In Search of Sam (8 page)

My head is buzzing
like a bee's nest. Alex has stirred up so many ideas, I don't know which one to act on first. All I know is that if I can convert my brain waves into actual plans, I might have the answers to a lot of people's problems. As soon as I get back to The Apple Tree and give George her medicine, I hole up in my bedroom to make some phone calls.

First my mother.

“Hey, Mom,” I say when she picks up, “did you get the photos I sent you?”

“On my phone?”

“Yes.” Obviously my mother hasn't checked her messages. “I sent them a few minutes ago.”

“I was talking with a client. As soon as I hung up, you called. I haven't had a chance to check for messages.”

“Do it now. Please,” I add before she can get on my case for being pushy or rude — maybe both. “Then call me back. This is important.”

I end the call before she can protest. If she wants to give me heck, she'll have to return my call.

After two minutes, my phone is still quiet. I stare at it hard, willing it to ring. When it does, I pick up before it's even finished its first chime.

“Well?” I blurt anxiously.

“Yes, I am well. Thanks for asking, Dani.”

“Mother!” I fume. “Don't be funny. What did you think of the pictures? Isn't the pottery fabulous?”

She laughs. “Good Lord, Dani. I can't remember the last time you were this excited. What's gotten into you? Does this have something to do with Sam?”

That takes a bit of the wind out of my sails. It also surprises me a little. I
am
excited, but it
isn't
about Sam. In fact, for the last hour I haven't thought about Sam at all. A wave of guilt washes over me, but I can't let it douse my fire, so I push it from my mind. “No. It doesn't. Every lead I've followed has fizzled out — so far. That doesn't mean I'm giving up, though,” I add hastily. “I'm sure somebody around here knows something. I just haven't found that person yet.

“That's not why I called,” I say, steering the conversation back on track. “What do you think of the pottery?”

“It's beautiful,” Mom says. “Truly. Who's the artist?”

Though my mother can't see me, I smile. “I knew you'd like it. That's why I got you a piece — the platter.”

Mom gasps. “Oh, Dani, thank you, but it must have cost a small fortune!”

“You're worth it,” I tease. “Actually it was free, though I did try to pay. The artist wouldn't take my money.”

“Why on earth not?”

“It's a long story, but let's just say she gave me a pretty hard time my first few days in Farrow, and the platter was her way of apologizing.”

“Wow. That's some apology. It's a gorgeous piece. As are the others you sent pictures of. Such a unique style. Strange I haven't seen any of your friend's work in Vancouver. Anywhere, for that matter. What is her name?”

“Alex Burke. She's young, Mom. A year older than me. She's only been selling her stuff for a few months, and as you can imagine, there's not much of a market in Farrow.”

I've reached the tricky part of the conversation. I lick my lips before wading in. “She's so talented, Mom.”

“I can see that.”

“I thought her work was exactly the sort of thing you use in your designs.”

“It is, most definitely. If you're hinting that you'd like me to buy more of her work, you can relax. I'd be happy to. The girl has talent.”

I breathe a little easier. One obstacle down; one to go. “That's great. Thanks. Alex will be so thrilled.” I clear my throat before continuing. “I was thinking.” I pause, trying to decide how best to couch my words.

“Uh-oh,” Mom says. “I always get a little nervous when you start thinking.”

Since I can't back out now, I steamroll ahead. “Well, I was wondering . . . you said yourself you haven't seen anything like Alex's pottery anywhere in Vancouver … so I thought maybe . . . you know because you have so many connections . . . well, I thought if you showed some of the retailers her work . . . I'm not asking you to become her agent or anything . . . but —”

Mom laughs for the second time during the conversation. “For goodness sake, Dani, finish a sentence. What you're not saying is you want me to see if I can find some outlets for Alex's work.”

I heave a huge sigh. “Yes. She only has until June to become self-sufficient. After that her father cuts off her allowance, and she'll be forced to give up her art and go to university. Do you really think she can make a living at this?”

“I know so. Eventually, I'm going to need actual samples of the product, but in the meantime, send as many photos as you can, and I'll see what I can do.”

I give her Alex's website address. “Thanks,” I say. “You're a lifesaver, Mom.”

“Hey, I said I'd ask around. Don't go popping the cork on the champagne just yet. Wait until I've made some inquiries. It may take a few days.”

“I know you'll come through,” I say again. “You're the best, Mom. I love you. Now could you put Reed on?”

“What?” she squeaks. “Talk about the bum's rush. Good thing I love you too. Hang on.” And though she covers up the phone, I hear her yell for Reed.

“Hey, Dani,” he says as soon as he takes the phone, and I can't help wondering if my mother is right beside him, listening in. “How's it going?”

“Good, Reed.” I know I should make small talk, but I'm too excited. I zoom right to the point. “Have you found a site yet for your new brewery redistribution centre?”

He chuckles, just like my mother did. Obviously I'm pretty darn amusing this morning. “No,” he says, and though he's stopped laughing, I can tell he's still smiling. “But I'm guessing
you
have.”

I know he's teasing me, but I don't care. “As a matter of fact, I think I might have. You said you want it to be in a small town, right?”

“Right.”

“But near a main highway.”

“Yup.”

“In the Okanagan.”

“Right again.”

“You're looking to hire local people?”

“Might as well give them the work as anyone.”

“Then I think I have just the place. Farrow.”

“That little town you're in right now?”

“Yes. There's a perfect location here for your plant. The government took over some property for unpaid taxes, so you could probably get it dirt cheap. You'd have to pave a couple of miles of road, but you told me you'd probably have to upgrade roads anyway, since they can't always stand up to truck traffic.”

“That's true.”

“I don't know anything about zoning, building codes, government bureaucracy, or any of that stuff, but I really think you should take a look at this place, Reed. It has potential. The population has been dwindling since the mining companies and railroad pulled out, because there's no industry. The distribution centre could be that industry. It could be the answer for you
and
Farrow. And if your company is bringing work and money into the area, people would stay, and the government would have to provide more amenities. Wouldn't it?”

That makes him laugh again. “Possibly, but don't go getting ahead of yourself. I haven't seen anything else I like so far, so it doesn't hurt to take a look at Farrow. But don't go getting your hopes up. I'll check out the logistics of the town, and if there's a possibility of working something out, I'll come up and see the place. Give me a couple of days. I can come up there on Wednesday. Hang on a second, Dani.” I can hear my mother in the background, and then Reed's back on the line. “Correction. My social director — aka your mother — informs me
we
can come up on Wednesday. She says she'll have some answers for you then about whatever it is you were talking to her about, and I can take a look around Farrow. That gives you a few more days to continue your search for Sam. Then we can all drive back to Vancouver together.”

I don't want to commit to that last part. Not yet. But I don't want to risk jeopardizing the headway I've made this morning either, so I don't baulk. I simply say I'll phone before he and Mom leave Vancouver, and I'll see them on Wednesday.

One more call to make. This one's a long shot, but I'm on a roll, and neither Farrow nor I have anything to lose. But Sam's old friend might have something to gain — and give.

“Hello, Arlo. It's Dani Lancaster. How are you?”

“Dani! Hey yourself. I wasn't expecting to hear from you quite so soon. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed our little talk the other day. Sam has been on my mind ever since. I thought of a bunch more stories. Maybe we can get together again one of these days and I can tell them to you over another cup of coffee.

“How about Tuesday?” I say. “That's your day off, right?”

He sputters for a few seconds. I've clearly caught him off guard. “Are you coming back to Barriere?” he finally asks.

“Actually, I was hoping you might come to Farrow,” I say. “That's the town Sam was left in as a baby. That's where I am now. You could take the bus to Merritt — I'll pay, of course — and I'll pick you up there and bring you to Farrow. You might need more than one day, though,” I tell him. “If you can't get another day off work with pay, I can cover your wages too. This is kind of important.”

“What are you talking about, girl? You're not making any sense. Does this have something to do with Sam?”

I smile. “Actually, yes. It does. Arlo, do you remember how you said you regretted that you would never be able to pay Sam back for helping you when you were down, and I said you could pay it forward?”

“Uh-huh,” he replies warily.

“Well, I think I have a way for you to do that. I have a proposition. Farrow is an amazing little town, but it's dying. It has lots of potential, but it's not being tapped. It needs somebody to organize things. What I'm hoping is that you'll be that somebody. I would like to hire you as a consultant.”

“A consultant?” He seems truly surprised. “I'm an over-the-hill rodeo cowboy, not a consultant. You're barkin' up the wrong tree here, Dani.”

“I don't think so,” I say. “I know you're not trained or anything, but I have a feeling you might just be what this little town needs. You know people, and the success you've had with the rodeo in Barriere proves you have organizational skills.”

“What would you be wanting me to do?”

“Well, a few things, actually. There are many gifted artisans in this town, but they aren't organized and they don't know about marketing. I thought maybe you could help them set up a guild, so that they can work together and learn how to make a living at what they do. That would include organizing a spring and fall fair to showcase their wares. It would need to draw people from all over B.C. — even farther if that's possible! That can't be that different than putting on a rodeo, can it? And finally, I'd like you to help the locals organize an annual rodeo, like you do in Barriere. There used to be one here in Farrow, so there is a venue, but that was a long time ago, and it needs work.”

I take a deep breath before continuing. “I know this is asking a ton, but it would be the perfect way to pay Sam back. This was his town. You don't have to give me your answer right away. I know you need to think about it. All I'm asking for now is that you come and check the place out.”

“One question. If Farrow is dying, where's the money coming from to pay for this?”

There's no point in lying, so I say, “Sam left me an inheritance. I think he'd like to see it used to save his town.”

Arlo chuckles. It is clearly my day to tickle people's funny bones.

“What are you laughing at?”

“I was just thinking that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

When I get off the phone
with Arlo, I'm flying high. If everything works out, Alex's pottery business is going to take off and she won't have to move to Ontario, Reed will create much-needed jobs for Farrow residents by relocating part of his brewery operation, and Arlo will organize the locals so that the town's personality has a way to shine.

Though George insists she's feeling much better, I make lunch.

As she blows on her soup, she eyes me suspiciously. “What are you grinning at, girl? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.”

I sigh happily. “It's spring. I love spring.”

“Hogwash,” she snorts. “That is not a
gay-as-the-buds-of-May
smile you're wearing. It's a
you're-up-to-something
leer. You're up to your eyebrows in a plot, or my name's not George Washington.”

I shrug and change the subject. “Do you have a bucket and rag I can use, George? And a hose? I thought I'd wash my car this afternoon. It got pretty dirty yesterday.”

She nods.

“Great.” Then I remember about Arlo coming. “Also, do you have another room you can let for one night? Someone I know is coming to Farrow, and he'll need a place to stay.”

She wags her finger at me. “I don't tolerate any funny business in this house.”

I choke on my soup. When I stop coughing, I gape at George. “Arlo isn't my boyfriend!”

“Arlo, is it?” she harrumphs. “And who might he be when he's out, and why is he coming to Farrow?”

“He's a friend of my father's. And he's coming to Farrow to talk to me about Sam.” There's no point in telling George the real reason I asked Arlo to come. And anyway, I'm not really lying. I'm sure Arlo and I
will
talk about Sam. “You're awfully inquisitive.”

“Just doing a background check. I'm an old woman. I can't be too careful about who I take in. Axe murderers can make a big mess.”

Of course that makes me laugh. I shake my head. “Do you have any idea how ornery you get when you're not feeling well?”

She scowls at me over her soup spoon. “Nonsense and horse feathers. I'm feeling just fine.”

“Then it's okay for Arlo to stay here?”

“Hmmph,” she mumbles.

I take that as a yes. “It will just be the one night,” I assure her. “And when he leaves, I'll change the bedding, so you don't have to worry about putting your back out again. By the way, my mom and stepdad are coming up from Vancouver on Wednesday.”

“You're just a regular little social butterfly, aren't you?” she says. “Are they staying here too?”

“Well, that depends on you,” I tell her. “If it's going to be too much work for you, I'm sure they'll be fine with getting a motel in Merritt.”

She waves away my words. “Don't be ridiculous. I told you I'm fine. Besides, I'm sure your mother and I will have a lot to talk about.”

I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, and I don't ask.

I slosh warm, soapy water onto my Honda and start to scrub. The bubbly white suds quickly turn muddy. I hose them away and watch as a tiny river of dirty water trickles down the road and slithers off the pavement into the grassy verge. When I'm done, water droplets bead on my car and sparkle in the sun like a million miniature prisms.

I step back to admire my work. A passing motorist honks and gives me a thumbs-up. I smile and wave. Already I feel a part of this place.

After putting away the car-washing supplies, I head to my room. I peel off my dirty shirt and reach blindly into my suitcase for a fresh one. My hand touches something hard, smooth, and cold. It's the framed photo of Sam that the Sheffields gave me. The sight of it reminds me that I haven't achieved what I came here to do, and a little of the sunshine leaks out of the day.

Picking up the photo, I drop onto the bed. I stare at Sam, and he stares back.
Well?
his eyes say. I sigh and look away. Well, indeed. Since I started this journey to find the missing pieces of my father's life, I've learned a lot about Sam, the person, but nothing about his parents and the rest of his family.

The rest of
my
family. I have to keep reminding myself that it's my family too. For seventeen years I knew who I was — at least who
I
thought I was, but I took my identity — my ancestry — for granted. It just
was
, like my hair colour and my shoe size. Then suddenly half of my family tree gets ripped away and there's a gaping hole in my life. Half of me is missing. Maybe it shouldn't bother me, but it does. I need to know where I came from in order to understand who I am.

But it's like peering into a black cave. I know there's something in there, but all I see is darkness.

I set the photo on the night table and rummage through my backpack for the half-heart necklace. It's cold, like the clue it provides. I run my finger over the rough edge where it's been cut. Why would someone do that? To share the heart, for sure — but why? And with whom? Did Sam's mother give him half and keep half, as a way of staying connected to him?

It bothers me that I don't know, and even more that I may never know. There are so many things I might never find out. And the really awful part is that I could grow old and die without ever getting any answers. In three days my mom and Reed will be here, and when they leave, I'll be leaving with them. There is no way my mother will go back to Vancouver without me, and that means the end of my search for Sam.

I slip the chain around my neck and tuck the heart inside my shirt. Then I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling. How did the day go from exhilarating to depressing in just a few minutes?

This morning everything was roses. I was so sure all my little schemes were going to work out. Alex was going to make a go of her pottery business, Reed was going to set up his distribution centre in Farrow, and Arlo was going to promote the town's culture. What the heck was I thinking? I'm eighteen years old, for goodness sake — how can I still believe in fairy tales? Nothing turns out happily ever after. Especially not the kind of stuff I'm trying to pull off. Save a town! Piece of cake. Send an artist to the top! No problem.

I think Alex is an amazing potter, but it takes more than talent to make a business fly. I've seen how hard my mom works at her designing business. Reed too, with his brewery. There's no way I could do all the stuff they do, and yet I'm still naïve enough to think that all Alex needs to succeed is a few marketing connections. And what if Mom can't generate interest in Alex's work? All she has are a few photos. She doesn't even have any actual pieces of pottery to show people.

And what about Arlo? He's a really nice guy, and though he may have experience helping with the Barriere rodeo, he's no urban planner. I'm bringing him to Farrow on a hunch — a gut feeling. But what does he actually know about planning a community fair or organizing a guild? I was counting on him to help showcase Farrow's personality, but what if he can't?

I cringe when I think of my proposal to Reed. Yes, he is looking to relocate his distribution centre, and he did say he wanted somewhere away from a city, but Farrow might be just a little
too
far away. What if Farrow doesn't meet the needs of the brewery at all? What if Reed takes one look at the place and thinks I brought him here on a wild goose chase? He'll never trust me again.

I feel sick. I thought I was helping everyone, but what if all I'm really doing is poking my nose where it doesn't belong? Maybe Alex was right about that. I might be making things worse instead of better. If things go sideways, the residents of Farrow could chase me out of town. And Reed will be right there, cheering them on.

“Aren't you Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde today,” George says at dinner.

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, at lunch time you were grinning like a Cheshire cat, and now you look like you might throttle someone. Even when I was going through the change, I never had mood swings that big. But since you wouldn't tell me what had you walking on air at lunchtime, I doubt you'll tell me what's got your knickers in a twist now.”

“I'm fine,” I grumble.

George turns back to her supper. “That's what I thought.”