Part 2 (2/2)

”Open for dinner, though. Got great fish on Friday.” She nodded. ”Ahh.” 4, ”Try the inn,” Donna's husband told her. ”If you ask for Shelby and say I sent you and that you're in a rush, she'll have you in and out in a flash.” He winked. ”She's a friend of mine.” He stuck out his hand. ”The name's Matthew Farr, by the way.

And you are ... ?” Chelsea hesitated for the tiniest fraction of a second. She imagined saying her name and having them all stiffen and stare. She imagined being suddenly exposed. She imagined that thunder would roll and lightning strike when the town realized that its longlost daughter had returned. 67 Barbara Dehns1w Ike Faaghwo of cifelsen Kaw But if her face hadn't done it, she reasoned, why should her name?

Embarra.s.sed by her own foolishness, she shook his hand and said, ”Chelsea Kane.” Then she turned to Donna and smiled. ”Thanks for all your help. I appreciate it.” Tucking the bag with her purchases under her arm, she held the umbrella at the ready as she slipped out the door.

The Norwich Notch Inn was on the far side of the green from Farr's.

Sheltered from the steady drizzle by the umbrella, Chelsea dropped the rest of her purchases in the car and took the long way around. She pa.s.sed the store again, then, in turn, the Norwich Notch Historical Society, Post Office, Quilters Guild, and Library. They were in an a.s.sortment of frame and brick houses, some Cape style, some Colonial, some Federal. Signs identified each by function. Rising above them among the pines, at the apex of the green, was the Congregational church. The neat sign on its facade proclaimed it the town meeting house as well. At the top of the broad granite steps, she opened the tall double doors and went inside. The front lobby was high-ceilinged and smelled of aged wood and musk. Its walls were papered liberally with notices. Some had to do with church events such as choir rehearsals, meetings of the church trustees, and the same April Fool's Day Dinner Dance advertised at Farr's. Others had to do with secular events-the Boy Scouts were selling magazine subscriptions to pay for a trip to Was.h.i.+ngton, the intertown basketball league was scheduling its playoff 68 .1':.0ameso the regional hospital was having a blood drive. Mostly, though, the notices had to do with ...:t. he town meeting. It was taking place the following week, every night, starting Monday, ”until every said article has been raised, considered, and resolved as determined by the moderator, Mr. Emery Farr,” Chelsea read, then looked in amazement at the ””pages of articles to be discussed. There were proposals for the purchases of a new water fountain for school playground, a large-diameter hose for the fire department, and a riding lawn mower for the ig way epartment. There were articles on cooperative ventures with neighboring towns and the state, articles dealing with recycling, with changing the hours of operation of the town dump, with prohibiting the use of chewing tobacco on town fields during Little League games. Norwich Notch took itself seriously, Chelsea realized. For a town of only eleven hundred people, there was a whole lot going on. Returning to the front steps, she looked out over the town. The potential for beauty was @ there, she could see.

Given sun, green gra.s.s, and flowers, it would be an attractive little place. In the rain things looked tired and gray, but Farr's had been cheerful inside. She wondered what other surprises hid behind the town's doors. Walking down the other side of the green this time, she pa.s.sed a bank, a law office with a barber shop above it, a bakery, and the inn.

She paused to contemplate a fast lunch but decided against it. There really wasn't enough time. Besides, her hunger had pa.s.sed. In its place was the urge to explore. She was just about to cross to her car when a 69 Bwtwm Deunshy motorcycle careened in from one of the side streets and cut her off. She tottered on the curb, then stepped back. Just beyond her, the cycle slowed. Its rider, wearing a long black duster and a full helmet, looked back at her, then continued on more slowly. He turned at the apex of the green and headed down the opposite side, his helmet s.h.i.+fting as he watched her. Chelsea, who wasn't one to be cowed by bikers in the city, refused to be intimidated now. She held her ground until he had completed a circle of the green and halted the motorcycle several yards from her. He flipped up his visor. ”Chelsea Kane?” She did feel at a disadvantage then and wished she could see more of his face beyond a swath of his eyes and nose. ”That's right.” The fact that his mouth didn't show took nothing from his words, which, while muted, were blunt. ”You're early.”

”Who are you?” She a.s.sumbd he was with the granite company, since he knew of her appointment, but she had no idea in what capacity. A simple quarryman wouldn't know who she was. Nor would anyone in upper management be careening around town on a Kawasaki. Or would he? She was accustomed to urban business enterprises, and large ones at that. She knew precious little about small, backwoods ones. ”Name's Hunter Love,” he said. ”I work for the old man. You lost?”

”No. I was just looking around.”

”Not much to see here but stone.”

”There's more to see. I was planning to drive around. My appointment isn't until one.”

”You won't get far. It's mud season.” He tossed 70 The ragskww of chchwa Kane his head toward her car. ”That's got no traction.”

”No problem. I'll stay on paved roads.”

”Not many of those.

You'll run out long before one o'clock.” His eyes were steady, defiant, she thought. ”Want a tour, I'll give you a tour. Climb on.” Chelsea shook her head. ”Thanks, but I'll pa.s.s. I'm not exactly dressed for it.”

”Scared?” The taunt was all she needed. ”Not on your life. I've ridden on motorcyles before. Fve dyiven motorcycles before, and bigger ones than yours. But I'm here on business.” Unfazed by the put-down, he said, ”Won't get much of that.”

”Why not?”

”Company's in trouble.”

”What kind of trouble?' ”Money trouble.” Given the state of the economy, there was nothing unusual in that. She was only surprised he admitted it so baldly. ”Really?”

”Really. The payroll gets harder to meet each' month, Jamieson won't give us another loan, and the old man wants to keep doing things the way he's been doing them for the last hundred years. Fact is he never did know how to run a company any way but into the ground.” The evenness of his voice gave his a.n.a.lysis all the more weight. Hunter Love was no advance man for Plum Granite. ”Why are you telling me this?” Chelsea asked. He gave a negligent shrug. ”Thought you should know.”

”What would he say if he knew what you just said?” She saw the smallest movement around his eyes, 71 Badmra Deunsjw a gathering at the corners that might have come from amus.e.m.e.nt or pain, she didn't know which.

”He'd say the same thing he's been saying for the last thirty years.

”You're no good, Hunter Love. Got no brains at all. Don't know why I even bother to keep you around.' But he always does, and he always will.

Guilt'll do it every time, and me, I take what I can get. He owes me.”

Flipping down his visor, he revved up his motor and, with a spattering of mud that would have hit Chelsea had she been any closer, he sped off.

At one o'clock on the nose, Chelsea turned onto a small side street on the east side of town and pulled up at number ninety-seven. Had it not been for the small sign reading PWM GRMITE COMPAW, she might have thought she was at the wrong place. Given that Plum Granite was the single largest business in town, she had expected something more imposing. The office was in a small, one-story house with a slate roof and white siding, all of which looked gummy in the rain. Viewed left to right, there were two windows, a door with a triangular pediment atop it, and, protruding blandly from the side, a long garage. One small Ford Escort, one newer Chevy Blazer, and a dirty gray truck with dirty white lettering stood in the driveway. On the far side of the truck, visible only from the tail end of the m.u.f.fler on back, was Hunter Love's motorcycle. Chelsea parked on the street beneath the skeleton of a locust tree. Other skeletons aboundedmaples, birches, lilacs, and forsythia-as well as evergreens that looked winter-tired and wet. 72 The Faswens -of Cjwses Kmw Looping the straps of her briefcase over her shoulder, she climbed from the car, opened her umbrella, and went up the dirt walk. In the absence of a bell, she knocked on the door before pus.h.i.+ng it open. The front office was a small room made even smaller by three file cabinets, two folding chairs, a cooler, a lopsided coat tree, a.s.sorted calendars and lists taped to every exposed wall,'and a large metal desk. Behind the desk sat a pet.i.te woman with short, salt-and-pepper hair, pale skin, and alert eyes. The look in those eyes suggested the same curiosity that Chelsea had sensed in the people at Farr's. She guessed that in this case the curiosity had been heightened by something Hunter Love might have said. Utterly professional, Chelsea introduced herself. ”I have an appointment with Mr. Plum. Is he in?” The woman nodded. Putting the telephone receiver to her ear, she pushed a b.u.t.ton and said in a loud voice, ”Miss. Kane is here, Mr. Plum.” From the inner office, whose door was open to the left of the secretary's desk, came a gruff, ”Send her in.” Chelsea, who had a strong suspicion that the intercom was either nonfunctional or nonexistent, either of which supported Hunter's claim of trouble afoot, crossed the planked floor.

She was no sooner over the threshold than her footsteps began to echo.

In contrast with the front room, this one was startlingly bare. There were two straight-back chairs, one austere wooden desk with a telephone on it, and a bookcase filled spa.r.s.ely with dog-eared files. The walls were a montage of yellowed photographs in cheap black frames, which, had she been alone in the room, Chelsea would have liked to study. But she wasn't alone. 73 Rartom Defiffiaky Three men were there. Only one was old enough to be Oliver Plum. Her eyes met his. ”Mr. Plum?” Lean, with thinning gray hair combed straight back from a high forehead and a mouth that was ruler straight, Oliver Plum was as stern-looking a man as Chelsea had ever met. With the sc.r.a.pe of his chair legs, he slowly straightened his long frame, tucked his hands behind his suspenders, and stared at her. She decided against offering her hand. ”I'm Chelsea Kane.

I've come to see the white granite that your company is quarrying.”

”What you want it for?” he asked in a voice that was steely for a man his age and surprisingly defensive for one in need of the work. ”I'm designing a building for an insurance company.”

”Just you?”

”It's my design, yes, but I'm part of a firm.”

”A fancy one with three names.”

”Fancy? I don't know. But we're good.”

”How good?”

”The projects keep coming, bigger and better all the time.”

”And your profits?”

”Are up.

But I didn't come here to discuss that,” she said. ”The fact is that my partners and I use a good deal of granite in our designs. We're always on the lookout for new sources of supply.”

”Nothin' new about Plum Granite,” Oliver argued. ”We been around since 1810, gone through seven generations of men. There was a time when we were takin' stone outta six quarries in three different counties all at once. No, ain't nothin' new about us, 74 ”m Fhswons of Cbehme Kam , you know it. You were gonna use us once before, then you changed your mind.” Chelsea had to hand it to him, his memory was sharp. But she wasn't being put on the defensive.

”'Mat's not quite right, Mr. Plum. We didn't change our mind. You were never really in the running. Right from the start, your price was too high.”

”And you think it's down now? Think again, missy.” . From the side of the room by a window overlooking the street came a disparaging sound. Oliver Plum turned toward the man who'd made it. ”You got something to say?”

”Yeah. We happen to have the best white granite around, and we need the work. Don't tell her the price'll be too high.

If she likes the stone, we can bargain.” The man was Hunter Love.

Chelsea recognized his voice. She had expected him to be younger and was surprised to find him close to her own age, though there was a hardness to his features that aged them. His eyes were brown like his hair, which was on the long side and mussed from his helmet, giving him a rebellious look that was reinforced by the gold stud in his ear. He wore jeans and a black s.h.i.+rt, both worn but clean. She guessed him to be just shy of six feet, but where he lagged behind Oliver in height, he matched him in boldness. ”We can't afford to bargain,” Oliver growled. ”We can't afford not to,” Hunter growled right back. ”Lower the price and we'll lose money.”

”Keep the price up and we'll lose the job.”

”We can't work for nothin'.”

”No one's askin' us to.” 75 Barbwa Deffitsky The Pa.s.sions of Chelsea Kane Chelsea interrupted. ”The problem with the price is that the granite has to be cut and polished elsewhere. Why don't you do it on-site like most of the other companies do?” ”osts too much to set up,” Oliver said. He settled back on his heels and stared at her again.

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