“Pipe down!” Claude Fitzgerald smacked his fist on the table, causing the silverware to rattle on the plates. “We are being paid to dismantle this town, not move it. Don’t forget who is paying your salary, Enzo. I refuse to squander state resources on this dangerous gamble.”
“Then I shall help in my own time,” Enzo said. “We’ve been complaining this mountaintop is a boring place to live, and it is.” He glanced apologetically at Bruce Garrett. “I’m sorry, but I’ve spent my whole life in Rome and Manhattan. I live on a diet of Mozart and Michelangelo and the poets of the ages. There’s not much to occupy my mind up here once the workday is over. I want to sink my teeth into something big, so yes, this crazy idea to move the town speaks to the poet in me. I can work on the project during long winter evenings and on the weekend.”
Alex reached out to grab the back of a chair. Without it, he would have collapsed. An engineer was ready to donate his time? And Eloise? That she might join in this incredible adventure was staggering.
“Not so fast,” Claude said. “We have a job to complete, and I demand your complete loyalty. The state deserves nothing less.”
“Not after five o’clock,” Enzo said. “After five o’clock, our time is our own, and I can devote a few hours each evening.”
“I’m in too,” Roy Winthrop said. “I’m a land surveyor, so I can’t help with moving the buildings, but I can show you how to get that old farmland into shape to support roads and a town.”
Hope bloomed inside Alex. He had come up the mountain in search of some equipment, and he was going to leave with priceless skilled labor. He had to think how best to take advantage of it.
“The town will put you up at the Gilmore Inn,” he said. “That way you won’t need to use your free time traveling back and forth. It will save over an hour each day.”
Both Enzo and the land surveyor looked pleased at this prospect, and even Eloise agreed to the move, though she still looked worried at the prospect of him signing the note guaranteeing the safety of the earthmoving equipment. He wasn’t worried, for no one in Duval Springs would do anything to hurt their own cause.
He left the mountaintop with the promise of skilled labor and a fortune in heavy equipment. Sometimes all the stars in the sky came into perfect alignment, and tonight was such a night.
Chapter
Sixteen
Eloise was stunned by the way her life changed overnight. Alex showed up at the crack of dawn with a wagon to move her, Enzo, and Roy into the hotel. Willard greeted them all at the door and agreed to donate their rooms for free.
“I’ve been against this move since the beginning, but I have to congratulate Alex. Having you folks on board is quite a coup,” Willard said.
Maybe Eloise shouldn’t have brought so many clothes with her, for it was a little embarrassing to have this many trunks and hatboxes. Alex and Hercules each lugged a trunk upstairs, but she had three hatboxes and only two hands. Kasper Nagy read a newspaper at his favorite spot on the lobby bench.
“Can you help me with this hatbox?” she asked.
Kasper tipped the newspaper down to peer over the edge at her in surprise. “Minulle? Vitsailetko?”
“Pardon me?” she asked.
Kasper laughed as he folded the newspaper onto his lap. “Forgive me. When I’m shocked, I revert to my native language. Everyone knows better than to ask me for help.”
“Where are you from?” she asked. “You speak English perfectly.”
“Yes, but I spent my first sixteen years in Finland. It took me a few decades to thaw out after I arrived in New York. I learned English, then Morse code, and I earn a living with my mind. The work for Western Union is so taxing, I simply have no energy left for anything more strenuous than reading a newspaper.” Kasper lifted the newspaper again, and the conversation ended.
Eloise looked at Willard in baffled amazement.
“Don’t look at me,” Willard said. “I’d have fired him decades ago, but he works for Western Union, not me. Hand me the hatboxes. I’ll carry them up.”
Eloise obliged. It didn’t take long to get settled in, and she soon came to appreciate the advantages of living in town. Now, instead of traveling in a bumpy carriage up the mountain each evening, she and the others could simply walk over to the tavern to plan how they could help with the move.
“Come inside,” Hercules boomed on their first night of work. It was a much warmer greeting than the first time they’d entered this tavern two months ago. He pulled out a chair at a table and gestured for her to sit. “What can I offer the three of you?” he asked. “Ale? Cider? My firstborn child?”
Enzo grinned. “How about some of your wife’s shepherd’s pie? I had some last week, and I still can’t stop thinking about it.”
Hercules disappeared into the kitchen with their order while his oldest son, John, joined them at the table, his mathematics textbook at the ready. Ever since the school had closed, the students had been working with various teams to get an unconventional but excellent education.
“I figured out the size of the footprint for Dr. Lloyd’s house,” John said. “Now I need to calculate how much cement its foundation will need. I don’t know the right formula for that.”
Eloise did, and she worked with John while Alex and Enzo worked on scheduling. Before long, a pretty blond woman with an immense belly waddled out of the kitchen, carrying a tray weighed down with shepherd’s pie. Alex rose to relieve her of the tray and introduced his sister-in-law to Roy and Enzo.
“Sally is the glue that holds our family together,” Alex said as he began distributing the plates. “She’s the mother of all these young Duval scamps.”
Enzo’s smile was broad. “And you are expecting another soon, I see.”
“Any day now,” Sally said. “We’ve already got four boys, so my husband is hoping for a girl, but I doubt it will happen. I can tell by the way he kicks that I’ve got another rowdy one in here.”
“Bite your tongue!” Hercules called out from behind the bar. “That little girl is going to be a blessing to this family. The prettiest, sweetest, and daintiest girl to walk the earth. Daisies will spring up in her path. Birdsong will follow wherever she walks.”
Sally rolled her eyes. “Listen to him daydream! There hasn’t been a girl born into the Duval family in the past four generations. Not since Esmerelda Duval—”
“That’s because some crazy fool named her Esmerelda,” Hercules said. “If I am blessed with a daughter, she will have a nice, normal name. Mary or Ann. No Esmerelda or Persephone or idiocy like that.”
Eloise glanced over at Alex. “How did you get such a nice, normal name?”
Her question triggered a round of snickering from others in the tavern, and Alex flushed in embarrassment.
“Go on, tell her, Uncle Alex!” John said, his face breaking up with laughter.
“Confess, Sir Lancelot,” someone shouted.
There was clearly a joke that she didn’t understand. She looked at Alex in curiosity.
“My real name is actually Lancelot,” he admitted. “My mom was furious, but Dad got to the town hall before she could stop him, and he made it legal. She insisted on calling me Alex after her father, but everyone in town knows the truth.”
“We all know you for the brave and gallant soul that you are,” Sally said with a wink. “We’ve learned our lesson, and all the children in our family have normal names. This one inside me kicks like he’s strong enough to bring down the walls of Jericho. Start lining up another boy’s name, Herc.”
The door of the tavern opened, and a gust of chilly air blew in.
“Close the door!” someone hollered, but Eloise nearly choked.
What on earth was Fletcher Jones doing here? He was flawlessly attired in a long wool coat and scarf, but his hair looked disheveled, and annoyance was stamped across his features as he spotted her across the tavern.
“I’d like to know what in the name of all that is holy is going on up here,” he
demanded.
She rocked back in her chair. “Welcome to Duval Springs,” she said in an artificially calm voice. “I hope your journey here was agreeable.”
“No, it wasn’t agreeable,” he snapped. “I gave myself an ulcer wondering why the team I sent here has been sidetracked into an impractical scheme to move a town.”
She’d never seen Fletcher angry before, and she was partly responsible for it. Not long ago she would have been appalled at her own behavior, but in the past weeks, some of the stalwart vigor of Duval Springs had sunk into the pores of her skin and changed her a little.
She reverted to common sense to pacify Fletcher. “It’s not worth giving yourself an ulcer,” she said calmly. “All we’re doing is donating a little of our personal time.”
Alex rose to stand before her in a protective stance. “It’s none of your business what Eloise does with her free time. Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m the person underwriting the salaries of the people charged with the smooth demolition of this town,” Fletcher replied.
“The words smooth and demolition don’t belong in the same sentence,” Alex said tightly.
This wasn’t going well. Fletcher could cause trouble for them if he wanted, and she needed to get him on their side.
“Pull up a chair,” she said. “Let’s discuss this like rational people.”
Fletcher made no move to join them, but a little of the starch went out of him. He focused his entire attention on her and spoke calmly. “I warned you against getting emotionally involved with these people. This is a volatile situation, and I need employees of sound logic on the job. A solid block of granite. That’s why I sent you.”
Being described as a lump of rock pricked her feminine sense of pride, but wasn’t he right? She had indeed gotten carried away by one of Alex’s reckless schemes.
Fletcher continued in his firm, unflappable manner. “If the people of Duval Springs choose to use their state payouts to move their homes to higher ground, I won’t stand in their way. But let me be clear. Any structure remaining in the valley on May 1 will be torn down and burned to ash. Our timetable is firm, and there will be no exceptions.”
“We already know that, Mr. Jones,” Enzo said.
“But do the people of Duval Springs know it?” Fletcher asked, raising his voice loud enough to be heard all the way to the corners of the tavern. People put down their mugs and stilled to listen. Fletcher spoke with clinical precision. “Everyone in this town must understand that when they accept payment from the state, the deal is done. Finished. They won’t receive another dime, no matter how much the cost of moving their home escalates. Snowstorms, mudslides, equipment breakdowns—none of it will buy another day beyond the deadline. Any home or business still here on May 1 will be demolished.”
Eloise glanced at Alex, whose face looked like it was carved from stone. She and Alex understood better than most how big a gamble the homeowners were taking. Their money was gone. Everyone who threw their lot in with Alex risked complete financial devastation if he couldn’t get their homes moved out in time.
Alex stepped forward. “Do you think we are ignorant clodhoppers?” he asked, matching Fletcher’s volume. “Do you think because we don’t have a college degree that we can’t read a calendar?” Murmurs of approval rippled through the tavern, but Alex wasn’t finished. “Let me tell you something about the people in this valley. We’ve got strong arms and big shoulders and hearts that won’t give up. We can deliver a calf, repair broken machinery, and replace a roof, all with our own two hands. We do all that and still get to church on Sunday morning to thank God for the blessing of being born in a place like Duval Springs, where we laugh and work and cry together. And we will get this town moved in time, because we aren’t quitters.”
It looked like Alex wanted to keep talking, but the stamping of feet and a healthy round of applause drowned him out. This was the big-hearted dreamer she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. She glanced at Fletcher, worried that he could somehow throw a wrench into this plan. His face was skeptical but not angry.
“Here’s something you need to know about me,” Fletcher said once the applause died down. “I don’t dispute anything you just said, and I wish you well. No one will cheer louder if you succeed, because I don’t relish the prospect of coming back here to burn down homes that people risked their livelihoods to save. But I’ll do it.”
Fletcher buttoned his vest and picked up his traveling case, then directed his attention to Roy and Enzo. “I’ve come to inspect the Timberland camp before we officially open it for business next week, and then I’m heading back to Manhattan. I’ll expect the timetables and the list of necessary supply expenditures on my desk Monday morning. How much longer do you anticipate before the work is complete?”
“We’ll have it done by the end of December as planned,” Enzo said.
“Excellent. You are clipping along at an admirable pace.” Fletcher’s tone had reverted back to the formal man of business—safe, logical, and easy to deal with.
Just as Eloise was about to relax, he shifted his attention to her.
“Six more weeks, and then you can come home,” he said, looking only at her. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
Alex silently fumed as he watched Fletcher Jones leave the tavern. This was the man who’d captured Eloise’s affection. The stranger’s parting words to Eloise couldn’t have been more blatant if he’d hung a placard around her neck.
Alex leaned over to whisper in her ear. “That’s the guy, isn’t it?”
Eloise didn’t deny it as she stared stonily ahead. It had been easy to pretend he didn’t have competition over the past weeks as they’d worked and laughed together, but he wouldn’t forget it again.
And of all the worries and threats he had looming over his head, the one that kept him awake at night was the fact that they hadn’t caught whoever had shot Eloise.
Most people had concluded it was drunken workers from the main camp, but Alex wasn’t ready to let it rest there. Bruce Garrett’s thugs had already done a shakedown of the camp, looking for anyone who answered to the name of Pomo, and come up empty, but threats and intimidation weren’t the best way to glean information. Alex had paid his own visit to the Kingston camp and spent more time than he could afford glad-handing the workers and asking after anyone named Pomo or anything that sounded like it. When that failed, he quietly offered a cash reward to company supervisors, but that turned up no leads either.
Which was why he was trudging toward the Riesel Cement Factory, the only other employer of any size in the valley. Jack Riesel had already told him there was no one who answered to the name of Pomo at the factory, but Alex wanted to look around himself.
The factory was a three-story structure that heated, ground, and pulverized limestone into cement dust. A cacophony of noise and heat engulfed Alex the moment he stepped inside. He spotted Jack on the factory floor, examining lumps of rock traveling on a conveyor belt toward an open kiln. The ever-present peppermint stick dangled from Jack’s mouth. The moment their eyes met across the factory, Jack waved and headed toward Alex.
“You’ll get used to it,” Jack shouted above the noise. The cavernous room was filled with kilns and huge rotating drums that made a thundering noise that could surely deafen a man. Windows propped open high in the walls alleviated some of the heat, but not enough. Alex’s nose twitched at the chalk in the air, and he had to respect Jack for working in a sweltering, gritty environment like this.
To his relief, Jack motioned for Alex to follow him toward the offices to escape the noise and heat. Even so, Alex’s ears continued to echo with the rumble of the churning drums.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” Alex said. “I won’t take much of your time. I’d like to look at some of the company’s records to see if someone named Pomo worked here in the past. Maybe while you were in college? It could also be a nickname.”
“I don’t think so, but let’s ask Oscar. He’s be
en here a long time and has a good memory for that sort of thing.”
Alex nodded. As the factory’s accountant, Oscar Ott had an eye for detail and dealt not only with factory employees, but with suppliers too. The office where Oscar worked was small, lined with stacks of ledgers, and barely had enough room for a desk.
“Coming to mingle with the peasants?” Oscar asked.
Alex ignored the taunt and asked after insight into who might have shot Eloise.
Oscar just rolled his eyes. “I heard it was just a rip in her dress. She probably faked the whole thing. Women do stuff like that for attention.”
“She didn’t fake it,” Alex said tightly.
Oscar held up his hands. “Okay, okay. She got shot. Just like I’m sure she got that accounting job up at the quarry on her own merit and not by being Garrett’s ward. Everyone knows women are bad at math.”
“She’s a CPA,” Alex said, which was more than Oscar was.
“Only rich people can pay for all those fancy classes and tests,” Oscar said. “I managed to learn everything all on my own.”
It was a frustrating conversation, but in the end Oscar proved unable to think of anyone answering to a name or nickname sounding like Pomo.
“Sorry about Oscar,” Jack said afterward as he walked Alex back to the hitching post. “He’s annoying, and we only keep him on because . . .” Jack’s voice trailed off.
“Because why?” Alex prompted.
They walked a few more paces before Jack replied. “His father was our accountant for years. I know Oscar isn’t the brightest man on the planet, but we like to reward loyalty, and he’s been loyal. That’s worth something.”
Alex said nothing as he untied his horse.
“Anyway, I’m sorry we couldn’t be more help,” Jack continued as he put the peppermint stick back into his mouth. “She doesn’t remember anything else about that night?”
“She remembers everything, she just didn’t see the men or catch much of what they said. Most people think it was drunks from the main camp.” Quite frankly, it was the only thing that made sense, since there seemed to be no motive for anyone to shoot Eloise. Oscar Ott’s professional jealousy was the only thing Alex could think of.
A Desperate Hope Page 14