“I don’t know. We can try several of them.”
“What about Jean’s school?”
“I doubt they’ll turn on the lights and heat two extra days a month for free,” Arianna said.
“We should ask Muzzy. She’ll know where we should start.
“Town hall?”
“Again, heat and lights. Unless it was during normal hours.”
Arianna frowned. “Normal hours are busy hours. I was hoping we could do it on Saturday afternoons, maybe into the evening.”
“Knowing you, a band will show up and it will turn into a party,” Ava said, gazing out the window.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” she asked defensively. “Who couldn’t use some fun in these dreary times.”
Arianna pulled up in front of The Rockport Review at a bad angle. The back end hung out into the street.
“Is Muzzy still at work?” Arianna asked, trying to see through the glare on the window.
“Muzzy is always at work,” Ava said, getting out of the car.
“I’ve wondered about that…does she even have a home?”
“I haven’t asked. I wouldn’t be surprised if she lived here though.”
“Well, I haven’t seen a bed in the back room.”
“With as much coffee as she drinks, I doubt she needs one,” Ava said, grinning and pulled open the door.
Muzzy was at her desk reading and Ava noticed immediately that her head didn’t pop up with the usual animated greeting. She slumped with her chin in her hand, staring at a letter.
“Everything okay, Muzzy?”
She sat back and her chair made a loud squeak. “No, not really.”
“Anything we can help with?” Arianna asked, sitting down and crossing her legs.
Ava noticed the mural on the wall, nudged Arianna and pointed. “Claire,” she said under her breath.
“Very nice. A winter market would be the perfect place for her to sell some of her paintings,” Arianna replied in a hushed voice.
“A winter market?” Muzzy asked, sipping her coffee. Her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. Even her hair looked subdued today.
“A pet project of ours. Tell us about your problem,” Ava said.
Muzzy tossed the letter in the middle of the desk. “I was just asked to provide a reoccurring advertising spot for Lucky Strike cigarettes in the paper.”
“Well, that’s great!” Arianna said.
“It would be great, only there’s a lot of money involved. The marketing director wants to meet with the owner of the Rockport Review in Boston to go over details.”
Ava sat back slowly, biting her lip. “And…you’re the owner and they can’t know that,” she said slowly.
“Exactly.” Muzzy set her mug down with a thump.
Arianna reached out and put her hand on the desk. “What if Jon pretended to be the owner,” she said, glancing at Ava. “He could go and pretend to be Mr. Brown. He has a suit and, well, you know the way Jon carries himself. No one would ever guess he wasn’t the owner of a successful paper.”
“It’s a paper with growing success, not yet a successful paper. I actually thought about asking him, or someone, but there is so much to know about running a paper. I know they are going to ask him questions he won’t know the answers to. And there isn’t enough time for him to memorize everything.”
“Business is business. I’m sure Jon could dance around any questions that were thrown at him.”
“What if he’s asked what weight broadsheet I use? Or where I order my ink? Or the model of my printing press? Or circulation numbers, delivery boys and print deadlines?” Muzzy asked.
Arianna sat back. “I see your point.”
“Only someone in the industry could go for me because they are the only ones who would know these things.” She blew out her breath and her bangs puffed up, then fell. “I’m going to have to turn them down. That money could have really helped keep me going.”
Ava sat chewing her thumb, thinking.
“Don’t turn them down just yet, Muzzy. We’ll think of something,” Arianna said.
“Do you need a delivery boy?” Ava asked, tilting her head.
“Like I need coffee. I’ve been doing it on my motor bike early in the morning before I start work two days a week. Problem is, no one will work for as little as I could pay them.”
“Jean would. He could deliver them before school. And whatever you could pay him would be like a windfall to a child. Would you like me to ask him?”
“In order to pay him anything, I need to get this account with Lucky Strike,” she said, slumping.
“Let me talk to Jon. He might know someone or have some ideas.”
“Isn’t Jon a bit preoccupied right now?” Arianna asked out of the corner of her mouth.
“This might help take his mind off his problems for a moment.”
Muzzy sat forward slowly, daring to get excited. “Jon is real smart when it comes to this kind of thing. It might help him and me. I know when I get stumped and I walk away for a while, an idea hits me, bam, out of nowhere. Usually when I go to the bathroom.” She flashed a lopsided grin.
“Well, we can hope,” Ava said. “I know Jon will at least have an idea or two for you to work with.”
“Now, tell me about your pet project. Maybe I can help with that,” Muzzy said.
“Jon gave Ava the idea to start a winter market. You know, to sell things. There isn’t one now and we could all use some extra money. We’re looking for a place that would be willing to host it…” She grimaced. “for free.”
“Hmm. A winter market. I like that idea. Why don’t you start with town hall? I know they let the Red Cross set up there occasionally. I just did an article on it. And they host the annual artist’s ball.”
“We thought of town hall, and churches, but hoped you’d have some other ideas.”
Muzzy scrunched up her face, thinking. “Why not hold it in your barn? It’s out of the way, but I could run an ad.”
“No, it’s not heated and Caleb already has plans to stuff it chock full of animals. Any other ideas?”
“I don’t know of anywhere that’s big enough that you wouldn’t have to pay them something for the trouble. What about charging for each space? Like a vendor fee?”
“None of us can afford that. We want as many people to join in as possible and if there’s a fee, that will keep people away.”
“Well, use that angle with town hall. The economic development angle. They’d have to cheer on an effort like that. But if town hall doesn’t work, try the new Episcopalian church. I just interviewed the pastor and he’s real anxious to increase membership. He might be willing to do it, even just temporarily, until you could show that it’s doing the community good and you find another space.”
“Thanks, Muzzy, those are great ideas,” Ava said, standing. “I’ll let you know what Jon says—” She held up a finger. “And what Jean says about delivering for you. I have a feeling you’ll get that account.”
Muzzy held up her crossed fingers. “You know where to find me.”
When they got to the door Arianna stopped. “I have a question, Muzzy. Where do you sleep?”
Muzzy cocked her head. “Sleep?”
***
“Are you sure this is the right person to talk to?” Arianna asked, glancing around.
“This is where the receptionist told us to go, so it has to be.”
They stood outside the office door of the clerk treasurer, rehearsing in a whisper what they would say. After rewording several times, they knocked and after a moment, a man stepped out, looking delighted to see them.
“How can I help you lovely ladies today?” he asked, straightening his suit jacket.
“We understand that town hall allows the use of the building for community functions,” Arianna said.
“On occasion, yes. What charity or organization do you represent?”
“We’re not a charity and there’s no official organization. We
have an idea to provide an economic boost to Rockport with a winter market.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding. “How many participants are you expecting?” he asked.
“We aren’t sure,” Ava said, tossing Arianna a nervous look. “But once word gets out about it, I’m sure we’d be near to bursting. Which is why we’d like to find a big space.”
“I can get you a request form to fill out with the available times and fee for using the building. That way you can adjust the entrance and vendor fees to cover the cost.”
“Oh, we don’t think anything should be charged. It would discourage people.”
“Well, there’s a fee if you are using the town’s resources.”
“The idea is for the vendors to benefit. I don’t suppose town hall would consider donating the use of the space? It would just be two days a month,” Arianna said, putting on her sweetest smile.
“I’m afraid we can’t just allow town property to be used free of charge or every outfit and organization will expect the same courtesy.”
Arianna folded her arms. “Do you charge the Red Cross?” she asked.
“No, but that’s different,” he said. “They are a legitimate charitable organization. What you’re trying to organize is a community trinket sale.”
“No, that’s not what we’re doing,” Ava said with strained patience, clasping her hands. “There are a lot of things the community could bring to a winter market other than trinkets. Homemade clothes, candles, soap, home decorations, baked goods.”
He closed his eyes with a shake of his head. He lowered his voice and spoke as a parent would when trying to get a simple idea across to a stubborn child.
“Those are things of little value and most people already make those things themselves. What people want and need are fish, a bit of meat, vegetables and flour. Life sustaining goods, not handycraft frivolities.”
Arianna pursed her lips. One eyebrow shot up. “And who’s to say that life sustaining goods couldn’t be traded for our…frivolities?”
“What folks have gathered in, they’ll need for the winter.” He laughed and it bristled both women. “No one is going to trade potatoes for a lace hanky. It’s a delightful idea but inherently female. And by that I mean impractical. If you can’t pay the fee for the use of the building, I’m sorry. You’ll have to look elsewhere.” He turned away, shaking his head.
Arianna glared at the back of his head.
“We should have brought Maura,” Ava said.
“Come on, let’s try the church,” Arianna said as they turned to walk away.
***
Aryl stepped into the wheelhouse, closed the door, threw his back against the wall and glared at Jonathan. “I want Caleb back,” he said.
“I do, too, but Caleb’s not coming back.”
“This guy knows nothing about fishing,” Aryl said thumbing over his shoulder. “Where’d you find him anyway?”
“He just got into town. Lost his job in Boston and heard there were jobs here in the quarry.”
“You should have let him keep walking,” Aryl said, adjusting the bib of his overalls.
“He’s not working out?” Jonathan asked, glancing from the chart to the horizon.
“No, he’s not. You know what he told me? He’s never even been on a boat. Did he tell you that? Or did you just see a warm body and drag him to the marina?”
“Your job is to teach him, Aryl,” Jonathan said, glancing over his shoulder.
“I agreed to teach someone how we do things. Someone that already had a vague idea of how this works. I can’t teach someone who’s never even set foot on a boat.”
“Not true,” Jonathan said, lifting his chin. “You taught Caleb and I, We were just as clueless as our new hire.”
“It’s not just that,” Aryl said, dropping his hands to his side. “This guy is slow. He stops to think about every little thing and forgets half of what I tell him. I think Jean could work harder and faster than he does.”
Jonathan turned around. Aryl expected him to look this way. Like someone who really didn’t want to hear that there was another problem or delay.
“What do you suggest we do?” he asked.
“Let him go. Let’s find someone else.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know, but until then we can work together.”
Jonathan rolled his head.
“I’m sorry, Jon, but your idea to have us split up is just going to have to wait until we find good people and get them trained.”
Not seeing any way to rebut that, Jonathan nodded, as unhappy as he was, and turned back to the wheel.
***
Jonathan was dressed well in a fresh pressed suit. He opened the car door and Muzzy slipped in.
“I really appreciate you doing this, Jon,” she said from behind her scarf. “I feel terrible for you taking a day off work for this.”
It stressed him to do so, but being presented with Muzzy’s problem, which had a relatively simple solution, he was happy to help. The drive to Boston might help clear his mind enough to find his own solutions.
“Ian and Aryl are out there keeping things going. Besides, I owe you a favor. Remember the whole mess with the taxes recently?”
“Well, that wasn’t all me. In fact, it was hardly me at all. The new sheriff found the papers and Harold is the one who verified them.”
Jonathan smiled. “Yes, but you gave me the good news that I wasn’t going to lose my house. So, I choose to give you the credit.” He closed her door and walked around the front. They were both bundled up in hats, scarves and many layers. The Tourer Jonathan inherited when his father died offered no protection from the elements besides the tattered canvas top and small windshield. It would be a cold drive to Boston.
“Do you really think this will work?” Muzzy asked. She wanted to be hopeful, but skepticism ran deep.
“I do. I know how men like this think. As ridiculous as it is, we have to play their game. If you are there pretending to be Mr. Brown’s assistant you can have all the information they need to know at the ready. I’ll be there as not only a personal friend of Mr. Brown’s, but also an investor, I’m sure they’ll see past the fact that the elusive Mr. Brown is…” He glanced at Muzzy. “Where did we decide he was?”
“With his sick mother. She’s doing terribly. Practically dying.”
“Right. He is with his sick mother. Who could have an issue with that?” Jonathan asked, pulling out onto the main road leading out of Rockport. “I can already smell the ink on the deal.”
Muzzy crossed the fingers on both hands inside her mittens.
They arrived in Boston early as planned and walked into a department store to warm up. Conversation was impossible with how hard their teeth chattered and their bodies shook. They hurried around the store, taking the stairs up and back down several times to warm themselves.
If he hadn’t been so frustrated with Caleb, he’d have asked to use his truck. At least that had an enclosed cab.
Once they were able to speak normally, they walked down the street to an office building. Jonathan looked up from the address, written on a piece of paper.
“Well, here it is. Are you ready?”
Muzzy gave a hard nod and linked her arm through his. “Let’s do it.”
***
Maura sat at the table clasping her hands, staring at her tea.
“And ye have no idea who might have said it?” Ian asked quietly.
“The only one I’ve told is Miss Claire, when she was grievin’ for Mr. Aryl. I can’t imagine her sayin’ anythin’…gossiping about such a sensitive thing.”
“No, it wouldn’t be like her. But somehow, someone found out and did go on to gossip about it.” He sat back in his chair. “I mean to find out who.”
“What will it change, Ian? It’s out now and all we can do is answer what questions Scottie has, remind him that we both love him very much and move on. Findin’ whoever is talking about our private
life will only lead to trouble. I know you. Yer a quiet, peaceful man. But under the right circumstances ye will come out swingin’ and we can’t afford any trouble,” she said. “Just let it be.”
Ian got up, walked to his coat and pulled something out of the pocket.
“What’s that?”
“I stopped by Tuck’s on my way home.”
She smiled. “That was sweet.”
“No, the gesture is desperate. The candy is sweet.”
“There’s nothin’ to worry about, Ian. Yer the one he has always called da. This knowledge won’t change how he looks at ye,” she said, reaching out to hold his hand.
“Well, a bit of candy won’t hurt, now will it?” He smiled nervously, placed the candy wrapped in brown paper in the middle of the table and took a deep breath. “When is he due home?”
Maura glanced at the clock. “Any minute now.”
“Are ye sure ye want to do this now? Today? Can’t we give ourselves a few more days?”
“We’ve already dodged it enough. It’s time to get it out and over with. It will be fine,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“And yer prepared to talk about him? Patrick?”
“As prepared as I can be. Who knows, maybe this will provide a bit of healin’ for me, too.”
They heard the door open, then slam. Ian wiped his forehead.
“Mam, I’m home!” he called out.
“It the kitchen, Scottie!” she called. Ian flashed a look of worried anticipation.
He walked in, set down his books and looked them over.
“Are you okay, Mam?”
“I’m fine. I thought…I thought perhaps we could talk about the questions ye had last week.”
“Oh,” Scottie said, his face grew light and curious.
“I’m sorry to make ye wait, I just needed some time to think things over and talk with yer da.”
Scottie’s eyes darted to Ian and back to Maura.
“I suppose ye want to know who he was…and why he’s not here now.”
Scottie nodded.
“His name was Patrick Scott Ganley,” she said quietly, dropping her eyes. “We were married very young and not for a long time. He died just a year after we were married. And only weeks after I found out I was to have you.”
Purling Road - The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 4