Part 10 (1/2)

Augusta had put on a Crock-Pot of chicken vegetable chowder before we left that morning, and it smelled almost as good as chocolate. Stomach complaining, I left her up to her elbows in biscuit dough and did as my grandmother commanded.

The slender volume of poetry t.i.tled The Heart Sings a Blessing The Heart Sings a Blessing was frayed at the edges and bound in a faded blue. On the flyleaf, Pluma Griffin had inscribed in now fading brown ink was frayed at the edges and bound in a faded blue. On the flyleaf, Pluma Griffin had inscribed in now fading brown ink For Lucy, I won't forget!

Forever, Pluma ”Forget what?” I wondered aloud.

If Vesta knew, she didn't answer, for just then her doorbell rang, and she went to admit Edna Smith, who tumbled breathless and red-faced into the nearest chair.

”Scared of elevators,” she explained to our unspoken question.

”Good grief, Edna, don't tell me you walked up four flights of stairs!” Vesta said, sending me a silent message to bring water.

”I didn't get this winded from s.e.x-'scuse me, Minda,” our visitor panted between gulps.

”You know I would've called first, Vesta,” Edna said when she was able to breathe normally, ”but this just came to me all of a sudden, and I can't talk to just anybody about it.” She lowered her voice. ”Didn't want to tell you over the phone.”

”Do you want me to leave the room?” Oh Lordy, I really, really really didn't want to hear intimate details of Edna and Hank Smith's love life-or lack of it. didn't want to hear intimate details of Edna and Hank Smith's love life-or lack of it.

”No, no. You'd better hear this, too, only keep it to yourself-both of you, please.” Edna took another swallow of water and leaned forward. ”Remember when Mildred got so sick the night of the UMW meeting?”

My grandmother looked like she could use some water, too. ”Be hard to forget it,” she said.

”I was sitting next to her when later on in the meeting she complained of feeling nauseated,” Edna said. ”I asked her if she wanted me to take her home, but she said no, she had something in her purse that was supposed to ease it. Looked like those stomach pills you buy over the counter-the ones for acid indigestion-but I can't swear that's what it was. Anyway, she washed one down with coffee.”

”Dear G.o.d, Edna! Why didn't you tell us this sooner?”

”I guess I just forgot; it seemed like such a harmless thing. Just about everybody takes those things at one time or another.”

”Do you know where she got them?” I asked. ”Maybe we can trace the pills back to the store where she bought them.”

Edna drained her gla.s.s and set it aside. ”That's just it. Mildred didn't buy the pills. She said Irene Bradshaw gave them to her.”

My grandmother frowned. ”Since when did Irene become a pharmacist?”

”It didn't seem unusual at the time,” Edna said. ”Mildred told me she'd mentioned to Irene about feeling kind of sick when she saw her in the grocery store that morning, said she marked it up to stress-you know, with Otto and all. Anyway, a little later Irene came by her place and dropped off those pills, said they did her a world of good. Mildred put them in her purse and forgot about them until her stomach started acting up at the meeting that night.”

Vesta didn't say anything for a minute. ”Mildred might still have them in her purse. Let's wait and see what they are when she gets back-might turn out to be something totally harmless. Meanwhile, you're right, Edna. I wouldn't mention this to anybody.”

”Did Gatlin say anything about Irene's visit to the bookshop yesterday?” I asked Vesta after Edna left. ”She had an awful case of the 'wanna knows' about what Gatlin planned to do with Papa's Armchair.”

”I can't imagine why.” My grandmother slipped off her narrow size-nine shoes and rubbed her feet. ”Irene was a good customer, though. Maybe she's afraid Gatlin won't be able to find any more of those out-of-print mysteries she likes.”

”I thought she was going to blow a gasket when Gatlin said we wanted to expand into Dr. Hank's place next door. That building isn't worth anything, is it?”

”It's no historic landmark, if that's what you mean. And it's gut-ugly to boot. Besides, if Irene wants it, she can make Hank an offer as well as we can.”

”Somehow I never thought of the Bradshaws as having money,” I said.

”They don't, but their daughter, Bonnie, does-or Bonnie's husband does. She married into it. Robinson Sherwood came from money, and he's done all right with his legal practice. I like Robinson; he's an all right fellow, and I think he'll make a fine judge. He's just received an appointment, you know, and I hear he and Bonnie are adopting a baby.”

It was so late by the time I left Vesta's, I decided to wait on my visit to Pluma Griffin's niece. And Gatlin agreed to go with me if I would help her clear a path at the bookshop the next day.

”What's Mildred going to think when she sees what we've done?” I said as the pile of books to go to go began to tower over the stack began to tower over the stack to keep. to keep.

”I don't know, but I wish she'd hurry back,” Gatlin said. ”I don't want to get rid of any of these books until Mildred's had a chance to look them over. She knows more about running this place than Otto ever did, and frankly, I'll be glad of her help. David's been great when it comes to actually moving things, but Mildred knows what people like to read.”

The expression in Gatlin's eyes reminded me of the time she forgot her lines in the senior play back in high school. ”I hope I'm not wading in over my head, Minda,” she said.

”Hey, we're not going to let you drown,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt. ”Don't guess you've had any more visits from inquisitive Irene?” I was dying to tell Gatlin about the pills, but a promise was a promise.

”No, but Vesta and I made an offer to Hank Smith, and I'm almost sure he's going to sell us that building next door. I'd think most of those old records could be destroyed by now anyway. It's not like he needs the s.p.a.ce.”

I finished clearing a shelf and sneezed at the dust. ”Vesta said she had no idea why Irene acted so peculiar about your buying that building,” I said. ”You'd think she'd be glad of a new place to eat.”

”She's not the only one.” My cousin flapped a dust rag at a spider web. ”Hugh Talbot was in here yesterday hinting around about wanting to buy us out.”

That didn't surprise me much. I told her about Hugh showing up at the house. ”I think he was looking for something, and he obviously thinks we have it.”

”I can't imagine what it could be,” Gatlin said.

I could, but I wasn't ready to share it. ”He said his sister seemed to be doing okay,” I said.

Gatlin nodded. ”Saw her in the drugstore yesterday. She had a bad bruise on her cheek and was wearing a bedroom slipper on one foot, but she told me she wasn't going to let that stop her.

”All that walking must've given her stamina,” Gatlin said.

”When we were in high school, Mrs. Whitmire would always get there early so she could get in her laps around the track. I couldn't keep up with her on a bet.” She looked at her watch. ”Which reminds me, I'd better start walking for home. It's almost time for my two to be getting back from choir practice.

”If Mildred shows up tomorrow, maybe we can finally clear a s.p.a.ce in here and get rid of some of these old books.”

But Vesta pulled into the driveway behind me as soon as I reached home, and one glance at my grandmother told me something was bad wrong.

”I just got off the phone with Lydia Bowen. Arminda, Mildred hasn't been with her at all! She says she hasn't heard from her in weeks and has no idea where she could be.”

Chapter Thirteen.

It's just like Mildred to pull something like this!” my grandmother said the next day. ”She ought to know we'd be out of our heads with worry. It's just plain selfish, that's all!”

Vesta and I were on our way to the bookshop after checking with the hospital staff about Mildred's actions on the day she disappeared, and in spite of my grandmother's sputtering, I knew she was deep-down afraid of what might have happened to the woman who had become an important part of our family.

”The receptionist on duty said she remembers calling a taxi for her, and that an attendant wheeled Mildred out to the cab, but she didn't know where she meant to go,” I said, trying to reconstruct what had happened.

”Shouldn't be difficult to find out,” Vesta said. ”There's only one taxi driver in Angel Heights, and that's Wilbur Dobbins. His mouth runs faster than that beat-up old cab he drives, but he'd know where she went if anybody would.”

But Wilbur, parked in front of the town hall to eat his bologna and cheese sandwich, hadn't seen Mildred at all.

”Didn't call me,” he said through a mouthful of pickle. ”Must've been somebody else.”