Chime and Punishment
Page 26
The crowd clapped loudly, but I interrupted them. “As a special treat, we are giving you a preview of New Year’s Eve here on the first day of summer. On the hour, not only will the bell chime, but four”—Nadia held up her hand, showing all her fingers—“sorry, five figures will come out from that door, do a turn, and go back in. On New Year’s Eve, they’ll do that automatically with the rest of the clock. Today, the great team of Pat Reed and Zane Phillips, the dynamic duo who have been working with me on the tower, will manually show you what it is going to look like. The first two figures will be my grandparents, Mae and Thom Clagan. Beckett Green sponsored the third figure. And the fourth figure was chosen by Caroline Adler. I have no idea what the fifth figure is, but I look forward to seeing it. Thanks to Nadia Wint, you’ll be able to see close-ups of the figures on our website as soon as the clock strikes noon. But for now, enjoy the preview of the big show. Which will happen in thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight . . .”
The crowd joined in and helped us all count down to five, four, three, two, one. There was silence as we all watched the clock hands come together, and then the bell ringing its slow, methodical clang. Twelve bells. The new bell was a vast improvement over the old one. It was much louder too, though I didn’t really mind. The Clagan Clock Tower should be heard for miles around. When the last bell chimed I let go of my breath. I turned around and threw my arms around Ben’s neck. He picked me up and swung me around.
“We did it!” I said to him breathlessly.
“You did it, Ruth. The bells will never be quiet again. Wait. Here comes the rest of the show.”
The doors opened, and the figure of my grandfather came out. If you didn’t know him, you would have seen a craftsman wearing a buffalo plaid work shirt, with a cog in one hand and a hammer in the other. The arms moved around in their sockets, and I suspected they would be doing more before January. Next out was my grandmother, wearing her flowered dress, a cog in one hand and flywheel in the other. I loved that Zane had made her an active participant to the clock making. Zane and Pat gave each figure a minute to be out there by itself, to get its own applause. The crowd was roaring. Next out was the Beckett figure—except it wasn’t.
“That’s you!” Ben said.
I looked up at the zany red curls, magnifying work glasses, and string of cogs and wheels that wove around me as if I were a living Christmas tree. I hopped off the platform and jogged over to Beckett.
“That’s me,” I said. I couldn’t believe it. My heart was bursting, and I impulsively gave Beckett a hug. He returned it, then let me go.
“Of course it is,” Beckett said. “I hope you’ll forgive the whimsy of the piece. You look a bit like a mad scientist up there.”
“It looks like me. Thank you, Beckett. I’m really honored.”
“My absolute pleasure, Ruth. Congratulations on today. Thank you for including me in it.”
“Of course,” I said. “You’re a business owner. And a member of the Board of Selectmen now. Congratulations on that, by the way.”
“An honor you helped with by not accepting the job.”
“Listen, I have my hands full with the tower, and the business.”
“And dating the new town manager would be a conflict of interest.”
“There’s that. But he’s only interim town manager.”
“As far as I’m concerned, he’s got the job if he wants it. Moving to Orchard has changed me, Ruth. Took me a while to accept that. I kept thinking I needed to change Orchard. Kim had me convinced that hers was the only path forward. I was wrong. You and Ben have a better vision for what this town can be. Should be.”
I linked my arm through Beckett’s. “We’re in it together.”
Ben jumped down and stood next to me. “How great is that?”
I looked back at the clock tower. I’d missed the emergence of the fourth figure, Caroline’s choice. Harry Clagan came out, white shirt and tie, holding a large cog. The smile was the one the photo on the shop had, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled that Caroline had included him. The final figure came out. It was a figure of Bezel, carrying a cog in her mouth. The five figures weren’t moving, but they would be by New Year’s. Maybe Zane was right, and we needed to add some music for them to dance to.
I clapped along with everyone else. Ben scooped me back into his arms, and I gave him a big kiss.
“Whoever would have guessed?” I said, hugging him tight. “Dreams do come true.”
about the author
Julianne Holmes is the author of Just Killing Time, the Agatha-nominated debut novel in the Clock Shop Mysteries, and is the pseudonym for J. A. (Julie) Hennrikus, whose short stories have appeared in the award-winning Level Best Books. She serves on the boards of Sisters in Crime and Sisters in Crime New England, and is a member of Mystery Writers of America. She lives in Somerville, Massachusetts, and blogs with the Wicked Cozy Authors at wickedcozyauthors.com. Visit the author at julianneholmes.com.
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