Room at the Inn (Bellingwood #5.5)

by Diane Greenwood Muir

  Jason shook his head, "No thank you. We will do that."

  "I'll be right back," Leaving the jewelry on the counter, Simon walked toward the back of the store.

  "I was so nervous," Jason said. "I didn't know I could do that."

  "You can always bargain in a place like this. It doesn't work in regular stores, but when it comes to antiques, most shop owners are willing to strike a deal. Mr. Gardner must have been ready to sell that jewelry today. You did very well."

  "Do you have the money?" he asked.

  Polly handed him the cash. When Simon Gardner returned, he wrote out a receipt for the transaction, boxed up the jewelry into two plain white jewelry boxes, and placed them in a bag.

  "Thank you, boys. Stop in again to take a look at our toys. I'm always willing to negotiate!" he had said as they left the store.

  When they returned to Sycamore House, the boys had taken the necklace and earrings in and out of the boxes several more times. They'd stayed through supper and late into the evening since Sylvie was cooking for another holiday party. Both boys helped in the barn with evening chores. The donkeys were happy to see their new friends and Eliseo continued to teach Andrew how to lead Tom. Polly had been glad to finally see them go home though, ready to simply sit on her sofa and read a book.

  Now, she sat at her desk, watching the clock. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer, grabbed her keys and cut through the kitchen for the garage. She was just going to sit in the background until she had to talk. Her heart felt like it was crawling into her throat as she pulled in. Without giving it much more thought, she made sure she had the package and walked across the parking lot.

  They were meeting in the basement of the church and she was greeted by noise and background Christmas music. She found a chair at an empty table and quickly sat down.

  "Now it is time for our poinsettia giveaway," the woman standing at the front of the room said. "Each person should take a slip of paper with a number on it from the bowl at your table."

  Rustling was heard around the room as the bowls were passed.

  "All of the numbers should be taken. If you don't have eight people at your table, someone will have to take two." She waited while the ladies at the tables sorted themselves out. "I am going to choose a number between one and eight and that person will take home the poinsettia from their table. Are you ready?"

  The women each held up their numbers and waited. "It's number four! If you have the number four, then you get to take the poinsettia with you when you leave. You can thank the Men's Club for their gift to our party today."

  "We aren't finished yet," she continued. "There are other door prizes. The first is a beautiful nativity scene, hand painted by Amber Grossman. Have you finished your Christmas shopping?"

  There was muttering and laughter around the room. "If you are buying presents for at least three children under the age of eighteen, stand up." Nearly everyone in the room stood. "Now, if you are buying for at least five children under the age of eighteen, stay standing, the rest can be seated." Many were still standing and as she increased the number of children, more people sat down until the woman who was purchasing gifts for twenty-three children under that age was standing and blushing.

  "Lily Biggerstaff, you have a lot of grandchildren in your life. Congratulations! You deserve this nativity set."

  "It might end up being one of the gifts," the woman laughed.

  "We usually have a door prize for the oldest and the youngest person in attendance, but last year I got into trouble for embarrassing our ladies about their age," the emcee announced.

  A few women grumbled, "I'm proud of how old I am," someone said, while others quietly clapped.

  "So rather than have you admit your age, I am going to present this gift," she held up a wrapped package, "to the youngest guest with us today, Miss Laney Griffith, who is here with her grandmother. Since her grandmother brought the little cherub, she will receive the adult gift." She waited while the packages were handed to the winners and then said, "Now, Lydia Merritt has asked for a few moments. When she spoke with me about this, I heartily agreed. I think you'll like the end to today's program. Lydia?" She stepped aside as Lydia came forward.

  "Good morning, ladies!" Lydia said, and the entire room loudly responded, "Good morning, Lydia!"

  She smiled at them and began. "I've asked Polly Giller to join us. She has a little mystery and I told her that you might be able to help her solve it. You will love the story and if you can, you will want to help. Polly, could you come up here?"

  As Polly walked toward the front, Lydia said, "I think you all know who Polly is. She purchased the old schoolhouse last year and has transformed that corner of Bellingwood into something beautiful. Many of you helped with the garden this summer and others of you have enjoyed receptions with your daughters and granddaughters in Sycamore House's auditorium. We're glad you've joined us, Polly." Lydia said and began to clap. The women joined her while Polly stood there feeling terribly embarrassed.

  "I'm not sure how to begin," Polly said. "I purchased an old dresser at the Antique Shoppe and discovered a package stuck to the inside top of the dresser. In that package was an old Christmas card, some photographs and a letter. I'd like to pass the card and the photographs around while I read the letter to you."

  She handed the pictures and card to Lydia, who passed them to several tables in front. The women looked at the photographs while Polly read the letter out loud to them.

  "My dear Marian Jeanine," she began and when she finished, her voice cracked with emotion. Most of the women watched her while others peered at the photographs before passing them on.

  "The nurse's name was Beatrice Hogan, but I don't know anything about little Marian Jeanine. I'd love to get these pictures and her mother’s final letter to her, but I need help."

  Lydia stepped up beside her. "I told her that many of you might remember this. We figure it has to have been in the mid to late nineteen fifties. The mother was a war bride and the brothers were several years older. What terrible accident happened that killed a family, leaving the baby alive with only a few mementos?"

  Several of the older women got up and moved to other tables, talking among themselves. Soon, one of them spoke up.

  "They weren't from Bellingwood. This happened over around Pilot Mound."

  Another joined in, "It was in all the papers. It was nineteen fifty-six. I remember because my Amy was three years old, too. The same age as the little girl. Their house exploded. I don't remember the details. But, the little girl was still in the car when it happened. It was at Christmas. They had just gotten home from the store and were unloading groceries. The poor boys were both in the house. The father was at the door and the mother hadn't quite gotten there. If she had been carrying the girl instead of groceries, all of them would be gone."

  "But what happened to the little girl?" another woman asked.

  "What was their name?" Lydia asked.

  A woman that Polly knew quite well, Adele Mansfield, spoke up. "It was Detweiler. Norman and Julie Detweiler."

  "How did you remember that?" one of the women asked.

  "My brother was a volunteer fireman. He stopped after that experience. It was the worst thing he'd ever seen. The house was gone by the time they got there. The little girl was screaming when they found her. She was walking around in the cold and trying to wake her mother up. That poor woman didn't live very long. The burns were too awful."

  "Do you know where she ended up?" Polly asked.

  "There wasn't any family. Maybe friends took her."

  "That doesn't make any sense," Lydia interjected. "Why wouldn't this nurse have given them the card and letter so Marian could have it later on?"

  "Maybe they didn't tell her she was adopted," a woman said snidely. "Maybe they wanted her to think they were her family."

  "But she was three. She would have remembered an explosion that big. How would she ever forget her first family?"

  "I do
n't know. Don't you have enough information now? Can't we have lunch? It's ready," the woman said. "I have things to do this afternoon. If the rest of you want to help with this, go ahead, but some of us don't know anything about it and we don't care."

  "You're right," Lydia said calmly. "We should eat. And besides, Reverend Boehm has just walked in to bless the meal." She looked up at the pastor who was standing in the back of the room and he simply raised his hands while the women bowed their heads.

  "Thank you, dear Lord, for this gathering and for the food we are about to share. May it bless our bodies and may our fellowship bless our hearts and may our words bless your ears, O God. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen."

  The woman who had led the meeting stood and said, "We will start with the left side of the room. Enjoy your meal, ladies and thanks for coming! Merry Christmas!"

  She turned to Polly, "I'm sorry. But I think you have a small contingent who would like you to spend more time with them."

  "Thank you," Polly replied.

  Lydia said, "Bite your tongue, dear. Ignore the mean lady."

  "How are you so nice?"

  "Years and years of practice. Now come with me. Your old friend Adele has some people you should meet."

  Polly had met Adele Mansfield at a slumber party Lydia threw when Polly first came to town. Adele held a special place in Polly's heart because her sister had known Mary Shore, the woman who stepped in to care for Polly after her mother died.

  Adele stood and hugged Polly. "We love this little mystery of yours. Now, did we collect all the photographs?" Polly flipped through them and glancing around the tables, saw one more. The table was empty of people, so she stepped over and picked it up.

  "We have them all now," she said.

  "Sit with us. You'd think they'd let us old ladies go first, but some of those younger gals are oh, so busy."

  The other ladies at the table laughed out loud and introduced themselves. Polly tried desperately to ensure that she had faces and names together, but it was all a blur. There were six women with Adele and they began chattering about the explosion and the stories that had cropped up during that time.

  Polly asked, "Does anyone know Beatrice Hogan?"

  "She was probably a nurse in Boone. That's where they would have taken her. I recall she was dying and everybody knew it. There were stories about how she wouldn't leave because she didn't want to be far from her daughter," one of the women said.

  "Do you suppose that was Beatrice Livengood? She was a nurse down there," another woman said. "She married Manny Livengood. She died about five years ago."

  "That's when Simon Gardner said he got the dresser," Polly encouraged them.

  "Then that's who it was. They had a heck of a time cleaning out her house. She saved every scrap of paper."

  "Which is probably why that package got jammed into the top of the dresser," Polly said. "I wonder if she just forgot it, or it got lost and she thought it was gone."

  "That makes sense," Adele nodded. "Now, if the little girl did go to live with family friends, they probably kept her name the same. Pilot Mound is only ten miles west of here. Isn't Nina Black from there? She'd know about this. Let me make a call."

  Adele dug around in her purse and pulled out a very nice smart phone. Polly looked at it in surprise and the woman laughed. "My grandkids think I'm cool because I have this. I hate to admit how long it took me to figure out how to use it. But at least we can video chat with it and I can see their little faces."

  "I think you're cool!" Polly said. "You figured that out on your own?"

  "Well, I might be old, but I'm not stupid," the woman retorted.

  "No, I mean, that's awesome. Oh, I'm messing this up. Most of the time kids complain about how their parents don't know anything about technology and they have to program their DVD players for them and help with their computers."

  "Not me," Adele said. "If I own a gadget, I will learn how to use it. I'm not ready to fade away and let my children feed me pudding. I'm going to step out and make this call."

  The other women stood to get in line for food and Lydia turned to Polly, "I told you this group could help."

  "Should we get some food?" Polly asked. "It looks wonderful."

  The two of them were in line when Adele slipped in behind her and whispered. "I have the information you're looking for. Nina Black remembered everything. Your Marian Jeanine lives with her husband just five miles east of here on a farm. Her last name is now Maxwell. I even have her phone number."

  Polly stopped mid-scoop over a macaroni salad. "You found her? Just like that?"

  "I told you!" Lydia laughed.

  "Should we tell the group?" Polly asked.

  "No, not yet. If you tell these women, someone will be on Marian Maxwell's doorstep before you get back to Sycamore House. We'll let them stew about it. They'll know soon enough.

  It was all Polly could do to sit quietly and eat. She sat beside Adele and reached over to squeeze her hand. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you!"

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Escaping as soon as she could, Polly's headed back to Sycamore House. She dialed Henry's phone as she went upstairs.

  "Hey, pretty girl, what's up?"

  "We found her. She lives five miles west of here."

  "You found her? That's amazing! Does she know she's found?"

  "No, not yet. Lydia was right, though. That woman's group has information on everyone!"

  He laughed. "It's a little frightening, isn't it? So, what’s next?"

  "I have no idea."

  "Well, what do you want to do?"

  "My stomach is all tied up in knots. Where are you?"

  "Polly, I’ve got good news, too. I just left Ed Greeves' office. He's getting the details together on that motel for us."

  "Really? Wow! Can you come over?"

  "I'm on my way."

  "I'm taking the dog outside. I'll meet you out back in a few minutes," Polly said and hung up.

  Obiwan was waiting for her when she went into her apartment and they ran down the back steps. He wandered to the tree line while she paced back and forth waiting for Henry. The truck finally rounded the corner onto the highway and she watched as he turned in the lane, parked in front of her garage and got out.

  She kissed him, "Can you believe it! This is so much fun!"

  "Which part?" he asked and bent over to rub Obiwan's head. The dog had run back when he saw that it was Henry.

  "All of it! Come upstairs so we can warm up."

  "So, how was your morning with the church ladies?" he asked.

  "Interesting. But I got a name and number. What should I do?"

  "You should call her. Maybe invite her over to dinner."

  "I could do that. When should I do it? I don’t want to wait."

  "Call her. Tell her who you are and why you're calling, then invite her over. She'll tell you when they're available."

  Polly dropped to the sofa and sat there, staring at her phone. "What if she doesn't care?"

  "Stop it. Now you're just making things up. Call her."

  "Okay, here I go." Polly dialed the number that Adele had given her and a man answered.

  "Hello, Maxwell residence," he said.

  "May I speak with Mrs. Maxwell?"

  "Just a minute." She heard him call out in the background. "Mother? Phone for you." Then he returned to the call, "She'll be right here. She's in the basement." A clunking sound told Polly the phone had been set down on a table.

  As she listened, she heard a woman's voice, "Who is it, Sam?"

  "I don't know. She asked for you," the man responded.

  "Hello, this is Marian."

  "Marian, this is Polly Giller. I own Sycamore House over in Bellingwood."

  "Yes, I've heard about you. You restored that old school house. We were planning to drive over tonight to see the Living Nativity and look at lights. How can I help you?"

  Polly took a deep breath. "If you are coming to Bellingwood tonight, cou
ld I invite you to my home for dinner? I would like to talk with you about something."

  There was silence on the other end of the call, then, "What in the world could you possibly want with me?"

  "Mrs. Maxwell, I found a package in an old dresser that I bought at the Antique Shoppe downtown. I think it might be pictures of you as a child. There's a Christmas card from Beatrice Hogan and in it is a letter she helped your mother write to you."

  "Oh my," the woman said and Polly heard her drop into a chair, then the man's voice say, "Mother, are you okay? Marian?"

  "I'm fine," the woman said quietly. "You have pictures of my family?" There was a catch in her voice.

  "I think so. I certainly hope that I have the right family."

  "Beatrice Hogan was my mother's nurse before she died. I heard from her several times through the years. She never said anything about pictures or a letter, though." The woman chuckled, "But then, she might have thought she'd already given them to my parents. I visited her once or twice and she wasn't all that tidy."

  "This was jammed in the top of the dresser like it had been on the top of a stack and gotten stuck when the drawer was opened."

  "After all these years," Marian Maxwell said quietly.

  "Would you and your husband like to come for dinner?"

  "Let me ask. Sam, would you mind going out to dinner tonight in Bellingwood? The gal who owns Sycamore House has some pictures and a letter that might be from my mother."

  The quality of tone was lost as she obviously put her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece and then she returned. "We would love to come. What time would you like us to be there?"

  "Will six thirty work for you?" Polly asked.

  "We'll be there. Should we just come in the front door?"

  "That will be fine. A young boy named Jason will be downstairs to greet you and show you to my apartment." It had just hit Polly that Sylvie worked tonight and she was responsible for Jason and Andrew. They would love being part of this.

  "We'll see you tonight. Thank you, Miss Giller."