazz and at the diner, but still, it's like being on the set of one of my favorite television shows. Mama has this little map that she's drawn of the town. She's marked where you live and where you work. When Ray and I got back to Boston after being here last summer, she sat down with us and made us describe everything we'd seen. She wanted every single detail. Sooner or later, it becomes more like a dream than reality because she talks about people I haven't met as if they exist. Much like she used to when she watched her stories."

  "Her stories?"

  He chuckled. "Soap operas. When All My Children and One Life to Live went off the air, I thought Mama was going to cry. I think she did cry. But then you moved to Bellingwood and real life became more interesting than the strange things that happened on her stories. At least you don't have brain transplants being performed here in town."

  "Brain transplants? I don't think that's a thing," Polly said with a laugh. "That’s right. Didn't Joey Tribbiani's character on Days of Our Lives have a transplant? And if you tell me you never watched Friends, I'll call you a liar. I know better."

  "Whatever. But he's Italian."

  "I see. So that makes it real."

  "I didn't say that. I was just making a statement." Jon put his hand out as Polly stepped onto the highway.

  "What?" she asked, pushing it away.

  "You didn't look both ways."

  "You either take the opportunity to cross when there isn't much traffic, or you stand here forever," she said. "I've been looking back and forth for the last thirty feet. Now, run!" Polly took off at a jog across the highway, but Jon got stopped waiting for more cars to go past. She stopped in front of the Sycamore House sign and stuck her tongue out.

  When he got across to her, he shook his head. "You let your kids walk across that highway by themselves?"

  "Noah and Elijah are very responsible. We have crossed this highway with them over and over, teaching them to be careful."

  "You were just nuts right there."

  Polly grinned and pointed at a woman coming up to the corner they'd just left. She was dressed in a jacket with a yellow reflective cross on the back and the front and carried a lawn chair, a red flag and a hand-held stop sign. "Oh yeah. And there's a crossing guard."

  He threw his head back and laughed. "You had me going."

  "We have practiced walking across this highway with the kids. I want them to be independent and not be afraid of things that we all learn to deal with. But yes, Cassidy and JaRon are still young. I'm okay with Noah and Elijah making this trip alone. Even Caleb on most days. If it weren't for the crossing guard, though, I'd be at the school building every afternoon to pick them up."

  "See, this is information that Mama needs. She worries about your children."

  "Of course she does."

  "But she would hate for you to think that she doesn't trust you to be a good mother, so don't ever tell her I said anything."

  "Jon Renaldi, there are so many things I could tell your mother that would get you into trouble. I haven't used any of them and this is pretty minor."

  He held the front door of Sycamore House open for her and they went in. Monday afternoons were generally quiet. After the last two weeks of noise and chaos, it felt empty today. Polly was surprised at how quickly she'd gotten used to the activity around here again.

  "Polly," Kristen called out as they went past the office.

  "Yeah. What's up."

  "You were gone forever. I took a couple of messages for you." She looked up and saw Jon. "Oh, hello. You're still here. Cool."

  Polly plucked two pieces of pink notepaper out of the holder at the corner of Kristen's desk. "Sorry we're late. Things kinda went crazy."

  "Crazy, dead body, crazy?"

  Jon laughed. "Is that the first question everyone asks you, Polly?"

  "The people who know me. Anything else, Kristen?"

  "Nah. It's been quiet. So, what happened? You have to tell me. You know the whole town will be calling tomorrow to get the scoop."

  "I'm surprised you haven't gotten calls already. The sheriff is investigating a possible counterfeiting operation at the old newspaper."

  "No way." Kristen's eyes grew big. "Wait. That's where you found that guy's body. Did he get killed by some mobster from out east or something? You know, printing money and then he decided to stop doing it, so they just killed him?"

  Polly shook her head and gave a strained laugh. "I have no idea. That's a good idea for a plot, though."

  "I watch way too much television. Do you think he was involved?"

  "I would say that if that's what is going on there, it's way too much of a coincidence for him not to have been involved. But it could be something totally different." She turned to see Jon shaking his head no at Kristen. "What?"

  He took his wallet out of his back pocket and plucked a twenty dollar bill out. Laying it on Kristen's desk, he said, "I'll bet you that Kristen's right. It's not something totally different. Come on. Put your money down."

  "I don't want to take that bet," Polly said.

  "Sure ya do. Chicken?"

  She swatted at him. "You are so different than Ray. He always treats me with respect."

  "He's so totally smitten with you," Jon said. "It's disgusting."

  She peered at him. "Say what?"

  "You heard me. You're like his perfect angel. You can never do anything wrong in his eyes. If he were straight, you'd never have had a chance. Not even Drea would have been able to keep him away from you. Good thing for all of us, that never happened. I don't like it when they fight."

  "You fight with your sister all the time."

  "So what?"

  Polly smiled. "Got it." She looked at the pink slips in her hand. "Annie Kaster? Who's that?"

  "She said you were looking for someone to clean your house. She had your name, but lost your phone number."

  "And Brent from Garris and Klein?"

  "Probably a salesman. I told him that you were busy, but he insisted that I give you h
is phone number. Said that it was important."

  "Bet me. Thank you. The kids will be here soon. Do not let them run around."

  "I like them," Kristen said. "Especially on Mondays. They have so much to tell me about their day. That little JaRon is my favorite. I want to squeeze his face. I could listen to him talk for hours."

  "JaRon?" Polly asked. "He talks that much?"

  "When he's in here with me, he goes a mile-a-minute. It's so adorable. He loves his teacher this year." Kristen opened her desk drawer and pulled out a couple of drawings. "He gave these to me last week. I don't have any magnets here and I keep forgetting to buy some so I can hang these on the cabinet."

  "JaRon?" Polly asked again. "My youngest boy?"

  "Yeah," Kristen said. "Why?"

  "Maybe it's because he's always with the others and they are so talkative, but he never goes on and on like that."

  Kristen shrugged. "I didn't know that."

  "If you can get him to jabber at you, you can keep him with you as long as you want," Polly said. "And I have plenty of magnets. Send him down to get some from me." She walked over and gave Kristen a hug. "Thank you for loving on my kid. That's awesome."

  "He's so easy-going. You have great kids."

  "Thank you." Polly pointed Jon toward the door. "We won't be here very long once the kids arrive today. Gotta make a fancy dinner tonight for my guest."

  Jon laughed. "That's right. I expect chateaubriand and soup laden with dujours."

  "Maybe hamburgers and corn on the cob," Polly said as they walked down the hall.

  "Good Iowa food, right?" he asked, holding the door to the addition open for her.

  "Man," Polly said. "A girl would forget how to open doors if she spent much time with polite boys like you."

  "Ahhh, you independent things spend so much time doing for yourself, we need to remind you that we're still necessary."

  "Did you really need to work this afternoon?" Polly asked. "I'm sorry if our distractions put you behind."

  "Spending time with you is better than anything else." He took out his phone. "I hate to ask, but can I take photographs of your office for Mama? She'd kill me if I forgot. As it is, I didn't take any while we were uptown. That's going to put me in the doghouse. Oh, and she says that you don't post nearly enough pictures of the places you go in Bellingwood. You haven't put a single picture of the bed and breakfast up yet. She's dying to see how it's all decorated."

  Polly shook her head. "I know she's right. I am not good at this social media propaganda stuff." She waved her hand around. "Take all the pictures you want."

  "Don't mind me, then. I'm about to get the best Sunday gravy dinner in the world with what I send her." He walked out of the office.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Upstairs to see Ms. Watson's paintings on the walls. I'll take pictures in your office when the kids are here. Imagine the dessert that will get me."

  She smiled as he left, then sat back down at her desk. They'd left things in a mess earlier and she couldn't bear to walk back into that in the morning. Taking out her phone, she looked at the message slip with Annie Kaster's name on it. No time like the present. She dialed.

  "Annie Kaster here. How may I help you?"

  "Hi, this is Polly Giller. You called my office earlier."

  "Yes. I lost the phone number that Loretta gave me, but then I remembered you owned Sycamore House. She said you were looking for someone to clean for you?"

  "I am."

  "My schedule is packed right now. I don’t have time for another client."

  "No problem," Polly said, scowling at her phone. "Loretta told me you had an opening."

  "Well, I did. But that was last week. You know, a girl can't sit around and wait for work. She's got to go out and make it rain. If I have another opening, I'll let you know. Even if I’m too busy, I didn't want you to think I was rude and wouldn't return phone calls."

  Polly gritted her teeth. "Thank you for that. I'll look elsewhere."

  "If I think of anyone else, maybe I’ll be able to tell Loretta and she can let you know."

  Her high-pitched happy voice was grating on Polly's nerves.

  "You know what. Don't worry about it. Thanks for the call." Polly swiped it closed and took a deep breath. She'd had so many retorts for the woman, but none of them would have been anything other than rude. She wasn’t even sure why the call annoyed her. If the woman didn’t have time, she didn’t have time.

  While she was annoyed, she might as well deal with another salesman. She placed the call to Brent from Garris and Klein.

  "Welcome to Garris and Klein. How may I direct your call?"

  "Is Brent available?"

  "He's in a meeting. May I have him return your call?"

  "This is Polly Giller returning his. I will be available for the next twenty minutes. Otherwise, he can call me tomorrow."

  "Thank you. I'll give him the message."

  Polly swiped that call closed, too. Weird afternoon.

  The outside door opened and the sound of kids laughing came down the hall to her office. Jon walked in with her five kids.

  "They found me. We're going for a walk around the building so I can take lots of pictures. Do you mind?"

  "You too, Cassidy?" Polly asked. She glanced at Jon for confirmation.

  "If she wants to."

  "I'll make sure she's okay," Noah said. "Did you know Uncle Jon was coming today?"

  Jon blinked at Polly and gulped at the implied relationship. She'd once said something about Ray and Jon being like her brothers, but didn't think the kids had picked up on it.

  "He surprised me too," she said smiling at Jon. He was still shaking his head in disbelief. "Go ahead. Take lots of pictures."

  Noah took Cassidy's hand and led her out of the office. Jon stopped in the doorway and turned back to Polly and clutched his heart. "Uncle Jon?" he mouthed.

  "I know. Made me cry."

  "Me too."

  They went out the door and headed for the barn. That would be the first place Noah wanted to show off. Before they got to the first gate, Cassidy was tugging at Jon's leg. He leaned over and picked her up.

  Polly's phone rang and she turned back to her desk. "Polly Giller here."

  "Ms. Giller, this is Brent Donsler. I called earlier."

  She took a long breath. "Yes. How can I help you?"

  "It's more about how I can help you. Do you have a few minutes?"

  "Mr. Donsler, if this is a sales call, I do not have time. I'm sorry. Whatever it is that you're selling, I'm not interested."

  "I'm contacting you today as Lillybeth Anderson's representative."

  Polly sat up. "Okay. Why?"

  "She would like to know if you would be interested in purchasing the property she owns directly adjacent to yours."

  "She wants to sell the two lots?"

  "Against my advice, she is willing to offer a greatly reduced price. She just wants out from under this."

  "I'm confused. She implied she’d start construction again soon."

  "Everything will come to a stop now."

  Polly took a deep breath, her mind reeling. They didn't have this kind of money. "How greatly reduced are we talking about?"

  "Are you interested in the discussion?"

  "I don't know. This is unexpected. I need to talk to my husband."

  "You have one week to make a decision, Ms. Giller. If you don't take us up on it, we'll put the property on the market. She wanted you to have the right of first refusal."

  "She doesn't even know me." Polly shook her head. "That's beside the point. Is there anything else?" She was so confused, she had no idea what to even say.

  "One week, Ms. Giller. You have my number."

  Polly stared at her phone after the call had ended. He hadn't given her a number. What in the world was going on with that family?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Endless stacks of hamburgers were piled on trays in front of Polly. It was a good thing h
er kids never tired of these things. Jon and the boys had already shucked three dozen ears of corn and she'd sliced potatoes for two large pans of cheesy scalloped potatoes. Rebecca should be home any minute to help her finish prepping for dinner. After dropping Kayla off at the hotel, she would drive over to Agnes Hill's and pick up Cassidy's friend for the evening. Polly was looking forward to having the older woman here. She was going to need extra hands tonight.

  Cat had come home from school feeling miserable. What a horrible time to be pregnant and not be telling people. A nasty cold had taken over her body and she couldn't use her normal cold medicines. She'd never experienced the opening days of the petri dish that was an elementary school. The poor girl would be in bed whenever she got the opportunity for the next few days.

  Hayden could take care of her. There was chicken soup in the freezer, tissues in the pantry, and anything else she might need was available somewhere in this big house. Polly had sent her upstairs as soon as she walked in the back door, with orders to not come down unless she felt it was absolutely necessary. If she needed or wanted something, she was to use her cell phone and the necessary items would be deposited outside her bathroom door. No one was going near that mess. Especially not Polly. If Cat was down, the last person who needed to get sick was Polly.

  She'd installed Jon in the office, with strict orders for the kids to not bother him while he worked. When Henry got home, he was going to teach Jon how to grill burgers and hot dogs. He'd laughed at Polly when she called to ask if he was up to giving a few lessons. He couldn't imagine that any red-blooded American male didn't know how to use a grill, but at least she'd given him notice so he would keep his comments to himself.

  Jon had been astounded that the kids wanted to spend time with him at Sycamore House. He'd been even more astounded when Cassidy reached out for him. Fortunately, for all involved, Cassidy had no idea what a monster she'd just created. Jon would move heaven and earth for that little girl, if only to have a few minutes of her undivided love and attention.

  The door opened and Polly looked up.

  "My lands," Agnes said. "Are you cooking hamburgers again? Where do you come up with all of this beef?"