Breaking Ground (20 page)

After the 1997 entry, she inserted:

WHY? “Clouded nature of the 1883 survey”; what does this mean? How to find out?

Then she turned back to Dan Swanson's letter. What was all this about “disputes,” the “tangled web,” the “clouded nature of the 1883 survey”? And what matters—apparently discussed in a conversation between the two men—would Dan Swanson be willing to give his word about dropping?

The letter had such a melodramatic tone, especially concerning the promise to bury the past and not revisit it. And it was so flowery. Did people still write like that in 1997? Julie glanced back through several of the other letters and decided they didn't prove much on that score since their content was mostly straightforward. But the handwriting on all of them matched. She felt confident
the letter from Dan Swanson to Paul Dyer was genuine. And very important.

Obviously something funny had gone on with the Birch Brook land, something Dan Swanson was willing to overlook, in return for buying the property at what at least Paul Dyer's son Luke considered too low a price. Is that why Luke was spending time in the Ryland Historical Society archives? Did he know—or at least think—this letter existed? Did he have the original? No, because, if so, why would he be looking for this one? Or did he wonder if his father had responded to it, without keeping a copy, and was seeking that? If she could think of a way to do it, Julie would ask Luke. But right now she couldn't.

In fact, right now all she could think about was Dan Swanson's letter and what to do about it. The first thing was obviously to put it back in the box and put that box and the others where they belonged, where Steven intended them to be—in the archives. First, though, a copy, Julie thought. She needed to make a copy. But here her instincts went to war. One side of her, the side that was trying to solve Mary Ellen's murder, was prepared to march out to the copy machine in Mrs. Detweiller's office, wait for it to warm up, and then make the copy. The other side, her museum professional side, told her to wait till Tabby arrived and could make the copy according to standard procedures, which meant allowing Tabby to examine the paper and be sure that copying was safe. But, it was already a copy, Julie reasoned, and a copy of a copy couldn't do harm. Still, it just didn't feel right to her. It was only 7:30, and Tabby wouldn't be in for another two hours. Well, there was another box, and she might as well take a look at it. She went item by item through the final box and discovered more bills, checks, and short business notes, but nothing more related to Birch Brook or to the Dyers. So she read the 1997 letter again. If I keep this up, she thought, I won't need to make a copy of it—I'll
have a copy in my head! After the fourth rereading, Julie decided enough was enough.

She was actually pleased to hear Mrs. Detweiller in the outer office. Tabby followed shortly behind, and Julie was happy that Swanson House was coming to life after the long and quiet early morning she had spent alone. The high school boy working on the grounds for the summer came to carry the boxes of Swanson papers to the library. Julie went upstairs to explain the papers to Tabby and awkwardly worked her way around to requesting a copy of the 1997 letter. “If it's safe to copy, of course,” she said.

“It's already a copy, Dr. Williamson,” Tabby replied as she examined the sheet of paper. “Nothing fragile.”

Julie knew that, but she felt better getting the librarian's permission. So she took the page downstairs, copied it, and returned the “original” to Tabby. “These don't seem to be in any order,” the librarian said, looking at the box it had come from, “so I'll just put this on top. The boxes can go in there,” she added, directing the boy to place them inside the vault.

“Maybe I should put it where it was, near the bottom of that box,” Julie said. If Luke Dyer came today, she didn't want to make it too easy for him to find the letter.

“Whatever you say, Dr. Williamson. Luke said he'd be back today. I should tell him about the new ones.”

Julie couldn't come up with a good reason to disagree. She knew why she hoped Luke Dyer would not find the letter, but she just couldn't manage the lie necessary to bring that about. With luck, she said to herself, he wouldn't be in today. If she just had a bit of time, she might be able to figure out the letter's significance before Luke read it.

When Dalton stopped by at 3:45 to talk with her about the upcoming building committee meeting, Julie wasn't sure she could keep her eyes open. It had been such a long day, and she was still agitated about the Dan Swanson letter. She had tried to concentrate on her work, and the tour she had given at noon was, she felt, back to her old standard. But she was definitely drooping.

“The excavation's done, and the foundation should be poured next week. We're off and running, and if the committee agrees, we can recommend full steam ahead,” Dalton said to her across her desk.

Dalton's enthusiasm gave Julie an immediate burst of energy. “It
is
exciting, isn't it?” she said. “Such a shame Mary Ellen isn't here to enjoy it.”

“Really sad, but you have to admit, Julie, the committee will probably be able to actually accomplish something today. I know that's terrible to say, but just think—we can finally get the Swanson Center under way, and Mary Ellen would have been happy about that, even if she had a few questions.”

Julie laughed. “I know what you mean, Dalton. Do you plan to take up the issue of renaming the center for both of them?”

“I thought we should, but obviously that's up to the full board. We meet Friday, right? So if the building committee agrees, we could make that one of our recommendations.”

“What else do we need to do today?”

“Just confirm the plan and recommend to the board that the project go ahead. Is the money issue settled?”

“Henry LaBelle said it looks good. The probate judge seemed sympathetic, and Steven Swanson's letter asking him to release the
$500,000 was really important. Henry thinks we'll hear within a week.”

“That'll keep Clif at bay. I was afraid he'd resist moving ahead because without Mary Ellen's final gift we'd have to borrow so much. This ought to persuade him.”

“I hope so. Um, Dalton? Before the meeting, do we have time to talk about something else?”

Dalton looked at his watch. “If it's short, or we can talk on the way to Holder.”

Realizing it was five minutes before four, Julie said there wasn't really time and asked if Dalton would be free afterwards for a few minutes. “Assuming we have a nice short one. I've got a busy night ahead at the inn,” Dalton said. “We better go.”

When the new Swanson Center was finished, the society would have a comfortable conference room for board and committee meetings, but for now it was forced to set up the classroom in Holder House for such purposes. When Dalton and Julie arrived there, Clif and Mabel, the volunteer whose knowledge of plants Julie had relied on for the recent tour, and a member of the building committee, were waiting.

“Thought maybe I'd got the time wrong,” Clif said. “Mabel and I were about to leave.”

“It's exactly four,” Dalton said with exasperation. “And Loretta's not here yet.”

“Never knew her to be on time,” Clif said. “Might as well begin.”

Julie explained that Loretta had left a message with Mrs. Detweiller that she was running late on school business.

“Like I said,” Clif repeated, “might as well begin.”

“It's so sad not to have Mary Ellen here,” Mabel said as they took their seats at the table.

“Dalton and I were just talking about that,” Julie said.

“Should speed things up, though,” Clif said. “Mary Ellen did like to ask questions.”

“Very good ones,” Mabel said.

“Well, it was her money, so I guess she had a right. We going to replace her on this committee?”

“That's up to the board,” Julie answered. “But I can see that another member would be a good idea.”

“Steven would be wonderful,” Mabel said. “Carry on the tradition.”

“Don't think he'd be interested,” Clif said. “Never was. You heard what he said at the funeral—didn't spend much time here because Mary Ellen didn't like that wife of his. I guess they're married—she doesn't use his name, I understand.”

“Of course a lot of the issues are settled,” Dalton said, ignoring Clif's remarks. “When you think about it, we may not need to add a member since the design questions have all been answered and our role as a committee now is just to supervise the construction and deal with any change orders. Maybe we should bring this up on Friday and let the board decide? That okay with everyone?”

Clif nodded, as did Julie, but Mabel was about to speak when Loretta entered the room. “Sorry to be late, folks,” she said in her pleasant but rushed way. “With school over you'd think I'd be on time for things, but the superintendent called a special meeting. I'm glad you started.”

“We were just talking about the committee,” Dalton said, and reviewed what they had discussed.

“I'm okay either way,” Loretta said. “If it would help to put Steven Swanson on, to sort of keep the family tied in, that's fine with me. But like Dalton says, we probably won't have a lot to do now—not the way we have in the past.”

“Let the board decide,” Clif said. “What's our business here today, Dalton?”

Dalton summarized what the building committee needed to do.

“Then let's do that,” Clif said. “I've got my own business to run.”

Dalton reported on the excavation work and said the foundation would be poured within a week. “That's the extent of what the board authorized,” he reminded them, “because we hadn't given final approval to the construction documents. Our main goal today is to do that—if we agree, of course—and recommend that the board sign the construction contract.”

“What about the money?” Clif asked. “I'm not in favor of a lot of borrowing. Do we have enough in hand now to proceed with only the bridge loan at the end?”

Everyone in the room knew what Clif was asking: Could they count on the remainder of Mary Ellen Swanson's gift? “You want to answer that, Julie?” Dalton asked.

“Well, you're all aware that Mary Ellen had $500,000 left on her pledge. Some of you also know that Mary Ellen told me she expected to pay that off in full this summer. Naturally, with her … death, there was a question about that. Not about getting the money, but whether we would have to wait till her estate was probated. Steven Swanson very kindly asked the probate judge to release the half-million dollars to the society as soon as possible, before the whole estate is settled, and Henry LaBelle has talked to the probate judge and is pretty confident that will happen. So I think—”

“The cash is there?” Clif interrupted.

“Soon will be, yes.”

“Birch Brook closed, I heard. Guess that will take care of it.”

“I suppose that's right,” Julie continued, “but anyway, my understanding is that we'll be getting the rest of the gift pretty soon.”

“Donny Childerson?” Holdsworth asked.

“I'm sorry?”

“Donny Childerson. He the probate judge?”

“I think Henry said it was a Judge Childerson, yes.”

“That's okay, then. Donny's a Ryland boy. He'll do what's right. I'm satisfied, Dalton. Move we recommend the board sign the final construction contract.”

“Second!” Loretta sang out.

“Okay, it's been moved and seconded,” Dalton said. “Any discussion? I guess that really means, are we satisfied, as a committee, with all the plans and the construction documents?”

“Now if Mary Ellen were here,” Clif said, “that question would be worth asking. Fact is, the rest of us are satisfied. Have been for some time. I call the question.”

“Okay, Clif,” Dalton said. “But let's be sure we're all in agreement here. Loretta?”

“Absolutely. It's a great plan, great design. I say let's do it.”

“Mabel?”

“All the landscaping seems fine to me. I don't really know much about the rest, but you're the architect, Dalton, and I assume you're satisfied.”

“Delighted, really. But I'm only one person. Any other concerns?”

They voted unanimously to recommend proceeding. Julie felt relieved. Then Clif spoke: “Now I assume the board will have to have some assurance about the money. I think it's fair for the building committee to make the recommendation, but I'm sure as a full board we'll need some assurances. Henry going to be there on Friday?”

Julie said that Henry LaBelle would be present. “Maybe he'll have spoken to Donny by then,” Clif continued. “We finished, Dalton?”

“Just one more item,” Dalton said. “Most of you heard Steven Swanson's comment at the funeral about how the project honored
both his father and mother. Would the building committee care to go on record as recommending to the board that we name the building the Daniel and Mary Ellen Swanson Center?”

“Hear, hear!” Loretta Cummings said. “I so move.”

“Second,” Mabel said. There was no discussion. After a unanimous vote, Dalton declared the meeting adjourned. Clif stood up and walked to where Julie was sitting.

“Don't suppose you've heard any more about those shovels?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“As a matter of fact, I haven't. The police chief still has them, I guess. Or maybe the State Police. I can check again, Clif.” Having decided, uninvited, to call him by his first name, Julie was intent on being consistent, even though it required extra effort not to say
Mister
Holdsworth as she had for the past year.

“I'd appreciate that. Don't know why they're so interested in my shovels, but that's cops for you.”