by Diane Noble
“Pumpkin-show ladies?” Kate grinned as she chased a piece of sausage around her bowl. “I think they’ll like that. And there’s already a building committee in place? That’s great.”
“I hadn’t thought of getting a committee together, other than the church board, but Eli suggested it. He even said he would be happy to head it up.”
“That is a blessing,” Kate said. When Paul didn’t respond, she studied his expression. “Something tells me you’re not okay with all this.”
He leaned back in his chair. “It hasn’t even been a week since the fire, but the folks of Copper Mill are moving fast. Building committees forming, fund-raising efforts begun...” He shook his head slowly. “In San Antonio, this sort of thing would have taken weeks to get off the ground. It feels, well, uncomfortable somehow.”
“Maybe it’s simply because you’ve always liked to mull things over, Paul.” She stood to clear the table. “Plan everything down to the wart on a gnat’s knee before moving forward.”
“But I want to make sure the plans are right,” he said.
“And that God is in it,” she added.
“Amen!”
ELI WESTON ARRIVED AT FIVE. She guessed him to be in his early thirties, younger than she expected.
“Please, come in,” she said.
He stood there for a moment, staring down at Kisses, who was standing, ears back, beside Kate’s ankle, growling. Kate took in Eli’s husky build, shock of blond hair, brown eyes magnified by tortoiseshell glasses, and shy smile. She liked him before he said a word. Apparently, Kisses didn’t.
“Hey, little tamale,” Eli said. “You still mad at me?”
Eli knelt and reached out his hand. The Chihuahua tentatively moved toward him, more sideways than forward. Eli rubbed the dog behind his ears, then looked up at Kate. “This little brain packs a powerful punch for such a small body.” He stood. “Renee stopped by the shop the other day to browse. I was leading her into the parlor to show her some really cool European crystal. Didn’t realize the little dog was following me. I stepped backward and, well, oops...” He looked down at Kisses again and sighed. “My grandmother always said I was more a Joe Namath than a Mikhail Baryshnikov when it came to making my way through a room.”
Kate grinned. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Joe Namath was pretty nimble in his day. Quarterbacks have to be.”
He was looking at the Chihuahua again. “Anyway, bud. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
Kisses growled again and hid behind Kate’s foot.
Kate laughed. “We’re not going to let this little guard dog keep you out in the cold. Please, come in. How about some hot chocolate? Tea? Coffee?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a soda, would you?”
“Absolutely,” Kate said.
He doffed his raincoat as Paul came up behind Kate. The men shook hands, and Kate hung the coat on the hall rack, then the three headed to the kitchen, followed by the Chihuahua.
Kate put a plate of cookies on the table, poured coffee, and grabbed a soda from the refrigerator.
Eli reached for a cookie and took a bite. After he complimented Kate on her baking skills, he said, “I realize you don’t know me, so maybe I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.” His big shoulders drooped, and the shy smile appeared again. “I’m not on the church board or anything. And truth be told, I haven’t even been to services in a while, but I can’t stand by and not at least offer to help. When I saw what happened to our church, well, words just can’t describe...” His voice fell off.
“You have no idea what a gift your offer is—to the church and to me personally,” Paul said. “Someone with your background will be a tremendous resource.” He took a sip of his coffee and reached for a cookie himself.
“I’m not an expert,” Eli said. “Far from it.” Kate handed him the plate of cookies, and he took two. “I was in the construction business for four years. It was pretty cool. Loved the outdoors, the hard work. Thrived on it. Then a couple of things happened at the same time. My grandfather died and left me his home and business—Weston’s Antiques. At first I was scared spitless. What was I going to do with a shop full of stuff I could break just by looking at it?” He laughed and reached for another cookie. “Not long after, I fell off a roof and twisted my back. Weston’s Antiques became my saving grace.”
“I think I’ve seen it on my way into town,” Kate said. “An old house with a white picket fence. Is that it?”
The shop had intrigued her with its old-fashioned rocking chairs on the front porch, lace curtains in the windows, a water pump by the brick walkway, and scrolled gas street lamps flanking the front steps.
Eli smiled. “That’s it. The house has been in the family for years. Belonged to my grandfather. It would have gone to my parents, but they moved away, so he decided to leave it to me.” A shadow crossed his face, then quickly disappeared. “He died without knowing about my back injury, or that I appreciated his gift more than he could have imagined.”
At Kate’s feet, a sharp yip announced that someone was at the front door, even before the doorbell rang. The little dog took off so fast across the linoleum that he skidded into the refrigerator. But he was up in a shot and barked all the way to the foyer.
Kate knew before she opened the door that she would find Renee Lambert on the other side.
Renee stepped in, picked up the little dog, and hugged him close, murmuring something about “sweet little umpkins” and what a “big bad world” it could be when “mommy” wasn’t near.
Kate was glad Paul wasn’t within earshot; it would have been difficult to keep a straight face.
“Come in, come in,” she said to Renee. “We’re just having some coffee and cookies. Eli Weston is here.”
Renee visibly shuddered at the word coffee. “Really, I thought I told you that it’s terrible for the—”
“Oh yes, of course. Then how about some tea? I’ve cleared off the stovetop and found my teakettle.”
“Eli Weston?”
“Yes, we’re talking about the church. Come sit down with us. I made cook—”
“He nearly killed Kisses.”
“He told us about the accident.”
“I thought for sure his little foot was crushed. It broke my heart to hear him yelp the way he did.” She shook her head. “It was terrible. He limped for days and still wakes up with nightmares.”
Kate didn’t ask how Renee knew what the little dog was dreaming about. “I’m sure Eli didn’t mean to—”
“He should have taken greater care. There’s no excuse. Distracted. He always seems distracted. And, really, I’m not so certain I can sit down at the same table with the man.”
But she obviously didn’t take her own threat seriously, because, chin in the air, she marched toward the kitchen. “I’ll take that cup of tea,” she said over her shoulder. “Earl Grey with natural sugar. Three cubes. And half-and-half, warmed.”
She sat down with a heavy sigh, put her monogrammed Gucci tote on the table, then glared at Eli, who gave her a friendly smile in return.
The Chihuahua curled up by Eli’s boot, put his chin on the toe, and whimpered. Bending over, he scooped up the little dog and held him close. Kisses licked Eli’s cheek. Kate resisted exchanging a glance with Paul, who stood to serve more coffee.
“Hunh!” Renee said, her lips in a tight line.
PAUL AND KATE were getting ready for bed when the phone rang. Sitting on the edge of the mattress in his pajamas, Paul picked up the receiver.
“No, you didn’t disturb us, Renee.”
He listened for a few minutes, then said, “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate your thoughts.”
When he hung up, he looked at Kate. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“Renee called to tell me I’ve made a mistake.”
“Dare I ask what now?” Kate said, rolling her eyes.
“She thinks Eli Weston shouldn’t head up the
building committee. She said he’s had some legal battles over his inheritance as well as some other issues to deal with, though she didn’t tell me what, and I didn’t ask. He’s distracted much of the time, according to Renee. Her proof? He stepped on little umpkins who was in plain sight.”
Paul stood, walked over to the closet, and grabbed his robe. “She did say that if Eli can stop moping around, he might be up to the job.”
“She actually thinks someone can do a good job?” Wonder of wonders. Though Kate bit her tongue and didn’t say so. She was getting worried about how Renee Lambert seemed to have the innate ability to bring on these decidedly uncharitable responses. She quickly breathed a prayer for grace and promised herself she would be more careful.
Paul padded down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth. “No, she didn’t say that exactly,” he called over his shoulder. He stopped in the doorway and looked back. “You know Renee. The emphasis was definitely on the word if. If Eli gets over the moping, then he might be up to the job.”
Moping? Kate certainly didn’t detect any brooding behavior in the young man. He was reserved, perhaps a bit shy, but very sure of himself as he discussed the construction business with Paul. She admired that in someone so young. She could tell it was a career he loved and probably hated to leave.
She was sitting up in bed reading when Paul returned. “I was just thinking about Eli,” she said as he slid under the covers. “Going from construction—enjoying the outdoors, doing hard manual labor, hands-on, rough-and-tough work—to selling delicate antiques had to have been quite a blow for him.”
Paul reached for a book. “Serious back trouble would be hard for any young man to take. I think I’d mope too.”
“Yet he’s willing to endure what still must be a painful condition to help this little church in its time of need.” She reached up to turn out her light. “Isn’t it amazing how God uses the most unlikely of us—”
“To bring about his purpose,” Paul said, closing his book.
Kate fell asleep thinking about God’s grace, how he accepted her, warts and all, and how she needed to try harder to accept others, especially Renee Lambert. It seemed an impossible task.
Chapter Nine
The phone rang just as Kate finished her morning quiet time. She had been up since before dawn, unable to sleep, with a myriad of thoughts and concerns whirling through her mind. She knew from experience that her early mornings with God nourished her soul and gave her spirit rest.
The phone rang again. Paul was outside getting the morning paper, so she put aside her Bible, headed for the kitchen, and grabbed the receiver on the fourth ring.
“Kate, it’s me,” said a loud whisper. Me? Kate ran through the list of possibilities. Livvy’s voice matched her petite size: bright, cheerful, and expressive. Renee’s was low-pitched and raspy. LuAnne’s was softly Southern and friendly, the kind of voice that sounded like she was smiling.
It was LuAnne. “Good morning,” Kate said.
“They’re here—at the diner!”
“Who?”
“The two men from that resort company—the ones I told you about.”
“Oh yes, of course.”
Paul came around the corner with the Chronicle. He grinned, gave her a quick good-morning kiss on the cheek, and tossed the paper on the table. He mimed “No coffee?” which she confirmed with a shake of the head. He pulled out the grinder and retrieved a bag of whole beans from the refrigerator. A whir followed, and a lovely fragrance wafted toward Kate.
“And just as we thought, they’re up to no good.”
“What have you found out?”
“Well, I’ll get to that. But, darlin’, I just know we’re onto something. You should see how they’re behavin’. Those two fat city-slicker felines look like they just swallowed a whole cageful of canaries.” Kate could hear the clatter of dishes and utensils in the background. “Darlin’, I’m gonna have to go. But I just wanted you to know what they said.”
“You didn’t tell me what they said.”
“Oh, I didn’t? Well, silly me. That was the main reason I called. One told the other he has an insider working with him to get the church land. Those were his exact words—‘I’ve got an insider working with me.’”
Kate’s heart twisted. “Who could it be?” And how could it be? How could someone from Copper Mill betray their community this way? Then she paused. “Maybe he meant an insider in some government agency, something like that. Not the community.”
LuAnne chuckled. “Well, I could ask, but I don’t think they’ll tell me.”
Kate hung up, then sat down across from Paul and told him what LuAnne had said.
His expression was grave, but it wasn’t from her news. He handed her the newspaper. Across the top of page one, the two-inch headline read: ARSONIST’S IDENTITY DISCOVERED.
She skimmed the few paragraphs, then looked up at Paul. “They’ve used the same information Livvy and I found out. Nothing new.”
He nodded. “What bothers me is that they’re so hard on him. It doesn’t matter about the brilliant, rising star he used to be. All that matters is what he did now.”
She leaned in closer to the newspaper, examining the pictures reprinted from his high-school glory days, side by side with his mug shot. “What I wonder, Paul, is what happened during those years he was away from Copper Mill. Say he did start the fire. Why? Why would someone as bright and talented as he obviously was take this turn?” She poured coffee for them both.
“Maybe things didn’t work out for him the way he thought they should. Sometimes that happens. Kids rise to stardom too early, especially if they’re big fish in little ponds. They can never have that kind of adulation or glory again, and they end up bitter and disappointed, nursing a sense of failure because they can never achieve that sort of stardom again. They often blame everyone else, even God, for their own shortcomings.”
Paul had a point. She thought about it for a moment, then said, “What about Worldwide Destination Resorts? Do you think there might be a connection?”
Paul nodded slowly. “J.B. doesn’t really qualify as an ‘insider,’ but maybe there’s someone else who then spotted him as someone to do his dirty work.”
She shook her head. “It could have been the perfect storm—the coming together of all the elements that make for disaster: J.B.’s anger, his need for money, the opportunity to get even with God.” She paused, thinking through the possibilities. “I need to go back.”
“To see J.B.?”
“I need to find out what happened during those missing years.”
“Do you think he’ll tell you?”
“No. That’s why my first stop will be the library to do some more digging.”
LIVVY WAS AT THE FRONT DESK when Kate arrived. She looked surprised to see Kate at the library so early.
“I’m in dire need of a high-speed Internet connection. Do you have a computer I can use?”
“Mi casa es su casa,” Livvy said with a laugh. “And our computers too.”
“We’ve got one, but by the time it hits a Web site, it’s so slow I’ve forgotten what I was looking for.”
“You’re welcome to ours anytime.”
As they climbed the stairs, Livvy explained the layout of the library. Kate could see the pride in Livvy’s eyes as she pointed out their modern reference room, the nonfiction stacks, microfiche machines with old editions of the Copper Mill Chronicle, the collections of historical documents about the town, and a bank of high-speed computers.
Livvy left Kate sitting at the computer bank and headed back downstairs. Seconds later Kate typed in “J.B. Packer,” then looked at the search results. One by one, she clicked the mouse on each link. The first four were real-estate agents, the fifth was someone looking for members of the same family tree. None of the next twenty-three looked promising, but she opened the sites anyway to see if there might be the slightest bit of information leading to Packer’s whereabouts during the missing years.
Livvy reappeared at her elbow with two cups of coffee from the librarian’s lounge. “Any luck?”
Kate shook her head. “Not so far.” She clicked on the last listing and leaned closer. “Is this the Web site where you found the earlier info?”
Livvy looked over her shoulder. “No. This is different, but it’s got some of the same information—his high-school achievements...” She paused, letting out a whistle. “And look at this...He was a national merit scholar. That’s new information.”
“And this.” Kate’s heart picked up rhythm as she read the heading: “J.B. Packer receives a four-year scholarship to...” The line broke off with a link to another Web site, where the article supposedly continued.
Only it didn’t. She clicked on the link, and nothing happened. “Scholarship to where?” she wanted to shout. But instead, she counted to ten, went back to the original site, and read through the article again. This time she whistled. “Listen to this, Livvy. The gist of the article has to do with scouts from major colleges and universities around the country. On this particular night, which was an all-star game, scouts attending the game were from the University of Michigan, Ohio State, USC, and UCLA.”
She grinned up at Livvy, who was still standing behind her, reading over her shoulder.
“How does this help?” Livvy asked, frowning.
“If he played ball for one of these schools, maybe his name will turn up in the archives of the school papers.”
Livvy was grinning now. “You’re good.”
“You keep saying that, but this doesn’t mean we’ll get anywhere.” She took a sip of coffee and went back to work. First she plugged in the information for the University of Michigan. Nothing. Then she tried Ohio State’s Lantern. Nothing there, either. Next was UCLA. Nothing. And finally USC. Her heart thumping, she waited while the Daily Gamecock searched for J.B. Packer.
Still nothing.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Livvy said. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you need anything.”
Kate was ready to shut down the computer when she decided to try one more source. Maybe major newspapers in those cities featured the new recruits. Local fans loved that sort of thing. Human-interest stories, the backgrounds of the kids arriving at training camp...