Coming to Rosemont

by Barbara Hinske

  Chapter 17

  Monday morning started with a burst of activity at Rosemont. Marc and Alex were up early, anxious to launch into their days. Maggie heard them stirring downstairs, trying not to disturb her. It had been close to midnight when everyone finally cleared out and she was able to head upstairs. She would get up to see them off and come back to bed for a few hours. She didn’t have anything scheduled before her conference call at ten.

  Maggie was nestling into her pillow and thinking what a delicious treat it was to sleep in on a weekday when her cell phone rang. She groaned inwardly and was tempted to ignore it. Instead, she picked it up and saw that Susan was calling. It was five a.m. in California, and Susan was not an early riser. She swung her feet over the side of her bed and punched the answer button.

  “Mom, it’s me,” Susan sobbed.

  “Honey. What’s wrong?” Maggie asked, fear tracing her spine with its razor’s edge.

  Susan gulped a ragged breath and continued, “Rob broke up with me last night. Said he isn’t sure he can give me what I need, isn’t ready yet. Some BS like that.”

  “Oh sweetie,” was the only thing Maggie could think to say.

  “I knew something was up. He’s been pulling away from me for the past several weeks. I asked him if anything was wrong, but he just kept saying no, he was busy at work and he was tired. And he’s been talking about his ex-wife and how much he loved her. I just wanted to scream at him, ‘Yep, she’s so perfect that she cheated on you and manipulates the kids against you and made your life a living hell during the divorce that she filed for.’ I listened to all of his complaints while he was going through it. And he was the one who pursued me after his divorce. I told him it was too soon. He was the one who started talking about marriage, not me.” It was clear that she was picking up steam so Maggie remained silent.

  “You’d be proud of me this time, Mom. I didn’t cry—well, I did a little bit—but I didn’t argue or try to talk him out of it. All the time he was talking I kept thinking, You idiot. You’re giving me up? I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. If he’s too stupid to realize what he’s got, he doesn’t deserve me.” Maggie could picture the resolute line of her daughter’s shoulders, the confident lift of her chin.

  “That’s exactly right,” Maggie agreed. “I’m so relieved to hear you talking this way. You don’t need to throw yourself at anybody. Rob is too old for this kind of adolescent indecision. He’s weak. You deserve better than this.”

  “I know,” Susan huffed. “And he wanted to ‘remain friends,’ like continue to talk and go hiking and stuff. I told him I didn’t want there to be hard feelings between us but that I couldn’t see us going on as friends. I think that would be too hard for me.”

  “Why would you want to, for heaven’s sake? He certainly hasn’t acted like a friend. Pressuring you to commit to him and then deciding he isn’t ready. What’s that all about? I don’t respect that. Between work and your existing friends, you’re booked,” Maggie said. “Save your extra time for Mr. Right. He’s probably waiting just around the corner. Waiting for Rob to get out of the way.”

  Susan laughed. “That makes me feel better. You always do. But I hate having to start over,” she moaned. “And we had big plans for Easter. We were going to stay at a little inn on the beach. I guess I’ll go over to Mike’s and be with the girls.”

  “No,” Maggie replied. “Why don’t you come here? I’m throwing a big Easter bash and fundraiser, and I could use the help. It’s going to be right here at Rosemont. And you could get acquainted with Westbury. You must have unused vacation; you never take any. Why don’t you stay for a week—or two?”

  Susan was silent for a moment. She’s seriously considering it, Maggie realized with surprise.

  “You know, I think I will come,” she said. “I miss you and I want to see where you’re living now. The change of scene will do me good. And if I’m out of town I can’t see Rob. I know it’ll be hard, but I intend to make a clean break of it.

  “What’s this fundraiser for? What are you doing to raise money?”

  Those are great questions, Maggie thought. In truth, she came up with the whole idea on the spur of the moment to entice Susan to visit. She knew the fundraiser’s purpose would be to raise money for the pension fund. She couldn’t raise enough money to have a significant impact, but she could raise awareness of the issues. It would give her a chance to meet more people. And it might convince Susan to visit.

  Reconciled to the fact that she wouldn’t have time to get any more sleep, Maggie launched into a detailed description of the suspected corruption in the town government and the committee’s investigation, the arson fires, and Alex and Marc’s temporary residence with her. She left out the part about her dinner with John. She wasn’t ready to get into all of that yet.

  She admitted that the planning for the fundraiser was still in its infancy. “I saw some great decorations in the window of a charming gift shop on the town square. I decided then and there that I would host an Easter dinner and would buy new decorations for my table. The idea of a larger event just hit me.

  “Rosemont’s lawn is the perfect location for an Easter egg hunt,” Maggie continued. “We could have other games, with prizes. Maybe a bake sale with donated goods. The fire department could send over a truck and kids could climb on it and get their pictures taken. Three-legged races. Old-fashioned stuff.”

  “If anybody can pull this off, it’s you, Mom,” Susan said. “It does sound fun. Very nostalgic, which is how I picture your new home. Minus the corruption and criminal arson.”

  “Can you think of anything else we could do?”

  “Let me go online and do some research. I’ll come up with something. Will anyone else help you on this?”

  “I’ll have a committee,” Maggie said, and hoped she was right. “Sweetie, I have to get ready for a conference call. Can we talk later?”

  “I’ve got to get dressed for work, too. I’ll make my plane reservations and give you a call. Easter is a week from Sunday. I’ll try to come in on the Wednesday before and stay until the Saturday after. Would that be okay with you?”

  “Perfect,” Maggie assured her. “Chin up, dear one. I’m proud of you. You’re putting your feet onto a happier path. Love you—talk soon.”

  Chapter 18

  When she arrived early Monday morning, Tonya Holmes was surprised to see the cars of the mayor and other councilmembers in the lot behind Town Hall, with the conspicuous absence of Frank Haynes’ shiny Mercedes. The mayoral position was full time, but the council slots were not and most of the councilmembers held down other jobs. It was rare for the councilmembers to be at Town Hall unless a meeting was scheduled.

  As she walked down the corridor, she noted that their offices were vacant. She stashed her purse in her desk drawer and decided to find them. She wanted to talk about the fires.

  Staff workers were beginning to filter in, hanging up their jackets, putting their lunches in the refrigerator, logging on to their computers. She murmured good morning to everyone she passed as she continued her search. The large double doors to the suite that housed the mayor and his assistant were closed, but the light was on. If he and the other councilmembers were in the building, they must be in his office, behind closed doors. She knocked firmly as she tried the outer door.

  No one answered. The door was unlocked and she entered the waiting area outside the mayor’s office. His assistant wasn’t at her desk. Tonya heard raised voices coming from the mayor’s office. She approached the door and hesitated, hoping to hear what they were arguing about.

  “He told us to take care of things. And we did,” she heard, but couldn’t identify the speaker.

  “That’s bullshit,” she heard Wheeler spit back. “He didn’t mean this. You guys don’t know when to stop. I’m out.”

  “It’s not that easy,” and this time she knew it was Delgado talking. “You’re out if we say you’re out.”

  Others joine
d the argument and Tonya stepped closer to the door. Wheeler charged out, tossing an “I’m done” over his shoulder when he collided with Tonya. “What the ...” he cried. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

  “Good morning, Mayor,” Tonya answered as she steadied herself. “Gentlemen,” she said, as she stepped into the office. “I was surprised to see that you were all here today. And so early. I went looking for you. And here you are.”

  They sat there, each one waiting for someone else to break the silence. They’re thinking of how to spin this, Tonya thought to herself. She smiled pleasantly and waited for a response.

  “We were talking about the fires,” Wheeler finally supplied. “Did you hear about them?”

  Tonya nodded.

  “Shocking that such a thing could happen in Westbury,” he continued as he warmed to his subject. “We’re going to make sure that the fire marshal and chief of police give this their full attention. These perpetrators need to be brought to justice. Immediately.” Heads bobbed in agreement around the office.

  “I thought that would be obvious,” Tonya replied. “Good to know you’re on it. It’ll be interesting to find out where this all leads. Anyone have any theories?”

  “No,” Isaac answered. “No idea.”

  Tonya nodded as she turned and left the group to wonder what she might have overheard.

  ***

  At three o’clock that afternoon, Maggie sent out an email to the committee announcing the Easter carnival to be held on the front lawn of Rosemont on the Saturday before Easter, for the benefit of the pension fund. She outlined her basic idea and asked for suggestions and help if anyone had the time. Maggie logged off and decided to go to the square to buy the Easter decorations she saw in the shop on Saturday.

  The bell on the door of Celebrations heralded her arrival into another world. Maggie stopped just inside the entry to inhale the air, deeply scented with the aroma of gardenia emanating from a circular table to her right that was loaded with candles and oil lamps. New Age music played softly in the background. In the center of the shop, seasonal decorations and housewares were surrounded by greeting cards and invitations. Maggie unzipped her jacket, settled her purse on her arm, and got down to business. This would be the most restorative hour she had spent in a very long time, she was sure of it.

  She headed first to a table of Beatrix Potter figurines. The rabbits were sitting in a field of shimmery green netting interspersed with faux Easter eggs and nosegays of violets and lily of the valley. She stood back to admire the charming scene. There was something soothing yet invigorating about being surrounded by beautiful displays. The symmetry, color, and textural delight of the produce department at Whole Foods or the towel displays at a department store made her feel as though she were in an art museum.

  The shop was empty, and Maggie leisurely examined everything in it, making a mental note of the merchandise they carried for future reference. She circled back to the rabbits and considered each one, arranging them in groupings until she was satisfied with her selections. Other must-haves were plastic bunnies that looked like they were made of chocolate and a handful of pastel baskets adorned with silk flowers.

  The shop owner was clearly excited at the prospect of this very large sale. She asked Maggie if she was having a party, and Maggie told her that she had just moved to town and would be hosting an Easter carnival at Rosemont to raise money for the pension fund.

  “What a super idea,” the woman said, eyeing her curiously. “You can put a notice in my window if you’d like. I’m sure the other shop owners along here will do the same. In fact, Ellen at the print shop could make them for you. And I can donate items for prizes. I’ll bet Charlotte next door will give you candy. It’s really nice of you to do this. I’m Judy Young, by the way,” she said, extending her hand.

  “Maggie Martin,” she replied as they shook hands. “That would be terrific. I just thought this up and haven’t gotten very far organizing things. I didn’t think about how I was going to publicize it yet,” she admitted. “I still don’t know exactly what we’ll be doing.”

  “I can help, if you like,” Judy offered. “I’d be happy to organize the merchants around the square. We have a little association, and I’m president. We all love Westbury. We were so glad that you decided to keep Rosemont as a private residence.”

  “I can certainly use the help,” Maggie said. “I’m going to get this all planned in the next few days. Would you talk to Ellen about printing the notices? It will be on the Rosemont lawn, from ten until two. Easter egg hunt, games, food, and fun for children of all ages. Donations encouraged for the pension fund.”

  “How about a silent auction?” Judy asked. “I can organize that. You wouldn’t have to do a thing.”

  “Fabulous! Can you take care of getting the notices out, too?”

  “Of course. We’ll post them in the library and the Town Hall, too, and the vet will put one up in his clinic. He’s so nice. Have you met him yet? Good,” Judy said as Maggie nodded. “I’ll give a stack to my realtor friend, Tim Knudsen, too. He’s all over the place. He’ll help. Maybe we can get him to take charge of collecting donations. You can’t say no to him. Why don’t you call me tomorrow afternoon and we can compare notes?” Judy suggested as she helped Maggie carry her purchases to her car.

  This is really going to happen, Maggie realized as she closed her trunk. She decided to walk across the Square to Laura’s to pick up muffins to have on hand for breakfast, now that she had guests in the house.

  Laura greeted Maggie with an excited wave. “We were just talking about you. Joan and me. You just missed her. We were talking about the Easter carnival. What a great idea! Joan is going to talk to Beth. The three of us will handle the bake sale. I’ll donate coffee cakes. And Pete and I will both provide gift certificates to sell at the silent auction.”

  “Word travels fast around here.” Maggie laughed. “I just thought this up, and my email only went out a little while ago.”

  “I know,” said Laura. “Judy called me as soon as you left her shop. She’ll have talked to everyone on the square by the time the hour is out. Joan came in as I was hanging up with Judy, and she had already read your email. She definitely wants to help. Sam will ask John to work on games and contests. And John has a client that rents out a pony for birthday parties. They might donate it, if you don’t mind having a pony in your yard.”

  “And I thought I had a big job ahead of me. All I have to do is stand back and let it happen. It all sounds wonderful. And a pony would be great,” she said. “Judy thought that Tim Knudsen would be willing to take charge of collecting donations. I’m sure I could get Alex and Marc to hide Easter eggs. And my daughter from California will be here, so she can help.”

  “How nice for you,” Laura said. “I can’t wait to meet her. And I’m sure you’re anxious to show Rosemont to her.” Maggie was so engrossed in this happy conversation that she almost forgot the muffins she stopped in for. Her cell phone rang as she was making her selections from the case, and it was Tonya calling to tell her that she would take care of refreshments. Her church had an old-fashioned popcorn popper and large containers for water and lemonade. She would borrow them. “Maggie,” she said, “this is just what we need around here to get us out of the doldrums and put some spring back into our step. You’re like a breath of fresh air around here. I can’t imagine what we would have done without you—on so many levels. Thank you,” she said as she punched off the line.

  Maggie had just hauled her purchases into the house and was wondering what she would fix for supper when her phone rang. “Maggie, it’s John Allen,” said the now familiar voice. “I got your email about the Easter carnival, and I think it’s an inspired idea. You have more energy and imagination than anyone I know.” Maggie flushed with pleasure. “I’ve got some ideas and suggestions, but mainly want you to know I’ll be available to help with whatever you need. I know this is short notice, but if you haven’t eaten yet, I wa
s wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?”

  “Your timing is impeccable—I was just heading into the kitchen. Alex and Marc are working at Alex’s office tonight, so I’m free.”

  John said he would pick her up in half an hour.

  Maggie fed Eve, changed her clothes, and printed off the email from Susan with her flight information. John arrived right on time.

  “How about Italian?” he asked. “I know a small family-owned place. The thin crust pizza is remarkable.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Maggie replied. “I used to eat pizza with my granddaughters all the time. Haven’t had it since I left California. When they visit, I’ll need to know where to go.”

  Tomascino’s was tucked away on a side street running off the square. The Monday night crowd was thinning out when they walked through the front door that opened directly into the dining room. The young hostess ushered them to a corner booth and a waiter swooped in to take their drink order. As she leaned back into her seat, Maggie stretched her shoulders and stifled a yawn. She thought John looked exhausted, too. Over a California Veggie Supreme, she brought him up to date on the plans for the Easter carnival.

  “That’s remarkable,” he said. “These things usually take months to plan. Shows what you can do when you want to. Sam and I talked briefly. We’re going to be your games chairmen. Sack races, hula-hoops, maybe something with Angry Birds—whatever those are—Sam knows. And my client with the pony is willing to loan her out if you don’t mind having her. She shouldn’t do any damage to your yard.”

  Maggie smiled at him. “I don’t mind in the least. I plan to enjoy this property. If it suffers some wear and tear, so be it. Anything in the yard will grow back. I take it you won’t mind putting up a sign in your clinic?” she asked. “How many people do you suppose might attend? Any idea how much money we might make? I want to set a goal for us. I’m a big believer in visualizing what you want to achieve. And I want it to be a stretch goal.”