Bachelor's Puzzle

CHAPTER TWO

ELISE GUIDED her Escort into the garage, the long day having finally taken its toll. At the moment she felt every bit of her fifty-three years. In fact, she felt a hundred and fifty-three! Her head ached, her back ached, her feet ached. She had been too exhausted to do more than pick at her food earlier when someone was kind enough to bring dinner to the volunteers at the church hall. But at least they had gotten the job done. Most of the books were now resting jauntily on end, their pages fanned open, continuing the process of drying. And the books that needed to be sent away and were valuable enough for the library to justify the costly procedure of reclaiming them had been frozen as procedure dictated. In all, only a small number would likely be lost. Considering everything, they had gotten off lightly. If the leak had been larger, or if it had occurred somewhere else—say, over the Tyler Collection that she had spent years gathering and that contained archival papers of the town’s history as well as old photographs that couldn’t be replaced... Elise shuddered at the thought. The day would have been a catastrophe. Now the only difficulty was the worrisome fact that such a catastrophe could still occur. If the pipes in one section of the library were in such poor condition, it stood to reason that pipes elsewhere could be the same. Not to mention the condition of the roof. Elise shook her head in quick denial. She didn’t want to think about the condition of the roof!

After gathering her purse and jacket, she let herself out of the car. Where once her suit had been crisp and smart, the skirt and blouse now looked to be in almost as wretched a condition as her dress had earlier. She hadn’t bothered to go home again to change into clothes suitable for the book rescue work. She hadn’t wanted to take the time. So she’d just removed her jacket and set to work. And after an afternoon spent wiping down shelves and walls and floors, and an evening supervising the transfer of water-damaged books, her clothes might never be the same.

Elise fitted her key into the back door lock and stepped inside the house that she and Bea had lived in for most of their adult lives. The design was perfect for Bea’s needs, and what wasn’t had been altered. Their parents had bought and refitted the house just a few years before their deaths.

Distinctive theme music from a popular television drama spilled out of the living room, alerting Elise to the presence of the others. She knew Josephine was there because her car was parked at the end of the sidewalk.

Both women looked up when Elise entered the room. The cat made the first move toward greeting, stirring her slightly pudgy body to get up, and then stretching her back into a high arch before starting a slow, regal walk toward the person who fed her. Tiny noises of pleasure sounded deep in her throat.

“It’s certainly about time,” Bea pronounced shortly. “We’d just about given you up for dead!”

Ignoring Bea’s remark, Josephine said, “You look exhausted. Were you able to finish?”

Elise crouched to stroke the cat, who was rubbing against her legs in an ecstatic show of goodwill. “Buttercup...hello. My goodness, did you miss me?” She laughed lightly when Buttercup purred a response. Scooping the cat into her arms, she straightened and answered Josephine’s question. “Yes, thank goodness. At least, with this part. Of course, tomorrow the insurance people will come and we’ll have to see about getting the ceiling repaired. Not to mention arranging things with the vacuum-chamber people and continuing to work with the books at the church. Then we have to do something with all the books that didn’t get damp but had to be moved anyway. They’re just stacked haphazardly about. Then...” Buttercup grew restless and twisted to be set free. Elise released her, then claimed a seat on the couch for herself.

“I’m sorry I asked,” Josephine murmured dryly, gazing at Elise with compassion.

“So that means tomorrow is going to be another repeat of today,” Bea said tightly, not showing any compassion. “You’ll be away again all day and half the night.”

“No, Bea,” Elise answered levelly. “Today was unusual because of the accident.”

“I was going to give you five more minutes and then go to bed,” Bea snapped. “If you want to stay out all night, well, that’s up to you. But there are those of us who have to sleep!”

“I’m home now, Bea,” Elise defended herself tiredly.

“I told you to go to bed, Bea,” Josephine said, taking up Elise’s cause. “I told you I’d brush your hair.”

“No.” Bea shook her head. “It’s the least Elise can do after being away each day for so long. And especially the way she abandoned me today.”

Elise closed her eyes. Right now she didn’t think she had strength left to lift the brush.

“Let me do it for you tonight,” Josephine urged. “Just this once.”

Bea gathered her possessions onto her lap, adjusting the wheelchair as needed. She collected her magazine, her sewing, her tissues, her wrap. “Elise can do as she wants,” she replied primly. “If she doesn’t want to brush my hair, she certainly doesn’t have to.” She then made a production of pushing herself across the room, making it seem difficult, hard to accomplish.

Elise started to get up but Josephine stopped her. “At least let me help you to your room, Bea. Elise is tired. She needs to rest.”

“I can take care of it myself!” Bea snapped. “I don’t need help from you!”

“Bea!” Elise protested.

Bea turned. She lifted her chin. Her body seemed delicate in the chair, but when she chose, her angry spirit could dominate even the most determined soul. “I can’t say it’s been nice, because it hasn’t. Today has been an absolute nightmare! Josephine, there’s no need for you to come over tomorrow. I’ll be fine. I can do without a meal or two. It won’t hurt me.”

“Bea!” Josephine chastised her in turn.

Bea threw their visitor a superior look before her eyes moved on to her sister. Once they were settled upon Elise, though, her expression became harder to define.

Tears of exhaustion sprang into Elise’s eyes. She had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling.

A tiny, satisfied smile feathered the side of Bea’s mouth. Then she turned away and rolled resolutely out of the room.

The television blared into a newsbreak but no one seemed to notice. At the closing click of Bea’s door, Josephine switched off the set. Silence permeated the room.

A moment later Elise said softly, “I suppose today has been difficult for her.”

Josephine’s jaw was tight. “I don’t see why. Between the two of us we’ve done everything we possibly could for her. She takes advantage of you, Elise, you know that. Anyone else would tell her to take her dictatorial ways and jump into the nearest—”

Elise sat forward, interrupting her. “Tomorrow really shouldn’t be as bad as today. There’ll be a lot to do, but at least I know what to expect. I can’t tell you how horrible it was this morning to look into that room and see that gigantic bubble hanging from the ceiling. Then to be standing almost under it when it broke!” Elise started to laugh, a release from tension. “I was grabbing books, trying to get them out of harm’s way, then, whoosh! We had our own indoor monsoon!”

“How did you get along with Professor Fairmont?” Josephine asked. “Does he think he can do anything to help with the new library?”

Elise’s laughter stopped. She had been successful in keeping the man out of her thoughts from shortly after she saw him leave late in the afternoon to this moment. She shrugged. “We didn’t really have time to talk. He’s coming back on Friday. We’ll discuss it then.”

Josephine nodded. “I told you before that he impressed me. I like the way he looks you straight in the eye and doesn’t bother to hide what he thinks. You know where you stand with someone like that. Not that he can’t charm the birds from the trees when he wants—you can see that at first glance, too. But there’s something underneath. A fine, strong character.”

Buttercup leaped gracefully onto the couch and started to purr as Elise absently stroked her silky head. “I felt like he could see too much,” she mused.

“What do you mean?” Josephine asked, frowning.

Elise shook her head, then was forced to cover a huge yawn.

Smiling good-naturedly, Josephine stood up. “The best favor you can do for yourself right now is get into bed and not worry about a thing. I’ve taken care of the kitchen. All the dishes are washed and put away. I also made some of Bea’s favorite breakfast rolls for tomorrow morning, so that should keep her happy, at least for a while.” Josephine took a moment to examine her friend closely. “It probably won’t do any good,” she said, “but I’m going to say it anyway. You’re taking too much onto yourself, Elise. Wearing yourself too thin. You can’t handle all the burdens of this town as well as those of your family. One person can carry only so much!”

Elise returned the woman’s gaze with tolerant amusement. “I’ll remember to give you the same speech the beginning of next semester when you’re single-handedly trying to drag the high school along in your wake. We’ve known each other for too long, Josephine.”

Josephine grimaced. “You’re probably right. Sometimes I think I’ll retire early. Go off on one of those world cruises, the kind that only single people can get a ticket on. Meet some nice man and settle down. Want to come along?”

“What? And shock everyone in Tyler? We’re going to keep doing what we’re doing forever, remember? Our lives can’t change. Town institutions don’t just get up and waltz away from their duties.”

Josephine located her purse. “Maybe one day we’ll surprise them all. The head of the library waltzes off, the head of the high school waltzes off....”

“I’ll just be happy to have the new library.”

Josephine nodded in resignation. “Me, too. One small step. Then maybe the school can build a new science lab. We’re not asking for that much, are we?”

Elise saw her friend to the door and gave her a warm hug. “Thanks for all you did today. At the library. Here.”

“Anytime. Well, no. I didn’t mean it that way. We certainly don’t want another accident.”

Elise waved as Josephine drove away, then she closed the door and secured it. The house was quiet when she turned. Quiet and somehow empty. Bea was in her room, waiting to have her hair brushed. The marmalade cat was fast asleep on the couch. Echoes of their parents still could be felt in the decor that had changed little since their deaths so many years before. Yet there were times when it just wasn’t enough.

Elise drew a soft breath, braced her weary shoulders and went to tap on Bea’s door. The call for entry came without hesitation.

Bea was sitting up in bed, the wheelchair off at an angle nearby. Elise moved it in order to get the brush out of the bedside table drawer. Bea had already taken her hair down, the long, pale threads her last remaining pride. Wordlessly, Elise perched on the edge of the mattress and began the ritual that ended each sister’s day.

As usual, Bea relaxed when the long strokes with the brush began, and as usual, Elise’s mind wandered. Tonight her thoughts flew to a certain time in the day when she had sat at her desk directly opposite a vital, attractive man, and he had placed his hand over hers and told her not to worry. And for a few enchanted seconds, she hadn’t worried. All her cares had lifted as she became lost in the certainty of his voice and the look in his unusual yellow-brown eyes.

Bea moved impatiently. “Have you gone to sleep?” she demanded. “You’ve stopped brushing!”

Elise immediately shook the memory away, glad that her sister couldn’t see the warm flush that had crept into her cheeks.

* * *

AMID THE FAMILIAR surroundings of his apartment in Milwaukee, Robert Fairmont sat at his drafting table and contemplated the set of blueprints for the Tyler library. He frowned in concentration as he moved from sheet to sheet and finally to the specifications at the end. It was a good job, nothing less than he expected from Fred Dupont—which was exactly what he’d decided after reviewing the project the day before. Fred had been a good student and now he was a good practicing architect in the firm with which Robert himself was affiliated. But Robert could see where civic pride and a good artist’s instincts had eventually led to a clash with today’s fiscal reality.

He checked the papers that constituted the history of the project. First contact with the firm had come nearly three years before, at a time when matching funds from state and federal sources were much easier for small towns like Tyler to access. As those sources dried up, any number of civic projects all over the state had been put on hold.

He returned to the specifications. Yes, it truly was a beautiful job. The library would have been a building all involved could be proud of. Only now it faced the same threats as had the courthouse in Johnstown Corners and the new administration building in Bennington Falls before he had found a way to save them. Could he help the people of Tyler in the same way?

He smiled slightly to himself. The simplest solution would be to lop off the top floor of the two-story Greek Revival structure, but he doubted that the chief librarian would sit still for that. And he couldn’t blame her. Space was so cramped in the building that presently housed the library. What would be the sense of constructing a new building that gave them very little additional room? The collection wouldn’t get wet, but that was about all he could promise.

Robert moved away from the drawing board to stand at the series of wide windows that overlooked Lake Michigan. Lights were starting to twinkle along the shore as the setting sun rapidly plunged the area into night. He leaned against the thick plate glass, his shoulder registering its solidness as well as its coolness as he hummed softly in accompaniment to the delicate strains of the Mozart piano concerto that reverberated throughout the apartment. There was no one to complain if he was slightly off-key or to protest that he hummed too loudly; no one to criticize his choice of music. His features relaxed into contentment. A short time later, when the movement drew to a close, he sighed, and with reluctance allowed his thoughts to return to the events of the day.

His time in Tyler had been far different from what he’d expected. He had planned to pass a couple of hours in consultation about the library, then be on his way back to Milwaukee, about an hour’s drive away. As it turned out, most of the day had been spent in hard physical labor! Row upon row of books had needed to be moved, shelves had to be taken down, the room where the leak had occurred had had to be emptied so that repairs could be made and all surfaces properly cleaned. There hadn’t been time to do much consulting—at least, not with the chief librarian. But he had been able to pick up on the feelings of a number of his fellow workers. It seemed that the old house that had served as Tyler’s library for the past forty years had reached the point of no return. Everyone agreed it was in terrible condition and might fall down at any given moment—an exaggeration, Robert knew, but one that expressed the townspeople’s feelings succinctly. All seemed to want the new library to be built, but no one had a good idea of how to replace the funding that had been lost. Their attempts to raise additional money had barely scratched the surface of what was needed, which made their frustration easy to understand. So, too, was the desperation of the librarian, who pretended to be calm and collected in the midst of disaster, but who in reality was in a near-explosive state of worry.