A Big Life in a Small Town (Bellingwood #2) Read online

  Mark's other hand held the cat and he reached down to put the cat back on the sofa. Polly hadn't said a word.

  "Well? Dinner? I eat anything and everything. I'm easy to cook for."

  Polly looked at him and said, "Okay. What time?"

  "How about six thirty. That will give me time to get the day washed off and look presentable. Can I use the key to get into the building again?"

  "Sure," she said, a little dazedly, then she nodded. "That will be wonderful. But, wait. You really do know how to dance?"

  "I'm a great dancer," he smirked. "I'll tell you all about it over dinner. How's that for a deal?" He began moving to the front door. "I'll see you tonight."

  With his free hand, he touched her elbow. It was more intimate than she expected. Maybe it was because he took that moment to look straight into her eyes. Polly couldn't think to speak. She simply watched him walk down the steps.

  Closing the door to the apartment, she made her way to the sofa and sat down, finding herself immediately surrounded by animals. "Now I don't know what to do. I have another date and I'm cooking." She dropped her head back and forced her body to relax, feeling the soft fur of her pets as she stroked them. She wasn't even sure which hand was on which animal.

  It took a few moments for her to regain her equilibrium and then she sat up and dislodged the cats. "It looks like I'd better figure out what I have in the refrigerator." Polly opened the refrigerator door and then the door of her small pantry beside the fridge. Standing in front of the two, she considered her options. She shut the doors and flipped open her laptop, bringing up a browser. A few clicks later and there was the recipe she wanted. Scanning the ingredients and instructions, Polly jotted down a few notes, saved the page to her notes software and then turned around and opened the pantry again. She needed to go to the grocery store, but fortunately, everything necessary was at the little store downtown. She checked her list once more, opened the refrigerator door again and looked in the freezer, then shoved the list in her back pocket.

  "Thanks. I’ll see you later," she said as she walked out the door into the hall. Polly stood in front of her doorway, looking across at the door to the room Elise Myers had rented from her.

  "It's okay," she said to herself, "You own the place and are expected to care for the linens and keep things clean and neat. Just go in the room."

  Mustering her courage, she triggered the door lock and walked in to Elise's room. Things were pretty much the same as the last time she had been in the room, so she pulled the comforter off and began pulling the sheets back. As she tugged on the top corner of the fitted sheet, the mattress pulled up and she thought she had caught a glimpse of something dark. She lifted the mattress, then let it drop.

  Great. A gun.

  She picked the mattress up again and bent over to get a closer look at it. She wasn't sure why she was looking so closely at it. She laughed at herself. She wouldn't know a Glock from a ... It occurred to Polly she didn't know much about handguns. Her dad had taught her how to shoot a rifle and a shotgun, but this was a bit alien.

  Polly gathered up the linens and glanced down at the desk as she walked past. She saw her name and looked more closely. Now why in the world would Elise leave a note for her inside the room? How would she know when Polly would get there?

  She dropped the linens and picked up the envelope. It wasn't sealed and she pulled the card out. On it, Elise had written,

  I'm sorry to duck out on you in such a hurry. I need to leave town. If anyone comes looking for me, you can tell them in all honesty that I'm gone and you don't know when I'll return.

  If you don't hear from me by Valentine's Day, check your email. There will be a phone number for you to call so someone will come get my things.

  Elise M.

  Polly read the note again. It sounded ominous. She gathered up the linens again and went downstairs. Cutting through the kitchen, she started a load of laundry and left the rest in a large basket beside the washing machine. She programmed her phone alarm to remind her to come back to the laundry room and headed for the office. Jeff was working at his computer, so she sat down in front of him, not saying a word while he typed.

  "Yes?" he said, continuing to type.

  "What'cha doin'?" she asked.

  He grinned and said, "Why?"

  "Because I wanted to know!" she shrugged and chuckled, then put the note in front of him. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked.

  He stopped typing and picked up the card. When he finished reading, he set it down and looked up at her. "Ummm. I don't know?"

  "Exactly!" Polly exclaimed. "I don't know either. Should I worry about her? I don't know what good that would do me, but for some reason I feel a little responsible for her. I don't know who to call if something has gone wrong and I won't get a phone number unless she doesn't return."

  Jeff said, "Just a second," and pulled out his own phone. He scrolled through numbers and said, "I've got a number here. Do you want me to call it?"

  "What's the number?"

  "When she first made the reservation, I logged the call."

  "Well, yes! Do you mind?"

  Jeff pressed the send button and waited. In a moment he smiled and nodded, then said, "Hello. Is Elise Myers available?"

  He listened for a moment, "This is Jeff Lyndsay from Sycamore House where she has been staying while working on her Doctoral dissertation. She left us on Friday. I wanted to ensure she was okay and wondered when she might be returning."

  There was another pause while he listened. "I see. Thank you very much. If she should contact you would you please tell her I called."

  He set the phone down on the desk and said, "Well, I'm not sure what to make of that. A woman answered and hesitated before she told me that Elise wasn't at that number. She seemed pretty shook up that I was looking for the girl and then told me that she must have had an emergency. I'm sorry I couldn't get more information, but I don't think she would have given it to me anyway."

  "Can you email that phone number to me?" Polly asked. "If I get too worried about this, I might cook some fried chicken and ask Aaron Merritt to see what he can find out." She picked the card and envelope up as she stood. "Do you need me for anything?"

  He looked puzzled, "I don't think so?"

  "Okay," she said. "I wanted to make sure you were doing okay with plans for Saturday. I feel like I don't have anything to do."

  "Do you want something to do?"

  "That's not it. It just feels strange."

  "I promise. If I need you, I'll let you know."

  "Thanks." Polly dropped the card on her desk and looked out the front window of her office. Jimmy and Sam were installing the ramp today and had gotten an early start. Henry's truck wasn't in the lot, but she saw Andy pulling in. Polly turned to head back to her desk, but stopped when she saw Lydia Merritt's familiar blue Jeep park beside Andy and both Lydia and Beryl got out. She smiled as she watched the three women greet each other with quick hugs and walk toward the building. They stopped for a moment to chat with the boys building the ramp, then waved at Polly through the inside window after they walked in through the front door. She went out to meet them.

  "What are you all doing here this morning?" she asked.

  "They thought I spent too much time alone so they made me come do something productive," Beryl grumped. "And at this hideous hour of the morning." She sighed an immense, dramatic sigh and with a waver in her voice, said, "No one understands the needs of a poor artist." She lifted the back of her hand to the brow of her forehead as she spoke the last two words.

  "Oh, stop it," Lydia chided. "If you were still in the middle of a project, I would have left you alone, but you said you were finished with the set for the Cedar Rapids gallery." Lydia pushed her lower lip out and said, "And I missed you. So there."

  Beryl's whole body laughed as she hugged her friend. "I missed you too." She looked at Polly. "What's up today?"

  "I have no idea. No one tells me anythin
g," she said.

  "Well, we heard you had muffins and coffee with Dr. Hottie. Do you still have muffins upstairs?" Beryl gave Polly a little push in the shoulders.

  "How in the world did you hear that?" Polly asked, then sighed, "Come on up. The apartment is very clean and there are muffins and coffee. He didn't drink any of that. He doesn't like it."

  She started up the steps and Beryl said, "We stopped by his office this morning with my Miss Kitty before coming here. She's getting her teeth cleaned and it's better if she and I don't see each other for twenty-four hours when that happens."

  Lydia interjected, "Marnie was on the phone with him when we got there. She thought it was cute."

  Polly shook her head and opened the door to her apartment. "There is nothing secret in this town, is there!"

  "Not if we can help it," Lydia said. "It keeps everyone in line. So stay in line, okay?"

  Polly pried the lid off the container of muffins and set it in the middle of the dining room table. She pulled four mugs out of the cupboard and began handing them to Lydia, followed by plates and forks and napkins.

  "Do I need to warm them up?" she asked.

  Andy felt the bottom of the container and said, "I think they're still pretty warm. They'll be fine and they smell wonderful!"

  "You had Mr. Hottie all to yourself this morning? How'd that go?" Beryl asked.

  "Well ..." Polly began.

  "It must have gone well; she can't even start the sentence," Beryl interrupted and put a muffin on her plate before passing the container around.

  "He was only here for a few minutes to check Leia and Obiwan. He had to get to someone's farm. I asked him to stay, but he was in a hurry." Polly rushed through the information.

  Lydia smiled. "Did he ask you for a date?"

  "Not really," Polly said.

  "What do you mean, not really?" Andy's brow wrinkled. "What is not really a date?"

  "He invited himself here for dinner tonight and said he was going to teach me how to dance."

  Beryl sat back in her chair, "Wow! That boy is on it! I'm impressed! What are you making for dinner?"

  Polly slumped forward at the table, "Stuffed Chicken Marsala."

  "Of course you are! You little wild woman. You're trying to impress him."

  "Well, it's a great recipe and I already have the chicken and wine."

  "I suppose you're going to make a chocolate cake and homemade ice cream, too."

  "Well, maybe the chocolate cake, but I already have good ice cream in the freezer."

  "You're becoming quite the celebrity with the boys around town. First it's dead bodies and now you're going to start consuming all the single young men."

  "Stop it!" Polly's voice rose in pitch and decibel level and she was sure the look on her face was one of pure shock.

  Lydia patted her arm. "It's fine, Polly. Beryl didn't mean anything. She's just jealous because it seems like you are taking her place as the town's most desired single woman."

  "I'm not jealous at all. Those boys are much too young for me. They don't have nearly the experience I expect in a man. So, Polly, you get them all trained up and when they become a little more suave and debonair, I'll step in and take over. Will that work?"

  "I'm speechless," Polly announced. "Would you like more coffee?"

  The three women laughed at her. "We'll change the subject, but you must know we're all going to be here again tomorrow morning for details."

  "Great," Polly lamented. "Sylvie will be here all day tomorrow as well. I might as well invite you to come to dinner tonight."

  "We'd love to! Thanks!" Beryl said. "I'll bring the wine. Lydia, why don't you bring the ..."

  "Hush," Lydia said. "We're changing the subject." She turned to Polly, "Don't you think Henry is going to be a little jealous when you start dating Mark Ogden?"

  "Thanks for the change of subject," Polly said. "But, maybe I need to clear a few things up. First ..." and she lifted her index finger. "This is not a date. He's going to show me how to dance so I don't make a fool of myself. I also owe him dinner for coming over to check out my animals."

  "No. Stop!" she said as she watched Beryl about to take a breath. "Second ..." and two fingers went up on her right hand. "Henry and I are not in a relationship ..."

  Beryl muttered, "Whatever."

  "I said stop," Polly said, glaring at the woman, who chose to affect a dramatic, apologetic face. "Third, if Henry is going to be jealous at this point in our ..." she paused, "non-relationship, he's going to have a tough time ahead. I don't do well with people boxing me in and there's probably no one in Bellingwood who knows that better than Henry. He and I have a great time doing things together, but remember: we're not in a relationship."

  Polly flashed a look at Beryl, who held up her hands in defense. "Fine," Beryl said, "You're not in a relationship and this is not a date." She picked up her coffee. "And this is caffeine free?"

  "No, it's the real thing," Polly laughed and managed to snort at the same time.

  "Do you have any more thoughts on the mystery of Madeline Black's note?" she asked.

  Lydia sighed and pursed her lips. "No. Laurence has managed to swoop in and kick everyone out of the house. He says he's going to lock it up and deal with it later. Amy flies back to California today with her family. She said she would keep in touch, though. I just hope there's not someone out there who is in trouble because we don't know about them."

  "Leave it to you Lydia. You have to take care of someone, even if they don't exist. Maybe the old lady was talking about her dead husband's false teeth. Did you find those in the house?" Beryl laughed.

  "No false teeth," Lydia said and rolled her eyes. "My intuition is trying to tell me something, but I don't know what yet." She looked over her glasses at Beryl, "And don't you start with me."

  "Wow," Beryl declared. "I come out of my studio only to be told off by my friends. It's rough out here!"

  "Another muffin?" Polly asked.

  "Thank you, I will," Beryl said and passed the container around again. Andy passed it on without taking another and so did Lydia. "Well, I'll be. You two must not be planning to work as hard as I am today. All of this sweet stuff will be taken care of with a few trips around that auditorium downstairs. Shall we go get busy?"

  They nodded and Beryl took a napkin to wrap around her muffin. As everyone headed down the steps, Lydia held back and said to Polly, "Just be sure of what you are doing with your heart, Polly. I'd hate for you to break it."

  "I'm fine, Lydia. This is not a date. He's adorable and I think I'll enjoy the evening, but that's all it is, okay?"

  "Okay. Please take care of yourself."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Oven on warm – check. Table set - check. Wine - check. Dessert - check. Polly ran into the bathroom to look at her hair and makeup. She fluffed her hair at the top of her head one more time, ran her tongue across her lips to moisten them, then rubbed her palms down the sides of her pants in order to dry them off. She was not going to be nervous about this.

  She had tried on three different blouses. One was a pretty color, but what in the heck had she been thinking when she bought a blouse with ruffles around the buttons. That wasn't her style at all. She stuck it in the back of her closet. The second blouse was also attractive, but the shoulders didn’t fit her well. If she was going to dance with someone tonight, she wanted plenty of freedom to move around. Especially if she sent them both to the floor when she tripped him. Polly had finally settled on a hot pink blouse with a low neck and small ties bringing it together at the neck. She did a couple of squats to make sure her jeans were as comfortable as she thought they were and everything seemed fine. She lit a candle for ambience and turned out the overhead light in the bathroom.

  Polly found the cats sleeping together in between the pillows at the top of her bed. Just about the time she was ready to go to bed, they found a million reasons to be up and playing, but now they were sound asleep. She was fine with that.


  One more check of the time. Six twenty-five. Would he be late or early or right on time? She went out into the living room and glanced at Obiwan. They'd spent thirty minutes walking this evening while the chicken baked. He was curled into a ball at the end of the sofa, watching her with one eye as she paced around the room. Another glance at the food in the oven. Yep, it was still fine. Polly opened the fridge. Everything was still in the same place it had been when she put it there.

  Then, Obiwan's ears perked up and he looked at the door.

  "Thank you," she said. "You're a better alarm system than anything I could install." She forced herself to stay in the kitchen. She didn’t want to startle Mark again by opening the door before he knocked. The doorbell softly chimed and she paced herself as she walked over and opened the door.

  "Hi there," she said.

  "Hi yourself." He handed her a bouquet of colorful daisies and a bottle of white wine, which she took from him as she stepped back to allow him to enter. Obiwan jumped off the sofa and dashed to say hello and Mark knelt down to rub his shoulders and neck.

  Mark looked up at her. "He didn't let you know I was coming up the steps?"

  She giggled. "He did. I didn't want to startle you again like I did this morning!"

  He stood up and began to shrug out of his jacket. Polly's breath caught. The man was gorgeous. He was the type of boy she had idolized from afar in high school, knowing he would never be interested in her. He was the center for the basketball team, or the quarterback on the football team. He was comfortable with every teacher and all of the students. Elected prom king, homecoming king, winter ball king ... you name it. That was the guy standing in front of her in her apartment.

  "Where can I put my coat?" he asked.

  "Through there ..." she nodded toward the bedroom door. "The cats are on the bed, but there's a chair inside the door. I'll get these into a vase."

  She knew it was silly, but she loved these crazy daisies. They were dyed all sorts of improbable colors and she loved nothing more than scattering vases of them around her apartment. It had been several weeks since her last splurge of color had died, and she was surprised he'd known to bring these. Maybe it was only a coincidence.