Talk of the Town (12 page)

Jane was making a light evening meal for herself, Louise, Alice, Maxwell and Clothilda. They rarely invited inn guests to dinner, but Jane had felt sorry for both the lonely young man and the European woman so far from home, so she had asked them both to dine with the sisters.

She was washing up some of her prep dishes when she heard the front door open and close. She dried off her hands and walked toward the front of the house.

A middle-aged woman stood at the desk, fingers nervously pleating the fabric of the denim skirt she wore.

“Welcome to Grace Chapel Inn,” Jane said. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like to speak to one of the Howard sisters,” the woman said.

“I’m Jane Howard.”

“I’m Barbara Candori. You’re the folks who advertised about the lost cat?”

Jane felt her heart leap into her throat. “Yes, we are. Do you have information about Wendell?”

“I might be able to do better than that. I’ve had a cat hanging around my house for the past few days, so this morning I caught it.”

“Have you seen one of our posters?” Jane asked eagerly. “Does the cat look like the one in the picture?”

“I haven’t seen the poster,” the woman said. “My friend Ella has, though. When I called her about the cat, she remembered seeing the poster in town. She lives a lot closer to Potterston than I do, so she drove in and wrote down the information. This is a gray cat with four white feet. I’m afraid I don’t remember the color of its tail, and I was afraid to open the box again.”

Jane tried to stay calm. “Is there a time I could come to your home and see the cat?”

“It’s right out here in my car.”

“Oh!” Jane followed the woman outside to a gray minivan. Barbara opened the back and pulled what looked like a sturdy fruit crate toward her. It had large slits in the sides, ensuring that plenty of air got in.

“Kitty, kitty,” Jane called softly. “Come here and let me see you.” She pulled the crate into the light and peered through the slits but all she could see was shadowy movement.

Carefully, she pulled back one of the flaps on the long side of the box, keeping her hand over the opening. Pulling back the other long flap, she took a deep breath as she reached in and lifted out a cat.

The moment her hands touched it, her heart sank. The fur was long and extremely silky. And when she lifted it, she didn’t have to put any
oomph
behind it as she did when she lifted Wendell, who could only be described as an extremely healthy fellow. This cat was much smaller.

She lifted it out anyway. It was a gray tabby, and just like the last close call, it had four white paws. But there the resemblance ended. The hair was long and a much, much lighter gray than Wendell’s. Disappointment swamped Jane. She cuddled the cat to her and closed her eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Barbara Candori. “I can’t tell you how I appreciate your efforts, but this is not my cat.” She sighed as the cat snuggled closer, obviously sensing a kind heart. “But someone must be missing this one. She’s very friendly.”

“She?”

“Just a guess,” Jane said. “I really don’t know. But it’s very petite, isn’t it?”

“It is. Would you like to have it? You don’t have to give me a reward or anything.”

Jane sadly shook her head. “No, thank you. Our cat is going to be found one of these days.”

Distress crossed Barbara’s face. “I can’t keep it either. My husband said absolutely not. But I don’t want to just take it to the shelter. You know what happens to cats at the shelter.”

“My sister and I visited there and it seems like a very nice facility,” Jane said. “But I understand your concern.” She thought for a moment. “Let me make a telephone call. We have a friend who rescues cats all the time. Perhaps she could take this one.”

“Oh, I would appreciate that so much,” Barbara said.

Jane reluctantly returned the feline to its box. It had felt so good to hold a cat again. Leading the way indoors, she pulled out the telephone book from beneath the desk and quickly looked up Viola Reed’s number. Dialing, she signaled to Barbara to wait while she listened to it ring.

“Hello?” Viola’s greeting sounded more like a demand for information, typical of her strong personality.

“Hi, Viola, it’s Jane Howard.”

“Jane. Hello. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. I’m calling because I need your help with something. I have a lady here who found a cat. She thought it might be Wendell but it isn’t, and she doesn’t want to take it to the shelter. It’s a small, long-haired adult and seems very sweet. Is there any chance you might be able to take it?”

Viola was silent for a minute.

Jane began to think desperately of other options. She was on the verge of thanking Viola for her time when Viola said, “You know, I placed two yesterday. And I had a call from someone looking for a long-haired cat just this morning. Have your friend bring it by. Even if that placement doesn’t work out, I’m sure I can find it a home.”

“Oh, Viola, thank you!” Jane cried. “You are a gem. I’ll send her right over.”

“So you’ve had no luck finding Wendell yet?”

“No,” Jane said. “We can’t think of much else to do except pray at this point.”

“I’m sorry.” Viola’s voice was gentle. “Cats are such special spirits. It’s devastating to lose a friend like that.”

“It is,” Jane agreed.

Ending the conversation, Jane turned to Barbara, who was looking delighted. “Viola can take her if you don’t mind driving the cat to her. She owns Nine Lives bookstore in town. She thinks she may even have a home for it.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news,” Barbara said fervently. “Thank you so much.” Her smile faded as she realized Jane couldn’t be feeling quite as happy. “I hope you find your cat. I’ll pray that he is safe and gets home soon.”

Jane swallowed, near tears. “That means a lot, Barbara. We need all the prayers we can get.”

Chapter Eleven

D
inner with their two guests was a pleasant time. Alice watched Maxwell interact with the older women. His often-stilted speech and behavior seemed to fit far more naturally among people her age than they would among young twenty-somethings like himself. She wondered what those boarding schools had been like.

She helped her sisters clear the table and wash up after the meal, and then went out onto the back porch to begin tying up newspapers. The sisters saved and recycled their newspapers and a number of other items, taking them to a local recycling center whenever they filled up their storage containers. Tomorrow she would make a run to the recycling center.

“Hello, Alice. Is there some way I may help?” Maxwell came onto the porch and stopped when he saw her.

“Oh,” Alice said. “I’m just tying up these papers for recycling.”

“Ah. A worthy endeavor.” He stepped to her side and grabbed a stack of papers, then picked up one of the lengths of sturdy twine she already had cut. “If you’ll show me what to do, I’ll be happy to help.”

“All right. Thank you.” Alice thought it a little odd that he appeared to have no idea how to tie up the papers. “I guess they didn’t teach this at your boarding schools.”

The young man laughed, and once more, Alice was struck by the ease he seemed to be developing in the company of her and her sisters. “No. My education ran more to the classics, dance and deportment lessons, several languages and the all-important maths and sciences.”

“Tell me about dance and deportment. I’m familiar with the rest, but my education didn’t include lessons in those areas.”

“Let’s see… From the time I was about ten years old, I attended something called cotillion, where we were taught ballroom dances such as the waltz, the two-step and the rumba. We learned how to ask for a dance, how to partner the lady, and we were taught manners. We practiced basic courtesy and table manners all the time, anyway, but we learned how to take tea, how to introduce people properly and how to bow, things like that.”

“Have your bowing lessons proven valuable in everyday life?” Alice asked with a smile. Good manners were important, but taking classes to learn to bow seemed to her a little extreme.

“You must understand, Alice, that I was not groomed to live an everyday life. My father socializes mainly with those with blue blood and pots of money. He expected me to do the same.”

“And you aren’t?”

He smiled, but Alice thought there was a sad resignation behind it. “No. I don’t fit into that world any better than I fit anywhere else, and choosing to pursue higher degrees in something so far from the business world as psychology has made me even more different.”

“There is nothing wrong with being different,” Alice said softly.

“No. But different can get lonely.” He kept his gaze on the twine he was tying.

“It can,” Alice agreed. “I sometimes felt that way years ago when all my friends were marrying and having children. I wasn’t unhappy in my choices, but I didn’t always feel that I fit in very well.”

He nodded. “Exactly. I enjoy my studies.”

“What will you do once you’ve finished your doctorate?”

“Teaching and research. I want to work somewhere in an academic atmosphere that allows me to pursue research in a direction I find interesting.”

Alice cocked her head. “And your father doesn’t perceive that as a successful career choice?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I spent years trying to show him how smart I was, to make him proud of me. He rarely seemed to notice me. So now I just worry about making choices that will make me happy.”

But it couldn’t be that simple, Alice thought. Inside Maxwell was a little boy to whom it still mattered desperately that he please his father.

“I haven’t told anyone else this,” he went on, looking over at her earnestly “but I sent resumes to several universities that have positions open on staff. There’s one I particularly would like to get, but I am quite certain the competition will be fierce. I already have had an interview, but I have not received any further word, and I suspect I am not being considered for it.”

“Don’t give up hope yet,” Alice said. “I don’t know enough about your work to be any kind of judge, but I imagine you’re very good at it and that you interview well.”

His gaze slid away from hers. “We’ll have to wait and see.” He patted the bundle of papers. “Here you go.”

On Thursday at lunchtime, Alice stopped in at the Coffee Shop while she was running some errands. She was curious to learn if people still were talking about the Bigfoot theory.

The moment she walked through the door, she had her answer.

“… did not find any further evidence and we believe it must be nocturnal,” Florence Simpson was saying to a group around her.

The group consisted of Ronald, Fred Humbert, Maxwell and several other local people.

“Alice!” Florence sang out.

Mustering a smile, Alice turned toward the counter. She had come in to see what was going on, she reminded herself. And, boy, now was she going to find out.

“Hello, Florence,” Alice said. “Hi, everyone.”

“Hi, Alice,” said Maxwell. “We’re talking about the Bigfoot.”

“Oh?”

“We took a second hike this morning,” said Ronald, looking a bit embarrassed.

“We had a nice walk, but didn’t find anything,” added Fred Humbert. “Then again, I didn’t expect to find anything.”

“There
is
something out there to be found,” said Florence sharply. “We must keep seeking until we find it. Just think— we could put Acorn Hill on the map.”

Alice thought that putting their town on the map with the wild claim of finding Bigfoot probably would not thrill most of Acorn Hill’s residents.

“Ronald and I believe the creature must be nocturnal,” Florence explained to Alice what she had been saying when Alice entered. “Therefore, the key to finding it is to seek it out when it is active.”

Ronald looked pained. “Florence thinks we should make an overnight expedition tomorrow near the pond in hopes of—”

“In hopes of catching it on camera,” Florence interrupted. “If we could get a photograph of it, we could send the photo along with the hair and a cast of the footprint to a scientist for analysis.”

“But we don’t have a footprint,” Alice reminded her. “Yes, Ronald and I saw a large print, but the storm—”

“I propose to have you work with an artist,” Florence interjected. “You know, Alice, like the police do when they have a witness who can describe someone?”

Alice thought that was the most ridiculous idea she had heard in a very long time. “Florence, footprints don’t have distinguishing features. Faces have eyes, noses, mouths, all of which can be very distinctive. All I could tell you about these prints is that they were big and broad. Period.”

“Well, no matter.” Florence dismissed this objection with an airy wave of her hand. “We still have the hair and the creature’s picture.”

“Assuming there is a creature to get a picture of,” Fred said logically.

Florence glared at him. “If you’re coming along on this expedition tomorrow night, you can’t think so negatively. The creature might sense negative energy.”

“Sorry, Florence.” Fred glanced at Alice, and she read his expression perfectly.
Somebody needs to stop this silliness
.

“Alice,” said Ronald, “you’ll come, won’t you? After all, we were the first adults to see the tracks.”

“Oh, I don’t think so… ” Alice wished she had work as an excuse but unless she got an emergency call to take a shift tomorrow evening, she wasn’t scheduled. “I’ll just hear the report when you get back.”

“You have to come, Alice,” said Florence. “Ronald’s right. You two had the first sighting. It’s important that you be there for the filming.”

“Can I come?” Bobby Dawson pushed forward eagerly.

Florence frowned. She and Ronald had no children of their own and Florence was not known to be particularly maternal. “Only if your parents give permission,” she said. “And one of them comes along,” she added slyly.

“
Aww
. My folks hate camping,” Bobby grumbled. “They’ll never go for that.”

“I’d like to come, if I may,” Maxwell said.

“Certainly,” said Florence. “The more, the merrier. Adults, that is,” she added with a glance at Bobby to be sure he had gotten the message.

“I’ll go if you go, Alice,” said Fred. “I doubt Vera will come. Camping’s not really her thing.”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Florence said dismissively. “Of course she must come. I wouldn’t want her to miss it.”

“I really don’t think—”

“Why don’t we plan to pursue our little expedition tomorrow night?” Florence plowed right over Fred’s objection.

“All right,” said Fred reluctantly. “I’ll ask Vera.”

“Wonderful!” Florence rose majestically from the stool where she had been holding court. “Let’s go, Ronald. We must check out all our camping gear and purchase supplies.”

“Supplies?”

“Well, of course. What do you think we’re going to eat while we’re on this hunt?”

As Ronald followed her out, Fred began to chuckle. “This should be interesting.”

Alice turned and grinned at him. “You do realize Vera is going to scalp you when she learns you volunteered her to spend a night in the woods with Florence, right?”

Thursday after school, Alice’s ANGELs were being driven by their parents to the nursing home. This was the afternoon that the ANGELs were hosting the nursing home residents’ senior prom. As Alice began to carry her boxes of decorations out to the car, Maxwell came down the stairs.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Going to a senior prom,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “These are the decorations.”

“A senior prom…?” He looked totally bewildered.

Alice laughed. “You’ve heard me mention the group of girls I work with, the ANGELs. We’re going to a nursing home to host a tea dance for the residents. Oh, it won’t be a real dance,” she said as she saw a question in his eyes. “Some of the residents are nonambulatory and many of them use walkers or canes. But we plan to dress up, play music and help them move as much as they are able.”

He was smiling. To Alice’s surprise, he said, “I don’t suppose you would let me come along, would you?”

Alice hesitated, completely unprepared for the request.

“Oh, never mind,” he said. “It just sounded interesting.”

“Maxwell, I would be delighted to have you come along,” Alice said. “You just caught me off-guard.”

“I think I caught myself off-guard,” he said, sounding a little surprised.

“We can always use an extra pair of hands to decorate. Please do come.”

“All right.” He turned to take the last box to her car. “I’ll carry this out, and then I’ll run up and put on a suit.”

Alice’s eyebrows rose as he dashed off. He was really taking this seriously. She glanced down at her dress, a pretty floral pattern in pinks, lavenders and greens. Oh, those feather boas were going to look amazing with it, she thought, amused at herself.

When they arrived at the nursing home, they carried the boxes inside. The ANGELs began to arrive and everyone pitched in to help with decorating. Maxwell, with his height and long arms, was quite popular with anyone who needed to hang something from a higher spot. And Alice was pleased to note that he interacted very pleasantly with the girls. Ten minutes before the residents were to begin arriving, the girls rushed off to the visitors’ restroom to don their “prom dresses.”