Pages of the Past (Bellingwood Book 9)

by Muir, Diane Greenwood

  "Then my next question is where should we put her?"

  "Where do we need her the worst?"

  "It's really six of one, half dozen of the other," Jeff put his hands out and lifted each as if they were a balanced scale.

  Polly sat back in the chair. "I don't want to tell you what to do," she said.

  "Do you have an idea?"

  She sat forward again. "Okay, hear me out and don't get all 'Polly's a busy-body' on me, okay?"

  "Whatever. You are who you are. Pointing out the obvious seems like a waste of time."

  "Jerk."

  "Yes, boss. I am."

  She laughed. "I was thinking that she and Kayla live in a really dingy trailer. They have no money to make it nice. Barely any money to buy furniture. We could take some of the furniture from my Dad's house to the caretaker's cottage and they could live there."

  He thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I only hesitate because with the people that are in and out of there, I can't guarantee they'll be totally safe. I'd really like to put a married couple in there."

  "Sexist much?"

  "I know. It's horrible," he said. "But they're right on the highway and who knows what kind of creeps would show up in the middle of the night."

  "Turn the vacancy light off."

  "But still. Creeps. She's so young and if her younger sister is there with her. It's just too scary for me to do that to her."

  "Then you've already made your decision."

  "I know we don't help her living situation right away, but I'm going to pay better than the convenience store, so she'll make more money and other than special events, she'll have normal hours. And maybe..." He looked at Polly.

  "Maybe what?"

  "Maybe her sister could come here with Rebecca and Andrew after school. She'd have a better place to be and could leave with Stephanie at five."

  "You're so smart. You should tell me what you're thinking before I start babbling."

  Jeff grinned at her. "It's so much more fun when you babble. I'm going to offer her the job. Did you talk to Sarah Heater?"

  "I think she's relieved that we aren't counting on her. It's settled. Go hire yourself an assistant."

  He stood up and patted Polly's shoulder as he walked past her to go talk to Stephanie again. "Thanks."

  ~~~

  When Polly's stomach rumbled a third time, she turned her monitor off and pushed back from her desk. The stomach wasn't going to feed itself. Sylvie and Rachel were serving a lunch meeting in the auditorium and she didn't want to bother them today. The last thing she wanted was to have to forage for food upstairs.

  "Hey," she said, poking her head in Jeff's office. "I'm going to the diner for some food. You want anything?"

  "Nah. I'm good." He held up an apple.

  "Are you dieting again?"

  "Go eat your lunch and leave me alone."

  She shook her head. "You're a good looking man. Don't be silly."

  "Dating, you know."

  "If he doesn't love you for who you are right now, he isn't worth it."

  "Easy for you to say, you svelte wench, you. And you're happily married, too."

  "Maybe you should get a big dog that needs a lot of walks. You'd be surprised at how many calories you can use up."

  He seemed to ponder the possibility and then laughed. "No, I think I'll just suffer and feel sorry for myself."

  "I'm having a pork tenderloin," she said, tauntingly.

  "Now you're a nasty wench. Get out before I throw this apple at you."

  "Okay, you're sure you don't want me to bring anything back for you?"

  Jeff gripped the arms of his chair dramatically and threw his head back. "Begone! You are my devil!"

  Polly laughed at him as she walked out of the office.

  Once she got in the truck, she texted Henry. "I'm heading to the diner for lunch. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

  "That would be great!" he texted back. "Can we call in an order and have you bring it to the shop?"

  "Sure. I'll be over after a while."

  "Thank you. You're the best wife I've ever had."

  "Uh huh. That could be an interesting conversation."

  He sent back a heart emoji and she drove out and headed downtown.

  Lucy smiled at her when she went in. "Are you here to stay?"

  "No, Henry is going to call in an order for takeout. Could you add a pork tenderloin with fries to that for me?"

  "Sure, honey. Have a seat. I'll get you a Dew."

  "Thank you." Polly looked around the diner and saw Aaron Merritt sitting by himself in a corner. "Lucy?"

  "Yeah, hon."

  "I'm going to talk to the Sheriff. Skip the Dew."

  "I can bring it to you over there."

  "Nah. I'll only be a few minutes. Wave at me when the food's done."

  "Got it." Lucy swung around with a pot of coffee and headed for a table filled with young men.

  Aaron hadn't looked up to see her coming and was shocked when Polly sat down across from him. "Hi, Polly," he said.

  "How are you today?" she asked.

  "Fine."

  "Any news on that murder? It seems to me that a sniper in Bellingwood wouldn't be that difficult to find."

  "Unless he was in and out."

  "I suppose. So, nothing?"

  "We're investigating. I'm just not at liberty to talk about it."

  "I see." She screwed up all her courage and finally blurted out. "You're not at liberty to talk to anyone about anything these days. What's going on with you, Aaron?"

  He raised tired eyes to look at her. "Nothing."

  "That's a flat-out lie," she said, lowering her voice. "You're a wreck. Your body is screaming that there's something wrong. Do you think no one notices?"

  "Polly, this is none of your business."

  "You can tell yourself that, but you're my friend and Lydia is one of my best friends. Do you have any idea what you're doing to her? Shit, Aaron. Are you seeing someone else?"

  The shock on his face told Polly that she'd missed the mark. She was so grateful for that, she immediately felt weak all over.

  "Why would you even think that?" he asked.

  "Because you are a completely different person than the man I've known for the last two years. And your poor wife doesn't have a clue what's going on. You two have never kept secrets from each other. Of course we're going to think that's the reason."

  "Lydia doesn't think that," he said.

  "She's not saying it, but trust me when I tell you that there isn't a woman alive who doesn't worry about it when their husbands behave like you've been behaving this last month."

  "I would never betray her."

  Polly reached out. Her heart hurt so badly for him she wanted to cry. She touched his arm. "I wish you would talk to someone. Whatever is going on is destroying you and Lydia. She doesn't laugh, she doesn't play, she's numb."

  He put his arm down on the table and Polly slid her hand back so that she was holding his fingers. "Aaron, I love you. So much, but you can't keep this up."

  "I..." he sat there, shaking his head. "I can't talk about it."

  "When I saw you here, I wanted to come over and give you a piece of my mind," Polly said. "But you look like a dog who has been abandoned by its owner and left to fend for itself in the middle of winter. I want to fix this for you."

  "There's nothing for you to fix." He was shaking his head again. "It can't be fixed."

  "Then you have to get out of your funk and put it behind you. You can't live like this. You're killing yourself."

  "Maybe," he said and pulled his hand out from under hers.

  "Aaron..."

  "No, I'm not suicidal. Don't read anything into that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

  "You have to talk to someone. Isn't there anyone you trust?"

  "Not with this. Please stop pressing, Polly. I can't talk about it and even now I've probably said too much."

  "Do you love your wif
e?"

  "Of course I do."

  "Then tell her that. At least make sure that she's on your side, no matter what comes at you. The two of you have spent a lifetime creating a foundation that's solid. Don't start kicking at it because of something you can't control."

  Both of them saw Lucy give a quick wave to Polly and point at three plastic sacks beside the register.

  Aaron spoke first, "That's your order. Thank you for taking time."

  "Aaron, you're scaring us all. If nothing else, find a way back to your wife."

  "It won't be..." he started to speak and then stopped.

  Polly stood up and in a moment of complete insanity, she bent over him and hugged his neck, then whispered into his ear. "We love you, you old fool and we need you to come back to life. If you won't let us help and you won't talk to us, get over your damned self and figure it out on your own. You don't live on an island."

  He patted her arm and gave her a weak smile. "I hear you," he said. "Take care."

  Polly walked away from the table and when she reached the register, realized that she was gritting her teeth. She paid for the meals and carried the bags to her truck.

  Once she was belted in and the doors were shut, Polly slammed the palms of her hands on the steering wheel. "Damn him all to hell."

  She took a deep breath, checked her mirrors, backed out of the space and headed for Henry's shop. The smell of sawdust and a hug from the man she loved might help her get past this moment of fury.

  CHAPTER TEN

  There was no one left in the house by the time Polly left for Sylvie's. Jessie was out with friends, Henry was heading to his shop, and Rebecca was spending the evening with her mother. Sarah Heater was feeling good enough that when Rebecca asked if she could spend the night, Sarah was overjoyed to be able to say yes. The girl paid close attention to her mother's health and seemed to know when it would be okay to even ask.

  Polly offered to arrive at Sylvie's early in order to help her friend get ready for the evening, but Sylvie refused, saying that she wanted it to be a surprise for everyone and no one was to show up before six thirty - she wouldn't let them in. Polly pulled into the driveway right at six thirty and was still the first to arrive. She sat in her truck and waited... not long, before Lydia's Jeep pulled in behind her. Andy, Beryl and Lydia got out and Polly jumped down from her truck to meet them.

  "What do you think Sylvie's up to?" Andy asked. "She was pretty insistent we all come together."

  "I think she's going to meet us at the door dressed in nothing but Saran Wrap," Beryl said.

  Lydia shook her head. "Why in the world would she do that?"

  "Because it's fun!"

  "Don't you dare tell me that you ever did anything as crazy as answering the door dressed in nothing but plastic wrap."

  Beryl sashayed up the sidewalk and up the front steps to the porch. "Okay, I won't, but it certainly surprises vacuum cleaner salesmen."

  Andy gulped. "You aren't serious."

  "Oh for the love," Beryl said, cackling madly. "Of course I'm not. You know me better than that."

  "None of us really know what you might do," Polly said. "You're wild."

  "I'm not all that wild. I just like people to think I am."

  "You're plenty wild for Bellingwood," Lydia said, reaching up to ring the doorbell. "No one is ever sure what you'll do or say."

  Sylvie opened the door and held it as the four women walked into the foyer. "May I take your coats?" she asked.

  Polly shrugged her jacket off and started forward.

  "Oh no you don't," Sylvie said. "You can wait."

  "You're no fun."

  "That's what my boys tell me every day. If I can take it from them, trust me, you're easy." She hung coats and jackets in the closet and then said, "Okay. I'm just beginning to decorate, so I don't have things on the walls or my knick knacks out yet. All you're seeing is the furniture I've been looking at and finally just bought. Okay?"

  The other four nodded and Sylvie stepped forward and into the living room.

  "Oh my," Polly said. "That's not at all what I expected."

  "Do you like it?" Sylvie asked.

  "It's gorgeous! How did you do this so quickly?" Polly turned to Lydia, Beryl and Andy, who were fanning out across the room.

  "Once I found the right pieces, it was just a matter of filling in."

  "You've done a beautiful job, dear," Lydia said. "This looks very comfortable."

  "Beryl?" Sylvie turned to her friend. "I know it's not blasting with color, but..."

  "You shouldn't apologize. This is very nicely done. You used a specific palette and fleshed it out with textures. Girl, this is beautiful."

  "I wanted furniture that the boys would feel comfortable in, and I wanted it to be easy to accent."

  Andy picked up a pillow and stroked it. "So many different looks here and then the coffee table. I would never have seen these together."

  "Is it comfortable?" Polly asked.

  "Sit! I'll be right back."

  "You aren't bringing food out here. What if we spill?" Polly was horrified.

  "Please. I have two young boys. They've already climbed across everything."

  Polly sat down on the edge of the overstuffed gray sofa. It was filled with pillows in black, white and various shades of gray. At one end, a darker gray settee stood apart, creating a corner in which she'd placed a rustic end table which matched the rustic barn board plank coffee table. Two wing chairs, one in a gray plaid and the other in very different hues of gray stripes finished the seating arrangement, another end table between them.

  Sylvie had lit small white candles, adding a warm glow to the room.

  She came back in, carrying a tray filled with crackers and baked Brie covered in raspberry sauce. Sylvie placed it on the table and said, "Wine all around?"

  They nodded and made themselves comfortable and she returned to the kitchen.

  "Are you sure we can't help?" Lydia called out.

  "No. I want you to relax and then I'll show you the rest of the house." Sylvie poked her head back out, holding a bottle of wine while she twisted the corkscrew into it. "I haven't bought the dining room set yet, so we're eating in the kitchen, but I think you'll like it out there."

  They sat and looked at the Brie, no one willing to say anything. Then Sylvie called out, "Polly? Could you come here?"

  Polly jumped up and ran into the kitchen. "What do you need?"

  "I was so nervous about showing you the new living room furniture that I seem to have lost my mind. Could you take these plates and napkins out?"

  "Sure," Polly said, giggling. "How about a knife or two. And can you manage the wine glasses?"

  "Hush. You're laughing at me."

  "A little bit. It's just us."

  "It's the first time I've been able to host an evening and I wanted to make it nice."

  "It is nice. You've done a beautiful job with your living room and you have confidence in your food, right?"

  "Well, yes."

  "Then relax. It's just us."

  "Okay, then. Just a second."

  Sylvie reached down into the back of a cupboard and brought out a big wooden tray. "Put the plates and things on here. The glasses will fit, too. You can carry the wine and I'll take this."

  "This is beautiful. Why haven't you used it before?"

  "Because I forgot I had it until we moved."

  "It would look great on that coffee table."

  "Do you think I should just leave it there and put decorative things in it."

  "You should do whatever you think looks nice. Now come on. We need to get wine in all of us, don't you think?" Polly grabbed two bottles of wine and followed Sylvie back into the living room.

  "Now we're talking," Beryl said and stood up. "Tell me how I can help you."

  Sylvie put the tray down and passed out small plates. "Sorry about that."

  "Don't worry," Lydia said. "You're fine."

  "I was so flustered at having yo
u here." Sylvie handed the cork screw to Polly, who opened the second bottle and began pouring. "I've been running since I walked in the door after work. Thank goodness I put the meal together during the day today."

  "Where are the boys?" Andy asked.

  "Eliseo took them. And he took the dog. He thought that the three of them should do obedience training, so every Thursday evening, they go down to Ames."

  "I wouldn't have thought he needed obedience training," Lydia said.

  Sylvie smiled. "Of course he doesn't, but the first time he watched Andrew try to walk with Padme on the leash, he knew he had to fix it. They have a great time. The boys get McDonalds or whatever they can talk him into eating for supper and if the class goes well, he treats them to ice cream."

  "When are you going to figure this out, girl?" Beryl asked quietly.

  "Figure what out?"

  "That the two of you should be together."

  "Don't start. We're just friends."

  "And those kisses haven't meant anything?"

  "Kisses. As in plural?"

  "You're telling me that you've only kissed once."

  Sylvie's entire body flushed red.

  "You've kissed more than once!" Beryl exclaimed. "I knew it. Methinks thou doth protest too much."

  "Fill me back up," Sylvie said, holding her empty wine glass out to Polly. "I won't make it through the entire evening if I'm not a little loose. Not with this woman in my house."

  Beryl shrugged. "At least it's out there on the table. It isn't like we haven't all been wondering if you're going to finally let him in your bedroom."

  Sylvie's mouth dropped open and the other three flipped their faces toward Beryl, in shock.

  "What?" she asked. "Are we supposed to be prudes now?"

  Lydia was the first to speak. "I think our bedrooms should be off limits."

  Beryl finished her wine and held it out to Polly. "Whatever. Just because you haven't been getting any for the last couple of months."

  Lydia put her glass down on the table and reached for her purse, then pulled out a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes and turned away.

  "Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Beryl said. "I didn't mean to make you cry."