A Big Life in a Small Town (Bellingwood #2)

by Diane Greenwood Muir

  Tires crunching on gravel drew her attention and Polly walked out to the parking lot and got in Sylvie's car. "I think they're going to be fine tonight," she said.

  "Jason will keep an eye on Andrew, and Doug and Billy are good kids. I'm not too worried," Sylvie responded. "What bread did you make tonight? It smells amazing!"

  "I've got a loaf of my oat bread and then a batch of my potato bread recipe made into rolls. Those just came out of the oven, so they're still warm."

  Sylvie reached across the console to snake her hand into the basket Polly had in her lap. Polly slapped it away. "You have to wait!" she said.

  "Why should I wait? You have hot rolls in that basket and I want one!"

  Polly couldn't dispute the truth of either statement. She pulled the cloth back and held it open for Sylvie, who quickly grabbed a roll and took a bite before Polly changed her mind.

  "Mmmmm, that's good. I don't like to make bread, so I never have this around the house. I should pay you to bake for me." Then she said, "You know, you could sell this up at the grocery store if you wanted to. They'd love to support you."

  "Can you imagine me baking bread every day? I'd go out of my mind. Maybe when you get finished with school and start catering out of Sycamore House every day, we'll talk, but until then, you can ask me for a loaf when you want one, okay?"

  Sylvie's mouth was full of the last of her roll as she said, "Mmmm. Uh huh."

  They didn't have to drive too far to get to Andy's house; it was east of town next to the cemetery. Polly laughed when she saw that Andy's mailbox now sported a blue bird cover. The first day she met Andy, the woman had talked about putting a blue bird on a post in order to tell people where she lived. Sylvie drove up the short lane to a pretty, ranch-style home. It looked exactly like Andy. Everything was neat and even in winter, the bare bushes showed signs of being perfectly trimmed. The brick around the foundation gave way to light blue siding and the white posts at the entry way looked freshly painted. A light over the front door was on and the inside door was standing open in invitation.

  Sylvie pulled a box out of her back seat and said, "I don't have quite as much to carry tonight. My goodness, that was a chore getting all my stuff into Beryl's house." They laughed at the memory as they walked up to the front door.

  "Come on in!" Andy's voice rang out. Sylvie and Polly made their way into the house and were met by Lydia who took the box from Sylvie's hands and then the basket of rolls and bag of bread from Polly.

  "You can hang your coats in the closet there," she said, nodding to the doors behind the girls. "And Andy won't say anything, but she'd prefer it if you didn't wear shoes on her carpet."

  The living room to their left was cozy and decorated in soft pastel colors. Lydia walked straight ahead into the dining room and Polly and Sylvie followed soon after. Polly looked down the hallway to her right and figured the bedrooms were down there. She walked into the dining room and to the left was the kitchen. She was surprised at the bright red walls between the upper and lower cupboards. Random splashes of lemon yellow coated the red walls and the floor was a vivid explosion of colorful tile in reds, yellows, blues, oranges and greens. The window over Andy's sink had no curtains and looked out at another portion of the cemetery filled with old trees. The yard was very well kept and the short wooden fence separating the two properties was painted a dark, barn red. There were two big windows in the dining room, artfully draped with yellow fabric and plants hung from hooks in two of the four corners of the room. The bar between the kitchen and dining room had already been filled with dishes, but Lydia found room to nudge Polly's basket of rolls in beside a broccoli salad.

  "Is Beryl coming tonight?" Sylvie asked.

  "She should be here any minute," Lydia said. "She was with us all day at Madeline Black's house and had to run home and do whatever it is she had to do."

  Andy stuck her head under the hanging cupboards over the bar. "It makes me very afraid when I think of the things she might bring with her. I don't know why she was so insistent on going home."

  "Maybe she's bringing the booze," Lydia smirked. "Or maybe she's going to make us paint again."

  "She wouldn't dare," Andy said. "She can get away with that at her house, but not at mine. I won't have it!"

  "Won't have what?" Everyone jumped when Beryl spoke up.

  "Where did you come from?" Polly asked.

  "I was sneaking up on y'all just to watch you jump. You did me proud."

  Beryl was carrying two large shopping bags and set them down. "Don't you dare look in those while I take my coat off," she said. "I'll be right back." She stuck her head back in, "And tell Miss Prissy Pants that I took my shoes off before I walked across her pretty carpet."

  "I'm going to ignore her," Andy said, "and ask what you want to drink. I have iced tea, coffee, water, and lemonade."

  Carafes of cold drinks and a red thermos of coffee sat on a pretty tray with an ice bucket in the middle at the end of the peninsula.

  Beryl scooted in between Lydia and Polly, who were pouring their own drinks and said, "What? No happy juice? Where's the booze?"

  Andy rolled her eyes and said, "You're enough trouble without it. I want my house to still be standing after you leave tonight."

  Beryl stuck her lower lip out, Lydia took the spoon she had used to stir cream into her coffee and brushed it over her friend's mouth.

  "Hey! I don't like cream in my coffee," Beryl laughed.

  Andy pulled a casserole dish out of the oven and placed it on the last open trivet. Five chicken breasts simmered in olive oil. Polly smelled the spice and asked, "What did you do to those?"

  "It's simple. I mix a bunch of spices up with some flour, wash the chicken breasts, shake them all together in a big zipper bag and bake them."

  "These smell great. What did you use?"

  "It's actually a Greek seasoning. That's why we have lemon roasted potatoes to go with it," Andy said as she drew the lid off another casserole dish with a flourish. "Now, dish up your meals and let's eat. I've been slaving away all day in the kitchen and haven't eaten a thing."

  Lydia snorted and Beryl said, "Weren't you with us when we ate that delightful lunch at Madeline's house today or was that some strange doppelganger? And I don't remember ever seeing you in the kitchen."

  "Fine, you harpy," laughed Andy. "I'm still starving."

  They filled their plates and sat down to eat.

  "I know you went with Polly the other day to Iowa Falls to see her new furniture, but you should see how it looks in place," Sylvie said. "How in the world did you get so lucky?" she asked Polly.

  "Honestly, I can't believe it. I suppose the price put some people off, but there were a lot of pieces. It was a steal for what I ended up paying her. And once I drag Lydia in and out of a few stores tomorrow to get a mattress, bedding and rugs, that room is going to be exquisite." She cut a piece of chicken, then said, "and I've decided that I'm going to name the individual rooms. That back room is going to be the Walnut Room."

  "Are you ready for next Saturday?" Andy asked.

  "Everyone keeps asking me that question," Polly said. "Jeff, Henry and Sylvie are doing all the work. As long as they tell me we're ready, then I will be ready!" She looked at Sylvie who smiled and nodded, then back to Andy. "Are you doing okay with your project in there? I suppose that needs to be cleaned up before Saturday."

  "The glass company has to finish the last three cases on the back wall and they'll be done. They said they would have that completed on Monday. Of course, I may never be finished, but I will have all of the shelves filled and identified as much as possible, then I'll move things around as time passes."

  "I'm really going to owe you for that," Polly said. "I saw some of the work tonight when I went in to check on the computer party happening in there. You've done a nice job!"

  "If there's ever anyone who can organize you within an inch of your life, it will be our Andy," Beryl said, patting her friend on the back. "She's the one wh
o keeps me organized. She knows where all of my paintings are, what my agent is up to, what I have to do next. I couldn't exist without her keeping an eye on me."

  "Really?" Polly looked at Andy with a new sense of respect. "How do you have time to do anything for me?"

  Andy laughed. "My kids thought I was going to rot away in this house when Bill died and I moved off the farm. Now, they complain that I'm never available to watch their little ones." She sighed. "I probably complain about that too, but I love doing what I do and those kids have the best mothers around. When they need me, I'm always there. Or here."

  "You should see her family room downstairs. That's the only place there is chaos around here. Andy makes sure those kiddos have a fun place to visit away from their own home," Lydia said.

  "Well, I love those little ones and I think that Grandma's house should be special. So, they get chaos and color and sounds and things their parents don't want to have around. It's a good deal for all of us," Andy said.

  Sylvie said, "You must love them if you have chaos in your basement."

  "I know that too much order isn't good for the mind. I don't want to hasten any onset of dementia, so I do my best to inject a little chaos in my life on purpose. I don't drive the same way to get places every day and I try to put my shoes and socks on differently in the morning. Sometimes it's the left foot I start with, sometimes I start with the right foot. Sometimes I put one sock and one shoe on. And I don't ..." she looked pointedly at Beryl, "I don't have a plan for what days I do different things. It occurs to me that I need to alter my pattern, so I do."

  "Are you worried about dementia?" Sylvie asked.

  "Both of my parents withered away from Alzheimer's. I plan to do everything possible to keep the neurons in my brain firing on all cylinders. That's all. If it comes, I'll deal with it, but until then, I'm fighting like hell to keep my brain busy."

  "Enough about that," Andy said. "We have to tell you about our day at Madeline Black's house! I think there's a mystery to be solved."

  Polly’s questioning look prompted Lydia to say, "She's right. That note from Madeline was very confusing. Amy talked to her brother and neither of them have any idea what their parents might have that was so important she wanted people to take care of it."

  "We went through Madeline's desk today and didn't find anything that offered a clue. Actually, we went through a great many of her cubbyholes and nothing seemed especially interesting. Nothing in her checkbook looked off, at least according to Amy. But, then, she hasn't been around much in the last fifteen years. She admitted she wouldn't know if something was odd or not," Beryl said.

  Lydia wrinkled her nose. "We have until Monday morning before dear, sweet Laurence waltzes in and puts the kibosh on any more searching. Amy's pretty sure he is going to lock up the house and sit on it forever. When Madeline wanted to move to an apartment, he didn't want to lose the house, but he didn't want to buy it from her either. She stayed to keep him happy. Amy said that he's already announced they aren't selling the house, just in case he wants to move back here when he retires."

  "Doesn't she have a say in things?" Polly asked.

  "Well, they haven't found the will yet either. Without a will, things will go to both kids and she will be able to wield some power, and if the will shows up, who knows what Bill and Madeline wanted to have happen."

  "It isn't registered down in Boone?"

  "Nope," Lydia said. "That was the first place Amy checked. She'll do some more searching on Tuesday, but isn't too hopeful. She remembers them talking about their will when she was young, because it made her mom cry to think about what might happen to the children if they died. There is one somewhere, it's just not showing up."

  "We did find Bill's old uniform from when he was in the Army. He served in the Korean War, right, Lydia?" Andy asked.

  "He did," she replied. "Do you remember the year all of the churches in town encouraged veterans to wear their uniforms to church for Veteran's Day? My goodness, that was a beautiful sight. Bill was still alive then. They all cleaned and pressed those uniforms and found their medals and polished their boots. I don't think there was a dry eye in town that day. Madeline was quite proud of her husband. He still fit in that uniform. Some of the men only had their jackets, and those had to be let out. But, every former military person was honored all around town that day. We haven't done something that big in years. It might be time to stir up a few organizers again and get them planning."

  "I'm surprised they didn't bury him in it," Sylvie said.

  "He was cremated. Madeline always said he came into the world naked as a jaybird, and that's the way he wanted to go out of the world. They weren't supposed to do anything special, only burn his remains and then she could do whatever she wanted with them."

  "Amy said Laurence had a problem with that when his dad died and has absolutely thrown a fit over the fact that his mother had already paid for a cremation. But, since that paperwork was easy to find, he had to live with it." Lydia giggled. "Live with it. Oh, I crack myself up."

  Plates were empty in front of them and Andy moved to begin clearing the table. Sylvie said, "I have dessert," and walked over to get her box. She opened it and pulled out a pie carrier. Freezer packs fluttered out around the carrier and she scrambled to toss them back in the box.

  She pulled the top off to reveal two pies. Polly's mouth began watering when she saw the meringue on the top pie. "Is that possibly lemon meringue?" she asked.

  Sylvie smiled. "It sure is. I take it you like lemon meringue?"

  "I would do about anything for a piece of that." Polly replied.

  "Well, you don't have to do anything. I promise. You've done enough to make me want to give you one of these every week for a year!" Sylvie laughed.

  She pulled off the divider and revealed a second pie covered with whipped cream.

  "What's that one?" Beryl asked.

  "Chocolate cream," Sylvie said. "I figured we could have both chocolate and fruit tonight. Andy handed her two pie servers and set a stack of plates in front of her, then took the carrier away and put it back in the box.

  "Who wants what?" Sylvie asked.

  "I have to have both!" Polly declared. "But, that might kill me. Can you cut small slices?"

  A unanimous vote of small slices for everyone and dishes were passed around. Andy refilled the carafes and brought them to the table.

  When everyone had pie in front of them, Beryl announced, "Now, it’s time for my part of the evening." She began pulling out various sized boxes from the shopping bags she had brought in, stacking them in the center of the table.

  "This is a wacky game of truth or dare. Each of us takes a box and opens it. There are three options. You can either answer the question on the paper, do the dare on the paper or pass it to someone else in the room. But, you have to declare which option you are taking before you open the box. If you choose to pass it, you have to announce who you are passing it to. And if someone passes you a box, you are obligated to do the truth or the dare. If you pass a box, you have to take another and do the truth or the dare. Are you ready?"

  "How are you going to play? Didn't you stuff the boxes?" Lydia asked.

  "No. I was honest. I took the boxes and papers over to Deena and asked her to put them together for me. I set this up weeks ago, knowing we'd get together again sometime." Beryl laughed and looked at Andy. "And you didn't think I was organized. Hah. I showed you!"

  Each person took a small box and looked at Beryl for more direction.

  "Okay. Fine," she said. "I'll start. I'm going to take the dare." She opened her box and read the paper, then began giggling. "I have to eat something old and yucky from your refrigerator." Beryl turned to Sylvie, "I didn't know we'd be at Andy's place. This is going to be a cinch. She's always cleaning out her fridge. There won't be anything bad in there."

  "That's what you think, dear heart," Andy said. "I have just the thing." She went over to her refrigerator and pulled out a bag of moldy b
read. "I was saving it for the birds outside and it got away from me. I should have tossed it out today, but now I'm glad I didn't." She opened the bag and set it in front of Beryl.

  "That figures," Beryl said. "At least it wasn't congealed gravy or something." She reached in and took a slice of bread out that was covered in green mold. "I don't know if I can do this," she said.

  "Eat the bread, eat the bread." They took up the chant Andy had started and Beryl shut her eyes and took a bite, swallowed it quickly and grabbed her glass of lemonade. After rinsing her mouth a couple of times, she shuddered and said, "Your turn, Polly."

  "Okay," Polly said. "Truth," and she opened the box. "What was one of your most embarrassing moments in your work place?" she read out loud.

  "Hmmm, I've had a lot. And you all know about Doug Randall seeing my underwear strewn down the stairway. Oh!" she said. "I know! It was at the Library. It was the fall I was taking classes toward my Master's Degree. I went to class in the evening, worked during the day and studied at night and during my breaks. I was tired all the time that semester. One day I was shelving some books and sat down on a step stool for a minute. I must have fallen asleep and when my body fully relaxed, I fell over and out into the main aisle. A young man working close by came over to help me up and I had absolutely no explanation for why I was all a jumble on the floor. I couldn't tell anyone I'd been sleeping. That was when I decided the degree could wait."

  "Did you ever finish it," Sylvie asked.

  "No, I haven't. Life and everything else kind of took precedence and I didn't need it for my job. It just seemed like the thing to do. Maybe someday, though."

  Polly looked at Lydia and said, "It's to you."

  Lydia announced that she would take truth and opened her box. "What is your guilty pleasure?" she read out loud. "I hate to admit it," she said. "It's a little twisted."