Purling Road - The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-10

by M. L. Gardner

  Muzzy’s eyes popped wide. “This is a family newspaper, Maura!”

  “Aye. I’m aware. I posed the question and the response tactfully. Trust me, it’s just shocking enough to spark some interest, but not so shocking that ye should receive complaints.” She sat back and folded her hands, pleased with herself. “I considered getting Miss Arianna’s help with the response, but I remembered this was going out in a public manner and thought twice of it.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Muzzy said as her eyes floated over the paper. “As it is, I don’t know if I can run this.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Maura asked, leaning forward, peeking at the words she knew by heart.

  “You suggested she openly talk with her husband about desires and…” Muzzy blushed a deep crimson. “Specific likes and dislikes…and you suggested—” Muzzy dropped the paper and covered her eyes. “To use oil. Dear Lord, I can’t run this!”

  “I didn’t come out and say it like that,” Maura said, snatching the paper from her hand. “I said, ‘Communication is key to achieving a happy relationship in all areas, and behind closed doors is no exception. While society deems it impolite to talk of such things publicly, it is vital to be vocal with your husband about your desire to improve the situation. You may find it awkward at first, to communicate your specific likes and dislikes. Men are not mind readers and will generally take silence as an indicator that everything is just fine. You must speak up. Additionally, it’s often found that at romantic times, the aid of an oleaginous substance most often results in a more agreeable experience.’ Any child that picked this up wouldn’t have any clue as to what I’m talking about,” Maura said, slapping the paper back down.

  “Did you have to be so forward in your first questions?” Muzzy asked, cringing.

  “Yes. Ye want to sell papers, don’t ye? It’s tactful, honest and bold. Be bold, Muzzy. Besides, it’s likely a problem that at least a few women are having. And running that question and response might help them. Who knows. Perhaps there will be more ladies smiling at the grocery next week.”

  Muzzy fought a smile, but didn’t win. “Alright,” she said, wiping the bangs out of her eyes. “I’ll run it.”

  ***

  Caleb finished his work in the barn just as David returned from the boats. A brilliant sun was setting, giving the illusion of warmth in the sky, though the air around them was biting. Before they were in the door, Arianna was there to greet them. She gave Caleb a passing peck on the lips and held a paper out to David.

  “This telegram came for you today. I tried not to read it.”

  Stepping into the kitchen, he accepted the paper with one hand and he pulled his hat off with the other.

  “You tried?” he asked, his eyes teasing.

  “Well…” Arianna twisted her hands together, glancing between him and Caleb. “I thought it was for us, you see. I read the first few lines, realized it wasn’t and put it down. Only my eyes…might have…kept reading. I’m sorry,” she said. She didn’t appear remorseful, but bubbly, ecstatic.

  David sat down at the table while reading the telegram. His breath left in a sudden burst and he sat back.

  “Loretta’s delivered,” he said in quiet amazement.

  “I am sorry you missed it,” Arianna said.

  “Me, too. But so long as everything went well…” David’s eyes scanned the telegram.

  “It’s a girl,” Arianna said, pulling out a chair. “A healthy girl and mother is doing fine.”

  “I read that, thank you,” David said. He wasn’t mad, or at least didn’t appear so. He was bewildered, shocked and more than a little disappointed that now he’d missed the births of both his children.

  “Congratulations,” Caleb said, slapping him on the back. David rocked with the force of Caleb’s hand and then snapped back to reality.

  “Thank you,” he said, smiling as he glanced up. “She named her Makayla. After my sister that passed a few years ago.” He nodded in silent approval. “I’ll bet she’s just as pretty, too.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Arianna said and then jumped to her feet. “We need to celebrate! I’m afraid I don’t have anything other than coffee though.”

  “That sounds like a nice way to both celebrate and warm up,” David said.

  “I do have something stashed way back under the sink,” Caleb said, brows raised with suggestion. “If we wanted to add a bit of a nip to it.”

  Arianna stopped and put a hand on her hip, clearly unhappy. “Why didn’t I know about this?” she asked. “Do you know how many times I could have done with a drink after a day with the children and your mother?”

  “That is precisely why I never told you,” Caleb teased. Arianna scowled then turned and poured three cups of coffee. Caleb topped them off with whiskey and they all raised their mugs.

  “To David and his new daughter, Makayla,” Caleb said.

  “Well, don’t forget Loretta. She did do all the work, after all,” Arianna said.

  “And Loretta,” Caleb added. They clinked, sipped and smiled.

  “I suppose I’d better make plans to go get them soon,” David said folding both hands around his mug.

  Caleb lost a bit of his cheer, knowing that Jonathan again would be left shorthanded.

  “When do you think that will be?” he asked.

  David shrugged. “I think the end of this week I’ll have enough.”

  Caleb, tempted to be selfish, refrained. He wanted to suggest David stay on another week at least and earn enough to make the trip comfortably. But, knowing the heartache having missed Felicity’s birth himself, he couldn’t bring himself to suggest that David put off seeing his family any longer. To suggest he leave later was only delaying the inevitable.

  “I suppose I’ll tell Jonathan tomorrow.”

  “He’ll be sorry to hear it.”

  “Oh, rats,” Arianna said, sinking her chin into her palm.

  “What’s wrong?” Caleb asked.

  “Mother Ethel. She’s going to be broken hearted that you won’t be here to read to her anymore.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll stop by in a few weeks and introduce you to my family. And I’ll bring a book,” David said.

  ***

  Peter Burkley was no stranger to making women swoon. He didn’t even have to try. With good teeth and a wide smile, a strong jaw and well placed brown eyes, it was just a natural occurrence. So he wasn’t surprised when he walked into the Rockport Review and flashed a smile that made Muzzy choke on her coffee.

  “Peter, what are you doing here?” she asked, wiping her chin.

  “I just wanted to thank you for getting me on with your friends. I really appreciate the help.”

  “Not a problem at all. How’s it going? They’re great, aren’t they?”

  “They are great. Real nice people. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out.”

  “Oh,” Muzzy said, sitting up straighter. “Did they let you go?”

  “No, I quit. I have a feeling they would have let me go though. It just didn’t work out. It’s no one’s fault. I came here because I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t appreciate you using your connections to help me. And, I wanted to ask you to dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Muzzy squeaked.

  “I still haven’t heard that long story behind your name,” he said.

  “Story…behind the name…right,” Muzzy said. Swooning as she was, she managed to have a few grounded thoughts, one of them being Harold.

  Harold, who was not anatomical perfection, but seemed to care about her very much and did consider himself her beau. She did, too, when she managed to carve out a few moments of time to spend with him. She was torn between the exciting prospect standing before her and loyalty.

  “Well, er…”

  “If you don’t want to, no hard feelings,” Peter said.

  “It’s not that, it’s just…” She stumbled over her words and fumbled her fingers for another moment before deciding to come right out and say
it. Hating herself with every single word.

  “I have a boyfriend, you see. His name is Harold.” She visibly cringed. Peter seemed unaffected.

  “Well,” he said, taking a step closer and dropping his eyes. “We’ll call it a business dinner. You can tell me all about the newspaper industry.” Glancing up, he waited.

  Excitement began to win the battle. “I think, perhaps, a business lunch might be a bit more appropriate. If that’s alright?” At least to Muzzy it sounded more appropriate, should she have to explain herself.

  “That sounds wonderful. Are you free tomorrow?”

  His eyes floated around her office, taking it in, almost studying it.

  “I do have to cover the first winter market in the afternoon. As long as I’m able to get to that, I can rearrange everything else. Where would you like to meet?”

  ***

  While Ethel sat dozing in her chair, Jean walked around the room. He had been officially named Emily’s little helper while all the mothers were away at the winter market. He took the job quite seriously. He checked on Felicity, sleeping in her bassinette. She was fine. With pink cheeks and tightly closed fists, she slept open mouthed, lying on her back despite the noises in the room. He touched the fine dark hair on the top of her head gently before moving on.

  Samuel and Savrene sat on the sofa together. Samuel held a small toy and Jean watch as Savrene slowly slid her hand toward it. He expected there would be a tussle and loud crying soon. Seeing Savrene’s ragdoll in the corner, he swiped it up and gave it to her, hopefully delaying a spat between the twins.

  His sister, Amy, sat wide legged on the floor, Jac snuggled close by her. So long as Jac stayed near Amy, he felt confident he could manage the bunch. Amy had a hypnotic effect on Jac and spending time with her was the only time Jac was tame.

  Jean smiled when he looked at her. Even though she was born four months before Jac, Amy had been premature and was still much smaller than he. Jean felt protective of all small things, but none so intensely as his sister. He called her name and she looked up.

  “Want me to tell you a story?” he asked. She grinned, not understanding him, just seeming to enjoy the sound of his voice.

  He sat down next to her as Emily walked into the room.

  “My, Jean, what a wonderful helper you’re turning out to be,” she said. Arthur lifted his head from her shoulder to look at all the children. Serious, stoic little Arthur actually cracked a smile.

  “Do you mind if I set Arthur down with you for a few minutes? I need to get lunch ready for everyone.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ethel grunted, wriggled about and then settled back into sleep.

  “Come get me if she wakes up, alright?” Emily whispered. Jean nodded as Arthur scooted closer to him.

  ***

  Peter pulled out Muzzy’s chair. It was a nice restaurant, three stars if she were to go by the guidelines the food critics used in the New York Times. Restaurant reviews…food critics…those guys usually ate for free while creating content for a column.

  A new idea began swirling in her mind as Peter walked around the table and sat down. She realized a moment later that he was talking.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said, I’m glad you decided to come. Have a lot on your mind?” he asked. Both his tone and eyes teased.

  “Always.”

  “Well, I’m dying to know what’s going on in that brain that never stops.”

  “You want me to tell you?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I suppose we could talk about the weather, but that would be boring. I thought we were having lunch so we could get to know each other better.”

  Muzzy’s stomach dropped. “I thought we were supposed to talk about the paper,” she said as her cheeks pinked. “A business lunch, remember?”

  It felt like anything but, and Muzzy struggled with a touch of guilt over Harold.

  “Originally, it was dinner, but you changed it to a business lunch so it would appear more proper.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want Harold to get the wrong idea. I do interviews over lunch. This isn’t completely out of the ordinary.”

  “Of course. Your boyfriend, Harold. Who is strangely never around.”

  “He’s busy. We’re both busy. But we do spend time together.”

  “When?”

  “When we can. Harold works at county records, but he’s also a writer. He’s working on a novel and he also provides articles for my paper. The paper,” she corrected quickly.

  “Tell me about your-the paper,” Peter said.

  She got the distinct feeling that Peter didn’t take much seriously. Muzzy’s existence was about life and death deadlines. Everything was to be taken seriously if she were going to make it. This small discovery about him chipped away a significant piece in her mountain of adoration.

  “It’s…a paper. A twenty-four hour a day job.”

  Peter wrinkled his nose. “That sounds awful.”

  “Oh, but it’s not. I love it. I only need three more of me. That’s the problem. Too many jobs, not enough Muzzies.”

  “So, why doesn’t Mr. Brown hire more people?”

  “He’s…well, it’s just not in the paper’s budget for that right now. Hopefully next year.”

  “Next year is sooner than you think. Speaking of which, do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

  “Plans?” Muzzy asked and swallowed hard. His eyes made it so easy to lie, even to herself. But how could she? As much as she might hate them now, her ethics ran deep.

  “I do, actually. With Harold. We’re going to the Jenkins’s farm for New Year’s. Everyone is.”

  “Everyone as in the entire town?” he asked, eyes lighting up. “Will there be booze?”

  “No, just their group of friends.” She declined to answer the booze question. Knowing them, and the fact that Maura would be there, most likely everyone would bring something they’d stashed.

  He flashed another breathtaking smile and looked up through dark lashes. “Are you sure you don’t want to break off your plans and go to Boston with me?”

  Her heart…well, not her heart. Her loins, if she was being completely honest, were screaming yes. But her ever rational mind firmly said no. Frankly, it irritated her that instead of asking to be included, as Harold would have, he’d asked her to forget her own plans.

  “I wouldn’t want to miss a big get together at the Jenkins’s. It’s always a lot of fun when they gets together.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said, briefly pretending to pout.

  It was best to change the subject.

  “When I met you, you mentioned that you had family here. Anyone I would know?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Well, try me. I know just about everyone in town.”

  “I seriously doubt it.”

  “Well, do you want to tell me why you quit the boat with Jonathan?”

  Peter sat back with a lazy shrug. “It just wasn’t right for me.”

  “Where will you work?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll have to pick up a copy of the Rockport Review tomorrow and look through the help needed section.”

  “It’s a really small section,” she said, her eyes bulging slightly. “Not many people are hiring. That fishing job could have been good. If not a cash boon, at least it would have been steady.”

  “Like I said, not my thing. Besides, there are plenty of ways to make money.”

  “Oh?” Her eyebrows went up with interest. She sensed he was talking about things that weren’t exactly above board. “Such as?”

  He began to look uncomfortable under the questioning. In fact, he looked uncomfortable whenever it wasn’t him doing the questioning.

  “Where do you live, Peter?” she asked, leaning her elbows on the table. Without realizing it, she’d slipped into her interview pose. When she was really trying to get to the heart of something, she sat tall, leaned in and planted her
arms on the table.

  She saw a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, then a trademark smile. “I live here in Rockport.”

  “Obviously,” Muzzy said. “But what street? I—”

  “Is there really a Mr. Brown?” Peter asked, looking up. His question both stopped her cold and took control of the conversation.

  “What do you mean? Of course there’s a Mr. Brown. Why would you ask that?”

  “There’s rumors,” he said quietly and turned his head, looking for the waitress.

  “Well, who do you think owns the paper?” she asked. It was meant as both a statement of the obvious and a fact finding one. Perhaps Peter knew more than she thought. She was well practiced in denying ownership. Under Peter’s serious stare, she found it harder to be convincing.

  “Well, you could own it,” he suggested casually.

  She meant her laugh to sound as if she thought him ludicrous. It came out nervous.

  “It would explain why you care about it so much.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Peter. You tell me where you live and I’ll tell you where Mr. Brown is.”

  He shook his head. “I prefer my privacy. See…” He leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “There’s a gal who isn’t happy with me right now. We saw each other for a few months, had a good time and she thought I was keen on marriage. I broke it off and she’s angry.”

  Peter’s attempt to romance her crumbled faster than a sandcastle at high tide. Muzzy’s eyes narrowed. “You saw each other for a few months and she never knew where you lived?”

  With an uncomfortable sigh he looked away.

  “Why don’t you tell me what rumors you’ve heard about Mr. Brown?” Muzzy asked.

  “There’s two,” Peter said, appearing relieved that the discussion had turned from himself. “One, that there is no Mr. Brown. That it’s all you.”

  Muzzy struggled to maintain a face that showed no worry or surprise. “And the second?”

  “That Mr. Brown established the paper, but died and you stuffed him in a closet and took over the paper.”

  Muzzy couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.