by Becki Willis
Kenzie pouted prettily, her voice now thick with a honeyed accent. “I’m just so anxious to learn more about your charming little town. Are you sure we couldn’t get a teeny-tiny little glimpse of those old papers today?”
“I’m afraid not, miss.”
Sensing they were getting nowhere, Makenna smiled at the old man and tapped her sister on the arm. “We’ve taken up too much of his valuable time already. We’ll just come back tomorrow, like he suggested. What time do you open in the morning, sir?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“We’ll be here.”
As they left the newspaper office, the old man was already dialing the telephone. Makenna waited until they were out of earshot before she muttered, “I wonder what that was all about!”
“There’s something in those papers he doesn’t want us to see.”
“I get the distinct impression that no one in this town wants to talk about the past. Not about our past, anyway.”
“Maybe the Mafia threatened them into staying quiet. Isn’t that basically what happened with that professor and his uncle, the one you met the first time you were up here? The mafia scared them into silence. He warned you not to be poking around, asking questions,” Kenzie reminded her sister.
“Yes, but he said our family just disappeared into thin air.”
“Maybe everyone up here invented the story of a car wreck to keep people from looking for them. Us.”
“I have news for them. I’m not leaving without a few answers,” Makenna said with determination.
“So what did you find out at the courthouse? Were there tons of women named Hannah who got married in 1943?”
“Only four, actually. I also found one marriage with the last name of Hannah. Anne Cunningham married Aaron Hannah in November of ‘43.”
“It’s a possibility. And my middle name is Anne, with an ‘e’ at the end. How was hers spelled?”
“Same way. That’s an awfully common name, though.”
“But it’s more than we had when we started.”
Chapter Eighteen
At promptly eight fifteen the next morning, the sisters met with the frosty reserve of Clarice Canter. Instead of the man from yesterday, a woman sat behind the desk at the newspaper office, wearing a no-nonsense blue suit and a cool gleam in her eye. The bun atop her head was pulled so tight, it stretched the smile right off her face.
“I’m afraid those files are no longer here,” the woman informed them.
“I don’t understand,” Makenna said. “We were told yesterday that we could access the microfiche this morning.”
“Yes, well, you were told wrong. We have out-sourced those files to be computerized. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back at a later date.”
“How much later?”
“I imagine it could take some time to transfer such extensive work.”
“And when exactly did you ‘out-source’ these files?” Kenzie’s voice was as icy as the other woman’s was.
“I hardly see why that matter concerns you. All you need to know is that the files are no longer here.” The woman shuffled a stack of papers and pushed away from her desk. “Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Yes, I’m sure you have to practice your Miss Congeniality acceptance speech,” Kenzie said with false sweetness. With a toss of her head, she flounced out the door, not bothering to lower her voice as she seethed. “Can you believe that woman?”
“I bet those files were ‘out-sourced’ about fifteen minutes ago,” Makenna agreed. She blew out a frustrated sigh. “The cafe is right across the street. Let’s go grab a bite to eat and talk to this infamous Mel.”
The cafe was busy with breakfast customers, but Kenzie and Makenna found a booth alongside the front windows and slid in.
“Is it my imagination, or did everyone stare at us as we walked past?” Kenzie hissed across the table.
“They not only stared, they stopped talking. It’s a small town, but surely tourists aren’t that big of a topic!”
“Morning, ladies!” The waitress appeared with a big smile, a carafe of coffee, and two over-sized menus. “Coffee?”
“Please.” Makenna turned over the waiting mug and pushed it forward.
“Is Mel in?” Kenzie asked hopefully, glancing around in search of the cafe owner. She imagined him something like the character with the same name in the old television sitcom ‘Alice’, big and gruff and almost bald.
“Crazy thing,” the waitress said, expertly pouring two cups of the dark steaming brew. “Never missed a day of work in thirty-some-odd years, and called in sick this morning.”
Kenzie slid a suspicious glance at her sister. “Imagine that,” she murmured.
“Crazy, ain’t it? I’ll give you gals a few minutes to look over that menu and be back with you.”
The moment the waitress was gone, Kenzie all but snorted. “Seems like a pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?”
Makenna blew out a frustrated breath. “Something strange is going on here.”
They were almost through with breakfast when Makenna nudged her sister’s foot beneath the table. “Don’t look now, but there’s a woman to the left in the back corner. Nicely dressed, pretending to be reading a paper. She keeps watching us.”
“You mean like those three men over there? They’ve watched every move we’ve made.”
“At least they are being open about it. This woman is trying very hard to be covert.”
Kenzie allowed a solid ten seconds to settle between them.
“Oh, look at all those mugs.” She pretended sudden fascination with the shelf running along the perimeter of the building, lined with assorted mugs touting advertising slogans and tourist stops. She followed the shelf with her eyes, using the excuse to crane her neck and spot the woman in question. An opened newspaper hid the woman’s face, but Kenzie could see polished nails, the sparkle of several diamonds on her fingers, the arm of a beige linen designer jacket, and, if she was not mistaken, a pair of Prada low heeled pumps.
“I see her,” she said, turning back to her sister. “How long has she been there?”
“I’m not sure if she was there when we first sat down. I noticed her right after they brought our plates.”
“Hmmm. What’s she doing now?”
“Actually, it looks like she’s leaving.”
“See what kind of car she gets into.”
Makenna watched the woman’s progress toward the front door. “She looks like she’s probably in her early sixties. Expensive shoes, nice jacket over her skirt. Not too fancy, not too casual, but somehow very elegant.”
“Rich.” Kenzie surmised her status with one word.
“She’s out the door now and heading to that brown Ford. Oops, no, she’s going around the corner. And… I can’t see her anymore.”
“Let’s follow her!”
“We don’t have our check yet. And maybe I was wrong, maybe she was just being curious. Just like those guys over there.” Makenna offered a little wave to the three older men across the way. One of the men looked away guiltily, one waved back, and one continued to stare.
“You know what?” Kenzie murmured. “I’ve had enough!”
“Where are you going?” Makenna squeaked. She scrambled after her sister, who was marching over to the men at the other booth.
“Hello,” Kenzie said, using her trademark charming smile. “Excuse me. My name is Kenzie and this is Makenna. We’re trying to track down some of our family that used to live in the area and hoped you could help. Have you gentlemen lived here very long?”
“Clem and I grew up ‘round these parts,” one of the men volunteered. He motioned to the third man. “Jimmy grew up over in Lincoln.”
“Oh, good, so you’ve all been here about fifty years!” she beamed. If any of the men were a day under seventy, she would eat Jimmy’s tweed cap. “We don’t really know a lot about our family, but we recently found a family Bible that mentioned th
e last name of Hannah, from back in the ‘40’s.”
“Might be Aaron Hannah,” his friend mused, rubbing his beard. “He married round that time. Cute little gal from over in Vermont.”
“Yes, I believe that might have been the name. Do you know if they had children? Any family still living here?”
The man glanced at the door of the cafe and waved a crooked finger its way. “Well, as a matter of fact -” With a startled gasp, he cut his words off mid-sentence and grabbed for his shin. He glared at his friend and finished with a sullen, “- I don’t rightly recall.”
“Think they had five or six young’uns,” the first man said, ignoring his bearded friend’s angry glare. “But you know how families scatter through the years. Easy to lose track of such a big brood.”
“Oh, but we were so hoping to find some of our relatives!” Kenzie looked appropriately crest-fallen.
Makenna put in her own plea, puckering her face with sadness. “They had a granddaughter, I believe, with two little girls. We heard a tragic story about losing them all in a fire.”
“No, it was a car wreck,” the bearded man corrected her.
“Oh, so you do know them!”
“Well, er, I - uh- I didn’t know them myself, I just remember the story.”
“Do you know where they’re buried, by chance?” Kenzie asked.
The men looked at each other in confusion. “No, don’t reckon I do,” the first one said slowly. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice as he seemed to consider the fact for the first time. “Heard the wreck happened off somewheres, so guess they never brought their bodies back.”
“Didn’t get along with the family, after all,” his bearded friend supplied.
“Is there anything you can tell us about our family?” Makenna asked. The act fell away and she was completely sincere, her heart hanging on her sleeve.
The third man spoke for the first time. “You come from good stock. Can’t help if they married the wrong people.”
“Who-who married wrong?”
“The women. But the boys did well for themselves.”
“I don’t understand. Who is their daughter?”
“If I were you, Missy, I’d just take comfort in knowing you come from good stock.”
The men nodded in agreement and turned back to their plates, effectively ignoring the puzzled young women standing at their table.
Murmuring a meek ‘thank-you’, Makenna pulled her sister aside. After they paid and were on the sidewalk, she eyed the charming little town that suddenly did not seem so charming. “This is getting stranger by the moment,” Makenna said.
“I know. It’s like there’s some sort of taboo when it comes to our grandparents. No one will say a thing about our grandmother, not even her name.”
Makenna let out a deep breath. “At least if they tell us about our great grandparents, it’s a start.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Aaron Hannah?” the old man at the barbershop confirmed. “Salt of the earth, salt of the earth.”
“Does any of his family still live around here? His children or grandchildren?” Kenzie asked eagerly.
“Nah, nothing to keep ‘em here. Married people from the cities, moved away. One of the sons tried to take over the dairy farm, but it didn’t work out. Aaron had a knack for farming, but his sons weren’t bent that way.”
“What about his daughter?”
“Same thing, married and moved to the big city.”
“I heard something about a granddaughter who lived here back in the early ‘90s?”
The old man shook his head. “Darn shame what happened to that girl. Married wrong, but made the best of it, even after her father disowned her. Had those little girls, cute as buttons, they were. Whole family just disappeared into thin air.”
Kenzie frowned. “I heard they were killed in a car wreck.”
The old man shrugged. “Could have been. Maybe that’s why they just up and disappeared.” The bell jingled above the door, announcing a customer. The old man ambled to his feet as he greeted the newcomer and immediately fell into a lively conversation with the other man. He acknowledged Kenzie’s thanks with a wave of his hand, never missing a beat with the story he told.
Kenzie stepped out onto the sidewalk, pondering why the stories of their disappearance differed. Belatedly thinking about the rest of his story, the part about her grandfather disowning her mother, she turned to go back inside, but movement down the sidewalk caught her eye. The door of another shop opened and a low-heeled Prada pump disappeared inside.
***
Kenzie stepped into the clothes store, searching for the woman from the café. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior after being out in the bright sunshine.
“May I help you?” the saleswoman smiled from behind the counter.
“I’m just looking, thanks.” Kenzie gazed around the small shop, her eyes seeking out other shoppers.
She saw only three. Since she did not know what the woman from the café looked like, she would have to see her clothing to identify her.
Kenzie wound her way around a colorful display of crocheted summer tops, toward the woman with graying hair. Upon full inspection, she immediately ruled her out. Right age, wrong shoes.
She moved on to the next person, just visible over the top of a jewelry rack. Nope. Purple blouse and sandals. That left the woman browsing among the t-shirt display. Kenzie edged closer, disappointed to see a spaghetti strap top, shorts, and flip-flops.
Kenzie went back to the register. “Excuse me, did a woman just come in here, wearing a pair of lavender Prada shoes?”
The woman laughed at her inquiry. “Prada? Our best sellers are flip-flops and beaded jewelry. Our customers don’t wear Prada.”
She could have sworn…
“Thanks anyway,” Kenzie murmured.
***
“Why, yes, I recall them quite well,” a woman at the beauty parlor told Makenna with a friendly smile.
It was not a typical modern-day salon, with stylists and color specialists and all the latest in hair trends; this establishment catered to the mature woman, and had a faithful clientele who came to have their hair washed, curled, and styled each week. The acrid scent of permanent solution hung in the air, mixed with fruity hints of shampoo and the cloying fragrance of hair spray. Lots and lots of hair spray.
The smell burned her nose, but Makenna was willing to suffer if she gained new information. “Can you tell me anything about them?” she asked hopefully.
The full-figured woman motioned for Makenna to follow her as she returned to her client. An elderly woman, clearly in her eighties judging from all the wrinkles, waited patiently for the beautician to continue setting her thin white strands onto rollers. The beautician picked up where she left off, deftly working in the next roller before answering.
“My parents were friends with them. I believe my mother and Miss Anne were in the same garden club. My, oh my, did that woman have a gorgeous yard! She just had a way with flowers, you know what I mean?”
“I’m afraid I don’t share the same gene,” Makenna confessed.
“And you said she was your aunt?” The woman peered at her with sharp eyes.
It seemed the easiest tale, since she and Kenzie were supposedly killed in a car accident. “Yes, I think so. I’m trying to piece it all together. I only have an old Bible to go by.”
“You might be one of Anne’s sisters’ great-granddaughters. I think most of her people still live in Vermont, but there was one sister who lived over round Conway. She had a lovely yard, too. I went there one time with my mother to get some clippings off a gorgeous yellow rose bush she had.”
Makenna carefully pulled the conversation back on track. “Do you know where Anne lived, by chance?”
“Why of course. They had a lovely place between here and Sugar Hill. Aaron had a dairy farm.”
“Is it still there? Is the house still standing?”
; The woman’s face settled into hard lines. “It was until a couple of years ago. Then that power company came through, bought up all the land, and started putting in those horrible wind turbines.”
“NorthWind?”
“Better not say that name too loud around here, Missy. Most folks don’t care too much for them.” She gave a discreet nod to the elderly woman in her chair. Leaning down, she asked in a loud voice, “Miss Ethel, are you doing okay?”
“Fine, dear, fine. Did I hear you mention that god-awful power company?”
The beautician rolled her eyes. Out of the side of her mouth, she muttered to Makenna. “Can’t hear a train roll by, but she picks up that name every time.” Bending near her ear again, she patted the woman’s bony shoulders. “We said the wind seems to be out of the north today.”
“Oh. Just so we’re not talking ‘bout that power company that stole my Pappy’s land and put up those giant wires. Nothing ruins my day faster than hearing that name.”
Having heard similar sentiments the first time she was in New Hampshire, Makenna knew that most of the local people were against the power company’s expansion. She could only imagine their response when they learned that the company was originally part of the Modern Power conglomerate. Even though NorthWind was a legitimate company focused on green energy, the earth-friendly company would be sucked into the mess surrounding its parent company’s scam.
She sympathized with the people affected by the march of progress, but right now, she had other things on her mind. “Isn’t there anything you can tell me about my family?”
While Miss Ethel continued to rail against the electric company – the one she didn’t want to talk about – the beautician only half-listened, nodding when it seemed appropriate, even while she carried on a conversation with Makenna.
“Good people. One of their sons tried to make a go of the dairy when Aaron died, but he wasn’t meant to be a farmer. Ended up moving across the state line and selling insurance for his uncle’s company. One of the sons has a car dealership in Manchester, another one is a professor at Dartmouth. I don’t remember where the youngest son ended up.”