Weaving the Strands (2 page)

Maggie knew the time had come to make her pitch.
“This would be an opportunity to put some of your academic ideas to the test in
the real world,” she entreated Upton. “And you wouldn’t be dealing with
tiresome faculty committees. I remember from my days as a college president’s
wife that you professors get frustrated with the slowness of everything. You
wouldn’t be subjected to that here. We need to make changes now.”

Professor Upton draped one arm over the back of
his chair and studied the anxious faces across the table. “Anything else that
you’d like to add to tempt me?” he asked.

“There
is
one more thing, Professor,”
Maggie replied. “We have no money in the budget to pay you, so your stipend
would be one dollar. And the eternal gratitude of an entire community.”

A smile emerged beneath the professor’s neatly
cropped gray mustache. “In that case,” he said, “you’d better start calling me Don,
which is what all my colleagues call me. Let’s order lunch and get started.”

Chapter 3

Glenn Vaughn leaned back into the
leather booth at Pete’s Bistro and idly ran his fingers up and down through the
condensation on his glass of iced tea. He stretched his long legs under the
table, content to wait patiently for his female companions as he had done
scores of times during his seventy-seven years. Gloria Harper was in the ladies
room and his granddaughter would be along shortly.

It was odd, he reflected, that Gloria, his late
wife’s best friend, and Cindy had never met. Gloria and Nancy, before she died,
had both faithfully volunteered at the daycare center for special needs
children located in the church next to Fairview Terraces. They spent most
weekday mornings together rocking babies and sharing their lives’ current
tidbits and detailed histories, forming the kind of deep friendship that women
are so good at.

Nancy had made friends with almost everyone in
Fairview Terraces. What was it she always told people considering moving into
the seniors’ apartment complex? That it was like being back in a college dorm
with all the fun people but none of the boring classes.

Glenn shifted in his seat. Despite living at
Fairview Terraces for more than ten years, he hadn’t made any firm friendships.
Most of his connections, including Gloria, had come through Nancy. He’d had a
very busy career as a civil engineer, and when he retired, Nancy’s
companionship had been enough for him.

 These days he didn’t even see his granddaughter
Cindy much. A physician’s assistant whose work always seemed to spill over into
her personal life, she routinely ran herself ragged, which all too often rendered
her unavailable for family time. Glenn was half afraid that she would cancel on
this luncheon at the last minute. Gloria would be so disappointed, although he
knew she would be too well mannered to show it.

From Fairview Terraces all the way to the
restaurant, Gloria chatted excitedly about presenting Cindy with the baby
blanket she had finished knitting for the young woman’s soon-to-be-born first
child. Nancy had started the blanket for her great-grandbaby, but she knew she
probably wouldn’t be able to complete it. When her death had suspended the
project mid-row, Gloria had taken up the project just as she promised Nancy she
would.

Glenn turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry to leave you waiting. When I came out of
the ladies room, I saw my friend Laura Fitzpatrick, and we got chatting about
her baby. I’m surprised at all of the young mothers I know. I think I’ll get
some yarn and start knitting another blanket in anticipation of the next baby
gift I’ll need,” Gloria said.

She settled herself across from him and regarded
him thoughtfully. “How are you doing these days, Glenn?”

“I’m adjusting,” he responded with a sigh. “I
always expected that I’d be the first to go, since I was so much older than
Nancy. I’ve gotten over being mad about that—well, most days I’m over
it—and I’m trying to fill my time with the things I told myself I’d do
when I retired.”

Gloria nodded. She’d been a widow for over fifty
years. Being left with nine young children to raise, she never had to worry
about how to fill her time. Now that they were all finally grown and gone, she
had grown accustomed to being on her own. When asked why she had never
remarried, she always quipped that no man in his right mind would ever want to
date a woman with nine children.

“Nancy told me you were a scratch golfer back in
the day.”

“She exaggerated a bit,” Glenn said. “I was all
right. My game was consistent. I play a couple of times a week now—that
fills up the best part of two days. I’ve always liked to build things, and I’ve
got a model ship going on the dining room table. I’m a voracious reader, and
I’ve started to dabble in—” He broke off suddenly as his cell phone
chirped and scrambled to wrangle it out of his pocket.

“Sorry. It’s Cindy,” he said, with unmistakable
tension in his voice. As he listened intently, a relieved smile lightened his
expression. “She’s pulling into the parking lot now. She’ll be right in.”

Gloria positioned the fancy gift bag she had
purchased the day before at Celebrations, her favorite shop on the square, so
that her gift sat proudly at the end of the table. She and Glenn turned toward
the rear entrance from the parking lot as Glenn’s radiant—and very
pregnant—granddaughter burst through the back door and hurried to their
table.

“So sorry I’m late. I hope you haven’t been
waiting too long. I’m Cindy Larsen,” she said, holding out her hand to Gloria.
“Gramma always said so many nice things about you. I know that you were
wonderful friends. I’m delighted to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, young lady,” Gloria
replied, squeezing Cindy’s arm. “Nancy thought the world of you, and I know she
was over the moon about your pregnancy. How are you feeling? When is the baby
due?”

“I’m feeling great; this has been a super-easy
pregnancy. I’m due in six weeks. Still, I have to admit I’m getting tired of
being pregnant—I’m ready to have this baby,” she said as she slid into
the booth next to her beaming grandfather and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“What’s all this?” she asked, eyeing the gift bag
in front of her.

“Always curious about presents, aren’t you?” Glenn
chided. “You were the grandchild who snooped for Christmas gifts. Let’s order,
and then we’ll get to that,” he said, signaling to their waiter.

“Okay,” she replied good-naturedly as she picked
up a menu.

With their orders placed, Gloria glanced at Glenn.
He cleared his throat and turned to Cindy, but the words didn’t seem to come.
Seeing his distress, Gloria quickly interceded.

“As I said, Nancy was overjoyed about the fact
that you were expecting. She was an expert knitter and had already created the
better part of this lovely blanket for your baby when she passed. It would have
been such a shame for it to remain undone, so I picked it up and finished it
off for you,” she said as she slid the gift bag toward Cindy. “Besides, I
promised Nancy I would. I’m not the knitter that she was, but it turned out
nicely.”

Cindy regarded Gloria with damp eyes and withdrew
the blanket wrapped in a cloud of tissue. With shaking hands, she held the
delicate white-lace pattern woven with yellow and green ribbons high above her
head. She stared at it in admiration, and then hugged it to herself as she
turned to Gloria.

“I don’t know what to say,” she choked. “This is
incredibly beautiful, and immeasurably kind of you to do this for me. And for
Gram. I’m sure she’s up there and is grateful. So am I.”

Although clearly gratified by this reaction,
Gloria modestly waved away the compliment. She glanced at Glenn and realized
that he, too, was on the verge of tears. “I’m delighted that you’re so
pleased,” she said quickly in an effort to get them back onto an even emotional
keel. “And don’t be afraid to use it; Nancy and I didn’t go to all of this
effort for it to sit in a drawer, you know.”

Their entrées arrived and they spent the next hour
and fifteen minutes in easy conversation centered on Cindy’s hopes for her baby
and her plans to juggle her family and her career. Gloria bit her tongue
several times. She knew that women today wanted to do things their own way and
didn’t want advice—no matter how well founded—from an old crone
like her. Still, she had taken a shine to this earnest young woman. When Cindy
looked at her watch and gasped, realizing that she was running late to meet her
husband, Gloria took her hand in both of hers.

“I know that you’re perfectly prepared to care for
your baby, but sometimes things don’t go according to the books. If you’ll
permit me one piece of advice, go with your instincts. They won’t let you down.
You’ll know your child better than anyone else. And if I can ever help you
think anything through, you know where to find me. There probably isn’t much I
haven’t seen, raising nine kids.”

“Oh, Gloria,” Cindy said, awkwardly leaning over
the table to give her a hug, “I was hoping you’d offer. And I can never express
how grateful I am to you for finishing Gram’s blanket.

“Gramps,” she said as she gave Glenn a kiss on the
cheek, “you are the best. Thank you for this. Will you stop by after church on
Sunday? Tom needs help putting the crib together—correctly at least.”

Glenn nodded and she swept back out the door.

“She’s an absolute delight,” Gloria said as they
settled back into the booth. “She’ll make a fine mother.”

Gloria studied Glenn intently. This outing had
done him a world of good. His color was better and his eyes sparkled.

“Let’s see what Laura’s Pie of the Day is today,
shall we?” he asked. He was stuffed from lunch, but was enjoying himself so
much that he wasn’t ready to leave.

“I’ve never met a pie I didn’t like. That’s a
capital idea!” Gloria replied.

Over two slices of peach pie, Glenn and Gloria
delved into topics from art to zoology. They were discussing Glenn’s interest
in poetry and Gloria’s lack of knowledge on the subject when the waiters began
resetting the restaurant for the dinner crowd.

“Good grief, it’s almost four o’clock,” Glenn
exclaimed. “And I remember that you wanted to be home by two,” he added
sheepishly. “I’m so sorry that I’ve kept you so long.”

“Not at all,” Gloria hastily reassured him. “I had
no idea we’ve so much in common. I can’t remember a better afternoon. And I
want to hear more of your views on poetry; I’m intrigued. I think I’ll pick up
a volume from the library.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Glenn replied. “I’ll
drop a couple of my favorite anthologies at your front door. Maybe we can go to
lunch together again to discuss them.”

Gloria smiled. “That’s a grand idea.”

With the promise of an encore in hand, they
reluctantly left the restaurant.

Chapter 4

Maggie glanced up from the
spreadsheets strewn across her desk at Town Hall and checked the time. Three
o’clock. She’d been up to her elbows in figures all day and still wasn’t any
closer to making sense of them. At least she’d be seeing John tonight. The
thought brought a smile to her lips and she leaned back in her chair, taking
off her reading glasses and tossing them on her desk.

Meeting John Allen, DVM, was possibly the best
thing that had ever happened to her. The long-divorced local veterinarian had
been so kind and gentle with both her and Eve, the stray terrier mix that
adopted Maggie on her first morning at Rosemont. How could she not start falling
for him?

She’d left California with the firm conviction
that relationships weren’t for her. By the time Paul died in the cardiac ICU,
their relationship had soured. What she learned after his death made her wonder
if she’d ever really known the man she’d been married to for more than
twenty-five years. Not only had Paul embezzled more than two million dollars
from Windsor College, he had maintained a mistress in grand style in the posh
Arizona suburb of Scottsdale. Then in a final bizarre twist, Maggie had
inherited Rosemont from Paul. Even now, almost a year after moving into the
manor, she still couldn’t believe that he had concealed its existence from her
for a decade after it had been left to him.

Maggie stood and stretched. She walked to the
window and leaned against the sill. How nice it would be to go away with John
for a long weekend. They needed to spend time together. Maybe a mini-vacation
would get him out of the doldrums, a side effect of his recent and long-overdue
knee replacement surgery.

Maggie knew that John hated being away from his
veterinary practice, especially since his patients—both human and
not—relied on his wisdom and gentle manner. He hated even more being
dependent on others to chauffeur him around. A better doctor than a patient,
he’d set his recovery back by ignoring doctor’s orders and pushing himself too
hard. The fact that he wouldn’t be able to resume driving for another six weeks
had rendered him inconsolably irritable.

Maggie smiled. She’d pick him up at physical
therapy and take him out for a nice dinner. Maybe they’d even stop for his
favorite dessert—butter pecan ice cream—on the way back to his
house. She’d been late the last three times she’d collected him from therapy.
She’d surprise him tonight and be waiting when he stepped out the door. She
needed to treat him like the priority he was.

Maggie’s phone began to ring and she quickly
returned to her desk, answering on the third ring with a cheerful “Maggie
Martin.”

“You certainly sound chipper, Ms. Mayor. But then
you’re not a pensioner whose checks may bounce.”

Maggie sank into her chair. This call was going to
take time. She knew from experience that it probably wouldn’t end well.

***

By the time she managed to get off
the phone, she was shocked to see that it was already dark outside. Her conversation
with the retired town worker who was concerned about his pension had taken far
longer than she would have liked. He’d been furious with her answers, and who
could blame him? No one wanted to find out that their retirement nest egg was
half of what had been expected. She listened to his complaints and sympathized
with his frustrations. Maybe he was right; maybe she should turn the job over
to someone else better qualified to deal with the financial mess. She certainly
hadn’t come up with any solutions.

Maggie quickly checked her watch. Ten minutes
after seven! She logged off her computer, snatched her purse from her desk
drawer, and hurried to the elevators. She fished her cell phone out of her
purse and dialed John’s mobile phone number as soon as she exited the elevator
on the ground floor.

“Hi, John,” she said as soon as he answered. “I’m
on my way. I should be there in about twenty minutes. Are you all done?” she
asked, hoping that he hadn’t been waiting for her. “You are? I know I was
supposed to be there at seven. And I’m so very sorry. I got a call from—”
She stopped as he cut her off.

“You’re right. It’s no excuse. I know I’m making a
habit of it.” Maggie listened attentively as she approached her car.

“The exception is getting to be the rule. You’re
right. I know you’re tired after physical therapy and that you’re anxious to
get home. I’m truly sorry. Can we talk about this later? I want to concentrate
on heading your way. I’ll see you shortly,” she said, punching off.

She had to admit he had every right to be furious
with her. How had she let this happen again?

She hovered by her car door and pulled on the
handle, but it wouldn’t open. “What in the world?” she muttered as she churned
through the contents of her purse like a cement mixer, looking for her keyless
remote. A tide of panic rose as she set her purse on the hood and pulled out
her wallet, makeup bag, and other miscellany searching for her keys. No
mistaking it; they weren’t there. It was after hours and Town Hall was locked
up tight as a drum. She didn’t remember seeing anyone else on her floor on the
way out.

Now she’d really be late. How could she be so
stupid as to lose her keys? She circled around to the back of the building and
noticed lights in one office on the top floor. The office of Councilman Frank
Haynes.

It was unusual for Haynes to be in his office at
Town Hall, let alone to be there in the evening. She found his number in her contacts
and placed her call. He picked up on the second ring.

“Why, Mayor Martin, is it? To what do I owe the
pleasure?” he said, dripping cordiality that didn’t quite ring true.

“Hi, Frank, how are you? Listen, I’m in a bit of a
pickle. I seem to have misplaced my car keys. I’m here in the lot at Town Hall.
My office key is on the ring with my car key, so I can’t get back into the
building to look for them. I see your light is on. Are you at Town Hall?”

“I most certainly am,” he crooned. “I’ll come to
the rear entrance and let you in. On my way.”

“Thank you, Frank,” Maggie replied, but he had
already disconnected. She took a deep breath; she’d have to call John about
this further delay. Why did she have to lose her keys tonight of all nights?

Maggie punched in his number. “No, I’m not there
yet. I’m still in my parking lot. Stranded for the moment. I can’t find my
keys.” She winced. He was tired and upset, and she couldn’t blame him.

“I’m not sure where they are. Probably fell out of
my purse into my desk drawer. Fortunately, Frank Haynes is working late and is
coming down to let me in so I can look for them. I’ll call you as soon as I
find them and am on my way.” Maggie paused and listened.

“I don’t want you to take a cab. I’m going to take
you to get a bite to eat.” Her shoulders drooped as she continued to listen.

“I understand. You’d like to get home. Yes, we
need to talk. Oh,” Maggie turned as Haynes approached across the lot. “Frank’s
here to let me in. I’ve got to go. Can I call you later?” Maggie listened. “No,
you’re right. Don’t wait up for me. If you have to be up early, just get to
bed. We can talk tomorrow. Goodnight, John.” Maggie took a deep breath. “And
please know how sorry I am.” She rang off without the satisfaction of any
reassurance from him.

Haynes gave her a quizzical look and smiled
sympathetically. “Sounds like someone might be in the doghouse,” he said.

Maggie ignored his unsolicited observation and
turned toward the entrance. Truthfully, her conversation with John had unnerved
her she realized as she and Haynes silently walked toward the elevators. She
couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

The elevator stopping at their floor jolted her
out of her reflection. Haynes held the door. “Housewares and appliances,” he
said in an attempt at humor. Maggie smiled weakly and headed toward her office.

“Thank you so much, Frank. I’m glad you were here
tonight.” She stopped and turned to face him. “Why are you here so late? What
are you working on?”

“Just catching up on paperwork and correspondence
to my constituents,” he replied, obviously irritated by her inquisitiveness.
Here he was, doing her a favor. She wasn’t his supervisor.
Nervy broad
,
he thought.
Some things never change.

Maggie eyed him thoughtfully and nodded. “You
answer all your own mail, don’t you? I’ve heard that. I know that you’re very busy
with your franchise businesses. But you’re also dedicated to your district. You
put in a lot of time as a councilmember. That’s admirable. You should be very
proud of your service.”

In spite of himself, Haynes flushed with pleasure.
This woman confounded him. Just when he had her firmly placed in the enemy
camp, she did or said something genuinely nice. He shook his head slowly as
Maggie retreated to her office.

***

As anticipated, Maggie found her
keys in the corner of her desk drawer. She thought fleetingly about firing her
computer back up and working for another couple of hours, but firmly dismissed
the idea. The mountain of work could wait. Attending to her relationship with
John Allen could not.

Maggie got into her car and set off to procure a
carton of ice cream.

Have butter pecan in hand. Are you up for
dessert?
Maggie texted John.

She waited for a return text. When none appeared,
she started her car and pulled out of the grocery parking lot. Instead of
heading directly to Rosemont, she decided to take the long way home—past
John’s house—in case he replied.

When she reached the stop sign at the entrance to
his street, she paused. Should she drive by to see if his lights were on? And
if they were, should she park across the street and call him? March up to his
door and ring the bell? She was reminded of Susan during high school. Her
daughter had driven by her boyfriend’s house incessantly to keep tabs on him,
which only led to information that made her miserable. And now, fifteen years
later (and many years older than Susan had been at the time), she was doing the
same thing.

Maggie turned onto John’s street. She was here, so
she might as well drive by. Lights were on.
He’s still up,
she thought
happily. She punched his number in her cell phone, with a cheery invitation on
her lips. Her smile faded as the phone continued to ring and finally went to
voicemail. She hadn’t been prepared for this. In a panic, she punched the end
button without leaving a message. Reluctantly tearing her attention away from
his house, she headed home.