Treasure Uncovered (Bellingwood #3) (21 page)

"Anything is great."

"Hickory Park is a tradition around here," he began and Polly interrupted him.

"And you can get ice cream, too!" she laughed.

Sal shrugged. "Really. Whatever you want to do, I'm ready for it. I'm here for the experience."

"I'll text Mark, then," Polly said. "Henry, can you drive?"

"My truck?" he asked.

"Well, it's either your truck, my truck or Mark's truck. Yours has the easiest access for four people and is probably the cleanest of all of them."

He looked a little bemused, "Sure. Tell Mark to meet us here and I'll drive my truck."

Polly texted Mark with the details and he wrote back,
"And here I thought this might not happen."

"Why would you think that? I never cancel plans,"
she wrote back.

"You're right. I should have known better. I'll dress in my best overalls and see you later."

"Brat."

"And you love me for it."

"We're set," she said to Sal and Henry.

They had finished eating and were cleaning up when another knock was heard. Before Polly made it past the kitchen peninsula, Sylvie stuck her head in. "Did I miss breakfast?" she asked.

Polly looked guilty and said, "I should have brought it all downstairs, shouldn't I!"

"Oh stop it, you crazy girl! I caught the scent when I opened the door just now and it smells heavenly."

"It was," Henry laughed. He handed Polly the dish towel and said, "I need to get downstairs and move people along or you will never have a garage."

He touched Sylvie's arm as he passed her and was out the door and gone before Polly could say anything more.

"What's up, Sylvie?" she asked.

"I was coming up to say good morning and see if you heard anything about Beryl. Will she go home today? I thought I'd take food over for her."

"The doctor's appointment is at ten thirty and both she and Andy are pretty certain he will tell her that she's fine. We're meeting at Davey's for lunch if you want to join us."

"I don't have time for that today, but thanks," Sylvie said.

"Did you know Eliseo was working this morning? He beat me to the barn," Polly said.

"He told me last night that he wasn't going to be able to lie around any longer than a day. I'm not surprised. Did you talk to Henry about a room downstairs for him?"

"Darn! No I didn't. And I should do that right now. Maybe we can get something in place yet today."

"Do you have any extra beds around?"

Polly thought for a moment and shook her head. "I don't. And it takes so long for them to deliver something up here. Shoot, I should have spent more time thinking about this yesterday."

"We'll come up with something."

"You know, he told me this morning that he would manage. I don't know if he'd particularly like a couple of women trying to figure his life out for him," Polly said.

"He can get over that," Sylvie snapped. "Stupid men. They think they don't need anyone and then they end up in a little town in Iowa all by themselves with no place to live. There isn't a woman I know who would put up with that crap."

Polly laughed and heard Sal snickering behind her. "You're right! You know what? You go talk to Henry, will you?"

Sylvie looked at her in confusion. "Me? He works with you."

"No, you go talk to him because Sal and I are going to haul ourselves down to Boone and buy a bed. They'll load it up in my truck and before Eliseo even knows what happened, we'll find a way for him to stay here until he gets his own place."

Polly turned around and said, "Are you okay with this, Sal?"

Sal put her dish towel down on the counter and said, "Wherever you want me to go, I go. I'm ready."

Sylvie left and Polly made sure the coffee pot and oven were all turned off. Sal went across to her room for a jacket and they headed downstairs. Henry met them outside by her truck with a handful of rope and bungee ties.

"Make sure they strap things in tightly. I know it isn't a long trip back, but you don't want to lose anything. Be safe, okay?" He put the items in Polly's truck behind her seat and said, "We'll be ready when you get back, but you know he could have stayed with me for a while."

"He wasn't going to stay with you. I don't even know if he'll let me do this for him. I think he'd rather sleep in my barn than allow people to help him, but that changes today," Polly announced.

"You go get 'em, girl," Henry said. "We'll clear the space and be ready."

Polly and Sal made their way to the furniture store in Boone and went inside. Of course, they wanted to sell her more than she was willing to buy. Fancy was not what she wanted. She finally settled on a simple frame and headboard and a comfortable mattress. She chose a bedside table and lamp as well as a rug to put on the concrete floor.

Sal asked, "Do you have bedding?"

"No!" Polly cried. "I'm glad you remembered."

With the bed tightly strapped in, they made one more quick stop to pick up bedding, then hurried back to Bellingwood. She pulled up to the front door and Jeff and Henry came out to meet them.

"I told Eliseo what you were doing," Jeff said. "I figured you wanted me to deal with him. Is that alright?"

Polly said, "As long as he isn't upset with me, it's perfect!"

"He's surprised and not too pleased, but I told him you're this way with everyone."

She laughed, "Maybe a little. I'll give you that. Let's get this inside and set up. Sal and I are going to lunch at Davey's and I want this to be done before we leave."

Sal pulled the bags of bedding out of the cab of the truck and Polly reached in to grab the lamp. Sylvie showed up and took that from her, so Polly waited for the bed of her truck to be unpacked. As soon as the box springs were out, she was able to muscle the mattress enough to get to the frame and grabbed parts of it and headed inside and down the steps.

Henry and Jeff had cleared out one of the back rooms. She set down her load and went back up to help bring the rest down. Soon, it was unloaded and she and Sylvie unrolled the rug. It filled the room and they arranged the bedframe on top of it. When everything was set into place and the lamp was turned on, the room actually looked quite warm.

"This will be fine for the short term," Polly said. "Thank you."

Jeff said, "Eliseo is avoiding us. He's in the auditorium setting up for this evening's reception."

"Would you send him down," she asked. "I want him to hear from me that he has to accept this with grace."

Jeff smiled and rolled his eyes, "I'll tell him. He won't like it, but I'll tell him."

Sylvie said, "I'm out of here. I don't want to be around for this." She grabbed some of the plastic wrapping and headed for the stairs.

Henry and Sal did the same. Sal turned around and said, "I'll be playing with your animals. Come find me, okay?"

"I’ll be up in a bit," Polly acknowledged. After they left, she sat down on the bed and looked around. This would work.

In a few moments, she heard footsteps on the stairs and soon, Eliseo walked in. Before she could speak, he said, "Miss Giller, this is too much. I would have figured it out on my own."

She didn't move, just sat on the bed and looked at him, then said, "You know. I've had it pretty easy all my life. I didn't have to do things I didn't want to do in order to make a living. When I bought this building, one of my dreams was to be able to make it possible for other people to find relief from the things that stopped them from being creative. I'm not an artist or an author; I don't shoot beautiful photographs or design homes. I can cook, but I'm not a chef. I'm just Polly and I've been fortunate. But sometimes people have to kill themselves in order to live and when they have a few free moments, they use themselves all up trying to create beauty they can share with the world.

"So, I fixed this place and as we grow, I hope people will come here for a short time and feel like we took care of them so they could be creative without worrying about all those things that make life stressful.

"At the same time, though, I want this to be a safe place for the people who work with me to make that happen for our guests. I like you a lot. I want you to be here for a long time. You are good with my animals and this morning I watched Nan react to you in a way she never has with me. She loves you. Jeff likes you and Sylvie reacted to your pain yesterday like I've never seen her react to anyone before. In a short period of time, you've created relationships with both my animals and my staff and you're doing a great job around here.

"I can offer a lot to my guests and my friends and Eliseo, you have to let me give this to you, even if you find your own place and move out in a few weeks. I don't feel sorry for you and I'm not giving you charity. This is how I live around the people who are in my life. It's not a big deal unless you make it into a big deal. You have to trust me on this.

"Sycamore House isn't only about me or about the guests; it's about whoever needs or wants a place of safety and shelter. Does this make sense to you?"

He had stood in the doorway while she spoke and finally said, "Then I will assure you that you'll never have reason to be disappointed in my work. I will be out of here as soon as I can afford it, but for now, thank you."

Polly stood up, crossed the room and took his hand to shake it. "Thank you for not making this difficult for me, Eliseo. I didn't want to have to get pushy."

He laughed. "One of these days I'll find a way to repay you for this generosity."

"Don't do anything for me," Polly said. "Take care of someone else who needs it and we'll be square."

She moved past him through the doorway. "I don't know what you have brought with you, but this room is yours, so feel free to settle in. I'm sorry there aren't bathrooms or a shower down here, but you know where they are. Bring a chair down from the conference room if you want a place to sit."

Polly went upstairs to her apartment and before walking in, she stopped and took a breath, looking around her home. Then, opening the door, she went inside, ready to start the next part of her day.

It was later than she’d hoped when Polly finally rushed out of Sycamore House with Sal to meet up with her friends for lunch at Davey’s. Beryl's appointment with her doctor was finished, stitches removed, and she was ready to return to her own home.

When they walked in, the hostess greeted them and said, "They're waiting for you, follow me."

Sal leaned in and whispered, "She knows who you are. Do you eat here a lot?"

Polly giggled. "I probably do. But, remember, it's a small town. Everyone knows everyone and Lydia would have told her to keep an eye out for us."

The hostess showed them to a round table in the back of the main room where Lydia and Beryl were seated.

"Where's Andy?" Polly asked, surprised to see that she was missing.

"She's probably run over to my place to have a quickie with her boyfriend," Beryl smirked, then said, "Hi. You must be Sal, I'm Beryl Watson, the invalid. Here. Sit down by me and you can tell me all about Polly's lurid past."

Sal looked at Polly, who shrugged and said, "If you sit by her, I will not take responsibility for what's to come."

Lydia had stood and reached across the table to shake Sal's hand. "I'm Lydia Merritt. It's nice to meet you. Have you had a good time in Bellingwood so far?"

"It's been lovely," Sal replied and sat down beside Beryl. "Now I have a better understanding as to why Polly will never come back to live in Boston. She's told me why she loves it here, but after seeing the way she has become such a part of this community, it all makes much more sense."

"We love her," Lydia said, "and probably wouldn't let her leave anyway. Has she given you the ten cent tour?"

Sal nodded. "We had lunch downtown yesterday and wandered through a few of the stores. Then we drove around Boone in the afternoon and made another trip back down this morning."

Lydia looked at Polly, "Because it's there?"

"No. I needed to buy a bed."

Lydia was perplexed. "A bed? Do you have someone coming in before the bedroom set I ordered arrives?"

"Oh, not for upstairs, for the basement."

"Sure," Beryl interrupted. "For the basement. Because your basement needs to sleep."

Sal grinned, "It’s a roller coaster of events over at Sycamore House. I'm almost ready to return to my quiet life in Boston. Polly has more going on than one person should."

"No kidding," Beryl laughed. "We just sit back and wait for the bodies to fall."

"Stop it!" Polly protested. "I put together a bedroom in the basement for my custodian. He doesn't have a place to live and he had been sleeping in the hayloft of my barn. It was either this or Henry's house and he didn't want to bother Henry."

"So you made a room for him." Beryl poked Sal. "We love her, we really do, but she won't be happy until everyone has moved into Sycamore House. I will protest loudly and with most foul language if she makes me leave my home again. I don't want to live with her!"

Polly rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It's only temporary until he can find his own place. And besides, it has been bothering me that I don't have a place where people can stay if they show up."

Sal picked up on Beryl's attitude, "So you would have put me in the basement?"

"No!" Polly said. "Oh, forget it. I'm not going to win with this, am I? I bought a bed," and she stopped because Sal interrupted.

"And a lamp, and a rug and a bedside table and if we're not careful she'll find a way to put in a shower and bathroom down there, too."

"You're going to walk to Des Moines tomorrow if you aren't careful, you brat," Polly said.

Sal pursed her lips and sat back in her chair.

"Anyway, I bought a bed. So there." She picked up her menu and began flipping through the pages.

Andy walked in and joined them. Introductions were made and Polly asked, "Beryl said you were meeting Len for a nooner. How was it?"

Beryl looked appalled and Andy's mouth dropped open in shock. "I wanted to make sure that things were ready at her house. I picked up her mail and took things inside, then ran out to the studio to check on their progress," Andy responded, then said, "Beryl!"

"Those are not the words I used!" Beryl laughed. "Not exactly, at least. I might have implied it, but I certainly didn’t call it a nooner. That's a terrible word."

"Right," Polly said, "because quickie is much better."

They laughed and told stories on each other through lunch. Andy described Beryl's morning walks to the cemetery behind her house. One morning, she had snuck up on a poor man who was replacing the flowers at his wife's headstone. He didn't hear her coming and when she had wished him a good morning, he fell over and rolled partway down the hill before he could catch himself. Beryl insisted that he was in his eighties, Lydia assured them that he was only a few years older than Beryl and Andy. The worst part of the story was that when he fell, he had knocked his toupee off his head. Beryl had quietly picked it up, shook it off and before he could stand up, placed it back on his poor, bald pate, adjusting it for him until it looked as it always did.

"He's going to be glad she has gone home," Andy said. "He's there every Thursday and I'm certain that next week, he will approach with great trepidation.

Not to be outdone, Sal pitched into a story about one of Polly's study dates in college. Polly wanted to crawl under the table, it was one of her more horrendous evenings, but she listened as Sal began.

"He was in your American Lit class, wasn't he?" Sal asked and Polly nodded her affirmation, then Sal asked, "Why was he even in there?"

"Because he'd registered late, I think. Go on and tell the story."

"Well, he called Polly in a panic one evening because there was a paper due on some author,"

"Henry James," Polly interjected.

"Anyway, he hadn't done any work and wondered if Polly could sum up his writing in a few sentences so that he could get the paper written the next day. Didn't he give you two days’ notice?"

Polly nodded.

"Oh, I didn't tell you that this kid was gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous. Big brown eyes and soft, curly hair that hung to his shoulders. He was a knockout. Poor Polly couldn't turn him down, so she told him that if he would commit to six hours the next day, she'd take him through the process and help him get a paper written.

"He was living off-campus in an apartment and invited her to come over. She dressed up for him and packed her backpack with books by Henry James and books about Henry James, tossed in her laptop and headed over."

Beryl snickered, "I can see this one coming."

"She walked in and the place was a total dump. He hadn't even bothered to pick up his dirty underwear."

Polly shuddered at the memory.

"It didn't occur to him that it might be offensive, so his filth stared at Polly all evening. He invited her to sit at the dining room table, which was covered with dishes and empty food trays. When she looked at him he shoved it all to one end and picked up a chair, shaking the stuff off it to the floor. She told me she was scared to sit down because she was afraid she'd stick there forever. So, she asked if he had a clean towel anywhere in the apartment. He went to a drawer beside the kitchen sink and said, 'I think Mom left me some towels,' and pulled out an unopened package of dish rags. Polly ran some water over one and scrubbed the chair as clean as possible, then wiped down the table where she was going to work. He asked her if she'd like some supper and what did you say to him, Polly?"

"'No, I'm not feeling very well.' I thought that if I ate a single thing in that apartment, I would vomit."

Sal continued, "He started drinking beer as Polly pulled out her books. They were talking about one of the books and why James wrote from the point of view he chose and the next thing she knew, this kid left the table, walked over, sat down on the sofa and turned on the television. When she asked about his paper, he told her he was dropping the course and asked if she wanted to make out."

"What did you do?" Andy asked Polly.

"I put my books back in the bag, packed up my laptop, tossed the dirty wet rag at his head and left. That was one of the worst nights ever!"

"I wonder what ever happened to him," Sal mused.

"Hopefully he hired a maid or else he probably died from his own filth."

When they finished lunch Andy said, "We're going to Beryl's house. You two ought to come over and see the progress on the studio. I think you'll be pleased, Polly."

"That's a good idea," she agreed. "We'll follow you."

They all made their way to Beryl's and while Andy and Beryl went inside the house, Lydia, Polly and Sal walked around back to the studio. Polly could hear noise coming from inside the little building and when they walked in, were greeted by several of Beryl's friends. Her art students were there and the place had been decorated with balloons and flowers. A cake was set out reading "Welcome Home," and festive paper plates, napkins and cups were neatly arranged.

"Nice," Polly remarked as she glanced around the room. She recognized a few of the people, but others simply smiled and nodded. Once again, she knew they recognized her. One day she hoped to be able to put more faces and names together at the same time.

It didn't take too long before they heard Andy talking to Beryl as they walked from the house to the studio and when Andy opened the door, they all yelled "Surprise!"

"Dammit," Beryl said, "You should have made me pee before I left the house. You know I don't handle things like this well."

Deena, the young girl who had been at Beryl's the day of the explosion rushed over to hug her mentor. "Look around," she said, "This is going to be wonderful when it is finished!"

She pulled Beryl into the room and Polly watched as the girl pointed out some of the new features of the cabinets they were building. When they approached the back room, Beryl stopped and turned on Polly.

"You cleaned up the blood. I was looking forward to showing that off to my guests."

"Sorry about that," Polly laughed. "I couldn't leave those ugly brown stains. They bothered me."

Deena looked up and said, "That was one of the worst things I'd ever seen, Ms. Watson. I was so scared for you."

"I know you were, dear. But, you handled yourself like a professional. I'm lucky you were around."

They disappeared into the back room and within moments, Beryl came out laughing.

"Whose great idea was it to lock up all of my flammables? Did y'all think that one explosion was enough or what?" She strode over to Polly, "You know that all of this perfect organization is going to mess with my chaotic flow of creativity, don't you."

Polly shook her head, "I am completely confident that within a week of you getting back in here, things will be as chaotic as you desire."

Beryl poked her in the arm, "Think you know me pretty well, do you? Maybe I'll surprise you."

"Maybe the only reason you ever keep this place organized is because your students put your things away between sessions," Polly smirked.

Deena stood behind her mentor and giggled. Beryl spun around, "Don't you laugh at me, sweetling. You're the one I'm going to hold responsible for keeping this place up to snuff."

"Yes ma'am."

"Such deference," Beryl laughed. "I don't know what I'm going to do when she decides to go to college."

Polly recognized the man who had stopped her earlier in the week, "Mr. Storey!" she called out. He looked up and caught her eye, then made his way over.

Putting his hand out to shake Beryl's, he said, "Welcome home, Miz Watson. I'm glad you are doing alright."

"Thank you!" she said, "I'm sorry my water heater's explosion broke one of your windows. You will be sure to stop by some morning and give me the bill. Bring your sweet wife and we'll have coffee."

"That's alright," he responded. "I've already had it replaced and it wasn't that much money."

"Well, you should come over and have coffee some morning anyway. We've lived beside each other for so many years and have never done that. Why don't we plan on it next Thursday. Will you come?"