A Man of His Word

by Karen Kelly

  Alice leaned over to put the back of her hand against Annie’s forehead. “The fever is definitely back. You feel pretty warm.” She looked into Annie’s eyes. “A little glassiness to your eyes too. Did you take something for the fever?”

  Annie nodded and pointed to a small bottle on the side table. She wrote, “Thirty minutes ago.”

  “If I warm you up a little soup, do you think you could eat it?” Though the fever had returned, it wasn’t nearly as high as it had been a couple days earlier. Alice hoped some nourishment would help Annie’s body fight off the illness.

  Annie nodded again and then scribbled, “Fennel-and-apple, please.”

  “That’s Gwen’s soup, right?” The first time Gwen had offered Annie fennel-and-apple soup, she only tried it to be polite. She had been thankful she had, as the soup was delicious and smooth. It was perfect for someone with a sore throat.

  Annie wrote under her last note. “Want some?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Alice said, grinning. “Haven’t eaten since breakfast.” Returning to the kitchen, Alice warmed up some of the soup, and found some soft rolls in the freezer, which she popped into the oven to heat. Then she put water on to boil for tea with honey and lemon to help soothe Annie’s throat.

  It wasn’t long before she brought the meal to Annie on one of Betsy’s serving trays, this one decorated with holly leaves and red berries. “If you’re up to it, I can bring you some rice pudding after the soup,” Alice said, setting the tray on the coffee table.

  “Save pudding for later,” Annie scribbled. “You’re welcome to some.”

  Annie sipped a spoonful of soup and swallowed gingerly. She nodded, thankful that her throat took the soup without too much irritation.

  “Do you think you’ll be strong enough for a visitor later?” Alice asked. “Peggy has figured out some of the clues, and she wants to tell you about them.”

  Annie’s eyes widened, and she set down her spoon and bowl to write on the board. “Wonderful! Will nap after lunch. Will be strong enough for visit.”

  “Good. I’ll let Peggy know. She’ll probably be here around five.” Alice bit into a warm roll.

  In between sips and bites, Alice told Annie about her busy week, and her efforts to find reasonable airfare to Florida for a family visit after Christmas. Once the women finished their meal, Alice cleaned the dishes and made sure Annie had a full tea mug and water nearby. After telling Annie she would be back to let Peggy in when she visited, Alice went home to work for a couple more hours.

  After catching up on her phone calls and paperwork, Alice was shocked to glance at the time on her computer and see it was already 4:55.

  I hope Peggy isn’t early! she thought as she dashed downstairs to grab her coat. Bursting through the break in the hedge that separated her cottage from Grey Gables, Alice saw Ian Butler’s sleek car turning into the driveway.

  As soon as the car came to a stop, Peggy popped out of the passenger’s side. “Hi, Alice!” Ian emerged more slowly.

  “Mr. Mayor, are you moonlighting as a chauffeur now?” Alice teased. “You might need to get some pointers from Jason.”

  “Well, I’m no Stella, you know,” Peggy blurted out before Ian could say anything. “Wally needed the truck to take Emily to her dance rehearsal. They’re dancing extra nights to get ready for the recital. So Mr. Mayor offered to bring me along.”

  “Annie’s a little better but still fighting that fever, and her voice hasn’t returned yet. So we’ll have to pay attention to see that she doesn’t get too tired.”

  Ian and Peggy both nodded. “I have a night meeting after dinner, so I don’t have long to linger. But I did get some information from the Maine Pulp and Paper Association.”

  Alice unlocked the door, pushed it half open and called out, “Annie, I have two visitors to see you.” Softly, she instructed Ian and Peggy to wait in the foyer while she checked if Annie was awake from her nap.

  Annie was still hunkered down on the couch, wide awake, all signs of glassiness gone from her eyes. She held up her board. “Bring them in!” Alice returned to the foyer.

  “Her ladyship will now receive her adoring public,” she told them, adorning her words with a quick curtsy.

  Peggy began to shrug off her coat, Ian smoothly reaching to slip it from her shoulders and hang it on the hall tree. She winked at the mayor. “Why do I suddenly feel like I should have worn my mama’s pearls?”

  Alice chuckled. “I think a germ mask might be more appropriate.”

  Annie’s face lit up when her friends filed into the living room. She held up her board, which was beginning to feel like a part of her daily accessories, like her reading glasses. “What’s new?”

  “Whose news do you want first?” asked Peggy.

  “Peggy, I think you should tell Annie what you’ve figured out,” suggested Ian. “It’s fascinating.”

  Annie’s eyes shifted back to Peggy, and she gave her friend a smile of encouragement.

  Peggy pulled out her copies of the spreadsheets. She explained to Annie all the clues she had tracked to Portland.

  A sparkle grew in Annie’s eyes, a contrast to the earlier feverish glaze. She uncapped her marker with a flourish to write on the board. “You’re a genius! Never would’ve figured that out!”

  Always uncomfortable with compliments, Peggy became a little flustered. “What I can’t figure out is why no one at the library caught the Grand Trunk clue. You’d think they would know all about the railroad right there in the city.”

  “Right,” Alice added, “and the two words were translated one right after the other.” She raised one shoulder in a slight shrug. “I guess we can’t expect them to know everything.”

  “So, Annie,” began Ian, who had been sending Boots into spasms of kitty ecstasy with his expert scratches and rubs, “you need to take good care of yourself, so we can get to Portland as soon as possible for a scavenger hunt.”

  The three ladies looked at him and each raised her eyebrows.

  The mayor stammered a little. “That is, if you’ll let me tag along.”

  Alice spoke for all of them. “Of course we will, Ian. We don’t know in what kind of neighborhoods some of these places are located. We might need a bodyguard.”

  Peggy nudged Ian. “Your turn, Mr. Mayor. What did you want to tell Annie?”

  Ian gave Boots one last scratch behind the ears and straightened. “I called a family friend who works at the Maine Pulp and Paper Association to see if he could give me any information on Oxford Fiber Industries. Perry told me Oxford is newly incorporated, but is the product of a merger between two much older companies.”

  Annie wrote on her board: “Were the companies in the folder from the Historical Society?”

  “I don’t think so.” Ian took a slip of paper from his shirt pocket and consulted it. “River Valley Timber Company merged with a Portland-based business, Briggs & Gerrish.”

  Alice and Peggy gasped.

  18

  “What?” asked Ian. “Have you heard of those companies?”

  Peggy was the first to find her voice. “Not the company, the name—Gerrish. That was the last name of the volunteer at the Historical Society library.”

  Alice continued. “He was the one who compiled the information on the pulpwood companies for us.”

  It was the mayor’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Do you think there’s a connection between the Gerrish family and the trial?”

  Annie scribbled on her board: “No mention of B&G in article Maude saved.” She’d read the article about a hundred times.

  “And I don’t remember Gwen saying she saw mention of it in any of the documents she saw at the library either,” added Alice. “Kate didn’t find anything in the Press Herald archives, either.”

  Peggy took a moment to think back over her research that day in Portland, and she shook her head. “I think it would have been impossible for any of us to see or hear the company name and not notice one of them was the
same as the man helping us.”

  “He was very interested when Gwen told him about William’s Bible,” said Alice. “But he could simply be a history geek, and the name is a coincidence.”

  Annie wrote: “Need judicial files from trial, not random clippings from newspapers. Am sure much left out.”

  Ian handed her the slip of paper for her records. “I agree. I suggest ordering the records through the Maine State Archives.”

  Annie erased her previous comment and wrote: “Where is the Archives?”

  “Augusta.”

  Annie slumped back against her pillows. Then wrote: “Will be a few days before I’m ready for road trip. Arg!”

  She was trying to be patient about her illness, but frustration was beginning to build.

  “The Archives has a website,” said Ian. “You may be able to order copies of the document files online. You don’t need to talk for that.”

  More writing: “Yes! Will try that.”

  “Good. I think all you need is the docket number.”

  Annie frowned and wrote: “Don’t have it.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Peggy. “Weren’t there some notations that were numbers besides the longitude and latitude ones?”

  “Yes, there were,” said Alice. “We had no idea what they might be, but maybe Peggy’s got something there. One of them might be the docket number.”

  Annie wrote: “Worth a try.”

  A smile broke across Ian’s face. “That’s the kind of spirit that will pave the way to a solved mystery.”

  Annie wrote: “That and a lot of help from friends!”

  Peggy speculated, “By the time the records come, you’ll probably be completely ready for a scavenger hunt in Portland.”

  “And we’ll introduce you to Mr. Gerrish too,” added Alice. “I’m sure we can think of a few questions for him.”

  “In the meantime, I’m going to see what I can find out about the history of Briggs & Gerrish,” Ian said. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find someone at the state Pulp and Paper Association whose family did business with them.”

  Annie wrote: “Thank you! You’ve both been big help. Thanks, Alice, for feeding me.”

  “Which reminds me,” said Alice. “I’ll stay and heat you up a little something for dinner before I go. You can save your energy for checking out the court documents online.”

  Peggy turned to Ian. “What time did you say your meeting is?”

  Ian looked at his watch. “I have just enough time to drop you at home and make it in good time. Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure am. Emily will be starved when she gets home from ballet, like always. Better get dinner on.” Peggy turned to Annie. “Take good care of yourself, Annie. Let me know if I can bring you anything.”

  Annie wrote: “Chicken soup was godsend.”

  “For both of us,” Alice added.

  “Why do you think I brought so much?” Peggy chuckled. “Can’t starve the nurse, can we?”

  “Absolutely not,” Ian agreed, with a playfully solemn look. “We wouldn’t want Alice to get worn down and sick too. I also don’t want to keep the committee members waiting, so I’ll wish you both a restful evening, and Annie—a quick recovery. Alice, let me know if there’s any way I can help you and your patient.”

  Annie waved goodbye to Peggy and Ian, and Alice followed them out to the foyer. “I will, Ian. Thanks for driving Peggy. Annie certainly appreciated the visit.”

  The visitors donned their coats and hats, and then headed for the door. Ian opened it and held it for Peggy, who turned to Alice for one last reminder. “Make sure Annie checks out those documents tonight. The closer we get to Christmas, the longer it will probably take to get them.”

  “I will, Peggy,” Alice promised. “Good night!”

  After the door closed and she had locked it, Alice returned to the living room. She asked Annie if she’d like the laptop brought to her to use while dinner was being prepared. Annie smiled and nodded. When Alice headed into the kitchen, Annie’s laptop rested on her afghan-covered legs as she stretched out on the sofa and opened her spreadsheet to have handy the number that might be the needed docket information.

  A little while later, Alice returned to the living room with dinner on a tray, Peggy’s soup the main course. Taking one look at Annie’s face, Alice said, “It was the docket number, wasn’t it? There’s a look of triumph and relief all over your face.” She handed a soup bowl to her.

  Annie nodded, wiping imaginary sweat off her brow with a flourish, and took the bowl eagerly. Her appetite had suddenly returned, though her voice had not.

  “I’ll be right back with our tea.” Back in the kitchen Alice pulled out her cellphone to give Peggy a quick call, letting her know the number had, indeed, been the docket number. She was confident Ian would be informed before mid-morning the next day. Then she checked to make sure the tea had steeped long enough and carried it out to the living room.

  The two women savored Peggy’s soup and the soft rolls Vanessa had baked. The silence was companionable, but Alice was reminded what a blessing her regular conversations with Annie were. She prayed for a quick recovery. The white board put a serious damper on their gabbing style.

  By the end of the meal it was obvious the excitement of her visitors and the new information they brought had taken its toll on Annie. Her eyelids were getting harder to hold open.

  “Let me help you upstairs, and then I’ll clean up our dinner dishes before leaving,” Alice told Annie, who nodded gratefully. Her “nurse” made sure there was plenty of water by her bed, in addition to a second cup of tea with lemon and honey, and a side dish of herbal throat lozenges. After checking her temperature and noting thankfully that Annie’s fever had lowered considerably in twenty-four hours, Alice told her friend good night.

  Downstairs, with Boots watching her every move, Alice made short work of the meal cleanup and refreshed the cat’s water bowl. Bending down, she gave her former foster kitty a thorough rubdown before departing. “Take good care of Annie tonight, Boots. There’s an extra portion of treats in it for you.”

  The fact she was prepared to bribe a cat showed her just how much she was missing her friend’s voice. Leaving a small lamp on in the foyer, just in case, Alice locked the front door behind her and dashed through the hedge to her cottage. She thought perhaps she should call it an early night too.

  ****

  By the following Wednesday Annie felt she had her feet firmly back in the land of the living—and her voice back in the land of the talking. Her throat had taken longer to recuperate than the rest of her, so Annie had used her silent energy to crochet as many sets of children’s hats, gloves, and mittens as the hours allowed. Alice had picked them up the day before and delivered them, along with her contributions, to A Stitch in Time before the Santa’s Stocking representative was scheduled to arrive. Annie was thankful her illness had not derailed her desire to show kindness to people who were in need.

  She had mailed her Christmas gifts, including the wonderfully quirky driftwood lamp Wally had created from John’s beach find, before she’d gotten sick. Now she found herself pondering what she should do with her day. Laundry was a given after being ill for so long. While the washing machine was churning on the first load, she did something she hadn’t been able to do for a while. She made a phone call.

  With her energy back to its regular level, she was eager to connect again with Elsa, and even Ron. She knew it was a late invitation, but she hoped they would still be able to come for dinner on Christmas Eve and attend the Stony Point Christmas Caroling event with her. To her delight her voice held out fine during the conversation, and Elsa accepted the invitation after briefly consulting her husband.

  As she hung up the phone, the doorbell rang. She opened the door to reveal the mail carrier, holding an oversized manila envelope, along with several smaller pieces of mail. “Hi, Annie. I didn’t want to mangle this trying to stuff it into your box.”

  Annie r
eached out for the bundle, her eyes darting to see the return address on the large envelope. It read “Maine State Archives.” So soon! “Thank you!” she exclaimed to the mailman. “I appreciate it so much.”

  “Keep warm,” he said, as he turned to continue his route as the air filled with snow flurries.

  “I think that might be harder for you than me.” Annie smiled as she stepped back into the heated house. The folks of her adopted town still treated her like a hothouse flower, thinking she couldn’t take Maine’s bitter winters. She was learning to be good-natured about it.

  Annie opened the smaller mail first, except the one that congratulated her on being selected for the “exclusive” credit card right on the front of the envelope, which she tossed into the trash can. Most of the envelopes contained Christmas cards from her friends in Texas. After enjoying the notes and letters tucked inside them, she made a cup of tea and made herself comfortable on the sofa to read the documents from the archives. The transcript of the trial held her captive better than any of those suspense movies she used to go see with Wayne. She read it all the way through without stopping, questions and suspicions running rampant through her mind the whole time.

  Only now did she understand why Uncle Will had not been able to leave this trial behind him, as he must have many, many others in his long career. After eating a hastily prepared lunch, Annie returned to the documents with her spreadsheet beside her for reference.

  There had been two primary witnesses for the prosecution, and their names jogged her memory. Consulting the spreadsheet, Annie saw the last name of one of them had been translated from the Latin notation venator. Paul Hunter. She stared at the other name. Dirk Smith. Back to the spreadsheet, she checked the Bible verse where the venator—or “hunter”—notation had been written. Isaiah 59:4: “None calleth for justice, nor any pleadeth for truth: they trust in vanity, and speak lies; they conceive mischief, and bring forth iniquity.” It seemed obvious to Annie that the judge had discerned the men had been lying, although the defense of the accused man never even attempted to prove it from what Annie had just read in the transcript.