Coming to Rosemont (4 page)

Over a generous helping of the best pot roast
Maggie had had in years, she learned that Sam was a custodian at the local
elementary school and Joan was a dispatcher for the Westbury Police Department.
They were both born in town and had been high school sweethearts. They had
three grown children, seven grandchildren, and were active members of the
Methodist Church. Their hobby was travel, and they took one big trip each
summer. They funded their travels by taking on extra jobs. Sam did handyman
work after school each afternoon and on Saturdays, and Joan took in sewing and
alterations.

“So where are you headed on your next trip?”
Maggie asked, and instantly regretted it. Joan began twisting her napkin, and
the couple exchanged a wary glance.

Sam sighed. “We don’t have anything planned at the
moment. We hoped to go to Italy this summer, but we’re holding off. Westbury is
in terrible financial shape. We both have over thirty years of seniority and
aren’t worried about being laid off, but we’ve had unpaid furlough days, and
there is talk that the town’s pension fund wasn’t properly invested and is
broke.”

Joan brought one hand to her chest and leaned
forward. “We’ve worked long and hard all our lives, been model employees. And
now we don’t know if our retirement is secure or not. We’re in our early
sixties. We can’t replace all of that money now. We’ve always lived within our
budget, which wasn’t always easy. Put our kids through college. We thought that
our retirement would be the time for us to do what we wanted.”

Maggie was shocked. “What do you mean
broke
?
Aren’t the town’s financials audited each year? How could that even be possible?”
And then she thought about Paul’s financial misdeeds—Paul who was widely
thought to be above reproach by everyone—and realized that this terrible
suspicion might be true.

“William Wheeler has been our mayor for thirteen
years, and his dad was mayor before him. Things ran pretty well for a long
time. This is fertile land and our farm families have done well. We were home
to several large manufacturing plants. When the manufacturing jobs went to
China and the factories wound down, they brought in a couple of high-end golf
courses and tourism took over where the factories left off. But with this
Recession, tourism is way down. The shops that were supported by our visitors
are struggling, and no one is buying second homes on the golf courses.”

Sam continued, “Wheeler’s cronies make up our town
council. Or they did until last year when we elected our first independent council-member,
Tonya Holmes. She discovered the shortage in the pension account. This is all
just starting to come to light. We don’t know what’s true or where to turn. I
don’t trust Wheeler and his bunch, that’s for sure. Tonya is having a town
meeting Wednesday night at the library to tell everyone what she’s found out so
far. We’ll be in the front row,” he said vehemently.

“Is she working with anyone on this? You may want
to get a forensic accountant involved. As I said, that’s my specialty. I can
recommend someone if you’d like. Here’s my card,” Maggie said, fishing one out
of her purse. “The number is my cell. You can tell Tonya to call me, if she’d like.
I’d be happy to talk with her. I’m so sorry—this is just terrible. I hope
you find it’s not as bad as you think.”

Sam took the card. “We do, too. Thank you. Enough
of this—what do you plan to do tomorrow?”

“I’ll rent a car. I want to get Eve to the vet to
see if she has a microchip. I’m getting very attached to her. If she has an
owner, I need to return her as soon as possible.” Maggie sighed. “And I’ll tell
the realtor I’m not selling. Then I should get the house in shape to move into.
I haven’t even uncovered all of the furniture or figured out what repairs are
needed or changes I’d like to make.” Maggie turned to face Sam. “Would you have
time to help me assess the house and to make the necessary repairs?”

“Absolutely. I’m not the fastest handyman around,
but I’m also not the most expensive, and I don’t believe anyone does better
work than I do. I work alone, at my own pace. I’ve found that a lot of mistakes
can be avoided if you think things through first. If I need help, I can call on
another maintenance man from the school. He takes on extra jobs, too. We’ve
worked together for over thirty years, so we know each other’s ways and habits,
strengths and weaknesses. We make a good team. And I’ll always get you the best
materials at the lowest price. I’ll tell you where to cut corners, and when you
can’t. If you don’t like something I’ve done, I’ll redo it until you’re happy.
As simple as that.”

“Sounds perfect. When can you start?”

***

Maggie was bone-tired when she
turned back the sheets and climbed into the new, unfamiliar bed. Eve leapt onto
the bed easily, circled around, and settled at Maggie’s feet, while Maggie
replayed the conversations she’d had with Mike and Susan a few hours earlier.
She hoped she had done the right thing by remaining silent about her decision
to uproot her life and move to Westbury. She wasn’t ready to get into a big
discussion about it yet.

Maybe they were just too busy with their own
lives—Mike getting the twins to bed and Susan preparing for a hearing in
one of her cases—but they didn’t seem overly interested in what had been
going on in her world. They were satisfied with her quick report about the
house and the weather, and accepted without question her news that it would
take a bit longer for her to finish her business in Westbury. She nestled into
the crisp sheets and was caressed by sleep, as Eve faintly snored at her feet.

Chapter 3

Maggie woke early the next morning,
rested and ready to launch into her new life. First priorities were to pick up
a rental car and take Eve to the vet for a good once over. She also needed dog
food and cleaning supplies. She arranged to get the car at the hotel on the
square right after lunch and made an appointment with the nearest vet, Dr. John
Allen. It was going to be another cold, sunny day, and she and Eve could walk
through the square to his office for their mid-morning appointment.

Maggie uncovered the downstairs furniture before
they set out for Eve’s appointment. Rosemont was filled with lovely antiques.
Some of the upholstery had seen better days, but it all looked serviceable.
Cleaning this place, however, was going to be a huge task.

Maggie fashioned a makeshift collar and leash out
of twine that she found in a kitchen drawer, and she and Eve set out into the
bright morning. Eve was well mannered on the leash, and Maggie’s heart sank as
she worried that Eve might have an owner who would be looking for her. She
pushed the thought from her mind as they walked past the storefronts lining the
square.

The window of Laura’s Bakery stopped them both in
their tracks. A tiered stand showcased elaborately iced cakes flanked by pies
sporting flaky, golden crusts. The wonderful aroma of baking bread rolled out
into the street. A water dish by the entrance invited Eve to take a drink. A sign
in the window announced the town meeting at the Westbury Library on Wednesday
night.

As Eve lapped up a long drink, the pretty young
woman placing a tray of cupcakes in a case looked up and smiled. Maggie nodded
and smiled in return, and the tall, dark-haired woman quickly came to the door
and beckoned them both in. “We don’t discriminate against dogs here. She can
come in. I’m Laura Fitzpatrick. I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you visiting Westbury?”

“No. I’m in the process of moving here.” Maggie
shook Laura’s hand. “Maggie Martin. I inherited Rosemont and arrived here two
days ago. I’m going to make Westbury my home.”

“Terrific—how exciting! I’m fairly new here
myself. I moved to Westbury three years ago when Pete and I got married. Pete
runs the bistro next door. Have you seen it yet? We’re connected right through
that doorway past the case. You can get a pastry here and take it next door to
eat it with a cup of the best coffee in town. He has live music on Friday and
Saturday nights. If you don’t want rowdy dance music, you can go to Pete’s for
really good jazz and folk music from local artists. And you can get free Wi-Fi.”

Maggie smiled at the obvious pride that this
confident young woman—Susan’s age?—displayed in her business.
“You’ll see a lot of me, then. I’m a consultant and am online all day long. I
need to get Internet service set up at Rosemont, but I like to get out of the
house to work, too. So I’ll be back. And I’ll be hungry,” she assured Laura.

“And who is this?” Laura asked, pointing to Eve.

“I’ve named her Eve,” Maggie said and launched
into the tale of their meeting. “We’re headed to Dr. Allen’s right now to get
her checked out. I’m pretty attached to her already. I hope she doesn’t have an
owner.” Maggie sighed.

“She’s a sweet thing, isn’t she?” Laura observed.
“I haven’t seen her around, and we get a lot of dogs in here,” she said,
gesturing to the water bowl. “I hope you can keep her. And that the two of you
become regulars.” She reached into a jar under the counter and came out with a dog
biscuit for Eve. “When you come back, pick a cupcake for yourself, my treat.”

Maggie reluctantly left the warmth of the shop for
the chilly street. She glanced at her watch and realized that they would have
to hustle to make their appointment on time. Exploring any of the other shops
would have to wait.

They set off at a trot, and Maggie reached for the
door of the Westbury Animal Hospital as it was being opened by a tall man in a
cashmere sport coat wielding a large animal carrier. Maggie stepped back to
allow him to pass, but he held the door and insisted she take the right of way.
He set his carrier on the floor and got down on one knee to greet Eve.
He
knows her,
Maggie realized as her heart plummeted to her shoes. She paused
to collect herself while the man accepted Eve’s effusive greeting.
Darn it,
she
thought,
I’m going to have to give her up. Just when I thought things were
changing for me. He looks nice and Eve seems to like him, but I wanted her for
me.
Maggie knew she was being childish but didn’t care. Wasn’t it high time
things went her way?

The man turned to Maggie as he stood up. “This dog
escaped from the Forever Friends shelter. We’ve been worried sick about her,
what with the storm that moved in. I’m so glad she’s well and that you found
her,” he said as he reached for the leash.

Maggie took a step back and kept a firm hold on
the leash. “So she’s not your dog? She’s up for adoption?” she asked in a voice
that radiated relief and hope. Before he could answer, she extended her hand.
“I’m Maggie Martin.”

“Frank Haynes,” he answered as he shook her hand.
“Yes, she is. Or she will be. We need to have her checked out by the vet here before
we put her up for adoption.”

“I was bringing her in to do just that,” Maggie
replied. “Why don’t you let me take care of that for you? If she gets the
go-ahead from the vet, I’d like to adopt her. Can we arrange that? I’ll pay
whatever fee you charge.”

Haynes regarded her thoughtfully. Maggie Martin.
He hadn’t heard of her before. Hadn’t seen her around. Attractive, probably in
her fifties, articulate and self-assured. Expensively dressed.
Probably some
self-important professional woman. God—the place was getting overrun by
them. Like that insufferable Tonya Holmes on the council.
He snapped his
attention back to the woman who was eyeing him curiously, waiting for his
reply.

“Yes. I’m sure that would be fine.” He reached
into the breast pocket of his jacket and produced a business card for Forever
Friends. “Just call the shelter and they can take care of the paperwork. I’ll
let them know we’ve agreed to this arrangement.”

“Thank you so much,” Maggie gushed and shook his
hand again warmly. Haynes fought the urge to recoil. “I’m thrilled to have her.
We’re starting a new life together.”

At this odd remark, something clicked in Haynes’
computer-like memory. He brought his left hand to grasp their joined hands. “Martin,
did you say? Are you related to the late Paul Martin?”

The mention of Paul’s name still sent an
unpleasant shiver through Maggie. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he was
holding it captive. “Yes. He was my husband. Did you know Paul?”

“My condolences, Mrs. Martin. No. I never met him.
I heard you were coming to town to list Rosemont for sale,” he probed, wondering
why in the world she would be adopting a dog here to take home to California.
Haynes had done his homework. He had admired Rosemont for as long as he could
remember. Had walked by it and daydreamed about it as a kid from the wrong side
of the tracks and had lusted after it as a wealthy self-made businessman. He
was determined to buy it and knew that the owner was a widow who lived in
California. With the depressed state of the luxury real estate market, he
planned to let it sit on the market for six months and pick it up with a
low-ball offer when the stress of maintaining an aging property became too much
for the suffering widow. He would let the realtor know he was interested and
not to accept any offers without checking with him first. In the unlikely event
someone came along to buy the place, he could always come in with a strong cash
offer. But no point in overpaying if he didn’t have to.

She was once more regarding him curiously. “Rumors
do fly in a small town, don’t they?” she commented as she forcefully extricated
her hand from his grasp. “I’ve decided not to sell Rosemont. I’m going to keep
it and move here instead. That’s why I’ve adopted Eve.”

Haynes felt like she had slapped him across the
face with the back of her hand.
How dare she? Damn it.
He wanted that
house! If he had Rosemont, everyone in this stinking town would know that he
had made it. No one would look down their nose at his lack of a fancy education
or his fast-food franchises, whose menus they criticized but whose convenience
they loved. He was tired of feeling like everyone branded him as blue-collar,
even though his suits cost thousands of dollars, he donated generously to every
sports team and charity and held a spot on that group of idiots they called a
town council. Owning Rosemont would bring it all together for him. Before long,
people would forget that he hadn’t lived there all along. Haynes realized that
he had stopped listening to her. She was rambling on about some stupid job of
hers—about how she could work at home—could work anywhere in the
country. And a flash of brilliance hit him. Maybe he could move into Rosemont
without buying it. He gave this Maggie Martin another going over. She would be
considered attractive. Self-sufficient, probably. Maybe it was time for him to
reconsider his aversion to remarrying? He involuntarily shuddered at the
thought. He’d give it some time. She might grow tired of the house or this town
and run back to Southern California with her tail between her legs, and he’d be
able to pick up Rosemont even cheaper as a result. The thought positively
cheered him.

Haynes forced a smile onto his lips that wasn’t
mirrored in the harsh lines around his eyes. “Welcome to Westbury, then. Be
sure to stop by the shelter to complete the paperwork for Eve.” Before Maggie
could respond, the technician signaled that it was time for Eve’s appointment.
Haynes turned on his heel and strode out the door.

***

Maggie’s first impression of John
Allen, DVM, was of a man with a gentle nature and deep, abiding kindness. He
was of medium height, with a strong frame that gave him a substantial
appearance. Dark hair, graying at the temples, and clear blue eyes. In his
mid-fifties? She instantly liked him.

“How can I help you?” Dr. Allen asked after
introducing himself.

Maggie told him she was in the process of moving
to Westbury and once again repeated her tale of how she first met Eve. “I’ve
been worried that she had an owner, but I ran into a man on the way in here
that said she escaped from a rescue shelter and if she checks out by you, I can
adopt her.”

“Ah, yes. That would be Frank Haynes. He’s the
driving force behind the shelter. Okay—let’s get her on the exam table
and take a look. She doesn’t seem the worse for wear after spending the night
out in that storm.”

Maggie held the squirming dog while the vet took
Eve’s vital signs and began his exam. “Has she been eating and drinking?”

“Yes—just fine. And she’s housebroken. How
old do you think she is? Is she full grown?”

Dr. Allen examined her white, smooth teeth. “She’s
a young dog—full grown—but probably only a year or eighteen months
old. Still a lot of puppy left in her. She’s tolerating all of this very well.
You’ll want to get her spayed as soon as you can. She’ll live longer and be
healthier if you do. You’re not going to breed her?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll be returning to California
next week. Can I have that done while I’m gone? I’ll be away for about ten
days. Is that too long to leave her here? Do you do boarding?”

“We do. That should work just fine.”

Maggie took Eve in her arms and nuzzled her neck.
John thought the dog would bring her a great deal of happiness, as pets often
did for lonely people. Including himself.

“I’ve never owned a dog before. I don’t know what
to do,” she admitted. “Can you give me a crash course on what I need to know?
Do you have a pamphlet or something?” she asked, casting her eyes around the
exam room.

What a sweet, open spirit,
he thought to
himself.
Who is this gorgeous woman that just stepped into my world?

He laughed. “It’s not complicated: yearly shots,
dog food twice a day. No people food or scraps,” he warned sternly, figuring
her to be a light touch to a begging animal. “Grooming and walks, and you’ve
pretty much got it covered. You’ll be a pro in no time,” he assured her. “Can
you leave her with me for the day? We’ll check her over completely, give her
shots and a bath. I’ll send you home with a sample of dog food, and you can get
more if she likes it. Can you pick her up between four and five?”

Maggie heaved a sigh of relief. “That will be
perfect. And can you put a microchip in her for me? We’ve both just moved into
Rosemont,” she stated, thinking again that she really was going to do
this—just pull up stakes and relocate her life to Westbury.

Maggie left Eve in the capable custody of the
Westbury Animal Hospital and stepped out into the brisk late morning. She
decided to pick up a sandwich at Pete’s. Laura greeted her like an old friend,
and already she was beginning to feel like she was a part of this place.

As she ate, she started a mental list of the many
tasks ahead of her. She dreaded telling the realtor, who had been delighted at
the prospect of listing Rosemont. She toyed with the idea of calling him, but
decided that would be cowardly and he deserved to be told face to face. Maggie
wanted to get off on the right foot in Westbury, and realtors knew everybody in
a small town. She’d get it over with after lunch.

***

The car was ready as promised and,
after providing vague answers to a flurry of nosey questions from the rental
agency clerk, she plucked Tim Knudsen’s card from her wallet, entered his
address in the car’s GPS, and set off. She arrived fifteen minutes early, but
Tim was waiting for her and ushered her into his office.

Maggie quickly got to the point. “I’m terribly
sorry to have wasted your time, but I’ve decided to keep Rosemont. I’m going to
live there full time.”