CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Thirsty and weighted down with stones, the Wolf dragged himself to the well for a drink but when he reached for the bucket he fell right in.
A
s often happens after a storm, the next day dawned bright and clear. The temperature was a balmy 20 degrees, the sky was cloudless and bright blue. The sunshine was dazzling against the fresh snow; you had to squint to see.
Lucy and Bill were back at the library, ostensibly to survey the damage, but also drawn by the need to see the site of Bill's near-fatal adventure.
“You fell from there,” said Lucy, pointing to the corner of the addition high above them.
“I was sure lucky I fell into a snowdrift,” said Bill, with the stunned amazement of one who has survived a close call.
“You sure wereâespecially if you think of all the stuff that's under that snowâconcrete blocks, scraps of wood and pipe.” She squeezed his arm. “I've never been so terrified.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “It just wasn't my time, I guess.”
They stood in silence for a moment, aware that Ed Bumpus hadn't been nearly as lucky as Bill. He was still inside the shell of the addition, trapped beneath tons of rubble. Searchers were combing through the mess looking for him, but no one expected to find him alive.
“That was some night,” said Ted Stillings, joining them and opening his camera bag. “They're calling it the storm of the century, you know. Power's out over most of the state, there was a big accident on the Interstate, and nobody knows yet how many fishing boats were lost.” He raised his camera and began snapping photos of the damaged addition. “Have they found him yet?”
“No, they're still looking,” said Lucy.
“You know, I never much liked that guy,” said Ted. “But I never figured him for a murderer. Shoddy construction, yes, but not murder.”
“One led to the other,” said Lucy. “He let the contractor substitute cheaper stuff . . .”
“And probably got a handsome kickback himself,” added Bill.
“When Bitsy started comparing the invoices with the estimates she realized what he'd done, so he killed her. Then when Hayden started asking questions he got the bright idea of killing him and making it look like suicideâeveryone would naturally think he was stricken with guilt and remorse for killing Bitsy. Then when he realized it was all going to come crashing downâliterallyâhe tried to make Bill,” she paused and smiled apologetically, “the fall guy.”
“Can I quote you?” asked Ted, grinning wickedly.
“No!” exclaimed Lucy. “Absolutely not. I don't want to get charged with tasteless punning.”
They were enjoying a shared laugh when a flurry of activity caught their attention. One of the searchers was waving to the ambulance crew that was standing by. They responded quickly, jumping out of the cab where they had been keeping warm and rushing into the wrecked building with a stretcher. It seemed like quite a while before they emerged, carrying a shrouded form. Bill and Lucy watched silently, but Ted hurried over to question the searchers.
“I can't say I'm unhappy he's dead,” confessed Bill.
“Me, either,” said Lucy with a little shudder. “He killed two people and he would have killed you, too, just to make some money. What was it for?”
“He wasn't the kind of guy who could ever say noânot to a supplier with a shady deal, not to a worker who found a shortcut. You can't run a business like that. Plus, he had to be a big shotâhe liked living high on the hog. He had to have a big roll of bills in his pocket, he had to have the biggest truck, the hunting trips. If business wasn't good, and it hasn't been this winter because of the weather, he had to get his money somewhere else. He wasn't the kind of guy who would tighten his belt and wait for things to get better.”
“I didn't like him at the board meeting but then I felt guilty when I saw him at the food pantry. I guess that was just another kind of showing off,” said Lucy. “I don't think he really wanted to kill you, you know. He kept trying to warn me offâthe near miss when the kids were sledding, the car fire. I guess he thought he had no choice when he saw me with that folder.”
“The stupid thing is I never even looked at it. I didn't know what was going on when he started to fight with me on that roof. I thought he'd lost his mind.”
“I'm sure glad you're okay.”
“Me, too.”
Arm in arm, they turned to go and encountered Chuck Canaday.
“This is one hell of a mess,” he said, shaking his head.
Then he reached out and clasped Bill's hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Just had the wind knocked out of meâthanks to the snow and my down jacket.”
Canaday nodded, then his gaze shifted to the library building. He sighed and shook his head. “What a shambles. All the work and planning that went into that addition, not to mention two lives. All because he was greedy.”
“Do you have any idea how much Ed took?” Lucy had to know.
“I figured it out last night. I think it was close to $50,000. It wasn't just the roof, you know. He shaved something off everything. Carpeting. Light fixtures, everything. And this was a half-million-dollar project.”
“What will happen now?”
“I don't know. I can tell you one thing, though. The board has plenty of work to do.” He looked at Bill. “I don't suppose I could persuade you to fill one of the vacancies?”
Bill scratched his beard. “Sorry,” he said. “I'm not much of a reader.”
EPILOGUE
. . . and they all lived happily ever after.
A
year later, as Lucy poured herself a cup of punch at the dedication of the newly completed Julia Ward Howe Tilley wing of the library, the awful night of the Valentine's Day blizzard had already receded into the distant past. The reconstruction had gone smoothly, and standing in the rebuilt children's room, she found it hard to believe she had stood in the snow last winter and watched it collapse into a heap of rubble.
Once again there were sparkling windows and fresh, clean carpeting; the child-sized chairs and low bookshelves had all been replaced. In addition, several computer stations now provided access to the larger world beyond Tinker's Cove. And high above them, Lucy knew, strong steel beams properly supported the roof that provided protection from rain and snow and cold.
It would all be perfect, she thought, except for one thing: Josiah's Tankard was still missing from its glass case in the vestibule.
But this was no time to dwell on the negative, thought Lucy, taking a sip of punch and looking about at the crowded library. Today was a day of celebration, and apparently nobody had wanted to miss it. In addition to the board members Lucy spotted many familiar faces: Barney had planted himself in a corner and was chewing the fat with the fire chief; Ted Stillings was snapping pictures and getting quotes for
The Pennysaver
from the librarian, Eunice Sparks; and both Edna and Edith Withers had come, enlivening the scene with their matching pink and orange plaid pantsuits. Juanita and a group of mothers had gathered in a circle, chatting and bouncing toddlers on their hips.
“Lucy, let's check out the food,” invited Sue, leading the way to the buffet table. “I hear Corney has gone all out.”
Lucy had to agree. The long table was filled with platters of tiny cakes and sandwiches; there were mounds of fruit topped with strawberries dipped in chocolate, and plates heaped with cookies for the children. Menus, hand written in calligraphy, were placed at each end of the table.
“This Aunt Fannie's salmon spread is pretty good,” admitted Sue, peering at the menu. “I wonder where she got the recipe?”
Corney beamed at her from her spot behind the table; these days she was only too happy to share the credit. “It's in the Fannie Farmer cookbook,” she crowed. “I got the idea from Lucyâshe told me how she always called the book âAunt Fannie' because it made her feel she had a helper in the kitchen.” She bent closer. “In order to settle that awful lawsuit I agreed to provide attribution for my recipes and this seemed like a charming way to do it, don't you think?”
“I guess,” said Sue, reaching for another sandwich.
“There's more to creating good food than a recipe, anyway,” said Lucy. “It's the ingredients you choose, and the care you take in combining them.”
“I couldn't agree more,” said Corney, holding out a plate. “Try these cheese puffs.”
“Mmm,” said Lucy, reaching for another. “Terrific. Today I'm forgetting about calories.”
Noticing a buzz of activity near the doorway, Lucy and Sue made their way through the crowd. Reaching the circulation desk, they found a pink and beaming Miss Tilley surrounded by a group of her cronies. She was waving a letter.
“I just got it todayâit's from Lu Asquithâshe's arranged to purchase Josiah's Tankard and is presenting it to the library!”
“But how can she do that?” asked Dot Kirwan, who was always up to date on the gossip thanks to her job at the IGA. “Last I heard, the bank was taking the house. She was going to move in with her sister in Florida until Gerald gets out of jail next year.”
“She was,” nodded Miss Tilley. “In fact, she was packing to go. She was going through Gerald's things, deciding what to keep and what to give away, and she found a Lotto ticket. They're good for a year, you know, so she took it to the Quik-Stop. They punched it into the machine and you know what?” Miss Tilley paused, enjoying keeping everyone in suspense. “It was worth two million dollars!”
For a moment the room was silent, then there was an explosion of voices.
“Wow,” said Sue. “That's some lucky lady.”
“Yeah,” nodded Lucy. “But it's kind of awful in a way. Just think how different things might have been for Gerald. I wonder if he just forgot it or . . .”
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a spoon tapping against a glass.
“It's time to get started,” began Chuck. “I promise I won't keep you from those delicious refreshments for long. But as chairman of the library board I need to acknowledge some very hard-working people. As you all know, we suffered a terrible blow last February when the original addition collapsed. Rebuilding would not have been possible without the cooperation of the Megunticook Insurance Company, and I especially want to thank Henry Howe, the vice president in charge of claims, for his guidance and understanding.”
He paused, indicating a gray-haired man in a suit, and there was a polite round of applause.
“A very big thank you is also due to librarian Eunice Sparks, who managed to keep the library up and running throughout this difficult period.”
Eunice bobbed her head and was greeted with smiles and more applause.
“I also want to thank our new board members, who weren't afraid to take on a challenge that sometimes seemed overwhelming: Juanita Orenstein, the Reverend Clive Macintosh, and Jack Mulroney from the Tinker's Cove Savings Bank.”
He paused again, and there was another round of applause.
“And, of course, great thanks is due to the faithful board members who held firm and did not flee from adversity: Lucy Stone and my lovely wife, Corney Clarke Canaday, who is responsible for the wonderful refreshments we are all enjoying today.”
This was met with an enthusiastic outburst of clapping and even a few whistles from the men gathered in the corner, but Chuck held up his hand, asking for quiet.
“Finally, it is time to acknowledge the person who has given the most to the library throughout the years and the person in whose honor we are dedicating this fine new addition: Miss Julia Ward Howe Tilley. To commemorate this occasion I have a plaque to present to Miss Titleyâwhere are you?”
There was a hush as Miss Tilley came forward, moving slowly and leaning on Rachel's arm. When she finally reached the front of the room, Chuck had to swallow hard before he could continue.
“I think everyone here agrees with me that if there is one person who exemplifies the spirit of this library, it is Miss Tilley. As the librarian for many years and then as a board member, she has always maintained that our town's most valuable assets are the inquiring minds of its residents and has insisted that the library provide the information and inspiration needed to nourish those minds. In recognition of her life-long contribution to Tinker's Cove, I hereby dedicate this new addition the Julia Ward Howe Tilley Room.”
He bent down, placing the plaque in her shaking hands and planting a kiss on her cheek.
“That's something I've wanted to do for a long time,” he joked, prompting the crowd to erupt in a cheerful ovation. Lucy enthusiastically joined the clapping, blinking furiously to stop the tears that were filling her eyes.
When the noise finally began to subside, Miss Tilley took a step forward.
“This is truly a wonderful honor and I want to thank you all very much,” she said, clutching the plaque to her chest. “But as marvelous as all this is, I have to admit that it's not quite enough.”
There was a stunned silence. Chuck looked as if he'd been slapped. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, taking a step forward and lifting her chin in a challenge. “The one thing that would please me more than anything would be for Tinker's Cove to have the highest per capita circulation in the state.”
“That doesn't sound too hardâwhat would it take to do that, Eunice?”
“Every card holder would have to borrow 12 books,” answered Eunice, peering over her half-glasses from her post behind the circulation desk.
“That's just one a monthâwe can do that, can't we, folks?”
Chuck's question was met with nods and murmurs of assent until Corney stepped forward.
“I'd like to sweeten the challenge, if I may,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes coyly. “I'll be happy to bake a Marvelous Mocha Cheesecake for the person who reads the most books in one year.”
“Hear that, everybody?” announced Chuck. “The person who reads the most books wins a cake!”
Corney's offer was met with great approval from the crowd, who cheered and clapped. Lucy sneaked a peek at Sue, and caught her rolling her eyes. Sue didn't seem to like the new, kinder and gentler Corney any more than she had liked the earlier, pricklier version.
“Well, I've had enough of this,” she said, setting her plate down on the table and brushing off her hands. “It's time to hit the road before all this sweetness and light sends me into insulin shock.”
“I ought to get going, too,” said Lucy. “But first I want to congratulate Miss Tilley. See you later.”
She turned, intending to join the group that had gathered around Miss Tilley, but was discouraged by the large number of people. She wouldn't be missed, she decided, resolving to stop by for a visit tomorrow. If she didn't get home and get the pot roast started soon, it wouldn't be ready in time for supper.
Leaving the group, she headed for the computers, where Zoe and Sadie were playing an educational game.
“It's time to go, Zoe. Could you please turn off the computer and say good-bye to Sadie?”
“Aw, Mom,” whined the little girl, sticking out her lower lip in a pout. “Can't I play just one more game?”