A Thousand Generations

by Traci DePree

“Have you ever heard of or known families that carry grudges from generation to generation,” he said, “until the point that they don’t even remember what the original argument was about? Like the Hatfields and McCoys, they fight and strive, but for what? It is the heritage they’ve been left and that they choose to bring with them into the future.” He shook his head again. “It’s a shame, isn’t it? To live your life carrying that baggage around with you?”

  “Yesterday,” he said, “Kate and I went to visit my cousin Gladys, and I was struck by how much alike she and I are. When we get together, it’s as if we’ve never been apart. Conversation comes easy. We’re at home with each other. We come from the same people, the same grandparents. We share the same heritage, the same legacy.

  “Our grandparents had a deep faith. I know for a fact that our grandmother Marie as well as our parents prayed for us on a daily basis, even when we weren’t making great choices. She talked to us and showed by example what living for and loving God was all about. Her influence continues in us to this day, and we—Kate and I—have passed that faith on to our children. It’s our legacy.”

  Paul paused for a long moment, allowing the congregation to take in his words. “But what if the legacy we’ve been given isn’t so good? What if we come from a family that didn’t love us or show us the kind of care we deserved?” Paul’s brow knit together. “You see, we have a choice. We aren’t left to wallow in whatever is handed to us. We can move toward God in faith that he will give us and our children a new legacy, if we love him and show that love by obeying him. He promises to show his love to a thousand generations just because we love him! What a promise that is!”

  Chapter Ten

  Even as the parishioners filed out of the sanctuary, Kate could tell that something was bothering Phillip. He sat forward with his head down. Was it the sermon or the allegations that still hung over him?

  “Are you okay, Phillip?” she said, lightly touching his shoulder.

  “I don’t know, Kate.”

  She sat down next to him. “What is it?”

  He was quiet for a long time. Two women passed them, sending narrowed glances their way, then leaning close to whisper as they moved toward the foyer. Kate stared after them, wondering what they were whispering about and if it had anything to do with why so few people came to church that morning. She tried not to think that it probably had to do with her husband or the article in the paper.

  “Was I wrong to move here?” Phillip asked, drawing her attention.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I left everything—my son, the home that Ginny and I made, everything. And now I feel so...lost and alone.” He lifted his clouded gaze to Kate.

  “You’re not alone, Phillip,” she assured, patting his hand. “You have friends here, including Paul and me.”

  Phillip shook his head. “You were with me Friday. You and Paul are the only friends I have. Other people, like them”—he motioned toward the women who were now at the back of the church—“are whispering about me. I went to the Country Diner for supper yesterday after you dropped me off at the store. Do you know how many people were staring and whispering as if I’d already been convicted for stealing that mannequin?”

  Kate’s heart broke for the man, though she still wondered why his watch had been found in Eli’s store.

  “I think I made the wrong choice in moving here,” he said. “Maybe I’m just running away.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate comforted. “You know we’re always here for you, right?”

  He nodded mutely, then they sat in silence for several minutes.

  Finally Paul came by. “What’s going on?” he asked after exchanging a worried look with Kate.

  “I...,” Phillip began, “I guess I could use a friend to talk to.”

  Paul sat next to him and said, “I’m here.”

  Kate sensed that they needed to talk in private, so she excused herself. She looked around to see if she could locate Eli Weston, but she couldn’t find him.

  The foyer was mostly empty now, though a few members lingered in conversation. Renee Lambert came over and leaned close to Kate.

  “You know that people are talking about you and Paul, don’t you?” she said, whispering.

  Kate stared at her for a moment, then looked away, unsure if she wanted to hear what the woman had to say. Then she took a deep breath and looked the seventy-one-year-old in the eyes. “What are they saying, Renee?” she managed.

  “That you and Paul are somehow involved with that theft at Weston’s, or if you aren’t involved, that you’re covering for that Loving fellow.”

  Kate couldn’t believe her ears. Renee placed a hand on Kate’s arm as if to calm her.

  “I care about you, Kate.” Renee’s tone wasn’t unkind. She seemed concerned, looking out for a friend. “But you have to see how it looks to outsiders—Eli finds that mannequin with Paul’s last name on it, then it’s stolen by the very person you just started working for.”

  “I’m not working for Phillip, and no one has proven that he took the mannequin,” Kate corrected.

  “He is their lead suspect, isn’t he? He was arrested.”

  “He was also released for lack of evidence,” Kate said.

  But Renee was on a roll. “Then Paul’s sermon this morning...” The woman’s gaze shifted to Paul and Phillip, who remained near the front of the church, deep in conversation.

  “What about it?” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Some are saying that it sounded a bit like someone who’s trying to shift the focus off himself.” She shrugged.

  Kate stared at her, unable to think of anything to say in response. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. Finally she managed, “Renee, you know us better than that.”

  “Of course, I do,” Renee said, placing a splayed hand on her chest for emphasis. “I just thought you should be aware that others are saying that Paul is blame shifting...and that doesn’t look good for Faith Briar, now does it?”

  Kate started to speak, to defend her husband, but Renee went on. “And you should know, Kate, that some members of the board are talking about it too, about what kind of reputation we want our pastor and our church to have.”

  The implication was clear: if there was a stain on the Hanlon name, the church might reconsider whether they wanted to be associated with them.

  HAD ELI BEEN AT CHURCH? Kate wondered after she and Paul arrived home. He usually sat in the same area, but she hadn’t seen him there that morning. The young man had been a faithful member of their church body. It wasn’t like him to miss a Sunday. She remembered their last encounter, how he’d looked at her with the hurt of betrayal in his eyes. She couldn’t let this rift continue.

  She went to the phone and dialed his number, but it rang and rang, finally going to voice mail.

  “Hi, Eli,” she said tentatively after the beep. “I missed you in church today. Wanted to check in and see how you are. Give me a call when you get a chance.”

  But after hours passed, and the afternoon sun grew hot, Eli still hadn’t called her back.

  THE POWER OF RUMOR WAS STRONG. It ate at Kate for the rest of the afternoon. Who had said such things about Paul and her? Kate had been so flabbergasted by the accusations that she hadn’t thought to ask Renee who’d made them, and yet now that she was home for the afternoon, she couldn’t think of anything else.

  So she decided to keep herself busy. A distraction would help. She went into her stained-glass studio and began to consider what sort of design to make for Phillip’s transom window, though she still hoped, for his own sake, that he would choose one of Ginny’s masterpieces.

  She looked through several stained-glass magazines, finally settling on a simple design that read “Antiques” in a formal font.

  But before she could draw up a template, she needed to get the dimensions of the store’s window. She climbed into her black Honda and headed downtown, parking on Smith Street.
/>   Phillip had left for an estate sale after church, so the place was quiet when she arrived.

  Shutting the door and locking it behind her, Kate made her way to the back room, where a tall ladder was kept. She carried it to the front and set it into position alongside the door when she realized she’d forgotten her tape measure. Of all things! She was fairly sure she’d seen one on Phillip’s desk the last time she’d stopped in, so she went to shuffle through the piles of clutter to look for it.

  Every receipt, letter, and piece of junk mail Phillip had ever received seemed to lay in the stacks on the scarred oak desk. Kate was tempted to sort and organize but instead lifted one pile and then the next in her search. She had just located the tape measure when a sheet of paper with Phillip’s handwriting caught her eye. It read simply, Estimate on wooden lady?

  Kate stared at the note, disbelieving, when a sound of rattling wood filtered from the back door of the shop, followed by breaking glass. Someone was trying to break in.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kate rushed to see what had caused the noise. Shattered glass from the back door’s window sparkled on the dark floor. Kate carefully stepped around the pieces as her heart kicked into high gear.

  She looked through the broken window and saw a man with a limp running away—the man at the Bristol! By the time she’d gotten the door unlocked and opened, he’d rounded the corner of the next building. Kate took off after him, but when she got to the spot where he’d turned the corner, he wasn’t there.

  She ran between the two brick businesses toward Sweetwater Street, but there was no sight of him there either. Not even another pedestrian who might have seen him.

  Kate stopped and turned in a full circle. Where had the man gone? The sound of squealing tires a block away answered her question. She ran to see if she could get a glimpse of the car, but it too was nowhere to be found.

  She bent to catch her breath and rub her arthritic knee, trying to take in all that had just happened. Someone had just tried to break into Phillip’s store. But why? The store hadn’t even opened for business yet, so there was no money to steal.

  She glanced at the ground and noticed a silver-plated lighter lying on the sidewalk. She bent to pick it up. The initials W.M. were engraved on the side in a cursive font. She turned it over, wondering if the man had dropped it.

  He had been short, and the back of his head was balding. Kate wished she’d seen him from the front. He wore a dark T-shirt, and he had a limp when he ran. Definitely the same man she’d seen twice before.

  Kate immediately called Phillip and then Deputy Spencer about the attempted break-in. She quickly discovered that the deputy was off duty, so she got Sheriff Roberts instead.

  Less than half an hour later, the three of them stood by the back entry of the store, looking at the broken glass after Kate relayed what had happened.

  Phillip shoved his hands into his pockets, and Kate thought of the note she’d found just before the glass had shattered. What had “estimate on wooden lady” meant? Was it what she thought it meant? That he could be trying to resell the mannequin? She had a hard time believing that about her friend. There had to be a logical explanation. He was innocent until proven guilty, though the note sure didn’t help that.

  “The man who tried to break in,” Kate said, “I’m almost positive it was the man we saw at the Bristol and the estate auction.”

  The sheriff had already taken down his description.

  “It’s possible, isn’t it?” Phillip said, obvious hope in his voice as he turned toward the sheriff. “That whoever this person is, he’s trying to set me up. If this man was both at the Bristol and here, he could’ve taken the watch and planted it at Eli’s and then tried to break in today.”

  The sheriff studied Phillip for a moment before finally conceding. “I suppose it could happen.” But then he quickly added, “But without stronger evidence, there isn’t much I can do.” He lifted his hat to scratch his head. “What did he break the window with?” he asked Kate.

  “I didn’t see. I just heard the glass shattering,” she said. “I found this, though.” She handed him the lighter with the initials W.M. “It was on the sidewalk on Sweetwater Street. I found it when I chased him.”

  Roberts took it and examined the engraving on the side. “Do you know for sure that it belonged to the man who broke in?”

  Kate shook her head. “I’m just guessing.”

  “Why would someone try to break in?” Phillip said, still obviously deep in thought, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s not like there’s money to steal yet.” He scratched his head.

  The sheriff tapped a pencil on the notepad in his hands. “It’s a good question,” he admitted, turning slightly toward Phillip.

  “I think it’s connected to the mannequin,” Phillip said. “That’s what holds the key to all of this.”

  “Why do you think that?” Kate asked.

  “Well, look at it.” Phillip leaned against the wrought-iron railing on the back steps as he went on. “This guy with the limp doesn’t start coming around until the very day Eli brings the dummy over. You find out it’s full of collectible cash, then it’s stolen from Eli’s. But whoever took it doesn’t get any of the cash, so they think Eli’s partner in crime must have it.”

  “You mean me?” Kate said, pointing to herself.

  Phillip nodded. “The newspaper article did talk about you as much as it did Eli...,” he said.

  Kate had to admit there was logic to the suggestion. “But no one has tried to break in to our house,” she argued.

  “True,” Phillip said. “But anyone who read the article and saw us together, say at the Bristol, could have thought you’d stashed the money here.”

  “But then it wouldn’t have to be someone connected with the mannequin’s past,” Kate said.

  “Except that the man showed up at the Bristol and the auction before the article ran in the paper,” Phillip reminded.

  Kate was intrigued by the hypothesis. She turned to Sheriff Roberts. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “It’s all speculation at this point.” He shook his head. “We’ll see if there’s any connection to this lighter, but until we find out anything different, this and Eli’s theft are two separate cases.” He met Phillip’s gaze directly when he said it, the implication clear. Phillip was still his prime suspect in the other case.

  After the sheriff left, Phillip began to clean up the shattered glass in the back entry.

  “Don’t worry about the cleanup, Kate,” Phillip said as Kate bent to pick up the larger shards. “I’ll be fine. It’s Sunday—you head on home.”

  “I don’t mind,” she began to protest, but when she saw the frown on his face, she realized that Phillip wanted to be alone.

  “Okay,” she said, placing the shards she’d already picked up in the dustpan he held in his hands. “But you call me if you need anything, okay?”

  Phillip nodded mutely, and Kate left for home.

  The question of the handwritten note Kate had found on Phillip’s desk lingered in her mind as she drove. And with it the thought that Phillip could have hired the limping man to set the whole thing up, to make him look innocent in the theft at Eli’s. But there was a basic flaw with that theory: Why would he plant his own watch at Weston’s Antiques?

  Chapter Twelve

  The diner smelled of biscuits and gravy when Kate and Livvy took their seats in one of the blue vinyl booths on Monday morning. Other than a brief chat at church the day before, Kate had barely had time to see her dear friend, so she called and asked if they could rendezvous at the Country Diner for a chance to catch up on each other’s lives.

  The waitress, LuAnne Matthews, another of Kate’s dear friends, smiled at each of them. She wore her polyester dress and white apron, her standard attire for the job.

  “Hey, you two,” she said as she handed out menus. “Do you need these, or can I interest you in some biscuits and gravy?” She pointed at a steamin
g plate of the Southern breakfast on a neighboring table.

  “That is so tempting,” Livvy admitted, smirking at Kate. “Want to do it? We can share.”

  “We only live once, right?” Kate said with a laugh.

  “Y’all won’t be sorry,” LuAnne said with a wink at Kate before she scooted off to place the order.

  It was good to be with her friends. Livvy met her gaze. “I saw the article in last week’s Chronicle,” the auburn-haired librarian said.

  “It’s been insane—” Kate began, but voices coming from the front of the diner pulled her up short.

  “I heard that Loving guy is trying to take all of Eli Weston’s business!” Kate recognized the voice as that of Marta Phelps, a young mother she’d talked to a few times when she’d volunteered in the nursery at Faith Briar.

  “Can you imagine?” Marta went on. “Eli is a pillar in our community, and this interloper thinks he can move in and what? Take his place?” Her voice rose in indignation. “As if the people of Copper Mill aren’t loyal to their own? What is Kate Hanlon thinking of, associating with that man?”

  “I hear you.” A second woman took over. Kate recognized her as Laura Sunderman, another young mother from church. “The report I read said that Loving’s watch was found at Eli’s. Apparently he says he’s not guilty, but I think he’s just trying to deflect the guilt off himself. What did he do for a living in Texas?”

  “Beats me. Probably something illegal.” The two women snickered, and a sick feeling overcame Kate as the words of warning Renee Lambert had delivered only the day before replayed in her head.

  “Then Kate helps the man set up his antiques store. Why hasn’t she ever helped Eli like that?”

  Finally Kate heard LuAnne greet the women and the voices fade as LuAnne presumably led the women to their table at the far side of the restaurant.

  “Kate,” Livvy said, an eyebrow lifted, “don’t listen to them. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  But the damage had been done. Suddenly the biscuits and gravy didn’t seem all that appetizing.