The two had dinner on the table when Henry and Heath came back into the dining room.
"We made a lot because Polly thought you would be really hungry," Rebecca said, putting the warmed tortillas between Henry and Heath. "And there's cake and ice cream, too. We waited for you on that."
"Thank you," Henry said. "This looks great." He pointed at the pile of books at the other end of the table. "You never told me what you're working on?"
"Look at this," Rebecca picked up her sketchbook, flipped through some pages and handed it to Henry.
"This looks like the Springer House without the solarium."
"We're not calling it that anymore," she said. "It's the Bell House."
He looked up at Polly, who nodded in agreement.
"I've learned so much in the last couple of days," Polly said. "It all started when Sal found this in the top of the corner kitchen cupboard while we were cleaning." She picked up the envelope, sat down beside him and pulled out the title and newspapers. "I couldn't figure out why they'd saved an old Chicago Tribune, but after spending time with it today, I discovered an ad in there for the Bell House in Bellingwood, Iowa." She flipped the Boone News-Republican over so he could see the article. "Did you know about this?"
He read and ate for a few minutes. Polly made another taco and put it on his plate. He picked it up and finished it while she made a third for him.
Henry chuckled. "What are you doing?"
"You were busy reading and eating. I was keeping the cycle going," she said.
"I'm not doing that for you," Rebecca said to Heath. "You're on your own."
With a mouth full of food, he nodded and tried to form a word, then looked guiltily at Polly and swallowed. "I got this. So what's that all about?"
"That old house used to be a fancy hotel," Rebecca said. "It was built by the son of Bellingwood's founder. You know, Bell? Bellingwood?"
"Who's the ing and the wood?" he asked and reached for the bowl of taco meat.
Polly picked it up and handed it to him. "I think the ‘wood’ is a man named Garwood. He was another one of the founding fathers." She tapped a black leather-bound book. "Beryl's ancestors were part of that group and then some other names that I don't recognize. I've been reading all about the early days, but nobody knew that the Springer House used to be a hotel."
She dug through the pile and pulled out a colorful booklet. "This was printed at the centennial and there's no mention of the place." Polly laughed. "Here's a picture of little Lydia at the centennial parade in her prairie bonnet. How cute is she?"
Henry flipped through some of the pages. "I've never seen this." He chuckled. "All of these people were just kids. Look," he said. "Here are the Gardner boys on a float for the bank."
"Will there be a parade this summer?" Rebecca asked.
"I'm sure there will," Polly said. "They're going to tie it all in with Bellingwood Days. Jeff says it's going to be a busy couple of weeks." She pointed at the date on the Boone newspaper. "Bell House was built in nineteen-sixteen. We're going to have to do something fun to celebrate its hundredth birthday."
Henry nodded.
"Maybe an open house so people can forget about it being haunted and think about it as part of the history of Bellingwood," she blurted out.
He nodded again as he filled another tortilla. Then he laughed and looked at her. "An open house? This summer?"
She giggled. "Maybe?"
He looked at Heath and Rebecca, then back to Polly. "You said that in front of them so I wouldn't react."
"Maybe?" Her eyes darted back and forth. "Am I dead?"
"No, not dead," he said with a laugh. "We'll talk about this later."
Rebecca said, "She's dead."
Henry pointed at the pile of books again. "What else did you find?"
"Well, I was looking for more pictures of the Bell House."
"And?"
"I didn't find anything other than what's in that newspaper. But I think the place was a huge failure. It was supposed to be a posh hotel for wealthy people who came out here for the railroad, but they were too far away from Boone. And then World War One started the next year and as far as I can tell, it just closed down."
"That's probably why it's not in the published history of the town," Henry said. "But still, it would have been interesting. Weird. Whatever happened to the young man who built it?"
"I haven't found that either. He was the last Bell to live in Bellingwood. The hotel closed and there's nothing about him leaving town or dying. He just disappeared."
Henry glanced over at Heath. "Oh no," he said. "It's a mystery. A hundred-year-old mystery, but if Polly finds old bones in the house, she'll find a way to solve it."
She swatted at him. "Stop it."
"He's not in the cemetery?" Henry asked. "There's a whole Bell plot there."
Polly took out another booklet. "Joss told me I could have all of this stuff for two days, so I'm desperately trying to absorb it all." She flipped through pages of photographs of gravestones. "Here they are. Hiram and Susanna. Then there is a Leona who lived for three years and a William who died in nineteen eighteen. Do you suppose he was killed in the war?"
Henry nodded. "Probably. What was the name of the son who built the house?"
"Franklin," she said. "And he's not in here anywhere."
"Have you found lists of Bellingwood residents who fought in the war?" Henry asked.
Polly slumped back in her chair. "Seriously? No. I didn't think it was that important."
He shrugged and laughed. "I just wondered. You were doing all of this work."
"Leave me alone." She sat forward and pointed at the article about Evaline Watson. "That was Beryl's aunt or something. She died in the sixties. Beryl remembers her."
"That makes sense," Henry said. "There would be a lot of people in town who knew folks that had lived during the early part of the century."
"It's weird to think of how much history has been lost," Polly said. "Someone knew what happened to Franklin Bell, but we don't even know who to ask or how to find out the information. He's just lost to us now."
"My great-grandfather fought in that war," Heath said quietly. "I never knew him, but Mom said he and his brother went together, and he was the only one who came back." He shook his head. "I'm glad I don't have to go fight in a war. It seems so stupid to get sent to a foreign country just so you can die."
"There were a lot of men and women who were proud to serve," Henry replied. "Their country called and they responded."
"That’s not what I meant," he said. "In the history books, it just didn't feel like they had a choice. They were drafted and had to go."
"There are still a lot of men around today who were drafted to serve in the Viet Nam war," Henry said. "They're proud, too. They did what they were called to do even when it cost them everything. And those men didn't get very much respect when they came back to the United States."
"I didn't mean anything," Heath said.
Henry patted his arm. "I know you didn't. Just be careful what you say in public." He smiled. "We all know that Eliseo sacrificed a lot in a war because his scars are all over his body. But there are other men and women in town with scars that are on the inside because of sacrifices they made. They're very proud of their service and we should always honor them."
"Yes sir," Heath replied. "I'm sorry."
Henry took Heath's arm and made him look up. "It's okay. This is a safe place. It's your home." He looked at Rebecca. "This is where you should learn about these things. I'm not upset with you. Okay?"
Rebecca nodded. "So..." She drew the word out. "Cake and ice cream?"
"That sounds perfect," Polly said, laughing. She got up, walked around the table and hugged Heath's shoulders. "Do you want another taco before I put things away?"
"I'm done," he said and handed her his plate.
Polly looked at Henry and he responded with a small nod.
"Rebecca," she said. "We're taking the dogs out f
or one last walk before we have ice cream. We'll let the boys have a few minutes for their dinners to settle."
"But," Rebecca started to protest, but looked at Polly's stern face. "Fine. I'll get my coat."
The dogs were more than ready for a trip outside and ran for the tree line as soon as Polly opened the door.
"Is Henry yelling at Heath?" Rebecca asked.
Polly drew Rebecca in for a hug. The cold and wind forced them to stay inside the garage. "Not at all. He's just going to try to fix it. Heath hasn't had anyone around to help him learn how to respond properly to the world. His aunt and uncle just let him exist and now that there are course corrections for his life, it's difficult. He's embarrassed and feels bad that he might have upset Henry. They need to work it out on their own."
"How did you guys get so smart about raising kids?"
"That's funny," Polly said. "We just want to treat you like we want to be treated. A lot of love, a whole lot of respect and then some more love."
The door opening behind her made both of them jump. Two dogs went hurtling past them and into the back yard.
"Hi Polly," Doug Randall said. He grinned when he saw Rebecca in front of her. "Hi there."
"Dog duty tonight?" Polly asked.
"Billy and Rachel are at some family thing of Rachel's in Boone." He laughed. "They had to get all dressed up and everything." Doug rubbed his hands together. "It's cold out here."
Rebecca pointed at the dogs. "And they love it. Look at them running in the snow."
"They're dogs," Polly said, pulling Rebecca in tighter to hold onto the girl’s extra body heat. "Where are you working now?" she asked Doug.
"Jerry has us on an apartment job in Ames. I can't believe how many are going up over there. Where do all these people come from?"
"I don't know," Polly said. "But Henry likes those jobs, too. They're good money and the work is straightforward."
"But it's cold in the winter," he said. "I heard you found another dead body last weekend. Anybody from around here?"
"Nah. From New Mexico," Polly replied. "But the last name was Carter. And that’s Beryl’s maiden name."
He rubbed his hands up and down his arms and jumped in place. "Do you think they’re related?"
"We don’t know. It was out on her property." Polly glanced at him. "Why aren't you wearing a heavier coat?"
"Because I wasn't going to come out and talk to anybody, I was just going to let them run and call them back in a few minutes." Doug edged his way back to the door up to his apartment.
"Go," Polly said. "You're freezing."
"I'll be right back." He ran to the door and was gone.
"He's funny," Rebecca said. "Is he ever going to get a girlfriend?"
Polly laughed. "I don't know. He must not be ready for one. Sometimes people take longer than others to decide they want to be in a relationship."
"Oh, I understand that," Rebecca said, her voice full of passion. "Relationships are hard work. He should wait as long as he wants."
"Trouble with Andrew?"
She sighed. "It was so much easier when we were just friends. He wants to sit with me at lunch all the time and the other day, he tried to hold my hand when we were walking home from school. I had stuff in my hands!"
"What did you say to him?"
"That I had stuff in my hands!"
"Maybe you should break up if it's that hard to be in a relationship."
Rebecca pulled away and turned on Polly, crossing her arms in front of her. "I don't want to break up with him," she said. "I like him. I just want him to be normal and not all this lovey dovey stuff. Why doesn't he get that?"
"Maybe he's just as confused as to why you aren't more like him." Polly reached for Rebecca and pulled her back in. She missed the warmth.
"I thought you'd be all against that lovey dovey stuff."
"Holding hands? Sitting beside each other at lunch? That's the fun stuff and it doesn't get you into trouble with me. If you and Andrew are going together, that's part of it. It isn't like I'm naive about being in junior high. I was there once, myself."
"Yeah, but that was decades ago," Rebecca said.
Polly started to protest and realized that at least two decades had passed. "Thanks. Now I feel really old."
"I'm getting cold."
"Obiwan! Han!" Polly called. "You do know that if we move into the Bell House, we'll have a fenced in back yard and can just let them go outside without watching them."
"That would be awesome," Rebecca said. "Obiwan! Han! Come here!"
The two dogs sauntered toward them, Doug's dogs not far behind. Big Jack ran up and nipped at Han's neck, barked and ran away. The two chased off toward the driveway.
"Hey!" Polly yelled.
Rebecca put her hands over her ears. "That was loud."
"Oops. Sorry." Polly stepped away from her out of the garage. "Han. Jack. Come." She clicked her teeth and Han stopped in his tracks. "Come," she said again. Han turned to the bigger dog and walked toward her.
"Sorry about that," Doug said. "I didn't mean to leave you. The phone rang."
"Anybody interesting?" Polly asked. She put her hand down to pat Han's head. "Good boy."
"Nah." He opened the door that led up to his apartment and his dogs shook themselves before going inside.
"You're not telling me what I want to know," Polly said with a grin. She opened the door to Sycamore House and Rebecca stepped inside, waiting for their dogs to follow.
Doug turned around and gave Polly an evil smile. "I guess I'm not."
He stepped inside his doorway and she put her hand out to catch him. "That's not fair," she said.
"Life's not fair." He laughed out loud and pulled the door shut.
Polly shut the garage door and then stepped into the main building. "He's a rotten, horrible person."
"Because you want to know something?"
"Yes. If you ever do that to me, I'll do cruel and despicable things back to you," Polly threatened.
Rebecca opened the door up to their apartment and the dogs ran up in front of them. "Oh I know. I know."
Henry and Heath were in the media room with the television on when they got upstairs.
"You took long enough," Henry said. "We almost had ice cream without you."
"That would have been a dreadful mistake," Polly said. "Heath, any homework?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. I did it all at school." When she looked at him, he put his hands up. "I swear. I did it all."
"Okay. Ice cream for you?"
"Yes please."
She looked at the kitchen. "Thanks for cleaning up, guys."
"We set up the bowls. All you have to do is scoop," Henry said.
Sure enough, four bowls were prepared with cake already in them.
"What are we watching?" Polly asked.
"Shannara Chronicles is just about on," Heath replied.
Polly grinned. She'd made such a big deal about watching the show when it started in January that they'd all sat down with her. When Heath expressed interest, she took the first book in Terry Brooks' series off the shelf and handed it to him. He found the next books on his own.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Living near a coffee shop was dangerous, but Polly could hardly keep herself away. What made it even worse was that it was just down the street from the elementary school. Dropping Rebecca off on cold days led to temptation and she generally caved in to it.
When she walked in, Polly was surprised to see Lydia at a table by herself.
"Good morning, dear," Lydia said.
"Good morning to you," Polly replied. "What are you doing here so early?"
"We have an emergency."
Polly chuckled. "An emergency that requires coffee?"
Lydia looked back toward the bakery. "No. Muffins. I'm waiting for the next batch to come out."
"What's the emergency?" Polly waved at Camille behind the counter. She and a new employee were waiting on several customers. Polly was in
no hurry.
"Beryl called in a complete panic an hour ago," Lydia said. "I didn't have time to bake, so Sylvie is taking care of us."
"What's wrong with Beryl?"
Lydia smiled. "Her brothers are at her house." She looked at her watch. "Just about now."
Polly sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Beryl Watson's brothers showed up at her house early in the morning. When did they tell her they were coming?"
"The poor girl got an email from Melvin. He and Harold needed to speak with her."
"At nine o'clock in the morning. It couldn't wait until later in the day," Polly said.
Lydia nodded. "The worst thing is that the email arrived at six o'clock this morning."
"At least they didn't show up on her doorstep with no notice."
"They knew what they were doing," Lydia said through gritted teeth. "Those boys have no respect for their sister."
Beryl rarely talked about her family and Polly had never met her brothers. It was hard to imagine that they didn't have anything to do with her. No, once Polly thought about it, that wasn't hard to imagine at all. Most people in Bellingwood didn't have much to do with Beryl. She was her own person and lived her own life, seemingly oblivious to what others thought.
"What are they like?" Polly blurted out.
"Melvin is just like his father. When he was younger, he drove a propane truck. Good honest work. He has two daughters who married men a lot like their daddy. I don't know what they do. Harold worked as a welder down in Boone until he had to stop. Then he went to work for the county roads department. I think he retired a couple of years ago. He and Pat had six kids and between them, they have at least twenty grandkids and there might even be a couple of great-grandkids by now."
"And Beryl isn't involved in any of their lives? None of them want to be associated with a famous artist?"
Lydia smiled a sad smile. "She tried when her nieces and nephews were young. She'd go to Christmas parties and attempted to go to their school events, but I think she embarrassed her brothers because she wasn't bland like they were." Lydia sniffed. "She even dressed down for them, but the poor woman doesn't own plain navy blue or brown anything. Then one day she realized that nobody had told her when school events were happening. She was invited to their weddings, but the kids didn't know her any longer. She'd never been allowed to be part of their lives once they were through elementary school. Beryl sent gifts - she still does. She goes to weddings and if there is a public event like a baptism at church or a graduation, she's always there."
Unexpected Riches (Bellingwood Book 13) Page 6