“Yeah, she’s got a bad cold, hopefully nothing worse. So our faithful Erin is coming in again after school.”
“Good. I’ll stop back later for coffee. You know, Cami, you may need to get more help for the next few weeks before Christmas.”
“We’ll see. Hold good thoughts for Emmy’s recovery.”
“Will do.”
After Mark left, I moved my stool closer to the computer, signed onto the Internet, and found the City of Brooks Landing, Minnesota, website. A minute later I was viewing Tuesday night’s council meeting, keeping the volume very low in case anyone, including Pinky, came into the shop. The chamber where the mayor and council members sat was arranged in a semicircle on a platform about a foot and a half higher than the rest of the room. Mayor Frost had the center seat, and the others, I noticed, were in alphabetical order, left to right: Harley Creighton, Rosalie Gorman, Wendell Lyon, and Gail Spindler. Frost sat between Gorman and Lyon.
The first part of the meeting was routine. And then the gloves came off, first over the microbrewery debate. A number of citizens took the podium to speak against it, and an equal number spoke in favor of it. Harley was very vocal, defending the opposing side. Wendell Lyon had been on the city council for some years and was the one who asked multiple questions, delving into the nuts and bolts of the owners’ business plan and why they believed they would be successful. That’s where Harley Creighton jumped in with, “They’ll be preying on the people who have no tolerance for alcohol by encouraging them to have this new experience.” To which Mayor Frost said, “Councilor Creighton, it’s not the only place in town that serves alcohol, for crying out loud.”
Creighton’s face was strained and red when he retorted, “Those other establishments were approved before I was elected to this council. And if I had my druthers, they’d all close up shop. Meanwhile, I won’t stand by and let another one open.”
Rosalie Gorman physically shifted away from Creighton and moved closer to Mayor Frost when she made the motion to approve. Creighton whispered something to her then she shook her head and said something back to him. I wished their microphones had picked up what they’d said.
Wendell Lyon seconded the motion. Creighton was the only member of the council who appeared to be against it, but when it came to a vote, Wendell Lyon voted with him. Three ayes, two nays. It passed. Harley Creighton didn’t try to hide his dismay when the microbrewery was approved. There was some disruption from the public, but Mayor Frost hammered his gavel and it quieted down.
The last item on the agenda was the proposal of annexing ninety acres from Chatsworth Township into the City of Brooks Landing for the children’s clothing factory. An attorney, Robert Harris, representing the owner of the company, showed a PowerPoint presentation touting all the benefits to the community. The company had looked at a number of areas around the state and decided that Brooks Landing was where they wanted to locate.
Wendell Lyon was again the chief questioner after the attorney representing Wonder Kids Clothes gave his report. When Lyon asked for the names of the owner or owners of the company, the attorney said they did not yet wish to be named in a public meeting because they were looking to incorporate, and also were working with banking institutions on the financing details. And there were other reasons he was not at liberty to disclose.
A supervisor from Chatsworth Township went to the podium and told the council that getting a letter telling the township what they were proposing to do was a heck of a way to find out about it. “I know it’s part of the orderly annexation agreement between us, but it would’ve been nice if you’d had the courtesy of paying us a visit, or at least calling us,” he said. He may not have been in favor of it, but he wasn’t overly upset by it, either.
There were members of the public who thought the factory would be a great thing, providing new jobs and opportunities for local people to work right in their own backyard. Not to mention the economic growth to the community.
Marvin Easterly and two men, possibly his cronies, took turns speaking against the proposed factory. Although Easterly was not alone in his opposition, he was the most vehement in expressing his resistance. “There is no reason that factory needs to go there. There’s land on the other side of town that would be better suited, if you ask me.”
The attorney answered him, “Sir, I can assure you my client approached a number of land owners who had property that was considered suitable for the factory building and campus.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. They’re not talking about a single building. It’s a whole damn campus that’ll cover up valuable farm land with concrete and asphalt.”
That’s when people on the opposite sides of the issues started shouting back and forth, and paid no attention to Mayor Frost’s plea for order. When Marvin Easterly and company, as well as the supporters in favor of the factory, were asked to leave the meeting by Assistant Chief Clint and Officer Mark, they were escorted out without further incident.
After things had quieted down, Lyon leaned forward and spoke slowly and deliberately to the attorney. “Mr. Harris, the people you’re representing are not here tonight. Is there any reason for this council to think that’s because they’re not disclosing something?”
“No, sir, there is not.”
But that wasn’t enough to convince Wendell Lyon. Or Harley Creighton. They voted against the project, and Mayor Frost, Rosalie Gorman, and Gail Spindler voted for it. Again, it was a 3–2 vote.
It took me a few hours to view the video because I’d put it on pause when customers were in the shop then resume it again when I was alone. I watched for anything telling in the body languages of the mayor and other council members during their verbal exchanges.
One thing I noticed that struck me as curious was that Rosalie Gorman sent Gail Spindler a dark look a number of times. And every time she did, Spindler would briefly return it with a nondescript glance of her own, and then cast her eyes downward like she was reading a document. It appeared they were upset with each other about something, but what?
The women voted the same way on the two major agenda items. Was Gorman silently putting pressure on Spindler to vote with her on the controversial issues? I’d heard that Spindler was a woman of few words, but she didn’t utter even a single one during the entire meeting outside of Aye. Even Gorman hadn’t contributed much of anything to the discussions. Everyone knew she liked to talk and was in no way shy about expressing her opinions. Something was going on between the two women, no question about it.
Gorman had been up in arms the next day when she’d tracked Frosty down at Brew Ha-Ha. Evidently, she was still not in a happy place by then. Was it a carryover from the meeting itself, or a different matter altogether? It seemed to me the disagreements between the council members inside their meeting chamber had spread outside of it also. Not a good thing. I’d been approached to consider a seat on the council so I needed to find out whether I’d be walking into a hornet’s nest.
12
The UPS man surprised me when he bounced in with a delivery around two o’clock. “Sorry,” he said, more hurried than ever. “I missed this one on my truck, or I would have dropped it off earlier.” He carried the box past me and set it on the counter.
“Not a problem,” I said as I signed for it, not even looking to see who it was from. I was swamped with shoppers. Plus Pinky had a line at her counter and neither of us was able to help the other.
Mark was right: We’d probably need to hire an additional worker for the last weeks before Christmas, especially if Emmy wasn’t back soon, or was unable to put in as many hours. Nicoline came into the shop right when I was in the thick of things. After her abrupt exit that morning I wondered if I’d see her again.
She apparently felt the need to help me because she slipped off her jacket and laid it on the floor against the wall by the checkout counter. But she left her cap on. Then she set
about straightening the shelves where people had set snow globes and other items in no particular order after they’d looked at them. That was another surprise. I watched her for a moment here and there as I waited on customers, admiring her naturally artistic decorating talent.
I’d thought the window display my parents and I had put together was well-done, but it was evident Nicoline could likely turn it into something more imaginative, more magical. For some reason, it triggered an old memory. I thought about the time I’d brought Almond Joy bars to a gathering. They were luscious and gooey, but didn’t look nearly as special as they tasted. When I set my plate down next to the others, all the other treats looked like they had been created by a professional baker or cake decorator. I’d never seen such a variety of beautiful confections on a sweets table. They all had added touches that made their goods look more tempting and perhaps even better than they actually tasted.
That’s the memory that watching Nicoline stirred up. She knew how to take a display that looked perfectly fine to me, and probably to the majority of people, and turn it into something exceptional. She had that eye, the ability to arrange the various items that both set them apart and blended them together at the same time. I didn’t know we were missing that at Curio Finds. When I had the opportunity, I went over to her. She gave me a shy smile, and quietly said, “I hope you do not think I am too bold. But you were with so many people and I saw how they were setting the items in places they did not belong.”
“Not at all. I appreciate what you’ve done, and I’m impressed with how nice you’re making the shelves look. It’s like seeing a masterpiece painting before and after it’s been cleaned and restored.” I thought she’d be a great asset to our shop, and I’d consult with Pinky about it when things slowed down. “Nicoline, if you’re interested in some part-time work for the next few weeks, maybe longer, we could really use your help. We hired two women last month, but lost one after the first day. And our other helper hasn’t been able to work the last couple of days.”
“Oh. Well, I would be happy to help you out. I believe that will be fine, but I will need to check first with my uncle.” Was he the one who had hurt her?
“Sure. The pay might not be what you’re used to, but it’s not bad.”
“I will be happy with whatever it is.”
“I’ll get an application printed for you to fill out. Just basic information, nothing too extensive like some places require for employment.”
“That will be fine. I have not been in your city long and have not worked here. I was a nanny in Boston for a few years.”
“What brought you from Boston to Brooks Landing?”
“My uncle needed my help.”
A group of shoppers came through the front door and ended our conversation. But Nicoline stayed, moving among the shelves of merchandise, looking at what we had and rearranging things as she did. When there was a little break in the action I told her I’d be back in a few minutes and went next door to let Pinky know I’d offered Nicoline a job.
Her head moved inward and outward, stretched as far as her long neck would allow. “Cami, you don’t even know her,” she said in a stage whisper that could no doubt be heard a block away.
I lowered my own voice. “I know she’s got a great eye for decorating and arranging shelves and that she moved here to help her uncle, after working as a nanny. Both those things mean she cares about people. We’ll get her to fill out an application, and I’ll check her references.” Then I mouthed the next words. “And I’m concerned about her and want to find out what’s really going on in her life.”
Even if I’d known how everything would eventually shake down, I would still have felt the same way.
Pinky put her hands on my shoulders, leaned over, and briefly touched the top of my head with her forehead. Then she pulled back, looked at me, and nodded. “Okay. You’ve even got me worried about her,” she mouthed in kind.
I went back to Curio Finds and spotted Nicoline rearranging another shelf. I was about to print an application form when a middle-aged couple came in. They were looking for a gift for their granddaughter to add to her snow globe collection.
Nicoline’s face brightened as she picked one up and carried it to them. “This one is special. When you turn it on it lights up, and the colors change from red to blue to white to green to pink, and all the while the snow is moving around inside of it. Sometimes the snow swirls quickly and sometimes more slowly, gently.” She flipped the switch on and handed it to the woman.
“What a sweet thing you are. And what a cute touch—you wearing an earflap beanie to sell snow globes. It gets people in the mood to buy them,” she said and when she smiled, a score of fine wrinkles deepened on her face.
Nicoline responded with a smile of her own. I was pleased the woman had added a positive spin on why she thought Nicoline was wearing the cap.
The man put an arm around his wife and leaned in for a closer look. “Well, sweetie, I think this snow globe is just the ticket for Jenny.”
The woman nodded. “I think so, too.” She handed it back to Nicoline. “Will you gift wrap this up for us, please?”
“Certainly,” I said when Nicoline looked to me for the answer.
I took the snow globe over and when I carried it to the counter I nearly tripped on the box the UPS man had delivered. I pointed to it. “Nicoline, would you mind putting that in the storeroom? It’s just back there. Thank you.” I pointed at the door.
She nodded, picked it up and carried it to the room. When she returned she had a troubled look on her face, making me wonder if she was worried about her uncle, or about the prospect of working at Curio Finds, or just plain thought the storeroom needed organizing.
I found a gift box and had the snow globe wrapped for the couple in no time. They paid and left in high spirits knowing they’d found a unique gift for their granddaughter, one she would love.
“Would you like to open the box I put in the storeroom?” Nicoline said.
“No, I’ll do that later, after I catch up a little.”
“I will help you if you like.” It seemed she was itching to get more merchandise out on the shelves so she could add to the displays.
“That’s okay. For one thing, I want to get that job application ready for you.” She waited as I went online, found the same template we’d used for Emmy, and then printed a copy. “Here you go.”
Nicoline took it from me and looked it over. “I will fill this out and return it to you. Is tomorrow all right?”
“Sure thing. I know tomorrow is Saturday, but if you don’t have other plans, it’d be great if you’d be able to work for a few hours.”
She nodded. “I have no plans so I will be happy to do that.”
“Good. Is nine o’clock an okay time? Hopefully we’ll be able to get some training in before it gets too crazy.”
“I will see you then. Would you like me to do anything else before I leave?”
I shook my head. “You’ve helped out a lot already. See you tomorrow.”
As I watched her put on her coat and head out the door, I felt optimistic I’d learn a lot more about her in the coming weeks. Pinky came into my shop a minute later looking like she was all done in. “Holy moly, Cami. This is the busiest day we’ve had all week.”
“I think so, too. And our cash registers should back that up. When Erin gets here, you should take off.”
She glanced around the shop. “Nicoline gone?”
“Yes, she left a few minutes ago. I’ll say this about her: She certainly is ready and willing to pitch in.”
“And she certainly is strange.”
“Pinky—”
“Well, she is. But you’re right about her artsy eye. I thought the shelves looked good before but they look even classier now. Maybe she can help me figure out something cooler to do with my muffin and scone displays.”
“I don’t think you need help with that. They sell fast enough as it is.”
She chuckled then stretched her arms halfway to the ceiling. “You’ve got that right. I’ve been making oodles and oodles of extras and I still can’t keep up.”
The bell on Brew Ha-Ha’s door dinged. “Oh, Lordy,” Pinky said.
I slid off my stool. “You sit, I’ll go.” But Pinky followed me instead, and when we saw it was Erin, she said, “Yay, saved by the bell.”
“Literally,” I said.
Erin grinned from ear to ear, and she wasn’t the only one smiling. We all were.
“Erin, you look like you won a trip to the Bahamas,” I said.
“Not quite. It’s that feeling I get—and have since I was a kid—on Fridays after school lets out. TGIF.”
“Golly, I can remember how that felt,” I said.
“Yeah, the good old days,” Pinky said.
Erin pulled a snow globe out of her bag. “Here’s a sample of the big art project we made this week.”
Pinky and I took turns holding and admiring it. It was a simple scene of two deer standing by a group of pine trees.
“Very nice, Erin. And the snow is grated Styrofoam?” I said.
“Yes. It worked pretty well. The kids had the best time figuring out their scenes. And with me and two volunteers operating the hot glue guns, none of them got burned.”
Pinky handed the snow globe back to Erin. “I swear you could open up your own craft shop. It’s really nice.”
Erin put the globe back in her bag. “Maybe after I retire from teaching.”
I gave Pinky’s arm a pat. “You get out of here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Do something fun or go home and relax for once.”
“Is that okay with you, Erin?” she said.
“Of course it is. And after we close up shop, how about I pick up some supper and bring it over? Tell me what you’re hungry for.”
Frosty the Dead Man (A Snow Globe Shop Mystery) Page 13