On mention of Nick, Margaret’s eyebrows raised. “He’s seen these, has he?”
“He happened to drop by last night just as I was going to put my hand in this secret compartment I found.” Anna crossed to the fireplace. “I pulled out the pictures when he was still here.”
“Did he recognize anyone in particular?”
“No. At least not right away. But I have a feeling something crossed his mind. He concentrated on that same picture you have, and this woman.”
“He’s a good man,” Margaret mumbled, holding onto the picture.
Anna held her hand out for the photograph, unable to explain why she was reluctant to allow it to leave the safety of the walls where it had been hidden for many years.
They heard Herman calling for Margaret. “I’d better go and reassure the darling man you’re alive,” she said. “The heart thing scared him more than he lets on and we’ve been to so many funerals lately.”
“Tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes and he can see for himself I’m alive and well.”
“I’ll just tell him you might have some questions about John. That’ll take his mind off his worries.”
“I’m sure it isn’t anything sinister. We thought, first of all, it might be a hidden stash of money.”
“Some of these old places have dumbwaiters going down into a hole in the ground where they used to keep the butter and milk cool all summer long.” Margaret held the door until it slid into place rather than allow it to slam from the force of its hinges. “Thanks for showing me the pictures.”
Herman sat in the shade, his coffee mug steaming beside his elbow. “Morning Annie, or I should say, almost afternoon.”
She sat across from him. “Margaret told you I was caught up in an Internet search of John Good because of the photographs I discovered.”
“Before I think too much on this subject, I need you to tell me something. I’ll keep it between me and Margaret but it’s important.” He leaned forward.
“I’ll try.” Suddenly the breeze stilled and it seemed the squirrels stopped chattering in the trees.
“Do you know if you are biologically related to John Good?” He spoke quick and low.
She blew out a long-held breath. “I did not come to live here because of a biological connection to John Good.”
“That’s good. My friend John was quite a ladies’ man in the years before he got married and then again in his later years after his wife passed on.” Herman picked up his mug and relaxed in his chair.
The squirrels ran back to the feeder, and then scurried along the wires.
Anna tensed. “What do you mean?”
“In a small town, a widower is special. Widows started dropping off baked goods, soups, casseroles and so on. John always invited them in.” Herman sipped his coffee. “We call it the ‘casserole brigade.’ Some of the other single women, separated or even just unhappy, came over to talk with him. It’s rumored some of his children grew up here and in different towns, you know, because of the vacationers. But there is one for sure who is still here.”
“Wow.” She stared, open-mouthed. “Did he know about these children?”
Herman looked away.
“And you know, too?” Anna probed.
“I know some details but John swore me to silence.” Herman cast his eyes toward the tablecloth.
“I understand about keeping confidence, I won’t ask any more questions.” Anna stood. “I need to get to work. Today, I’m going to make my first cuts into that beautiful piece of wood George brought over.”
“Did you make any decisions about the estimates he gave you?”
“No, but I will.” She touched him on the shoulder on her way past him to the gate. “Come over later and see what I’m doing.”
Could this be her attraction to Nick? At least I haven’t baked for him yet.
Later, Anna looked at the plans and knew she had to make the first and hardest cut. Her client, Mr. Kindle had mailed her a copy of the original blueprints which Anna had reduced to a one-twelfth scale. He included digital photographs of the present décor and sent video clips of home movies. They’d chosen to decorate the house in Eighties’ style, when both of their children still were at home. Mrs. Kindle seemed most reluctant to leave this specific part of their family history.
Anna unfolded two sawhorses on the deck. She wrestled the large piece of wood and laid it flat for her measurements. With her straight edge and right angle ruler, she drew precise pencil marks to guide her. She donned her safety glasses, turned on her electric saw and made the first cut.
“What’s all that racket interrupting a man’s nap?”
Anna released the saw’s trigger. “I’m sorry, Herman. Is it too noisy? I never thought. The last time I did this, I worked indoors.”
“Nah, not really. I wondered why George brought this kind of wood.” He crossed over and stood scratching his whiskers.
“One of my mysteries is about to be revealed.”
“Let me guess. You’re building a new wardrobe for your Sunday clothes.”
“No.”
“A stool to reach into small enclosed spaces you might find.”
“No.”
“A lounge for the backyard to watch your garden grow.”
“No, but a good idea. However, the hardware store would deliver a ready-made faster than I could make it.”
“Okay, I give up.”
“I build miniature houses. Today is the first cut.”
“I’m impressed. I would not have guessed sawdust ran in your veins.” He ran his palm over the wood. “I used to do a fair bit of model building in my day. Maybe I can help you.”
“I’d love that. Let’s look at my plans.”
They walked past the dining room table, where the treasure stash of photographs was displayed, directly to the large country-style kitchen table she had placed in front of the window overlooking the lake. He examined the shelves with her imported dollhouse furniture, different grades of sand paper, samples of stain, and material. He was like a kid in a candy store, picking up and examining the tiny, unfinished cabinets and chairs.
He reached for photographs of the houses she’d completed to date. “You did these? I’m impressed.”
“Me, too. I started building to keep my mind occupied and it just grew. The one I am building now is my first commission. I’m a little nervous.”
Her work table looked like a mismatched lumber yard. Working with tiny things was a frustrating hobby. “While some hobbyists build fanciful houses, I create miniatures that reconnect with the past. This first house,” she tapped the first page in the album, “is a replica of my grandparents’ farmhouse where I spent all my early childhood Christmases. Working on the house gave Mom and me opportunities to recall memories, like the accidental bullet hole above the kitchen door her grandfather kept hidden for years.”
Anna’s fondest memories had happened in the dining room, where all of the chairs in the house were often filled with relatives crammed around a huge table for boisterous holiday meals.
“This one looks modern.” Herman held up the page with pictures of her dream home.
“It was a dream house, but that dream was just a dream. Here is where I live now.” She straightened. “I need to finish cutting. Do you want to wait in here or come out?”
“I’ll wait here.”
“There’s iced tea in the fridge.”
She needed a few minutes alone. Closing the summer door behind her, she pulled her safety glasses back into place and flipped the switch for the saw.
She came back in to check on Herman. “Everything okay?”
He was sitting at the dining room table surrounded by the photographs she’d found. “Sure, I was just thinking. I’d suggest you go to
the library and get a copy of the history book. I’d lend you our copy but the last time I lent it out we didn’t get it back without a lot of pestering. Margaret made me promise never to lend it again.”
“Not a problem. I’ll check out the library copy when I go downtown again.”
“Don’t forget it isn’t open all the time, like those big city places.”
“Thanks for the suggestion. If any of these faces start to ring a bell, will you let me know?”
“Of course, but one of the reasons I was coming over is that you and I are going to have a lot to occupy our minds, just like poor Nick.”
“Why? What happened?” She panicked. “Is it Molly? He told me about her porcupine attack.”
“No Molly’s just embarrassed. Something seems to be wrong with the water supply. People are complaining about an odor as well as getting stomach cramps.”
She looked at Herman with concern. He couldn’t afford any compromises to his health at this stage of his recuperation. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m good.”
“We’d better boil our water though, until the problem is under control.”
“You had something to do with health care, didn’t you? A nurse?”
“You got it, just not working in the field right now.”
“How come? They’re crying for nurses.”
“I needed a break from shift work at the hospital.” She pulled at her hair. “I wasn’t ready to go back when the opportunity to move here came up, so here I am.”
“You didn’t kill anyone?”
“No.” She could feel the blood drain from her face. I just couldn’t save one particular person.
Something like a beam of hope flashed across his face when he said, “Wait until Margaret hears I have my own professional right next door. She’ll be so happy. She might even go back to her weekly shopping days to the city with her girlfriends.”
Anna’s heart banged against her chest until she thought about the relief she could offer to Margaret and Herman. A sense of well-being swept over her. “I hate to ask, but would you tell Margaret to keep it under her hat until after I’ve finished this commission? I’m trying to decide if I’ll go back to that particular field of work. Remember, I haven’t worked for awhile.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike. I’ll ask Margaret, but I can’t guarantee anything. You know how small towns are and she does like to help her friends.”
“I’m beginning to find out.”
“Do you need a hand carrying the foundation of your house?”
“No thanks. I’m going to tip it against the wall. I’ll paint outside. Hauling rocks has made me strong.”
“Nick asked where you’ve been getting your rocks,” Herman said, his blue-veined hands gripping the door.
“Did you tell him?”
“No way! It’s too good a secret.” He ran his hand across the wood leaning against the wall. “I envy you, working with wood.”
“Wood, bones, skin, heart. It’s all a puzzle.” She felt lighter. Someone knew a little more about her.
“I suppose. But make a wrong cut with a piece of wood and nobody dies.”
“You’re right.”
They heard Margaret’s trill across the hedge. “Herman, where are you?”
“Oh, for a few hours of peace.” He rolled his eyes. “Coming.” He turned back to Anna. “Can I tell her this afternoon? Tuesdays they go to the city. A day away will do us both some good.”
“Just ask her to keep it close to her chest for a month or so.”
“I’ll try.”
Anna stood back and admired the treasured wood George had delivered days ago. She had cut the exact measurement for the walls and roof. She would paint them before putting them together.
Margaret’s fragmented conversation wafted over. “You poor girl. I’ll take care of you.”
Anna’s head jerked up when she heard a woof. She crept to the hedge and peered over to see Molly with the upside-down lamp shade on her head. The strange thing was, Molly didn’t look like a beast at all but like a dog needing a little sympathy. The poor thing. Anna went back to her work. The day was warm. She primed all the sections of wood.
While she rinsed out brushes, the aroma of cinnamon awakened her senses. It had been a long time since breakfast. “Margaret, something smells delicious,” she called to her neighbor. “What are you baking?”
“This is for you, Anna.” She held out a tray of cinnamon buns as large as dinner plates. “Herman told me about your past.”
After she put the tray on the picnic table, she wagged her finger at Anna. “You should have told me sooner. I would have slept at night.”
“Did he also tell you not to tell the world?”
“He did, and he also told me to go to the city on Tuesday.” She reached up to wipe a tear from her eye. “I’ve needed a new bra for so long. I’ll be happy to go if you’re sure it won’t be any trouble.”
“It’ll be fun. He’ll help with the furniture.”
“Remember, no heavy lifting.”
“He’ll manage this furniture. Don’t worry. Come on in. I’ll show you.” Once inside, Anna placed a chair in Margaret’s palm.
With a smile, she nodded. “Yes, he’ll manage.”
“I forgot to have lunch. Do you mind?” Anna brought out butter and cheese.
“No, dear. You go ahead. I have a patient I have to attend to at my house.”
“Is Herman all right?”
“No, not Herman. I have . . . Well, Nick asked. I couldn’t say no.”
“Oh, you mean Molly.” There, Anna did it. She called the dog by its innocent name.
“The poor dear. She’s trying to hide, but it’s hard with her big body and that collar, too.”
Anna felt her medical questions kick in. No. She had one patient—more than enough.
Chapter 8
Nick paced along the indoor-outdoor carpet in the town office, then turned to Janis. “You have to tell the mayor we need the boil water advisory. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Reginald hates to do anything that might spoil our tourism reputation, Nick,” she protested. “You know that.”
“I care about the town’s visitors, too. There has been a steady stream of cars down the highway to Regina’s ER, and Mrs. Lawson just went into the hospital by ambulance.”
“I’ll dial his number. You talk to him. I’m not getting yelled at again.”
“Never mind, I’ll drive over. He’s home?”
“That’s where he answered the phone when I called a few minutes ago to advise him on the latest events.”
“Call the senior home. Tell them now. I’ll be back for some notices to post and I’ll tell anyone I know. Would you call Herman and Margaret? We’ll need to get the word out as fast as possible and they have a strong network of friends and acquaintances.” Nick pushed open the heavy glass door. “Post it on our web page.”
“Yes, boss. You know the job posting is still open for a permanent position.”
“Dad’s supposed to be home in a few days and then I’m back to my other job.” He hesitated.
Janis jumped in with, “Saving a foreign country. What about saving our town?”
“That’s what I do. Protect someone, save something.” Nick took long strides to the municipal truck, climbed into the cab and put it in reverse. During his drive to Mayor Reginald’s house he inched over the speed limit.
The mayor opened the door on the first knock, full of bluff and bluster. “This isn’t Afghanistan, Nick. This is the middle of Saskatchewan, Canada. Nobody’s threatening our water supply. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“I know where I am, Reginald. There isn’t a logica
l explanation for the odor or the cloudiness. You have to issue the boil water advisory until the health department can get its results. I’ve put a call into them.”
“Listen here, Nick. You’ve overstepped your job description. That’s a council decision.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s my responsibility. I’m in charge. If you don’t like it, fire me right now. Even if you fired me, I’d still fight you on this. What do you think a death would do to your precious tourist destination?”
He looked around Reginald’s home. Alice, the peacekeeper in this family, paced in the background.
“We’ve got that new development’s open house this weekend. How do you think this will look to potential residents?” Reginald asked.
“Like their council cares and isn’t afraid to do something about it. I mean it, Reginald. If I leave here without your permission, I will go ahead without you on this. I will not be responsible if anyone else becomes ill. Have you seen the steady stream of cars going into the city? My phone has been ringing off the hook since early this morning when the first commuters were up and getting ready for work. And then Margie was on the phone, with her new twins who were crying in the background needing a bath, and she wasn’t sure she should even put them in the water.”
Alice moved forward and put her hand on Reginald’s sleeve. “You know you have to do this. Don’t make Nick leave yet. He’ll be gone soon as Jack returns. Then you can hire a ‘yes’ man if you like.”
Nick knew about good women behind men in power, but he hadn’t seen one in action before. “Thank you, Alice.”
Reginald spoke in his mayoralty voice. “I’ll confirm with the health department and call the radio stations. You put the notice on the Center Street sign. Tell Janis to print up the notices for the usual spots.”
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