by Jan Fields
Tucking the little box into the glove compartment of the Malibu, Annie stood and looked across the yard into Alice’s driveway. The Mustang wasn’t there, so Annie would have to make this drive alone. She didn’t want to put off the trip to the Stony Point Veterinary Clinic to ask about the Friends of St. Francis.
Annie drove up to the small Georgian home that housed the clinic on the first floor and Janet Martin’s living quarters on the second floor. The house had the clean, strictly symmetrical façade that was typical of the really old Georgian houses all over New England. Heavy modillion moldings underneath the roofline eave were balanced by thick window heads above the first story windows.
A small neat sign next to the front door was the only clue that the historical house was more than just a private home. Though she’d been to the clinic a number of times for Boots’s checkups, Annie marveled once again at how often business locations in New England were marked with tiny signs. It was nothing like the huge signs, often standing well above building height, that she saw so often back in Texas.
Annie opened the door and the sense of a private home ended as the door opened into a foyer with clear signs pointing visitors toward the admissions area. In the large, bright admissions room, a row of chairs faced a long desk where an older teenager talked on the phone. Annie recognized her from past visits. The girl wore her straight hair in a neat bob; several streaks of sky blue contrasted sharply with the coal black of the rest of the girl’s hair.
Most of the chairs in the waiting room were full. Annie recognized several of the people from church, and they smiled and nodded at her. The girl at the desk looked up with concern as she hung up the phone. “Mrs. Dawson,” she said. “I hope Boots isn’t sick.”
“No, the only thing Boots is suffering from is annoyance,” Annie said.
The girl looked at her quizzically.
“I’m watching Tartan while the mayor is away,” Annie said. “Boots is not one of Tartan’s bigger fans.”
The girl’s eyes opened wide. “You have them both in the same house?”
“No,” Annie laughed. “I don’t know if Grey Gables would survive that. I’m going over to Ian’s house a couple times a day, but since I come home smelling of Tartan, Boots is giving me the cold shoulder.”
The girl giggled. “So do you need an appointment?”
“Actually, I was hoping to chat with Dr. Martin about something,” Annie said. “It’ll only take a few minutes, but it looks like she’s very busy.”
“A little, but most of these folks are going to be quick in-and-outs. If you don’t mind waiting, I can go see if Dr. Martin thinks she’ll be able to squeeze in a quick chat.”
“Thanks.”
Annie walked over and sat by Chessey Cushman, who held a small pet carrier in her lap. Annie peeked into the carrier and spotted a tiny, mostly bald poodle shivering inside. “Is your dog sick?” she asked.
Chessey shook her head. “No, Don Juan shivers like that all the time. Dr. Martin said it’s quite common in dogs of his age. He actually feels fine; he just needs an s-h-o-t.”
Annie smiled a little, wondering if Chessey really thought her dog could spell. “Chessey, do you happen to remember the Friends of St. Francis? I think it was some kind of animal shelter.”
“Oh yes, I remember it. I even volunteered there some when I was younger,” she said. “They were lovely people. Don Juan didn’t come from there, of course. He’s purebred.”
“I think Boots may have come from the Friends of St. Francis,” Annie said. “She was Gram’s cat, and I inherited her with Grey Gables.”
“It’s possible,” Chessey said. “I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t really involved with the adoption side. I mostly cleaned pens for the few animals they kept there at the main house. Most of the animals were fostered in homes all over Stony Point.”
Annie didn’t know what else to ask, so she sat back quietly. In a few minutes, she heard someone open the front door, followed by several loud thumps and disgruntled yowls. Finally, Nancy Breaker appeared in the doorway, struggling to carry a huge pet carrier. She managed to slam the carrier against the door frame and then again against the reception desk. Each thump produced more yowling from inside the carrier.
An older man who sat next to an elderly Labrador retriever stood up quickly and took a few steps toward the desk. “May I help you?” he asked.
“No, no—I’m fine,” Nancy said, turning to smile at him and smacking the carrier against the desk again, producing more yowls.
“Dr. Martin will be with you shortly,” the receptionist said, looking with alarm at the large pet carrier. “You can have a seat.”
Nancy looked around the room and caught sight of Annie. She broke into a big smile and staggered across the room with the carrier. She practically fell into the seat beside Annie, dropping the carrier on the floor between her feet. “I’m so glad to see you, Mrs. Dawson,” she said. “Have you thought about the parade of homes tour?”
“I’m really thinking I might prefer not to participate,” Annie said.
“But Grey Gables is so lovely,” she said. “You can be proud of what you’ve done for the place. Here, wait, look at how beautiful your home would look to people on the tour.” She rooted in the large handbag she had slung over her shoulder and pulled out a glossy paper with “Parade of Homes” printed across the top. On the sheet Annie spotted photos of several Stony Point homes, including both Stella Brickson’s house and Grey Gables!
“I can’t believe you’re using Grey Gables on advertising when I haven’t given permission,” Annie said testily. “And I’m certain Stella wouldn’t be pleased to see this either.”
Nancy blinked at her in surprise, her large glasses making her look doubly shocked. “I’m not using your house on advertising. I printed this just for some of the more reluctant homeowners—to show you how nice your home would look on the tour!”
“Well, be certain not to put Grey Gables on the actual advertising,” Annie said. “I don’t want to be on the tour.”
“But your house is so lovely,” Nancy said. “Really, you should be proud of what you’ve done.”
“I am,” Annie said, “but I know I would obsess over every detail if I let the house be part of the tour. I tend to be a worrier. I’d make myself sick over it. I’m absolutely decided about it.”
The other woman sighed. “I really thought we’d get more response than we have. There are so many lovely homes here. I wonder if it’s me. I know I can be too gobby and a lot of people don’t like that.”
“Gobby?” Annie echoed.
Nancy chuckled. “Sorry about that. It means talkative. Some people in the States might say ‘gabby.’ I lived in Britain for several years when I was younger. You pick up the oddest slang when you live in a place. You should hear my nieces laugh at me when I call their athletic shoes ‘trainers.’”
Annie looked at the woman a moment, stunned. Nancy was certainly a little woman and about Annie’s age. And she was plump. She remembered Adam saying that Candace Caine was not as thin as American women in the movies. Could this be the woman Adam was searching for?
“Is something wrong?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Annie said, still feeling stunned. “I just thought of something. Did you enjoy living in Britain?”
“For the most part,” she said as she sat back in her seat. “I can’t imagine living anywhere but Stony Point now. I’ve always felt at home here.”
“Yes,” Annie said. “I feel that way too.”
“Of course, now I’m having such a horrible time getting enough homes for the tour.” She patted Annie’s hand. “Which does not mean I’m still trying to talk you into it. I heard you loud and clear.”
“Have you talked to Gwendolyn Palmer?” Annie asked hesitantly. “She mentioned that she wouldn’t mind having Wedgwood on the tour.”
Nancy’s eyes grew wide behind her round lenses. “Really? That would be brilliant. They have such lovely rose
s. I’ve never been terribly successful with roses, though I’ve planted them all around my cottage. I suspect they don’t get enough sun with the willow trees.”
“Is that why you want roses on the Town Square?” Annie asked. “I’m afraid I agree with Mary Beth about how impractical that would be. So many children play there when the tourists come in the summer.”
“I suppose,” Nancy said. “I’ve never had children, and I don’t think about them all that much. My cats are as close as I come to kiddies.” She leaned down to coo into the front of the pet carrier. A paw darted out and batted at the laces on Nancy’s very sensible shoes. Nancy patted the paw, and it darted back into the carrier.
“Mrs. Dawson?”
Annie looked up to find the teenager from the front desk standing in the doorway. She gestured to Annie. Even though she wanted more time to talk with Nancy, Annie hurried over. “I talked to Dr. Martin, and she’s leaving as soon as these appointments are finished. She is making a house call on one of our elderly clients. Her shih tzu isn’t well, and the owner doesn’t drive. The doctor said to tell you that she’d call you at home this evening if that’s OK.”
“That would be great,” Annie said. “Thanks.” She glanced back at Nancy who was talking into the cat carrier. Nancy had lived in Britain and loved cats. She also clearly cared about Stony Point, and Kate had said she was very good with fine crochet thread. Still, she didn’t sound overly fond of children for a picture-book author. Plus, it was simply difficult to imagine someone pining away for the woman, though Annie immediately felt bad about having that thought.
“Is there something else?” the receptionist asked.
“No, I was just woolgathering,” Annie said. “Thank you again. Please tell Dr. Martin that I’ll look forward to her call. And assure her it’s not related to Boots, or not to her health anyway. I know Janet tends to worry about her patients.
“She does do that,” the teenager agreed.
Annie thanked her again and headed toward the door. Suddenly she was struck by an idea. Maybe there was a clue to the mystery that she’d overlooked.
18
Annie turned abruptly and headed back toward Nancy. “Could you tell me how many times you photographed Grey Gables?” she asked. “I think I saw you twice.”
“Well, it wasn’t actually me taking the photos,” Nancy said. “I paid my neighbor’s daughter because she’s good with a camera. I’m sorry it made you angry.”
“That’s OK,” Annie said. “So was it more than twice?”
“Yes,” Nancy admitted. “I went back and took another photo this morning because I noticed you’d put out all those lovely pansies, and I felt they added a nice touch of color. I won’t use that photo, of course.”
“This morning?” Annie asked. “Did you happen to notice anyone on my porch?”
Nancy smiled and shook her head. “I was hurrying so you wouldn’t catch me. Would you believe Stella Brickson actually sent Jason out to yell at me when I took the photos of her house? I didn’t want that to happen again.”
Annie could completely picture Stella sending Jason after Nancy, and she fought the urge to smile. “Do you suppose I could see the photo you took today?”
“Of course,” Nancy replied. “I have the camera with me.” She rummaged in her bag again and soon pulled out a small digital camera. She turned the camera on and flipped through the photos on the small view screen. When she reached the photo of Grey Gables, the small screen made it virtually impossible to tell if someone was on the porch.
“Oh, I wish I could see it bigger,” Annie said.
“I can email you a copy,” Nancy said. She rummaged again for a notebook and took Annie’s email address. “I’ll send it as soon as I get home. It won’t be as good as the other photo you saw. I’m not the best photographer.”
“I’d appreciate seeing it just the same,” Annie said. She thanked Nancy and headed out of the clinic.
She was soon driving toward Main Street to mail the package to LeeAnn and then talk with Mary Beth and Kate. When she passed the Stony Point Community Church, Annie suddenly had an idea and turned into the lot. If Nancy was the cat sculptor, she would need to be an active part of the church to have access to the storage room.
As she slipped into the back door, she heard music and followed the sound to the big meeting room where a large group of women were hopping and lunging and swinging their arms in time to the music. The exercise class was one of the many groups that used a portion of the church during the week. Annie sighed, remembering the long list that the church secretary had ticked off. The number of people who might be familiar with the storage room could indeed include everyone in Stony Point!
Still, as long as she was there, she decided to chat with Ellen Whitaker again. Adam was so certain that Candace would be involved with children in some capacity, so Annie wanted to ask Ellen if Nancy was a Sunday school volunteer.
She found the cheerful young woman standing out in the hall in front of the office, humming to herself. Ellen turned away from the bulletin board where she was pinning things and smiled. “Mrs. Dawson, how are you?”
“Great,” Annie said as she stepped up to admire Ellen’s work. The bulletin board was covered in a lovely spring floral pattern. Across the top, it read, “Volunteers Spring Up All Over.” All over the board, various photos were pinned up. “It looks like the church has a lot of volunteers.”
Ellen nodded. “We’re very blessed. Every time Reverend Wallace asks for help, people step right up. Though some people take on so much that I worry about them.”
Annie pointed to one photo that showed a group of smiling women. “Who are they?”
“They teach children’s Sunday school,” Ellen said. “They’re one of the groups I worry about, some of them take on nursery duties during the main service as well as Sunday school before. They just love the kids so much.”
Interested, Annie looked closer. She didn’t see Nancy. “Is this everyone who works with the children?”
“All the regulars,” Ellen said. “Sometimes teens will help out in the baby nursery, and I didn’t manage to get Peggy Carson in the photo.”
“Oh?” Annie said. “I didn’t know Peggy taught Sunday school.”
“She doesn’t do it all the time,” Ellen said. “She’s our backup, though she’s had to fill in a lot more than usual this year with Ivy being sick so much. But Peggy is great with the kids, and Emily is always so excited every time her mom is the classroom leader.”
“Do you have any other backups?” Annie asked. “Anyone named Nancy?”
Ellen shook her head, smiling. “Do you want to be added to the roster? I think we’re OK in the classrooms, but we can always use someone else in the nursery rotation. We hate to have the same people missing the service all the time. The teens are great, but we like having an adult in there with them in case of emergencies. And to be honest, diapers are changed more often if we have an adult in there.”
“That sounds like fun,” Annie said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve spent an hour or so holding babies.”
Ellen beamed and promised to put her on the list. “Someone will call you to talk about the schedule.”
Annie headed out of the church feeling a little disappointed. She didn’t think that she’d learned anything valuable, but she was glad she’d be helping out in the nursery. With the twins in school already and no new grandchildren in the plans, Annie did sometimes miss the special feeling of holding a baby.
She stopped in at the post office and was greeted by Norma, the only employee she ever saw there. Annie noticed that Norma’s perm had grown out some and the longer, softer curls gave the rather plain woman a feminine softness to her face. Norma actually smiled as Annie placed her package on the counter. “Sending something to the twins?” Norma asked.
Annie looked at her in surprise. Norma was normally even less chatty than Stella and definitely did not believe in small talk. “Yes,” Annie said. “Easter g
ifts.”
“That’s great; I’m sure they’ll enjoy them.”
As Norma weighed the package, Annie decided to risk a question. “Do you know if someone named Candace Caine lives in Stony Point?”
Norma’s face darkened slightly. “It’s like I told that British fella, I can’t give out information on Stony Point residents.”
“Oh, I understand,” Annie said, realizing that Adam had beat her there.
“Now, since you are a Stony Point resident,” Norma said. “I’d be willing to tell you that we certainly haven’t delivered any mail to anyone by that name.”
“Oh—thanks.”
As Norma took Annie’s money for the postage, she looked at the cash register where she spotted a small orange-striped cat sitting in a miniature letter carrier’s bag. “Oh, you got a cat too!”
“The post office did,” Norma agreed with a warm smile. “Someone really appreciates our service to the community.”
“I can see that,” Annie said. “That cat is lovely. Would you mind if I snapped a picture of it? I’m collecting photos of all the cats around town.”
“That would be fine,” Norma said. “We’re very proud of it. You know, you can think no one notices the work you do in a job like this, but when I look at that little cat, I know someone noticed. Can you imagine the hours someone put in just for us?” She smiled fondly at the little sculpture.
“I’m sure it’s well deserved,” Annie told her as she snapped the photos. “Did you get a card with it?”
“Yes, and it’s so cute, look!” Norma thrust the card toward Annie.
Annie took it and snapped a photo from her phone. She immediately recognized the handwriting as she read it: “Neither snow, nor rain, nor gloom of night can keep me from saying thank you.”
After the post office, the drive to A Stitch in Time was quick. Annie grabbed her cat sculpture from the glove compartment and slipped it into her project bag before hopping out of the car. The shop was bustling, so Annie settled into one of the comfy chairs and pulled out some scrap yarn to whip up a quick bazaar toy until the shop crowd thinned down. Now and then, Mary Beth cast her a curious glance, but Annie just smiled.