Polly grinned as she took in Andy's black slacks and blue sweater. The woman did sedate as a matter of form. "That would be great. Thanks. I'll be in the office or wandering around when you're ready to leave."
Andy went on in to the auditorium and Polly wandered back into the classroom area. Walls were up and painted, bookshelves were installed and stained. It looked as if Henry and the boys were constructing the study carrels for the computer room. She had a delivery coming in tomorrow with chairs and tables. Things were coming together.
Henry stepped out of the computer room when she walked in. "We're doing well in here. I think we'll take the time tomorrow to install the ramp out front to be ready for the weekend. I know there are going to be quite a few of the older folk in town who will want to use it."
"Thanks, Henry," she said. "You've done amazing things here."
"Polly, I think it is every carpenter's dream to restore something old and make it new again. You've just given me a chance to make that dream real."
"But, I thought you said you didn't like restoring old furniture," she taunted.
"Well, I don't. It's hard work. But, even if I don't like doing that part of it, it's a good feeling to see it come back to life."
"I get it," she said. "Still, this is amazing."
"Thanks. I've enjoyed it all." He paused, and looked up with laughter in his eyes. "Except for getting snarled at by my boss last fall."
Polly flushed red. "You aren't ever going to forget that, are you?" Henry had pushed her pretty hard about the relationship with Joey before the man had kidnapped her last fall. After spending fourteen years as an independent young woman living in Boston, having people care for her had been a new experience for Polly. What they saw as caring, she saw as control. A few well-placed words with Henry had delivered the message that he needed to give her some respect and a little space.
"I'm not likely too. In fact, I think I'd be a fool if I did. A man needs to never repeat the same mistake more than, oh, say, twice."
They both laughed at that.
"Henry?" Sam called from the other room.
"I need to get back to work," he said.
"Okay. I'll talk to you later." Polly went back into her office and sat down to check her email. She opened a message from the Sheriff's office.
Polly, we checked those phone numbers for you. They're from Chicago. I've got the names, but I'm sure they won't mean anything to you.
I also did a search for Linda Marberry and since those numbers were from the Chicago area, I specified that location. There is a Linda Marberry who lives in that same community. I've pulled her Driver's License. The picture could be of the same person, but if so, she's made a lot of changes.
Have you heard anything more from her?
If you'd like, I'll be at the funeral with Lydia and can show you the picture. We'll see if it's the same person.
Aaron
Polly wrote back telling him that she'd heard nothing more from Elise and that yes, she'd be at the funeral.
Jeff had forwarded copy for the article going into the Bellingwood Times about the barn raising and hoe-down. The paper would be out on Friday, in time to remind everyone of the Saturday event. She scanned through it, having full confidence that he'd already proofread everything. She emailed him back and assured him that it was fine. There were a few of her favorite weekly recipe emails to peruse and a note from her accountant with an attached file.
She spent the next hour going through the files he had sent as they prepared for taxes. She'd known Ed Hodgkins since she was a kid. He'd managed her dad's accounts and had filed her taxes for her every year since she'd gotten her first job in high school at the Dairy Queen. He'd been invaluable these last years since her father had died. She couldn't have had a better advisor as she began the process of renovating Sycamore House.
When she was finished, she sent a quick reply acknowledging her approval. As she leaned back in her chair, she looked out the window to see a flatbed semi pull into the parking lot. Henry was already heading out the door, with Sam and Jimmy following close behind him. She grabbed the jacket hanging behind her office door and went outside to watch the lumber get unloaded. Before she got to the front door, Jeff caught up to her, pulling on his own coat.
"We're a couple of greenhorns, aren't we, Polly?" he chuckled.
"I know!" she acknowledged. "Other than the lumberyard, I've never seen this much all in one place. And it's mine!" Her breath caught in her throat.
"Am I crazy?" she asked.
"A little bit," he laughed. "But, I think it's a good thing." He looked her in the eye. "Surely you know Henry would have said something if he thought you were making a mistake?"
"You're right," she agreed. "I have good people around me who won't let me make a fool of myself. A lot of good people. I shouldn't worry, should I?"
"You can worry, but you shouldn't," he said.
They watched as Henry talked to the driver and point where to drop the load of lumber. It didn't take long and everything was on the ground. They watched as Henry signed the paperwork and the truck drove away.
"Well, that's your barn!" he said. "Looks pretty good!"
"I'll take your word for it," Polly laughed. "Right now it looks like a pile of wood."
"The boys and I will make sure everything is in place. We're going to get started on Wednesday, so everything is ready for the party on Saturday. It's going to be fine, Polly."
Henry took her arm as they walked back into Sycamore House. "I'm not getting cold feet, but this keeps getting bigger and bigger," Polly said.
"And you're just the girl to make it happen," Jeff said. "Confidence, girl. Confidence!"
Polly went upstairs to take another quick shower and dress for the funeral. When she got back downstairs, Andy walked out of the auditorium carrying her purse. "Are you ready to go?" Andy asked.
Polly said yes and they left, driving to Andy's home. "I won't be a minute, but come on inside." Polly followed her in and sat down on Andy's sofa. She had been right. Within eight minutes, Andy was back downstairs, dressed in a neat black skirt with a blue blouse and matching black jacket. She slipped on pumps from the front closet and pulled out a knee length coat.
"Now I'm ready to go."
"That didn't take long at all."
"I had everything set out. I just needed to put it on and brush my hair once more," Andy smiled.
Cars were flowing into the parking lot as they arrived at the church. Polly was glad to be with someone who knew everyone they met. Andy made introductions while they made their way to the church basement. They stood on the stairs going down, waiting for the line to progress and she shut her eyes. It smelled the way she remembered her own church.
There was the scent of old books and furniture coupled with the smells emanating from the kitchen. She listened as she heard a low roar of chatter. There were a few voices that carried above the others and the clattering of running feet announced an oncoming rush of children who dashed past them up the steps. One young mother followed closely behind in an attempt to corral her kids.
Andy and Polly made it to the bottom of the steps and turned into the main hall. Tables were lined up and chairs were beginning to fill with people, all laughing and talking quietly. Sylvie was standing beside a young woman with her husband and two children who all looked very uncomfortable as people greeted them.
"That's Amy," Andy said as she noticed where Polly's eyes had landed. "And over there," she pointed to a man in his mid-forties standing with a prim looking lady and two older kids, all of whom looked like they would rather be anywhere but here, "is Laurence. He looks happy, doesn't he?"
Polly couldn't help herself, she snorted. "Sorry," she said. "He looks miserable; not terribly sad, just annoyed with the whole thing."
"That's about right."
Lydia and Aaron were seated in the middle of a line of tables. Lydia looked up and waved at them, then pointed at two seats beside where they were sitting.
More people found seats at the tables and the noise level rose and fell in the room. Polly and Andy finally wound their way to the seats being held for them and sat down.
"Whew!" Polly said. "This is a lot of people. Madeline Black must have been very well known."
"She was," agreed Lydia. "Some of this crowd knew and liked her husband and then there are always a few who come out to every funeral in town, so they don't miss out on the gossip and excitement. I suspect that since she was found dead in her home and the story of the unfinished note got around, that brought out even more people."
Aaron leaned across the table and stage whispered, "And it's a Methodist funeral luncheon. Some of us come for the food."
Polly laughed as she glanced at her own plate. She'd taken only a little bit of each item that looked good, but the further she got down the line, the more food had ended up on her plate. When she got to the dessert table, she'd panicked, wanting everything from the deep, rich chocolate cake to the strawberry cobbler, pecan pie and carrot cake. She finally settled on the chocolate cake, but felt a little sad at leaving everything else.
"No guilt," Lydia said. "You can't feel guilty today."
"Fine then" Polly announced. "No guilt," and began sampling her food.
Women moved throughout the tables, refilling emptied glasses and gathering up plates and silverware as people finished their meals. It seemed to Polly there was an efficiency here most restaurants would envy.
Aaron pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and unfolded it in front of Polly. The woman in the picture looked nothing like Elise Myers, at least on the surface. Elise's hair was brown and long, while Linda Marberry's hair was a beautiful red and cropped quite short, framing the woman's face. Linda Marberry wasn't wearing glasses, but Polly knew that didn't count. The biggest difference was in the eyes. Linda's were bright and shining. If it was really Elise, she had done a great deal to change the structure of her eyebrows and she either wore makeup to make her eyes look deep and sunken or there was something wrong. Elise probably weighed a good thirty pounds more than the woman in the photo.
"I don't know," she said to Aaron. "I just don't know. I'm terrible at faces anyway, so I can't say for sure if they are the same person."
"Well, now you've seen this," he said. "We'll keep an eye on things to see if she comes back."
"Okay," Polly said.
They finished their meal and went upstairs. They each signed into the guest register and then found a pew where they could be seated together. A pianist was quietly playing some classical pieces and there were low murmurs in the sanctuary as people filled in the pews. Polly looked up as Sylvie touched her shoulder and they moved together so she could join them. Soon the family was escorted in and Polly recognized Pastor Boehm, who walked to the front of the sanctuary.
He knelt in prayer for a few moments at the altar while the pianist continued playing and the room became quiet. He stood, walked to the pulpit and began the service. An organist joined the pianist as the congregation sang hymns. Polly watched as Amy's shoulders shook when Pastor Boehm began speaking about the relationship Madeline had with her family, the community, the church and with God. Amy's husband put his arms around her and her youngest son leaned into her. Polly glanced at Laurence and his wife, who sat rigidly at the other end of the pew. While she felt badly for Amy's grief, it occurred to her that Laurence was the one to be pitied.
The service soon came to a close and Polly was glad to get back outside. The sanctuary had warmed up quite a bit with all the people gathered and the woman in front of her had overdone it with some flowery perfume. She'd tried not to cough and Lydia pressed a piece of gum into her hand, then patted it. Polly chuckled. It was the same move Mary, the woman who cared for her after her mother died, made when Polly began squirming in church on Sunday mornings. Anything to keep the little girl occupied.
She and Andy said goodbye to Lydia and Aaron. Sylvie had already made her way back to Amy. When they got in the car, Andy asked, "Do you mind if we run back to my house so I can change and get back to work."
Polly smiled, "That would be great. Thank you for today, Andy. I'm glad I went. This is one of the best parts of being home again. Whether it's a funeral or some other event, it is much better when you're among friends."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Polly decided to be ready for Doctor Ogden, since he planned to be in her apartment around seven thirty. She'd gotten up at five thirty, walked the dog, taken a quick shower and then spent a great deal of time with her wardrobe and makeup for the day. She checked herself out in the mirror and thought "I'll do!" She had tried to stay subtle with her makeup, not wearing more than most days, but just enough eye liner and mascara to help her eyes look wide awake. Her hair did exactly what she'd hoped as she brushed it into place, light weight curls framing her face and nestling on her shoulders. The deep violet blue sweater was a perfect color for her and black denim jeans brushed the tops of the black ankle high boots. Yep. She'd do.
Polly put an apron on and mixed a glaze for the cinnamon apple muffins, which were cooling on the counter. The coffee was brewing and she had grabbed a couple of covered paper cups from the downstairs kitchen so he could take everything to go if he didn't have time to sit down to eat. She checked her watch and saw that it was seven twenty-five. The muffins were ready, the coffee was ready and even the animals seemed ready for company. Pulling her apron back off, she hung it on a hook in the pantry closet, smoothed her sweater and fluffed her hair one more time. Now, even she was ready.
She sat down at the dining room table to wait and caught herself tapping her foot. She stood and paced until she found herself at the sofa. She sat down beside Obiwan and rubbed his shoulders for a few moments. Next, she checked on the cats in her bedroom and found them wrestling on her bed. It had been a week since surgery and Polly hoped Leia really was fine.
She'd spent an hour last night cleaning her bedroom. Mary would have been ashamed of her. She'd once laughingly told Polly whenever she was late to breakfast that the piles of junk and clothes in Polly's room might be hiding her body. She tried, she really did. Polly blamed it on not having enough storage, but she knew better. By week's end, there were always empty drawers in her dresser. The worst thing was, the hamper was empty as well.
Things had been so busy she hadn't done laundry over the weekend. Last night her room had been horrendous. Clothes had tried to creep out into the living room, but she'd managed to wrangle and clean everything and felt pretty proud of the place. Polly checked her watch again. Seven thirty-seven. She rolled her eyes and chuckled. If a messy bedroom was a vice, punctuality was another. She tried to be patient with those who were never on time, because she knew it was an obsession of hers.
Both cats stopped wrestling and ran out into the living room, jumping up onto the back of the sofa. Luke leaped up and over Obiwan, whose ears had perked up. He jumped down and walked over to the front door, wagging his tail.
"Well," she said. "I guess you are my doorbell. Shall we let him in?"
Polly opened the entryway door, catching Mark in the process of raising his hand to ring the bell.
"The animals heard you coming. I didn't mean to startle you."
Obiwan sniffed at the veterinarian's boots, not letting him move without trying to smell him.
"I know, guy. Those boots see more animals than you even know yet," he said, while kneeling down. "Let's see how you're doing."
Polly realized they weren't going to make it too far into the apartment, so she flipped on the light in the entry.
Mark peeled off the bandage and began manipulating the foot.
He looked up at her and said, "It's going to be fine. The wound is healing nicely and I don't think we need to replace this."
Polly held her hand out for the dirty bandage and he said, "Thanks. He was lucky you were right there with him. We see a few of these things happen every year about this time." Mark gave Obiwan a hug around the neck before he
stood up. "I'd keep an eye on the creek for a few more days. Dan said the trapper would be checking things next weekend and would pull out the traps bordering your property."
"Thank you for taking care of that, Mark. I appreciate it." Polly crumpled the bandage in her fist and said, "Well, come all the way in, then. Would you like a muffin or some coffee?"
"Thanks! I didn't get breakfast this morning, but I have a soda in the truck. I don't drink coffee," he replied.
"What?" she laughed. "I thought everyone in this town was completely addicted to the stuff."
"I feel embarrassed some days," he said. "Wherever I go, they offer me coffee. Maybe when I grow up, I'll learn to drink it."
"Do you have a minute to sit down or do you need to check the cat and run? If you have to hurry, I could pack up a couple of muffins for you."
"I'd love to stay, but I'm expected out at Harrison's barn this morning." He walked over and scooped Leia up off the back of the sofa. She and Luke had taken positions at either end and were eyeing him warily.
Polly pulled out her collection of plastic ware, finding a square container and lid. She packed four muffins in the container, then rummaged in a cupboard, finding a small brown paper bag with handles. The muffins and some napkins went inside and she walked back into the living room.
"She's doing fine," he announced. "Let her play with the big boys now that the stitches are out."
"What?" Polly asked.
"It was easy. I just pulled them out. She's ready to go. Keep an eye on her and if anything seems abnormal, let us know, but we do these all the time."
"Thank you! I'll take care of this with Marnie, but what can I do to thank you for coming over here?" she asked him.
He paused, as if thinking. "You could make me dinner tonight and let me teach you how to dance before the big day on Saturday." A small smile quirked the corners of his lips and he put his hand out to take the bag from Polly.
A Big Life in a Small Town (Bellingwood #2) Page 13