Blame It On The Mistletoe - A Novel of Bright's Pond (24 page)

We arrived at the nursing home in time to see Mildred walking toward her police cruiser.

"Wonder what she's doing here?" Ruth asked.

"Still looking for Leon, I would imagine. He's a slippery one."

"Any ideas?"

"Nah, he probably doesn't even know anything is wrong or that anyone is looking for him. But I did tell Mildred that he might have gone to the Frost Sisters' pig farm."

Mildred spotted my truck and waved me over. I stopped just near her. She leaned on the open window. "Morning."

"Hey, Mildred. Any news?"

"Just that there is still no change in Haddie Grace and Leon is still missing."

I shook my head. "No one has seen him?"

"Nope. But I posted some spies inside the nursing home to keep a lookout, and I confiscated seventy bottles of that wacky water."

I couldn't help laughing.

"You do know it's just water." Ruth said.

"But they don't," Mildred said. "And that's the trouble."

"So, just tell them." Ruth leaned over me to get a better look at Mildred. "Just tell them."

"Doctor Silver doesn't think that's a good idea just yet. Might be too jarring for some of them, and he also said that a few people like Jasper York are doing pretty well—lower blood pressure and such."

"That is just amazing," Ruth said. "Makes me think about my Hubby Bubby, maybe if Leon Fontaine was here back then he might have been able to convince Bubba he didn't have that tumor."

I looked at her like she had completely lost her mind. "But he still would have had the tumor."

"Anyway," Mildred said. "Keep your eye out and report back to me if you see him."

"Did you go to the pig farm?"

"I called the sisters. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of him and said their pigs were all accounted for and doing just fine."

"That's good. I just thought I should mention it. Now, if I do see him, should I say anything to him?" I asked.

"Nope. Just tell me his location."

"Ten-four," I said.

The nursing home felt a bit subdued when Ruth and I entered. Oh, a few folks were bustling around and there was a lot of chattering going on among residents, but it still felt different, like maybe the magic had worn off. I saw Jasper working on a puzzle with another old man.

Nurse Sally greeted us.

"Is Haddie doing any better?" I asked.

"No, I just got off the phone, and the doctor at the hospital says she's still unconscious. I'm going to try to contact her family today. I hate doing that. They live in Missouri."

"I'd a thought you would have done that by now," Ruth said.

"I tried," Sally said. "I have one phone number and if no one answers the phone there is nothing I can do."

"Telegram?" Ruth said.

"That would be next, but if they aren't home to answer the phone then they wouldn't be home to sign for a telegram."

"Are you OK?" I asked. Sally seemed a little short on patience. Not that I could blame her.

"Oh, yeah. I'm OK. Just tired. Been working a lot of hours."

Ruth appeared pensive a moment and then she tugged on Sally's sleeve. "Oh, oh, I just had a thought." She sort of halflaughed. "Maybe you should get Leon to go to the hospital and talk to Haddie. Maybe she'll listen to him. Maybe she'll wake up for him if he has so much power over these folks."

Sally and I looked at each other like we had both seen the same lightbulb snap on at the same time.

"That is not a bad idea," Sally said. "It couldn't hurt."

"It is a good idea except there is just one problem."

"What's that?" Sally asked. "I'm sure Rich—er, Doctor Silver would allow it."

"Leon Fontaine is missing," I said. Mildred has been looking for him. "No one has seen him. We've been looking all over town."

"Oh, that's why she's been wandering around here like a bloodhound. Sometimes I think that woman doesn't like me. She never talks to me."

"Well, look," I said. "We have to find Leon now. He could be Haddie's only hope."

"That's all fine and dandy," Ruth said. "But if I'm gonna build a dress for Agnes to wear in your wedding I need those measurements—today."

"Don't worry. We'll do that first." R

Agnes was up and in her chair. She actually looked kind of happy and my first thought was that she had gotten hold of some of the Fountain of Youth water, but Agnes didn't believe in it. And you had to be completely sold for the water to work.

"Morning," I said. "Look who I brought."

"Ruth," Agnes said and then smiled as wide as I have ever seen. "It is so nice to see you. Come give me a hug."

Ruth wrapped her arms around Agnes as well as she could and kissed her cheek. "How are you, Agnes? You're looking and feeling skinny."

"Oh, go on. I'm still fat Agnes."

"Now, Agnes, you got to stop thinking of yourself that way. After all, it's not all your fault you got so . . . like this. Now we're here on business."

"Business?" Agnes said. "What kind of business. I haven't seen Leon Fontaine if that's what you mean."

"No, not Leon. Remember I told you Ruth is making your dress? Well, she needs to take some measurements."

"Just three or four or five, maybe six," Ruth said. "I want to be certain the dress fits you right."

"Oh, just dye a horse blanket pink and wrap me up."

"No, no," I said. "And we decided that you should wear red with white and green trim—more like Christmas."

"Oh, dear Lord," Agnes said. "I'm gonna look like a giant tree ornament or Christmas piñata."

"Agnes," I said with my fists on my hips. "Do you
want
to be my maid of honor or not?"

"Of course, of course. Just don't want to be all embarrassed in the process."

"Don't worry about that," Ruth said. "I'm gonna make such a pretty dress. You will feel so nice rolling down the aisle."

Ruth unsnapped her purse and dug deep inside. She pulled out a lipstick, two hankies, a pincushion, three nickels, and lint-covered butterscotch Life Savers, all of which she piled on Agnes's tray table. Then, finally, she pulled out a long tape measure.

"Now don't get upset, Agnes, but I had to string together two tape measures into one, so's to reach all the way around."

Agnes only closed her eyes a second like the words might have stung. I patted her hand.

"OK, let's start at your . . . um . . . bosom. Griselda will you take one end of the measure and just kind of start where you can. And Agnes if you could sit up as straight as you can that will help, and maybe lean forward so I can reach this tape—" she brought the tape measure around her back where I grabbed it. "There, that's it."

"OK," I said. "I got it. Looks like—"

"No, no," Agnes said. "I don't want to hear the number. Just write it down."

And so it went the next several minutes as we took six different measurements including the length of her arm and distance around her bicep.

"All done," Ruth said. "Now I just need to go into Shoops and purchase the fabric and elastic and a wide-brimmed hat and—"

"Hat?" Agnes said. You mean I gotta wear a hat too?"

"Sure," Ruth said. "Don't worry. It'll be so pretty."

Ruth shoved the tape measure and everything else she had fished out of it back into her purse.

"Have you heard any news on Haddie?" Agnes asked.

"Just that she's still unconscious," I said.

"They're looking for Leon Fontaine," Ruth said. "I bet he can call her out of her sleep. You know whisper in her ear. I bet she'll hear him."

Agnes's eyebrows rose. "That might work."

"Except no one can find him," I said. "He just disappeared."

"Oh, he's got to be somewhere. Everyone is somewhere."

"Well, if you see him, let Sally or Mildred know."

"I will."

I smiled into Agnes's tiny eyes. "We should head into Shoops. Lots to do before the wedding, and I haven't even talked to Pastor Speedwell yet."

"Maybe Zeb can do that much," Agnes said.

"I think we should talk to the pastor together," I said.

"That's better yet." Agnes smiled. "I am really happy for you."

"I know you are."

"I just wish I felt better about this whole project. I mean sewing shepherd costumes is one thing but this is a whole other kettle of fish," Ruth said when we got to Old Bessie. "I'm gonna need a lot of fabric, scads of fabric, to make her dress. It might not turn out right. I can't do fittings, and Lord only knows if they make a dress dummy that big. I don't think that they do."

I pulled open the passenger door for her. "You can do it. Just think of it as making quadruple the recipe for lemon squares."

"Maybe, but sewing isn't the same as baking. I thought Thanksgiving was hard enough and now this."

"I was thinking maybe some holly on her hat," I said.

"Ohhh, yeah, that would be fun. Little sprigs of green holly with red berries. I guess I can find plastic holly."

"Why plastic? We got that big old holly tree in the backyard."

"We can do the cutting a few days before the wedding because holly stays pretty well."

When I got on to the main road leading into Bright's Pond, I passed Mildred in her cruiser. She was headed in the direction of Paradise and seemed in a hurry.

"I wonder if they found Leon."

"That poor man. You know he means well."

"Yes. He does, but I suppose he can't just keep doing what he's doing. Not when people are getting hurt."

As we approached the church, I asked Ruth if it would be all right if I took a minute to see if Pastor Speedwell was there and to set up an appointment with him.

"Oh, certainly, Griselda. You go right ahead. I'll just sit here and think on making this dress."

I parked and then walked up the steps and into the church. It was very cold inside, but that wasn't unusual. Pastor Speedwell only kept heat in his office during the week. It saved the church members a boatload of money.

"Pastor," I said with a light rap on his opened office door. "Excuse me, Pastor?"

Pastor Speedwell looked up from his studies. He always reminded me of Abraham Lincoln. Long, square horse face, tall with slightly exaggerated limbs like he just walked off a Norman Rockwell painting.

"Oh, Griselda," he said. "Come on in. Have a seat."

"I can't stay, but I was hoping to set up an appointment for Zeb and me."

"Zeb and you?"

"Guess you're the only one in town who hasn't heard. We're getting married—Christmas Eve—and we'd like you to do the honors."

He stood a moment staring like he was trying to solve a riddle. "That's marvelous. I can see you Monday morning, but Christmas Eve? I don't know. We have the service here at seven o'clock and the singing and—"

"The wedding will be early, around noon if that works."

"Oh, yes indeedy, much better."

"OK, then. I'll . . . Zeb and I will see you Monday."

I turned to leave, but he stopped me. "Griselda, is there anything particular you'd like to discuss?"

My heart quickened. "No, not really, unless, do you ever talk about jealousy?"

He smiled. Wry. Like he instantly understood. It was the first time in all the years that Milton Speedwell has been my pastor that I thought he understood me.

"Oh, and I guess we should discuss the ceremony."

"Of course, Griselda." His voice like velvet now. He folded his hands in front of him. "Good day to you."

I turned to leave. He stopped me again.

"Congratulations," he said.

"OK," I said climbing back into the truck. "That's all set. I need to tell Zeb he wants to meet Monday morning."

Ruth seemed lost in her dressmaking calculations.

"I can do it," she said. "I think just a simple skirt with an elastic waistband. I'll make it so it looks fluffy. And a blouse, no buttons, just a pullover with just a bit of a scoop neckline. That way it'll be two pieces. Much easier to dress her. You can pin a big corsage of poinsettias on her."

"Sounds good."

The Shoops Dry Goods store was located on the same block as the Pink Lady Café. I've eaten there often with Ruth and Zeb. You could usually get a decent hamburger. In good weather they had dining
al fresco
on little bistro tables. In winter the patio was barren except for dried leaves congregating in the corners and remnants of snow and ice that lingered in the shadows.