All Roads Lead Home (Bellingwood) (2 page)

Polly looked up. “
I
do pretty well
, but if you have a good
idea for organizing a large pantry, I’d love to hear it!”

Beryl
wrinkled
her nose, “You might not want to say that to this
woman. She
h
as a,” she paused and thought, “
we’ll
call it a flair for putting things in order. It’s a
sickness, you know. We keep telling her she should turn that sickness into a
business
. Other people …
normal people who don’t feel the need to a
lphabetize their refrigerators …
might want a little of her influence.”

Andy threw a box of crackers at her friend. “I like
things to make sense. A
pantry isn’t
simply organized alphabetically; it’s organized by how you use it. And then,
it’s organized alphabetically.”

Beryl caught the box out of the air and stuffed it
onto a shelf. “Well, there’s the ‘C’ shelf. I don’t care what you do after
that.”

Polly watched the two women banter and then turned to
see Lydia and Sylvie simply taking things out of bags while watching the
entertainment.

“Do I step in here?” she asked Lydia.

“Not unless you have something important to say. However,
Andy will give a lot of thought to organizing your
space
if
you
let her
. Just
say the word, and you will never lose anything again. I keep her out of my
kitchen
though. S
ometimes I like the adventure of wondering what will
pop out at me when I clean the shelves!” Lydia smiled at her friend and winked.

“Wow, I suppose I should have asked you to help me
with this before I started,” Polly said.

“Oh! Don’t say that. You’ve got a wonderful place
here.” Andy started pulling things back out of the cupboard. “But, if you move
this here with the chocolate and put these over here, then if you make sure
this cupboard is used for your spices and over here you could put all of your
canned vegetables
..
.” She turned around
to see
everyone staring at her.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“No! That’s great!” Polly exclaimed. “It’s all yours
now.” She
laughed
and pulled a stainless steel cart out from under the
front counter. “Here, we’ll put everything on
this
and you can have a ball.”

In a few minutes,
every cupboard door was wide open and supplies unloaded. Beryl had found the
coffee mugs and pulled five out. She
gathered
plates and napkins,
and after discovering a platter, filled
it
with scones and cookies. The chatter of the women as they worked in
her kitchen made Polly giggle. It
seemed
surreal
.
W
omen she’d
never met before had walked in and made themselves at home
.

Lydia was stowing casserole dishes and
plasticware
filled containers in her refrigerator and freezer. "
The
dishes are
clearly labeled. You shouldn't have to cook for
a while
unless we keep visit
every day,"
Lydia remarked
. "And this kitchen is amazing! I'd show up every
day
just
to cook
here
."

She walked over to the stove. "Andy, did you see
this thing? It's got everything you could want in a stove!" To Polly, she
asked, “
How much did it cost?"

At Beryl's gasp, Lydia's face fell and she shook her
head. "I'm sorry. I've never seen anything like this in someone's home."

Polly chuckled. "If I'm going to pull off what I
want to do here,
it needs to be
this big."

Lydia asked, “What exactly are you hoping to do?”

“A little bit of everything,” Polly responded. “A
little bit artist’s retreat, a little bit community center, a little bit
bookstore
, a little bit crafting. Y
e
ah, that.” She
clicked off the coffeemaker, reached into a drawer for a trivet and
carried both
to
the table.

Polly went on,
"I
haven't even thought about cooking since I got here. I appreciate the chance
for good food."

She sat down on the far side of the table and the
women
gathered
around. Andy kept glancing at the pantry shelves until finally Beryl said,
“Enough, girl! I’m sure Polly will let you come back with your label maker and
turn it into a thing of organizational beauty. Right, Polly?”

Polly
took
a bite out of a scone. She moaned a little as the
aroma of raspberry and sugar filled her senses. “What? Oh. Sure. You can come
back any time. Excuse me a moment while I enjoy this,” and took another bite.

Lydia
was the
next to interrupt
Polly’s reverie. "The
whole town is dying to know what
you’re
doing here. There are a lot of rumors. Most
of the guys working on the
renovation
are
from around here, but you know men. They never get it right and they never know
what questions to ask to
make
us happy."

Andy said, "My daughter's boyfriend, Jimmy, has
been
working
in here lately
. I keep telling him to ask questions, but he's shy."

Polly nodded. "I know who that is. He is shy. He
walks past a room where I'm painting, hesitates as if he wants to step in and
speak to me, then shakes his head and goes back to where he was working. He
seems like a nice boy, though."

"I’m glad he has a good job. He has to
wait until
my
daughter is
finished with college before
he asks her to marry him. He knows I’ll kill her if she doesn’t graduate, so
he's
trying to be patient
."

"Polly, why did you buy this old school?" Lydia
pressed a little harder.

Polly sat back in her chair, holding her coffee mug
between both hands.

"I wanted to live in Iowa again. I realized one
day how much I missed being around real people. Mom died twenty years ago and
then
three years
ago Dad was killed in a car accident. They owned a
farm over by Story City
. Dad sold out to his brothers about ten years ago - he made a really
good deal. He moved into a little house in
town
and had a great time there. He loved working with
wood, so he
had a small s
hop in his garage. Christmas was his favorite time of
year. He’d dress up as Santa Claus and take
the
toys he made
to shelters in the area.

“I'd gone to Boston to college and got a job out
there, working at
the
Boston Public Library. It was absolutely wonderful. I
loved everything about it, but I
missed
the quiet of the farm and
being around
people who loved me only because I was family. I came back after Dad died and
cleared out his house. I put everything in storage, went back to Boston and
realiz
ed that what I loved about the l
ibrary was the solitude I found in the stacks
.

“Then, something happened and I realized how much I
wanted to be here. I started scouting around for a small town and
the son of
one
of Dad's old friends is a realtor. When he sent me picture
s
of this school
and I realized how close it was to Ames and Des Moines, I decided I didn't need
to work at the library any longer and I didn't need to live in Boston either. I
gave them my notice, packed my stuff and made the move."

"What happened to make you suddenly leave
Boston?" asked Sylvie.

"Oh, nothing much.
It was the right time for me to
go
." Polly's
eyes misted a little and they noticed her slight shudder. She averted her eyes
and took another bite of the scone.

"So,
how
long have you been in Iowa
?" Lydia
asked, moving the conversation along.

"I left Boston in April, rented an apartment in
Ames while the purchase of the school went through and began making plans to
renovate it."

"You surely aren't going to live in this big ole
place by yourself, are you?" Beryl's eyes were huge.

"
T
his is exactly what I want
,” Polly replied. “I'm putting an
apartment upstairs
and
turning the downstairs into my dream.
I’m
going to play and invite everyone else to play with me. Someday it will have
everything in it I've ever wanted
;
a little craft shop where we can
teach knitting and crocheting,
cake baking and other
cooking classes, and maybe
a
little library and bookstore. Open computers and
Wi-Fi
if people have their own
.
Comfy
chairs
and tables all over the place.
Kind
of like a community center, but more."

She went on, "
We
will host parties and events in the auditorium and on the stage. In the other
three rooms upstairs, I’ll have space for artists and authors and anyone who
needs a getaway for a while.
"

Polly sighed, "It's a dream I have and now I’m
going to go after it."

"Wow," said Andy. "That's a pretty big
dream. I hope your Dad left you lots of money."

Beryl scowled at Andy. "You girls are awfully
personal today." She looked at Polly. “You’d think they’d never been out
in public before.”

Polly's eyes sparkled as she laughed. "He left me
plenty to do this and even screw it up a little."

"Don't you have any sisters or brothers?"
asked Andy.

"No. I was
an
only child," Polly replied. "That’s
probably what makes me so comfortable in the quiet."

She looked around the table,
then
said,
"I
don't know anything about you all, except you're courageous enough to walk in
on a
strange
woman. Oh, and that you went to school here. Tell me
things I should know about you."

Lydia said, "I'll start. My husband, Aaron
,
is the
sheriff. He's a good old guy, even if he seems a little gruff. We have five
children. They're all grown up and two of them have gotten married and have
kids of their own. If I
start telling you
about my brood
I won't stop, but the
youngest, Jim
, is over at Iowa State in
his last year. He's already got a job lined up when he graduates. We're pretty
proud of all of them.

“My oldest daughter, Marilyn
,
lives over in
Dayton. They have twins and even if I got to see those cuties eve
ry day, it wouldn't be enough.
The next daughter, Jill, lives in Kansas City. Her
husband works there. They have one little boy.
I wish they lived closer so I could spend more time with him.
After Jill is Daniel, who lives in
Des Moines, and then Sandy.
She’s
in Minneapolis. As for me, I don't do too much. Just
wait for my kiddos to show up!"

Beryl smiled at her friend, "Lydia does
everything. She organizes meals for shut-ins, manages the Sunday
School
program at the Methodist church, drives some of the
widows whenever they need to shop. Heck, she shops for those who don't want to
get out. Don't let her fool you! She's everyone's best hope for the good life,
it seems."

"Hush, you," said Lydia. "That's
enough."

Andy laughed. "Don't you love them already,
Polly?"

Polly smiled. This felt
right
. "What about you,
Andy?"

"Well, I'm a widow, but I'm not one of those
ladies Lydia has to take care of." She stopped, looked around the table
and said, "Am I? Oh no
. I'm not, am
I? That's not why I'm here with you?" Her voice began rising until Lydia
lightly punched her in the forearm.

"Stop it, you fool," Lydia said. "We've
been friends since elementary school."

"Oh," responded Andy. "That's right."

She went on, "I've been feeling a little old
lately and sometimes a little lonely. Fine, I got stupid for a minute.

"I'm retired, I guess. I used to be a high school
English teacher. I taught here in this
school
, right up at the top of those stairs for years. W
hen they closed the building, I taught in Boone. My
husband, Bill,
died about five years ago.
He was a wonderful man. He farmed and we raised three great kids
out there
. The
two older boys, Billy and John, run the farm with their families. Melanie, my
youngest is in grad school in Iowa City. I moved into town so Billy and his
wife could have the farmhouse and it's probably a good thing. I miss
the farm
, but at
least I'm close to my friends."