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Write-Off

Leah J. Salisbury

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© 2020 Leah J. Salisbury. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 12/19/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-3981-8 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-7283-3980-1 (e)

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Biographical Summary

Chapter 1

Write-Off: noun: An elimination of an item from the books of . verb: To eliminate an asset from books. Merriam-Webster Dictionary

I turned my car slowly into the driveway of Gregory Hill Academy, an old and prestigious girls’ boarding school in up-state Vermont I had always heard about and wondered who could afford to send their children there. Now it was my time to find out. But, far from being a student and even farther from being wealthy, I was a business teacher and certified management ant, and I was to be employed as the Academy’s new financial manager. The glorious golden and red tops of the maple trees blanketing Vermont’s green hills glittered against the solid deep blue of the warm September sky; in fact, the day was so warm, and so brilliant, that I had shut my air conditioner off somewhere down around Brattleboro, and drove the next hundred miles with the windows open and the wind blowing my hair. I pulled over now, not yet in sight of the school, before continuing up the winding, tree-lined driveway, to brush my shoulder-length hair back into place. I was a bit nervous: I wanted to make a good first impression. As I drove up to the school, I was glad I had purchased the new soft beige suit for this occasion. Hartford, Connecticut, where I was from, had some nice stores, and I had bought the suit because it was a flattering style, as well as a good match for my dark blond hair. I drew the line at trying to coordinate accessories, though, and my shoes were just my plain good brown pumps. As my Civic rounded the last corner of the steep drive, I saw the buildings for the first time, except for the brochure pictures which Jo-An Senecal, the heistress, had shown me during my interview in Wellesley, Massachusetts, where Gregory Hill’s board of directors held their monthly meetings.

The buildings and grounds before me were breathtaking. The architecture was neo-classical; the buildings were constructed of Vermont’s ubiquitous gray granite, dating back to the early 1900’s. The lawns were extremely well manicured and very spacious, extending down the drive to the gate where I had just entered. Spreading across before me, embracing five or six buildings in its velvet green quilt pattern, the lawn was now scattered with a few stray red or orange leaves. The flowerbeds of zinnias and ageratum lining the driveway were meticulously tended and weeded. There were several large clay urns of marigolds and red chrysanthemums placed appropriately on the imposing granite steps of what appeared to be the main building. I could not see any signs directing me to the istration building, but I assumed the building in front of me to be the one where I was to meet Jo-An. I recalled seeing only one sign at the main gate, a small, very plain green and white sign on a post about five feet high that read, “GREGORY HILL ACADEMY”. I pulled into one of five “Visitor” spaces, shut off my CD player, and shut off the engine. Poor old car, I thought. Almost 100,000 miles, and still struggling along. I looked at the other cars in the lot. About half of them were Subaru’s. Not a good sign: I’ll definitely need to get four-wheel drive if I’m going to live in Vermont. I took one last glance in the mirror, and got out of the car, taking my purse and briefcase with me, and leaving behind my boxes of stuff, luggage and plants. I hadn’t planned on moving to Vermont. In fact, my husband and I were content to live in Connecticut for the rest of our lives. However, Gene, who had a hectic schedule as a plant manager, traveling between three manufacturing sites almost weekly, had begun complaining of a strange weakness and numbness over the last several years. He attributed this to his diabetes, from which he had suffered for ten years, until one morning he couldn’t get a spoonful of oatmeal to his mouth; his hand dropped the spoon and he was left without any muscular control in his right arm. We immediately called his doctor, and after several weeks of tests, we learned he was in the early to middle stages of multiple sclerosis. The shock of this diagnosis numbed me. I don’t much about the next few days, except working with Gene to learn more about the disease and what we should do. We knew the illness could stabilize for periods of time, or gradually worsen. After two months of cutting back his schedule, and with very understanding bosses, Gene trained his replacement, and retired at the age of forty-eight. But the fear of what we would do in the event the MS worsened

lingered over us. Then, one day in early July, I received a call from my mother-in-law, Florence, who with Gene’s father, lived outside of Burlington, Vermont. Flo and Jack had offered to do anything they could when they’d learned of their oldest child’s illness. Flo was calling to say she had heard of a job possibility while she was at the beauty shop, an opening for a business manager at the Gregory Hill Academy, only seven miles outside of the town where they lived. I was presently the business manager for a school district outside of Hartford, and also teaching two classes in economics and business. I had been in this job for five years; prior to my becoming certified, I had been an ing manager for an international computer company, having worked for them since I graduated from college, twenty years ago. I had earned my graduate degree at nights, just before I met Gene. Gene had recently been widowed, and we were introduced through mutual friends. We hit it off from the start. Although Gene had grown up in Vermont, and I in Connecticut, the rule of fives was a constant source of amazement to us, as we continued to discover how many people we each knew, who knew someone the other one knew. Besides being totally compatible, we fell in love, and were married six months later. Flo was really excited about the job possibility at Gregory Hill. She said she didn’t know the whole story, except the current business manager had just resigned and moved out west somewhere, and why didn’t I apply for the job? I thought about it, and talked to Gene. His folks were almost seventy, but healthy and active. They had a large farmhouse on several acres. Jack had been a successful contractor, while Flo had been a cook at the University for many years after their six children were grown. Now they were offering to share their house with us and look after Gene, if I could land this job. I, too, picked up on her enthusiasm. Jack and Flo were wonderful people, and this position seemed like a godsend. I sent my resume, references and cover letter that night, addressing the letter and envelope generically to Heaster, Gregory Hill Academy, Gregory Hill, VT. After all, what did we have to lose? When I received a call from Jo-An Senecal, the heistress, three days later, I knew it sounded good. But she was perplexed, she had said. How could I have known there was a position open? The ment had only appeared in the Boston paper the day my resume arrived by mail. I told her my mother-in-law had heard about it locally, and Jo-An was thrilled that I had family in Vermont. The hardest part of recruitment and retention is the relocation and adjustment,

she had said. She sounded as if she’d had a lot of experience with this type of problem, and I asked her that. She had laughed, and said she’d fill me in when we met. We set an appointment for the following Monday, and I met her in Wellesley, Massachusetts, at eight a.m., a two-hour drive from my home in Connecticut. Jo-An was so excited during the interview, talking on about Gregory Hill and the challenges for a private school going into the next century. She said she had lived in Gregory Hill for the last two years, when she had been hired by the Board to bring the Academy out of the last century of thinking and technology and prepare it for major changes, not just in curriculum but in capital additions and building renovations. Jo-An was a dynamic person. I had never met anyone quite like her and felt a bit overpowered by her knowledge, education and background. We met for well over an hour, during which time Jo-An told me all about her experience before Gregory Hill at The Simpson School, a co-educational private day school in Virginia. She had been with Simpson five years, and wanted to pattern her successes at GHA after Virginia. Jo-An told me about how she had increased Simpson’s enrollment, revitalized its sinking endowment funds, worked on establishing diversity, among students and staff, for cultural and ethnic enrichment. She talked about her years at Oxford, England, where she had done graduate work, and her undergraduate years at Radcliffe. She was on the boards of a half dozen charitable organizations, most of which held meetings in Massachusetts and New Hampshire, so she was constantly traveling. “That’s why I need a good financial manager,” she had said, finally getting around to mentioning the position for which I was interviewing. “I need someone I can trust to run the office and to upgrade our computer system. I just don’t have the time to do it myself.” I looked at her and smiled. “You shouldn’t have to do it yourself. It appears you have quite enough projects going on without having to worry about the office work.” Suddenly her blue eyes turned icy cold. She stared right at me, all expression leaving her face. She replied, and it seemed she wasn’t answering me, but the room in general. “We’ll see.” Just as quickly, her eyes warmed, and she was present in the room again. “So, do you think this is the kind of position you’d be interested in?”

“Oh, yes! It definitely sounds like an exciting place and a real challenge,” I replied, slightly confused by the turn of the conversation. Jo-An just nodded and smiled. I continued, “But I have a few questions. How many staff do you have? And how many presently work in the office? May I see copies of the last two years’ financial statements and management letters? Are there any outstanding problems or issues needing urgent attention? And what kind of computer system are you using? I’d like to compare your standards with public schools. Some of the standards right now throughout the public school districts are…” Jo-An cut me off. “I’ll give you an organizational chart which will show you the staff positions. But we need to hurry. The Board is meeting this morning and I’ve asked them to meet you. Are you ready?” Jo-An stood up. This was all happening so fast. I knew my credentials were good, and I presented myself well on paper, but how could the Board meet so quickly? As if reading my mind, Jo-An said, “The Board meets the last Monday of each month. When I received your resume, and after I spoke with you, I emailed them each a copy. Or faxed, in several cases! I’ll tell you about that later! But we frequently meet here because this is where the Board President has his office.” We were walking down the hall, and I was struggling to keep up with Jo-An’s long stride. Even though we were about the same height, she was stockier and more broad-shouldered, and walked with a determined, no-nonsense stride, much as she spoke. I noticed a ladies’ room. “Excuse me, but do I have time to stop in here for a minute?” Jo-An impatiently looked at her watch. “Well, ok.” She hesitated. “Maybe I’ll use it, too.” As we were washing our hands, Jo-An asked, “So, where did you say your friends lived? In Gregory Hill?” I was glad to make small talk. “My in-laws,” I politely reminded her. “My husband has had to retire because of illness and we heard about this position through them. They live in Dayville.” I was going to ask what happened to my predecessor, when Jo-An interrupted. “How wonderful! That’s right, you did mention something. We have a terrible problem with staff adjusting to the climate and the isolation. It’s wonderful to know you won’t have that problem.” We hurried down to the conference room. The Board was wonderful: twelve very professional and astute individuals from

every field imaginable; educators, doctors, investors. We talked for over an hour. I was impressed, and I guess they were with me, because that evening, Jo-An called, offered me the job at a better salary than I was making, and asked when I could start. We agreed on September first; but I said I still had questions. For instance, why was there an opening? How many staff are there? May I see the auditors’ statements? Jo-An laughed, and said, “All right. First, Kevin, the business manager before you, had to leave in July to move back to California to care for his aging mother. Secondly, we have twenty staff , twelve of whom are teachers. Our student/teacher ratio is quite good, as our enrollment is now three hundred eighty students for grades nine through twelve. Oh, and we prefer to call our teachers “mentors” so please try to use that term as much as possible. I’ll mail you a brief orientation package with the staff names, the first semester schedule, and some ideas I had for what you could start working on. We can talk more when you arrive. And, I was wondering, would you consider teaching a couple of courses yourself? We’re excited to have someone with your computer experience. We need to upgrade our Internet access, sophisticate our email, replace the server, do all that stuff. We want to eliminate the computer lab, as all the students have laptops of course, and I can use that space for something else. Right now we have a couple of old PC’s sitting in there. Is this all right with you?” I had agreed, in a daze at how quickly this had all happened, and not fully aware that Jo-An had not answered all my questions. So now, as I entered the front door of the main building, I eagerly awaited my first day on the job. Little did I know what awaited me beyond those granite walls.

Chapter 2

Inside the front door, in a huge arched foyer of dark mahogany ing, was a beautifully appointed sitting area to the left and a reception desk to the right. The desk was of Queen Anne design; and partially concealed behind a wall to the left of the desk was a switchboard monitor. A pleasant-looking, sixty-ish woman, with short, gray hair, wearing a print dress and navy blazer, was seated behind the desk. She greeted me with a friendly, “May I help you?” The nameplate on her desk said Winifred Grant. I replied, “Yes, I’m here to see Jo-An Senecal. I’m Claire Phillips.” Winifred stood up, a big smile on her face. “Oh, Claire, how do you do! We are so glad you are here. What a pleasure to meet you!” She extended her hand across the desk, but before I had a chance to take it, Jo-An Senecal burst around the corner. “Claire! And on time! You must have stayed with your family last night?” I could only smile my reply to Winifred, who had politely resumed her seat, while Jo-An had steered me away from the desk, and into the sitting room. “No, I drove straight up from Hartford. I left about five a.m. I’ll stay up here during the week and go home on weekends until we sell the house. My sister is looking in on my husband until he can…” Jo-An laughed. “Five? I was already here working, and then I had a meeting in Burlington. I just got back here myself.” She paused for breath, and put her hand on my shoulder. “Come on - I’ll introduce you to the staff, and the people who’ll work for you, and then show you around. Classes start next week, but we’re already fully staffed.” By this time, we were walking down the main corridor, stopping to ire the paintings and statues lining the walls. Jo-An was obviously very proud of the school’s collection of artwork, and was describing in detail the various donors of the paintings and the net worth of the collection. She had already explained to me during the interview in Wellesley that one of my first projects would be to set up a computerized fixed asset ledger. These items, the paintings and artwork, were all part of the school’s assets, and I was truly impressed.

I had the chance to really look at Jo-An as we stood in front of Ethan Allen’s portrait, one of many historical figures from Vermont’s history. She had switched the conversation in mid-sentence and was talking on about how excited everyone was about my coming, and how I could decorate my office any way I wanted, but how she had already decided the carpet in that office was the wrong color so she’d had it replaced, and how Roland, the plant superintendent, had just painted the walls a few weeks ago, a lighter color. She never took a breath between sentences. I watched her as she spoke. Jo-An was probably in her late thirties. She was wearing a baby blue boucle knit jacket that seemed far too warm for the day and about one size too small. Under it, she had on a rounded collar, Peter-Pan type blouse, a style I hadn’t seen since my high school days, and a navy blue wrap skirt, mid-calf length, with a pair of brown penny loafers on her feet. I noticed her ankles were fat and puffy. Her straight brown hair was cut short, and to keep a piece of hair from falling into her face, she had it clipped to one side with a tiny barrette. She seemed heavier than when I met her a month ago. In the hall, we ran into two mentors. “Claire, I’d like you to meet Cindy Berthiaume and Laura Thomas. Cindy is our guidance director and teaches sociology and psychology. Laura is our phys-ed director and coach for intramural sports. Gregory Hill has an exceptional record in field hockey and basketball.” Both women smiled warmly, and we shook hands. “We’ll see you at nine!” Jo-An called after them, as we continued down the hall. Just a few feet from Ethan Allen was the entrance to the office area. There were three offices lining the outside walls, with a central area containing a copier, fax, and worktable. This space opened to Winifred’s back, where the receptionist was busily typing little white labels on an old green electric typewriter. Jo-An’s office was the middle one, whose door was open. I could see the sign “Heistress” on a small plaque on her door. She unlocked the door to the first one, containing only a sign “Office.” “What do you think?” she asked, standing aside so I could look in. The office was beautiful. It was probably fifteen feet square, but the opposite end was all windows, the old-fashioned kind that went clear to the ceiling and actually opened up for fresh air. Jo-An was right, the paint was new, shiny and with that faint, lingering turpentine smell. And the light peach color contrasted nicely with the beige carpet. There was a new valance of beige, teal and peach.

As I walked closer to ire the gorgeous view of the distant mountains, I noticed there were two sets of old pull shades hiding under the valance. I assumed, from the financials and budget copy Jo-An had sent me, that there wasn’t enough money to spend on new blinds. However, I was very pleased with the overall effect, and turned to compliment Jo-An. “This is wonderful! You did such a nice job. Thank you very much. You know, I’ve never had such a lovely office in my life! And the view - it’s fabulous.” Jo-An smiled. “I’m glad you like it. But it needed paint anyway. There were a lot of holes in the wall from when Kevin was here. I spent one whole night patching and repairing the walls after he left. We don’t encourage you to hang things on the walls. If you want a bulletin board, let me know. I’ll get you one. And I’ll put it up. I can’t trust maintenance to do anything right or on time. Now, if you’d like to leave your things here, I’ll introduce you to some more people. At nine I’ve asked the staff to meet in the conference room for a coffee and bagel welcome.” I was really impressed and so moved by this last statement, about being welcomed, that the comment about Kevin’s making holes in the wall hadn’t sunk in. As we had a couple of minutes, Jo-An took me to the third office, on the other side of her own, and about the same size as mine. It was cluttered with file cabinets and boxes of papers. “Lydia, this is Claire.” Jo-An introduced me to the bookkeeper/payroll clerk and then abruptly turned and began shuffling through papers on top of a file cabinet. As I approached Lydia’s desk, Jo-An interrupted. “Lydia, now that Claire is here, maybe you can find the time to catch up on some of this filing. It’s really a mess.” She said it as a statement, without any real emotion, but I could see Lydia’s embarrassment at being rebuked in front of me. After all, I was her new boss. I had to say something to put her at ease. Jo-An was flitting around the office, picking up invoices, eating some potato chips from a rolled up, half-eaten bag she found on the cabinet. “Well, Lydia, I’m very happy to meet you. Do you think you’d have time later today to sit down and tell me what you do and how things work?” I smiled at her. Lydia smiled back, looking relieved. “As soon as I get payroll done, maybe by two-three o’clock, if that’s all right?”

“That would be fine. Why don’t you come find me when you’re ready.” I turned to Jo-An. “Do you have anything specific planned for me today? Any meetings? Introductions?” “No, I thought the nine A.M. session would take the place of our weekly department head meeting, which is always Tuesday morning at ten. You just get adjusted and settled in. I’ll leave some folders on your desk to go through, as I begin to sort out the mess in my office. Kevin left things so unfinished.” Jo-An abruptly walked out the door, tossing the now-empty potato chip bag into the wastebasket. “Come on, it’s time for bagels.” Lydia looked at me, smiled wryly, and led me to the conference room. The conference room was just across the hall from our offices, and was a fairly large room. The focal point was the giant mahogany table, extending from the end nearest the door to the windows at the far end. There were about twenty high-backed upholstered armchairs placed formally around the table. Four or five staff had already arrived. I recognized Cindy and Laura, and moved over to say hello. They offered me coffee, and we talked the usual small talk as our shyness wore off. Within a few minutes, there were twelve staff in the room. Jo-An’s voice cut into the chatter. “Everyone - may I have your attention for just a minute. We’d like to welcome Claire Phillips to Gregory Hill. As I’ve told most of you already, Claire has a great background in computers and business and is going to be a wonderful asset for us, as well as for me. Maybe now I’ll be able to get caught up or even take a day off!” Jo-An reached across the table for a piece of spinach bagel someone had left on the platter, and popped it into her mouth. Laura, standing next to me, whispered under her breath, “Yeah, right. She’s been here two years and she’s yet to take even one day off.” I looked at Laura in surprise. She continued, in a whisper. “Stop by my office later. I’ll fill you in.” At that moment, Roland Gilbert stepped forward to introduce himself. He was probably the tallest man I’d ever met in my life, and large, too, but not fat. Roland must have stood at least six feet five inches, and he reminded me of Little John in Robin Hood, or even the Jolly Green Giant. Although Roland had a full gray beard, and looked very imposing and intimidating, he had twinkling,

kind eyes. We shook hands, and I liked him immediately. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roland. And your job is..?” I was fairly sure, from the way he was dressed, in work pants and a red plaid, short-sleeved shirt, that he was the maintenance supervisor Jo-An had mentioned. “I’m in charge of plant services. The grounds, security, mechanical, whatever. I’d be glad to show you around, anytime.” Before he could say more, Jo-An had worked her way to his side, and between bites of a sesame bagel, asked Roland a question. “Roland, do you think you could dig out the blueprints and schematics of the heating system and boiler sometime today? We need to go over the capital budget in the next few weeks, and I was wondering if this would be a good time to get bids on re-doing the entire HVAC system?” “Sure, Jo-An. I’ll bring them over. After lunch ok?” “Fine. Bring them in here. We can work better at this table.” Jo-An turned to me. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the staff.” I followed her around the room, to where a short, chubby man in his forties was talking to two women. “Edgar, this is Claire. Claire, Edgar Rousseau, our dining services manager, and a great chef, too!” I’m sure Jo-An is a good judge of food, I thought to myself. I shook hands with Edgar, who also seemed to be pleasant and easy-going, much like Roland. Edgar, however, seemed less sure of himself, and looked frequently at Jo-An, letting her take the conversational lead. Jo-An introduced the two women with him. “And Claire, this is Sherry Fielding, our music teacher, and Francine Jablonski, our art director and history teacher.” While Sherry asked me the usual questions about settling in, and moving up here, I couldn’t help let my mind wander. I studied Sherry’s face as she talked. She was a tall brunette, with very fair, freckled skin. She had long, tapered fingers, and I wondered what instruments she played. I reminded myself to try to find her later, as I played guitar, and was interested in taking some private lessons. I was mediocre at best, and this seemed like a good opportunity for some self-development.

Francine spoke up. “If you’d like to see our art department, I’d love to give you a tour. We have a spring art festival each year, featuring the students’ work, but I was thinking of expanding it this year to include staff. Do you paint?” Francine had short, curly black hair, and very pale, ivory skin. She was also petite, and extremely energetic, in her speech and body language. I could picture her in Italy, sculpting, alongside a canal. Before I could answer, or ask either of them any questions, Jo-An interrupted everyone. “May I have your attention? Thank you all for coming to welcome Claire. I have to run, as there are some things I must do this morning. Edgar, thanks for cleaning up here.” She grabbed two bagels, wrapping them in a napkin, and ran out the door. I introduced myself to the remaining staff: George Rossi, who taught Science, and who had been standing in a corner by himself, drinking coffee and staring at me throughout the whole meeting; Howard Coes, Math, who was very funny and did Groucho Marx impressions as we shook hands; and Marilyn Cookson, English and Theater Arts, who was about my age, but very formal and lady-like. The rest of the day went by fairly quickly. I sorted through piles of papers; Jo-An flew in and out of my office several times with more stacks of folders, laughing, and saying, “Here are some more. I was keeping them in my office trying to make sense out of all that financial business, but now that you’re here, I’ll give them all back to you!” I also went through the computer set-up and familiarized myself with the databases and software set-ups. There were some differences between what I’d had in Hartford and here, but nothing I couldn’t work with. I made notes of what I felt needed changing, or would be an enhancement, but decided to discuss my findings at next week’s staff meeting before I did anything. One thing I’d learned over the years was to never work in a vacuum, and I always tried to communicate my plans with my bosses and peers for added input. I didn’t even realize it was 5:30, when Lydia poked her head in the door to say goodnight. I wished her the same, and asked if first thing in the morning would be a good time to talk and go over the business office policies. I had obviously lost track of the time today, and I apologized, although I ed that I had asked Lydia to come see me. Lydia smiled, and said fine; she’d bring the coffee. Within ten minutes, I had straightened up my desk and was out the door myself. I looked around to say goodnight to Jo-An, but she was nowhere in sight.

I had taken a few minutes after the morning staff meeting to unload my car, and my plants looked very much at home on the spacious windowsill. I reminded myself to ask Roland to hang the little plaque my co-workers in Hartford had given me as a parting gift:

“Old ants Don’t Die - They Just Get Written Off.”

I loved how we laughed when I had opened that gift at my going away party. However, my luggage and garment bags were all that remained in the car, and I set off for Dayville, a pleasant summer’s evening ride over two good-sized hills and a valley. The trip to Flo and Jack’s was only fifteen minutes but, I wondered, what it would be like in two feet of snow, or even an ice storm. As I drove into my in-laws’ driveway, I noticed Flo weeding her vegetable garden. I blew my horn, and she turned and waved, dropping her hoe and hurrying over to my car. I could see a large wicker basket of fresh tomatoes and yellow summer squash on the lawn. I jumped out of the car and gave her a big hug. It had been Christmas since we’d seen them last. My in-laws were very warm, down-to-earth people. “My, my, don’t you look nice!” Flo exclaimed. “Every time we see you, you’re never dressed up like this! You’re always in jeans. That’s a really nice suit.” She gently fingered the soft rayon linen blend. “Thanks, Flo. You’re right. We’re always in our bummy clothes when we’re on vacation. As a matter-of-fact, I can’t wait to get into them right now!” We both laughed, and I followed Flo into the house. The Phillips’ house was a good-sized, Cape-style farmhouse with two large bedrooms and bath downstairs and three additional bedrooms and a bath upstairs. There had been six children - four girls sandwiched in age between Gene and the younger brother John, who had died of cancer at the age of twenty. Flo and Jack had always had the large downstairs bedroom, with the youngest child in the room next to theirs. When John had turned ten, Gene once told me, he decided to move upstairs with his older brother. At this point, the downstairs room became a guest room. Gene and I had our choice of taking the entire second floor, and installing an escalator-type lift on the stairway for Gene, or

taking the two downstairs rooms. We decided on the second floor, primarily because it gave us three rooms to move our furniture into. But it also would give us the feeling of a separate apartment, and we wouldn’t be displacing Gene’s parents. I went upstairs to change into shorts and t-shirt. Over the years, Gene’s sisters had taken most of the furniture from their rooms for their own growing families. In the large, south-facing room we had agreed would be our bedroom, and which had been Meredith and Anne’s room, there remained only a twin bed that one of the girls had obviously tried to paint white or pink in her younger years. We certainly won’t break any sentimental hearts when we add this to Flo’s October yard sale, I thought as I changed. Because we hadn’t yet sold the house in Hartford, Flo and I figured we could start painting and papering at our leisure. This would give me time to move things here bit by bit. Before I left home, Gene and I had sorted through our belongings, creating a huge pile in the garage for our own yard sale, scheduled in three weeks. I was planning on going home for that weekend, and driving back in a friend’s van I was borrowing for the week. As long as Gene was feeling okay, and could move around easily, I felt comfortable with his packing and cleaning in Connecticut while Flo and I painted here. I sighed, thinking of all the work ahead of us, the changes in our lives, and Gene’s health, as I went downstairs to tell Flo about my first day at the Academy. The following morning I arrived at school at seven a.m. Flo and I had been up since dawn, walking through her dew-laden gardens as the late summer sun struggled to break through the mountain-valley fogs. Summers in Vermont were glorious, as I recalled from the mini-vacations Gene and I had spent here over the years. Because winter and mud season lasted a good six months, true Vermonters never took for granted the opportunity to linger in the wet early morning grass, stomping puff balls, iring the perseverance of the cabbage moths fluttering over the garden, and watching the mist dissipate into streaks of sunlight bursting from fog banks. Flo carried a gasoline-filled can into which we dropped errant Japanese beetles, her organic alternative to using pesticides in the garden. We had picked a bouquet of gorgeous flowers for my office as we continued our talk from the night before. I finally had to break away from this idyllic setting and get to work. I hugged her goodbye, promising to be home by five.

When I arrived at work, I spent some time digging through the locked files in my office. I had just located the auditors’ management letter and Lydia’s performance evaluation from the past year when Laura poked her head in the doorway. “Wow! This place looks really nice. Your plants really liven it up a lot. And those flowers are great!” Laura was about forty, with a round, smiling face. She motioned towards the vase of zinnias. “Good morning, Laura. And thank you! I think Roland did a very good job painting, too. How are you this morning?” Laura replied, “Oh, I’m fine. You didn’t stop in to see me yesterday.” “I’m sorry. I got so busy the time just flew by.” “I know. I’m only teasing. If you’d like to take a walk, I can show you around a little. Or is Jo-An going to?” I detected a slight sarcastic tone to her voice as she emphasized the word “Jo-An.” I pretended not to notice. “Well, we were supposed to yesterday. After lunch, Jo-An started to show me the dorms and classrooms, but she got paged for a call and we never finished.” “Come on, then. I’ll show you where the mentors’ offices are, and some other important places. I assume you’ve found the bathrooms by now. We can get coffee, too.” She laughed, seeming pleased to have the opportunity to be my guide. “Oh! I promised Lydia I’d have coffee with her this morning.” I suddenly ed my appointment, and made a mental note to update my cell phone calendar more often. It looked like I could be a busy person here. “That’s ok. She doesn’t come in until 8:30. We’ll be back in time.” As we walked down the hall together, Laura chirped on about her husband, two teenagers, and trying to adjust her fall schedule to fit her transportation problems, since her family had one car and four directions to travel each day. We had reached the back hallway of the H-shaped building. “All the mentors’ offices are in this building,” she explained. “Except for Roland, who’s over in the maintenance building, and Edgar, the dining services manager, who’s on the first floor of the Commons. The bookstore is there, too. Did Jo-An tell you that you and Lydia are responsible for running the

bookstore?” Laura tried to sound nonchalant, but I sensed from her voice she was fishing for something. “Not exactly,” I replied, pretending to examine the large map of Vermont on the wall. Jo-An hadn’t mentioned the bookstore, and I was taken by surprise just a bit to hear about my job responsibilities from someone else. “But it would seem logical that the store would be under Finance. I’m flexible.” I laughed, and we went out the back door and across the lawn towards plant services. Laura continued. “Well, I hope it works out better for you than it did with Kevin. He wasn’t flexible, at least not where Jo-An was concerned. They fought like cats and dogs over the bookstore issues, and everything else, for that matter.” Laura’s comments had totally caught my attention, and I was ready to jump in with a dozen questions, when suddenly a beautiful Shetland sheep dog came bounding towards us. “Oh, a dog!” I cried. “Whose is it?” The dog was now romping in circles around Laura and me, very excited at acknowledging Laura and very curious about me. “This is Heidi. She belongs to Roland, but she lives here mostly. Roland had her mother for fourteen years. Heidi’s seven, and has had two litters of her own. Several of her puppies live with local families, and Roland has a two year old at home he’s been working with for shows. He works with a breeder in Burlington in his spare time. Roland has been with the Academy for thirty years, and is going to retire next spring. If you need to know anything, ask him. After Jo-An, that is.” Laura seemed to delight in adding that bit of information. And that comment brought me back to my original questions. “Laura, why did Kevin leave? This is such a lovely place! I can’t imagine anyone not being able to enjoy working here and making a success out of it.” I knelt down to pat Heidi, who had rolled over on her back, begging me to scratch her tummy. “Jo-An and Kevin just didn’t get along. It was a constant power struggle. They argued over things like what color bookmarks to sell in the store to how to format the budget in Excel. They fed off each other. Ellen actually got an ulcer listening to it.” Ellen Saunders was the school nurse. I had met her briefly yesterday, and though she was a nervous, thin woman in her mid-thirties, she was very also pretty and listened attentively to whatever anyone was saying.

It was only about 7:45, but suddenly we heard a door slam. We looked up from petting Heidi and saw Jo-An running down the steps from the istration building. I could feel Laura tense up as Jo-An trotted towards us. “Laura, do you have the varsity schedule done for me yet? I need it first thing this morning.” JoAn didn’t even look at me or offer a good morning. “It’s almost done. I have only to add the sections we talked about yester…” Jo-An cut her off. “Well, then, do it. I’d like it by 8.” She turned to me, suddenly warm and friendly, as Laura hurried off, Heidi at her heels. “So, how was your first night in Vermont? Were your cousins glad to see you? No, wait! Your husband’s family, isn’t it?” She smiled, obviously pleased with herself for getting the facts straight. “Yes, I did, and they were. Gene’s parents…” But Jo-An had turned away. “Would you like to see the kitchen and dining area? We have the best food of any private school in the Northeast. At the end of each semester, we ask each student to complete a questionnaire about the food, their rooms, the classes, and their mentors. I’ll show you last year’s surveys when we get back. They’re interesting, especially where we’re catering to a broad mix of students. We have a small percentage of dietary preferences. We have two girls from India, and they’re vegetarian. When they started here last year, about half the freshman class thought it would be cool to be vegetarian, too, but we had to put our foot down. One meal, we served lentils and yogurt for the vegetarians, and that just about ended it. All the others have gone back to the traditional menu now, with only a few opting for the vegetarian menu.” She eyed me suspiciously. “You don’t have any strange ideas about food or personal preferences, do you?” I laughed. “Absolutely not. I’m a meat and potatoes person. In fact, if Gene hadn’t gotten ill, we would have liked to raise buffalo. We have some friends in Massachusetts with a large herd, and we thought bison might do well in Vermont.” Jo-An replied, laughing. “Now that would get the locals riled up. You’d have to check the local ordinances to make sure you could have anything but cows and pigs. Vermonters are funny people, as I’m sure you’ll find out. Oh - that’s right, you have relatives here. Then you know already.” She actually seemed to delight

in being rude, and I wasn’t sure if I should challenge her on these comments, but decided against it. I had never met, or worked, with anyone like her and was taken by surprise by her brusqueness. My previous boss and co-workers had been even-tempered, socially adept people who would have been committing professional suicide to behave like Jo-An. We toured the commons. The large, rectangular building next to istration contained the entire facilities central to the students’ needs and activities, including kitchen, dining rooms, bookstore, and health office. Jo-An showed me Ellen’s office, and explained that Ellen usually came in between ten and noon, but stayed late in the evening. There were two large dining rooms; one for freshmen/sophomores, the second for upper classwomen. Jo-An was emphatic about correctly naming the grades. “We all try to refer to our students as women. They are not girls any longer if they are old enough to go away to school. We have roughly eighty to a hundred students in each grade, so we’re talking close to four hundred students. It is our responsibility, no matter what our individual job is, to take care of, and nurture, each student, no matter what the problem or the time of day. There could be times when you may have to work late. Last winter we had a stomach bug problem for about a week, and anyone who wasn’t sick was in here, cooking meals, doing whatever. We cancelled classes for three days. But it could be anything. We never close because of weather, since the students, except for about thirty who commute from Burlington or nearby towns, are right here. Staff are expected to get in any way they can, so plan for the weather. Snow and ice is a fact of life in northern Vermont, so there are no excuses.” I got the message. But I also had some questions. “Jo-An, do you have a fall schedule of classes? You asked if I would teach a couple of courses, and we need to go over the curriculum. And, do you have a job outline? At least some rough guideline I can follow. I’m flexible enough to adapt to whatever you need, but I don’t want to overlook something I should be doing.” “Don’t worry about that,” Jo-An laughed. “But, I don’t have any job descriptions done at the present. That was one of the things you heard me mention yesterday at the staff meeting. Maybe now I’ll have the time to work on them. As far as the classes go, I’ll give you the fall schedule when we get back to the office. I’d like you to take the computer lab as it exists right now. That’s about three hours a

day, plus any extra time students might need. And then, I was hoping you’d teach an introduction to business. Cover economics, ing, whatever. Besides all the liberal arts and required courses we need for accreditation, we like to offer some practical, vocational courses.” “But, Jo-An, computer science and business courses are no longer vocational courses. They are an integral part of day-to-day living that all students, male or female, should take. In fact, have you thought of making at least the computer science course a required course for graduation?” I recalled Jo-An’s conversation with me in Wellesley about bringing the school into the next century, and was about to remind her of it. Jo-An turned to me, her face turning bright red and her eyes glassy. “I decide what courses are required, even offered, here at Gregory Hill. And right now, there’s no need to change the graduating requirements.” “I just thought this might be a good objective for the future.” I sounded a bit apologetic, noticing how flustered and upset she was. Jo-An changed the subject. “I have to run over to plant services and see Roland. Can you find your way back?” Without waiting for my reply, she trotted off towards the building with the large brick smokestack. Perplexed, I shook my head and hurried back to my office. It was almost eight thirty. Lydia was just entering her office. The door was unlocked and the light already on. I greeted her. “Good morning, Lydia. How are you today?” She turned and smiled. “Good morning to you. I’m just fine. Why don’t I just put this stuff away, get our coffee and I’ll be right in?” She looked at me, and I nodded. When Lydia had settled herself in the guest chair facing my desk, I asked her about her office. “I hope you don’t mind my asking this, but how come you don’t lock your door at night? With payroll records and all, I mean.” Lydia looked uncomfortable, but very politely replied. “I do lock it, every night. But it’s always open when I get in in the morning. Jo-An unlocks it, maybe to go look for something. Sometimes it’s unlocked even if she isn’t in first, because she went in the previous night after I left and forgot to lock it.”

I felt awful for falsely accusing Lydia. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I should not have assumed that, and I will always ask you first for your opinion before I draw a conclusion. But doesn’t she realize those aren’t good ing controls, or even from an insurance perspective, that we aren’t carrying out our fiduciary responsibility as managers?” “I personally don’t think Jo-An thinks of those things, Claire. Only when it becomes a problem.” I sighed. I was a pro-active manager, setting up controls and procedures to prevent problems. Jo-An was obviously a fire fighter. “Tell me, Lydia, how long have you been at Gregory Hill?” I took a sip of the coffee Lydia had brought me. My first cup from Laura was already cold. “Well, I started here six years ago, when my daughter was a junior. We live in Essex Jct., and Sandy had wanted to go to Gregory Hill Academy since grade school. I was a bookkeeper for a small company in Burlington, and when this position opened up, I applied for it. That was when Mr. O’Connor was the heaster. Getting the job here was great in three ways. It solved our transportation problems, because my husband would alternate days dropping her and a classmate off here on his way to Montpelier; it was more money for me to take this job; and children of staff can attend here for nothing. Plus, Mr. O’Connor was a joy to work for.” I appreciated the history and asked more questions. “What happened to Mr. O’Connor?” “He retired. He’d been here forever. He and Roland started here about the same time. Roland is due to retire soon. He built a nice little house back in the fifties about a half a mile down the road east from the front gate. Raised a family, and pretty much ran this place with Bob, I mean Mr. O’Connor.” “Did O’Connor leave the area?” “He moved to Georgia to be with a sister. The house he lived in, at the edge of the property facing the Commons, is owned by the Academy. It’s a fairly goodsized house. I’ve never been in it. Bob never had parties, and I don’t think anyone except the movers were ever inside in forty years. By the way, Jo-An lives in the house now. With her mother. The house is part of the salary deal, as though she didn’t make enough already.” Lydia made a face, and then continued,

professional once again. “Perhaps you’d like to go through the ing records later? Read through the payroll s, get to know the employee names?” I laughed. “And any other bits of information, like salaries, that happen to jump out at me? By the way, you said that Jo-An lives with her mother. She’s not married?” “No,” Lydia replied, “and I don’t think ever has been. We haven’t met her mother, either, but Jo-An tells us how she’s very frail, and weak. She has a lot of dietary problems, and is very thin and sickly, from what I’ve overheard. But Mrs. Senecal has her mental faculties together, I guess. Jo-An is always bringing her books from the library, and the woman is a Jeopardy whiz. Winifred, bless her, collects crossword puzzles from different newspapers and sends them home with Jo-An. Well, Winifred doesn’t do it on her own. It’s just another one of the tasks Jo-An has assigned Winifred. You haven’t had a chance to talk with Winifred yet, have you? She’s a wonderful receptionist and a nice lady. A real lifesaver for all of us. She watches out for us, and well, let’s us know when the coast is clear, if you get my drift.” I ignored the last part of Lydia’s comment, not wanting to show my growing awareness of an apparent widespread dislike for Jo-An. “Not yet, but I think I will today.” I was more than a little curious about what Lydia had told me concerning Jo-An, and anxious to learn more, but discreetly. Suddenly we heard Jo-An racing into the office area. Winifred’s starting time was nine o’clock and she had just arrived. “Winifred!” Jo-An was yelling. “Where is that list of early arrival students I asked you to copy for me?” “I was just about to do it, Jo-An. I didn’t know you needed it this morning.” “Why didn’t you ask me that when I gave you the request? Don’t you know the first thing about being a secretary? We have freshman here you have more common sense than you do, Winifred. I seriously wonder where your mind is most of the time. Now, give me that list. I’ll just have to copy it myself.” We could hear a rustle of papers. From my doorway, I could see Jo-An standing at the copier. From her profile,

she was red-faced and rather sweaty-looking. She turned and smiled at us. “Good morning, ladies! You two are hard at work already! Claire, if you have a few minutes later, I’d like to show you the classrooms and dorms, and introduce you to some of the students who have been here for summer school. As a matter of fact, why don’t we plan on eating lunch in the Commons? That way, you can see how the operation runs, just in case we’re ever short staffed and you have to fill in.” She laughed, and went flying out of the office. We could hear her footsteps far down the hall. “Lydia, Jo-An warned me yesterday about filling in in case of emergency. Do you really have them?” “Oh, yes. Last winter’s flu was pretty bad. We were all here helping. I didn’t go home for four days. I also didn’t want to expose my family. But regardless of how hard we all worked, none of us could compare to Jo-An. I don’t think she ever slept, nor slowed down. She cooked, she served meals, she did laundry. She was everywhere. And of course, none of us did anything right.” Lydia whispered the last sentence, and looked over her shoulder. Just then, Cindy Berthiaume came in to use the copier. Lydia continued, softly, nodding over her shoulder in Cindy’s direction. “Be careful of that one. Very close, if you know what I mean.” Then, in her normal voice, Lydia changed the subject. “So, I will be putting together the student statements later today, if you’d like to go over the process with me.” She stood up to leave. “Thank you, Lydia. After lunch ok? I’ll be in.” When Lydia had returned to her office, and Cindy had finished with the copier, I went out to see Winifred. I was concerned about how she had taken such a public reprimand, especially when staff, students or even families might have been in the foyer. “Are you ok, Winifred?” I looked down at the receptionist, hunched over her desk, cutting pieces of paper into 3x5 squares. She didn’t answer. I tried a different subject. “What are you making?” She looked up, and I could see her eyes were red around the edges and a little puffy. But she managed a smile, and with a tinge of sarcasm, not meant for me,

she replied, “Just doing one of my many tasks. Making scrap paper.” “What?” I was a little surprised. Winifred sighed. “Jo-An keeps a large box in her office where we’re supposed to put any odds and ends of paper. She hasn’t told you yet? Heaven forbid if she catches you throwing good paper in the wastebasket! She had Kevin do a study last spring comparing the cost of purchasing scratch pads and sticky notes to the return on recycled paper. The recycling income was peanuts, so she decided we could more than offset the costs of buying useless pads of paper by making our own. So that became part of my job. I have four standard sizes, of so many pages each. Here, she wrote a policy and procedure for me.” Winifred handed me a typed, two-page document outlining the rules and steps to be followed in making scrap paper pads. I shook my head. “Was this the outcome of Kevin’s study?” “Sort of, except that Jo-An had written this long before Kevin finished his analysis. Kevin was totally against it. He said that my time could be better spent on more productive tasks, but Jo-An wouldn’t listen. They had a huge fight for days over this.” “Winifred, I’d like to talk to you some more about your job. What would be a good time when you can get away from the desk?” I really was more nervous about talking in so public a place as Winifred’s desk, and getting caught by JoAn. Winifred replied. “Well, I’m done by two. Then Sarah, one of the students, comes on until supper. But I have a ride waiting for me, so it couldn’t be today. I could arrange to be picked up at two-thirty tomorrow, though, and maybe Sarah could start early. I’ll ask her today.” “Sounds good, Winifred. I’ll leave it up to you. And, say, you’re doing a great job with the scrap paper.” She looked up at me and her face relaxed. She laughed, and it was good to know I had an ally in the front office. The following day, Winifred met with me at one-thirty. She closed my door and sank into the guest chair across from my desk. “How are you doing today, Winifred? I really didn’t know what to do or say

yesterday when Jo-An was yelling, and I apologize. Can you give me some idea of what I should have done? Jo-An’s behavior sort of took me by surprise. I’ve never worked with anyone quite like her.” I felt bad for Winifred, but I didn’t want to appear over-protective. Winifred touched the multi-colored, striped zinnias I had arranged in a large vase on my desk and smiled. “I’m doing ok. And there’s really nothing you can do or say when Jo-An has an “episode,” as I call it. What we’re grateful for is your being here. You just don’t know how grateful we are.” Winifred leaned back in her chair and let out a big sigh. “What do you mean? How is my being here going to help? Has Jo-An always been like this? Please, Winifred, what is the problem?” “The problem is Jo-An. It always has been, ever since she started here. Would you like the whole story?” Winifred appeared to hesitate, but I nodded my encouragement. “Go ahead. I want to hear.” “Well, two years ago, when Bob retired, the Board started a search for a new heaster. They had some good applicants, but what I heard from a friend whose daughter is a search consultant in Burlington, is that Jo-An was the pushiest and most aggressive and seemed to really impress the Board with her qualifications. The only drawback was when they checked her references and learned that she was not good with people, like developing staff, which we need. But that was ok with the Board, because their priorities were to get the school known nationwide and abroad, to increase enrollment and run a tight ship. She could do this. Someone on the Board confided in me, right after Kevin left, that they knew they’d made a mistake in hiring her but there was nothing they could or would do about it then. They then became very ive and insulated themselves from the day-to-day operations here.” “I wish I’d known this before I accepted the position,” I replied with a straight face. I was half-kidding, as no one, at least in my limited experience, could be as bad as Jo-An seemed to be. Winifred looked up, alarmed. “Oh, no! I hope I haven’t discouraged you!” She seemed really scared that she had intimidated me. “Winifred, no, no, I’m only kidding. Please believe me. She can’t be all that bad. Now, tell me, why did Kevin leave?” I took a sip of my afternoon tea, trying not

to appear too curious, and leaned back in my chair. “That’s another story. But I’m not sure I should tell you now,” she reluctantly added. My raised-eyebrow expression begged her to continue. “Well, ok. Bob, the former heaster, was doing both jobs, his and finance/business. The Board wanted to bring in a professional who knew computers and had a business and education degree. One of the Board who had lived in L.A. for a while knew Kevin and recommended him. They hired him right after Bob left, months before they’d even interviewed Jo-An. Kevin was nice and competent, at least from what I could see. All he tried to do was get some procedures in place, replace old computers, and try to get things organized for when the new heaster started. When Jo-An ed us, she was real nice to him. Flirted with him, played up to him. Everything he’d done was great, she’d tell him. It’s been many years since I was her age, but it was obvious what she was doing. We think she was flirting with him. They’re about the same age.” “Did they ever date?” “No. Kevin used to get phone calls, once or twice a month from an old friend in California. Jacob, Jared, something like that. I could hear bits and pieces of conversations as he walked by on his cell. I’d also see him texting a lot at his desk or outside. Well, last Christmas, we had a concert and a party. A big celebration; it was also the end of the semester. Families were coming, students leaving for the holidays. Jared, yes, that’s his name, came out here for the holidays. When Jo-An met Jared at the party and realized, I guess, that the two were more than friends, her whole attitude towards Kevin changed. She locked horns with Kevin on everything after that. Nothing he did was right. We should have put in HP’s instead of Dell’s, she told him; she criticized every aspect of what he did, and not just to him, but to everyone. Even in staff meetings. Finally, one day, in mid-June, after she had been making sarcastic and critical remarks about his choice of software during the staff meeting, Kevin stood up, banged his fist on the conference table, and said ‘Jo-An, that’s enough. I’ve had it with your criticizing everything I do.’ I heard this from Laura who was in the meeting.” “Then what did Jo-An do?” I was intrigued. “She just sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, and said, ‘Fine.

Then you can leave, either this meeting, or the Academy.’ Kevin then stormed out of the meeting, and spent the rest of the day shut in his office, on the phone, many on outside lines. I can tell from here.” She nodded towards her computer monitor where all the extensions were listed and recorded incoming and outgoing calls. “The next day, he gave his notice.” “Did you have a party for him when he left?” “Well, that was the funny part. We were going to. Jo-An wasn’t a part of it. Those last few days, she treated him like he didn’t even exist. Then, as things got tenser between them, he didn’t even work out his notice. One day, he was just gone. Jo-An told us he’d left his office keys and things on her desk one evening; later, she saw him drive off in his BMW.” “Didn’t he take his stuff? Did he live in town?” As disturbing as the story was, I wanted to hear more. “The night Kevin left, Roland told us he saw the white BMW parked in front of the house where Kevin lived. He rented part of a house from an elderly couple on the south side of town. Roland saw Kevin putting several suitcases into the car, and later learned from the landlady that Kevin had hired professional movers who came the next day for his belongings.” “Wow. So how was Jo-An after that?” “Very smug, but also a little nervous. Every time the phone rang, she’d get edgy. Lydia thinks she was afraid of repercussions from the Board, because they liked Kevin and had hired him.” “Did they ever say anything to her? The Board, I mean.” “Not that I’m aware. The Board will meet up here about once or twice a year, usually in September and again in May. She goes to Wellesley for the other monthly meetings. Kevin went to all the meetings, of course, as you will. The last meeting he went to was in early June, just before the blow-up.” “Someone should have informed the Board about all this.” I couldn’t believe the soap opera that had gone on here. “They knew. They chose not to deal with it. Like I said, they don’t get involved

with any of the day-to-day. Most of them are nice people, but don’t know anything about what we do here, or more importantly, about what Jo-As is doing here other than what they hired her for. As long as she gets those results, I guess, the end justifies the means.” I shook my head, unable to comprehend such poor management. “How did the Kevin/Jo-An relationship affect morale? Were the staff and students affected?” “Well, the students are fairly isolated from what goes on in the offices. But the staff were exposed to all of it.” There was a loud commotion outside my door. Jo-An burst in without knocking. Her face was flaming with rage. Looking first at Winifred, then at me, she hissed, “Who gave you permission to have Sarah start a half hour early? Don’t you know that’s one half hour of time we have to pay her over what’s budgeted? Can I assume, Winifred, you’re not getting paid for this half hour and this is just a social meeting?” She looked at both of us, with the most livid, angry look on her face I’d ever seen on anyone. I was terrified, but I answered evenly and politely. “Jo-An, of course Winifred is getting paid. This is a meeting, on school time. We couldn’t very well meet at her desk with all the interruptions from the phone.” To myself, I thought, some meeting this turned out to be. If Jo-An only knew what we were really discussing. Jo-An ignored my comments. “Claire, this is unacceptable. In the future, you will get my approval on anything you wish to do, is that clear?” I was shocked. Beyond shock, really. I was also humiliated. I wanted to speak with Jo-An alone. I looked at Winifred and said, as calmly as I could, “Good night, Winifred. See you tomorrow.” Winifred, taking my cue, hastily made her escape past Jo-An. I turned my attention to Jo-An. “I hear what you’re saying, Jo-An, and I have no problem with getting your approval on important issues. But how do I determine which issues are substantial enough to warrant your approval? For instance, what if Lydia needed to work a half hour overtime to finish statements?” I tried to be professional and calm, and not let the sarcasm or shakiness that I was feeling creep into my voice. I ed a bumper sticker that read, “Speak your mind even if your voice shakes.”

Her reply stunned me. Her eyes were cold and steel-hard, and she stared right past me. “The only determination you need to make is to come to me with everything. And furthermore, get those flowers out of this office. I have allergies.” With that comment, she spun around, her long print skirt whirling about, and she fled as quickly as she’d come in. The tears built up in my eyes until I couldn’t see through the blur. I shut my door just in time, as the tears came pouring out. I managed to stay busy in my office until about four o’clock, when I escaped to the safety of Flo’s with my vase of zinnias.

Chapter 3

At the end of my first week I was exhausted. It wasn’t so much the work, I told myself as I drove to Flo’s that evening, but more the getting to know a new environment and its people. The week had been very trying, as I familiarized myself with Jo-An’s procedures, and the differences between a private school and a public district. At least we used the same software package, I thought. One less thing to learn, although the records being in a complete shambles for the last several months after Kevin left was going to be my nemesis. I was also exhausted from trying to second-guess Jo-An’s temperament. I would have to learn to chill out or I’d be a wreck by the time Gene moved up here. A soft, cool rain had begun to fall, sufficient for me to turn on the intermittent wipers. I was warm, damp and sweaty. I pulled into my in-laws’ driveway, figuring I would run in, change, and go grocery shopping with Flo. Much to my surprise, I recognized my sister’s silver Lexus SUV in the yard. I ran into the house, and into Gene’s arms. Gene, Louise, Flo and Jack were all gathered in the kitchen. “We just got here five minutes ago!” Louise explained breathlessly. “I can’t believe it. I was so surprised to see your car. And Gene - I never expected to see you. Thank you so much for coming up!” I gave him a second big hug as I fought back tears of gratitude. “I thought I’d stay up here for the week, and we can go back together next weekend. sca has the key, and she’ll take care of the house.” sca was our friend and neighbor in Hartford, and a doctor at St. Bernard’s Hospital there. “What about you, Louise?” “Well, I thought I’d go shopping tomorrow, and maybe you can show me the Academy, and I can just go sight seeing around on my own. I’ll probably head back Sunday noon.”

I was thoroughly surprised by this visit. I hadn’t expected to see Gene for three weeks, when I was planning to go to Hartford for the weekend. “This is great. You guys are wonderful. Gene, the ride wasn’t too bad for you, was it?” I was really concerned about the tiring effects of his trip. “I feel pretty good. We took our time, and I think we found most of the MacDonald’s between here and Hartford.” Gene laughed, and looked at Louise, who was leaning against the counter. Louise was built just like me, but looked much better in jeans and sweater. Although we were only two years apart, we were like twins. It hadn’t always been so in our younger years. As the older, I was more serious, more responsible. Louise had been sloppy, a rebel in her teens, and because we shared a bedroom growing up, we fought constantly. Sometime in our twenties we realized the differences didn’t matter, and our relationship changed for the better. Louise was now a successful real estate broker in the Boston suburbs and we respected each other’s differences. Louise continued. “We decided to have a progressive dinner for our trip. But instead of going to different places for each course, we stopped only at MacDonald’s, and ordered a small item at each one, like fries in Brattleboro, cheeseburger in White River, apple pie in Randolph. It was fun!” “Sounds like a balanced meal to me,” Flo added. “I don’t suppose anyone would be interested in steaks and salad as a final course? Although for three of us, anyway, as a first course?” Everyone laughed, and it was the beginning to a wonderful weekend. On Saturday morning, I took Louise and Gene on a tour of the Academy. The school seemed deserted, except for Roland, whom we could see in the distance mowing the athletic field, and Edgar’s truck parked by the Commons. As I showed them my office, Louise asked how I liked Gregory Hill so far. I hadn’t had much of a chance to talk with either my sister or Gene about the events of my first week on the job. “It’s really nice. The ‘Pinch me - I’m dreaming’ syndrome. Look at the view. Look at this gorgeous old building, and my office, and my job, well, it’s everything I’ve done before, yet in a perfect environment.” Gene spoke, softly. “Are you trying to convince us, or yourself?” He smiled. “I’ve known you long enough. What’s wrong?”

Louise added, “I’ve known her even longer, Gene, and there’s something she hasn’t told us yet.” She looked at me, squinting her eyes. “Now, what is it?” I sighed. “Have a seat.” I pulled a couple of chairs around my desk, and we sat down. “I guess I’m tired, and emotionally strained. It’s tough getting used to a new job, and not being settled in at home yet, and everything.” Louise honed in on the issue intuitively. “How are the people you work with? How’s your boss? What’s her name? Joan?” “Jo-An. And, the people - the staff - they are all wonderful. But Jo-An, well, she’s a bit domineering. Maybe autocratic, I don’t know for sure. But there is one thing. She’s a smart lady, and she has a lot of responsibility on her shoulders. So I suppose that she’s entitled to blow off steam once in a while.” “Why? Has she?” I hadn’t told Gene any of my observations when I had called him during the week, so now I filled them in on the past week’s events, including what I had learned of Kevin’s departure and the circumstances surrounding his leaving. Gene was thoughtful for a moment. “It could be the pressure of her job. I worked with several men in my career who were the Type A personality. Overachievers, always busy, workaholics. Sometimes seemingly irrational to us gentler, calmer types. But there’s never cause or need to be rude, or overbearing. If this were a large corporation, these types eventually get weeded out. Do you have a personnel department?” “No, Jo-An is it. She hires, and fires. Runs the whole show, under the auspices of the Board.” Louise was curious. “I think you should find out more about this Kevin. Something doesn’t seem right. Why Jo-An and Kevin didn’t get along. What was really behind it. And why he didn’t work out his notice. That was very unprofessional of him, and you said he was regarded as being very professional. I’d try to find out where he’s working now and get in touch with him. You know, just to say hi, I had some questions about whatever. Make up something. You’re good at that.” I laughed, and agreed she was right. Maybe I should try to locate and call Kevin, just to talk about the job. Winifred could probably help me locate him. I made a

mental note to talk to her on Monday about it. Saturday night, we sat in the Phillips’ cozy living room, enjoying after-dinner coffee. Gene and Jack watched TV from their easy chairs at one end of the room, and Louise, Flo and I appropriated the sofa and rocker nearest the fireplace, still too early in the season to be lit. We talked about the town, Flo’s friends, people in town. Louise was curious about real estate values. “I can’t believe the price of houses up here compared to Boston. You could get 3 here for the price of one back home.” Jack added, “But it varies from town to town in Vermont. There are some communities where the tourism from New York, Connecticut and New Jersey price the average homeowner right out of town. You have either pricey homes and condos, or absolute shacks. We may have made Vermont look good on the map by doing away with the highway billboard clutter, but we still have our poverty well hidden from public view on the back roads.” Louise made a face. “That’s disgusting. At least in Boston, we don’t hide our slums. They’re in plain view, sometimes just a block away from wealth. And what about crime? How does that compare?” Jack continued. “At most, we might have an occasional homicide. Some husband doesn’t like his wife’s cooking.” He laughed. Flo stuck her tongue out at him. We all giggled. They were so cute. “But not much else. We did have an attempted robbery this summer. As a matter of fact, Seth Ebbeling’s house. Just ransacked. As far as he could tell, nothing was taken. Oh, and maybe a wild kid on a joy ride - a car crash, accident. But nothing serious.” He stood up, and walking over to the coffee table, picked up the tea pot. “Anyone? Flo? May I pour you another cup? What better way to complete a fabulous gourmet meal than with your fantastic brownies and tea in this lovely heirloom pot? You are such a wonderful woman!” He bent over and kissed her forehead. Flo rolled her eyes. “No, thank you, dear. But you could get me something while you’re up.” “Anything, dear.” “My boots. The tall ones, in the back hall. It’s getting deep in here.”

While we recovered from our laughing fits, Flo continued about the town. “Would you two girls like to come to church with us tomorrow? It would give you a chance, Claire, to meet some of the people from town. And I know they’re anxious to meet you.” Flo put down her cup and reached for the porcelain pot. “More coffee? Tea?” She looked at each of us, smiling her wonderful, warm smile that made her one of the most popular women in town. Louise was still munching on one of Flo’s prize-winning brownies, so I spoke for both of us. “Of course we’ll go to church. I already miss choir practice and my friends in Hartford, and it’s not even been two weeks since I last saw them!” I had sung most of my life in our church choir in Hartford, starting with children’s choir when I was five. I always looked forward to the night out for practice. We had a great time. The could be serious, funny, and spontaneous. We were a good group, and had a great music director. I thought about all the wonderful times we had had, and a few sad ones, too as older ed away. “That was a nice party they gave you when you left.” Louise interrupted my nostalgic daydream, before the tears had a chance to spill over. “Oh, it was,” I replied. “It was really tough saying good-bye to people I grew up with. I was a member of Calvary all my life. I had kids in my Sunday school class whose parents were in grade school with me! The whole church was like family.” My voice cracked as I ed the party they threw for me at our last practice two weeks earlier. I would never forget them, or the ache of longing I felt inside as I tried to swallow my coffee. I could see that Louise noticed my nostalgia, and began asking Flo questions about the minister and the size of the congregation. The following morning Louise, Flo and I went to church. The men decided to stay home, as Gene was more tired than he wanted to it, and Jack offered to help him with a shower and breakfast. Flo confided to me, as we were going out the door, that it was a good time for father and son to be alone, as Gene had only spoken on the phone to his father since his illness had been diagnosed. In the past few months, since the diagnosis, we had been so busy we had not gotten up to Vermont for even one visit, and we usually came up at least twice a year. The First Church of Dayville was a picture right from of a calendar. Of all our

trips to Vermont, we had never gone to church with Flo and Jack, mostly because our time was so limited or we were here during the week for vacation and drove home Sunday mornings. I had driven by the church many times, though, as it was right in the center of the town, set back a few hundred feet at the far end of the common, and surrounded by a white fence. To the left and rear of the church was a good sized cemetery, and even from the road, you could see ancient, almost black colored stones marking the graves nearest the church, while lighter grayish-white granite stones denoted the newer graves farther to the back and up the hill. The church itself was white frame, and two stories, with six tall rectangular windows on the ground floor of each side, and matched identically above with six round-topped windows. According to Flo, there had been a debate going on for the last twenty years about replacing the simple, puritanical style windows on the sanctuary level with stained glass. The arguments against consisted of “you can’t put in stained glass on the top level without putting it on the bottom level, too, and who ever heard of that much stained glass in one building” to “there’s no way we’re ever going to agree on what themes, motif, colors for the windows that it’s not worth arguing about”. The issue of money had never come up, Flo said. She guessed that if the congregation, and this issue came up every year at the annual meeting, really wanted to agree on the windows, they’d find the way to raise the money. Parishioners were parking their cars alongside the common. There was only one service on Sunday, at ten, and the church was usually filled. Everyone in town who wasn’t Catholic went to First Church. As Jack once said, and he had been raised Catholic, you either drove to Burlington to Mass or you became a Protestant. In the winter, he said, there always seemed to be more Protestants in town, especially when the driving was bad. I immediately loved the inside of the church. The ceilings were so high, and the white-boxed pews seemed so insignificant and out of proportion to the height of the building. We sat about half way down the right side. The organist was playing a Bach prelude on a beautiful old Holbrook pipe organ, situated at the front right of the church, on a level about two steps higher than the pews. Beside the altar and facing the organ and congregation were three short pews; delineating this ‘choir loft’ was a three-foot high railing on two sides, separating the choir from the altar. The choir, about eight women and six men, quietly filed in from a side exit and took their places in the choir pews. I couldn’t really see the organist. He sat with his back to the congregation while he played, although I noticed that the tenors, sitting nearest the organ along the right wall, had left half

a pew empty, which the organist later occupied when he wasn’t playing. The service lasted just forty-five minutes. The minister was wonderful, so full of life and enthusiasm, but with a real wry sense of humor. I enjoyed watching the people in the pews. They, too, seemed to catch his spirit, agreeing with him by nodding, or smiling. The choir, too, was excellent. Although it was half the size of mine in Hartford, this group more than filled the nave with sound, and harmonized beautifully. I was amazed at the ambitious chorale chosen for this Sunday, and was anxious to talk to the choir director about his talented group. As the end of the service, as we filed out of our pews, the chatter began. Flo made introductions to her friends. “Claire, Louise, I’d like you to meet Ebba Williams. Ebba and I grew up together in Essex Junction and we’ve lived in Dayville just about the same amount of time. And, we’re best friends.” We shook hands warmly with the pleasant, gray haired woman in her mid-seventies. “Flo and I got married within six months of each other, and our husbands both worked for the Highway Department. We just sort of settled in the same town.” “You look very familiar to me, Ebba. I’m sure I must have seen you around here before.” I kept trying to think where I had seen her. “I own the small grocery store across the street. Hank’s. Named after my oldest son, who was killed in Vietnam. I wasn’t pregnant yet with Hank, and it was winter. Henry, my husband, was gone such long days. He and Jack would be up at three some mornings. Especially with plowing and roadwork. So, when old Mr. Stetson moved to Burlington to live with his daughter, I offered to buy the store. Irene, his daughter, let me pay it off over ten years. But we made a good store of it, and now my daughter, Sally, runs it. Here she comes now.” Sally was about my age, with soft, rounded features. Her chestnut brown hair was braided into a huge bun at the back of her head. She was wearing an anklelength country-print dress in shades of yellow and blue, and looked like a real Vermont countrywoman. As I studied her face, I saw a tremendous amount of experience and intelligence. It was obvious why the attractive little store across the common was so successful. Ebba introduced us. “Weren’t you in the choir?” I asked, recognizing her. I had been studying everyone’s faces intently during the service, trying to get a sense of the character

of the town. “Yes, I was. How good of you to notice.” “Well, I was very impressed. You were all so good. Soprano, aren’t you?” I ventured an educated guess. Sally’s eyes lit up. “Do you sing?” “Yes, and I was hoping I’d be able to …” My voice trailed off as Sally took my arm. “Come on, let’s go find Seth. He’s our choir director. We were saying the other night how we need a couple of new voices.” Sally escorted me down the stairs inside the main entrance. The ground level of the building contained Sunday school rooms, kitchen and large parish hall. At one end of the hall, by the kitchen, was a long, white cloth-covered table holding coffee and pastries. We found most of the churchgoers gathered here, talking and eating. Sally and I poured ourselves some coffee, and she led me to where a group of people were gathered off to one side, laughing. One of the men, seeing Sally, reached over and put his arm around her shoulder. “Hi, Sally. We were just talking about you.” The group laughed. “I hope it was something good, Fred.” She took his arm, and put it around the shoulder of the woman to her right. The group laughed again. She continued, obviously in sync with the choir’s humor. “I’d like to introduce a new member of our community, and possibly a new choir member. This is Claire Phillips, Flo and Jack’s daughter-in-law. Claire, this is Fred, Beth, Marion, Harriet, Seth, and Roger, my husband.” I knew I’d never the names. “How do you do. It’s so nice to meet all of you. Flo has told me so much about this church and all the nice people here. But I really wish you’d all wear name tags.” They laughed, and I shook hands around the group. Sally continued, her eyes on Seth. “And Claire, this is Seth Ebbeling, our director of music. Seth,” Sally continued addressing the tall man to her right, “as I mentioned, Claire has expressed an interest in singing with us.” Seth wasn’t what I expected. I had pictured an aging, bald man in his sixties. My

choir director in Hartford had been a woman in her early seventies, who gave piano lessons to little kids, wore horned rimmed glasses and permed her grayishblue hair into tight little curls. Seth, in contrast, was tall, in his early forties, with sandy blond hair worn collar-length. He was dressed casually, too, wearing a pastel plaid sport shirt and olive slacks. His face was lightly tanned from the summer, but not excessively. All in all, he was very handsome. “Well, we’d be glad to have you sing with us, Claire. Or, if you just want to come to a practice and listen, you can do that, too. We meet Monday evenings at six-thirty and we just started last week for the fall. We usually have a good time.” He looked around at the group, stopping with Sally. I noticed their eyes met each other’s for a brief second. “Oh, yeh.” Sally’s husband, Roger, ed in. “We had to give Seth a little education when he ed us three years ago. He thought he was getting a real bunch of hicks when he took over this choir. We ain’t so naive.” The whole group laughed. I added to their amusement. “I only hope I can live up to your reputation, or down to it, wherever it is.” The men roared with laughter, with Fred slapping me lightly on the back. “Okay, she’ll fit right in. Let me get you another cup of coffee.” He took my Styrofoam cup and went over to the table. Sally and Marion turned to me, and Sally spoke seriously. “We know, from Flo, that your husband is ill. If we can do anything for you, at any time, please don’t hesitate to call us. One thing about this town, and this church, we do look out for each other. We may act silly at times, often crazy, but life is hard up here, especially in the winters. If we seem to know everything about everyone’s personal life, it isn’t because we’re nosy. We’re all just close. But if you want to be left alone, we respect that, too. Just , we, and this church, are here for you.” Everyone in the group nodded and smiled sincerely. I felt a warm rush through my body. I felt as though I’d known these people all my life. Sally touched my arm. “You haven’t met Pastor Henshaw and his wife. Those are their twin boys running around the hall.” I had wondered to whom the adorable three-year old twins belonged. We walked over to the Henshaw’s. David Henshaw and his wife Denise were even friendlier than he’d seemed in

the pulpit. I was right at ease. They were in their mid-thirties, having met in seminary. Denise had gone on to graduate school, while David had gotten ordained and accepted his first parish in Ohio. Then, he and Denise married and accepted a call for four years to Africa. The twins had been born the second year they were in Dayville. I asked them about Africa. David replied. “The only comparison I can give you is, we joke about being survivors just to make it through a Vermont winter. In the depressed, starving third-world countries, you’re a survivor if you can make it day to day. But the irony is, those countries are just as rich as ours, in of natural resources and people. The problem is in how to make it all connect. Because most of the people are villagers, and have always been isolated from the cities, politics, and macro economy of their country, their needs and goals are short-term. The governments have never addressed the issues of utilizing their countries greatest natural resource, its people.” Denise added, “So many of the government programs work at odds with each other and their efforts are fragmented. Sometimes we felt like we took two steps forward and one backward. The real reward, I guess, was in watching the individuals we worked closely with grow over the years, and benefit from the schooling we gave them. The fact that they learned to question and get involved in the running of their village and local government gave us great satisfaction.” “The problem is,” David went on, “is that when there is a political revolt in their country, as most likely will happen, these are the people who will be killed or hurt the most. Sometimes we wondered if it was just better to leave well enough alone and let them remain naive pawns in the political wars and unrest in their country.” He looked at me apologetically. “I don’t mean to sound pessimistic. This is a subject for another time. I could go on for hours, otherwise.” “Rev. Henshaw, I am fascinated by your views. It sounds like you two have led a very interesting life.” I sincerely was interested, and wanted to hear more. Denise laughed. “Well, right now, our priorities are serving this parish and raising our family. Have you met Matthew and Peter? Although the choir has nicknamed our sons Larry and Larry, and they’re waiting for us to have another.” She patted her stomach. “Two months to go.” Rev. Henshaw put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We want to have the twelve

disciples, but it’s unlikely we’ll have twelve boys.” I congratulated them, feeling slightly envious that Gene and I had never had children. Sally spoke up. “We have been entertained many evenings with videos and pictures of Africa and lots of stories. It hasn’t been a travelogue, by any means. What we’ve tried to do is get discussion going on the social and moral aspects of missionary work. We’ve had some heated conversations.” “But we’re still all friends!” Denise added, laughing. She added, “We’d like to meet your husband, Claire. Gene is his name, right?” “Yes, and he wasn’t feeling up to much this morning, after the trip Friday.” “I’m familiar with M.S. And Gene is diabetic, also? Flo told me he’s insulindependent? That’s not so bad. It’s a tough combination, but learning to adapt and cope are the keys. I did a practicum in grad school on chronic and terminal illness, and worked for a year with patients diagnosed with various serious illnesses. If I can be of any help, please call me. Who is your doctor?” “Gene’s specialist in Hartford has referred us to someone in Burlington, whom we’ll be meeting this week. It’s one of the reasons Gene decided to come up when he did, as they’d arranged this visit. Dr. Metzger.” “Oh, yes, he’s wonderful. I met him in a counseling group I’ve been working with in Burlington. He’s very nice. I think you’ll like him. He’s very honest, and won’t gloss over the truth. But he’s comionate.” Denise went on. “Do you have directions to his office?” “Yes, thank you. Flo and Jack know where he is.” Rev. Henshaw grabbed one of his sons as he came racing by. “Claire, we’d love to have you and your husband over some evening for coffee. Why don’t you and Denise pick a date? I have to go look for a missing son.” He left Matthew, fussing, with his wife, and ran out the back door of the hall. Denise laughed. “I can’t wait for the third one!” I felt so good that, the next day, when I arrived at work and ran into Laura in the lounge, I told her all about my weekend and meeting the people at First Church.

I asked her where she went to church. “We live over in Four Corners, so we drive into Essex Junction when we go to church, which isn’t often. You probably didn’t see many people you recognized from the Academy, I’ll bet.” She was right, although I did seeing George Rossi and his wife. George taught science. “No, I didn’t, except for George.” “When school gets started, we run a bus on Saturday afternoons into Burlington so the Catholic students may attend mass and go shopping. On Sundays, the bus goes to Dayville’s First Church for the ten o’clock service. There may be a couple of students who take advantage of the bus. Otherwise, once a month, we have a rotating schedule for a minister, priest and rabbi to come in for an evening service. As for other religious groups, the students usually make their own arrangements. Sherry Fielding used to be a member of First Church. She’s the music director now of a church in Essex Jct.” She picked up her coffee, and I followed her out the door. “Don’t forget,” she said, “We have a staff meeting tomorrow morning.” I decided this would be a good day to check out all the computers in the school and put together a master list of the hardware, software and server layout. Starting with Jo-An’s office, as she wasn’t in yet and I didn’t want to displace her while I worked at her desk, I began a capital equipment list to replace the pencil-scribbled one I found in the ing files. Using my lap-top, I created a spreadsheet with all the pertinent information as to location/use, hard drive size, software, date of purchase, everything. By the time I finished the computers in the istration building, it was almost noon. I had run into Jo-An in the hall an hour earlier, but she seemed preoccupied. Several groups of students were arriving today and she was busy with the resident directors on their last minute instructions. Heidi was racing around on the lawn between istration and Maintenance with a stuffed toy she was pretending to attack. I decided to get my lunch from the staff lounge refrigerator and go outside with Heidi. “Heidi!” I called. “Bring it here! Come on, bring it here!” Heidi stopped, facing me, and feigned ferociousness. She grabbed the toy in her mouth, shaking it violently. Dropping it, she ran backwards, half crouching and

barking, asking me to play. I ran forward, grabbed the toy and took off at a run for the maintenance building. Heidi was not going to let me get away. She caught up with me, jumping and leaping at my back until I stopped, out of breath and laughing. She snatched the stuffed lion from my hand and began shaking it again. When I reached down to grab the toy, she ran off, glancing sideways at me, asking me again to come play. “All right, Heidi, I’m coming. I’m going to get your lion!” Heidi ran for the side door of the security/maintenance building and I followed. The door was wide open, affording me a view of Roland’s lawn equipment inside. He was a very neat and organized person, and had all the snow removal items tidily stacked in the back of the large room, with the summer equipment at the front. Alongside the wall to the right, by the window, was a large desk and a computer. The desk was neatly arranged; there was a small pile of manila folders, a desk blotter/calendar, the phone, and a jar with pencils and pens. I peeked at the computer screen, which was on. It was a security system. The monitor was simultaneously showing at least a dozen black and white pictures of various sections of the campus. I recognized the front gate, the Commons lobby, the istration lobby, but not many others. I was curious how the system worked, and if Roland had other screen monitors around campus. I made another mental note to ask him next time I saw him. Heidi was nowhere in sight, but I could hear her yelping for me. There was a door at the far end of the room. I moved closer, and saw that a doggy-door had been installed at the bottom of the heavy steel door. I heard Heidi growling in her play-voice to her toy. I opened the door. So this is where the smokestack comes from, I thought, as I stared in awe at the huge boiler in the center of the dark room. The boiler was fairly quiet, except for a low hissing. I moved closer. The nameplate on the boiler said “Kewanee.” Huge pipes and insulated vents and ducts ran every which way, representing additions to the heating system over the years as newer buildings were constructed on campus. I could see by the gauges that the boiler was producing steam. “That must be the hissing sound”, I whispered to Heidi, who was curled up on her cedar-filled dog bed in a corner. “We don’t need to make heat at this time of the year. Say, Heidi, you must have the warmest room in the school come wintertime. Don’t you?” She looked up at me and wagged her tail. I knelt down

to rub her stomach, and she rolled over, kicking her short little legs in the air. Underneath her was a treasure-trove of doggie toys. “Heidi, what have you got here? Your own private stash of goodies? Let me look at this stuff.” I picked up a large tortoise shell hair barrette, slightly scratched from teeth marks. “Now, Heidi, were you thinking of doing up your hair with this? How did you get this? Are you starting your own lost and found?” Heidi whimpered and pawed my arm, asking for more rubs. I browsed through the pile. She had a hairbrush, also, which led me to believe she had probably been visiting a student’s room, although I was sure that that was not allowed. There were the usual squeaky toys, rubber bones, and, of all things, a man’s dress shoe. I picked up the shoe. It was a Bruno Magli, size eight. Very expensive and new. She had hardly chewed it. As I examined it closely, Heidi growled at me. “Okay, okay, I’ll give it back. I don’t want your toys.” I got up. “I’m going outside to eat my lunch. This room gives me the creeps. Are you coming?” Heidi kept chewing away on her lion, so I left her to herself and went outside. I found a stone bench under a maple tree and was halfway through my sandwich when Jo-An came running across the lawn. She was out of breath and in an incredible hurry. I noticed the outfit she was wearing bulged and stretched with each breath she took. The tan polyester pants, about two sizes too small, permitted her abdomen to protrude like a basketball. The brown and navy plaid blazer didn’t do much to cover her bulges, as the shoulders were too tight and confined her arms in straightjacket fashion. I managed to greet her enthusiastically between bites of my sandwich. “Hi, Jo-An. Want to me for lunch?” I smiled, nodding at the other half of my bench. She ignored my offer. She was not smiling. “I saw you a few minutes ago playing with Heidi. We do not want the dog to be playing aggressive or threatening games. This is totally unacceptable, and I would appreciate it if you would not play aggressively with her in the future. We have students here, some of whom do not like animals. Furthermore, Heidi is not supposed to be running around loose. I have a leash in my office, and Roland knows better.” She paused, and looked over at the side door to maintenance. “By the way, were you just in Roland’s office?”

I realized I probably couldn’t win no matter how I answered this question. Obviously, if she’d seen me playing with Heidi, she had seen me go into the boiler room. I decided to play dumb. “Oh, so that was Roland’s office? I noticed the door was open, and it was full of lawn equipment. Heidi was in there.” I stopped. Some instinct told me not to say too much. Jo-An had a reprimand for what I’d told her. “Roland’s office is off-limits to everyone. Liability insurance reasons, I’m sure you understand. No one goes in there. If there’s a security issue, you can come see me in my office. That’s clearly stated in the employee and student handbooks.” She became very nervous, and her eyes were no longer concentrated on me, but flitting all around the campus. I heard the bell ring noting five minutes to the end of lunch. “I left another pile of papers on your desk; if you could look over them, I’d appreciate it.” She turned to leave. “When would you like to meet to discuss them?” I had no idea what they were, but after hearing Jo-An’s complaints about Winifred not getting things done, I decided to pin her down to a deadline. However, Jo-An ran off across the lawn towards the dining commons without answering my question. That evening, before choir practice, I had a quick snack while Flo and Jack ate their supper. I decided I would eat supper later with Gene, who was napping when I arrived home from work. Ever since he had retired, Gene’s hours were erratic, but more fun, he said. He woke when he felt like it; ate when he wanted to; strolled today in Flo’s beautiful gardens when the mood struck him; and napped when he was tired. He had begun keeping this new routine in Connecticut, but agreed it was going to be much nicer here. I knew Gene would have no problem with eating later today, at eight o’clock or so, as long as he had a snack to keep his sugar level under control while I was out. I was a little nervous as I drove over to the church. I began to realize, after living in the same town all my life, what it was like being the new kid on the block. For a minute, I almost turned around, and even while parking the car in front of the church, I had second thoughts about going in. But just then I saw Sally crossing the street from her store. “I’m so glad you could make it!” Sally hurried over to greet me. “I almost didn’t. I have to it, I’m a little shy.”

“Well, you don’t have to be with us.” She opened the door to the church. “Are we practicing up here? I saw a piano downstairs.” “We usually do practice downstairs, and every few weeks, we meet up here. But Seth wants to practice more up here, to get us used to singing with the organ. Also, the acoustics are better here and we can learn to project our voices better in the larger room.” As we entered the nave, I could see a few choir already gathered up front, sipping their coffee and chatting. We ed them, and very quickly, the rest of the group, including Seth, came up the back stairs behind the altar. Seth greeted everyone warmly, and looked at me. “Welcome, Claire. We’re very glad you have ed us, whether to sing or to listen, your choice. Why don’t you have a seat with Harriet and Beth in the alto section? And, would anyone with coffee or gum please dispose of it immediately? I trust I won’t be reminding you again.” He turned to the organ. Roger quickly downed the last of his coffee, and handed the empty paper cup to his wife, who plopped her gum into it. Just as quickly, the other coffee drinkers finished their coffee and handed the empty cups to Marion, who had taken a small plastic bag from her purse and placed all the cups into it. She discreetly placed the bag under her chair. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. This group obviously worked well together, and it was just as obvious this wasn’t the first time they had been in this situation. Seth turned back to us from the organ, where he had been collecting a stack of sheet music. He handed the music out, and the next hour ed very quickly as we rehearsed pieces for the next several Sundays, as well as the Christmas Chorale. When I arrived home, a little after eight, I was hoarse, hot and tired. Gene greeted me with a hug and a bourbon, pleased I’d had such a good time. We sat down to a late but quiet supper. The following day was our first staff meeting. I was apprehensively awaiting this meeting, as Jo-An had been in a terrible mood for the last several days. Classes were to begin on Thursday, while students had been arriving every day since last week. About a quarter of the students had arrived over the weekend, leaving JoAn frazzled, with parent questions, dorm assignments, menu changes, everything.

I sat at the end of the conference table between Laura and Sherry. Staff quickly filled the empty seats, and I recognized everyone by now. The door opened again, and Jo-An flew into the room. She was carrying a stack of papers and folders about a foot high. I sighed. This was not going to be a short meeting. There was one chair empty, and one mentor missing. I was trying to figure out who it was when Laura whispered, “Where’s Ellen?” I shrugged. Without looking up, Jo-An began talking. “I’m going to need a lot more cooperation from all of you if we’re going to get this semester off to a good start.” She picked up a pile of papers and handed them around. “I’ve put together a list of everything that is not working right, or what needs to be done this week, and the person in this room who is responsible for it. Has everyone got one?” She looked around the table. I studied my sheet quickly, seeing my name next to one item halfway down the list. Better office coverage for billing questions and tuition payment. Claire. This should be interesting, I thought. She hadn’t told me about any changes she wanted in our office hours, or I would have gladly cooperated. Jo-An started down the list.

Insufficient bureaus, nightstands, or broken items in student rooms. Roland. Insufficient maintenance help to assist students with transporting belongings to their rooms. Roland. Not enough variety in juice selections for breakfast. Edgar. Menus not posted in enough places. Edgar. Menus not posted enough in advance of meals. Edgar. Student medical records not sufficiently filled out or filled out incorrectly. Ellen. Not enough staff on campus over the weekend to assist with directions, etc. Everyone.

And so it went on for two pages. When we got to the one about medical records, Jo-An said, “We’ll just skip this for now until Ellen gets here.” So Jo-An was aware of Ellen’s absence. Ellen was probable busy with a student. “Let’s talk about last weekend.” Jo-An leaned back in her chair, her blond hair appearing darker today, and stringier, as though it hadn’t been washed for several days. She had clipped the sides back from her face with tiny brown barrettes. Although the day was very warm, in fact, hot, almost ninety degrees, Jo-An was wearing a navy blue wool suit. The jacket was too tight to button, and instead of hanging gracefully to the top of her hips as it was designed to do, the lapels strained across her bust, leaving little fabric to cover her protruding middle and stomach. At that instant, she reached across the table for the tray of Danish and put two lemon/raspberry pastries on a paper napkin. “Edgar, Roland and I were here all weekend, until late each night, trying to get students settled in. Ellen and Laura were here for a good portion, too. But I must ask the rest of you to please put forth a better effort to help. It isn’t fair for some to do all the work.” She looked at me. “Claire, I spent a good part of Saturday and Sunday in the business office trying to find records for dozens of students. I don’t know what kind of a system Lydia has, but I would ask that you get that office straightened out. Also, if you and Lydia can be here evenings this week. I can’t do everything myself.” She looked at her list for the next item. “Excuse me, Jo-An, I’m sorry. If I had known you needed us this weekend, I would have gladly have been here. I had no…” Gene, my sister and I had been on campus between nine and nine-thirty on Saturday. I didn’t seeing any activity in the building, nor had Jo-An seen me. I decided not to mention it. Jo-An interrupted my apology. Jo-An cut me off. “I told everyone at last week’s staff meeting what the schedule was going to be for issions week. I specifically asked you, Claire, to be on call and on duty for these seven, eight days.” I looked around the room. Everyone was looking down at his or her lists. I knew I wasn’t crazy. “I must have missed that part of the meeting, Jo-An.” Laura jumped into the conversation. “Jo-An, we didn’t have a staff meeting last week, ? At the last minute you changed it to bagels for Claire and…”

Now Laura got cut off, as Ellen entered the room. “Oh, good!” Jo-An exclaimed. “We need to discuss the medical records. Now Ellen, the folders are not acceptable…” I was tired and confused by Jo-An’s ramblings, and didn’t want to argue anymore about this, so I decided to tune Jo-An out when she started in on Ellen. For a while, I just let my mind wander. I could hear Jo-An’s voice in the background, but I daydreamed about Gene, about choir, about my new friends, about redecorating Flo’s house. I was aware, though, of Ellen, who was sitting three seats to my right. She, too, seemed to have mastered the knack of tuning Jo-An out, and sat there calmly, sketching cartoon dogs on her notepad. Ellen had beautiful strawberry blond hair, shoulder length, which curled naturally in waves. When she entered the room, her hair was hanging freely. Now, I noticed that it was in a French braid secured with an elastic band. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d braided it. She appeared to be thinner than when I met her last week, although today she was wearing a long-sleeved, two-piece print dress in a thin rayon fabric that was a very flattering style. Ellen is so nice, I thought. She’s quiet, and doesn’t seem to get embroiled in the politics. But she’s letting Jo-An cut her to shreds and she doesn’t even seem to be aware of it or care. As I studied Ellen’s composure, I was suddenly aware of her right arm. Rather, the inside part of her forearm, between the inside elbow and wrist. As she doodled, the thin fabric of her dress had worked itself up towards the elbow. She had several parallel reddish-purple lines on each arm, each line about four to five inches long. Nasty scratches, I thought. I wondered how she could have gotten scratches like that. When the meeting finally ended, close to noon, I was exhausted. So was everyone else, I noticed, as they quickly escaped to their offices or departments. I headed back to see Lydia, realizing now that yesterday, Lydia must have discovered her office in a shambles from Jo-An’s weekend attack. What concerned me was that Lydia hadn’t shared that with me. I found Lydia at her desk, eating a sandwich and putting bills and papers into manila student files. “Do you have everything straightened out from the weekend?” I smiled pleasantly, deciding to ask her outright. Lydia’s reply was guarded and cautious. “Just about. I would have come in, you know. You only had to ask me.” She looked at me warily.

I sat down in the chair next to her desk. “What do you mean? So would I, had I known we were needed.” I looked her right in the eye. Lydia’s expression was pained and hurt. “Jo-An left a note on my desk, apparently from the weekend, which I found yesterday. Here.” She handed me a scribbled piece of paper. Sorry about the mess. I needed to find some files. Talk to you Monday! Jo-An. “Then, yesterday morning, when she came in, she asked where you were and I told her you were catag computer hardware. She made a face, and then explained she had had to come into the business office over the weekend to do issions as neither you nor I had shown up. I told her I hadn’t been asked, and she said she had specifically requested you to be here.” I felt like I was suffocating. “Lydia, please believe me. Jo-An never asked me to come in, or I would have relayed the message to you. So you know, this issue already came up this morning at the staff meeting, so I am aware of the communication mix-up.” I stood up to leave. I didn’t want to vent my frustrations to Lydia. “Thank you for telling me this. And Claire? Please don’t let it get to you. It did with Kevin.” Lydia spoke softly, almost in a whisper. “Lydia, tell me. What happened with Kevin? Why did he and Jo-An disagree on so many issues? Did you like him? What was he like to work for?” Lydia gave me a funny look. “I’ll tell you sometime. Not now.” She glanced nervously at the doorway. We managed to get through the rest of the week, working long hours into the evening at Jo-An’s insistence, even though there was very little to do. I didn’t bring the subject of Kevin up again. I was beginning to wonder if Jo-An made work for herself, because the several dozen parents and students we saw in person came in themselves during business hours and were very gracious. No one seemed to have the multitude of problems that Jo-An had described to me, such as billing errors, incorrect laundry charges, and so forth. By the time Thursday rolled around, all the students were settled, relatively happy, except for a few homesick ones, and ready for classes to begin. I told Jo-An Thursday afternoon that I would be in late Friday, as we had a doctor’s appointment in Burlington. “Who’s your doctor? When did you get a doctor in Burlington? You should have

talked with me first - I could have gotten you the names of some good specialists.” Jo-An was sitting at her desk, working rapidly on her computer, drinking a coffee and eating a salad from a large plastic bowl. No wonder her keyboard is so dirty, I thought. Half her meals must be in there. “Well, Jo-An, we’re seeing a Dr. Metzger, and all the arrangements were made through Gene’s physician in Hartford.” I was about to mention that Denise Henshaw highly recommended him, but thought twice before throwing more fuel on the fire. “I don’t know him. Ok, see you when you get here. Maybe we can find time this afternoon to go over all that stuff I left you.” “Sure, that would be great, Jo-An. I’m ready.” By the time we left Metzger’s office around eleven on Friday, I wished I had taken the whole day off. The news was not good. Gene and I sat in the car in the medical building’s lot and didn’t say anything to each other for a few minutes. Gene spoke first, very quietly. “Honey, I know you have to go into the office this afternoon. We can talk when you get home this evening.” I was staring straight ahead, afraid to look at him, as once I started crying, I knew I would never stop. “Ok, but are you going to tell your folks what Metzger told us?” “Do you mind if I do? They’re going to want to know.” “No, of course I don’t mind. I just wish I could be there so you don’t have to rehash it twice.” “Why don’t I do this instead, if you’d like. I am really exhausted, so why don’t I tell Mom and Dad I’m going to nap, and we can talk when you get home from work? Sound OK? I really want you there.” His voice cracked slightly and I knew the strain was getting to him. I reached over and took his hand, looking him straight in the eye. “A four hour nap will do you good. Just think of me with Jo-An this afternoon.” We managed a small laugh together.

As my luck would have it, Jo-An didn’t forget the meeting. “So, what did your new doctor have to say?” Jo-An was only half listening, as she was preoccupied with student medical files, going back and forth between those files and what we were discussing throughout my entire meeting. “Well, not too much more than we knew already. Gene’s sort of in the early to middle stages, and is doing ok for now.” There was no way I was going to confide the latest details to her. She lost interest in my conversation, anyway, as she uncovered an error in one of Ellen’s files and grabbed the phone to ask Ellen why the oversight. We spent almost two hours going over the stack of papers she had left me from Kevin’s unfinished work. I was glad I had done my homework days ago, where I had put notes on everything, so I didn’t really have to think too hard that afternoon. When we finally got to the bottom of the pile, Jo-An pushed the papers away and folded her hands on the table. “Now,” she said. “There’s one more thing that you need to be aware of. The auditors already know it, as it was a major issue during their review. We had some serious discrepancies last year. We haven’t determined whether it was the poor reconciliation methods of your predecessor, or if we actually had missing cash receipts. But the discrepancy resulted in a major write-off last year. We can’t afford to let it happen again, financially or otherwise.” Jo-An picked up a manila folder from her desk. “This is the documentation the auditors came up with. I’d like you to read it, look at their recommendations, and see how you’d go from here. Procedures, locks, security, whatever. But we have to fix the problem, as well as prove that it has gone away. I personally think it has.” With that comment, Jo-An abruptly ended the meeting, picking up the phone. I got up from my chair, hesitating. “Jo-An - one thing about the auditors. I found the management letter in Kevin’s file cabinet just the other day and read it through. In the reportable condition, they made reference to an independent study. Is this it?” I picked up the manila folder and glanced through the report. “Edgar - hold on a minute.” Jo-An covered the mouthpiece with her hand and looked up at me, impatiently. “Yes, yes, I kept the report after Kevin and I had

discussed it. Like I said, I think the problem has gone away. Just read it and file it.” She dismissed me by turning her back to me. Gene had just gotten up from his nap when I got home, and was sitting in the living room with Flo. Jack poured me a bourbon on ice, and I could see that he and Flo had their drinks in hand also. I stood against the fireplace, as I was too restless to sit down. I wanted to share the cash story with Gene, but we still had to talk over the events of the morning with Flo and Jack. Gene began. “Well, we had a good visit with Metzger. He’s a very comionate and understanding man, but also a very scientific and pragmatic doctor. He was honest with us. Not that my doctor in Hartford wasn’t, but my condition is changing. I’ve known it for several weeks, but have tried my best to keep the symptoms from all of you.” He looked up at me, apologetically. I smiled back, and nodded understandingly. “It seems that walking may become a major effort in the next year. He used a lot of - Claire wrote them down. But my motor skills could become nonexistent by spring if I keep slipping as I have been. I think it makes good sense if we get the stair lift in, and the rooms renovated as soon as possible, to keep your work to a minimum down the road.” He leaned back, obviously tired from this effort. Flo and Jack didn’t have many questions. Jack summed it up. “Not much more than what you told us four months ago, except that the timetable is moving up a bit.” Gene’s reply was blunt. “That’s right. The debilitating part is speeding up, but I could still live a long time, just more of it will be in a helpless state. That’s what we need to plan for. And with the diabetes, well, it just complicates things. Metzger is worried about my kidneys. He’s afraid that in time, what with my high blood pressure and all, the kidneys will fail and they may have to start dialysis. He’s not sure if I’d be a candidate for a transplant. I’m supposed to meet with a nephrologist in the next few weeks so we can start to keep a watch on the kidneys. Damn the diabetes.” He seldom got angry, but I could see his frustration over something he now had little control. There wasn’t much more to say. Flo changed the subject. “Would anyone like something to eat? I have some potato salad, cold ham and rye bread. Let’s have a

sandwich.” Flo tried to be encouraging, but none of us was very hungry. When Gene and I were finally alone upstairs, we lay in bed, our arms around each other. He kissed me on the forehead, and I burst into tears, a whole day’s, or more like four months’, emotions spilling out. I cried, and Gene too, until we fell asleep, neither of us unable to talk anymore that night.

Chapter 4

I drove Gene home to Hartford Saturday morning. He decided it would be better to get home and try to do as much as he could while he was able. sca, our neighbor, promised to look out for him during the week until I came down again for the yard sale the following weekend. During the ride, I told him about JoAn’s latest revelation, the cash discrepancies. Gene jumped into the conversation; he seemed to enjoy discussing business-related problems, as it took his mind off his health and himself. “Did you read the report, then, that Jo-An gave you?” “Yes, when I got up early this morning. You were still asleep. It’s interesting. Non-accusatory, but the auditors basically recommend that we put in foolproof procedures, and soon. The monthly receivables-to-cash reconciliations never seem to balance and are off a couple of thousand dollars each month, with cash being short. Yet we don’t have any students screaming that their s haven’t been posted to correctly.” “But didn’t you say Jo-An thought the problem was resolved? What did she mean by that?” “I don’t know. It was sort of funny. I’m sure it has to do with Kevin. I just don’t know how yet. She was trying to brush me off. Say, how would you like to help me work on the cash procedure? I have so many projects going on right now, I could use the help. And you’d be good at analyzing and writing up something like this.” “Would Jo-An let you hire me?” “Oh, heavens, no. Never. But I don’t mean formally work for us. What if you just do it for me from home? Or we can go into the office on weekends; I think Jo-An is planning a couple of Saturdays away with her mother. And she’s got some seminars scheduled, too. You can spec out our procedure for receiving cash, and work on it at your own pace. But I first need to trace several transactions and review the audit workpapers. Interested?” I was excited, mostly

as it gave Gene a worthwhile project. Gene nodded his agreement. I could tell he was looking forward to being busy. In Hartford, however, I was very sad all weekend, as I walked around our house and yard. We had a lot of good memories here, good health and good times. I knew, more than ever, that this move north was primarily for me, as we knew Gene’s prognosis for a long life was not optimistic. I worried about my job, and Jo-An, and wondered if we were really doing the right thing in moving. Yes, we are, I would fiercely remind myself. Plus, there’s a deposit on our house, and it’s too late to change our minds. I was living between two worlds, and belonging to neither. Sunday morning, out of habit and to see old friends, I went to church. But instead of feeling warm and at home, I felt like a wife and mother who had walked out on her family. I felt like I was betraying Calvary, by cheating on the side with my new friends in Dayville. My loyalties had been tested and the strain of a double life got to me. When I got home from church, Gene was napping. I shut myself in the laundry and cried hopelessly for over an hour, until my face was so swollen and red I didn’t recognize myself in the laundry mirror. Gene found me there around noon. He put his arms around my shoulders, saying nothing, just hugging and rocking me. The tears kept falling from my eyes, but I no longer had the strength to sob. He turned me around and I buried my face in his chest. Gene spoke softly. “Claire, I know, I know. And I understand. If you want to stay here, we can. It might be better. Maybe we acted too quickly and hastily. Maybe we were crazy thinking we could solve our problems by moving. Just say the word.” I took a deep breath. “No, Gene, we need to move. We are good for your folks and they for us. I needed a job change; I was stagnating. Yes, I do feel horribly nostalgic and homesick right now. I probably shouldn’t have come back this weekend, or to see old friends. It was too much.” I kissed him. “Look, how about my making some lunch for you? I need to wash my face, and then I think I’ll start back to Vermont.” “Don’t bother to fix anything for me, unless you want something, but I don’t think you do.” He gently put his hands on my damp face and looked at me closely. “You may feel more like supper when you get back to Mom’s. Anyway,

while you were in church, sca called. She had to go into her lab at the hospital today, but when she gets home later, she’s invited me over for supper. She hopes you don’t mind. She said next weekend we could really socialize after the yard sale.” “Oh, Gene, bless her. Tell her thank you.” We had had many, wonderful dinners and parties with sca and her friends and relatives from Europe over the years, and we watched out for each other, as neighbors and friends. sca was divorced, in her early sixties, and due to retire soon. She was talking about moving back to Europe. We were always devastated at the thought of losing her. Now I knew how she felt at the thought of losing us first. I left soon, and the drive to Dayville took about four hours. Gene knew I didn’t like to text or talk while I drove, so I texted him from the halfway point. I was glad the rest area outside of Putney wasn’t too crowded, as my face was still puffy. I kept my sunglasses on even though the afternoon was overcast. I knew Gene would have called his folks when I left, and again as he heard from me, and sure enough, they were watching for me. Well, not obviously watching, but I could tell by the formal way they were sitting in the living room, pretending to be reading. When I walked in the door, they were too nonchalant with their Hello’s. And the plate of cheese and crackers on the coffee table was untouched, so I knew they had made them for me. Although I realized Gene must have told them how I was feeling, somehow it didn’t upset me. I went over and hugged Flo. She looked at me carefully. “Hi, honey. How was the drive up?” “It was fine. When did Gene call?” I reached for a cracker, being real cool. Flo was taken by surprise. Jack chuckled. “Can’t fool you, can we? About five minutes after you left your driveway in Connecticut. He was worried about you.” Jack paused. “Can I make you a drink?” “Jack, you’re reading my mind. Same as yours, the usual.” I collapsed into one of the big comfortable chairs and shut my eyes. I felt Flo’s hands on my shoulders, and looked up. “Just sit there awhile, hon. We know. It’s been a lot for us, too, and we know what you’re going through. We’ve been there, ourselves.” She glanced at the

framed photo of Gene’s brother in high school, and her eyes misted over. I felt so safe and warm with Flo and Jack. By the time we’d finished our drinks, I was ready for supper. After calling Gene at sca’s, and talking to both of them, I was even more reassured that everything was all right. Then, Flo, Jack and I sat around the kitchen table, enjoying homemade chicken potpie, salad, peach cobbler and conversation until dark. It was wonderful falling asleep that night, wrapped in my quilt cocoon, and renewed for whatever lay ahead. The following day, I was refreshed and in my office by seven thirty. Lydia and I were working on the first month’s billing statements, and getting the information entered into the computer for those students who had paid on arrival. Because there was so much data, with paperwork was all over the place, mostly from JoAn’s erratic interventions, I was helping Lydia. The project took most of the morning before we were comfortable with running a preliminary aging to review. I still hadn’t found time to talk with Lydia about the cash but planned to as soon as we had a free moment that afternoon. From Lydia’s door, and where I was sitting, I could see Winifred’s back and part of the lobby. I had also seen Jo-An running in and out of her office all morning. About eleven, as she ran by again, Jo-An called to Winifred. “Winifred! I’ll be with Edgar going over these revised menus. You can page me if I get any calls. I have my cell phone on mute.” We had an all-campus paging system that was only to be used by staff for important calls, emergencies, and never after six p.m. or before eight a.m. However, Jo-An seemed to enjoy hearing herself paged. About ten minutes later, I could hear Winifred on the phone, her back to the rear door. The number of phone calls had certainly picked up since school was in full swing. About that time, I saw Jo-An go running back into her office, and soon heard the clicking of her computer keyboard. More changes to Edgar’s menus, I thought. Just then, I saw a tall, dark-haired man walk up to the front desk. He moved to one side, so I could no longer see or hear him. But within seconds, I heard Winifred paging. “Jo-An Senecal. Please call the switchboard. Jo-An, please call the front desk.” I winced. I knew what was coming. Jo-An tore out of her office, face blazing

red, and screamed at Winifred. “Why on earth are you paging me, Winifred, when I am sitting right there in my office working?” Winifred turned around to look at Jo-An, whose back was to me. I could see the visitor now, in the far corner of the lobby. Unfortunately, he could hear this, too. Jo-An continued, savagely berating poor Winifred. “You know we do not use the paging system frivolously. You must start to use better judgment.” She paused to catch her breath. Winifred spoke up. “But Jo-An. I didn’t know you were back here. You just left, and said you were going to…” Jo-An cut her off. “I don’t want to listen to your excuses. I’m sick of them. What did you want me for, anyway?” Winifred responded calmly and politely. “There’s a gentleman here to see you. A Mr. Christopher Dusoe. He’s over there, in the lobby.” Winifred turned back to her desk, and I couldn’t see her anymore from where I sat. Jo-An didn’t seem to be aware, or care, that a stranger had overheard her tirade. She strode right out into the lobby, hand extended. “Mr. Dusoe? I’m Jo-An Senecal. How do you do? What can we do for you?” I couldn’t hear Dusoe’s reply, but within a few seconds, Jo-An was leading the way into her office. She had a strange expression on her face. I heard her close her office door. I quickly went out to see Winifred. “I heard that whole conversation, Winifred. If anything ever comes of it in your review, I can vouch for what you did.” “It’s no big deal, Claire. I’m used to it. Plus, Jo-An has probably forgotten all about it.” “Well, in any case, there was no excuse for her lack of professionalism. I was shocked. And in front of a stranger. Isn’t she embarrassed?” “I’ve known her longer than you have, Claire. No, she isn’t embarrassed, because she has no idea how she is perceived. I think she actually believes this is how the whole world operates.” “Not me. By the way, who was that man?”

“He is handsome, isn’t he? He has the most beautiful brown eyes of anyone I’ve ever met. So gentle and soft.” “Winifred! Now you shock me!” I feigned prudishness, glad to have some levity back in the conversation. Winifred laughed. “His name is Christopher Dusoe, and I have no idea what he does. Maybe sells kitchen appliances. Jo-An could get into that.” We started giggling. “Winifred, I wanted to ask you something, but…” I was still laughing. “Ok, let me get serious again.” I tried to wipe the smirk off my face. The switchboard monitor lit up with a call. Winifred managed to field the call without laughing. As soon as she disconnected, however, we both started giggling all over again. Finally, Winifred, with tears running down her face, said, “It is so nice to be able to laugh with someone again.” “Thanks. I needed this too. But that was sort of my question. You liked Kevin, and from what I hear, he was a good guy. Have you kept in touch with him? Would you know how or where I could reach him? I have some questions I wanted to ask him about the job and things.” “No, I’m sorry, Claire. No one has heard from him. There was a personnel folder on him in Jo-An’s office - we each have one - but when I was doing some filing in there for her one day, I noticed that his wasn’t in the drawer. I think he had a mother out West or somewhere. Maybe Lydia has something in the payroll records for a relative’s phone number? You might start there.” Mr. Dusoe was in Jo-An’s office for over an hour. When I returned from lunch, I whispered to Winifred, “Maybe he’s demonstrating a new line of electric mixers.” We started giggling all over again. Lydia, having missed the first part of the conversation, just shook her head. But I could see she was smiling. Not too many people smiled here. They all walked around stern-faced, like Ethan Allen in his portrait. The door finally opened. I was back in my own office now, and I kept my head down as they walked by. Jo-An must have walked him to the front door, because she was gone a few minutes. When she returned, she stood by the copier for a

few seconds, just staring at the wall. I was dying of curiosity, but didn’t want her to see it. I finally looked up, feigning surprise. “Jo-An? Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if you were free. I had some questions on the student database you asked me to set up. I was wondering if you could spare a couple of minutes.” I used my all-business voice, professional and to the point. Jo-An turned, and came into my office. She wasn’t quite herself, but I didn’t know her well enough to figure out why. She seemed a little subdued as she sat down, and reaching backwards, shut my door. She spoke quietly, and volunteered what I was dying to know. “That man who was here? The one who just left? He’s a private investigator.” “Really?” I replied. This was something different. Better than kitchen appliances, I thought. I tried not to smile. “Is there a problem with one of the students?” “No.” Jo-An’s confidence seemed to be returning as she talked. “It seems Kevin, the person you replaced, never arrived in California after he left here in July. One of his friends has hired an investigator to find him.” She made a face as she spoke the word “friends.” “Wow.” I paused, as I didn’t want to seem too interested. “So what did this guy want to know?” Jo-An looked at me funny. “He wants to talk to the staff. I told him there was no need. Kevin worked for me, and I have his files.” “Did he want to see them? The files, I mean.” “I told him classes just started and I can’t find anything right now. He said he was going to be in town for a while and would come back. In the meantime, I gave him a list of staff names, and I wrote down times that would be good for folks to talk with him. Obviously, I’m not going to pull mentors out of classes for this.” “What about me?” I was looking at the list Jo-An handed me, as I didn’t see my name.

Jo-An stood up. “There’s no need for you to talk to him. You didn’t know Kevin. I’ve got to go hand these out to staff. Dusoe will be back tomorrow at ten for the first meeting. I think I’m going to group two or three people together. We can’t tie up the whole day doing this.” She was at once her old feisty self, and opened my door with renewed vigor. “I’m leaving for a meeting in Burlington and probably won’t be back today. See you in the morning.” She strode into her office, grabbed her purse, and marched out the front door, calling out to Winifred that she would be back in the morning. She was right, I thought. There was no reason for me to be on the schedule. I guess I was just nosy, or maybe feeling left out. I decided now was a good time to talk with Lydia. Lydia was filing when I entered her office. “Getting things caught up?” “Yes, finally.” Lydia replied. “Can you take a few minutes to talk with me about the audit? Jo-An has left for the day, and I wanted to go over a few things with you.” Lydia stopped filing, and walked over to her desk. She appeared a little nervous. “What things?” I sat down in her visitor’s chair and made myself comfortable. “Jo-An gave me a copy of the auditor’s comments on cash. Specifically, that cash was not reconciled properly to the s receivable, resulting in quite a large variance at year-end. The auditors felt, at this point, that the cause could be from lack of documented procedures and sound reconciliations. They stated the issue as a reportable condition, and Jo-An has assured them, and the Board, that the problem has resolved itself. It’s my job to make sure it has. What do you know about the cash problem? And do you have written procedures that you follow? Did Kevin discuss this with you at all?” Lydia hesitated a second. “Well, first of all, I didn’t know what they meant when they first asked the question. I thought they were talking about petty cash, or what we had in the safe for cashing checks, or day-to-day operations, which I prove out every month. I had never reconciled anything else. At first, when the auditor brought this to our attention, I think Jo-An thought it was petty cash, too. Kevin didn’t, though. Or I don’t think he did. During the entire audit, he just got angrier and would keep going in to talk with Jo-An, and she’d just scream at

him. I could hear them even through closed doors.” She paused, seeming unsure of herself. “I read the audit comments, and the problem is, the amount of cash that was applied to the students’ s is greater than the actual cash that was deposited to the bank during last year. How can that be? You have batch transactions that you post to the s that have to match the deposits you sent to the bank. So the cash has to agree.” Lydia continued. “That was the problem. Our procedure was acceptable. In theory, everything should tie out. They argued this with Jo-An for weeks. I wasn’t brought into it until near the end of the audit, in March, and by then, no one had time to go through everything from last year line by line as we were getting near the end of the school year.” “Well, that’s exactly what I think we should do, don’t you? I know we hardly have the time, but I think I can find time to work on it nights. What I’d like you to do, Lydia, is bring me all the files from last year that the auditors reviewed, plus the receivables and cash since they left.” This is what Gene can do for us, I thought to myself. As soon as he gets back from Connecticut, we can start working on this at home. “I assume you haven’t been reconciling anything since then?” Lydia shook her head in the negative. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to. Kevin did all of that.” “Ok, tomorrow let’s go through the cash receipts step-by-step, so I can get a feel for how the transactions flow. Oh, and one more thing. Do you have any personnel records on Kevin? I wanted to get in touch with him, and was looking for a phone number or a relative.” Even with the recent information from Jo-An about Kevin being missing, I was still curious what we might have in our files. And, I didn’t want to let on to Lydia what Jo-An had shared with me, although I was sure word would spread quickly once the staff had their meetings with Mr. Dusoe. “Jo-An has all the hard copy personnel files. But let’s see what’s in the system.” She turned to her computer, and brought up the payroll records. “Hmm - let’s see. Jo-An originally wanted me to set up a complete data base for human resources. She went great guns for a couple of days, and then dropped the

project. So for some of the staff, I have personal info in here, like phone numbers, relatives, auto registration - that’s another story - she wanted to issue parking stickers to all of us, but Roland talked her out of it - too few people for the effort, he said. Here we are… Nope, nothing on Kevin. That’s funny, though, because I was sure we had done the beginning of the alphabet. As a matter of fact, I putting a phone number in here. It was a San Francisco area code, and I thinking, wouldn’t Jo-An get upset if she ever had to call there?” “Why isn’t the number in there now, Lydia? How could it have been deleted? Did Jo-An make a habit of deleting info on terminated employees? By the way, who else has access to the system?” “Well, you, Jo-An and I do. To the ing software anyway. And anyone else Jo-An might log onto for them to do a project. She’s had Ellen and Laura working on things for her. But that might be in Word or spreadsheets, or something she ed into Excel. I can’t imagine she’d let them in our software. And that’s protected.” Another dead end. At least we could start work on the audit issues. I made another mental note to review who had access to the various programs. The following morning, Chris Dusoe showed up right at ten o’clock. Winifred had strict orders to call Jo-An immediately upon his arrival, who formally ushered him into the conference room. I was amused watching Jo-An orchestrate the appointments, calling each staff member in turn, making sure they were on time. I noticed Jo-An spent little time in her office that day; I learned from Winifred that as soon as one mentor was finished in the conference room and JoAn had ushered in the next, Jo-An would run after the former and get the full investigative re-hash. According to Winifred, it always drove Jo-An crazy when she wasn’t part of everything going on, and she would go to any length to get every crumb of information. When I went home at five o’clock, Dusoe was still in the conference room, this time with Roland. Dusoe was, according to Jo-An’s schedule, supposed to be done by three o’clock. But for the twelve-thirty appointment, Jo-An had combined three mentors to meet with him over lunch, as a group meeting. One of these was Edgar who, upon bringing in the lunch trays, was told by Dusoe that only one lunch was necessary, Edgar’s. He, Dusoe, wasn’t eating lunch, and

the other two people would just have to wait their turn until he was done with Edgar. Jo-An ran into Edgar as he was hurriedly returning the trays to the Commons. I was coming back from the ladies’ room and overheard Jo-An’s outburst. “What?” she screamed at Edgar. “He told you only one at a time? What right does he have upsetting the schedule of our school?” She flung open the door to the conference room, and slammed it behind her. Poor Edgar looked so confused as he stacked the trays on the cart and headed down the hall. Ellen and Sherry showed up just then for their meeting. “Ellen, Sherry, I think you’d better wait here until Jo-An gets done with Dusoe.” I nodded towards the closed door. Just then, the door opened and we all stood face-to-face with Jo-An. Past her, I could see Dusoe standing behind his chair. He had only a pad of paper and a worn, brown briefcase on the table. He was watching Jo-An’s back, and for an instance, glanced at me, then down at the table, a humbled look on his face. I knew instinctively that Jo-An had won this round. “Where’s Edgar?” She looked down the hall. Before any of us could speak, she answered herself. “OK, OK, we’re wasting time. Ellen and Sherry, go on in and meet Mr. Dusoe. Claire, call the Commons and have Edgar bring the trays back for Ellen and Sherry. Tell Edgar he can eat with me in my office, and I’ll eat Dusoe’s lunch. Edgar’s appointment will follow theirs.” She nodded in Ellen’s direction, and ran off towards her office, very pleased with her victory. It wasn’t until the next morning I learned that the last interview went until seven thirty. According to Laura, Dusoe seemed to take longer with the afternoon mentors. Score one for Dusoe, I thought. We didn’t see Dusoe again that week on the campus, and Jo-An didn’t talk about him again. I had practically forgotten about him, when on Thursday night, I stopped at Hank’s store in Dayville on my way home. Flo usually went into Burlington about every two weeks to do a major shopping, but for bread, milk, newspapers and typical convenience store fare, we shopped at Hank’s, where Sally worked. Anyway, shopping at Hank’s was a social occasion, and she stayed open until six, so I had plenty of time after work. I was picking over some crates of just-harvested apples when I felt someone staring at me from the other side of the wooden apple crates. It was Mr. Dusoe.

“Hi!” His hello was friendly and warm. He obviously recognized me. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced, but I saw you at the Academy. My name is Chris Dusoe.” He offered his hand across the Cortland’s. I shook it, noticing he had a nice smile. “I’m Claire Phillips, and I wasn’t on your list of people to talk with.” What a stupid thing to say, I thought. I immediately felt embarrassed, and blushed. Dusoe threw his head back and laughed an incredibly spontaneous, genuine laugh. “Well, you certainly cut right to the chase.” He came around the crates to where I was standing, still sorting through the apples, and not daring to look up again. I knew I was going to end up talking to him, I could just sense it, but I didn’t want Jo-An to find out or think I had encouraged him in anyway. He looked at the three apples in my basket. “Only three? When there are four of you in your house?” I guess the look on my face showed total shock, because that’s what I felt. Suddenly, the fact that this total stranger knew all about me made me very angry. “How do you know that? What right do you have snooping into my private life? You haven’t even met me yet. I can’t believe….” Dusoe cut me off, politely but firmly. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Phillips. I didn’t mean to offend you. Just doing my job.” I was furious. When I get angry, my face gets red, and I breathe fast. I could feel my chest rising and falling faster than normal. Grasping my purchases, I ran over to Sally at the cash . She looked at me oddly. “Are you all right, Claire?” I just nodded, and she rang up the groceries. I didn’t look at her, but paid quickly and ran out of the store. Dusoe caught up with me at the car. “Mrs. Phillips, please, just give me two minutes to say I’m sorry. You’re the only one at the Academy I believe I can talk to without some wall or roadblock being thrown up to sidetrack me.” I hesitated as I was putting the groceries in the car. Something he said caught my attention. Maybe because he had played on my sympathy about being the only one who could help him, or perhaps it was the comment about the roadblock. This intrigued me, as I had not been privy to any of the mentors’ conversations and had no idea what had been discussed in the interviews. “All right, Dusoe,

you win.” I sighed, and leaned against my car. “I apologize for reacting so strongly to what you seem to know about my private life. But I felt so violated, and you took me by surprise.” I waited, wanting to see how he’d answer this. “I’ll be honest with you, and I’m not giving you a line here. I seldom show my cards unless it’s going to serve a purpose. When I saw how flustered you got when you introduced yourself, I was afraid you would clam right up and not want to get involved or talk with me. I know the fear of reprisal that surrounds most of the Academy’s staff. So I figured if I could sidetrack you, and even make you angry, we’d get beyond the initial reserve. It was a gamble.” He leaned against the car, no expression on his face. “And what makes you think I won’t get angry again, or still be pissed off enough that I don’t want to talk with you?” I looked right at him, my confidence coming back. “Because, Claire, everyone I’ve talked to in town says you’re the nicest person they’ve ever met. I just don’t think you’re the type to carry a grudge.” It was my turn to burst out laughing. “You are the biggest bull-shitter I’ve ever met. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone dish out lines like that to get what they want.” I wasn’t upset, however. I was actually enjoying this conversation. A few drops of rain plopped onto the roof of my car. Dusoe looked up at the black, billowing clouds piling up in the west. “What I’d really like is to talk with you for just a few minutes. I could use your opinions or impressions, just to corroborate what I’ve already heard from the others and to weed out the irrelevant data. Do you think you could spare me some time?” The rain came down steadier. I slid into the driver’s seat. “Look, there’s no way I’m going to get out of the office to meet you, and you obviously can’t come in to see me. Jo-An would have a fit.” I suddenly felt impetuous. “Look. My inlaws are bowling tonight. If you don’t mind a grilled pork chop and a baked apple, you’re welcome to follow me home and have some dinner.” “Sounds like a deal.” He ran to his car, and practically rode my tail during the fifteen-minute drive to Flo’s. What has gotten into me? I thought as I jumped out of my car in the pouring

rain, and dashed into the open garage at Flo’s. Dusoe was right behind me, removing his lightweight jacket and shaking the water from it. I unlocked the door into the breezeway, and again the door to the kitchen. Chris shook his head, looking confused. “You Vermonters have me completely puzzled. Why do you leave your garage or barn doors wide open for anyone to walk into, but you lock up the house with as many locks and keys as you can find?” I laughed. “I’m not a Vermonter, so I don’t know. But it’s true. The only time Jack closes the garage door is if he’s expecting snow.” I put the groceries on the counter. “I’m going upstairs to change. If you’d like a drink, the bar is in the dining room. And if you’re pouring, I’ll have a bourbon and water with lots of ice. There’s also wine and beer in the refrigerator if you prefer. Help yourself.” “Will your husband be ing us?” Chris was unpacking the groceries. “No, he’s in Connecticut for the week, and I’m surprised you didn’t find that out during your snooping around town. That’s why the three apples.” I couldn’t resist the jab. Chris laughed. “I must be slipping, if I missed an important detail like that. But I did hear that your husband is ill, right?” He stopped laughing, and was very serious. “Why don’t you pour the drinks, and I’ll be right back. I’ll fill you in on everything.” When I came back to the kitchen, Chris not only had our drinks ready, but he had peeled the tops of the apples and was in the process of finding the pork chops in the refrigerator. “My, my,” I said, “You must be hungry.” He grinned. “Well, yes, but I also like to cook. My parents both cooked and taught me a lot. I don’t get much of a chance in this line of work, where I travel all the time, but even when I’m home, it’s more fun to cook with someone.” I ventured a daring question. “Is there a ‘someone’ you like to cook with?” “There was, until last spring.” He stood up, holding the pork chops in their brown paper wrappers. “We were together several years. Not married, but good

friends. She left to go to grad school in Arizona. The time had come, I guess. We parted friends.” He walked over to the counter. “Do you have a pan we could marinate these in?” During dinner, I told Chris the whole story of how we’d come to live in Vermont. I omitted my relationship with Jo-An; there was a part of me that was insecure enough to wonder how much of what I disagreed with Jo-An on, was really my inability to get along with her. Although I had never had a bad performance review in my career, I still wondered if perhaps I had led a sheltered life, working with really nice people, and having great bosses. Maybe I just didn’t have the skills to deal with a slightly more difficult personality like Jo-An’s. Chris must have been reading my mind. “Do you like your job at the Academy?” “Sure. It’s a really nice school, and I have a lot of freedom. Jo-An has been very understanding and sympathetic about Gene’s illness, and she’s very concerned about everyone’s welfare. From what I’ve heard, and witnessed myself, she really bends over backwards to help anyone with a problem.” Chris finished his drink. “What other stories or gossip have you heard from the staff since you’ve been here?” “Gossip? I should think you’d want facts, Chris. And I don’t have any of those.” “Gossip is OK. There are a lot of truths hidden behind rumors. Maybe not directly, but there’s usually an indirect link or connection to something. I listen to everything, because eventually, something will click.” Just then, the kitchen door opened. I hadn’t heard a car, as we had turned on the CD player and the music was rather loud. Flo and Jack entered the dining room. Chris stood up and offered his hand to Jack. I made introductions. “Flo, Jack, this is Chris Dusoe, a private investigator. Chris, my in-laws, Florence and Jack Phillips.” Jack shook Chris’ hand. “So you’re the guy who’s snooping into everyone’s personal lives?” I had gotten used to Jack’s bluntness over the years, but sometimes he could intimidate strangers until they got used to his strange sense of humor.

“Yup, that’s me. A professional snoop.” Chris replied seriously, but with a twinkle in his eye. I interrupted. “Like I told you Monday, Flo, Jo-An didn’t have me on the list to talk to Chris. I ran into him tonight at Hank’s and invited him over to talk here. I just put some coffee on; would you like some? And how was your bowling? And I’m sorry, but we ate two of the pork chops and apples we were going to have tomorrow.” I walked out to the kitchen with Flo. When we came back in, Flo had a suggestion. “Why don’t you and Mr. Dusoe have your coffee in the living room? Jack and I can clean up here.” I protested. “You’re not going to clean up after us!” Flo nodded yes, and gently pushed me into the other room. “You need to finish your conversation and we’d just be in the way. We’ll have our coffee in the kitchen. Don’t worry .” I looked at Chris. “They are so wonderful. Well, as long as they don’t mind cleaning up, I might as well tell you the stories I’ve already heard from the staff.” We had our coffee in the living room, and I told Chris what Winifred and Lydia had already related to me. It was after ten when Chris left. We shook hands in the garage. “You’re not going to shut this door tonight, are you?” Chris asked, pointing to the overhead garage door. I laughed. “Absolutely not. Not until winter.” As Chris got into his car, he reached into his pocket. “Here, take this. It’s my card. There are several numbers on it, including my pager, my cell, my email and my office. Don’t hesitate to call me if you hear of anything that could help.” “But, Chris, I have just one question. Why is Gregory Hill so important to your case? I mean, it’s a long way to California. Kevin could have disappeared anywhere. And maybe he even wanted to disappear.” Chris looked at me oddly. “That’s funny, what you just said about wanting to

disappear. Your boss suggested the same thing.” “Why is that strange? A lot of people want to disappear. You hear about it all the time on the news. And anyway, it seems Kevin was very strung out towards the end, with stress and all from the job. Jo-An was really nasty to him, from what I’ve heard.” I hadn’t told Chris about the cash problem, and I wasn’t sure if JoAn had. I guessed she had not, since Chris hadn’t brought it up, either. “And, from what I heard, and I have to trust you, Claire, not to ever repeat this, that it was just the opposite. Jo-An tried to be real nice to Kevin. When she learned he was gay, she did all she could to make him feel accepted and reaffirmed as part of the staff. She told me, and some of the others alluded to it, that Kevin was going through a difficult time itting his sexual orientation, so to speak, and she was doing all she could to help him. He was the one who was fighting her.” I was surprised to hear this. “Well, I have spoken to only two people who shared the opposite view with me. I guess maybe they were wrong.” “No, Claire, at this point there is no right or wrong. The people you spoke to, were they on my list?” “No, they weren’t.” I hesitated, and Chris must have realized the predicament this was going to put me in. He interrupted. “Well, it’s getting late. Why don’t we just forget about this tonight? If any thoughts or ideas come to you, please call me. Like I said, you are the only neutral or unbiased person I have at the Academy to rely on.” He started the car and turned on the headlights. “Wait! You didn’t answer my question. Why do you think Kevin’s disappearance has anything to do with the Academy?” Chris just smiled. “I have to start someplace. And the best place is where he was last seen. But I’m not concentrating on only the Academy. There are other people in town Kevin knew or was close to. Are you aware of that?” I shook my head. “Well, he was good friends with Seth Ebbeling from First Church, for one, and

Sally, too. Plus, most of the theater group from Burlington.” He put the car in gear. “Thanks again for a wonderful dinner. Next time, I’ll treat.” I stood there, waving goodbye, and wondering why he thought there’d be a next time.

Chapter 5

The next few weeks after my meeting with Chris Dusoe flew by. Our yard sale in Connecticut was a big success, as Gene had done quite a bit of advertising where he used to work, as well as in the newspapers and by word of mouth. We managed to weed out a lot of stuff, but I left most of the selling up to Gene and Louise, as I don’t have the patience for haggling and bartering over five and ten dollar items. sca and I wandered around the yard occasionally, collecting money, but we mostly stayed in the house, where she helped me pack dishes and other items we would be taking with us. The closing on the house was scheduled for the first of November, giving us plenty of time to complete the moving process. Gene returned with me permanently to Vermont after that weekend, not only because he was lonely alone in Hartford, but because I was worried about his being there alone. Plus, I was so busy at work and at church. Pastor Henshaw asked me if I would be willing to take a Sunday School class of third and fourth graders. At first I hesitated, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to commit to the time, but Gene and Flo convinced me it would be a good outlet. And it turned out to be, because the ten children in the class were at that age where the questions they asked, as well as their line of reasoning, were hysterically funny. Like the time I asked if anyone knew what Lent was, and little Eric replied, “It’s the white stuff you find in your pockets.” Those two hours I spent at church each Sunday totally absorbed me, and helped to rest my mind from thoughts of Gene and my job. I had only been practicing with the choir for one week when Seth announced we would start singing every Sunday beginning the end of September. Seth was such a nice person, as were all the choir . I found myself looking forward to Monday nights, and choir practice was turning out to be more fun than I expected. There was a lot of teasing and joking between Seth and us, but we also spent a good hour rehearsing complex choral pieces for Sundays and the Christmas concert, which wasn’t that far away. I kept reminding myself to ask Sally how well she had known Kevin, but the opportunity never arose. Flo also held her yard sale one glorious crisp weekend in October. Gene and I

added a few items to the sale we hadn’t been able to get rid of in Connecticut. Flo had d the sale in all the papers for fifty miles around, as well as putting up posters at Hank’s and other willing stores. I talked about it at work, and wasn’t surprised to see several staff show up. But I was surprised to see JoAn, with Cindy in tow. The yard sale was going strong: there were dozens of cars parked all up our road, and at least three times that many people milling about the lawn, looking over the tables of articles and furniture. Jack and Flo were busy talking with everyone, while Gene was their money collector. Like the lord of the yard sale, he was seated in a beaten old recliner with its stuffing popping out, priced to sell for twenty-five dollars. He was using an ancient aluminum TV tray as a money table. I put my hand on Gene’s shoulder and whispered, “All you need is a TV and a beer and you’d look right at home.” He grinned back at me. I knew he’d tire soon, but he was enjoying being useful as long as he could. Jo-An’s arrival was loud and authoritative. She strode across the lawn toward Gene and me, Cindy lagging behind. “Claire! Hello! I made it!” She looked around at the tables. “But, I think you should really rearrange these tables. They need to face the other way. Let’s see, you can display that bureau better if we move this…” Gene interrupted her abruptly, in his strong, clear voice. “You must be Jo-An.” He rose from his chair. Although I knew this must be an effort for him, he didn’t show it. He also didn’t offer his hand to Jo-An. “I’m Gene Phillips, Claire’s husband.” He kept his eyes focused firmly on Jo-An’s face. Jo-An stood there, speechless for a moment, her hands on the bureau, ready to move it. A half dozen people in our vicinity were watching. Jo-An began to get red in the face, a sign that she was aware all eyes were on her. Her face was already slightly puffy, and her eyes bloodshot and swollen, as if allergies or hay fever were bothering her. Her jeans were too tight, and the roll of flab above the waistband bulged like a bicycle inner tube underneath her blue Irish-knit sweater. I waited for her reply. “Yes, I’m Jo-An.” She looked right at Gene, with pure hatred in her eyes. I knew Gene hadn’t made a friend that day. “Are you sure you should be out here,

working today? A person with your debilitating illness should take it easy. I’m surprised at Claire for letting you do something like this.” She looked condescendingly at me. Gene’s presence gave me courage and I ignored her comments. I nodded towards Cindy. “Gene, this is Cindy Berthiaume, our guidance director. Cindy, Gene.” Gene extended his hand, and Cindy stepped forward and shook it. She smiled briefly, and quickly stepped back behind Jo-An. Gene spoke. “Well, Jo-An, I’m out here today because I want to be. Claire doesn’t tell me how to lead my life, and I don’t tell her how to lead hers.” A customer was headed towards us with a purchase, and Gene turned to greet her. “May I help you?” Jo-An was still boiling. Not too many people dared to shut her off, or interrupt her. To make matters worse, Gene had apparently had the last word. I broke the silence. “Were you looking for any particular items? Cindy, are you or Jo-An collectors of anything? Hummels? Antique furniture? We have some interesting things over by the garage. Come on, I’ll show you.” They stayed for about fifteen minutes, and then disappeared in the crowd. After lunch, as I helped Gene into the house for his nap, I congratulated him on his finesse at conversing with my boss. His reply shocked me. “Look, Claire, she’s the rudest person I’ve ever met. I’m used to working with men, and we never tolerated crap like that. It was time someone put her in her place. I just hope she doesn’t take it out on you, that’s all.” Aside from the yard sale incident, however, the problems at work seemed to have quieted down. Since Chris Dusoe’s visit to the campus, Jo-An had said nothing more about it, nor had the staff discussed it. We were all very busy getting into the swing of the semester, and Lydia and I had our hands full with billings, collections, and internal payroll, as well as my cash study. I had turned up nothing unusual in my analysis of the cash procedures, and when I backtracked to reconcile the last six months, the cash and receivables tied out so far for this year. I gave everything to Gene to review, and concluded that the problem had, indeed, gone away when Kevin left. I was still more than curious about why there had been a problem, but other projects plus Jo-An’s daily

demands kept me too busy to dig into past history. Finally, towards the end of October, I began to have a little breathing room in the job, and decided to get to work again on the computer upgrades, which I had had to put on hold after compiling my initial inventory, and put the cash project on hold. That Wednesday afternoon, I sat in my office, sipping a cup of tea, and reading through my computer notes. Jo-An was running around on campus somewhere. She had been very busy lately with Edgar, as some students were not happy with the meals; and with Ellen, as the student medical files were not complete. Jo-An had been spending a lot of time with Ellen, afternoon and evenings, helping her to straighten out and complete all the student records. Jo-An was anxious to see a master plan of the computer upgrade requirements, so I began typing up the proposal from my collection of notes. When I had finished and printed the three-year plan for the upgrade, I sat back and proofed it. Wow, I thought, this is good. I had put together similar plans in the past, and I drew on that experience to lay out an organized plan, including vendor quotes for hardware and installation. The proposal was easy to read and offered high and low-end options depending on our capital budget for those years. I initialed the final copy, and delivered it to Jo-An’s in-basket, as she liked to see paper copies. I also emailed the file to her. I didn’t see Jo-An the rest of that day, nor the next, as she was at a workshop in Burlington. However, on Friday morning, I was in my office early, preparing financial statements for the Board Meeting. Jo-An came in early, too, stopping in my doorway. “Claire! Good morning! And how are you today?” I looked up and smiled. She seemed to be very relaxed and happy today. “I’m fine, Jo-An, and you? How was the workshop?” “I’m great, and the workshop was wonderful. I’ve got some great ideas to go over with Laura and Sherry. The workshop stressed the importance of non-core offerings, and how to enhance these programs. One of the advantages we have as a private academy is that many of our students come here because of our strong art, music and athletic courses, with which many of the public schools in their states can’t compete. And we’re fortunate to have staff like Sherry, Laura and Francine, who have that extra special drawing card.”

I had learned from Winifred that Sherry, the music teacher, had been a concert cellist in her teens and paid her way through music school. She was married now, with kids of her own, and her husband was a lawyer in Burlington, who played saxophone as a hobby. The Academy was proud to highlight Sherry’s virtuoso credentials in its catalog. The same was true of Laura and Francine. Laura, in her college days, had been named outstanding women’s volleyball player and had been an alternate on the U.S. national team. After reading this in the catalog, I had run into Laura in the staff lounge one morning and asked her how she came to be at Gregory Hill. “Didn’t you know? I graduated from here. Yes, Gregory Hill. I played varsity volleyball and field hockey. Winifred was the coach then.” I must have had an amazed look on my face. “You didn’t know? I was MVP for two straight years, and couldn’t have done it without Winnie. She was head of the phys-ed department here for over twenty years. Winnie and I go way back.” Laura wasn’t the only talented staff member. Francine had won awards in this country and Italy for her original paintings. She ran an art studio in her free time in Essex Jct. We had a very impressive staff, and our students enrolled from around the world to take advantage of the curriculum. Jo-An unlocked the door to her office. “Claire,” she called out. “I read over the computer proposal you wrote. Excellent job!” “Thank you, Jo-An,” I called back. She returned to my doorway. “You know, I was thinking. Let’s present your proposal to the Board Monday, along with everything else we’ve been collecting. It was good of them to skip the September meeting while we got organized here, and just as nice of them to come here to Gregory Hill this month instead of our having to go to Wellesley. Some of them are arriving Sunday night, and are staying in Essex Jct.” She came in and sat down. At times like this, Jo-An was a pleasure to work with, because she was so organized and in control of the agenda. “Why don’t we go over what we’ve already put together for Monday?” I handed her the package of statements and reports, with a nice table of contents and draft narrative. “Excellent.” She briefly glanced through it. I realized she was already losing

interest in our presentation as old business, and was looking for something new to get involved in. “Claire, why don’t we replace a couple of the computers right now? I mean, I have the authority to approve up to ten thousand dollars of purchases at one time, so this wouldn’t be a Board decision. But both you and I are using old PC’s. If we replaced ours now, we could use our old ones in the computer lab. I’ve decided not to dismantle it, but turn it into a tech lab. Why don’t you go ahead and call the cheapest dealer from your quotes, and see how soon we can get set up? In fact, see if they can get out here Monday and start work.” I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to see what she was doing. If her major goals for the year were progressiveness and growth, so far she hadn’t accomplished anything. From what I had observed, she had spent most of the last two months doing other staff’s jobs, like Edgar’s, Ellen’s and Lydia’s. This would be her opportunity to show the Board first-hand some action in-progress. “I’ll call them right away. But, I doubt they have the PC’s we want in stock. And even if they did, they would need to configure them for our network, install software, and so forth before they bring them out.” Jo-An gave me that glassy-eyed stare I ed from my interview with her. “Tell them to work on it this weekend. And if they can’t do it, we’ll find someone who can.” She stood up to leave. “Let me know as soon as you talk with them. I have s with some boards I’m on, and I’ll give someone a call if you have trouble.” As soon as she’d left, I called the first dealer on my list, the one with the best price and seemingly, the best customer service, from the references I had gathered. He was more than receptive to our dilemma, especially when I explained that we had just received Board approval and wanted to proceed as quickly as possible, what with the Board coming in on Monday and all. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to garnish the truth a little, to add a sense of urgency. Steve, the computer salesman, explained that he had one PC in stock that fit our needs, and he could have it ready for Monday. For the second one, he could pick one up over the weekend, and do the actual setup on site here Monday. That way, we’d have both computers. In either case, he’d have to charge us for the labor whether it was done at his office or ours. I agreed, and told him to go ahead, and I’d fax him the purchase order at once. He said he’d see me at eight on Monday.

I wrote up the order, and took it to Jo-An for her signature. She looked at it for a moment, and said, “Do you think we should call the other dealers and see if they can do better than this?” I was dumbfounded. “This was the cheapest proposal I got. You said price came first.” “Yes, yes, but with Monday coming so soon, maybe one of these others has two in stock?” “But it doesn’t make any difference, Jo-An. Steve will have two here on Monday, one ready and the other he’ll do here. The price is the same.” “You don’t seem to understand me, Claire. Find a dealer who can deliver two PC’s already to plug in Monday. And nine o’clock should be ok. There’s no need for them to be here at eight. Now re-do this.” She threw the purchase order back at me. I turned away from her desk, my face burning with frustration. This was not worth getting into a fight over, I thought. Just do what she wants, and smile. I hated myself at that moment. After three phone calls, I found a dealer who could do what Jo-An wanted. I was a little nervous, as the company was new, and I couldn’t get any references on them. When I told Jo-An this, she laughed merrily, and said that we’d be their first reference. I was nervous also, because the computers were a generic brand whose name was unfamiliar to me. I sighed, and called Steve back to apologize and cancel. He was very understanding, hoping we’d be able to do business in the future. I couldn’t wait to go home that Friday evening. The weather had been beautiful all day, with the sky burning a deep blue against the now-bare trees of late October. By the time I left the office, it was spooky dark, and I thought of Halloween next week. Jo-An was planning a big Halloween party at the Academy for Tuesday night, and staff and students were encouraged to dress in costume all day. Halloween here sounded like a lot of fun, especially since Flo had told me we didn’t get any trick-or-treaters at the house because we lived so far away from anyone. I needed to work on a costume this weekend. But first, I needed to stop at Hank’s. Flo had called and needed a couple of things. Plus, it was my turn to make dessert, and I wanted some more apples for an apple crisp.

I was deciding between Macs, Cortlands and Yellow Delicious while Sally was ringing up a customer. “Good-bye now, Gail. And enjoy the weekend at Foxwoods! There won’t be too many nice ones before snow!” Sally closed the cash as the last patron left the store. She looked over at me and laughed, shaking her head. “Do you know Gail? There’s a group of older women - widows, mostly - that go to the casinos in Connecticut just about very weekend. I think Winnie Grant is one of them. Real devoted black-jack players. Or one-armed bandits. Who knows? It’s not for me. Oh, well, how are you doing? Have a rough week?” I laughed. “Why, do I look it?” “No, no. Well, yes, you do look a little tired. Are you in a hurry?” “Not really. Jack was going to be late getting back from Burlington. He had to go pick up some parts for one of the trucks. Flo wanted a couple of things, and I need apples.” I finished filling a bag, found a pint of whipping cream in the cooler, got Flo’s egg noodles for the stroganoff she was making, and came around to the check-out. “Then do you have time for a cup of tea?” I hesitated. This would be a good time to talk to Sally. “Sure.” As Sally rang up the items, she pointed out the hot plate in the back of the store. I poured two cups of Earl Gray, black for me, cream and sugar for Sally. I brought them back to the , where she had bagged up my groceries and pulled up two chairs. I laughed. “You know, we look like the Norman Rockwell paintings of the men sitting around the country store. The pickle barrel, whittling, that sort of thing. Except we need a pipe, or is it a cigar?” “Yeh, I guess we do. Someone ought to make a calendar layout of all those traditional paintings and substitute contemporary women, don’t you think?” We chuckled. “So how is it going, Claire? How’s Gene?” “He’s ok. Gets tired a lot. And he’s helping me with a project for work. That’s unofficial.” I looked at her.

“Oh, I understand. Don’t worry - I know what you’re up against.” “You do?” This was great. I hadn’t been sure how to work Kevin into the conversation. “I mean, what am I up against?” Sally shifted her weight on the folding chair. “Well, you’ve been at Gregory Hill a couple of months now. Jo-An Senecal isn’t the easiest person to work for, from what I’ve heard.” “I am so glad to hear you say this, Sally. I have felt so alone, not having anyone to talk to about her and the whole situation there. I’ve been afraid that if I shared anything with anyone, I might be talking to someone who’s close to her.” “It’s not ‘close’ to that’s the issue. Jo-An buys and sells people’s confidences. Be careful of that, Claire. She has a lot of spies. And not that she would do anything to you, like fire you. She needs you. But she can sure make your life miserable.” “Like she did Kevin’s?” I glanced up over my mug. “Yes.” Sally was quiet. “Did you know him well?” “Very well. We were in the same theater group in Burlington. I’ve always acted, and sung. It wasn’t until Seth came here that I was able to really learn good vocal technique from him. He’s a fabulous teacher. I’d been taking private vocal lessons from Seth for a couple of years now.” From the way her eyes lit up when she talked about Seth, I thought she might be getting more than vocal lessons. “But how did Kevin fit into this?” “Well, right after Kevin was hired at Gregory Hill, he ed our theater. He knew one of the other guys in the group. They had gone to college together in the mid-west, I think, and it was through Kurt that Kevin found us. Anyway, Kevin, for all his ing and analytical background, was a real funny guy and a great talent. So, with the three of us living in Dayville, it was only natural that we would ride together to rehearsals and shows. Seth, Kevin and I.” I encouraged her to continue. “A few weeks ago, I thought I might want to give Kevin a call. There are a few things - work-related - that I wanted to talk with

him about. But then, that Mr. Dusoe showed up and it’s no secret now that Kevin didn’t get to where he was going. Do you have any idea where he was headed when he left here?” Sally finished her tea and set the mug down. “Now that’s interesting. We were doing auditions for a summer show. Something easy, something light. Not overly dramatic, like our season shows. But there was a good male lead role that Kevin wanted. He had never had a lead role, the most being ing, which he was excellent at. But he wanted this. Seth was the music director, and a woman named Holly was the technical director. They both wanted this other guy from North Hero to be the lead. Kevin was pissed. On our way home that last night, I knew that he and Seth had argued earlier, but in the car, they were mostly silent in front of me. It was very uncomfortable. I kept wanting to break in and just say, ‘come on, you guys, get over it.’ But I didn’t, and that was the last time I saw Kevin.” “What do you mean?” “I knew that Kevin was having problems at work. He had talked about it off and on all year. At first it was a joke, then it got more serious. I knew there were problems with the auditors, and Jo-An, and one or two other staff who gave him a hard time. He had kept going on and on about trying to unravel some reconcil.. what’s the word?” “Reconciliations.” “Yeh. When Seth and I picked Kevin up that night for the summer auditions, it was right from work. Kevin hadn’t even gone home yet, and he was in a real upbeat mood for a change. He had a thick brown folder with him that he kept going over in the back seat and mumbling to himself. We kept teasing him about being a workaholic, and he said ‘you would be, too, if you had just solved your audit issue.’ He was really excited. But then, the mood changed on the way back because Kevin lost the lead part. They dropped me off first, and Seth told me later that he then suggested to Kevin they stop at his house - Seth’s - and have some coffee and get this off their chests, which Kevin grudgingly agreed to. Seth explained to him that the decision was not personal, but that Kevin’s voice just did not have the range to handle the part as well as the other guy’s did. Kevin finally agreed, Seth said, and itted that he was just beat from all the work at Gregory Hill and the problems with Jo-An, and how one more thing with her

was going to push him to quit. He had said that landing a part like this at least would have taken his mind off Jo-An. Seth then drove him home, and it was the very next day that Kevin blew up at Jo-An and resigned. It was only a few days later that he was gone. Seth and I were going to take him to dinner, but we never saw him again. He called Seth about two? maybe three days after he’d resigned, told him what had happened, and said he’d hired movers to come pack his stuff. He was moving back in with Jared in Oakland, and had given a two week notice. There was no indication of his leaving earlier than the two week’s.” I looked at my watch. “Sally, I have to run! I’ve got half our supper here. Flo will kill me. Thanks for the tea, and for the gossip.” I jumped up, gathering my bags. “By the way, has Dusoe talked to you?” Sally fidgeted with the tea mugs, and finally looked me in the eye. “Yes, and I didn’t tell him quite everything I told you. Please keep this confidential, will you? See, Jared, Kevin’s friend, had ed us about Kevin’s not arriving in California, and he has kept in touch with us. Seth and me. Jared spent a month last summer in Italy - he teaches foreign languages in Oakland - and wasn’t home when Kevin was supposed to arrive. But when he returned from Europe, there was a notice that the moving company was holding everything in storage as no one had been there to receive the shipment. That’s when Jared called us, concerned. We’d met him a couple of times when he’d been out here to visit Kevin. A real nice guy. After a couple of weeks trying to trace Kevin’s steps ourselves, Jared suggested we hire a detective. He had already filed a missing person report in Oakland but there are so many disappearances every day, the police said, that unless there is evidence of foul play, this isn’t a high priority case. They just figured Kevin went somewhere else. Seth and I went in on the cost of Dusoe with Jared. The only thing we haven’t shared with Dusoe is the argument that night. It might complicate things, ok?” I felt a little guilty about my earlier snide thoughts concerning Seth and Sally. I promised not to say anything about our conversation, said goodnight, and hurried out the door. I had learned more than I’d wanted to for one day. Flo was preparing dinner in the kitchen. “Hi, honey. You look beat. Have a rough day?” I laughed. “When isn’t it a rough day?” I dropped my bags on the kitchen counter. “It started out ok, but ended up weird. Where’s Gene? And Jack?” I

looked into the dining room. “They took a walk out towards the arbor. You can see a lot of stars tonight, and they wanted to take advantage of the opportunity.” Flo hesitated, and turned towards me. “Gene had a rough day, too. I’m sure he’ll give you the details, but he was quite shaky today, and couldn’t hold onto his glass, or fork. He also had trouble walking.” Her voice faltered, and she almost whispered the next sentence. “Jack picked up a wheelchair today. They’re practicing with it now outside. It’s electric and real fancy.” She turned her back to me, and I could tell she was crying. I stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do first. Flo was a private person when it came to herself, and maybe right now she needed to be alone. “Well, I think I’ll go outside and check this out! I’ll be back in a few minutes, and take over getting supper if you and Jack want to go watch the news, ok?” She didn’t answer, so I took that as approval and hurried out the back door. I felt terrible for running out on her, but I wasn’t sure what to do. That night, when we were alone, Gene and I talked more frankly than we had at dinner in front of his folks. The workmen had already started on the stair lift, so that would be helpful when Gene didn’t have to climb stairs any longer. We would also pick up a second, manual wheelchair to use upstairs. Gene expressed his concern over his growing incapacity to dress and bathe himself. “I just can’t do a lot of it anymore, Claire. And it’s so frustrating! I can’t stand this helplessness!” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and tried to slam his fist onto the mattress to punctuate his sentence, but his limp hand just flailed helplessly and flopped onto his thigh. He started to cry, and I was afraid he was going to slip off the edge of the bed. I ran over to him from where I had been standing at the bureau. I sat beside him, slipping my arm around his waist and ing him. I kissed him on the cheek. “I know, I know.” Gene pulled away from me. “No, you don’t know! You have no idea what I feel or what this is like for me! I don’t even want to live if this is what it’s going to be like!” He fell sideways on the bed, sobbing. I jumped up. In all our years of marriage, we had never said things like this to each other. I was devastated. I ran from the room, the hot tears burning my eyes,

and into the bathroom. Shutting the door, I leaned against it, crying so hard my chest hurt and I thought I was going to throw up. After about fifteen minutes, I heard Gene’s voice. “Claire, Claire, please come here. Please, honey.” I came out of the bathroom, sopping my eyes with a tissue. He was standing in our bedroom doorway, holding onto the frame. I looked at his face for a second, and rushed into his arms. We just stood there for a long time, crying and kissing. He tried to apologize, but it wasn’t necessary. We both knew it was the anger and frustration that had made him say those things. We slept long and deep, not waking until mid-morning Saturday. On Sunday, I went to church as usual. I was still numb, and a little emotionally drained from Friday night. But on Saturday, Gene had helped me make my Halloween costume. I had been letting my hair grow, something I hadn’t done since high school, and it was down to my shoulder blades. I didn’t care that it had streaks of gray in it now. By braiding my hair into two long braids, and with headband, feathers, and a long fringed skirt and vest, I decided to be Pocahontas. When I had walked into the room modeling the final outfit, Gene suggested that I should be Pocahontas’ mother instead. I just stared at him for a second, and then collapsed next to him on the sofa in hysterical laughter. Flo and Jack came running into the living room to see what was wrong, and the two of us were lying there, roaring with laughter. So, on Sunday, I sat in church thinking about Gene and what we should do about these emotional swings and the increasing depression. Following church, I escaped out the back door from the choir loft, hoping to get to my car and avoid any socializing. I just wasn’t in the mood to be friendly. Seth was still playing the postlude, when suddenly I felt a hand on my arm. I turned around, face to face with Denise Henshaw. “Hi, Claire. How are you this morning? I wanted to ask you about Gene and if everything is going ok.” I was completely taken my surprise. My mind wanted to ask her how she was doing, as it was obvious she was about due to have her baby. But my mouth wasn’t listening. I blurted out everything. “Oh, Denise, it’s just been horrible. I mean, Dr. Metzger is wonderful, but the

news isn’t, and Gene’s moods and adjustment isn’t, and..” I started to cry. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Come on into David’s study. We can talk there.” She led me into a private room at the back of the church, and shut the door. By the time I left, an hour later, I was feeling much better. Denise had given me a little insight into caring for the chronically and terminally ill, and had invited Gene and me over for coffee Thursday evening. I promised her we would be there. She also had the names of some wonderful groups, and assured me she would work this into the conversation in the most tactful way. On Monday morning, I slipped out of bed quietly. Gene, however, was awake, and took my arm. “Good luck today.” He kissed me. “Thanks, Gene. I didn’t want to wake you.” “I couldn’t sleep, and I know you didn’t. Try not to be too nervous. I know it’s your first Board meeting, but just , you’ve already met these people once, and they like you. And, you’re good at what you do. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.” I hugged him, and knew he was right. He was my strength. At nine o’clock, the computer technician, Allan, showed up. He had both PC’s, but had forgotten one of the monitors. We would have to use one of our old ones for the time being. Jo-An was flitting in and out of the offices, arranging for coffee and Danish for the Board meeting, paging Roland because there weren’t enough chairs in the conference room, and to get more from storage, and calling Edgar because paper cups were not acceptable for this meeting, only the good china. As I watched, and assisted Allan, I realized this might be one of the first installations he’d done. When he fumbled with the internal network card, I offered to get my toolkit with the little screwdrivers and pliers. Allan laughed nervously. “You have a toolkit?” I brought it in to Jo-An’s office where he was setting up her new PC. “Sure. There’s always something that needs tightening or replacing. Here.” I gave him the screwdriver. “So, what other clients do you have in this area?”

He hesitated. “Well, none right now. You’re the first.” I felt sorry for him, and gave a little sigh to myself. Oh, well, Claire, if you can help him out, so be it. “You know what, Allan? I’ve been watching you with this one. Why don’t I take the one for my office and work along side you? That way, I’ll have a better idea of how these go together. But I can only help until ten. Then I have a meeting.” I was getting butterflies about the meeting, but I felt better if I kept busy. Around nine-thirty, Winifred poked her head in the door briefly to inform me that board had started arriving and were wandering around the buildings. Two of them, Williams and Carboni, were in the conference room having a closed door meeting with Jo-An. I decided it was time to get my final notes together. I wished Allan good luck, and told him I’d be back in about an hour. The meeting was fine. The Board had its own printed agenda, and followed it closely. Unlike staff meetings with Jo-An that wandered all over the place, the Board seemed effective, organized and in sync with the issues at hand. The president of the board, Mr. Williams, introduced me formally at the outset, as it had been several months since I had met this group in Wellesley, and when it came time to make the financial presentation, he turned to me. Before I could even open my mouth to begin, Jo-An jumped right into the conversation and began talking about the financial results for the last two months. And, to make matters worse, she didn’t even follow the format I had gone over with her, but she leaped verbally from one issue to the next, drawing no conclusions and leaving everyone slightly confused. Finally, after about ten minutes of running on without even taking a breath, Jo-An paused, only for a second, to find an overhead in the package that she wanted to put up on the screen. Williams took advantage of this break to speak. “Thank you, Jo-An. Claire, do you have anything to add?” He looked at me, sympathetically, I thought. “No, I think Jo-An has covered everything nicely.” I looked up at Jo-An, who was smiled broadly at everyone around the room. As Jo-An continued with her overhead, I glanced around the table. I noticed one woman, a doctor from Springfield, was fingering the floral design on her coffee

cup. Another woman, a professor from Boston, was staring at Mr. Williams across the table, who was acutely avoiding her eyes and focusing only on Jo-An. And the lawyer from Woonsocket, Mr. Carboni, had been staring down at his financial package for the last ten minutes without turning a page. What a strange group, I thought. There’s more going on behind the scenes here than I know. I couldn’t wait to get out of the room. Finally, Jo-An finished the financials, and the Board thanked me for coming. I was excused, and thanking them graciously for the opportunity to attend the meeting, I escaped to my office. “How did it go?” Winifred turned around from her desk when she heard the door open. “Really weird. I never got a word in edgewise. Jo-An did all the talking.” “That’s what she does with everyone, and Kevin couldn’t stand it. What did you do?” “What could I do? Tell her to shut up? That’s what I wanted to say. Instead, I just sat there, like a fool. Oh, well, if I’m a fool, then so is the Board.” I turned, ing Allan, and wanting to see how he was making out. Winifred stopped me. “Just a minute, Claire. You had a phone call while you were in the meeting. I put it through to your voice mail.” She lowered her voice. “I think it was that nice Mr. Dusoe.” “Thank you, Winifred.” I looked into Jo-An’s office to where the computer tech was working. “How’s it going, Allan?” “Pretty good, Claire. I think I’ve got all the server connections. I’m just about ready to test this one.” “I’ll be right there, as soon as I check my messages.” I dialed my phone mail.

“Hello, Claire. This is Chris Dusoe. Sorry I’ve missed you, and I’m between flights, so don’t try to get back to me today. There’s nothing urgent, anyway. I

was just following up, to see how things are going. By the way, I was in Boston the other day and had the occasion to talk with one of your board . Give me a call. I should be in my office all day Friday. Hope to hear from you.”

I erased the message, and sat down in my chair. Picking up my phone, I dialed 0. “Winifred, it’s Claire. When Mr. Dusoe called, what did he say? Don’t talk too loud, ok?” I added, cautioning her in case anyone was in the reception area. “Well, he asked for you, and when I said you were in a meeting, he said, ‘oh, that’s right,’ and asked for your voice mail.” “Thank you, Winifred. You’re wonderful.” I hung up, and leaned back, thinking. Chris knew, then, that I would be in this meeting at ten o’clock, so he didn’t really want to talk with me. He wanted to leave a message, and one that baited me by making me wonder why he had spoken with a board member. And which one. Then, I ed what Winifred had told me earlier: that two of the board were behind closed doors with Jo-An. Maybe it had nothing to do with Chris, but I couldn’t help but think that Chris’ investigation had led him to talk with Williams. Wait, I thought. I picked up the phone again. “Winifred. One more question. Which board member was it who originally recommended Kevin for the position here?” “It was Arthur Williams, Claire. He had lived in L.A. for several years and had worked with Kevin before. Why do you ask?” “Just curious. Thanks.” Maybe I was feeling just a little smug, but I decided I didn’t need to call Chris back on Friday just to have him tell me something I had already figured out. Allan had done a pretty good job with Jo-An’s computer, even though it had taken most of the morning. He connected the network cable to the wall, turned on the computer, and sure enough, it was live. Jo-An now had a state-of-the-art high speed computer with the latest operating systems and software. “Ready to finish yours?” he asked. We carried my PC into my office, and I quickly cleared my desk, leaving only enough space for the new PC to sit next to the old one while we worked on it. By

two o’clock, we were done, and now I had a brand new computer. The only problem we had was in recognizing the old printers in the set-ups. Some of our old dot-matrix generic printers didn’t even exist in the software drivers. I sighed. “Time to get new laser printers, huh?” Allan was packing up his equipment. “You know, the best place to get them is at the office warehouse stores. Just get the cheapest laser they have, but make sure it’s a good brand name, for warranty and service. Make sure it’s a network-ready printer. Or order them on-line. You’ll save money, and be covered for repairs at the same time.” He lowered his voice. “We can get you some other printers even cheaper, but I don’t recommend it. I also noticed, as I was installing the network connections, that you have a lot more s and s than you have employees. I think you need to clean up old stuff. And, if you need help in doing any of this, don’t hesitate to call me. But I think you know what you’re doing.” He smiled. “Thanks, Allan, you’ve been great. And thanks for the hints. I am aware there’s a lot of system clean-up to do.” I walked him to the lobby. “I’ll give you a call when we’re ready to add more PC’s.” Now I wanted to concentrate on putting my office back together, from when I had thrown papers, books, and boxes onto the floor and window sill. I could hear Jo-An saying good-bye’s in the lobby to the board . Around lunch time, the board had adjourned, and while they were waiting for Edgar to set up the conference room for lunch, Jo-An had taken them all on a tour of the buildings, pointing out changes and improvements since their May visit. Thankfully, we were done in her office, but we had left her old computer sitting in the middle of her desk, until I could move it to the new computer lab. I had heard Jo-An joking with the board in her office. “And this is one of our new computers! We are now state-of-the-art! What? Why do I have two pc’s on my desk? Because I’m just so busy, I need one for each hand!” I heard laughter, with Jo-An’s voice rising loudest above them all. When the group walked past my door on their way to lunch, Allan and I just looked up and smiled. So, finally the building was quiet. The three o’clock bell had just rung for the change of classes, and Jo-An had run off somewhere, probably to watch the

girls’ varsity team practice as an excuse to talk with Laura. She’d been doing this quite often the last week or two. I realized, however, that I didn’t like the way my office was arranged, so I decided this would be the best time to move things around. I pushed and wiggled the desk, table and bookcase into different positions. Much better, I thought. I put my old computer on the floor near the door, and positioned the new one just where I wanted it. I had left the desk out about a foot from the wall so I could plug in the power strip when I knew where I wanted it. The power strip had been plugged into a different outlet before, so I got down on my knees, reaching behind the desk. Damn, I thought. The plug won’t go into the outlet. I thought I had it upside down, so I tried again. Nothing. The prongs fit, but the plug wasn’t flush with the plate. I ran my fingers across the plastic plate. Ha! There was hardened paint or putty on the electrical plate. I crawled back out, and got my tool kit from my briefcase. I knew I had to be careful about getting metal into the outlet, so I decided to unscrew the plate and clean it separately. After scraping what appeared to be putty from the plate, I crawled back behind the desk. I noticed that the wall behind the plate was painted the same new color as the wall. That’s funny, I thought. That would mean that Roland had removed the plate when he painted, which he would do, being very meticulous and thorough. But how did the putty get on the plate? And it wasn’t old putty, because it hadn’t yellowed, but was new and white. Then, I ed something Jo-An had told me a few months ago about Kevin making holes in the wall. I thought she had said she had needed to patch things up. I ran my hand lightly across the wall, working it in an arc, widening, until I was standing. I found several rough areas that felt like patches. From a distance, they were not noticeable, because Roland had used a textured paint that gave the walls a bumpy, sand-like appearance. It was very attractive, and covered a lot of flaws at the same time, a plus for old buildings like this one. The putty was from those patches. Now that I was satisfied, I knelt back down to screw the plate back on. But around the outlet opening, the wall was rougher than anywhere else. I was still curious, a trait that often gets me into trouble, Louise reminds me, so using

my screwdriver, I gently pried the heavy vinyl baseboard loose from the wall. The thin baseboard had been glued on, and the glue was already cracking from the dryness in the building, so I didn’t have to pull very much. Behind the vinyl, the wall was streaked with several small reddish-brown stains, almost like someone had splashed some paint there by accident. This was probably the color of the wall before, I thought, as I finished putting the plate back. I shoved my desk up against the baseboard, which helped to hold the vinyl in place until I could get some rubber cement. I stood back, iring my renovations. It had been a tiring day, and I was thinking of going home, when Jo-An burst into the outer office. “Claire!” Jo-An stood in my doorway, a stack of papers in her hand, which she was waving angrily at me. Her face was sweaty and red with rage. “Just what do you think this is? How can you possibly be sending bills to the students that look like this? These statements are impossible to read, they are inaccurate, and we have had nothing but complaints about this. I spent most of this afternoon reviewing these, and even Laura and Ellen agree that they don’t understand them, either. We can lose our accreditation. I can lose my certification. We can be sued. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I was shocked. This was the first I had heard about this subject. I kept my composure, and replied. “Jo-An, I need to see an example of what you’re talking about. I am really sorry, but I do not know of any complaints on the statements. Lydia has received almost all the tuitions in full for the first semester without any problems that I know of. Who, specifically, is complaining?” Jo-An stood with her arms rigid in front of her, her hands planted firmly on the edge of my desk. She was shaking with anger. I was suddenly very afraid of her, and was glad the door was open. Both Sarah and Lydia were within earshot, and I was sure, were listening. Jo-An hesitated for a moment before answering. “My mother doesn’t understand these statements. She worked on them all weekend, and it appears we are double charging for laundry. Here. Look at this one.” She pulled Andrea Jacobson’s bill from the pile and threw it on my desk. I looked at it closely. “What this says, Jo-An, is that Andrea’s parents paid for the first semester in advance. See the credit here?” I pointed to the first line.

“This statement is for the second semester charges. The dates are right here. The reason the laundry charges are on here twice is that they didn’t pay for the second semester yet, because they signed up late, but Andrea was already using the service. We have a note from the Jacobson’s in the file to that effect. There’s no problem. They’ll pay it all at once.” I was furious. It was just starting to sink into my head that Jo-An’s mother was involved in this? Why? “By the way, JoAn, what exactly is your mother doing for us and how can I help her understand these better?” I smiled sweetly. “My mother helps some of the students who live far away with their personal affairs. Or some whose parents don’t speak English too well. But that’s not the issue. I want you and Lydia to pull out every single statement we mailed first semester and review them for accuracy. I want an answer by ten tomorrow. And, I want to know how our software can show payments and billing dates better, or we’ll get something new.” She whirled out of my office and into her own, slamming her door behind her. My face was burning. I pulled myself together, and called Lydia on the phone. “Can you come here a minute, please?” She replied softly. “Be right there. I heard everything.” Lydia confided in me that this subject had come up last spring, and Kevin wouldn’t even deal with it, which had infuriated Jo-An even more. Lydia also explained that Jo-An tried to keep her mother busy, and did have her maintain some student personal s, but that the problem was Mrs. Senecal didn’t understand how to read the statements, and Jo-An just jumped to conclusions. As neither of them understood how debits and credits offset each other, Jo-An would always defend her mother before any of us, Lydia confirmed. I decided it was time to confide in Lydia about the cash issues. “Lydia, was there ever a problem with cash?” Lydia gave me a funny look. “Yes, I guess so. The auditors did a lot of digging around in July, after Kevin left.” “Exactly what were the discrepancies? As much as you know.” “Well, it wasn’t petty cash. We’ve talked about this. It was cash application and the amount of money our receivable system said we collected not agreeing with

the cash in the bank.” I thought for a moment. “That’s a fairly close description to how the auditors worded it. They didn’t identify the problem in any greater detail, except that the discrepancy was in the neighborhood of $80,000-$150,000 for just one fiscal year, and that’s a hefty chunk of change for a private school, especially to write off.” Lydia was quiet for a moment. “Then that might explain why we had to dip into some of the endowment money to cover the payables at year end. I think Jo-An had to get Board approval to cover budget overruns. Just something I heard.” I made a mental note to look through the Board meeting minutes from last year. Winifred might know where Jo-An filed them. “Let’s call it a day, Lydia, and finish this in the morning. I have choir practice tonight and even though I’m tired, I think I need a change of pace.” We locked everything up, and went home before Jo-An had a chance to come out of her office again. I just made it home in time to change and leave for choir. Gene stopped me as I raced through the living room. “Claire! How did it go today? I thought you would have given me a call after the Board meeting.” “Gene, I would have if I’d even had a minute to think about calling you, but I didn’t. Will you still be up when I get home from church?” I looked at him for a moment. He seemed fairly rested. “Oh, I think so. I took a long nap this afternoon.” As I parked my car in front of the church, I saw Sally crossing the street from her store. I walked over to meet her. It was good to listen to her chatter about her day in the store, and I soon forgot my problems, especially when the rest of the group arrived. After rehearsal, as we were putting away our music and disposing of our contraband coffee cups, Seth approached me. “Hi, Claire. How’s it going?”

“OK, how are you?” “Fine. I wanted to let you know how happy we are that you’ve ed us. You have a nice voice, and a strong one, but it’s not just the voice. You’re a good addition to the choir, and to our town. I think I reflect everyone’s feelings on this.” I blushed, and didn’t know what to say. “Why, thank you, Seth. That’s awfully nice. I guess I really needed to hear that today. It’s been a rough day.” I could feel myself getting emotional. “I’m sorry, Claire.” Seth touched my arm. “I picked a bad time. Would you want to see if there’s any of that coffee left downstairs?” He was genuinely concerned. “I was worried, too, because yesterday at church you weren’t yourself and you disappeared rather quickly afterwards.” I shook my head, surprised, too, that Seth had been aware of my mood yesterday. “Thanks, Seth, but no coffee tonight. I promised Gene I’d be right home and have supper with him. Maybe next week.” “Claire, if you ever need to talk, just give me a call. I’ve been there. It might help me, too.” He walked away before I could reply or ask him what he meant.

Chapter 6

Tuesday morning dawned cold and raw. From where I lay in our bed, I could see across the room, and my Halloween costume hanging on the closet door. The last thing I felt like doing today was dres in costume and pretending to have a good time. Last night, when I got home from choir, I didn’t even bother to tell Gene everything that had happened in work. I had limited my story to how JoAn had monopolized the Board meeting, and let it go at that. I was sure Gene was as tired at listening to my tales of woe as I was in living them. But, like the true professional I was, I dressed in costume that day, and even went into work early. Lydia had promised to meet me at eight o’clock. “Lydia, you didn’t dress up today.” I was disappointed, but Lydia was a bit of a loner and kept to herself mostly. “Sorry, Claire. Halloween isn’t one of my fun holidays. But I’m glad you did. You look cute. Let me guess, an over-the-hill Pocahontas?” I laughed. “Real close. How about her mom?” We both laughed. I continued. “I feel confident with the statements we went over last night. Do you? And if so, I’m all for going in and getting this over with as soon as possible with Jo-An.” Lydia nodded agreement. “If anything, we could enhance the note line at the bottom of each page by customizing our comments. It’s just that in the past, we never thought to use that feature in the software. If Jo-An had asked for something like this, we would have done it. And the other feature - the one about choosing to show payment history. We can select that option for any statements we want. If we use that on Jacobson’s, it would show the laundry payment they already made.” “I agree. So, as soon as Jo-An comes in, let’s go see her. I’ll do the talking, if you prefer, and you back me up with detail?” Lydia agreed.

Jo-an arrived shortly after. For all the hype she had made about dressing in costume, I had expected to see a very elaborate and creative costume on Jo-An. Instead, she was wearing a too-tight gray sweatshirt, a pair of old jeans, and a shower cap on her head. She was very cheerful, but in an artificial way. When she said good morning, I looked at her face, and her eyes had bags under them. She seemed very tired. “Jo-An! Nice outfit. Let me guess. A bum?” “No, no, Claire. I’m just one of the students, waking up in the morning.” She giggled a nervous laugh. “And you’re obviously an Indian, right?” “Well, specifically, Pocahontas’ mother.” I smiled, hoping she would see the humor, but of course, didn’t. I continued. “When you’re ready, Jo-An, Lydia and I would like to talk with you about the statements and what we found.” I was all business now. “Come on in, I have a few minutes right now.” She went into her office. She still seemed to be very subdued, considering all the hype she’d put into this “costume” day. I ran into Lydia’s office. “Let’s do it. She’s ready.” We grabbed our pile of papers, and walked, rather meekly, into Jo-An’s office. We, the staff, seldom had meetings in Jo-An’s office, mostly because she was always running around somewhere, meeting with people impromptu at their desks or in the corridors. Her office was rather messy, with piles of papers, boxes of files and other folders lying all over the desk and table. Right now, she had cleared a small area on the small table in the middle of the room, and Lydia and I pulled up chairs and ed her. I noticed, however, that Jo-An had a pile of manila folders in front of her, and she was reading through what appeared to be staff performance reviews. I thought this was indiscreet, especially in front of Lydia, but rude also, because it turned out she only half listened to what we said. I began the meeting. “Jo-An, Lydia and I were very concerned with what you said yesterday, and believe me, we want to make the billing process as easy and painless for everyone. Now,” I picked up the examples she had given me last night, “We reviewed the Jacobson , and we found that everything was stated accurately on the bill. But to make it clearer in the future, we would like to add some lines that the software package offers. We weren’t aware of these

options before, and when we send out the next semester bills, we’d like to review them with you so you can see what they’ll look like.” I was watching Jo-An’s face. She was busy reading Edgar’s last review. I felt myself growing frustrated, but I sat quietly. Eventually, Jo-An spoke. “Well, good. Sounds like you two have things under control. That’s an excellent idea, to add some explanation lines. Let’s come up with a list of comments. And, if there’s ever a time when you don’t have anything to put on there, you can always say, ‘Happy Holidays’ or whatever the occasion!” She laughed at her attempt at humor. “Sure,” I replied. “And, we’re really sorry if this was difficult for your mother to understand.” I had never seen anyone change moods so quickly as what happened next. Jo-An exploded, verbally, and Lydia jumped about a foot out of her chair. “My mother has absolutely nothing to do with this! This issue is a professional one, dealing with the presentation of facts. There is no reason to bring my mother into this discussion!” She slammed Edgar’s open folder closed, and started stacking the remaining folders in a rapid, haphazard fashion. I thought quickly, and interrupted her, pretending to ignore her outburst. “I think that was a wonderful idea, for us to come up with a list of comments to put on the bills. Why don’t we work up a list right now, Lydia, and give you a draft later today, Jo-An? Then, we won’t have to think about it two months from now.” Lydia looked at me in relief. Jo-An was like a balloon that had had the air popped out of it. Only for a second, however. She jumped out of her chair, grabbed the phone, and punched an extension. Without even looking at Lydia and me, or signaling the end of the meeting, she began talking to the voice on the other end. “Marilyn? I’ll be right down. We have plenty of time before George’s first class.” Lydia and I escaped as quickly as we could. Outside my door, however, Winifred motioned to me, waving her hand discreetly at her side. I waited until I was sure Jo-An was out of ear-shot. “What’s up, Winifred? Anything good?” “You’d better believe it. Didn’t Jo-An say anything to you in there?”

“About what? We were meeting on statements.” Winifred continued, excitedly. “Then you really don’t know?” She glanced around, making sure no one was in the lobby. “George was in a car accident last night. Pretty serious, too. He’s in the hospital in Burlington. A concussion, face lacerations, so forth. And his car was badly damaged.” “How did you find this out? No one else seems to know.” But then, I had come in early, and had seen only Lydia so far. “A friend of mine is a nurse at Metro Medical. She called me early this morning. Of course, it’s confidential, so don’t say anything, but….well, George had been drinking. He was pretty loaded when they found him. He smashed into a tree out on the county road. This isn’t the first time, you know. George has a history of things like this.” I sat down in the chair beside Winifred’s desk. “You’ve got to be kidding. This is serious. What has happened before? Anything?” “Not really. I’m not sure, but somehow, George has always come out of it ok. We’ll have to wait and see on this one. My friend said the police had found him, so there’s bound to be some repercussions. Please don’t say anything to anyone, especially that I told you?” “Of course not. Say - what about his classes? Is that what Jo-An meant when she got the call from Marilyn?” “Yup. Jo-An will sub in.” “Winifred, there’s something strange about George. Maybe I just don’t know him very well, but he’s very quiet and just stares at me a lot. I haven’t shared this with anyone, not even my husband, but one day, when I was at the copier, he came up beside me and pressed himself up against me. I moved away real fast.” The look on Winifred’s face told me everything. “Claire, it’s only gossip, about George, but there are some strange stories about him. You’re right in keeping your distance from him. Don’t get me wrong - he’s a wonderful teacher and there have never been any scandals where the girls are concerned. He’s a different person in the classroom. Almost like an actor, putting on a different face. But outside, he’s a little odd.”

Now I was intrigued. “Like what, Winifred? Don’t keep me in suspense.” I needed to get to work, but the story was too good. “Well, as long as I’ve been here, I’ve never met his wife. He has one, but she doesn’t work and never attends parties or school functions with George. Occasionally, someone has seen her shopping in the city, but she stays at home. The rumor is, she drinks. Along with George. I figured that, but it was the other thing that was more prevalent until last night’s episode.” “What was that?” “George was very friendly with Bob. Bob never married, and George used to spend hours at Bob’s house every evening before going home. Sylvia and I and many of the other staff saw his car there at all hours. No problem, it was their business. However, after Bob left, George seemed lost. When Kevin ed us, George started spending a lot of time in this area.” Her eyes glanced around the reception/office areas. “Although Kevin was at least twenty years younger than George, George pestered Kevin all day, hanging out in the doorway between classes, whenever Jo-An wasn’t around to catch him. He was always trying to borrow money from Kevin, too. Kevin did all he could to be busy, shutting his door, not being in his office, anything. Finally, one day, they had a big fight. Kevin shut his door, and from what I could hear through the walls, told George to leave him alone. They were in there quite a while, yelling. George came out of that office red-faced, almost purple, with anger, and never came over here again.” “When did this happen?” “In the spring, just before Easter break.” “Winfred, why do you think George needed money? And do you think he was borrowing from Bob, too?” “That last question, Claire, I can only guess at. But as for the reason, it sounds as if George and his wife have a drinking problem.” Just then, the phone rang, and my chat with Winifred ended for the time being. The rest of the morning was actually rather pleasant. As I walked through the hallways, and around the campus, I was amused and very surprised at the elaborate and creative costumes of the staff and students. The students really got

into this, as they needed this stress-relief during mid-, and it was fun for me to be part of the social interaction. I ed a group of seniors on their way to the bookstore, and ired the various movie theme outfits. There was even a phantom of the opera. I was smiling to myself, when one of the girls pointed to me and said, rather shyly, “Pocahontas!” Just as quickly, her companion blurted out, “No, I think it’s Pocahontas’ mother!” The poor girl immediately blushed. Most of the students didn’t know me as well as the other mentors, as I didn’t have great visibility. As it turned out, I was teaching only one class this semester, which was introduction to business to about twenty advanced students from the junior and senior classes. I was disappointed that I wasn’t teaching more, but JoAn had dragged her feet on deciding which courses to offer, never getting the courses into registration, and so forth, until it was finally too late. Next semester, after I had the lab set up, Jo-An agreed we would expand it and I would teach an economics and basic introduction to Windows class as well. In the meantime, there were only a handful of students who knew me by name, and it was obvious that this group felt they might have insulted me. I turned around, and faced them. “You’re really the only ones so far who figured out who I am. Thank you. And, I’d like to compliment you on your costumes. Very original and tasteful. Celeste, your cape is loose in the back. May I?” I addressed the Phantom of the Opera, whose cape was Velcro-ed to the back of her collar. She nodded, and I reaffixed her cloak. “There,” I said, “The Phantom was an impeccable dresser. Now you do him justice.” They all laughed. “We’ll see you at supper?” They nodded, relieved they hadn’t insulted me, and went into the bookstore. I was staying for dinner this evening, as were most of the staff, because we were going to be judging the students’ costumes. Jo-An had also arranged for entertainment, a local band, for after supper in the gym. The party would go only until nine o’clock, as it was a weeknight. Staff needed to be alert, to watch for alcohol or drugs, which inevitably got smuggled onto the campus, although JoAn vehemently denied ever having a problem at Gregory Hill. But according to Laura, there were always problems whenever we had a party, dance, or social occasion. Jo-An just down-played it so word wouldn’t leak out. But as it was only noon, I sat at my desk, eating my lunch, and thinking about the party, when Jo-An noisily burst through the outer office door, dragging a large cardboard box behind her.

“Claire! Come see what I’ve got! It’s a good thing we’re not dressed in really good clothes today!” Oh, no, I thought. Now what? All I wanted was some peace to do my work. Putting down my half-eaten sandwich, I ed Jo-An behind Winifred’s desk, and peered into the box. The mailing label said “Magnolia Farms.” “Look at all the tulip, daffodil and crocus bulbs, Claire! I completely forgot I ordered these last summer, and they’ve been sitting in Roland’s office for two months. I thought we could take some time and get them all planted today. Roland gave me these.” She held up a half dozen trowels and small shovels. “Isn’t it a little late in the season to be planting bulbs? Some years, I might plant as late as the beginning of November, but that was in Connecticut.” I was thinking about Flo’s garden, where she had already tilled it under and planted a winter rye cover crop. She had also planted her bulbs about two weeks ago. “I think it will be ok. The ground isn’t frozen yet, and we’ve had a mild autumn. At least we won’t have to worry about squirrels or moles doing much damage. Ready? Let’s start out front, and we’ll cover as many beds as we have bulbs for. I was thinking of daffodils around the front steps, with tulips in the beds by the drive.” She began dragging the box back out the door, so I reached down to lift one end. Together, we carried the box outside, and began planting. I wondered how she found the time to plant bulbs if she had to teach science courses, as well. By two o’clock, we had finished planting all the flower beds in the front of the main buildings, and Jo-An decided to put the remaining bulbs in a mass planting outside the Commons. Alongside the driveway that separated the Commons from the maintenance building was the largest flower bed of all, about twenty feet in length and ten feet wide. Over the years, Roland had built up the soil with compost, leaves and peat moss, and had planted several nice seasonal flowering shrubs and evergreens. In the spring, he planted annuals, like marigolds and zinnias, to give added color and variety to the bed. Jo-An and I had just dumped the remaining bulbs into a pile on the lawn, and began digging holes in the dirt, when Heidi came bounding around the corner of the maintenance building. Without warning, the frisky dog leaped into the middle of the bed where I was digging, and in her pretend ferociousness manner, grabbed a daffodil bulb, shook

it furiously, and ran off with it. I sat back on my heels, once I had recovered from the surprise visit, and began to laugh. Jo-An, however, leaped to her feet in anger and began chasing the dog. “Heidi! Get back here! You bad, bad dog! Give me that bulb!” Jo-An began chasing Heidi down the service driveway between the Commons and maintenance, until they disappeared from sight behind the buildings. I began to dig a new, larger hole in the center of the bed, where I could plant a dozen bulbs at once. Heidi had managed to avoid capture by Jo-An, and came racing back around the building, leaping right back into the flower bed. Heidi faced me, barking ferociously, and pawing the dirt as if she wanted me to play. I quickly gathered the unplanted bulbs close to me, but she seemed uninterested in the bulbs now. Instead, she jumped into my half-dug hole, and started digging frantically, the dirt flying out behind her across the lawn. “Heidi!” I yelled. “Knock it off!” I reached out to grab her collar, but she snarled protectively. I drew back. I trusted her, but it was cold and raw in the fading afternoon light of late autumn, and I was getting impatient with Heidi and with this project. Jo-An, still waving her trowel, ran up behind Heidi, and before I realized what she was going to do, smacked the dog across the rump with her shovel. Heidi yelped in surprise and pain, and ran off toward Roland’s office. I was incensed. I had never witnessed anyone hitting an animal before, and I was outraged at her act of anger against a playful dog. “Jo-An, was that really necessary? To hit Heidi?” I tried to remain cool, and confront her professionally, not irrationally. Jo-An was looking for a fight. I could see she was used to having people question her actions, and she was ready with the answers. She usually won, too. “What do you mean? The dog misbehaved. I hit her. What could be simpler than that?” She was very agitated, and couldn’t seem to settle down to planting again. Her adrenalin was flowing, and she was nervously picking at the evergreen needles on the baby blue spruce planted at the edge of the bed. I replied. “I do not believe in hitting animals, Jo-An. Heidi doesn’t know she did anything wrong. She wanted to play. We should have redirected her into playing elsewhere.”

I should have known better than to philosophize with my boss. She had a quick and final word. “Oh, really? Well, I happen to have an extensive behavioral psychology background, and maybe your approach might work with people, but a dog is a dog. I redirected her, and much faster than you would have done by continuing the game with another game. It was time to end it, and that’s what I did.” She picked up the leftover bulbs and the trowels, snatching mine out of my hand, and dumped everything into the cardboard box. “Take this box over to Roland’s office and leave it. I have to help Edgar with the party.” She was gone before I could answer. I didn’t see her the rest of the afternoon, and at dinner in the Commons, I ate with Laura and the other mentors who could stay - Sherry, Marilyn and Francine. Roland had gone home for supper, but would be back later to clean up. Ellen had to get home to her kids, while George and Howard seldom stayed for any extracurricular activities, Laura told me. I asked her why. “Well, George and Howard are as old as these mountains, and started teaching here about the same time that Bob, the former heaster, ed the academy. They both live in Burlington. Howard’s kids have grown up, George never had any, I believe. They just like to get home to their wives, I guess. They are excellent teachers, and the students really love them. Sit in on one of George’s classes sometime. He’s a real character. I wish I had had someone like him to teach me chemistry. He makes it fun, short of blowing up the lab. Of course, he’s out of commission for a week or two. That was too bad about his accident. I heard a deer ran across in front of his car.” I didn’t let on that I knew anything different about George. “Does Jo-An mind that they don’t participate the way we do? I mean, she sort of made it clear when she interviewed me that we are expected to live the job, and be involved with the students.” I was curious how Jo-An interacted with these men. “She leaves them alone. Aside from staff meetings, they do their job and she stays out of their way. I’ve often wondered if she’s a little afraid of them, because they’re older, or in a field she knows little about.” I replied. “I think it’s the latter. I can’t imagine she’s afraid of anyone.” We both laughed. The party and the costume awards were fun. Cindy Berthiaume stuck to Jo-An

throughout the entire evening, and had been invited to eat with her at the class officers’ table. I was curious about Cindy, as she seldom spoke to me, except to say hello. Aside from Lydia and Winifred’s warnings, I hadn’t heard anything else, only observed that the two of them seemed to be close friends. When Laura went up on stage to help Jo-An and Cindy with the prizes, Marilyn Cookson moved into Laura’s vacated chair. “I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk much, Claire. How’s it going? And, I like your costume.” “Thanks, Marilyn. Yours is nice, too. Let me guess, Lady Macbeth?” I was aware that Marilyn was teaching Shakespeare this semester. “Thanks, and yes. If you notice, several of the juniors are wearing Shakespearean costumes and makeup from the theater department. They really get into the roles. It’s interesting. In Shakespeare’s time, men were the actors playing women’s roles as well as their own. At Gregory Hill, we have all girls playing both sexes. We’ve collected some great costumes over the years.” I ired the costumes of Hamlet and King Richard, authentic to Shakespeare’s era, and told Marilyn she should be proud of her students. She thanked me. “You weren’t here last year. Jo-An dressed up as Henry VIII. At first, we didn’t even know it was she, she looked the part so completely.” I smiled to myself, ing the old movie starring Charles Laughton as Henry VIII. “How come you’re available tonight? You don’t have family to go home to?” “I’m divorced, and the man in my life works evenings. But it wouldn’t matter anyway. That’s why I’m divorced.” We laughed. When we were done giggling, Marilyn spoke seriously. “I couldn’t help but notice how you were watching Cindy earlier. May I give you some advice?” “Is this advice different from what I’ve already been given?” “I’m not sure, but you, like I, are in a rather unique position. We are both independent, and know our jobs well enough that we’re not going to let someone else do them for us. Cindy is a good guidance counselor, and a good sociology

teacher. But, every decision she makes is really Jo-An’s decision. Cindy doesn’t sneeze without asking Jo-An’s permission first.” “So what’s your advice?” I was wary. “Be careful in whom you confide. Laura and Cindy will sell their own mothers to stay in good with Jo-An. They tell Jo-An everything. On the other hand, JoAn only tells them what she wants them to know. The sad part is, they aren’t aware that she’s using them.” “So how does it work with you? Isn’t Jo-An using you, too?” “Sure, but I’m just a little smarter. Once Jo-An knows that you’re ing her, and being loyal to her by the quality of the information you give her, you’ll be fine. Things that will make her look good. You’ll find there’s a trade-off. Give her some top-shelf info and she’ll leave you alone for a while… You look surprised.” Marilyn was very blunt. I was shocked. “OK, but aren’t you compromising your values? And why are you telling me this?” “Sure I am, but it’s a matter of survival. I like living up here, in Vermont, and I like this job. In addition, I’m lonely professionally. Of all the mentors, Kevin was probably the only one I was close to, and vice versa. We got along great. We had theater in common; he loved to help with the shows we did here, and I helped with lighting at his shows in Burlington. When Jo-An started really picking on him, towards the end, I could see Kevin giving up. I hope you don’t.” I decided to be politically correct, just in case I couldn’t trust her. “Well, I hope I don’t, either. I have a lot, personally, at stake. But I appreciate your filling me in, Marilyn, and I will be careful.” I turned around to watch Jo-An award the prizes, but I found myself thinking about what Marilyn had said. Her perspective was interesting, that Jo-An had picked on Kevin. What was it that Dusoe had said? That everyone he had interviewed said Jo-An was nice to Kevin. But Marilyn, Winifred, Sally and Lydia told different stories. I sighed. I guessed Marilyn was right. It all depended on what was at stake, and who was kis. The following day, the campus was subdued, compared to the party atmosphere of Halloween. I was glad for the opportunity to get some work done. I was behind in my ing work, helping Lydia reconcile the cash s, and

preparing the ledger for a post-New Year’s audit. Jo-An had informed me right after I started at the Academy, that the Board felt it was prudent to have our auditing firm do a six-month review, especially in light of Kevin’s leaving. I told her, at the time, I didn’t have a problem with that. I still didn’t, except I warned Jo-An only last week that the books weren’t in as good an order as she might think, and I would do my best to straighten them out. This was my immediate project. I was deep into payroll reconciliation when Lydia appeared in my doorway. “Claire? May I ask a question?” She seemed timid. “Of course, and you may even come in and have a seat.” I tried a little humor, but she didn’t smile. She did come in, however, and sat down. “What do you know about Laura’s car?” I stared at Lydia for a second, not making sense out of her question. “What do you mean? I didn’t think she had a car. She gets dropped off by her husband, doesn’t she?” “Not any more. Haven’t you seen the white Subaru? About three years old? You usually park next to it.” I thought for a second. Yes, now that she mentioned it, there did appear to be more white Subaru's than usual in the lot, but I didn’t give it a second thought. “OK, so? What’s that got to do with us?” Lydia handed me a piece of paper, with a note in Jo-An’s handwriting.

‘Lydia - please set up a payroll deduction for Laura Thomas, for $2,500 total, taking $75 per week for the next 33 weeks from her pay. Call it a personal loan. Jo-An, 11/1’

I didn’t want Lydia to see my anger, so I tried to be funny. “At least she dated the memo.” Getting people to initial and date documents had always been one of my

pet peeves. Lydia’s expression didn’t change. “How do you want me to handle this?” I became serious. “OK. The note is from Jo-An, and she has final say on anything, so I don’t think we can question her authority here. But my question to you is, why are we deducting anything from Laura? Did we give her money? Like, $2,500.00?” “Not that I’m aware of, and I write all the checks. Or most of them.” She made a face. “Lydia, would you go get the check book and ? Something is missing here.” Lydia hurried off to her office. When she returned, she had a perplexed look on her face. “Claire, check #2459 is missing from the box, and it isn’t filled in in the . Jo-An must have come in after hours and taken a blank check. She does that occasionally when Roland or Edgar need to buy something on short notice.” “Well, I’ll ask her about the missing check. In the meantime, though, if you have to get payroll going, set up an automatic deduction exclusively for ‘personal loan’ and use it for this amount. Damn. I am angry, Lydia. Not at you, but no one has the right to take checks and not record them.” “And Claire? There’s another issue here. Is it really fair, if this is what Jo-An did, to give a loan from the Academy’s money to a staff member, without offering the rest of us that same benefit?” I knew Lydia had a good point there, but I didn’t comment. This was an issue best left for the audit, which I would document it thoroughly. I was also chicken and didn’t feel like confronting Jo-An on it. “Thanks, Lydia, for letting me know. I’ll take it from here.” As she left my office, I thought, I’d rather be dead than have to deal with this issue. But, I ed what Marilyn had told me the night before. Maybe, just maybe, if I word this right, I can throw Jo-An off the defensive. It worked. Later in the day, I ran into Jo-An in the hall. “Jo-An, got a minute?” She stopped, and smiled. “We got your note about the ‘payroll deduction,’ and it was perfectly clear. The only thing I can’t find to complete my audit trail is the

copy of the original check, number 2459, I think it was. Have you seen it?” I pretended to be confused, but giving her two options to get out of the situation. “Oh, that one. Yes, I think it’s around my office somewhere. I’ll get it to Lydia right away.” “Thanks, Jo-An. Lydia would have a fit if she couldn’t balance her checking this month. We’re all set, then.” I smiled, and Jo-An ran off towards her office. But deep down inside, I was seething. I couldn’t wait to tell Gene about this. Gene had always been my best friend and ally, and I valued his opinions. Even when he was being truthful with me, if it were something where I was wrong, he would tell me, as diplomatically as possible. But because there was nothing vindictive or malicious in our relationship, I didn’t hate him for telling me. I usually hated myself for being short-sighted or weak. With the Jo-An situations, however, Gene was losing his patience. When I had told him about the car loan to Lydia, he was furious. Was I sure it was a loan? “Jo-An found the copy of the check she had written, and Lydia showed it to me later this afternoon. The check was made out to Laura Thomas, for $2,500. On the Academy’s checking . And she’s repaying us through payroll deduction. Couldn’t be clearer, could it?” “No, I guess not. Did you keep copies?” “Well, they’re all in the payroll files, and I made a note of what Lydia and I discussed, about the deduction.” “What was the reason she gave Laura the money?” “According to Lydia, Laura needed a second car because her husband drove to Montpelier every day and it was becoming a hardship. I asked Lydia if anything like this has happened before, and Lydia said no, not just like this, formally with a check and all. But petty cash has never reconciled since Jo-An came here, and she was always taking cash out of the box and not leaving receipts or I.O.U.’s. I’m going to have to change these procedures, too.”

“How can this woman get away with this? I mean, it’s obvious, if you or Lydia told anyone about the personal loan, it would be a breach of confidentiality and you would be terminated. But by whose authority can she play God?” “By the Board’s, I guess. She can authorize checks up to ten thousand dollars, so she was within the Board limits. I guess it’s an ethical issue whether she has the right to give a personal loan to one employee and not another. I mean, what if all twelve staff asked for loans this week? Do you think for one minute she would, out of the kindness of her heart, give them to all of us? No, she would decide who had a greater need, or whom she liked better.” I sat down on the sofa, exhausted. “I can’t think about her any more tonight, Gene.” “That’s fine with me. You brought it up.” I gave him a dirty look. “I’m going to bed. Don’t forget: we’ve been invited to the Henshaw’s for coffee tomorrow night. Seven, ?” Now Gene gave me a dirty look. “Do we have to go?” “We promised, and Denise has been real nice to me. She’s about ready to have the baby, so we can’t put it off, or we’ll never get over there.” The following evening, Gene and I drove over to the parsonage. The white colonial house sat at the opposite end of the town common from First Church. Denise had had a flower bed along the front of the house, but now, the plants were all dead, and the ground bare. As we got out of the car, an eerie full moon flickered in and out from behind some streaks of clouds, illuminating the black, bare trees surrounding the house. I whispered to Gene how much Vermont was suited to being the perfect Halloween location. Once inside, however, my feelings of creepiness left me. Rev. Henshaw was adding another log to the fireplace as Denise ushered us into the sitting room. From the other side of the hall, I could see the larger living room, where they had a Reliant wood-burning stove. Denise had several candles burning on the coffee table, adding to the cozy, warmth of the house. I was glad we had come. David took our coats, and Denise and Gene helped each other get seated on the sofa. Within seconds, the two of them were laughing helplessly, as they realized the humor in their situations. David turned to me.

“Would you like to help me in the kitchen? The coffee is almost ready, if you’d like some.” After a quick tour of the downstairs’ rooms, we went out to the kitchen. Denise had baked an apple cake, and I carried this while David took the tray of coffee and cups. “Are the boys sleeping?” I asked. “They’d better be. It’s been a rough day. I swear they can sense Denise’s anxiety, and we could hardly keep them in check. I’ve rearranged my schedule for the last few weeks so I could have as much time around home as possible. The other clergy in the county, if we were supposed to have meetings, have been so good about coming here instead of my going to the city. And, having the computer, email and texting have been a big help in keeping up with communications.” We set the coffee down. Our visit was fun. We didn’t talk about missionaries, or religion at all, except where it concerned the devil on All Hallows Eve. David was a riot, telling about his trick or treat escapades through the years. Eventually, the conversation came around to computers, and David mentioned a problem he was having with his operating system. Gene spoke up. “Well, that’s Claire’s area of expertise. No need to look any further for a computer tech.” “Now, Gene, don’t go telling people I can fix everything, ’cause I can’t. But, David, I might be able to pinpoint the problem. Can we look at it?” He led me to his study, off the kitchen, a small room, with just two chairs, his desk and computer. It had originally been the pantry. As I booted up his system, and began analyzing the setups, David thanked us for coming to Dayville. “You don’t know how good it is to make new friends. Not that we don’t like our old ones, mind you, but it’s refreshing to see and listen to new people. We don’t get many newcomers to a small town like this. I was talking with Seth the other morning, and he is so happy to have you in the choir. I’m sure you’re aware that our choir is extremely good.”

“Yes, I was aware of that. It’s almost as though they were professionally trained.” “Might as well be. Seth has been with us almost three years, and in that time, we went from a very rustic choir to what we have now. Seth has taught them voice, discipline, music theory. He is immensely happy to have someone with your ability and talent.” “Well, I don’t have that much. But I have sung all my life. Where did Seth come from before coming here?” David paused. “You don’t know the story?” “Oh, dear, everyone I meet lately has a story. No, I guess I don’t know it.” I had found the problem. “You haven’t done your upgrades. I’m going to run them now. It shouldn’t take very long.” I started the upgrade, as David filled me in. “Seth lived in Pennsylvania, with his wife and daughter. He was teaching college theater and music, and his wife taught elementary school. Michele, their daughter, was four. His wife was driving home one night after picking Michele up at day care, and skidded on a patch of ice. She hit a tree, and they were both killed instantly.” I looked up at David, speechless. I ed what Seth had said to me about sadness and grief, and having been there, or something to that effect. I felt terrible, for not knowing or understanding at the time. David spoke. “Claire, are you all right? You look funny.” “Your story took me by surprise. I had no idea. Seth said something to me the other night that didn’t make sense at the time, but it does now. How awful for him. How did he come to find Dayville?” “Through the church. He was a part-time music director also in Pennsylvania. Our church has a nationwide e-newsletter, and when the minister of his church there heard about the opening up here, he mentioned it to Seth. Seth was going through a rough time, and jumped at the chance to make a clean break. Running away, some might call it. But it was too painful for him to remain. We’ve kept him busy.”

“While this upgrade finishes, David, let’s go see how Denise and Gene are doing. And thanks for sharing Seth’s story with me. That’s a real sad situation. I had no idea.” When we entered the sitting room, we found Denise and Gene trying to help each other to stand. With Gene’s weak legs, and Denise’s large stomach, they were not successful, and were sitting there, laughing helplessly again. David and I each took our spouses’ arms and raised them to their feet. “You two belong together,” I said, ing in the laughter. After goodnights, and promises to get together over the holidays, and a final computer check, Gene and I set off for home. “Did you get the computer working?” Gene was gazing out the window, into the blackness. The moon had disappeared completely now. “Yes, upgrade issues. No problem. What did you and Denise talk about?” I asked rather casually, because I noticed a difference in his attitude, and I didn’t want him to think I was aware. “Oh, not much. She’s real nice.” He started to open up. “Did you know she has a lot of experience in counseling and in the medical field?” I nodded. “She mentioned something once.” “She told me a lot of stuff that Metzger left out. Not really left out, but where he gave us the technical , she told me what it really meant. It’s not as scary when you can relate to it piece by piece. She also told me about a group of MS patients in Burlington who meet once a month, and now with their website and e-mail, as often as they want. I was thinking I should try to get in touch with them through e-mail, or find a group of insulin-dependent MS sufferers, too. There must be a few of us with multiple complications.” He smiled at his play on words. “Denise said it would be surprising how many other MS sufferers I’ll find who are going through exactly what I am. She also told me that no one is ever alone. I guess I’d lost sight of that.” He leaned back, relaxed and satisfied. Bless you, Denise. This is what we needed.

Chapter 7

The weather turned quickly from a mild autumn to a miserable winter. The week of Thanksgiving was the worst I have ever lived through, climate-wise. On Sunday, Flo, Jack, Gene and I went to church. The day was so gray, and bleak, that all I wanted to do afterward was go home and sleep in front of the fire. Not only was the day dark and gray, but the temperature hovered just below freezing, adding an incredible rawness to the air. I know now where the term ‘chilled to the bone’ came from. On Monday, the weather was the same except the temperature dropped a few more degrees and there were flakes of snow in the air all day, but nothing accumulating. At work, Jo-An was bustling around making Thanksgiving preparations with Edgar and snow plans with Roland. With classes ending Tuesday noon, many students were already leaving for the long weekend. Flights out of Burlington were booked, as were trains and buses, from the volume of University students and faculty, so that many of our students, who traveled any distance, had left over the weekend. But we were still planning on having about fifty students on campus for Thanksgiving, as not everyone had a place to go. At last Tuesday’s staff meeting, Jo-An had shared with us the menu for Thanksgiving dinner, as well as the rest of the weekend, and had asked for volunteers to help serve and be available. I offered to come in on Thursday and Friday to help in the dining room. Gene and Flo didn’t have a problem with my schedule. As it was, Flo preferred to have Thanksgiving dinner at night, because for many years, the day was filled either with football games or if it snowed, Jack’s plowing. And now, the Monday before Thanksgiving, it looked like it might snow anyway. The forecasters showed a large storm moving up the Atlantic coast, and northern New England was caught in a low that had stalled in Canada. We could be in for a major storm. At choir practice Monday night, the pre-practice gossip was not only on the weather. Denise had had the baby at noon, a girl, whom they’d named Naomi. David had taken her into Burlington around dawn, after calling Seth and asking if he would watch the twins. Seth had the twins with him now, and they were

playing downstairs in the church, where we were going to practice. At least there were enough of us to help out, so Seth didn’t have to break his concentration from playing or directing us. At one point, though, we did take a break when the two boys started hitting and screaming at each other. Roger ran and grabbed Matt, while Sally caught Pete before he could whack Matt again. Seth leaned back on the chair, resting his hands on the keyboard. “Take five, everyone. I don’t know how Denise does it all, with those two.” I walked over to the piano. “Did you watch them all day?” “Yes, and they only napped for two hours this noon. It was a good thing I didn’t have classes scheduled this week. I probably would have had to drop them off at Sally’s store otherwise.” He raised his voice as he said this, so Sally would hear. “Ha! And you thought we were friends!” Sally came over, Pete slung across her wide hips. “Where do you want this one?” I had an idea. “You know, I noticed a large empty box upstairs. Can we use it for awhile?” “It was for our canned food drive, but we’re done until Christmas. We can get another box, anyway.” I ran upstairs, and dragged the box down. Seth came over to help. I turned it upside down, and cut a child-sized opening in one side, removing the flap. I found a table cloth in the kitchen, and Seth set up two chairs beside the box. We threw the table cloth over the chairs and box, and placed a blanket inside the box on the floor. I called to Sally. “Want to bring the boys over here? We’ve got a play house for them.” Sally and Roger carried the boys over. Matthew immediately saw the advantage of the play house, and screaming with delight, fought his way out of Roger’s arms and under the cloth. Peter was close behind. “We won’t have to worry about them for awhile, I hope.” Roger sighed in relief, as the boys laughed and crawled around inside. Seth threw in their stuffed animals.

“I give them five minutes and they’re asleep.” I gathered up the mess I’d made. Sally looked up. “Ooh, what makes you an expert on motherhood?” I turned and looked at her. “Well, Seth said they only had a short nap today. And, they must be awfully tired. Give them a cozy box and a blanket, and you’ve created the ‘womb’ effect. I know I’d fall right to sleep if I were in there.” Shortly after we started singing again, all was quiet under the box. Roger went over at one point, and after peeking inside, nodded to us. They were out cold, and the next hour of our singing didn’t bother them in the least. Stepping out into the night air later was a shock to our systems. Sally, Roger and I offered to help carry the boys and their things across the street to the parsonage. Seth and Roger each took a boy, and Sally and I carried everything else. As we pulled our collars tightly around our necks, Roger spoke. “I can’t when the air felt this raw. The moisture content is incredibly high. I’m afraid we’re going to get some snow.” “Well, that should be fun.” I was looking forward to snow. “We never got a whole lot in Connecticut. Well, one or two storms a year, maybe, and little dustings. And the occasional blizzard. Why? Don’t you like it?” We had arrived at the Henshaw’s house. “Claire, you haven’t seen anything yet. Some years, the snow starts now and doesn’t stop until May. And I’m talking about a foot or two with each storm.” Sally added, unlocking the door for Seth, “Then, some years, we don’t get much at all. The mountains do, and it helps the spring run-off. But to supply the rivers and lakes, we need a lot of snow. It’s not an evil, just an inconvenience. You’ll see. And what Roger means is, it seems to be starting soon this year.” There were still flakes in the air as I headed back to my car after saying goodnight to everyone. Tuesday morning, I was in Flo’s kitchen putting my lunch together when Jack came in from the garage. “Well, I got the plow on the truck, and we’re all set. I hope you’re going to take a change of clothes to work with you.”

I looked at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?” “The weather forecast. That storm that’s been coming up the coast has turned inland. A real nor’easter. Supposed to start by noon here. Plus with what we call our lake effect snow from Champlain, we’re going to get socked hard. The heaviest snow is supposed to be tonight and tomorrow, even into Thursday.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. I hesitated. “Are you serious, Jack? You don’t think I’ll be able to get home?” “Claire, it’s not worth trying to drive over the hills if we’ve got a couple of feet. The plows won’t be able to keep up with it. I’d take a suitcase, if I were you. You can always just keep it in the car. And, make sure your gas tank is full before you get to work this morning. And your cell phone charged. We’re all set here. We’ve got plenty of food, and gasoline to run the generator.” Flo had several large freezers in the cellar, for meats and frozen vegetables and fruits. Jack ran the generator to keep the furnace, refrigerator and freezers working whenever there was a power failure. He must have noticed I looked worried. “It would be a shame if you couldn’t get home. We always have a great time during a storm. Flo will dig out some frozen raspberries or blueberries, and make a pie or two. And some homemade bread. And maybe a beef stew. Mmm. Nice thing about propane for cooking and hot water.” “Jack, you son-of-a bitch, you do make it sound like fun, and I’d stay home now if I could. But there will be hell to pay if I don’t go in.” I stuffed my sandwich and some other goodies in my zippered lunch bag, and ran upstairs to pack some clothes and toiletries. Better to be safe than sorry. At quarter to ten, Jo-An breezed by my door on her way into her office. “No staff meeting this morning, Claire.” I called back, “OK, thanks, but how come?” I walked over to her doorway, and leaned against the wall. She was sorting through a stack of papers. “I have some things to do with Roland, and I think everyone is all set for the holiday. I want to make it clear, however, that I expect anyone who is here to remain here all day. We are not paying people for leaving early, and you can inform your staff of that.” She looked right at me. “Why? Has it started to snow? My husband says it get can real nasty around here

in the winter and it’s better to drive while you still can.” “Your husband has never had to run an institution with round the clock services. Maybe he’s had the luxury of staying home when he wishes, but not everyone can do that.” She brushed past me with some papers and grabbed the ring of keys from the hook on the wall. After she’d left, I turned to Winifred. “What was she talking about? Who usually leaves early in bad weather?” “You haven’t heard? Several staff didn’t show up today. George and Howard, for two. They decided it wasn’t worth the trip from Burlington, to have to go back in snow. That’s why she really cancelled the staff meeting. Also, Francine and Marilyn didn’t come in. Marilyn called Jo-An to say she would cover Saturday and Sunday instead. Jo-An wasn’t too happy, but Marilyn doesn’t abuse privileges, so Jo-An let it go.” “How do you know all this, Winifred? I swear, you know everything.” “I heard it from Sarah. She’s not going home for the holidays, because she lives in Alabama, but is going to spend the weekend with Laura’s family. She was in Laura’s office doing some filing, and overheard Jo-An telling Laura. Jo-An was pretty angry, lack of professionalism, and so forth, she called it. And, can I suggest something else to you? Just something I’m guessing at. When you mentioned your husband just now, Jo-An got very defensive. She doesn’t like ideas or suggestions if they come from men. I don’t think she likes it because you have a husband who can advise you on matters.” I ed what Marilyn had told me a few weeks before. “You mean, someone like me that Jo-An doesn’t have complete control because there are other people in my life?” “Yes, or even if there are other people in their lives, Jo-An has ways of creating a dependency on her.” “Well, thanks, Winifred.” I thought of Laura and the car loan. What Winifred said made sense, and I vowed not to let Jo-An take my independence away. I also vowed not to mention Gene in conversation again. “By the way, how are you spending your holidays?”

Winifred smiled shyly. “A couple of us ladies are going to the casinos for a few days. We’re not going until the end of the week, so hopefully the driving will be ok. I won’t be back until Tuesday.” Winifred turned around to answer the phones, which had been ringing incessantly all morning. “I’ll pick up calls, too.” Winifred nodded her thanks, as she transferred one call after another from anxious parents to students, all trying to confirm transportation arrangements. I hurried into my office, and for the next couple of hours, Winifred and I seldom got a breather from the phones. The snow started quietly after lunch, falling lightly and silently. I only became aware it was snowing because I noticed a sudden stillness in the air, even in my office. Because I had my back to the window, I would not have known, until I turned around to see why everything was so still, and realized we already had over an inch of snow covering the lawn and drive. For the next several hours, I was treated to the most beautiful winter postcard I’d ever seen. The snow accumulated quickly, and the small shrubs and statues in front of our building soon disappeared from sight. Every branch on every tree was covered with thin lines of white, starkly contrasted between the black limbs and leaden sky. Roland and his young helper, Dean, had already shoveled the walkways and steps once, and sprinkled ice-melt, but these paths were soon filled in. By three o’clock, with almost four inches of snow on the ground, Roland brought out his truck and plow. I was secretly glad Jack had advised me to bring an overnight bag. Right after Roland made his first with the plow, Lydia came in to see me. She was buttoning her coat. “I’m going to be running along, Claire. It’s unlikely I’ll see you tomorrow, so have a nice holiday. Are you leaving soon?” “You have a nice one, too, Lydia, and thanks. I’ll probably be here awhile. Just so you know, Jo-An has already warned us about letting people leave early. Are you aware of that?” “Oh, yes. She does this every year. Bob always used to tell us, “use your best judgment.” Everyone has a different confidence level in winter driving, he said, and as long as we made up the hours, and we had staff who were willing to stay and cover, he didn’t have a problem. Winifred is staying over in the dorm tonight, and I told her I’d take the switchboard for her some day. I can do my work out here just as well.”

I liked Bob’s philosophy and secretly wished he were still here. “Drive carefully, Lydia. See you next Monday!” I went out to talk to Winifred. “Are you staying over tonight?” I whispered, even though Jo-An wasn’t in her office. Sarah had just left with Laura, so Winifred was working longer days Monday through Wednesday. “Yes, I usually do when it’s bad. I’m good friends with Sylvia, one of the parttime residence ‘mothers.’ She has an extra bed in her room.” Sylvia was one of four widowed or retired women on the part-time staff, who alternated nights in the two dorms as house mothers. Each dorm also had three seniors who were house monitors. They met with Jo-An weekly, or as needed. Jo-An met with the night staff in the evening hours, and was always available in case of emergency because of the proximity of her own living quarters. In fact, Winifred had told me that many nights, Jo-An didn’t go home until after midnight because of those meetings. Now I knew the source of Winifred’s information. “I was wondering, Winifred, if there would be a place for me to stay, if I were to stay tonight?” “Of course!” Winifred was delighted. “We’d love to have you. Sylvia comes on at five. I’ll give her a call and let her know you’re staying. What about supper?” “I hadn’t thought about that. What do you do?” “If I work through supper, I’m entitled to get a tray from the Commons. I could get an extra for you.” “That wouldn’t be right. I’m not officially working. Forget it. I have some crackers and extra fruit with me. I’ll eat that. Where should I meet you?” “Walk out with me at five. I’ll go on to the Commons, and you can go on over to Ethan Hall. Do you like to play Scrabble?” Our evening was fun. The house mother’s suite consisted of two rooms, a bedroom and a sitting room. Sylvia and I chatted while I ate my fruit and crackers. Winifred showed up about six, shaking the snow from her hair and a large plastic bag she carried. “It’s awful out there. If anyone didn’t get home by now, they’re not going to

make it.” I was curious about who hadn’t left. “Is Jo-An still around?” “Oh, yes, but I only saw her briefly. She had a snow shovel and she’s helping Roland and Dean. They can’t stay ahead of it, though. And the forecast says the front is stalled right over northern Vermont, so we could be looking at a day or so of this. Have you called your husband?” I replied, “Just a few minutes ago. My father-in-law is out plowing. I’ll call again in the morning, and get an updated report, if he ever gets home himself.” “Well, I hope you didn’t eat too many crackers. Look what Edgar sent over!” She opened the bag, and took out several containers of roasted potatoes, sliced beef with gravy, mixed vegetables and apple pie. Sylvia jumped up to put on a pot of coffee. We had a great evening of Scrabble and conversation. Sylvia asked me how I liked it here. “It’s a wonderful school, and I’m beginning to get the hang of things. Most people are very nice.” Sylvia laughed. “I knew we’d like you. I’ve known Flo all my life. We go to the same hairdresser. We have overlapping appointments weekly. Winifred has told me you’ve had some run-ins with Jo-An. She’s a tough one, isn’t she?” Winifred added. “Syl, tell Claire what you told me the other day. About Cindy Berthiaume.” I was in the mood for gossip. This was like a pajama party, but with women old enough to be my mother. “Yes, tell me.” “OK,” Sylvia agreed, “but you have to promise not to let it go outside of this room. Gee, I wish we had some wine or something, but I’m on duty. Too bad.” Sylvia was funny. She continued, sipping her coffee. “Well, I don’t know how well you know Cindy Berthiaume. She came to Vermont from the same school Jo-An worked for. Jo-An hired her about a month after she had started here. Wanted to bring in her own people, she said, yada

yada yada.” I interrupted. “Didn’t you have a guidance counselor?” “Sure, but she quit the day after she met Jo-An. We don’t know what was said between them, but I think Jo-An made it clear she wanted her out.” “Was this guidance counselor a bad teacher?” “No, just a little old-school. Jo-An may have put the pressure on her to modernize. Carol alluded to that before she left. Anyway, Cindy, as you know, is divorced. Her ex-husband still lives in Virginia. One day, about three weeks ago, Jo-An had been over here for one of her evening meetings with me. She usually carries a stack of folders, mail, papers, who knows what. She accidentally left some of the stuff on that table over there and I didn’t find it until after she’d left.” She paused for a sip of coffee. “When I saw the pile, I went over to it. I didn’t mean to read anything, of course, except that there was a newspaper sticking out of the top folder. It was a Virginia newspaper, from the city next to where the Simpson School is located. Well, I figured Jo-An might be back any minute for her things, but I was curious, so I locked the door and scanned through the pages. On the back page was a small article about a drug bust in someone’s home, where the man was arrested for growing and distributing marijuana. The police also found a large stash of heroin and crack. Want to know the man’s name?” I nodded. “Jerry Berthiaume, Cindy’s ex-husband.” “That’s interesting,” I replied, “but what’s it got to do with Cindy? Maybe that’s why she divorced him, to get away from him.” Sylvia and Winifred looked at each other. “We don’t think so, Claire. We think Cindy still has with him.” “How do you know that? And, by the way, did Jo-An ever come back for her papers?” “Oh, yeh, that was funny. I had just finished reading it, when she knocked on the

door. I put everything back, and through the back of my hand, answered, ‘who is it?’ She said ‘Jo-An’, and I said, ‘Just a minute. I’m in the bathroom’. I ran in there real quick and flushed the toilet. When I opened the door, she just grabbed her stuff and took off.” I started laughing. “Sylvia, you are too much. You must watch a lot of TV.” The image of this plump, gray-haired sleuth playing Miss Marple was a hoot. Winifred prompted her to go on. “Tell her about the phone calls. And Ellen.” “Oh, yes. Many evenings, Jo-An stays late. Usually, she spends those evenings in Ellen’s office, in the Commons. Ellen is a real nice lady, as I’m sure you know. She has three kids, and she’s divorced, too, but those kids mean the world to her. Ellen is from a small town outside of Montpelier, and went to nursing school up here, and worked overseas and in Burlington until she found the job here. She likes the town better than the city, and her kids are all in public school in the district. Bob hired her years ago, and she knows the job better than anyone. But she’s changed.” “Like how?” I was really curious now. All this information was new to me, and exciting. But it disturbed me, also. This wasn’t the innocent little community I’d thought it was when I moved here. “Well, her personal habits have changed. She always used to be in by nine in the morning. She’d leave around three, because her kids would come home from school, and then come back around seven, after they’d had supper and were doing their homework. The oldest is early to mid-teens. She’d work a couple of hours in the evening. Now, from what Winifred tells me, Ellen doesn’t come in until around noon, and disappears from three to seven. But, even though Jo-An says Ellen comes back in the evening, I can see the parking lot from here, and Ellen might come back one or two evenings a week, if that. Jo-An is the one in Ellen’s office, doing her work for her, I assume.” “But so what? Her hours are funny. Maybe not right, but that’s between her and Jo-An.” I wanted to hear more, however. Winifred continued. “In the evening, after Sarah shuts down the switchboard, JoAn forwards the phone to ring in the Commons and in Ethan Hall. Sylvia, or whoever is on in this dorm, answers the phone at night, unless Edgar or Jo-Ann or Ellen are in the Commons. Sylvia has taken a few calls at night for Jo-An,

from a man.” “Once, I put him on hold while I tried to find Jo-An, and when I came back, he had hung up.” I asked Winifred, “So what? Can’t Jo-An get phone calls? And how come they don’t call on her cell phone?” “She never gets these calls during the day. And, here’s the funny part. She never talks to the man.” “What?” I was really curious. “The phone console shows which extension is lit up. As soon as Jo-An picks up the phone, the outside party hangs up. She never says anything to me about losing a call, or anything.” I thought for a minute. “Can you any dates when these calls have come in?” “Sure. There was one the night of the Halloween party,” Sylvia replied. “And another one, just a day or two before that investigator was in town.” This didn’t seem to mean anything to me. “What about Ellen? Any other strange things?” “Yes,” Winifred added. “Ellen was always a meticulous dresser. She never wore nursing whites, except on days when she was giving Hep B shots or other formal inoculations or going to professional meetings. But she was always neat, clean and well put together. Lately, she’s gotten sloppy. Her hair is never combed the same way in the same day, her clothes are shabby, and she’s just not the same. It’s too bad, because she’s such a pretty woman. We think she has problems with her kids or something worse, like drugs. I hope not.” I didn’t have time to reply, because just then, the power went out. Sylvia calmly got out the battery lights. Shortly thereafter, Jo-An called Sylvia to make sure things were ok in Ethan Hall, and to tell her that the Commons was on generator. Winifred and I went to bed, knowing that tomorrow was going to be a busy day. At six the next morning, I trudged and fought my way through the drifting snow

to the Commons, to help Edgar or whomever with breakfast. I couldn’t believe the depth of the snow. It had to be over three feet, and to make it worse, the wind was blowing now, and tree limbs were down. When I arrived in the kitchen, Edgar was already there. “Hi!” He greeted me. “Want some coffee?” He poured me a cup. “Did you end up staying here last night?” I nodded, and thanked him for the supper. “You are so welcome. And, it was wise to stay,” he replied. “I have four-wheel drive and it was a bitch getting here today. No one is on the road, and the governor has declared a state of emergency. The forecasters don’t predict it will stop until tomorrow.” “I just can’t get over it, Edgar. But, here I am, just tell me what I can do.” I had just started filling the juice machine when Jo-An showed up for breakfast. She seemed rather surprised to see me, but was quickly distracted by a problem Roland was having. About sixty students remained on campus, as about a dozen had waited too long to leave yesterday and found out they were stranded. By the time we were cleaning up from breakfast, Jo-An reappeared. “When did you get in, Claire? I didn’t see your car.” “I moved my car yesterday afternoon to behind maintenance, out of the way of the plow. I stayed over last night in the dorm.” I could not have predicted Jo-An’s reaction if my life had depended on it. “You what?” She screamed with rage. “You stayed over? What right did you have to stay without asking my permission? Where did you stay? In Ethan Allen? I have a right to know where everyone is at every moment!” She was screaming at me, her face red and ready to burst with anger. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edgar leave the kitchen. “Jo-An, I’m really sorry. I wanted to be here to help today and tomorrow, and my father-in-law warned me to bring a change of clothes just in case. You said yourself you were expecting our help in case of an emergency.” I didn’t know how to answer her charges. Maybe she was right about my staying in the dorm; that I should have let her know that. But there is no reason to act like this. I tried a different approach. “Jo-An, why does this upset you so much?”

That didn’t fare any better. She was on a rampage. “I am not upset! You should have told me you were staying over. I need to know these things! No one stays here without my permission, is that clear?” Her eyes were glassy, and watery, and her face still purple. She was also very sweaty-looking, and it occurred to me she probably hadn’t bathed today. I tried not to show how upset I was, even though I was shaking inside from fear. I knew also she had no idea that Winifred had stayed last night, nor had in the past, but I wasn’t going to get Winifred in trouble. “Jo-An, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I turned to walk away, picking up a tray of juice glasses nearby. My hands were shaking. She called after me, her voice still high-pitched and rapid. “If you need a place to stay in the future, you can stay at my house. I just need to know, that’s all, where you are!” I kept walking, not desiring to give her any reply. Winifred and I were the only two in the istration building that day. I kept busy with audit preparation, for which I didn’t need my computer, and as long as I worked near the window, I had plenty of light reflecting from the snow, as the power was still out. Jo-An never came into her office all day, as she was busy outside. Around noon, I called home from my cell phone, which I used sparingly. Jack had come in around dawn to nap and would be going out again, Gene told me. I told him about Jo-An’s reaction, and he became very upset. “You know, Claire, you work your ass off and that’s how she treats you? I’d just tell her to stick it.” “That’s fine for you to say, Gene. I wonder if you really would. But right now, I have a more immediate problem, and that’s where to stay tonight. Winifred is still going to stay in the dorm, but Jo-An will be watching me. I have to get home, and I know I can’t make it in my car. I haven’t even tried to shovel it out yet. And I’ll be damned if I stay at her house!” “Let me talk to Dad and I’ll call you right back, ok? Do you have enough life left in your cell battery?” I assured him I did. About ten minutes later, Jack called. “Claire, I just got off the phone with Charlie Porter. He drives the highway plow that’s doing the roads down your

way. He told me he will pick you up at the end of the driveway at exactly four o’clock, and drop you off in Dayville, where I’ll pick you up in my truck. OK?” “Oh, Jack, thanks a million. I’ll be waiting for him” A little before four, I fought my way down the driveway through a new six inches of snow that had piled up since Roland last plowed. Roland had stopped for a few hours to rest. Charlie was right on time. I had never ridden in a snow plow. I climbed in, with my overnight bag, and introduced myself to Charlie. “I figured it had to be you, Mrs. Phillips, as there aren’t any other women standing out hee’ah hitchin’ a ride today.” Charlie was about Jack’s age, and apparently had the same sense of humor. I sat back and listened to Charlie tell me about his plowing experiences, until we met Jack in Dayville. I thanked Charlie profusely, telling him what a lifesaver he was for a city slicker like me. The following morning, Thanksgiving Day, I took my time getting up and dressed. Although we, too, were without power, because of Jack’s generator we had the refrigerator, freezers and heating system operating. With the propane gas, we had hot water and could cook. Jack was going to drive me to work this morning as I had volunteered for the Holiday shift. As we went out to his truck, I noticed how still and soft the air was now that the snow had stopped. The only noise was the occasional crash of falling snow off a tree limb as the sun, now breaking forth between the clouds, warmed the glistening tops of the trees. I helped Jack clean off the truck. “Now, Claire, you should be able to get home ok tonight, don’t you think?” “Of course, Jack. Once the damn roads get plowed down to only a foot of snow, I should be all right.” Now these Vermonters had me doing it, trying to be nonchalant. “When we get to Gregory Hill, I’ll help you dig out your car.” “Ah, thanks, Jack, but I think it would be better if you just dropped me at the end of the driveway. I can take care of the car. Really.” I felt awful about turning down his offer, but I could just hear Jo-An if she saw me being driven to work in a plow. Jack dropped me off, and I spent the next half hour digging out and cleaning off my car.

Thanksgiving dinner at school was fun. Jo-An let the students bring their favorite CD’s into the dining room, and everyone sort of hung out there all morning and well into the evening. We served dinner at one o’clock, and aside from Jo-An’s reprimanding me for using the wrong sized serving spoon for the mashed potatoes, meal-time went well. I didn’t eat, as I was saving my appetite for Flo’s dinner. Around three, the electricity came back on, and several of the staff who had not been in all week, called to say they would come in on Friday and Saturday. JoAn approached me, after hanging up with Laura. “You were planning on being here tomorrow, weren’t you, Claire?” I nodded. “Well, it seems like we’re going to have quite a few staff, and you’ve been here all week. We really appreciate it, so why don’t you take the rest of the weekend and we’ll see you on Monday?” She didn’t wait for my reply, but walked away. My ride home that afternoon was beautiful. The roads hadn’t been treated with sand or salt yet, but just hard packed snow. What a day for a sleigh ride! I laughed, and sang “Jingle Bells” as loudly as I could. As there wasn’t any traffic, I wasn’t concerned with the driving, and had a chance to ire the scenery. The late afternoon sun sparkled and glistened across the rolling white fields. I saw a deer leap and flounder through snow up to its belly, and disappear into the woods. I was so glad to get home to Gene and the warmth of our house.

Chapter 8

By Monday, life was back to normal. Oh, there were plowed piles of snow along the roads that were higher than my car, and the piles at intersections made it sometimes impossible to see around the corners. But this was ok, Jack assured me. People just had to drive slower, that’s all. And not all the planes in and out of Burlington were on time, and the buses were late, but life was slowly returning to normal. In order to see around corners, some enterprising residents installed large mirrors at the ends of their driveways, usually mounted on trees or telephone poles. Other folks put up large, hand-painted signs at dangerous corners that read ‘Stop and blow horn before turning.’ The most interesting thing was, however, that the weather never ceased to be the continuous subject of every conversation. No matter where I went, I heard the weather being discussed. Not all our students had returned by Sunday night as they were supposed to have. When I arrived at work on Monday, Laura informed me that Jo-An was already making a list of the tardy students. At that moment, Jo-An burst into the lounge where we were pouring our coffee. “There is absolutely no excuse for these students not to have returned yesterday. I have here the list of names and where they live, and every one of them should have been able to get back. I had absolutely no problem driving down to Rutland yesterday to go shopping. Tell me what you think of my idea: When these students return, they are going to have to do one full day of meal serving in the Commons as punishment.” Jo-An looked at us for approval, a big smile on her face. Laura was visibly uncomfortable. We both knew this was absurd, but I also knew Laura would never tell Jo-An so. I decided to do it. “Well, I don’t have a problem with punishment if the students had been warned in advance they would suffer the consequences if they returned late. But we never told them that. We particularly didn’t tell them how severe an infraction this is. So I’m not sure if this is an appropriate punishment.” I tried to be

nonchalant, and casual. Jo-An bristled. “They know, all right. It says right in the handbook that all students are expected to be present for classes before and after holidays.” “Yes, I know it does, but we didn’t allow for the severity of the weather, nor did we stipulate the punishment. I feel it would be better to use this situation as the example, point it out to everyone, and write it down more specifically for the future. But to punish a few now, when they don’t even know…I don’t think it’s fair.” Those were the wrong words for me to use. “Fair?” Jo-An screamed. “Fair? What is fair in life, anyway?” She slammed her papers on one of the lunch tables, and was grasping the back of a chair with her tightly clenched hand. “These women have to learn to be responsible. No one is going to be looking out for them except themselves. Not everyone is going to have a husband to take of them. I don’t have to be fair. I have to set examples. And that is exactly what I’m going to do!” She grabbed her papers and ran from the room. Laura and I just stared at each other. I took my coffee and headed back to my office. I wasn’t going to get into a discussion with Laura about the ‘husband’ reference Jo-An made. Laura had divided loyalties, and it might hurt to be insulted like that, but Laura knew where her bread was buttered. That evening, before choir practice started, the conversation was the weather. I decided, as a non-Vermonter, to have some fun with my friends. As we were sipping our coffee, gathered in the practice room downstairs, I suddenly stood up and blurted out my feelings about the weather. “I’ve had it!” I yelled across the room. “All I’ve heard for a week is nothing but the damned weather, the cold, the snow, how deep it is, how much more we’re going to get! Can’t we talk about something else?” I looked around the room at everyone, feigning near hysteria. My little tirade backfired. I guess my new friends knew me better than I thought. After a few seconds of absolute silence, Roger looked at everyone and replied. “Nope, we can’t talk about anything else, because this is all there is until spring.” He took a final swig of his coffee, and tossed the cup into the trash. He and Ken came over to where I was standing, and taking me by my arms, led me to the

door. “What are you doing?” I started to giggle nervously. Everyone in the room behind us was laughing. I was afraid I’d gone too far this time. They opened the back door, and we were hit by night temperatures in the low teens. “I think you need to cool off for a while, Claire. A few minutes out here, and maybe you’ll appreciate Vermont winters better.” I protested, pulling back. “No, no, I’ll be good, I promise! Please don’t throw me out there! I’ll talk about your weather all you want. Please!” I was begging, but half laughing. I wasn’t sure if they’d do it. The two men looked at each other, as the other choir gathered behind them, laughing. “Well, all right. She can stay in. But she promised, you heard her, to talk about the weather! Let’s hear you!” They released their hold and shut the door. Just then, Seth came down the front stairs carrying the night’s music. “What’s going on?” He looked around at everyone. It was obvious we had been up to something. “I guess I don’t want to know, do I?” He shook his head and started handing out music. “You people are bad. And I have a feeling, Claire is just as bad.” Everyone laughed. We practiced downstairs as it was too cold upstairs, and we didn’t want to waste heating the whole building for just an hour. When we were leaving, I offered to take the music back upstairs and make sure the doors were locked. As I entered the church from the rear stairs, the only light was the full moon shining through the tall windows. I didn’t bother to turn on the lights. Two of the pew seats in the choir loft opened up for storage, and I neatly stacked our music in one of them. I stood up, and heard a slight rustling noise from the end of the church near the doors. No one had come upstairs with me, so I was a little apprehensive as I walked to check the main doors. I was not expecting anyone to be seated in the shadows. “Hi, Claire.” I jumped a mile. Chris Dusoe stood up from where he had been sitting, bundled up in scarf, gloves, hat and coat, in the last pew. “My, God, Chris, what on earth! You almost gave me heart failure. What are you doing here?” I was shaking, and

leaned back against a pew. “Jesus H. Christ! Sorry, Lord!” “Sorry, Claire. I really didn’t mean to scare you. Are you ok?” He looked at me closely. “Oh, sure. But why are you hiding up here?” “I stopped by your house, and your husband said you were here. He invited me to wait, but I told him I’d meet you here. I have to get back to Burlington and catch a late flight out. I need to ask you a favor, though.” “Sure, but it’s awful cold here. Want to go downstairs?” “I intentionally didn’t want to be seen by too many people. I was waiting until you were done practicing, and I was going to go wait for you at your car. But then I heard you say you’d bring the music upstairs. Your choir sounded real good, by the way.” I just stared at him, my hand on my chest, my heart still beating rapidly. “Thanks. Look, I was about to lock up. Why don’t you go on out and I’ll meet you at your car? Can we talk there?” “Sure, I’ll go warm it up. I’m up at the end of Village Road. Not too many available spots, with the snow and all.” Chris ran down the front steps and up the side street, disappearing behind the snow piles. I locked the church and followed him. Most of the choir had parked in the small lot behind the church, or along the other side, and I could see them warming up their cars. I found Chris’ rental car and slipped into the enger seat. “Now, what is it you’d like me to do?” “Don’t I even get a hello, how are you? And how come you never returned my phone call?” “Oh,” I replied. “Hello. How have you been? And I didn’t call you back because I knew the answer.” Chris looked confused. “What answer? I didn’t ask a question.” Now I was puzzled. “Your last voice mail message led me to believe you had

spoken to a board member, the one who recommended hiring Kevin, Arthur Williams. That’s how you knew I was in a meeting that morning, because Williams must have told you he was headed to Vermont for a board meeting. So I assumed you were just going to tell me you had made the connection between the board and Kevin.” “No, I wasn’t. That’s rather basic detective work, and please don’t assume anything in the future. It’s dangerous. I was going to tell you something much more interesting, and ask for your help, which is why I’m here.” “You could have called me again. And what could be so dangerous?” I laughed, feeling naively foolish, but also intrigued by his “dangerous” comment. “I had business in Burlington, and I love Vermont weather, especially cold nights, so I decided to drive out.” I burst out laughing. Poor Chris didn’t know what was so funny about “Vermont weather.” “Never mind, I’ll tell you someday, Chris. But please don’t talk about the weather, ok?” “Ok.” He looked at his watch. “Business. We’ll have to make this fast. I’m sure you have access to invoices, things like that.” I nodded, and he continued. “Well, there’s a self-storage place in Dayville, about half way between the Academy and the center of town. The Academy rents a unit there.” “Sure,” I added, “I’ve driven by the place. Dayville Self-Store, right?” “Yes. The last time I was here, I checked it out. The clerk confirmed that the Academy has a unit, but he couldn’t let me into it. I’m not a cop, and if it came to that, we’d need a warrant. I assured him there was no need to let me in; that I was just looking into all the activities of the Academy. I was wondering if you knew what Jo-An used the storage unit for and if you can get copies of the bills, find out how long you’ve had the unit, all the details. Can you do that?” “Sure. I can poke around in the files as long as Jo-An isn’t in the building. She knows everything that goes on, believe me.” “She’s got some good spies. Be careful, ok?” I was worried. “Why do you want to check the self-store? And why should I be

worried about Jo-An?” Chris looked at his watch again. “Your choir sang too long. I have to go if I’m going to catch my flight. I’ll call you at home tomorrow evening. You can give me your cell number then too.” I opened the door and stepped into the icy cold night. Chris leaned across the seat. “Your husband is very nice. We had a pleasant visit. Take good care of him, and I’ll call tomorrow!” He drove away. The following morning, Jo-An posted a notice on the main bulletin board in the Commons, as well as on all the doors to every building on campus. It was a list of the twenty-two tardy students and the meals at which they were expected to serve. The note clearly stated that this was punishment for returning late, and punishment began with the noon meal. Winifred poked her head in my office. “Good morning, Claire. How are you today?” I smiled. Winifred was nice. After what Chris said about spies, I was feeling more paranoid than ever, but I knew Winifred wasn’t one of Jo-An’s friends. I trusted my instincts. “I’m fine today. And you? How were the casinos?” “Oh, just great. I’ll tell you later. But what’s going on? Sarah filled me in about the postings. I can’t wait to see the reaction. Did you know about this?” “Yes, Winifred, a few of us knew she was brewing something. Has she done anything like this in the past?” “Once, last year, she cancelled a Valentine’s party with the boys’ high school in Burlington because of some cheating on exams. It involved only a few students, but she insisted on punishing everyone.” “Did she find out who the guilty students were?” “No, and that’s what really angered her, that the other students, if they knew who it was, wouldn’t tell. So they all suffered, or so she thought. There’s a strong loyalty amongst the students, and even with some of the staff.”

We heard Jo-An’s high-pitched voice in the foyer, reprimanding Roland for not using the right kind of salt mixture on the walkways. Winifred quickly turned around and pretended to be working at the copier. Jo-An ran into the office area, stopping at my doorway. She was breathless, and her cheeks bright red from the outdoors. “Claire! How are you today?” She smiled. Oh, oh, I thought. Now what does she want? I was finding it easier to figure her out. “I’m just fine, Jo-An, and you?” I relaxed and smiled back. “Well, you know that two weeks from today is the board meeting in Wellesley. We need to get the financials together, much as we did for last month here. I figure if we leave about six a.m., we should have plenty of time. The meeting is at eleven; they’ll have lunch for us afterward; and we should be home by suppertime. You don’t have any problems with those arrangements, do you?” She looked at me closely. I knew the board meeting was in two weeks, but only because I had seen the schedule for the year at the last meeting. Jo-An had been so busy with other things the last few weeks, she had never mentioned it. But I was prepared, having worked on the reports for the last several days. “No problem at all. Sounds good to me. I should have a draft of the package later today, and I’ll leave it on your desk to review.” “Good, good. Say, what’s that you’re eating?” She was looking at the plastic sandwich bag on my desk. “Oh, just a couple of cherry/orange scones my mother-in-law made. Want to try a piece?” I held out the bag. Jo-An reached into the bag and breaking off a large corner, stuffed the biscuit into her mouth. “Mmm, that’s good!” Then, before I even knew what she was doing, she grabbed the bag from my hand. “Thanks a lot!” And ran into her office. As I was about to protest, I was distracted by Sherry, who was talking to Winifred.

“Do you want to see me, Sherry?” Jo-An called out, her voice muffled, obviously stuffed with my scones. “Yes, if I could, real quick before my class.” Sherry came in, and went into JoAn’s office, shutting the door behind her. When they came out, neither said anything. Sherry ran off to her class, and JoAn puttered around at the copier, straightening papers, dusting the counter top. I called out to her, with as much sarcasm as I dared. “I hope you enjoyed the scones, Jo-An!” Jo-An didn’t appear to hear me. Instead, she addressed Winifred. “Winifred, would you mind calling all the mentors and informing them we will not be having a staff meeting today? Something has come up that I need to work on.” She abruptly went into her office and shut the door. Curious, I went out to Winifred’s desk. She was busy calling the mentors or leaving messages on their voice mail. During the school year, this one-hour per week for staff meetings became a study hall for the students. Jo-An had tried to have staff meetings later in the day, but too many staff were busy with extracurricular activities, like sports, music lessons, tutoring, and so forth, that it didn’t work out. The study halls were monitored by a select number of senior honor students. I looked over Winifred’s shoulder to see if Jo-An’s extension was lit up. It wasn’t. At least I knew it wasn’t outside business. It must have been something Sherry said to her. I decided to find Laura. “Winifred, I’m going for coffee. I’ll let Laura know about the meeting.” I found Laura in the gym, collecting basketballs. After telling her about the meeting, I made small talk. “So, how do you think it’s going to go with the punishment today?” Laura appeared uncomfortable. “Why? Should there be any problems?” So she is defensive, I thought. Something must have happened. “No, not that I know of. I’m just curious to see how the students react.” “Well, they’ve already reacted. You have to promise me you won’t tell you heard this from me.” She glanced around the room. “The students are really pissed off.

And not just the ones being punished. From what I heard, they were all going to boycott the dining commons the rest of today.” So that’s it. “Does Jo-An know?” I asked naively. “Yes, and no. She doesn’t know about the boycott. Apparently, Sherry heard about it before her first class and managed to convince the students it wouldn’t be the most effective means of voicing their anger. They agreed not to boycott, but Sherry doesn’t know what they are going to do. She felt it was her obligation to advise Jo-An of the dissent, however, and told the students so. They didn’t have a problem with it.” I liked Sherry. She was a tactful, rational person, and apparently had the trust of the students. Now it appeared there was to be a showdown, and the students couldn’t back down, knowing that Jo-An was waiting for their reaction. This was childish. I didn’t like the games. Noontime came, and nothing happened. The students on the punishment list worked their shift. Everything seemed normal in the Commons. When I left at five, suppertime appeared normal as well. Flo and I had just finished the dishes and I was about to help Gene get ready for bed, when my cell phone rang. I immediately recognized the ring tone I had assigned to Jo-An. I answered, with a bit of trepidation. She was screaming irrationally. I held the phone out for the others in the room to hear. “How could they? They must have gotten hold of a fax machine somewhere. Claire, I hold you responsible for letting faxes go out of the Academy without my knowledge or authorization. Further…” I cut her off. Gene was standing beside me, giving me courage. “Jo-An, please slow down. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I would appreciate it if you would stop screaming at me.” I waited. There was a pause, and Jo-An continued, her voice slower and calmer. “Someone sent a fax to the Board, to Arthur specifically, with a copy of the punishment list and a letter of complaint, signed by the twenty-two students. Arthur called me this evening, wanting to know what’s going on.” Her voice began to rise in pitch and volume. “I want to know where the fax was sent from. We have the only fax machine in the building that I know of.”

“Jo-An, I was in my office all day, and I can assure you, no one used the fax machine, except Winifred, to send something you gave her, and Lydia, to send a form to state tax office. We use the fax very little. Maybe it was sent from somewhere else.” “Yes, like someone’s dorm room. My guess is, someone has a fax in their computer. That’s possible, isn’t it?” Jo-An wasn’t very computer literate. “It is, and most PC’s have built-in fax, scanning, so forth. I don’t think there’s anything we can do to prevent what they send out or receive.” “Oh, yes we can prevent it! I’ll write a policy tomorrow about what can and cannot be sent from the Academy.” I sighed. I could foresee the legal battles ensuing and reactions from angry parents. But I changed the subject. “Jo-An, what did you tell Arthur? And what was his reaction to this? Wait, Jo-An, another thing. Arthur doesn’t use email, does he? Isn’t he one of several board we have to fax things to? So how did someone know that they had to fax him, and how did they find the number?” This was the real issue as far as I was concerned. “I told him this was simply the result of a few students who were bucking authority and who didn’t want to live by the rules. I told him that no one else had any problems, and every once in a while, you’re bound to get some dissenters. He was satisfied. I told him everything was under control.” “Jo-An?” I decided to placate her, and get her on my side. “I know everything is under control. This will blow over in a day or two and everything will be normal again. There’s always going to be a problem now and then. Are you ok with that?” She hesitated. Then she said, “No, I’m not. I will not tolerate any kind of insubordination. I’m going to find out who sent the fax, and equally important, how they got Arthur’s fax number.” She hung up without saying good bye. I had no sooner hung up with Jo-An when Chris called. I was rather curt with him, briefly explaining why, and offering to call him in the next day or two when I had some information for him. Gene was sitting patiently beside me on the sofa, but I needed to get him to bed. Chris must have sensed the strain in my voice. He said anything was fine with him, and wished us a good night.

But the following day, Jo-An made no mention of her phone call to me. She said a brief hello, then took off for the morning, not returning to Gregory Hill until after lunch. I managed to use this time to research the ing files, looking for Chris’s information. As far as Lydia knew, I was doing work for the audit. It didn’t take long before I found what Chris needed. I took copies, which I hid in my briefcase. Then, on a whim, I decided to carry my research a step further. I felt badly for the way I had treated Chris, especially last night on the phone. So I decided to talk with Roland and find out for what purpose we rented the storage unit. I had never really paid a visit to him, so I figured I could play the innocent and see what information I could get out of him. I headed for plant services. As I walked through the maintenance door, the warmth of the furnace and boiler room surprised me. Compared to the outside, this place was hot. I removed my jacket. Winifred had told me she thought Roland was in his office, but he wasn’t here. I opened the heavy metal door to the boiler room. Roland was standing beside the boiler, his back to me, apparently resting for a moment. He held a broom in one hand. To his right, the door to the boiler was partly open, revealing the fire inside. I started laughing out loud. The image, of the tall Roland in his dark red jacket, holding the broom, reminded me of pictures of Satan in hell. Both Heidi, who had been sleeping in her bed, and Roland, jumped. “Oh, Roland, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Heidi came over, and I rubbed her ears. “You looked so funny, just like the devil himself in Hades, the way you were standing there.” Roland was amused, but pretended to be hurt. “I hope you don’t think I’m the devil, Claire!” “Of course not, Roland! You just look like him, that’s all.” I knelt down, and Heidi laid her head across my lap. I scratched her neck. “She likes you, Claire. Do you have dogs?” “We did when I was younger. My husband and I have never had pets, as Gene has allergies. But I love dogs.”

“It shows. Would you like to see pictures of Heidi’s mother? And some of her siblings?” Roland led me to the outer office, where it was much cooler. He took a folder of pictures from his desk drawer. I ired the photos. “I always thought Shelties were just collies with shorter legs. Heidi is the first Sheltie I’ve known. She’s very smart.” “They’re good herding dogs, and good pets. Like any dog, though, they reflect the way they’re brought up. All my dogs are raised as part of the family, are very protective, and gentle.” “And playful, too, Roland. I’ve seen Heidi when she just doesn’t want to stop.” I ed the day we planted the spring bulbs. “So, Roland, tell me about the boiler in there.” I nodded toward the closed steel door. “Did you and Jo-An get the capital project finished for the Board? What is the objective? To replace the entire system?” Roland sat down, and motioned to me to do the same. “Jo-An must be away today, huh?” He grinned at me. There was no fooling him. I nodded. “Well, we, or she, prepared two plans. One is the cost of replacing the existing boiler with a new model, while keeping the same type of heating system. The second proposal, which is more logical for the future, but more expensive, breaks the project into five years, with installing a new boiler in year one along with the heating system in the istration building, and adding building renovations each additional year. She’s talking about major fund raising and using endowments to make this possible.” I was curious about the expense of operating the present system. “How often does this system run?” “Constantly. Even in the summer, it runs to keep the water hot. And, in the winter, like now, it runs constantly.” “Does it ever break down?” “Not really. We do periodic maintenance on the boiler. I shut it down for one week in July, when the service contractor comes in. I have basic parts, like valves and rings, on hand to do my own simple fixes. The system is good, just expensive to run. The newer technology is much more efficient.”

“So what else do you do, Roland, besides taking care of the monster here, although this seems like a full time job in itself? Do you find it difficult sometimes working for Jo-An?” I decided to ask him outright. He hesitated a moment. “I’ve been here a long time, and am looking forward to retirement and traveling with my wife. Bob was a great heaster, but maybe I’m saying that because he was male and closer to my age and we’d worked together for many years. Jo-An is new and it’s not fair for me to judge her harshly. She’s been real good to me and my wife. Phyllis hasn’t been well, has arthritis, and Jo-An found her a real good specialist in Burlington, same one as her own mother goes to. She also helped my grandson get a job interview, and job, in Washington, through a friend of hers. I don’t always agree with some of what she says or does, but I’d just as soon stay on the edge. She hasn’t hurt me none, but I’ve heard some of the nasty things she does to you people in the office.” I’ll bet you don’t know how she treats Heidi, I thought, and decided it would serve no purpose telling him. I changed the subject. “Say, I was filing some bills away and noticed a bill from the Dayville SelfStore. What do we store there?” I acted nonchalant, bending down to pet Heidi, who was lying at my feet. “Well, we ran out of room up here. The basements of the dorms are for student storage. So that leaves istration, because the Commons doesn’t have a basement. The two academic buildings’ storage rooms are filled with books, supplies, desks, chairs, whatever. If you’ve been in ’s basement, you’ll notice all the storage rooms are filled with file cabinets, extra dorm beds, mattresses, bureaus, and boxes. Any extra space has to be used for fire-proof cabinets for old records and files. So, we just plain ran out of room for extra conference room chairs, folding tables for when we have a party or event in the Commons, stuff like that. Bob didn’t mind that we stacked chairs around the edge of the conference room, or put chair racks along the walls in the dining rooms. But Jo-An blew her top when she first came here. Said it was too messy and cluttered. She rented a unit at the self-store, so I run back and forth with my pickup as needed.” “What’s down there now, Roland? I’m just curious, as I was thinking of renting a place for my personal belongings. We had a whole house to move up here from

Connecticut.” I thought of how we had crammed everything into Flo’s when we moved in November. “I could take you down there sometime. Right now, it’s got about fifteen armchairs, ten folding tables, a couple of beds, other things. Jo-An keeps a list. If you want to go, however, I need to get the key from Jo-An. She keeps it on her big key ring.” “I don’t need to see it, Roland. I may just go ask them to let me look at an empty one.” I decided to change the subject. “May I see the pictures again? If I decide to get a dog someday, would you be able to help me?” Roland was pleased to talk about his dogs. The first week of December continued to be particularly cold and nasty. We had snow practically every day, although some days we were blessed with only flurries or a dusting. Driving, for me, was always a challenge, as the roads were constantly wet or frozen, with the temperatures dipping into the single numbers at night and only reaching the high twenty’s during the day. One miserable dark, gray day, a couple of days before the Board meeting, I arrived at work earlier than usual. The first bell hadn’t rung yet, and the students were probably all lingering in the commons, not daring to venture out until they absolutely had to. I could see Laura’s car in the lot, and Roland’s of course, but not many more mentors had arrived as yet. I had been arriving earlier and earlier, it seemed, since my reprimand at Thanksgiving. Gene was concerned; actually, still angry that I had not made a bigger issue out of that situation. I knew this was Jo-An’s way of controlling me, but I was too intimidated when caught off guard, to do much more than defend myself and the people who worked for me. I had just taken off my coat when Jo-An appeared, breathless, in my doorway. She plopped into the visitor’s chair, her face all smiles. “Tell me what you think of my idea.” She leaned forward and crossed her arms on the edge of my desk, staring me in the eye. “Ok,” I replied, “What is your idea?” “Well, you know how Ellen has a lot of financial problems, with kiddos to raise, and trying to keep her household going. Well, Ellen’s a ed nurse, and you were saying the other day how you were thinking of finding a home health nurse to look in on Gene. Why not hire Ellen? She can certainly manage to schedule

the hours around both jobs; she needs the money, and she’s very competent. What do you think?” She leaned back, waiting for my answer. I couldn’t think of a valid reason not to use Ellen. I liked her; in fact, I felt sorry for her, whatever her personal problems. They didn’t seem to interfere with the quality of her work. The reason I was mentally objecting had nothing to do with Ellen. Why did it bother me so much that this was Jo-An’s idea? But, I rationalized, my growing dislike of Jo-An has nothing to do with Gene’s nursing needs. I smiled. “Jo-An, I think it’s a great idea. What about Ellen, though? Do you think she’d want to?” “I hope you don’t mind, but I knew you’d agree to this. I spoke with Ellen last night, and she said she’d be very interested in helping you out. I told her the two of you could work out the details.” I was boiling inside, but I tried not to show it. “Thank you, Jo-An. I’ll see Ellen today. Now, can we talk about those payroll changes you wanted me to make?” I changed the subject, trying to control my temper, and began to realize why I pitied Ellen so much.

Chapter 9

I met Ellen the next evening in her office, after intentionally choosing a night when I knew Jo-An would be off-campus. I also didn’t ask Ellen if she could meet with me until after I saw Jo-An leave the building and drive away. As devious as it sounded, I didn’t want Jo-An present at our meeting. This was between Ellen and me, and involved patient confidentiality. I wasn’t about to discuss my husband’s personal problems in front of Jo-An. I found Ellen in her office about five o’clock. She was sitting at her desk, staring at the wall. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she seemed thinner than ever. Her hair was lackluster and dull instead of the shiny strawberry shade I ed from our first meeting. “Hi, Ellen. What’s wrong?” I sat down in her spare chair. She looked up, vacantly, at me. “Nothing. I’m sorry, I was thinking about my kids. It’s tough to get them to do their homework, especially with Christmas in just two weeks.” I felt like I was intruding in her private life, so I came right to the point. “Jo-An spoke with me about your helping us with Gene. Is this something you’d like to do, and have the time to take on?” Ellen seemed surprised for a moment, then answered, “Oh, yes, your husband. MS, right? Sure, I might be able to help. Can you describe for me what his condition is at the present, and what kind of help you need?” So I explained how it was becoming more time consuming and difficult for us to help bathe and dress Gene. Also, there were now several hours of physical therapy he needed to do every day, and how it would be good if a professional could help with the morning session. I also told her Gene was diabetic, and could no longer ister his own insulin injections. Ellen thought for a moment. “I can do all of that. Is the best time of day between nine and twelve, do you think, for when you would need me?”

I agreed, as Flo and I could manage fine in the evenings. Then we discussed money. “I can sure use the extra income, Claire. Thanks. Now, just one last thing. I’d like to meet Gene. I want him to feel comfortable with me, and I can explain to him what we’ll be doing and how I will do it. There are different techniques to lifting and moving patients, and I’ll be able to give you and your in-laws some tips. But I want to make sure he approves.” Ellen was a true professional, and I knew that Gene would like her. “Of course. When can you come over? What day is best?” “How about Saturday morning?” We settled on eleven a.m., and I stood up to leave. Ellen, though, had become talkative and didn’t want to stop. “So, how’s the job going for you, Claire? We never get a chance to talk. Are you fitting in ok with life up here?” “It’s fine. I just wish Gene were well, but I have to face reality and know he never will be. But things are ok. I have all my friends here at the Academy, in church, and wonderful family. Sometimes, though, I’m not certain of Jo-An’s moods, and how to take her criticism and blow-ups. How do you people manage? You’ve worked with her longer.” Ellen smiled, a bit sadly. “Jo-An’s a very nice person. There isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for you. But she needs to do it all, and be in control. I just let her. There’s no point in making waves. I need my job.” “But, Ellen, you seem like such a strong, assertive woman. How can you hold it back?” I lied a little, hoping she would share a little more with me. Ellen fidgeted in her chair. “You mean I used to be. I don’t have the energy any more. Some days, it’s all I can do just to come in to work.” She looked nervously around the room. “Please don’t share this with anyone.” “Of course not, Ellen.” She continued, her voice lower. “I’m looking forward to working for you. I’ve

often thought of going into private duty. Maybe when my kids are older.” “Does the stress of working for Jo-An get to you?” “Don’t be so hard on her, Claire. She’s had a rough life. Yes, don’t look so surprised. She has. Her father died when she was a teen. She idolized him. He was her role model, and I guess she took his death real hard.” “How did he die?” “A heart attack, I think. The night before her high school graduation. She worshipped him. Then, years later, while she was in graduate school in England, she started dating someone. They got engaged, and he died of complications from the flu.” “Wow! How do you know all this, Ellen?” “Her mother told me once. I had been looking at her father’s picture on the mantel.” “You’ve met her mother? I heard no one has been inside the house.” Ellen laughed. “Yes, I have. Mrs. Senecal started taking injections for her arthritis. I go over once a week to give her the shots. She’s a nice lady, but very lonely. Jo-An and I are her only sources of company, I believe.” I began to feel some sympathy towards Jo-An and her personal life. “By the way, Claire, I was wondering if I might audit the class you’re teaching on computer software.” “Well, it’s really not a class, because Jo-An didn’t want me to start it until next term. But when I got the lab set up last month, several seniors approached Cindy about getting started with the class, so Jo-An agreed to let six students work with me. What specifically do you want to learn? We’ve been covering all sorts of things, as I don’t really have a structure at this time.” “I know absolutely nothing. My kids have their own computer at home, so I thought if I learned the basics, it would help a little.”

“Sure. Most kids know all the fun stuff about the Internet, but we’re covering the business aspects: network and Cloud, directories, file management, Excel, Word, PowerPoint, anything people want to learn. Feel free to us. Classes are from three to four on Tuesday and Thursday.” “Thanks. I’d like to sit in.” On Saturday, Ellen’s meeting with Gene went very well. They hit it off at once. As Gene was using his wheelchair often now, our biggest challenge in the family was transferring him to the tub, toilet or bed. Ellen spent an hour with us going over a lot of helpful tips. We were in the living room where Jack and I had set up a Christmas tree the week before. The four of us had decorated it last Sunday, and it was really beautiful. Ellen was now iring the decorations, a mixture of Flo’s family heirlooms and mine from my mom and dad. Ellen was intrigued by the hand painted, glazed animals, of many species. “What are these made of?” She asked, stroking an orange tabby cat ornament. “Cookie dough,” Flo answered. “I’ve had them for years. We made a lot with the grandchildren a few years back. There are giraffes, horses, cows, dogs, everything.” Ellen was iring a giraffe. “Take it, Ellen. Go ahead, if you’d like it.” Ellen looked at Flo for a moment, finally taking the ornament off the tree. She turned it over in her hand, studying the painting and glazing. “Are you sure?” Flo nodded. What happened next totally surprised me, and embarrassed Jack and Gene. Ellen suddenly burst into tears, and threw her arms around Flo. “Thank you so much, Flo. No one has ever given me anything like this.” She paused, and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get emotional. It’s just, well, you’ve got such a warm family, and I’ve never felt such warmth and happiness as I do here. I’ll cherish this giraffe forever.” She regained her composure, and turned to me. “I can be here at nine Monday, if that’s ok?” I walked her to her car, showing her where we kept a house key hidden behind the name plaque “Phillips” on the house.

The next two weeks were extremely busy. The students were preparing for finals, as the semester ended officially three days before Christmas Eve., followed by a three week break. Everyone was busy studying, or slipping into Burlington to go shopping whenever they could, or in my case, preparing for my January audit. In addition, Jo-An had asked for several of the mentors to help her with decorations and plans for the Christmas party. We had already hung wreaths and garlands, most of which Jo-An had gathered and tied herself. I found her in the conference room early one morning putting wreaths together. “Jo-An! Here you are. I was wondering if you would approve this schedule for next semester’s Windows and economics classes I’m teaching.” I bent over the table to ire her work. Jo-An had a pile of greens, red berries, pinecones, and wire on the table and chairs, and several finished garlands and wreaths. “Just leave the schedule on my desk. I’ll look it over when I’m done here.” She seemed to be in a good mood. “Those are really pretty, Jo-An. I’ve never been able to put together anything that even looks like a wreath.” I lied to flatter her. In reality, Flo and I were fairly good at this kind of thing, having already decorated our house. But there was no point in competing with her, even verbally. “Where do you find the greens and things? Back in Hartford, we’d just go to a craft store.” “Well, most of these I found just driving around. The last few days, whenever I had meetings out of town, if I saw a good clump of something alongside the road, I’d just stop and pick. I always carry a tarp and some sharp scissors in my car.” She laughed. “Don’t tell anyone this, but you know the flower bed down by the brook? Well, in the spring, you’ll see some gorgeous irises there. I found those last year alongside a stream up north of here. I keep a shovel in the car, so I can dig things up as I find them.” She laughed again. “We need to go on some scouting trips, Claire, and find some more plants for the grounds. Let’s do that when spring comes!” By now, Jo-An was animated and really excited about her acquisitions. I changed the subject. I secretly hoped that by spring she would forget about the plants. I dreaded the thought of traipsing around in the woods with her, digging up the wrong plant and getting scolded for it. “About tomorrow. Is there anything else you think we need to put together for the Board?”

Jo-An and I were leaving early to drive to Wellesley for the December Board meeting. As there wouldn’t be another meeting until February, we wanted to have as much data as we could think of, over and beyond the usual agenda. “No, I think you’ve got most of it, Claire. Just make enough copies for everyone, and be prepared for Mrs. Fuller’s usual remarks about endowments. That woman exasperates me. Why doesn’t she come up here herself and do fund raising? Or do it from wherever she lives, in some castle in Newport.” Jo-An made a face, and twisted the garland in her hand so hard she broke it. She threw it to the floor. “Cheap wire. Claire, would you get me the package of wire on my desk? Thanks. Be ready to leave here by seven tomorrow.” She was piling more greens on the table and didn’t look up. The following morning, I was at work by six-thirty. The weather was slightly warmer, with temperatures in the mid-thirties. Jack said it was warming up to snow again. But not today. The sky was deep blue, like summer, even though the sun was very low in the sky. We left promptly at seven. Jo-An planned on a three and a half hour drive to the campus of Wellesley College, where the Board met, as one of the was on the faculty there. Our meeting was at eleven. For the next three hours, I listened to Jo-An talk non-stop about all the plans she had for the next semester and next fall. Not only was she planning curriculum changes, but restructuring the capital plans and making general building improvements. By the time we crossed the Massachusetts border into Lawrence, I was exhausted from listening to her. I hoped I could stay awake in the Board meeting. The meeting went better than I expected. We hadn’t met since the first and only one I had attended, as November’s had been cancelled. Arthur had polled the , and they all felt that the December meeting should be sufficient with which to end the first semester. Arthur kept to the agenda this time, seeming to beat Jo-An to the punch. He was also better at shutting her off before she could monopolize the conversation. I took courage from his lead, and when my turn came to speak, and I could see Jo-An open her mouth to talk, I jumped in faster than she could. I noticed several of the board glance at each other, and I hoped my strategy met with their approval. My part of the meeting ended after an hour, and I was excused. As I stood up to leave, Arthur spoke.

“Thank you, Claire. Those were wonderful reports. I think I speak for everyone in the room when I say I’m glad you ed us at Gregory Hill. You’ve done a nice job.” He turned to Jo-An. “And we can assume you’ll take care of Claire at her six-month review with a nice raise?” As I left the room, Jo-An was assuring the board that everyone’s reviews and raises were up-to-date. I found a small library/sitting room and made myself comfortable with a book I had brought with me. About quarter to one, Mrs. Fuller found me and invited me to them for lunch. I gladly obliged, as I was starving. Lunch was a buffet in an elegant private dining room. Even before I entered the room, I could hear Jo-An talking a steady stream. I watched her as she piled food onto her plate and after sitting down with Arthur and a few others, absently shoveled the food into her mouth as she talked, never stopping once to listen. I ate with Mrs. Fuller, Dr. Cates and Ben Jacobs, and learned quite a bit about the fund raising efforts of other private schools whose caliber was similar to Gregory Hill. Kate Fuller and the other board had extensive experience in capital fund raising, which we would so desperately need. Finally, around two, Jo-An and I began our long drive home. Long for me. Jo-An bragged about how she had done this so many times, she could do it in her sleep. “I hope you don’t.” I laughed, attempting to make a joke of her comment. “Do what?” Jo-An didn’t catch the humor. “Sleep. You said you could do it in your sleep.” I hated to explain jokes. “Oh, ha ha. That’s funny.” Jo-An finally caught it. “So, how do you think the meeting went?” “I thought it was good. Arthur seemed to have his act together better than last time I met him, although I really shouldn’t judge after only two meetings.” “That’s all right. Arthur’s an idiot. I thought this meeting was an absolute bore. They listened to our reports, asked a few questions, but we never got into any good discussions. Sometimes I wonder if they really care about the school.” I was shocked. Jo-An really did have a distorted focus. She saw things only from her point of view, and never tried to put herself into someone else’s shoes. I

asked another question. “So, what kinds of things did you discuss after I left? Non-financial? Was there anything interesting in that session?” Jo-An didn’t reply. I glanced at her, and saw that cold riveted stare on her face. Finally she answered. “Not much. Just general stuff about the school. We did talk a bit about the bids for the boiler and furnace upgrades. They can’t seem to decide amongst themselves if we should do it all at once or piecemeal. They’re putting it on the February agenda to vote on in Executive Session. Give me a break.” She appeared disgusted, and we drove on for several miles in silence. “Oh,” Jo-An interrupted the silence as we were crossing the Connecticut River into Vermont. “One other thing. I planned on giving you your six-month hiring review right after the holidays, when things quiet down and we have some time during the semester break.” She paused, and I sensed the ominous. “But don’t count on an increase.” Her voice was flat and cold. I knew I couldn’t take this without an argument, especially after what Arthur had said. Very politely, without emotion, I replied. “Oh? What is the rationale for that? Hasn’t my work been satisfactory?” Jo-An became very pompous. “Your work is fine. But I cannot justify giving you an increase when I have so many other staff who are just barely keeping their heads above water.” “What do you mean by that?” I was growing furious, that she would base my increase on the needs of other staff. She continued, in her authoritative, high-and-mighty tone. “How can I give you a raise, when you have a husband and in-laws to help you? When I have people like Ellen, and Laura, and Marilyn, who are ing families on one income, or in the case of Laura, whose two incomes are almost equal to your one? Is this social justice?” I bit my lip. I wanted to smack her. Never in my career had my lifestyle been the basis for a pay increase. I tried a different approach. “What has my husband got to do with whether I get a raise or not? You hired me, not him.” I tried not to show my anger.

Jo-An was ready with her reply. “You chose to get married. You have chosen to stay married. You have benefited from two good salaries for a long time. I’ve had several staff mention to me about how well off you are. In fact, a few of them have even complained to me that because you are more privileged and more well-to-do than some of the students that you seem to be favored more by the Board and by me. I’ve had all I could do to dispel those ideas, but because of them, I can’t possibly treat you any greater than I would them.” She tossed her head back, keeping her eyes firmly focused on the highway. I was burning, with anger and humiliation. My common sense kicked in, however, and my instincts told me that this story could not be true. I didn’t believe for one minute that there was a staff member or student who thought those things. If anyone, it was Jo-An. I decided to ask her, as calmly and humbly as I could, but not without a bit of sarcasm in my voice. “I’m so sorry that people feel that way. I had no idea that I had offended anyone with my lifestyle. May I ask, confidentially of course, who is offended, that I might take special care not to offend them again?” Jo-An’s reply confirmed what I thought. She obviously hadn’t expected me to ask, and hesitated for a second. “Well, it’s really some of the students, the ones here on scholarships, from underprivileged backgrounds. They confide in Laura and Ellen, you know. I think it’s best if, for the next semester, you limit your computer and economics classes to the seniors. I have a list of those students who have expressed an interest, and I’ll give you those names when we get back. In the meantime, it would be good if you kept a low profile until this blows over.” I had never felt more like crying in my whole life, but I knew I couldn’t let her see how it was affecting me. I realized how easy it was to give up, and give in, and become one of her subjects, like Cindy and Laura. She was trying to break me, and I didn’t know why. Was she jealous? Had this happened because Arthur had complimented me? My face was turned to the right, and I was watching the scenery flash by. I had to say something. “May I turn on the radio? Maybe we can get a weather forecast.” I reached for the radio, and found a White River station. There is no way I’m going to share this story with Gene, I thought. I’m too upset, and it will only upset him. I’ve got to deal with this on my own. For the rest of the trip, Jo-An and I made small talk

about gardening and more plans for spring. She never brought the subject up again, and I figured by the time my review came up in January, I would be prepared with all the right questions. I would even talk with the Board, if necessary. I threw myself into my audit preparation at work, and Christmas preparations at church. Seth had changed rehearsals to Sundays following church for the month of December, as it was easier for people to make one trip in the week instead of two. Also, the church was warm by eleven a.m., whereas on Monday nights, it took too long to warm up the church hall for a one-hour practice. Our concert was scheduled for next Sunday, the Sunday before Christmas. We didn’t have any more rehearsals, but Seth wanted us at church for nine o’clock, for a quick run-through. When Sunday came, Flo, Jack and I managed to get Gene dressed and into the car with little trouble. I was excited, and a little nervous. This was my first performance at this church, not counting regular singing every Sunday. Seth had warned us that because we were the only church with a concert for about twenty miles, we should expect a full house. He had also d us with his students and theater group in Burlington, many of whom were coming down for the day. Following the service, of which our concert would be about half an hour, the Henshaws were hosting an open house for the afternoon. It was going to be a fun day. I was sitting in the back seat with Gene as we drove up to the church. “Look how beautiful the church is!” I was amazed at how serene the church looked, a blanket of new snow from Friday night still covering the roof. The day was dark and overcast, and the clouds were leaking leftover flakes from the storm. The church was certainly the focal point of the town common. Sally and Roger had made two large wreaths for the front doors, simple greens, garnished with large blue bows for Advent. In each window, they had placed a single electric candle, burning a blue bulb. The sight was breathtaking. We helped Gene into his wheelchair and up the newly shoveled pathway to the front door and the handicapped ramp. I ran downstairs to find the choir beginning their practice warm-ups. Seth had been right: the church was full. During the first part of the service, I was only half paying attention to Rev. Henshaw. The beauty of the church, the

peace, the Christmas season, all overwhelmed me. I occasionally glanced at Gene, sitting in his wheelchair at the end of the first row, and smiled at him. He would smile back and wink. The church was carpeted wall-to-wall in a soft blue color. In the very center of the ceiling hung a huge chandelier with many crystal droplets and dozens of electric candles. Because the walls, pews and ceiling were white, the effect was ethereal, except the sky was on the bottom and the snow above. I snapped to attention as I heard Seth playing the first notes of our concert. The next half hour flew by. Although this was a Christmas concert, the arrangements were not Christmas hymns or carols. Seth had selected and arranged several works spanning the church year and culminating with Advent, or the coming of Christ. Our finale was a glorious rendition of “How Great Thou Art,” received with a standing ovation by the congregation. I was flushed with excitement and accomplishment, and felt so moved to be a part of this Christmas at First Church. Following the service, everyone migrated across the common to the Henshaw’s house, where they had a fantastic buffet set up, mulled ciders, wine and roaring fires in the stove and fireplace. Flo and Jack stayed for a few minutes with Gene, to wish everyone a merry Christmas, and then left for home. Roger and Sally had offered to drive me home later. The house filled quickly with people. Seth’s students and friends were funny and entertaining. Sally and I slipped upstairs with Denise to see the baby, who had fallen asleep during “How Great Thou Art” and was still out. I was sipping a mulled wine, garnished with oranges and cloves. “Denise, when Naomi wakes up, can I help you feed her?” I was starting to feel a little warm from the wine, and couldn’t believe I was asking this question. I was not a baby person, and had never even babysat when I was younger. “Sure. You can change her, too.” Denise and Sally started laughing, and we quickly left the room before waking Naomi. I followed them downstairs, and found the buffet. I figured it would be a good idea if I ate something. I had been too nervous this morning to eat breakfast, which was probably why the wine was going right to my head. The rooms downstairs were crowded, and filled with laughter and lots of talking.

I found a corner in the living room, behind David’s easy chair, and sat down on the floor with my plate of food. I had a good visual command of the living room, kitchen and study from here, where I could enjoy watching people as I ate. I was suddenly too tired to socialize. Three of Seth’s students were talking with Sally and Wendy when Denise answered the front door and greeted a late arrival. The young woman came into the living room, removing her coat, amidst shrieks of welcome from Sally, Wendy and the students. Within seconds, everyone was hugging and kissing the newcomer, Ali. She was obviously someone they had not seen in a while. Ken came into the room, and when she saw him, ran over and gave him a long embrace. Something else that caught my attention had nothing to do with welcoming a friend from the past, but reaffirmed friendships from the present. I was keenly aware, as I watched these people mingle with each other, of the hand upon shoulder, or hand touching arm, or warm embrace, that seemed to be a natural part of life between them. I felt a twisting in my stomach, and tears welling behind my eyes, as I realized they had so much more emotion and love in this one house than I had ever experienced. Not sure of what was happening to me or why, I set my plate on the floor and began to cry. I tried to stop, but the tears kept running down my cheeks. I turned to get my paper napkin, when Seth handed me a clean one. He had crawled into my corner from the other side, and sat cross-legged now, looking at me. “Are you going to be ok?” I nodded, too embarrassed to look up at him. I sniffled instead. “I happened to notice you a few minutes ago from the kitchen, and I thought, what a great place to get away from the noise. It’s also easier to eat on the floor than standing up.” I regained my composure enough to speak. “Thanks, Seth, for the small talk. You should be a diplomat or ambassador or something. I’m ok now.” He smiled. “I am an ambassador of sorts, but then, aren’t we all? Isn’t it why we’re here?” He reached out and touched my shoulder, and I burst into tears all

over again. “I’m going to get you a cup of coffee, and plenty of paper napkins. When I get back, will you tell me what’s wrong? Or should I get Denise or Sally?” I shook my head in the negative, and Seth hurried off. He returned shortly with two coffees and more napkins. “Ok, do you want to tell me? You don’t have to. I was only kidding. But if you need to talk, like I said once before, I might understand.” I blew my nose and looked at him. His eyes were so nice and kind. “Oh, Seth, thanks for being so thoughtful. But it’s not what you think. It’s just so, well, dumb.” I sniffed again. “Nothing’s dumb if it makes you cry.” His voice was low and calm, and all the other voices in the background were blurred roars. I took a sip of the coffee. “I’m not sure what happened to me. I had a couple of mulled wines, and they went right to my head. Then, I came back here to eat, and all of a sudden, the emotion of watching everyone, of the friendships, the love, hit me. It hurt so much…” My voice disappeared. “Why did it hurt, Claire?” He gently coaxed me, although I as yet did not know how to say what was bothering me. I took a deep breath. “I think my life has been too protected, too narrow. I haven’t been exposed to many people, outside of former business friends and coworkers. My family, although loving, never showed love or emotion to each other. My mother died when I was sixteen, and my dad right after I got married. They were good providers, but very independent and taught us to be, too. Never, never in my life did I ever receive a hug or a kiss from my folks. There was the utmost love and respect between us, but never any demonstrated affections. I watching girlfriends get goodbye kisses from their moms, or hugs from their fathers, and feeling embarrassed to be witnessing these displays. So I guess the friends I chose, the parties I went to, were all nice, professional, and non-emotional. It wasn’t until today that I suddenly realized what I’ve missed.” The tears started up again, and I buried my head in a napkin. Seth took me by the arm. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. You need the cold air.” He hurried me into the back hallway, where he grabbed two heavy jackets from

the coat rack. “Slip this on. It’s Denise’s. Put your hands in your pockets.” He opened the back door, and we stepped out into the back yard. The blast of cold air hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought my tears would freeze on my face. My teeth began to chatter. Seth laughed. “It was too warm in the house, that’s why you’re chattering. But I don’t think you can cry and chatter at the same time. Try to stay warm.” He was making me laugh, and it was working. I continued my explanation through chattering teeth. “Don’t get me wrong. My life isn’t completely loveless. Finding Gene was the best thing that ever happened to me. When I met Flo and Jack for the first time, and Gene’s sisters, I knew I had found the family I never had. But it’s still more than that. When I watched everyone today, I realized they were reaffirming themselves to each other. I guess the ache and longing I felt was that of being on the outside looking in, and desiring so much to be embraced by these people. Not just spiritually, as I have been since I moved here, but physically. I need that physical touch!” I blurted the last words out in a desperate whisper. I don’t think Seth had been prepared for my life’s history, because he just stood there, staring at me, like I was some kind of nut. But I felt better. “Seth, I could use another cup of coffee. I’m going to stay away from the mulled wine, ’cause I think it has loosened my lips.” I turned to open the door. “Thank you for listening to me, and for caring. I really mean that. I am so glad I came to Vermont and had the chance to meet people like you.” As I opened the door, I heard Seth reply. “I’m glad you came to Vermont, too.” I had another cup of coffee, and mingled with the other guests. About three o’clock, I found Sally and asked if they could take me home. As we were leaving, saying our goodbye’s and thank you’s to the Henshaw’s, Seth ed us at the door. He shook Roger’s hand, gave Sally a big hug, and as they went out the door, he turned to me. Before I knew it, Seth embraced me, too. As he stepped back, he held my hand for a second. “Thank you, Claire, for reminding me not to take things for granted. Merry Christmas.” “Thank you, Seth, for your friendship and concern. Merry Christmas.”

Chapter 10

The Christmas festivities at the Academy were wonderful. Beginning with Monday morning, the day after the First Church concert, the Academy was a bustle of activity. The teachers all commented on how they had a difficult time to ister final exams and keep the students’ attention during this week. The students complained how they couldn’t find enough time to study, take exams, go shopping and pack for vacation. The week culminated on Tuesday noon, beginning with a party for parents, staff and students Monday evening, and ending with a brunch Tuesday at ten. By noon time Tuesday, the campus was rapidly emptying out, with students saying goodbye’s and rushing off with their parents for the three week holiday. The staff were tired, too. All the preparations, from exams, to decorations, to parties, both on campus and private, to shopping, had taken its toll. Some of the teachers, like Sherry and Laura, were already complaining of flu-like symptoms, while other staff , like Roland and George, had sore throats and colds. So far, I had remained healthy, not caring to bring any germs home to Gene. JoAn didn’t even want to discuss illness. As she proudly informed us at the last staff meeting, she had not been sick or had a cold since she was in grade school, and she was just too healthy to catch anything. If we were sick, she had said, it was because we weren’t taking care of ourselves properly. Laura had kicked me under the table, and I had all I could do to keep a straight face as Jo-An lectured us about hand hygiene. Now that the students were gone, the staff relaxed. I hadn’t seen Jo-An much at all that week, as she had been busy with Edgar and food preparations for all the parties. Winifred was getting ready to go home for the day, and I asked her if she had all her shopping done. “Not yet, Claire. I’m going into Burlington now for a few hours, but I should be about done. You know I won’t be in tomorrow, so I won’t see you again until next Monday. Merry Christmas. Here’s something for you.” She handed me a silver and blue wrapped present. “Oh, Winifred, thank you! And I have something for you.” I took a gift from my

shopping bag and handed it to her with a hug. “Merry Christmas.” “You know, Claire, you weren’t here last year, so you don’t know how different it feels.” “What do you mean?” I was curious. “Well, last year was a zoo. I mean, totally chaotic. The party we had last night was on Sunday last year, and it was huge. Jo-An had hired a small string orchestra, and a caterer to help Edgar, and there was dancing and everything. This year, well, what did you think?” I was surprised. I had just assumed that the party last night was the same as last year’s. “The buffet was excellent. Edgar did a nice job. But it doesn’t sound like last year. Why?” “I overheard some of the parents asking the same question. We assumed because it was in the middle of the week, and it wasn’t as convenient as having it on the weekend. But it seemed to me that Jo-An just wasn’t interested in the party. Did you notice she was there for only a few minutes, to get a plate of food? The students played their CD’s. Jo-An ran off somewhere. Marilyn thought she was with Ellen all evening.” “I’m glad it wasn’t a big party. I wasn’t in the mood. But I’ll see you next week.” I ed what I’d heard about last year’s party and Jo-An’s turning point with Kevin. I was glad we didn’t have any episodes like that this year. The only upsetting issue didn’t have to do with Christmas, but another policy change that Lydia indirectly brought to my attention. I was in the process of reviewing the week’s gross payroll numbers to make the bank transfers, and realized that the totals looked unusually large. I called Lydia. “Lydia, do you know why the payroll totals are about $25,000 larger this week than usual? I mean, I know there were Christmas bonuses, but that only s for about $5,000 of it. Do you know offhand, or can you bring in the ?” She hesitated. “I’ll bring in the reports.” And hung up. Oh, God, I thought, now what? Lydia came in, and plunked the binder down on my desk. The employees were listed alphabetically, and the page was open to Roland’s name. Lydia pointed to his weekly earnings. ‘Regular Earnings,

$940.00. Overtime, $0.00’ That was fine, as he was salary and did not get overtime. ‘Other Earnings, $20,000.00.’ I almost shot out of my chair. For one week? “Lydia, close the door.” My face was flaming hot, and Lydia looked scared. “What is this all about? Did you process the payroll with that figure in there?” She nodded. I continued, very angry and upset. “Without telling me? And is it correct?” “Yes, it is. Here is the note from Jo-An. And I’m sorry, Claire, for not telling you. It’s been so hectic and crazy around here that I never had a chance. Whenever I’d think of it, I’d get interrupted and forget.” She fumbled nervously with the folder in her hand. I read the note.

‘Lydia - please pay Roland an additional $20,000.00 in this week’s pay, as a separate check. Put it in the Other Earnings category. Call it a one-time bonus. Jo-An. 12/20.’

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Lydia shook her head. “Did it ever occur to you that it could be a mistake? She must have meant $200.00.” Lydia spoke up. “I thought that, too, and left a voice message for Jo-An, asking her that. She left me a message - wait, I saved it. Listen.” She picked up my phone, and dialed into the voice messaging, retrieving the message. I listened to Jo-An’s confirmation that the amount was exactly as written, $20,000.00. “Oh, jeez.” It was not like me to swear, but this took the cake. I sat down. “What are you going to do?” Lydia asked. I weighed my options, and sighed. I didn’t have the energy for a fight, although my curiosity was killing me as to why Roland deserved such a large bonus. But, as far as audit documentation, we had her note, so what did I care.

“I’m going to transfer the payroll, Lydia. Thank you, and I apologize for being so nasty. Have a nice holiday.” Other than the crap at Gregory Hill, my first Christmas in Vermont was wonderful. Gene’s sisters and their families came for the long weekend, and my sister and her husband came up the day after Christmas, bringing sca with them, who had never been to Vermont. We had a great time; the weather held, and we played outdoors with Anne and Meredith’s children, sliding and making snow forts. Gene did very well, but tired easily, and napped several times a day. But everyone helped care for him, thus giving Ellen a long weekend also. Meredith’s husband Paul had known Gene in college, so were old friends. Paul helped out with the heavier tasks, and moving Gene in the wheelchair wasn’t practical in a crowded house. By Sunday afternoon, when everyone had gone home, the house was too quiet, too sad. Knowing how lonesome we would be afterward, Flo, in all her years of wisdom and experience, suggested to us on Saturday that we go to church Sunday morning before everyone left. Although the group was made up of Protestant, Catholic, and Jew, with sca being Jewish, we all agreed it was the best way to end the holiday. My choir was singing, anyway, as it was a normal Sunday, so the whole crowd set out for church. We weren’t the only ones in town with the same idea because, for all the parishioners out of town for the weekend, they were replaced by just as many visitors to those who had stayed at home for the holidays. We were missing only two choir , Ken and Marion, who had gone to Albany to their daughter’s. Roger had changed the blue bows and blue bulbs to white on Christmas Eve, and with the bright blue sky and sunshine, the church looked and felt totally different than it had a week ago. I hadn’t seen Seth to speak to before the service, but as we were hanging up our robes downstairs following the service, he came up behind me. “Hi, Claire. Merry Christmas. How are you today?” I turned around. “Much better than last week, thank you. And you? How was your Christmas? Did you stay here?” “It was wonderful. I flew out last Wednesday to my sister’s in New Jersey, and got back last night. I hadn’t seen her in two years. She’s coming up next summer

for two weeks with her family. Susan is a mezzo soprano with the Met, and travels a lot. But she’s planning on this vacation. I think you’ll like her.” I was impressed. “I’ve never met an opera star.” “She’s not really a star. She’s a member of the chorus, waiting for her big moment. It took a long time just to get into the Met.” We were interrupted by Louise, who had come looking for me. She ed Seth, and they shook hands. “Great prelude, Seth. You really put life into that wonderful pipe organ. A church I belonged to for years had an old Holbrook, but no one ever played it the way you do. I love listening to you.” Louise was sincerely impressed. She had studied piano for years as a child, and had a greater appreciation for music than I. I could see that Seth was modestly pleased. That evening, after everyone had left, the house was too quiet. Over supper, Flo tried to make small talk, but it was obvious we were feeling the effects of transitioning from a hectic, busy Christmas weekend to being just the four of us again. Jack stood up, announcing, “I think it’s Claire’s and my turn to do the dishes, Flo. Why don’t you and Gene go have a game of cribbage?” When we had everything cleaned up, and I was putting the last dish away, Jack said, “How about some coffee?” “That sounds good. I could use some.” “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” as he filled the glass pot with water. “Is anything wrong?” “As a matter of fact, there is. I’m just so f’ing frustrated with something that I found out in work last week that I don’t know if it’s worth talking about.” “If it upsets you that much, it must be. Try.” We sat down at the kitchen table that Flo had decorated with a holly and candle center piece. I told him about the twenty-thousand dollar bonus to Roland. Jack raised an eyebrow slightly but otherwise didn’t seem surprised.

“Well, now a few things are starting to make sense.” He stood up to get the coffee. “How about a shot of bourbon with this?” I shook my head. “No, thanks. The coffee is fine.” Jack brought over the two mugs and sat back down. He looked me straight in the eye. “Look, there’s been a rumor going around for several weeks amongst the men in the department. Some of the boys on the trucks work part-time as police officers, and most everyone on the Highway Department is a volunteer fireman. So there’s no secrets between anyone. But you know the accident back at Halloween? The one George Rossi was in? Everyone said he hit a deer, but he didn’t. He was stinkin’ drunk. And if it wasn’t drinking, there were a couple of times in the past few years where he’d been caught with women other than his wife. Fortunately for him, on those occasions, the women were of consenting age, but rumors have always flown that he’d also been known to fondle a few of the students.” I think my face paled, because Jack said, “Want that drink now?” I nodded. While he poured us each a shot of whiskey on the rocks, he continued. “The story is that Fred fixed the whole accident so Rossi wouldn’t be charged. Don’t look so surprised, Claire. This stuff happens all the time. But it cost some money. I didn’t know exactly how much until you told me. But it would make sense for Jo-An to pay Roland, since Roland’s wife is Fred’s sister. And I’m sure Roland kept a few bucks for his services, too. Fred kept the whole thing from leaving the county; you know, nothing leaked to the state guys or the newspapers.” “OMG.” I poured another glass of whiskey and drank up. “What else do you have going on up here that I don’t know about? But Jack, this isn’t fair!” “Sure it is. Look, you had this stuff happening all the time in Connecticut. It was such a big place, you didn’t see it, that’s all. Come on, let’s face it, if that had been you in the car accident, let’s say, after a few drinks just like you’re doing right now,” he motioned with his hand towards the bottle, “you’d be damned glad there were Fred’s and Roland’s around to “fix” things, wouldn’t you?” “I don’t know.” “What would you rather? Go to court, lose your license for three months,

probably lose your job, scandalize the family? Ha. I don’t think so, Claire.” He finished his drink, downed his coffee, and stood up. “I’ve got an early morning.” He picked up the bottle. “You, too. I’m putting this away. I don’t want to find you here slumped over at 4 a.m.” Jack laughed. I didn’t feel much like laughing. My returning to work the next day helped alleviate the loneliness of our empty house. Most of the staff were back, except for George, Marilyn and Howard, who had taken a week or two each. George had healed fine after his leave of absence from the accident. As far as I could tell, no one else had heard the real story, or else had just not repeated it. I had auditors coming in right after New Year’s, and only a week left to have everything ready. Jo-An had been in early, and was already running around, handing out belated Christmas gifts. “Claire!” She caught me off guard, as she flew into my office, her hand outstretched with a large gift-wrapped package. “It was so busy last week, I figured I’d wait until today to these out.” “Why, thank you so much, Jo-An. This is so nice of you.” I stood there, holding the package, rather embarrassed that I hadn’t given her anything other than a Christmas card. “Go ahead, open it. I want to see how you like it.” I pulled the paper off the package, to find a large, framed picture of Heidi. It was a beautiful photograph, of Heidi lying under the large maple outside of Roland’s office. There was writing in the lower left, scrawled diagonally across the corner. “Merry Christmas, Claire. Love, Heidi.” I stood there, holding the picture, not sure how to react. This was not what I expected. Jo-An was anxious for my reply. “Well, what do you think? Isn’t it a great pose? I know how much you like Heidi, and that’s her favorite tree. The colors are great, don’t you think? I thought it would look nice in your office.” She motioned to the blank wall to my right. I found my voice. “Jo-An, it’s lovely. And so thoughtful of you, to choose something unique. May I hang it there?” I pointed to the wall. Jo-An fished in her blazer pocket. “Here’s a picture hook. I have a hammer in my top drawer. I’m glad you like it.” She turned and left as quickly as she’d arrived, to deliver more gifts.

I told Gene, Flo and Jack about the photo that night at supper. No one said anything for a moment. Then Flo spoke. “What did she give the other staff?” I had done some casual investigating during the day. “Nothing like my gift. Laura got a pound of hard candy in a pretty painted tin box. Sherry got a silk scarf. Ellen got a little Porter music box. Edgar got an apron that says ‘Kiss me, I’m the Cook.’ I didn’t find out all the others. But the only one who gave Jo-An a gift was Cindy. Some cross-stitched wall plaque.” Jack spoke. “Do you play with the dog a lot? I mean, is there a reason you’d get a picture of a dog?” “Not really, Jack. Heidi likes me, but she likes everyone who treats her nice. Maybe that’s it.” “What?” Gene asked. “Well, I just ed. At Halloween, Jo-An and I were planting bulbs in the gardens, and Heidi was being real playful and trying to dig where we were. JoAn got real mad at her and hit her.” I looked at Gene. “I told you that story, ?” Gene nodded. “I blew up at Jo-An. I think she was surprised I reacted the way I did, because she ran off and never finished planting. Maybe this is her way of apologizing.” Flo asked, “You mean, indirectly, through the dog?” I nodded. “Sure. Jo-An can’t bring herself to come in and wish me a Merry Christmas and at the same time say she’s sorry for the way she’s treated me. So she says it indirectly, through Heidi.” Gene, in his usual blunt way, said it best. “Well, I think she’s a little strange. I didn’t like her when I met her; I didn’t like the way she ‘came onto me,’ and I wouldn’t trust her. Don’t let her disarm you, Claire, with her gesture.” “You can be assured it won’t, Gene. She makes me feel too uncomfortable, and I don’t trust her, either. She has too many ups and downs.”

For the next two weeks, Lydia and I seldom came up for air. The auditors had sent us a list of the required schedules and forms they would need, and I had completed most of these and emailed to them by the time Joe and Cheryl arrived from the firm. With Jo-An’s permission, I set them up in the conference room, where they plugged in their laptops and spread out large folders of papers. Cheryl was a first year ant, not a A yet, and a junior to Joe. She was pretty, with long dark hair, a short skirt, and high heels. Joe was the typical senior ant I was used to, with a middle-aged paunch, receding hairline, and the gray suit and tie which was reduced to shirt-sleeves and loosened tie by mid-day. Joe was nice, though, and although he hadn’t been on our last year, had reviewed everything in advance with the senior who had been. When I introduced them to Jo-An, I thought I would die of embarrassment. “Joe! How nice to see you again! You just had to come back for more of us, didn’t you? Now, I think you’ll find that Claire has gotten everything into shape. I know things were a mess last June, and that has all been taken care. I hope this will be a good audit, and if you need anything, just come on in and ask me.” JoAn was talking non-stop, and jumping animatedly up and down behind her desk. I could see Joe wasn’t sure how to answer her first remark, but he had to say something. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jo-An. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the Academy from Peter, who was out here last June. It’s easy to get us mixed up, as we look sort of alike.” He patted his stomach in an attempt at humor. “But I’m new on your , while Cheryl has been with LeBlanc’s since June.” Jo-An didn’t like being wrong, but she didn’t take this as badly as I thought she would. For a second, I thought she was going to argue with Joe, then spoke. “Well, when lunch time comes, I hope you don’t have plans. You’re welcome to Claire and me in the Commons for lunch.” Joe and Cheryl graciously accepted, and we made our escape to the conference room. Aside from helping the auditors, I used the week to work in the computer lab, as Jo-An continued to call it, while I preferred ‘business classroom.’ I had asked Ellen if she would like to sit with me and have a private “catch-up” course to bring her up to speed for when classes resumed after the holiday. Ellen thought it was a great idea, and she would me in the lab for an hour around lunch. We covered the basics, from how a computer works, to selecting software, to

actually typing and saving a document the first day. I showed her how we could set up private directories on the network, and how I could designate certain people to share a directory. For example, Howard and George shared a directory for creating their tests, quizzes, outlines, assignments, etc. The two of them occasionally filled in for each other, if one had an appointment off-campus, or was out sick. I created a personal directory for Ellen, and she created various subdirectories for the different functions in her job. She was a quick learner, and would work into the evening applying what she had learned in our ‘class.’ She was putting the policies into a file, and wanted to start a database of all students and medical histories. Confidentiality was crucial for Ellen’s job, and I assured her that the network was secure. I felt so bad for these people, where their skills were so limited because Jo-An had done everything for them. It was during one of these sessions that I concentrated on the multitude of system names and s that had never been updated. While Ellen meticulously worked on the assignments I’d given her, I cleaned out and deleted names, log-ins and s for Bob, the former heaster, Kevin, and a dozen or so other names I’d heard mentioned here and there. In fact, Kevin, Lydia and Jo-An each had three different network names. I deleted everything except Jo-An’s, as I was not sure which one was her current, active . I called Lydia from the phone in the lab to see what she might know. “Hi, Lydia. I’m cleaning up the network s, and noticed that several people had many s. Any idea why?” “I’ll say so, yes. This subject came up frequently. Well, first of all, a lot of s couldn’t their s, so whenever they forgot, they just had Kevin assign them a new one. Kevin told me once that he and Jo-An were at odds over how s should be maintained. He had written a policy which Jo-An had ripped up in his face.” I was sorry I had asked, and said so. “Lydia, how did Kevin want to do it?” “Well, because the network can change s at any time, he felt that all he needed to do was have the put in a that he/she would . He didn’t need to know what it was, as he could always go into the setup and delete that or deactivate the if necessary. Jo-An wanted to know everyone’s s. She felt that if she ever needed to get into someone’s files, etc., at night, weekends, or vacation, that she should know

the s. Kevin had explained to her that he could set up shared directories where Jo-An would have access to Ellen’s files, to his files, so forth. She wouldn’t hear of it. They eventually compromised.” “How?” “Jo-An asked each , staff and students, to come to the computer lab on an assigned day. Kevin sat at a PC, and each in turn established a new . Then, on a printed form, one for each , they wrote down their , signed their name, folded it, and put it into a large brown envelope.” “My God, didn’t anyone object?” I was horrified. “You bet. Some people, students mostly, were very outspoken against this. Jo-An had to stand there beside Kevin most of the day, explaining that the envelope would be locked in her office at all times, and would be used only by her in case of an emergency. Some asked what qualified as an emergency. She had various lame examples. There was a lot of grumbling for a few days, but it eventually calmed down.” “Jeez!” I was surprised she hadn’t asked me to write down my . She probably had forgotten by the time I was hired. I wondered if anyone had ever written down a phony one. That would be a good test to see if she tried to use it, I thought. “Well, thanks, Lydia. But that doesn’t explain why there are duplicates.” “Kevin mentioned that he just didn’t have the time to delete old ones. If you notice, the names are in there slightly different. When Bob was here, we all had names beginning with our last name, then first initial. When Kevin came, he started using first initial, last name. So you’ll probably see a SENECALJ and a JSENECAL.” I had seen them. “So as long as I leave the first initial, last name ones in there, it’s safe for me to delete all of the others, you think? I’d like to have a standard protocol.” “I think so. What’s the worst that could happen? Someone will call you because they can’t ?”

“Or call Jo-An! That’s the risk I have to take. OK, thanks, Lydia.” I kept a list, however, of the names I deleted, just in case. By the end of the first week, Cheryl and Joe had finished their field work. Joe and I had a final discussion, in which he told me that everything was in very good shape. He would write up everything back at the office, and the partner in charge of our would be in touch with us. I thanked Joe, and he said he’d see me again in June for the fiscal audit. As he packed up his papers, Jo-An burst into the room. “You’re leaving us? So soon? I suppose that’s good, but it’s been so nice having a man around, especially in the office. Will we see you again?” Jo-An had flirted with Joe since the first day. She had tried to lure him into conversations about his marital status, off-work interests and other small talk, but Joe was a master at keeping the conversation on business. I could tell it frustrated Jo-An, but I stayed out of it. Joe repeated what he’d said to me, thanked her for the Academy’s hospitality, and departed. A few days after they’d left, Jo-An called me into her office. The students were returning from Christmas vacation, and things were pretty hectic on campus. I couldn’t imagine what Jo-An wanted now. “Claire, I just got off the phone with Phil LeBlanc, the managing partner at LeBlanc’s. He is pleased with the schedules and everything you did, and said everything looks fine from what he’s seen so far.” “That’s good. Thank you for telling me that, Jo-An. I’m looking forward to meeting Phil. Is that something we’ll do before June?” “As a matter of fact, yes. I asked Phil if he’d come down sometime in February, after we’ve had a chance to review the findings from this mini-audit with the board. But I also told him something else I thought he should know.” I waited. Jo-An had a habit of dropping a bomb but waiting a few seconds for it to detonate. “I told Phil I didn’t think it was a good idea to have Joe and Cheryl on our again.” Jo-An must have seen the look of surprise on my face, because she continued with a satisfied smile on her face. “I told Phil I didn’t think it was professional of Cheryl to dress the way she does. Her hair is too long, and should be worn short

or up. Her skirts are also too short, and I was uncomfortable in her presence, especially when Joe was in the room. I also felt there was something ‘going on’ between the two of them. Didn’t you?” She waited for my answer. I was more than surprised. I couldn’t think of one time Joe and Cheryl even looked at each other, other than to discuss the ing issue at hand. And Cheryl always looked nice. Her hair was beautiful. Long, yes, but nicely combed, pulled back and never in her face. This had to be a ‘get even’ on JoAn’s part, because she couldn’t get anywhere with Joe. I could think of no other reason. “I’m afraid I must have missed whatever you saw, Jo-An. And as far as Cheryl’s dress style goes, she’s a different generation than us.” I didn’t dare say age, but that’s what it was, obviously. “Well, none of it is acceptable to the Academy, and I asked Phil to appoint someone else for June, or we would be looking for a new ing firm.” She ended the meeting by picking up her phone. “Edgar? Did you get all the deliveries scheduled for today?” I retreated to my office. Gene weakened the most of any period since his illness began, as the long Vermont winter stretched through January. Ellen had been coming in every morning for about two hours, istering his pills, insulin, checking all vitals, bathing him, and doing exercises. She was a God-send. But it hurt me tremendously to come home at night and see him lying in bed, unable to do anything for himself. And worse, his own acknowledgement of his helplessness was weakening Gene emotionally. He was struggling to accept the finality of his illness, and with Rev. Henshaw’s help, was making good progress. But I could still see the fear and helplessness in my husband’s eyes. We did have long talks. Gene and I had always been open about everything with each other, and this hadn’t changed because of the illness. At first, he was reluctant to initiate any conversations about himself, except to occasionally vent some frustration, but as time went on, he shared more and more of his fears. I think it helped him to talk. At night, we’d lie in bed and talk. Gene was my sounding board for all my problems, ideas, stories. He listened patiently as day after day I came home from work with new stories about Jo-An and the Academy. I kept telling myself to

stop torturing Gene with my problems, but he always listened and tried to give me advice. Because Gene and I were so different in our personalities and management styles, I could never see myself handling a problem the same forthright way that Gene would. I was always the diplomat, the peacemaker. Gene was the abrupt, cut-to-the-chase kind of guy. But I still had not told him about Jo-An’s biggest insult to me, her reason for not giving me a raise. I was afraid of how he might react and I was afraid of confronting Gene, Jo-An, and myself. Gene was able, however, to continue working on last year’s ing variance and re-creating the reconciliation, a task the auditors had requested. I bought time by explaining to Joe that I was working on it and would have it done by the time they came in for year end. Joe was satisfied with that deadline, and Gene was optimistic that he would have the issue resolved well before then. He worked on it every day, and recently, had been nailing down specifics he needed from the bank’s microfiche records. He would text or email me with whatever banking detail he needed; I would request it from the bank; then forward it to him. They were mostly pdf files which I didn’t bother to look at. I left him alone, trusting he would share his results with me all at once. On the last Monday of January, I left for work early. Phil LeBlanc was supposed to be mailing us a letter of the findings and suggestions for improvement before the June audit. Around nine o’clock, the mail came in. Winifred brought it into my office. “I know this is addressed to Jo-An, but she’s out for a couple of hours. I thought you might like to read it first. I slit the envelope open, but you can put the letter back in.” I looked up at Winifred, grateful for her insight. “Thanks. I’ll put it on her desk when I’m done.” I sat back and read the review. I would never read someone’s personal mail, but even though this was addressed to Jo-An, I felt a small bit of justification because of the crap she had put me through. There were only good comments. Although the letter was three pages long, the items reviewed were thorough. The suggestions were that the Heaster and Board create policy that the business office could then write into procedures, and that better controls be created for manual check writing. I knew this referred to Laura’s car loan, because Joe had spent some time reviewing that issue and

taking copies of everything I had put into the file. Joe had also questioned the bonus payment to Roland; and he was satisfied, after talking with Jo-An, that the bonus was a rate catch-up owed to Roland over several years. Phil didn’t elaborate in the letter, but said if we needed specifics on any item, to call him. Jo-An isn’t going to like these, I thought. I neatly slipped the letter back in its envelope and stuck it in between the other mail on her desk. Jo-An arrived around eleven. She’d only been in her office a few minutes when I heard her swearing loudly. Apparently she’d read the letter. She appeared in my doorway, red-faced and sweaty. Her hair was stringy and drab, clipped back from her forehead with a barrette. “Just what does Phil LeBlanc think he’s doing, making a God-damned proposal like this?” I played the innocent. “What are you referring to, Jo-An?” “This letter. Here.” She dropped it on my desk, and impatiently paced the floor as I quickly read it. “Which items don’t you agree with?” “Where does he get off telling me to write policy and procedures? I have procedures in place for everything.” She hadn’t answered my question, but I didn’t want her to know that I knew it was about the check writing controls. “Perhaps you should call him, Jo-An, and ask him to clarify your questions.” Jo-An gave me her usual cold stare. “All right, I will. We’ll see what he has to say.” She whirled around and stormed into her office, slamming the door behind her. When she came out, about an hour later, she seemed moderately triumphant. “Come on, Claire. Have lunch with me in the dining hall.” Not a question, but a demand. I sighed, and grabbing my coat, followed her. Jo-An continued her conversation as we strode across the shoveled pathways to the Commons. “Phil is emailing us the corrections to the letter. I have to go out this afternoon, so I asked him to cc you. Would you review it and then fax it to Arthur? The

Board is anxious for the results.” “Sure, Jo-An, but what am I looking for in the new letter? What is Phil changing?” Did she expect me to read her mind? “He’s removing the reference to policies and procedures, and adding that a policy and procedure review will be part of the June audit.” She tossed her head back, smiling. I could see a postponement was as good as a win, as far as she was concerned. But I was satisfied that Joe and Phil were aware, anyway, of these management issues and wouldn’t likely forget them. The rest of the week went smoothly. Jo-An was in a good mood, so Thursday morning, I decided to remind her about my overdue evaluation. Although she was on the phone, she motioned me to come in. She held up one finger to ask me to wait. From the way she was talking, it must be Ellen on the other end. I took the opportunity to look around her office. On one wall, I noticed the Christmas present Cindy Berthiaume had given JoAn. I read the embroidered message while Jo-An finished telling Ellen how to better track the flu cases.

‘Oh, Mistress of this Castle be Forever Loving, so that we May follow in your footsteps dear That Hearth and Home are always here.’

Cindy had chosen primary colors of red, blue and yellow for the cross-stitching. Unfortunately, the yellow letters didn’t show up well against the off-white background, so every third letter was difficult to read. Around the border, she had stitched, in black and gray thread, little castle-like buildings, obviously meant to represent the Academy. Cute, I thought, and clever. But what a kiss-up Cindy is.

Jo-An hung up the phone and turned to me. “Yes?” She had absolutely no expression on her face. I wondered if this was a good idea, but I was here, so I gathered my confidence and got to the point. “Jo-An, I wanted to remind you that you had said we’d do my six-month evaluation during the Christmas holidays.” She stared at me for a second, then smiled condescendingly. “I wish you’d reminded me earlier in the holiday. I completely forgot, and I’m tied up now with the new term and the flu cases. If this flu spreads, we’re going to have our hands full, you know. And there are a few things I need from you, like the computer class format. I want a synopsis of the whole term. Can I have it today?” I wasn’t going to let her blow me off like this. She was turning the tables intentionally to sidetrack me. I had the synopsis done, but three weeks ago she’d told me it was no big deal, she didn’t need to see it, as long as I had one. “Jo-An, I have the synopsis, which I’ll email you in a few minutes. But it certainly wouldn’t take long to do my review. We had agreed, and even Arthur had suggested it.” At Arthur’s name, Jo-An exploded. I realized I shouldn’t have mentioned it. “Arthur has nothing to do with this. What right does he have interfering in my istration?” She was shaking with rage. “This is my school and I’ll run it the way I see fit!” “But Jo-an! He is the president of the Board. Granted, he proposed it as an afterthought, but you did agree we’d do the evaluation.” “Arthur suggested a raise. I’m talking about a written evaluation. Two different things.” She slammed a folder down on her desk. “And I agree they are two different things. All I’m asking you for is the evaluation. But what if Arthur finds out, down the road, that I didn’t get an increase, like he suggested?” I wasn’t challenging Jo-An, only trying to prepare her for the Board’s questions. Jo-An was screaming now. I don’t believe she was angry at me personally, but at the fact that I was questioning her authority. “And just how is Arthur going to

find out if you didn’t get an increase? No one on my staff is to ever have direct or personal with the Board, is that understood?” The sweat on her forehead was making her bangs damp, and her chest was heaving so violently that I was sure she would pop a button on her already too-tight blouse. I was certain that Winifred, Lydia and anyone else in the lobby could hear this tantrum. “Jo-An, please calm down. There isn’t an issue here. First of all, I was only raising the question of Arthur in the event he brings the subject up at a future meeting. Secondly, I simply wanted to know when you would do my review. That’s the only question I have. If you can’t get to it for a while, that’s ok. But let’s not forget it. I’d like to know how I’m doing, and if I’m meeting the job expectations. That’s where I would appreciate your input.” I stood there calmly, and waited for her reply. She was looking right at me, her icy blue eyes fixed on my face. Although more outwardly calm, I could sense the conflict was still seething inside her. It was obvious she didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I deserved a raise, just because the Board and the auditors felt I was doing a good job. It had to be on her , and as she had told me in the car last month, I didn’t deserve more because, in her opinion, I had enough money already. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I have to go to a meeting.” She grabbed her purse and coat, and ran past me, through the lobby, and out the front door. We didn’t see her for the rest of the day. Jo-An was quiet the rest of the week, when I saw her, which was seldom. It was the second full week of classes since break, and the flu was spreading. Jo-An spent a lot of time with Ellen, monitoring the health records. I was Jo-An’s errand girl, running files back and forth to Ellen’s office. One morning, as I hurried around the corner to the Health office, I saw George Rossi coming out of Ellen’s office. He had his back to me, but Ellen was apparently inside, as I could hear her voice. “No, George, and please don’t ask me again. For either. And leave me alone. I’ve told you before.” Ellen sounded agitated. I couldn’t hear his reply, but Ellen’s next comments helped fill in the gap. “Of course I won’t tell Jo-An. Do you think I’m crazy? But don’t threaten me. I mean it.”

I waited several minutes after George left before delivering the files to Ellen. Ellen had also called me at home one evening, right after the flu was first diagnosed. She was concerned about Gene’s catching anything. I assured her he had had a flu shot in the fall. Ellen, however, continued to wear a mask and gloves during her visits, appropriately, even though I tried to convince her he stood a greater chance of catching something through me. I was thrilled when the first week of February arrived. The days were actually lengthening, and when I left work at five o’clock, there were still shreds of light in the sky. Although it snowed practically every other day, we hadn’t had another blizzard like the one at Thanksgiving. The current snow accumulation in Flo’s front yard was about three feet, and some of the sunless back roads were still snow packed and slippery. I couldn’t wait for spring. Choir practice Monday night started out fun. We were planning a Valentine’s party in two weeks, so that discussion took up part of practice. But then we couldn’t seem to get serious about what we were singing, resorting to silliness, even the older like Ken and Marion. Seth, for the first time since I’d known him, lost his temper and yelled at us. “All right, that’s enough!” He slammed a hymnal shut on the piano. “I’ve had it tonight. We’re here to practice for the glory of God. I don’t mind a little fooling around, but you’ve overdone it.” He stormed out of the room. We sat there, stunned. Sally spoke first, a little nervously. “It’s OK. I’ve seen him get angry before. It’s rare, though. And let’s face it. We’ve got cabin fever. I think that’s why we’re behaving like kids.” The others nodded their heads in agreement. Roger stood up. “I’ll go look for him and apologize.” A few minutes later, Roger came back downstairs, a perplexed look on his face. “He’s gone. His car’s gone. He left.” Mollified, humbled and silent, we put everything away and closed up the church for the night. When I got home, Gene noticed how quiet I was. “Anything wrong, honey? Was practice OK?” “No, it wasn’t.” I told him what happened. “No one person was to blame. We all

got carried away. Seth was right about our practicing as respect for God, but he could have given us a warning.” “Mom and Dad went bowling. We saved you some supper. Come sit near me. I’ll rub your neck while you eat.” Gene was trying to cheer me up. I loved it when he rubbed my neck, although his muscle control wasn’t what it once was. The thought counted. I got my dinner and ed him in the living room. Later, when we had gotten into bed, we lay awake for the longest time, well after Flo and Jack had retired, watching the stars through our bedroom window, while stroking and caressing each other. The following morning was quiet. I wondered how Seth was doing. I was sure that when we saw him again Sunday, he would be fine, like nothing had happened. Winifred poked her head in my office. “Claire, Jo-An left me a note. She’ll be in after lunch. She’s at a meeting in Burlington. Enjoy the calm!” She strolled back to her switchboard, already relishing the freedom. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Whenever we had any “free time” without Jo-An around, the atmosphere was so much more relaxed. I usually took the opportunity to make business calls without Jo-An overhearing and “correcting” my conversations. Other staff would run out for quick errands. But this morning, I left at nine for the Excel class I was teaching this semester. “I’ll be back after class. Hold the fort!” I called to Winifred, who was cutting crossword puzzles from the New York Times. When I returned at 10:15, I found a voice message from Gene. He had called right after I’d left for class at 9, just missing me. Knowing I wouldn’t have my cell phone on, or able to check for messages much during the day, Gene often called on the office phone. His voice was really excited. “Hi, honey. You aren’t going to believe what I found. I got it. The discrepancy in the cash. Don’t say anything to anyone yet, OK? I want to go over it with you first, but the bank just emailed me something I think is going to make your head swim. I’ll call you back after Ellen leaves. She’s running late today and just drove in. Bye!” I was anxious to call him, but didn’t want to interrupt Ellen’s treatment. I ed seeing Sarah on the switchboard, and went out to Winifred’s desk. “Hi, Sarah. What you doing here this morning?”

“Hi, Mrs. Phillips. Mrs. Grant called me and asked if I could fill in. She cut her leg pretty bad. It was gross. There was blood all down her leg. She went to her doctor because Mrs. Saunders doesn’t come in until later and she needed to get it treated.” “Oh, my, could she walk? How did it happen?” “She fell on ice this morning and cut it. She wanted to get it checked as it wouldn’t stop bleeding. I helped her wrap a bandage around it.” Sarah made a face. About eleven, I heard Winifred return, thanking Sarah and sending her back to class. “Winifred!” I called, hurrying out to see her. “What happened to you?” “Oh, Claire, I’m sorry I had to leave. I cut my leg. I didn’t say anything earlier, because I thought it had stopped bleeding, but after you left for class, I noticed my pant leg was soaked with blood, so I figured I’d better have it checked.” Pulling up the pant leg, she showed me the large bandage on her calf. “How in the world did you do that?” “I slipped this morning in my driveway, and fell against the downspout on my house.” “You take care of that, Winifred. Have you had a tetanus shot lately?” She nodded. I turned to go back to my office. “By the way, were you still here when my husband called at nine?” “Oh, yes, I put the call through to your voice mail. You had just left. He sounded good, Claire. We chatted for a few seconds. He was waiting for Ellen, he said, and said he was feeling pretty good today. He said you’d had a good holiday and you’re both adjusting well to the life up here.” “Thanks. He said he was going to call back after Ellen left. By the way, have Ellen check on your cut later, please? You don’t want it getting infected.” I busied myself helping Lydia with payroll for the next hour. Around noon, I received a call from Flo, a call that changed my life forever.

Chapter 11

“Claire?” Flo was as near-hysterical as I had ever heard her. “I think Gene is dead!” She was sobbing so loudly I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “Flo?” I was shaking all over. “Flo? What did you say? Calm down. Get a grip on yourself. What is it?” “I think Gene is dead. Fred is here with the EMT’s. I called them first. I got home from shopping and Gene was unconscious. Well, I didn’t see him at first, but..” “Flo, let me talk to Fred? Please?” Flo was hysterical. Fred picked up the phone. “Claire?” His voice was deep, and somber. “I think it would be good if you could meet us at the hospital in Burlington. I just reached Jack in his truck, and he’s going to pick you up in about five minutes at the Academy. Flo will be with me, behind the ambulance. And don’t worry. They’re doing all they can. All I know is, he stopped breathing, but we don’t know for how long. We’ve gotta go.” He hung up. I stood there, the phone still in my hand, completely numb. Gene had sounded fine, excited, on the voice message earlier this morning. And Ellen would have been with him for at least an hour. Winifred’s appearance in my doorway snapped me back to reality. “Are you all right, Claire?” I put the phone down, grabbing my purse and coat. “I have to leave. There’s something wrong with Gene. The ambulance is taking him to Burlington.” I rushed past Winifred, through the lobby, and down the front steps. By the time I was halfway down the driveway, Jack was racing towards me in the pickup. I jumped in. I didn’t even have my seatbelt fastened before Jack had maneuvered a U-turn in the snow-lined driveway and raced back towards the road. “What happened,

Jack?” “I don’t know. I left the house right after you this morning. Flo was going to the hairdresser for nine-thirty and then do errands. She would have been home around noon, and I was going to meet her there for lunch. I was headed home when Fred called me. What do you know?” “I could hardly talk to Flo, she was so upset. Fred told me that Gene wasn’t breathing when Flo found him. The ambulance was just leaving, and they had to go. I don’t know anything more.” I turned and stared out the window. Although I feared the worst, I didn’t want to lose control and break down just yet. And Jack was too preoccupied with driving. No point in giving him me to worry about, too. When we arrived at the medical center, we found Flo and Fred in the emergency waiting room. Gene’s doctor had arrived a few minutes earlier and was with the ER team. They came out before I’d even had a chance to console Flo, who was still sobbing. Dr. Metzger took my hand. “Claire, I am truly sorry. Gene is gone. Please, won’t you follow me? We can talk better in here.” Metzger put his hand on Flo’s shoulder and led us to a private office down the hall. Fred came, too. “How did it happen? What did he die from?” I tried to be courageous and ask as many questions as I could before I, too, broke down. Flo was sitting in a chair, holding a box of tissues. Jack stood next to her, too shocked for words, simply looking down at his wife. Fred came and stood next to me. I felt as though I were having an out-of-body experience, and someone else was talking, asking these questions. “Until we do an autopsy, we can only guess. It appears he had an insulin reaction. I know, Claire, I know.” He saw the shocked look on my face. “With all the things that could go wrong, all the things you expected to deal with, the last was the diabetes. It surprises me, too. When did he receive his last injection? He wasn’t taking them himself anymore, was he? At least that’s what he said at his last appointment.” I heard the question, but was sure there was another Claire in the room to answer. Fred leaned close. “Claire? Do you know?”

I was hearing these people like they were in a fog, and I couldn’t really see them, but knew they were around somewhere. Fred put his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, are you all right?” I was, for the moment. “Sorry, Dr. Metzger. Um, he should have had his insulin after nine, when Ellen got there. She’s been doing it for the last two months. Flo? What time did Ellen arrive today?” Flo turned her head towards us. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she looked at me with pity and comion. I realized that I would soon be going through what she was. The reality of Gene’s death hadn’t hit me yet. “Ellen was late today, a bit after nine. I let her in, and she went right on upstairs. I finished getting my things, because I had a nine-thirty hair appointment at Maggie’s, and went upstairs to say goodbye. Ellen had just given him the insulin, because I saw the used syringe and package on the table. She was about to give him a bath, and begin the therapy. That’s the last I saw of my baby!” Flo burst into tears again, and Jack knelt beside her chair, holding her hands. Fred spoke. “Doctor, how long do you think he’d been dead?” “At least an hour, maybe two. We’ll know more after the autopsy. Right now, I think you’d better get these folks home. Claire, can I see you for a minute?” Metzger led me out of the office. In the hall, he took my hand. “I will call you myself as soon as we have any results. I promise, I won’t keep you in the dark. You don’t know how sorry I am it ended this way. Gene had such a good attitude and was a wonderful patient. He had become an invaluable resource to me, and to other patients he had ed through the group and the Internet. He was doing so much good for others, and helping us in our research.” I nodded. “I know. The last three months were wonderful for him. Oh, I know he was slipping physically, but with Denise’s help last fall, he really changed. We felt we could see him through anything. I never expected it to end this way.” The tears began to fall from my eyes. I knew I wouldn’t stop now. The others had come out of the office. Metzger took my arm and led me to them. “Gene told me a few months ago that he had made his funeral arrangements, so that there would be nothing for you to do later. You knew that?” I nodded. “I’ll be in touch, Claire.”

Flo and I squeezed into the pickup’s cab with Jack, and Fred followed us. Fred asked if I wanted to ride with him, but I said I needed to talk with Jack and Flo. I was also worried about Flo. She had now lost both her sons. We talked about the funeral plans. I used my cell phone to call David Henshaw, reaching him in his study. “Claire? How are you? What has happened? I just heard from Sally that the EMT’s were at your house earlier.” I told him, as clearly as I could without breaking down. “Whatever I can do for you, I will. Would you like me to meet you at your house? I can make phone calls for you.” He could tell from my voice, I thought, that I’m not up to this. I could hardly talk as it was. “Sure, David. I’d like that. Would you start by calling Anderson’s? We already made arrangements months ago. They just need to be notified about the body and autopsy.” “Of course. I’ll take care of it. And then I’ll meet you at your house.” Rev. Henshaw was wonderful. I had never met a minister like him. He made coffee, answered the phone, called our friends and relatives, and without fanfare. He was quiet, and calm. He put on New Age cd’s, and asked if we wanted anything stronger than coffee. David also spoke with my sister at work. She was leaving immediately, he said, and picking up her husband. They would be here sometime in the late evening. He also reached Gene’s four sisters, two of whom lived in Vermont, the others out-of-state. I asked him if he would call Jo-An for me, which he did. He came back into the living room, a strange expression on his face. “What did she say? Did she want to talk to me?” “No, Claire, but your boss is strange. I shouldn’t say things like this, but no one in town really knows her very well. She didn’t even ask how Gene died, or how you were, or anything. She just wanted to know when the funeral was so she could send flowers, and how many days you planned on being out.” I burst out laughing. Flo and Jack, who were sitting in one corner of the sofa,

leaning against each other, looked up in shock. “That’s typical of her. What did you tell her?” “I told her I didn’t know, as long as it took for you to feel ok. I told her you would be in touch with her after the funeral.” I collapsed onto the sofa. “Why can’t she just be nice? Why is she so nasty?” I began to cry uncontrollably. Jack moved over to put his arms around me, and David was about to put his hand on my shoulder, when the house phone rang. David picked it up. “Phillips’.” He paused. “Oh, hi, Seth.” David walked out into the kitchen with the portable phone, shutting the dining room door behind him. I was crying too loudly. When David returned, I had regained my composure somewhat, but my chest was heaving and I couldn’t catch my breath. Flo, who by now had calmed down a little, was slowly taking charge of me. “Take a deep breath, Claire, and hold it for a second. Now, exhale. Good. Do a couple of those. Just take your time.” She looked up at Henshaw. “That was Seth Ebbeling. I had left a message on his phone to call here when he was free. He sends his condolences. I suggested we meet tomorrow to discuss the service. I realize it may be too soon to plan until we hear from the hospital.” The phone rang again. “Philips’.” David listened. “Ralph, thanks for calling.” Ralph was Ralph Anderson from the funeral home in Dayville. “They did? That’s good. Thanks for letting us know. Would you like to meet with us tomorrow? I was going to suggest to the Phillips’ that we meet at the parsonage at nine. Is that ok? Great. See you then.” David turned to us. “Is nine ok? Seth is free in the morning, and we can get the details worked out. Ralph called to say he heard from the hospital, and they can release the body tomorrow afternoon.” David was somber. I could see that talking about Gene in the past tense, or as an object without a name, was awkward for him. I don’t know how we slept that night. It may have been complete exhaustion, but after David left, the three of us went to bed, without the aid of pills. When I awoke to my alarm Wednesday morning, and went into the bathroom, I realize how bad I looked. Even a shower didn’t help cure my red, swollen eyes and

puffy cheeks. Flo and Jack didn’t look much better. We tried to eat some toast and coffee, but the food just stuck in our throats. About eight forty-five, we left for the parsonage. We hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other. I was afraid if I started talking, I would just cry all over again. In silence, we rang the Henshaw’s doorbell. Denise opened the door, and in turn, embraced each of us. I still couldn’t talk. The day was bright, with a low winter sun, and I was glad of the excuse to wear my sunglasses. I took them off, now, in the house. Denise led us to the living room, where, several months before, Gene and I had had such a great evening visiting with David and Denise. David ed us. Denise left the room, returning shortly with a tray of coffee, tea and English muffins. I broke the silence. “Denise, where are the kids?” The house was very quiet. “Sally has them over at the store for a while.” Even Denise wasn’t chatty. The doorbell interrupted our awkward silence, and she hurried to open the door. Ralph and Seth had arrived together, and Denise led them into the living room. The men exchanged handshakes and somber greetings, and took their seats. Seth had taken an easy chair near the fireplace, which he pulled up closer to the group. He reached over the coffee table to pour a cup of coffee. “Coffee, anyone?” He looked around the room. Ralph nodded. Flo and Jack shook their heads. Seth looked at me. I nodded affirmatively. I felt better, now that Seth was here. He handed me a cup and saucer, and our eyes met. He knew what I was going through, and I appreciated the silent bond. I managed a weak smile. The meeting lasted about forty minutes. We discussed the calling hours, the funeral service, the music, the transportation, the logistics. There wouldn’t be a burial, as Gene wanted to be cremated. As we stood up to leave, the conversation seemed more normal. Everyone was talking, although there was no laughter, no gaiety. I found my coat in the front hall, but before I could put it on, Seth had taken it and was holding it for me. I slipped my arms into the sleeves, and turned to thank him.

“Claire, I want to say how terribly sorry I am that this has happened. So suddenly, so unexpectedly. I won’t say I know how you feel because I don’t. But I do know what you’re going through.” “Seth, the ironic part is that we knew it would happen someday. But the ‘someday’ was a long ways away, like it wasn’t a part of our life. I know something is wrong with me, because I feel like I’m in someone else’s body watching all this happen.” I stood there, not making any sense. The others were still talking in the living room. “I understand, Claire. And don’t be surprised if it takes weeks or months before you feel normal again. It will gradually happen. Just try to keep your usual routine, and keep as much with people as you can. Don’t run away from it.” Something he said caught my attention. “Run? Didn’t you run away from us Monday night?” In the midst of this tragedy, I ed choir practice. The look on Seth’s face made me wish I hadn’t said it. “Oh, Seth, I’m sorry. We should apologize to you for being so bad that night. We didn’t mean to upset you. Roger went to look for you and you were gone. Why am I talking about this? I am so irrational.” I started to cry. Seth quickly led me out the front door into the cold, bright morning. “It seems like I’m always taking you outside to cool off.” He laughed a little, then got serious. “Look, it wasn’t the choir’s fault Monday. Everything crashed on me at once, listening to all of you laughing, planning the party. Monday was the anniversary of my wife’s death. I couldn’t take it. I had to leave. It had nothing to do with any of you.” For a moment, I forgot Gene. “Seth, I’m sorry.” We embraced each other, and felt the warmth of a mutual sharing. Seth held my hand as the others came out. “That’s what I meant once when I said I’d been there. And I mean it again, too. Grieving is different for everyone. But I found it helps to keep busy, at least until the numbness wears off. Your body will run on automatic pilot until your senses take over again. Trust yourself, and God. Neither will let you down.” The obituary was in the papers Thursday, in Vermont and in Connecticut. By Wednesday, our friends and family had arrived. sca, Louise and Joe, as

well as Gene’s two out-of-state sisters were staying at the house. Others had taken rooms at the Days’ Inn. The calling hours at the funeral home lasted three long hours. The greetings, the hugs, the same words, over and over, became a script which I automatically repeated to everyone. I know I saw people from the Academy; I know they all said nice things. I don’t anyone in particular. The funeral Friday morning was also a blur. I hearing wonderful music. I don’t what Rev. Henshaw said in his homily. I recall eating little finger sandwiches afterwards in the church hall, where the women in town put on a nice luncheon for us. I don’t what I wore, how I got dressed, or even how I performed the simplest tasks. Seth had been right - I was on automatic pilot. I do seeing three people specifically, who stood out for various reasons. Jo-An, who came to the calling hours with Ellen, Marilyn and Laura, and spoke at length to Gene’s sisters at the end of the receiving line and held everyone up for about ten minutes. Jo-An was also at the funeral, sitting with the group from the Academy. She was also across the buffet table from me, devouring half a platter of sandwiches and petits fours, while arguing loudly with Sally that she would be better off selling her store to a Honey Farms franchise than remaining independent. Dr. Metzger also came to the funeral. He asked if I would call him in his office later on Friday, or on Saturday, and gave me his cell number. He said he wanted to talk, but this wasn’t the place. He also asked me how I was doing, if I was sleeping and eating ok, and if I needed anything, groups, advice, whatever, to call him. Louise told me later how Metzger made a point of talking to everyone in the family, offering his services. He was truly a dedicated professional. The other person I saw, and spoke to only briefly, was Chris Dusoe. I had almost forgotten about him, when he arrived at the calling hours, just as the last person was leaving Anderson’s. I had gone to the ladies’ room, and found him talking to Flo and Jack in the foyer. He said he’d be at the funeral, too. Flo invited him to come over to the house if he were going to be around later on Friday, or Saturday, even. He said he would do that. Finally, it was over, and by dusk Friday, only our immediate family and

sca were left at the house. I collapsed, exhausted, on my bed. Louise had followed me upstairs, and sat down on the bed. She rubbed my back. “Hey, it’s been a rough one. You need to sleep. How about a hot shower? I’ll turn the sheets down, and sit here until you fall asleep, if you’d like.” “Sure. If I have the strength to get back up.” I struggled out of my jacket and wool pants. “When are you guys going back?” Louise was hanging the jacket and pants on hangers. “Probably later tomorrow, like after lunch. Anne told me as she’s the closest, she’ll keep an eye on the three of you for a while. But I think you’ve got great friends in town. You’re lucky. Say, what’s this?” Louise took a piece of paper from my jacket pocket. “Oh, that’s Dr. Metzger’s phone number. I forgot to call him today. I will tomorrow. He promised to have the autopsy results.” Louise paused. “Well, we won’t leave until you call him. I think we all want to hear before we go.” I went into the bathroom. The next morning, when I finally dragged myself downstairs, the whole family was waiting, apparently for me. “What’s up?” I was still groggy. Louise brought me coffee. “I told them about Metzger. No one’s leaving until you call.” I wasn’t surprised. Since family started arriving three days ago, the conversations had centered on how suddenly Gene had died. The cause of death, as stated on the death certificate released with the body, was recorded as complications associated with diabetes. Nothing about the MS. Gene had only developed diabetes ten years earlier, as adult onset, but had adapted very well to the diet and insulin regimen. It surprised everyone that this, and not the MS, or a stroke, or heart attack, would have killed him. So I called Metzger, but only after I made everyone in the room promise to be quiet, or I was taking my phone out to the kitchen. With the phone on speaker, we listened as Metzger talked, about fifteen minutes. The group in the living room waited patiently until I’d hung up. I got another cup of coffee and sat on the coffee table. My hands were shaking, and I think everyone noticed.

“Well, I guess you heard most of that. It’s a little more complicated than what the death certificate said. Metzger said at first they thought he’d had two injections that morning, as there were two fresh puncture wounds. But the pathologist found, from the way the insulin had gathered in the pancreas, that it was from one source, the injection. So he had received his shot correctly, and should have been all right. No, the cause of death is suffocation. Gene suffocated.” There was silence in the room. “Unfortunately, the pathologist is required to report this, as they cannot determine how he suffocated, and there will be an investigation.” I looked at Flo. “Dr. Metzger wanted to know if we still have the syringe from Tuesday. ? You said you saw it on the night stand. He said it would make the investigation go smoother, whatever that means.” Paul, Meredith’s husband, interrupted. “Who’s investigating? And when? Did he say? And what has the syringe got to do with suffocation?” “No, only that someone would be in touch. He did say he filed his report yesterday morning, so it would be soon. And I have no idea. I am so confused. I don’t understand.” Flo came back to my question. “Trash pickup isn’t until Monday, so everything is in the garage, in the trash.” “I’ll go look.” Paul stood up. Something warned me. “Wait, Paul, let’s just identify the bag it’s in, but not touch anything. Flo, and Ellen, are the only ones we know who may have handled the items. Let’s wait until we hear from someone before we mess around.” Paul sat down, just as the house phone rang. I answered, as I was nearest. “Fred? How are you? Yes, yes, ok, I guess. Yeh, we know. I just talked with Dr. Metzger. Fine. See you soon.” I hung up. “That was Fred, our local sheriff. He’s coming by in about an hour with an investigator from the Vermont state police.”

Chapter 12

Although curious about the investigation and wanting to stay, our relatives had made their travel plans and left before Fred and the investigator arrived. In the meantime, Chris Dusoe showed up, quite unexpectedly. I ed seeing him at the funeral home, but with all the distractions, forgot about him. We introduced Chris to Meredith and Paul, the last to leave, as they were going out the door. Chris ed the three of us in the living room. The house was noticeably quiet now, and I felt exhausted. This must be the ‘letdown’ that everyone had warned me about. “This obviously isn’t the best time to call on you folks, and I apologize,” Chris began, “but when I heard the state police were getting involved, I thought I might butt in. Do you mind?” I studied his face. For the first time, I realized how boyishly good-looking he was, and naive. I almost laughed, recalling our meeting in Sally’s store months ago. “Chris, by all means, stay. On one condition. We’re tired. And, we’re in no position to answer questions or think straight. I have no idea what the police want to know or why. Would you be our spokesman? Our family representative today? Help us?” I wasn’t smiling now. I really meant it. Chris looked at Jack and Flo, who needed a nap. “Of course. Look, why don’t I make a fresh pot of coffee? Claire? I think I where most things are in your kitchen. Want to get me started?” He headed for the kitchen, and I followed. When we were alone, Chris turned to me. “I thought you might need some help. I’m afraid the worst is yet to come. You do know that, don’t you?” He looked at me intently. “I guess so. I’m just so burned out, I haven’t tried to think beyond the next five minutes for the last three days. Say, how did you hear about Gene? Where have you been since I last saw you?” I showed him where the coffee was, and he

began filling the pot with water. “Around. I had a case that took me to D.C. While I was there, I took a little side trip to the Simpson School.” Chris looked at me briefly, but I wasn’t interested in Jo-An right now. “Fred called Tuesday night. Just as a professional courtesy, as he knew we had become friends, sort of, and wanted to let me know what had happened. I felt terrible, Claire. I really did. I just wasn’t prepared to hear about his death. Not so soon.” He rested his hands on the counter, turning to face me. “None of us were. I’m not sure I know if I’m still in shock, or what this is that I’m going through, but I’m a little weird. I don’t really feel anything yet.” “You will, Claire. Be ready for it. There will be anger, resentment. Denial should have been first. Not yet? Keep in touch with me, please. Or Denise Henshaw, ok? You could face some tough months ahead. And not just from your grieving. That’s what I want to warn you about.” Now Chris had my attention. “What do you mean?” “When I got into town the other night, I called Fred. He filled me in, and let me know that Dr. Metzger wasn’t satisfied with the initial cause of death. Fred asked if I could stick around until after the autopsy results. He called me last night to tell me.” “And? What are the results? Besides what Metzger already told me.” “There are no obvious external signs of suffocation, no marks on his neck or face, but he did die of suffocation, that was conclusive, as there was some fluid accumulated in his lungs and there was a definite lack of oxygen to the brain. We just don’t know how it happened. There was no sign of a struggle. The only perplexing thing is that there were two points of entry for the needle, but there was only insulin from one injection in his system. Because of this, the pathologist at first thought death could have been caused by an embolism, or air injected into the vein. But there was no embolism.” Chris continued, and didn’t look me in the eye. “I didn’t want this to come up in front of Flo and Jack, but the issue had been raised as to whether Gene would have tried to take his own life. I guess there were signs some months ago that he was depressed and angry.”

Now I was angry. “How could anyone suppose that? Gene’s depression had gone away. He had taken charge of his illness. He was happy; happier than I had seen him in months.” “The police have to look at everything, Claire. You know that. But suicide has been pretty much ruled out, and they’re back to the initial theory, suffocation.” I didn’t understand. “But how? How could he have suffocated?” “That’s the problem. It could be accidental. Gene could have accidentally suffocated. But right now, the police need to talk with your nurse, Ellen, as she was the last one to be with him. And Claire, I have to warn you: from my conversation with Fred, I gathered that Ellen may also be a suspect.” I froze. “Impossible. Ellen could never do that. And why?” “Like I said, it could have been accidental. Maybe she left him covered up and the blankets or pillow covered him. Flo can’t exactly how she found him, except that he was all tucked in.” “No, Ellen would never make a mistake. She is too good, too cautious, very procedurally correct. I won’t accept that.” “Well, get ready to.” Chris was looking out the kitchen window. “Fred and the state investigator just drove up. I’ll let them in. You’d better see if Flo is awake.” The investigator’s questions were fairly routine; at least, not as blunt as Chris’. He asked Flo a lot of detailed questions about time. “What time did your nurse, Ellen Saunders, arrive every day?” “Nine o’clock. Promptly.” “Was Tuesday any different?” “No, right on time. I had a hair appointment at nine-thirty.” “Was Ellen in a good mood? Did she seem distracted, or preoccupied?” “No, we said hello, but I wasn’t quite dressed, so I hurried off to my room and

she went upstairs. When I went up to say goodbye a few minutes later, she and Gene were laughing.” “About what? Do you recall? And what were they doing at the time?” “I don’t know what they were laughing about, but Ellen had just given him his injection, because the syringe and wrapper were on the table. She was helping him into the wheelchair, to give him a bath. Gene trusted Ellen, and they got along great. We all did. She is a very nice person.” Flo was getting a little defensive. The investigator, Mike Davidian, ignored the commentary. “Would you show me the upstairs, please?” He turned to Jack. “Fred told me you might have the syringe. I’d like to see it. I hope you haven’t touched it?” Flo, Mike, Fred and Chris went upstairs. I waited with Jack. When they returned, Jack brought the bag of trash into the kitchen. Mike, wearing gloves, fished out the syringe and wrapper and placed it in a plastic bag, labeling and dating it. “I have some more questions, if you don’t mind.” Chris spoke up. “Mike, these people are pretty worn out. How much longer do you think you’ll be?” “Sorry, folks, not much. It’s good to get these things out of the way while details are still fresh in your minds. I’m real sorry.” He sat down. “Now, just some more questions about Mrs. Saunders. How long have you known her?” Chris spoke again. “She’s worked for them since before Christmas. But Claire works with Ellen at the Academy.” Mike glared at Chris for a moment, obviously not liking him to answer for us. I spoke up. “I asked Chris to be here, Mr. Davidian. We’ve known him for some time, and he’s acting on our behalf.” I was amazed at how firm and decisive I was. I wished I could be like that with Jo-An. Mike relaxed a little. “OK, sorry. So what is Ellen like to work with? What does she do? How is she with other people?”

“She’s wonderful. Shy, but very devoted to her kids. She’s the school nurse, although her official title is Director of Health Services. The students love her, and she’ll take as much time as necessary with anyone. She’s never impatient, and…” Davidian cut me off. “I get the picture. Everyone loves her. Has there been anything different about her recently?” I hesitated, and looked at Chris. Mike noticed. “Well?” “I’ve only been here since September, but Ellen seems to have changed. She takes less care of herself, and she’s not as pretty. Her hair isn’t always combed, and she looks like she just throws her clothes on in the morning. Although since she started coming here, she wears her white uniform and then changes back at the school.” “Why do you think she does that?” I thought for a moment. “Well, Ellen needed the extra money; that was one reason she took this job. But she also confided something in me a few months ago. She said she wanted, eventually, to do private duty nursing full time. She takes real pride in working one on one with her patients. And they enjoy her. Whatever might be wrong in her personal life doesn’t show through when she’s with a patient. Gene just loved her.” “When you say that was one reason she took this job, were there others?” Mike had asked earlier if he could record our interview. It was easier than trying to write and listen at the same time. “That’s an interesting question, and I don’t know why I said what I did. The only reasons Ellen gave me were money, and the chance to do something she liked. But…” My mind wandered off. Chris interrupted. “Did Ellen approach you, Claire, about working for you?” “No, Jo-An, our boss, asked me. She was concerned about Ellen’s financial situation and our burden here, and thought we could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, if Ellen were to help out.”

“I’m just curious, Mrs. Phillips. Does your boss, Jo-An, get involved in everything?” Chris and I just looked at each other and started laughing. “Yes,” I answered. “She does. She runs everything at the Academy, or tries to. Even our personal lives if we let her.” My voice trailed off. “I really appreciate your time today, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. And Claire.” Mike stood up, shaking our hands. “And you, too, Dusoe.” He picked up his coat. Chris walked him and Fred to the door. “What’s next?” Fred appeared nervous. Mike was forthright. “We’re going to talk with Mrs. Saunders. Right now, this is only an investigation. There is no accusation, no charges being filed. We’ll be in touch.” When they’d gone, I turned to Chris. “This doesn’t look good for Ellen, does it?” Flo and Jack were confused. Chris and I briefly filled them in on what could happen. “What it boils down to,” Chris concluded, “is that Ellen could be charged with manslaughter if it turns out Gene was accidentally suffocated. But how to prove it is the question. If anything, she could lose her certification and nursing registration following a state investigation.” Flo was devastated. “I had no idea that’s what this was leading to. This isn’t fair. She would never do anything like this.” “Flo, why don’t you and Jack go to bed? I’m going to, too, as soon as I clean up here and see Chris out. Don’t worry about Ellen yet. There’s a long process to go through before charges are even brought, am I right?” I looked to Chris for confirmation, but he avoided my eyes. Chris stayed for about a half hour, helping me clean up the dishes and put things away. We didn’t talk much, at least not about Ellen or Gene. He did tell me that things had sort of stalled as far as locating Kevin’s whereabouts. “Sometime, when you feel like going out to dinner, however, I’ll tell you the gossip I learned in Virginia about your boss. Nothing earth shattering. Just that she wasn’t very well liked down there, either. After all, I owe you dinner, ?” He smiled at me, and I felt good for the first time in days.

I returned to work on Monday. Jo-An was in briefly early, saying only hello and glad to see me back. She left for a meeting, and wouldn’t be in again until the next morning. I needed a day of quiet to just read my emails and get caught up. I wasn’t really prepared for the gestures of love and kindness I received from the staff and students. It started when I opened my door in the morning and found a single white rose in a vase on my desk. There was a card with it, signed ‘From the staff.’ I wanted to cry. The Academy had also sent flowers to the funeral, and I could tell Jo-An’s touch. The biggest, gaudiest arrangement we had ever seen, signed ‘All your friends at Gregory Hill.’ But now the single rose. I felt so close to everyone. Throughout the day, as I walked down the halls, or over to the Commons, students and staff would greet me with a hug or embrace. I may have shed a few tears, but the dam building up behind my eyes hadn’t burst yet. I planned on leaving early in the afternoon, as I wanted to be home with Flo and Jack. Winifred was putting on her coat as I left. She put her arm around my shoulders. “Do you know whose idea it was to give you that rose?” “No, Winifred. Can I guess? It wasn’t Jo-An. Not her touch.” “I don’t think you could guess. It was Edgar.” “Edgar?” I pulled away, looking at Winifred in amazement. Shy, reserved Edgar, our chef, always doing nice things for people without being asked, taking orders left and right from Jo-An, and never complaining. The irony, the warmth, the caring, all hit me at once. The dam burst, and I began crying and raced out the front door. I don’t know how I got home, but I cried for the next three hours. Flo almost called the doctor, she was so worried about me. But the next two phone calls sobered me up quickly. The first call was from Seth. It was supper time, and Flo had been in the kitchen making meatloaf. She came halfway up the stairs. “Claire, it’s for you. It’s Seth. He didn’t want to bother you on your cell phone. Do you want to take it?”

I really didn’t, because I’d been crying all afternoon and there was only a hollowness inside me. But I wanted to hear his voice, always gentle and calming. “Got it, Flo. Thanks.” My voice crackled, and my sinuses were all blocked. “Hi, Seth.” “Claire! What’s wrong? You sound terrible. Oh…It’s started, hasn’t it?” For a second, I couldn’t answer. “Yes,” I whispered. “Today.” “That’s ok, you know. I told you. Just let it happen. But watch for the warning signs. Don’t let any stage last too long. If you start to lash out at others, be careful.” “Is three hours too long for the ‘feeling sorry for myself’ stage?” I asked innocently. “Oh, Claire, three hours? I’d say, three days or three weeks and I’d worry.” I started to laugh. “I’m so stupid. Oh, Seth, why did you call? Are you making fun of me?” He was dead serious. “I would never make fun of you. I called to tell you choir practice is still on, because I didn’t see you in church yesterday, and we didn’t have much of a rehearsal last week. Were you planning on coming?” “The way my voice is tonight? And after the way my afternoon went? Are you serious?” “Yes, I am. No self pity. No remorse. We don’t care what your voice sounds like tonight. We know how it usually sounds. We need you, and you need us. If you don’t want to drive, someone will come get you. What do you say?” “You’re crazy.” I hesitated, and thought for a moment. Maybe I did need to get out. “But all right.” “Do you want a ride?” “No, thanks. I think I can do this. And Seth, thanks again. I mean it.”

“Like I said, I’ve been there. See you in a bit.” He hung up. I quickly showered and put on a warm sweater and jeans. My face was a mess, but what the hell, I thought, I wasn’t hiding anything from these people. I came running down the stairs, just as the phone rang again. Jack had come home, and answered it. “Oh, hi, Fred. How’s it going? What? You’ve got to be kidding. Shit! Well, I don’t know.” He looked at me. “Hold on a minute, Fred.” Flo had come into the living room. “Claire, Fred wants to talk with you.” He handed the portable phone to me. I looked at Jack warily. His face had paled, and he moved over to put his arm around Flo, who was as puzzled as I. “Hi, Fred, what’s up?” “Claire? I’m at Ellen Saunders’ house. We just got a call from her oldest kid. Ellen’s dead. It looks like suicide.” I dropped the phone, and the last thing I , I was falling to the floor. I came to about three in the morning. There was a night light on, and Sally was sleeping in the chair beside my bed. I called to her. “What the hell is going on?” She woke with a start, and came over to the bed. “Honey, are you all right? We’ve been worried about you. Flo called Dr. Samuelson when you fainted. They were going to take you to the hospital. Dr. Samuelson was in my store when he was paged, so I came along with him. I was just clo to go to choir.” Dr. Samuelson was the semi-retired general practitioner who had refused to an HMO and still went it alone. He also refused to bill Medicare and other providers so instead of money, took items in trade, just like the old country doctors. I lay there, for a minute wondering what Flo had bartered for his services. I looked at the clock and snapped back to reality. “What are you doing here?” “I told Flo I’d stay. She’s too tired. Samuelson gave you a shot of something. Said you were worn out. We could tell by your face. I talked to Seth. He said you were on your way to practice?”

“Oh, my God, now I . Ellen’s dead! Fred called!” I sat up, holding my head and feeling nauseous. “Was I dreaming this? Or is it true?” “It’s true, all right. Fred called back to see how you were. He didn’t realize how fragile you were. Look, Samuelson wanted me to give you this pill when you woke up. It will make you sleep for a couple of hours more. Don’t worry, it’s ok. We can talk in the morning.” She handed me the pill and some water. I reluctantly took it, managed to keep it down, and ed out. When I finally awoke, around ten the next day, I heard voices downstairs. I got up, feeling a little weak, but basically ok, and got into the shower. I had only been in the shower a couple of seconds when Flo opened the door. “Claire? Are you all right?” “I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute. What’s going on?” Flo came in and sat on the toilet lid. “Too much. Fred’s here, having coffee. And Chris, too. What can I make for you?” I told her orange juice, coffee and cream of wheat with brown sugar. I was starting to feel better, although really hungry. I hadn’t eaten much in the last week. When I entered the dining room, everyone was seated around the table. I could see muffins, coffee, juice and plates of eggs and toast. Flo enjoyed cooking for a crowd, and this opportunity kept her busy. Chris jumped to his feet, and pulled out the chair next to his. “Claire! How are you doing?” “Much better, thanks. No thanks to you, Fred.” I looked at him ruefully, running my hands through my wet hair. “I’m sorry, Claire. How was I to know it would hit you like that? Want some coffee?” “Is that your peace offering?” Everyone laughed. Flo brought me the cereal. “Ok, Fred, now I want to hear the whole story. I can

handle it today.” The mood in the room turned somber. Chris spoke. “Why don’t we let Claire eat her breakfast first? She needs to eat something. Then we can talk.” Everyone nodded. I finished everything, and spoke, evenly and clearly. “What happened, Fred? Who found Ellen, and when? How did she do it?” Fred cleared his throat. “I got a call about four from Richie, Ellen’s son. The kids had come home from school. They assumed their mother was at work. They didn’t realize her car was in the garage until one of their friends came over and happened to go by the garage window and saw the car. Asked Richie what his mother was doing home so early. That’s when the kids found her in her bedroom. Drug overdose.” “How long had she been dead? Because I saw her at the Academy around lunch time. Not to speak to, but across the yard, going to her office.” “She must have left right around the time you did. She’d been dead about an hour. She left a note. We found it on her printer.” “What did it say?” I couldn’t believe this. Ellen dead, too. But something wasn’t right. “I don’t have the original, because the state police have that one. But I copied it down in here.” He took out his notepad. ‘I didn’t mean to kill Gene Phillips. It was an accident. I don’t want to lose my career, my family. This is for the best. I can’t live with myself any longer. Ellen.’ Fred stood up, tucking the notepad into his shirt pocket. “Thanks for the breakfast, Flo. I have a busy day.” Flo and Jack cleared the table. Chris stood up to help, but Jack motioned him back down. “Keep Claire company.” I couldn’t believe Ellen would do this. “Chris, was there anything else besides the suicide note?” “Yes. Fred couldn’t tell you everything, professionally. You have to keep this quiet, promise?” I nodded.

“The state police searched her house. They found quite a bit of crack, heroin and cocaine. Recreational use. It looked like she bought it in small quantities at a time.” The news could have knocked me over. That explained a lot about her behavior, her lack of grooming, the lines on her arms. “Chris, did her kids know about this?” “No. The oldest, Richard, was really devastated. The kids have gone to an aunt’s in Manchester.” “Were you at her house? How do you know all this?” Chris smiled sadly. “Fred called me. I was still in town, catching up on paperwork, phone calls and emails from my motel. I went over to the house. They found enough heroin in her to kill a horse. And the syringe.” “Were the drugs just lying around, too?” Chris looked at me appreciatively. “I thought the same thing. No, Ellen had them well concealed. In the pockets of her pants and jackets, hanging neatly in her closet. But it appeared as though she was pretty distraught before she did it. Her bedroom was in a bit of a disarray, and we found a broken toy on the floor, a giraffe.” I almost knocked over my coffee. “A what? A giraffe? What did it look like?” Chris looked at me as though I were crazy. “Just a painted giraffe with a gold ribbon.” I had jumped out of my chair, running to the hall closet. On the top shelf were the Christmas boxes. I took out the shoe box with the cookie ornaments, and found a giraffe, the only other one Flo had made. “Like this?” Chris was amazed. “Exactly! But why did Ellen have one?” He had a puzzled look on his face. “Flo gave it to her, the day she came over for the interview with us, when Gene first met her. She got real emotional over the giraffe. Said she’d cherish it forever, that no one had ever given her anything like that before. Was anything

else out of place?” “No. And the house was locked. The police always look for those clues. Every door and window was locked. So there couldn’t have been another person, if that’s what you were thinking.” He looked at me, smiling. “Yes, there could be. If that someone had a key.” “We talked to her children. No one else had keys but them. So, it looks as though the mystery surrounding Gene’s death has been solved, sadly as it may be.” “Wait a minute, Chris. I have too many gaps in my head, what with crying, fainting and sleeping. When you left here Saturday, weren’t the police going to Ellen’s to talk with her then?” “Yes, and they did. Oh, you don’t know about that, do you? I wasn’t invited, naturally, but Fred filled me in. Ellen was totally surprised and taken off guard by the questioning. When confronted with the evidence, the syringe, suffocation, she became totally confused. Denied it, yes. But incredibly anxious, crying. She kept repeating ‘no,’ over and over. That she couldn’t, ever, even accidentally, do something like that. Fred said he believed her, and felt sorry for her, because she seemed trapped, almost resigned to the fact that everyone was going to think she had done it. Her last words, as they were leaving, were ‘What’s next? Now what do you do?’ Mike Davidian replied that he would file his report and they would let her know in a day or two. Fred said it never occurred to either of them that she would take her own life. At least we have her ission. As far as Fred and the state are concerned, case closed.” “Maybe for them, but not for me.” Something didn’t seem right.

Chapter 13

Chris Dusoe left town a few days after Ellen’s death, promising to call me in a few weeks. Our lives settled down somewhat. I took Seth’s advice by keeping busy, with work and choir. At home, Flo and I sorted through Gene’s belongings, keeping some things, giving others away. It was a painful process, dragging out until Easter, the end of March. I was going to skip the Valentine’s party at choir, but Seth must have been reading my mind. Rehearsal that night was to center around the preparations for our trip to Maine in May. We had been invited to sing in concert at the Congregational Church in Blueberry Harbor on Memorial Weekend, and Seth had been busy rearranging our Christmas concert to re-use. He wanted to do a run-through of the new arrangements, followed by our party. I figured I could slip out then if I wished. But I didn’t. Rehearsal was a blast. For the first time since the funeral, I was preoccupied for over an hour without thinking of Gene. And I wasn’t even aware that the party had started, because it just sort of blended into rehearsal. We had cookies, red cupcakes, soda and coffee, and played charades. I hadn’t played charades since I was a kid, and with this group of people, it was hysterical. I went home tired but relaxed, and slept well. Even going to work day after day wasn’t as difficult as I had expected it to be. Jo-An was extremely busy and kept to herself. Now that the audit issues were resolved, at least for the time being, she had little reason to bother Lydia or me. I also hadn’t had to attend the last board meeting, only prepare the reports for JoAn. Right after Gene’s death, Jo-An had told me I didn’t need to go to Wellesley with her, as I had been under enough stress. She had told the Board about Ellen’s suicide, and although I hadn’t been there to observe their reaction, I did know they were very concerned about our finding a replacement. What I wasn’t aware of was that Jo-An had not told the Board about Gene’s death. I thought it was a little strange that I had never received a card of condolence from any of the Board , but forgot all about it. Until, Easter, that is, when Kate Fuller was visiting in Burlington and stopped in, unannounced, at the

Academy to visit for the day. Jo-An, unwittingly, was away for the day at a meeting. During lunch, with Marilyn and Roland, Mrs. Fuller learned of the events leading up to Ellen’s suicide. As Marilyn confided in me later, Mrs. Fuller was upset, but apparently concealed her displeasure about Jo-An’s lack of tact quite well from Marilyn and Roland. Within the next few days, I received cards and personal notes from each Board member. I shared none of this with Jo-An, as my instincts told me they must be very upset with her lack of communication. Whether anyone from the Board spoke to her about this, I could never tell, although she did return from the April meeting very quiet and subdued. During most of this time, she was preoccupied with hiring a director of health services to replace Ellen, having d in the big city papers, much as she had for my position. In the interim, Jo-An spent much of her time in Ellen’s office, handling paperwork, talking with the students, lecturing them on hygiene and cleanliness. Probably the only incident that happened this spring was in JoAn’s class on hygiene. Jo-An decided, soon after Ellen’s death, that the problems we had every year with the flu could be directly attributed to the students’ lack of proper hand hygiene. She announced this one day at a staff meeting, and Laura kicked me under the table. The expression on Laura’s face read, ‘here we go again.’ I tuned myself out as, I had come to realize, did Marilyn, Roland, Sherry, George and Howard. The only ones in the staff meetings who were really attentive were Edgar, Laura and Cindy, of course. They hung onto her every word, nodding agreement frequently, and gazing in wide-eyed awe at their mentor. If there were ever a statue to Jo-An erected in the foyer, they would be kneeling before it several times a day. I smiled to myself at this image. Jo-An’s conversation snapped me back to the present. “So, I think I’m going to have a daily class on personal grooming, hygiene, cleanliness, the whole thing. I’ve laid out a new class schedule for the rest of the semester. Here.” She ed around copies of the revised schedules. Oh, my word, I thought. I discreetly glanced around the room. Marilyn’s faced had tensed up, but other than that, her composure didn’t change. The others didn’t any surprise. “What I’m proposing is, we take fifteen minutes from the start of the first class each day, and fifteen minutes from the start of the fifth hour.” The fifth hour

being the first class after lunch. “I will meet every day, immediately after breakfast, with the freshmen and sophomores, and with the juniors and seniors right after lunch. Because the classes rotate every day, every one of you will be affected equally, so no one will lose any more time in their classes than the others. And, so you don’t lose class time overall, we’ll just extend the whole class day by half an hour. In other words, Edgar, lunch will start fifteen minutes later from now on, starting tomorrow. Supper shouldn’t be affected.” Laura spoke, the impact finally sinking in. “But Jo-An, I don’t have a problem with the schedule up to three o’clock, but by pushing the half hour out, I’m going to have a scheduling problem with games. We’ve got basketball tournaments and swim meets already scheduled, and we’ll be having field hockey, soccer and softball coming up. What do I do about those?” Jo-An smiled smugly, having already thought through the arguments. “For those students who are active in any scheduled game, they can just leave their last class early.” Marilyn, George and Howard took their teaching very seriously, and they shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. I took a less structured approach, and was finding I spent more time off hours with students in the lab or the Commons, helping them with assignments or extra computer work. But I sensed that George and Howard didn’t like change, and Marilyn preferred not being controlled by so rigid a schedule. She raised a question. “Jo-An, what is your class going to cover? I mean, what is it that you think the students are lax in that we can’t reinforce in our own classrooms during the day?” Jo-An glared at Marilyn. Apparently she hadn’t thought of this question. I personally thought it was a great idea, and decided to say so, and to Marilyn. “Why not, Jo-An? If you give us the issues you want to cover, sort of like the key elements, we could take a few minutes in our classes to discuss hand washing and things like that. Couldn’t we?” I looked around the room for approval. Jo-An blew up. Her face turned red, and she pounded her fist onto the table. “Absolutely not. I want all the students to hear everything the same way, from

one person. And, I can’t picture George or Howard talking to these women about personal hygiene and grooming.” I noticed how Jo-An’s hands were bloated and blotchy. She appeared to have put on more weight, but was still wearing the same skirts and blouses, revealing more bulges and gaps. Her hair was stringy again, and the bangs were uneven. Laura had once told me that Jo-An cut her own hair by just chopping at it when it got too long. I believed her. Jo-An continued. “This is the schedule we’ll follow, starting tomorrow. I’d like each of you to hand it out in your classes today; it will be posted around campus and the dorms; and I’ll make an announcement at mealtime. Got it? And by the way, I expect each of you to attend one of the daily sessions.” There was absolute silence in the conference room. No one expected this. Jo-An was very pleased with the effect her last statement was having on everyone. “Any problems with that? And that applies to Edgar, Roland anyone who doesn’t teach but is in this room. OK. That’s my agenda for today. I have a lot to do.” She jumped up, gathering her papers, and left the room. I decided it was pointless to sit there with the others and bitch about this issue, so I left, right behind Jo-An. When I returned to my office, after stopping in the ladies’ room, I realized that the sun was climbing higher in the sky each day, and I should open my blinds wider to let in more light. My plants looked a little brown and dry from neglect the past few months. As I stood at the window, watching the slowly melting snow turn into a muddy, slimy mess along the driveways, I saw Jo-An bicycling around our building and down the main drive. The weather wasn’t exactly spring-like, but it was clear, in the thirties and dry. Jo-An frequently rode her bike to and from work on good days, keeping it in Roland’s office during the day. It was top of the line mountain bike, and I was surprised from the amount of riding she did, that she didn’t lose weight. But then, the calories she consumed far sured the benefits of any exercise. I shook my head, and turned to my plants. Water me, they were yelling. The following morning, we began our ‘health’ classes. I decided to attend the first session after breakfast, as I wanted to observe Jo-An’s teaching style as much as I wanted to see the students’ reactions to this required class. Most of the students were bored, sitting in the Commons, writing notes to each other,

whispering or covertly texting. Jo-An was oblivious to her large assembly, intent only on what she was saying. She began by giving us statistics of flu cases, comparing nationwide outbreaks to Gregory Hill. At the end of five minutes, all but a few students had tuned out and were either doing homework or napping. Just as the fifteen minutes were up, Jo-An began talking about the need for proper hand washing. I was sitting near the front of the room, where she could easily see me, and I motioned to the clock. She nodded impatiently, and announced that we would continue this subject tomorrow. Class dismissed. Out of courtesy and , I went up to the front of the room, where she had set up a table, overhead projector, podium and microphone. She was still flushed from the excitement of her first class. “So, Claire, what did you think? How do you think it went?” I hated being put in positions like this. “You certainly are prepared. I like your set-up. And those statistics. I had no idea the percentages were as high as that.” She took my comments as a compliment. “I hope they hit home with the students. I hope our next health nurse can do something about keeping infection down. Ellen was a nice person, but she really lacked in procedures and prevention.” I was shocked. This was not true. Ellen not only had good written procedures, but she followed them. I was about to remind Jo-An that Ellen had documented everything in her computer files, when we were interrupted by Edgar, asking about the lunch schedule. I realized I was late for my economics class, and ran off, making a mental note to go through Ellen’s computer directory and clean it out. I wondered if seeing Ellen’s printed procedures would really affect Jo-An’s opinion. Ms. Senecal’s health classes were the talk of the campus. By the end of the first week, we had learned how to wash our hands, how to wash our clothes, how to wash our hair. She even got into the subject of head lice, although the school had never had an outbreak. Just before the end of Friday morning’s class, one sophomore girl raised her hand. “Ms. Senecal, are you going to talk about sex and intercourse in these classes?” Amidst the snickering, Jo-An replied very firmly. “I don’t see what that has to do

with infection control and the flu cases we had this winter.” One of the students seated near me whispered, “It has a lot to do with infection control, but not from sneezing.” About five girls giggled hysterically. Jo-An was enraged. “Just what is so funny over there? Mrs. Phillips, what did they say? Would you tell the room what is so funny?” I was trying not to laugh, and I was sure Jo-An knew damn well that I had heard the remark. But I was not going to play this game. “Ms. Senecal, the only thing I heard was what you said about infection control. And that includes with boys, and people outside of the Academy, whether there is sex involved or not.” I looked sternly around the room, and I think the young ladies caught my message to knock it off, because they quieted down. Jo-An continued. “I don’t think we need to cover sex specifically, but any you have outside, you bring into the school.” She was slightly flustered, maybe because this threw her off her planned topic, or because she was uncomfortable discussing sex. I was curious. I caught up with her at lunch time. “Jo-An! From the question that was raised this morning, do you think there is a need for a sex education class?” Jo-An turned pink. “Absolutely not. These women should have been taught these things at home. It is not the school’s place to deal with issues like that. And anyway, who would teach the class? George? Howard? Laura? Ha, ha.” She reached for a plate of tuna sandwiches and potato chips in the serving line. I followed, having brought my lunch. For a price, I could purchase my lunches on a routine basis, but I chose not to, limiting myself to fruit and salad from home. “What about the new health nurse, when we have someone?” “I don’t think so. Say,” she changed the subject. “I think I may have someone. I have a second interview with her tonight.” We sat down. “She’s young, just out of grad school. She worked for two years at a hospital in Boston. But her husband is a student at the university, and they are living in Essex Junction. This would be a good opportunity for her to learn the academic side of nursing.”

And a good chance for you to tell her how to do everything. Great. “Weren’t there any other candidates?” Jo-An made a face. “A couple. The Board wanted to review the resumes, but I told them there were only one or two worth looking at. Arthur insisted, so I faxed him the one I’m talking to tonight, and another one, some older woman from Montpelier.” “What don’t you like about the second one?” Jo-An was on her second sandwich, alternating stuffing chips and pickles into her mouth. “She’s got some outdated ideas. Too structured. Too stuffy. We need to be able to relate to the students, much as what I’m doing with these classes. I can’t picture the older woman doing that, or even holding their attention for fifteen minutes.” She laughed, and pulled her pie closer, pumpkin with whipped cream. I stood up to leave. “Claire. Wait.” She wiped some cream off her upper lip. I decided not to tell her she had some in her hair, too. “I just want you to know that I think you’re doing remarkably well for what you’ve gone through this winter. You seem to manage your grief very well, and you’ve been a big to me. I can really rely on you to come through, especially helping me with the health classes.” She went back to eating, and I walked away, confused. I wasn’t aware that I was doing anything differently than I used to. But the classes were short-lived. On Tuesday, a terribly muddy and sloppy day in early April, Sherry slipped and fell in her driveway at home and broke her leg. Jo-An immediately dropped the health classes to fill in for Sherry, and we went back to the old schedule. The problem was, Jo-An didn’t know anything about music, and just babysat the class for several days. After two days of that, she rushed into my office early one morning and flopped down in my guest chair. “Claire! I’ve been looking for a music substitute, and I got to thinking! What about Seth Ebbeling? I’ve met him a couple of times at concerts and shows. Sherry mentioned him when I spoke with her last night. He might be excellent to fill in.” I felt strangely possessive about Seth all of a sudden, and didn’t want Jo-An near him. But I couldn’t say that. “Well, I have no idea what his schedule, or qualifications, are. But you could always call him. If he can’t do it, he may

certainly know people from the university who could fill in. How long is Sherry going to be out?” Jo-An wasn’t paying attention. She had just made Celeste, the nurse from Essex Junction, an offer last night, which she accepted. So now Jo-An needed a new project. Absently, Jo-An answered me. “Oh, probably the rest of the term. She may come back for summer tutoring if there’s a demand. Otherwise, in the fall. She doesn’t need the money, anyway. Her husband has a good job.” That’s it, I thought. I’ve had it with her. Flo is right, and so was Gene. I don’t need this job. Why don’t I quit right now? I paused in my anger-driven thoughts. Right, and give her fuel to tell people I didn’t need to work, that Gene had left me well provided for? It wasn’t true, but that wouldn’t matter to Jo-An. “Do you have Seth’s number?” Finding it in my s, I gave it to her. She dialed Seth’s number, apparently reaching his voice mail. “Seth? This is Jo-An Senecal, at Gregory Hill Academy. I was wondering if you could give me a call. Our music teacher has had an accident and will be out for the rest of the term. I was hoping either you, or someone you know, might be available to fill in. Please call me at this number. I always pick up!” She laughed, and hung up. Poor Seth, I thought. On Sunday, I went to church with Flo and Jack. Spring was definitely in the air, although there was still a lot of snow on the ground. But the sun was higher in the sky, and I didn’t need a heavy coat or gloves. As church was ending, and Seth was playing the postlude, he motioned to me. The choir were going down the backstairs, while the congregation filing out the front door. I leaned over the organ. “Can you wait for a few minutes? I’d like to talk to you.” Seth’s hands moved lightly across the keyboard as he played an original arrangement of “Thine is The Glory,” a fitting post-Easter hymn. I moved over to the window, and waited, listening to the beautiful music, the chatter of people, and iring the gorgeous day. I felt so alive, so good. Only a few months earlier, we’d had Gene’s funeral here, a dark, gray, dreary day, so depressing and sad in contrast to this. The music ended, and Seth closed up his books.

“Want some coffee? Or are Flo and Jack waiting?” “They’re probably talking with someone. I have time. No rush, not here in Vermont.” Seth laughed. “Well, yes there is, sometimes. Like today. Your boss, Jo-An, is in a rush for an answer from me. You know about it, don’t you? She mentioned she had talked to you.” I wasn’t laughing. “She spoke with me, but whether I endorse it or not is another issue.” “What do you mean? You don’t think I’d make a good teacher for the Academy?” Now I did laugh. “No, no, Seth, the other way around. I won’t endorse the Academy for you!” “Oh! Ha, ha. And why not? You’re being funny, aren’t you? Not because of what happened to Ellen Saunders? That could happen anywhere. Drugs are brutal.” “Who told you that? Not the brutal part, but what does it have to do with Ellen?” Seth appeared uncomfortable. “Well, Jo-An did. I called her back the other night, and we went to dinner last night. My interview, I guess you’d call it. She’s very nice. Talks a lot, but knows her stuff.” “What did she do? Flatter you?” I could have kicked myself for saying it. “Claire! I’ve never heard you talk like that! What’s the matter?” It wasn’t fair for me to influence Seth. Just because I didn’t like her, Seth had a right to his decision. “Sorry. I work with her all day. She gets on my nerves sometimes. So, what have you decided?” I sounded more cheerful, less sarcastic. “Well, I have the hours free, with a little rearranging in Burlington at the theater. And, it would be fun. She wants me to interview formally with Marilyn, because we’d be working together on the last play of the year. I said sure. Marilyn and I know each other already, and we agree philosophically on the relevant issues.”

I was happy for him. He was so enthusiastic, and the students would love him. Maybe that was it, I thought. Am I a little jealous? Just then, Sally and Roger came over to ask Seth to dinner, so I excused myself to find Flo and Jack. When we arrived home, there was a strange car parked in front of our house. As we pulled into the garage, I noticed Chris Dusoe getting out of the car. “Chris! How do expect us to know who’s here if we can’t identify your cars?” “Rentals, Claire. It keeps everyone guessing.” He shook Jack’s hand, and bent to give Flo a kiss on the cheek. She blushed. He looked at me, and I sensed he didn’t know what to do except stand there awkwardly. “So, what brings you back to Dayville? You never called.” I fished for my house keys, and unlocked the garage door into the breezeway. Everyone followed me in, with Chris holding the door for Flo and Jack, who was carrying an armload of wood. When we had settled into the living room, Flo asked Chris if he would stay to dinner. “Pot roast, potatoes and gravy. And a cherry pie.” “You know, Flo, the problem with my job is being on the road so much, and I forget how much I miss home cooking. I got home for Easter, and it was great. My mom made ham, and turkey, all the trimmings. I like to cook, too. Well, you , Claire. The night we made the pork chops?” “Chris, you have a mind for ing food just like Claire here re what people wore on different occasions.” Jack laughed at Chris and me. “Now, Jack, that’s not fair!” I protested. But Jack continued ribbing me. “Go on, Claire, tell Chris what he was wearing the last time you saw him.” Jack took a stab in the dark. Unfortunately, I did , and described the jacket and shirt he’d worn when he left after Ellen’s funeral. Chris laughed uproariously. “And I whether the applesauce had too much or too little cinnamon! Claire, you should really change careers. Being a private detective isn’t all that bad, you know!” He

was still laughing, at himself and at me. I pretended to be offended, while getting even at the same time. “Well, at least if I were a private detective, I’d make a point of delivering better customer service than some people I know.” There was silence in the room. “I promised I was going to call you, didn’t I?” Chris sheepishly ed. “I’m sorry. And I didn’t really forget, it’s just that I got busy wrapping up another case. Not that this one isn’t important. I do have some new information, and I wanted to see what you’ve learned. We never got caught up after everything happened this winter.” I moved over to the fireplace to light the fire Jack had just laid. It was cool inside the house, and I had learned from Jack how to be real conservative with the oil heat. We used the fireplace with its wood burning insert as often as possible. Now I sat cross-legged on the floor, getting comfortable. Flo brought us coffee and tea. “Flo, are you going to need help in the kitchen? Because Chris and I can help you out there and talk at the same time.’ “No, I’m all set. I’ll get the roast and all on. It’ll be a couple of hours.” She looked questioningly at Chris, who just smiled and leaned back into the sofa. “Make yourself at home, Chris.” I couldn’t help being sarcastic. He was fun to tease, sort of like Seth. “Don’t mind if I do.” He smiled, and took a sip of his coffee. “Great coffee, Flo.” He turned to me. “Where did we leave off?” “I think you asked me to find out about the self-store and what the Academy uses it for.” I told him what I had learned from Roland, but how I had never gotten over there to check one out. “What were you expecting to find in one? Kevin’s body?” I giggled. “You laugh. I’ve found more bizarre things than that in my career. No, that’s too easy. Just like I wouldn’t expect to find a storage bin full of Kevin’s belongings, either.” “What do you think happened to his stuff? I mean, I’d heard that the movers

took his things back to California.” “Yes, but they never arrived, either. And the landlady here, when I spoke with her, couldn’t the name on the truck. She said it was a U-Haul. Well, that tells me it wasn’t a major moving company, although sometimes the big guys do rent U-Hauls and Budgets when they have a small load or their trucks are busy. But I called on every mover in northern Vermont and upper New York, and no one was hired to move Kevin’s things. So his stuff has to be somewhere. Law of nature.” “And, what happened to Kevin? The original question. Chris, I guess you’ve assumed Kevin hasn’t disappeared, haven’t you? That something else happened to him?” “Yup. In the case of a disappearance, by this time, some trail would have appeared. We have pictures, descriptions, habits, hobbies, the whole works, out on the Internet and through law agencies and banks and credit cards. He hasn’t used his card since the week before he left Gregory Hill. He hadn’t withdrawn any money, and his s are still intact. From experience, I’m fairly confident that Kevin is dead and his belongings hidden or destroyed. And, as I’ve said, we have to start here, in Dayville. There just aren’t enough clues.” Chris stayed until late evening. He entertained us with stories of his career; murders, thefts, missing spouses. He obviously enjoyed his work, and was frustrated when he couldn’t solve a problem. Chris also repeated the gossip he had learned in Virginia about Jo-An. Nothing earth-shattering, just that she wasn’t well-liked except by a few, and that she and Cindy Berthiaume were good friends. Jo-An had been instrumental in convincing Cindy to divorce her husband, as his connection to drugs could damage her reputation. When Chris left, he promised to call me. He still owed me dinner.

Chapter 14

When I saw Chris again, though, it wasn’t for dinner. Seth had accepted the music position through the end of the school year, and he and Marilyn were busy rehearsing “South Pacific” for their yearend musical. The show was ambitious, but certainly within reach, of both Seth and Marilyn’s technical and musical leadership, and the casts’ abilities. One warm spring day, Winifred, Lydia and I decided to eat our lunch outside. We moved a picnic table into the sun and sat down, unwrapped our sandwiches, and basked in the noon heat. I swatted a black fly on my neck. “Ah, ha! Black flies are out. If you’ve never experienced black fly season in Vermont, you’re about to.” Seth, Marilyn and several students had come up behind us, carrying dining hall trays. As the students looked around for another table, Seth and Marilyn sat down with us. Seth continued. “Did you have them like this in Connecticut?” “We had some, yes. What’s the big deal?” “You’re in the country now, and it’s been a long, wet winter. In a couple of days, the air will be so thick with them you’ll have to cut your way through them with a machete. Some of them are so big, you can harness and walk them like a dog.” We were laughing. “Get out of here, Seth. They can’t be that bad.” I smacked another one, and began to wonder if he was right. Winifred changed the subject. “How’s the show coming along? Only a couple more days. Are you ready?” Marilyn shook her head. “In this business, you’re never ready. We could rehearse for two years and still say we aren’t ready. But that’s not realistic. The show is ok. The cast is good. We have a great lead, and the chorus is excellent. Most importantly, the enthusiasm is high, and that electricity alone carries the show along, right, Seth?”

“Uh, huh, the ladies have really gotten into this production. Even though the show is from their mother’s generation, they really like it. The costumes, the scenery, everything is great. They’ve done a good job, and we’ll open Thursday night fine. You’ll all be there to cheer us on? What night are you going?” He looked around the table at each of us. “Lydia and I thought we’d go Thursday night,” Winifred said. “I have plans to go away this weekend so that works best for me. What about you, Claire?” “Well, Flo and Jack said they’d come, so we thought we’d go opening night, too. Can we get tickets from you?” Marilyn pulled a wad of tickets from her pocket. “Sure can.” She ripped off three, and I paid her. Seth continued. “No one is going Saturday night?” “How come?” I asked. “Well, we’re planning a cast party afterward, but it certainly isn’t limited to cast. Staff and faculty, friends and family can come, too. We’re going to go to that Chinese restaurant in Essex Junction. We’ve reserved the private function room, and we can order off the menu. It should be fun. Claire, why don’t you us?” I thought about it. I wasn’t doing anything Saturday night, and it might be fun to see the show twice and then hang out with the cast. “All right, Marilyn, give me another ticket, one for Saturday night. I’ll go. But I feel guilty not doing anything for the show.” “As a matter of fact, you can help out. Marilyn, don’t you have all those costumes that need a final pressing and going over?” “We sure do. We have a wardrobe mistress, one of the students, and she’s done an excellent job organizing the costume making, accessories, etc. But she could use some help with last minute ironing, and making sure each cast member’s costume has all the right accessories with it. Mary Beth! Can you come here a minute?” She called to one of the students eating lunch on the grass. A tall, slender brunette jumped up and came running over. “Mrs. Phillips, this is Mary Beth Sullivan. Mary Beth, Mrs. Phillips has offered

to help with the costumes. Can you use her?” Mary Beth smiled. “Oh, yes, can I ever!” Marilyn was happy with the match-up. “Good. We are rehearsing every afternoon from three to five, and again from seven to nine for different groups. Claire, you can come over to the theater any time after three. Mary Beth practically lives backstage.” “I’ll see you about three thirty.” I was excited at doing something for the show. By opening night Thursday, I was as nervous as if I were in the cast myself. It had been fun ironing with Mary Beth, grouping the right accessories with each costume, and labeling each one with the character’s name. We finished late Wednesday night, and I went home, tired but satisfied. On Thursday, we had a full house. The show was electric, as Marilyn had said, and if there were any mistakes or rough edges, the audience wasn’t aware of them. During the intermission, as we drank punch in the auditorium’s foyer, even Jack declared he was enjoying himself. I noticed Jo-An with Laura and Laura’s family, and they, too, were all in a festive mood. Friday was a different kind of day. The student body was dragging. Although only a small percentage were involved in the show, the energy had rubbed off on the roommates, classmates and friends, so that everyone was tired. I learned Saturday when I arrived for the seven thirty curtain call that Friday night’s show had not been as good as Thursday’s. Marilyn was meeting with the cast back stage when I arrived. Seth had already given them their musical warm-ups and was now out front in the orchestra when the house opened. “Ok, everyone, listen up. You are doing great. I know how tired everyone was last night, and that is to be expected. I can tell you all got some good sleep today; you all seem more exuberant today. Let’s make closing night a real knockout, even better than opening night, ok?” Marilyn’s pep talk was contagious, and I could feel the electricity. I found Mary Beth. “May I watch the show from back here tonight? I promise, I won’t get in anyone’s way.” “You can help me, if you’d like. You know which costumes go on whom.” She grabbed two minor characters by the shoulders, two girls playing men’s roles,

and assigned me as their wardrobe changer. “Mary Beth is letting you get your feet wet a little tonight, eh?” I turned around to see Seth. “Maybe if you like it, you can help with the fall production. Or, get involved with the Burlington group.” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m too nervous. And I’m not even on stage.” Seth laughed. “That goes away with experience and confidence. I have to get out front. See you after the show!” The show was a blast, but hectic. I don’t know where the time went, I was so busy. Not with my characters so much as just trying to absorb the organized chaos around me and to stay out of the casts’ way. When the final curtain call was over and the applause had tapered off, I felt a rush of success; that it was over, that we had pulled it off. This was fun. In order to get the cast and others to the restaurant, the school provided a bus. Roland maintained one fifty enger bus and Dean was the licensed driver. Dean was waiting outside now, as all the cast piled into the bus, laughing and still singing the tunes from the show. The rest of us adults took our own cars, as we would be going home in various directions from the restaurant. The China Villa was one restaurant that Gene and I had not gone to. Although we had dined out several times, Gene’s taste ran more to the plain steak house restaurants. He had never liked Chinese food, and wasn’t even crazy about Italian or pizza. So this was a nice treat for me. And having a private room for sixty people was great, too, and I was thinking how great this was, being with all these people and laughing again. As we entered the restaurant, I noticed George Rossi sitting alone at the end of the bar. He was holding his drink with both hands, but I was aware he saw us come in. He just stared. I turned away. Marilyn broke into my thoughts. “For about a dozen of these girls, this is one of the last times they’ll be together, as they’ll be graduating in a few weeks. See that group over there?” She pointed to a table of eight who were singing and acting as though the evening were just starting. “They’ve been together since freshman year. Only two are going to the same college. The others are scattering all over the country. It’s nostalgic, isn’t it?” I nodded, sipping my Chinese tea, trying to recall my high school days. It was so

long ago. The party finally broke up when Seth noticed the Chinese waiters were lining the walls of our room, trays in hand, politely waiting for us to leave. Marilyn took care of the bill, and Seth and I ed for all the students on the bus. “Thank you so much for inviting me tonight, Seth. This was great. I really enjoyed it.” “I’m glad you did. You’ll be ok getting home?” I nodded. “Sure, there aren’t too many trolls under the bridges between here and Dayville, are there?” He shook his head. “See you tomorrow morning in choir, then. Good night!” I thought about choir as I drove along the winding, dark, single lane road. It’s almost midnight, and morning will come fast. Between the trees, which hadn’t started to leaf out yet, I could see many stars. A beautiful night. The road I was on descended gradually, following the river, before it reached the little valley where Dayville lay hidden. I I wasn’t going fast - between forty and forty-five, I think. I rounded a sharp curve - the river and a steep embankment were on my right, with only a flimsy cable guard rail separating pavement from peril - and saw the headlights of the oncoming car. The car was coming so fast, at first I couldn’t believe they could be headlights, but rather some alien spotlights beaming right at me. I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t dodge, and to avoid a head-on, I went over the ledge. The last glimpse I had as the car shot past was a flash of white and a roof rack. When I woke up, it was Sunday noon. My head was out of control, spinning and aching so bad. Flo took my hand, and called a nurse. I squinted my eyes, and realized I was in a hospital room. The monotonous beeps of the machines lulled me back to sleep. Later Sunday night, I awoke again, still hurting, but a bit more cognizant. Jack was sitting in the chair, reading the paper. I touched his arm, and he dropped the paper, jumping up and bending over me. “Honey, are you awake? Are you ok?” He put his hand on my forehead.

“Geez, what the hell happened? Oh, my head! What did I do?” “You went off the road. About six miles north of town, out by the bend in the river. Don’t you ?” “God, it hurts to who I am, let alone anything else. What’s wrong with me?” “You’re lucky. You have a concussion, and some pretty bad face lacerations, but you’ll heal. And you have a broken ankle, but thankfully, nothing internal. There was a lot of blood, but mostly from your face and leg. You cut it pretty bad.” “What about my car? My poor little car.” “We’ll give it a proper burial. I don’t think you want to see it.” “Who found me?” “Well, when you didn’t get home by twelve-thirty, Flo called the China Villa to see if the party was still going on, and they told her everyone had left about eleven forty-five. We weren’t worried, because we figured you had either gone back to the school with the girls, or had gone somewhere with Seth and Marilyn. But around two, I woke up and had a funny feeling, so I called Fred. He found you in about twenty minutes. Unconscious. He thought you were dead… Are you ok?” “Can you get a nurse? I need something for this pain.” It took me until Monday morning before I could talk with Fred, thank him and answer his questions. We were only a few minutes into his questioning when Chris walked through the door. “My, God, Claire, Fred wasn’t exaggerating when he said you looked like hell. What were you trying to do out there? Thank God you weren’t drinking. Oh, yeh, toxicology has already come back. Don’t look so shocked.” “You have a lot of nerve, accusing me of drinking and looking like hell.” I tried to sit up, but couldn’t. But I was mad, and Chris could see it. “Routine, Claire, you know that.” Fred tried to calm me. “Now look, just forget

about that jerk who just walked in and try to what happened. We can get this over quickly.” I told him what I could. It sounded so strange, trying to explain the lights. I noticed that Chris and Fred looked at each other in a funny way. “What is it? What’s going on?” “We wanted to hear your story first, Claire.” Chris said, serious now. “But we have already gone over the road, and in addition to your skid marks on the curve, farther down the road coming up river, there is evidence that a car apparently had accelerated from nothing to very fast in seconds, leaving a lot of rubber. From that standstill, a car would have had a clear view up the road for about a mile, and would have seen your headlights winding in and out of the turns several times as you came down the road. So whoever it was, had to have seen you, unless they were drunk out of their minds. And that’s unlikely, because their driving appears to have been very direct, very fast, and very intentional.” “Claire? Are you holding up ok?” I nodded. Fred continued. “I asked the state police to get involved. Mike Davidian? He’s doing a reconstruction. Said he’d be in touch tonight or tomorrow.” Fred stood up. “I’ll run along now. You take care.” Chris pulled up a chair just as the nurse came in. “I can let you stay five more minutes, then she’s mine. Perhaps you can come back this afternoon or evening? She needs to rest.” Chris nodded, and the nurse left. “Claire, I don’t want to alarm you, but you need to be aware. I haven’t been satisfied with the outcome of either Gene’s or Ellen’s death, and we still don’t know what happened to Kevin. Fred and Davidian can think what they want, but I know how you feel about Ellen’s suicide. I have to agree with you. And I think you’re a target now, for whatever reason. The problem is, we don’t what that reason is. If we did, we might be able to narrow down our options. Can you think of anything, any reason that someone might be trying to kill you? What can possibly link you to Kevin, Gene and Ellen?” I shook my head, which was a mistake. “Oooh, go away. Tell the nurse I need her….”

Chapter 15

While I was hospitalized, I enjoyed a constant stream of visitors. Well, I enjoyed most of them. The first to arrive was Jo-An, at suppertime Monday. Her entrance was like a tornado, as she whirled into the room, carrying a large bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear. She came right over to my side, and before I knew what was happening, she had given me a big hug. “Claire! You seem to have the worst luck! How did you ever manage to run off the road like that? And how do you like the flowers? Isn’t the bear cute?” She wiggled his ears for me. If my ankle hadn’t been broken, I would have kicked her. “Jo-An, I hurt too much right now to carry on much of a conversation. Thanks so much for coming.” “No problem. If you can’t talk, I will. Everyone is so sorry about your accident. The office is running fine and Lydia is getting audit things ready. She and I went over the audit list today and we figure we can handle everything if you fall behind. Moreover, we need to find your reconciliation of the cash. Where is it? And..” She kept on talking, non-stop, about life at the Academy. I was determined to get out of that bed and back to work by the end of the week if I had to crawl. “Well, I have to get going. Have to get supper for my mom. Look, if there’s anything you need or want, just give me a call, ok?” She wiggled the bear’s ears again, and breezed out of the room. The dietary aide had just removed my supper tray when Winifred and Sylvia arrived. “Oh, Claire, we’re not disturbing you, are we?” I shook my head. “No, of course not, come on in. I’m so glad to see you. In fact, if you had been only a few minutes earlier, you could have had a nice visit with

Jo-An, too.” “Ooh, I’m so glad to see the accident didn’t ruin your sense of humor, Claire!” Winifred pulled up a chair. “We brought you something. It’s not much, but we weren’t sure what shape you’d be in.” I opened the card they’d brought. It was very risqué, featuring a male nurse and a female patient. I laughed. “Where did you ever find this?” “I have tons of greeting cards.” Sylvia was laughing, too. “Whenever I go someplace, I purchase cards to have on hand for all occasions. I’ve just been waiting to use this one. Oh, I didn’t mean I was hoping I’d have a chance, what I mean is…” Sylvia was embarrassed, but I was still laughing. “I know what you mean. I presented a great opportunity. Well, thank you. It’s the best gift I could have. I’ll leave it right here where everyone can see it.” I put it on the tray table. “When do you expect they’ll be letting you go?” Winifred peered at my facial bandages. “I don’t care what their plans are. I intend on being out of here soon.” I told them about Jo-An. Winifred confirmed it. “All she has done is to take over the office. Hovering over Lydia, driving her nuts. Going through your desk - oops, I shouldn’t have said that.” “Winifred, get me my clothes.” I struggled to sit up, and Winifred gently took my shoulders. “You need to rest. You won’t do yourself or us any good if you come back like this. She’ll run circles around you. I’m sorry I said that about your desk.” “What was she looking for? Do you know?” “She was looking for something on the audit…um…I think she said she wanted the file from last year with the cash discrepancy. She wanted to see how far you’d gotten in the reconciliation.”

I was smug. “Well, she won’t find it, because it’s not in my office. Gene had been working on it before he died, and to be quite honest, I don’t know what he had done with it, because I haven’t been able to find any of the paperwork. I don’t dare to tell Jo-An that, because she didn’t know that I had asked Gene to work on it. So I’ve been trying to re-create it, but haven’t gotten very far. Anyway, she can always call me if she needs anything. She mentioned it when she was here, but forgot it. Seriously, I plan on being back by the end of the week. I mean it.” And I did, although it was for only half a day on Friday. But by the following Monday, I managed to put in a full day, plus go to choir rehearsal at night. Jack drove me, though, just as he’d driven me to and from work. When we pulled up at the church, in the still-daylight evening, Seth and Sally were sitting on the steps. They jumped up, surprised, I think, at seeing me. Although they had both come to visit in the hospital and at home, I hadn’t gone to church Sunday. “You made it!” Sally hugged me, and helped me out of Jack’s truck. Seth leaned into the cab. “Are you planning on coming back for her later?” “Sure. About what time do you figure you’ll be done?” “Don’t bother, Jack. I’ll run her home afterward. I mean it, ok?” “Sure, if you don’t mind. Thanks, Seth.” Halfway through choir, I began to question the sanity of getting back up to full steam so quickly. I was exhausted, and feeling weak, mentally and physically. I hardly sang in the last half hour, only occupying space with my music in front of my face so Seth wouldn’t see I was copping out. Sally and I waited for him outside as he locked up. “Good night, Claire. You’d better get some rest. I hope you’re not going to go to work tomorrow, are you?” Sally was concerned, obviously. “We’ll see. I need to sleep. I think the shock of this is finally setting in.” Seth ed us. “Let’s go. I have to get you home. Someone is crashing big time here.” He took my arm, and I hobbled to his car.

I leaned back in the front seat and shut my eyes. Seth said, “Are you ok?” “Yes, just wiped out. This was too much. I shouldn’t have tried to work all day and come here, too.” “I could see you were drifting off the last half of rehearsal. Oh, yeh, you thought you could fool me; I saw you try to hide your face.” He laughed. “No such luck, Claire. But I forgive you. Say, what’s the rumor I hear around town? About the accident?” I perked up a bit. “What rumor?” “That someone tried to run you off the road?” “Did you actually think I drove over the ledge on my own? Sorry. There was an oncoming car, yes. But Fred told Jack this afternoon the state police just completed their investigation and it definitely appeared another car had driven about a quarter of a mile at almost sixty miles an hour directly into my path. From a complete stop. They found where the car had apparently been parked. But, from the tread, the description could fit a dozen cars around here.” Seth was quiet. I looked over at him. “What’s the matter?” “You are aware, aren’t you, that it looks like someone is trying to kill you? Dave Henshaw and I were talking about it this afternoon. Are you scared?” Now I was quiet. I was aware, of course, because Chris kept reminding me, and warning me. But the impact was just beginning to hit me. “Scared? No. I think I’ve been too preoccupied with Gene and Ellen’s deaths to think about something happening to me. But the question is, why would someone want to kill me? I haven’t figured that out yet.” We rode along in silence for a while. “Claire, will you promise me you’ll be careful? I mean, try not to go anywhere alone. Always be with at least one person at all times, ok?” I laughed. “Sure, except what if that one person happens to be the one who’s after me?”

Seth didn’t laugh. The rest of May was uneventful. I healed quickly, and took Seth’s advice about not being alone. Except I couldn’t rely on Jack to drive me to work forever, so as soon as my ankle was healed enough, I bought a new car and forced myself to drive again. Jack and Flo went with me to the Honda dealership and I got a terrific dark red sedan. I was determined not to buy a white Subaru like everyone else at the school was driving, even though Jo-An insisted she could get a good deal from a car dealer she knew who had an inventory glut. Our long-awaited Memorial Day choir weekend in Maine finally arrived. This would be the first vacation, or time away from home, that I had had since before Gene became ill. I was even more excited because I had never been to Maine. Gene and I had always vacationed either in Vermont, Montreal, or the beaches of Rhode Island. And, to make the weekend more special, we would be performing our Halleluiah concert for the Congregational Church in Blueberry Harbor. We planned on leaving at one o’clock on Friday from the church. I had told JoAn I would be leaving work at noon. I was all packed, but now I wished I had taken the whole day off. The morning dragged by, and to make matters worse, Jo-An was in a stinking mood, a real snit. It was so hard to figure out what set her off. She was on everyone’s case about ridiculously minor issues. When I heard her reprimanding Winifred for the hundredth time in six months, I knew I had to say something. I stepped out into the reception area. Jo-An’s back was to me. Several students were sitting on the sofas in the foyer, and I noticed they stopped talking when Jo-An started yelling. Jo-An was scolding, “How many times do I have to tell you, Winifred, that the phone needs to be answered by the second ring? This is totally unacceptable. I just heard the phone ring four times before you picked it up.” Jo-An’s face was red with anger and frustration. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking down at Winifred, who remained extremely composed under the circumstances. “I’m sorry, Jo-An, but I was at the copier preparing those Board packages as you asked me to. There is no way I can get to the switchboard from the copier by at least the third ring. I’ve tried.” “Well, you haven’t tried hard enough, Winifred. Get out of your chair. I want to prove to you that it can be done. And anyway, you should have made those

copies earlier before things got busy around here. See, it just proves what I’ve been telling you. You are no good at prioritizing your workload. You need to organize your work better, and ask me what needs to be done, and when.” Jo-An positioned the chair at the desk, and strode authoritatively to the copier. “Now, I’m making copies, see? Winifred, go into my office and dial 0. I’ll show you how it’s done.” Winifred reluctantly went into Jo-An’s office and called the switchboard. When the phone rang, Jo-An was like a horse out of the starting gate. She was at the switchboard just as the second ring was beginning. “See?” she said breathlessly. “Now I want to see you try it.” I decided to interrupt. “Excuse me, Jo-An, but you have a definite advantage over Winifred physically.” I looked at Winifred apologetically. “No offense, Winifred, but it’s a fact. And it’s not fair, or legal under ADA, to expect the same physical requirements of someone with a thirty year age difference.” Jo-An whirled around in the chair and jumped to her feet. “How dare you tell me what’s legal and what isn’t.” Her face was blotchy with rage. I noticed the students had stood up and moved closer to the desk, listening to every word. Winifred was still calm, however, and I was determined to be, also. Jo-An seemed to be getting control of herself. “We have ADA requirements written into every job description. Unless, of course, you haven’t completed the ones for your department?” She had turned the whole issue around to be my fault. I wasn’t going to let this situation end up in my lap. “My job descriptions are done, Jo-An, and I saved them on the shared drive as you requested. You were going to add the ADA and other common requirements yourself. You said so yourself at several staff meetings.” Avoiding eye with Jo-An, I bent down to pick up a piece of scrap paper on the floor and tossed it into the wastebasket. Jo-An turned to Winifred, ignoring my reply. “Winifred, you’re just going to have to try to harder to do your job. We’ll talk about this later.” She abruptly bolted down the hall, heading towards the back door. I looked first at Winifred, who gave a big sigh of relief, and then I looked at the clock. Eleven forty-five. “Winifred, have a nice weekend, and I hope you are all right until two o’clock. I’m leaving while I’m still in one piece.” I laughed nervously.

“Go, and have a great time, and just , two weeks from now!!” The Board, at the May meeting, had told Jo-An she needed to take a vacation, which she had never done, and was planning on taking the last two weeks of June off. We couldn’t wait. “I’ll bring you a lobster.” I gave her a hug, grabbed my purse and briefcase, and ran out the front door. By the time Louise and I got to the church, it was almost one. Louise wasn’t at Flo’s when I got home from work. She had driven up the night before, but had made a hair appointment at Maggie’s for this morning. At the last minute, she decided to add a manicure, they told me at Maggie’s when I called to see if she’d left there yet. She was on her way. Oh, well, I thought, that’s Louise. Within minutes, Louise came speeding down the dirt road, screeched to a stop, and we quickly loaded our gear and took off for the church. The trip to Maine was fun. The sixteen of us managed to squeeze into two sevenenger vans, plus Louise’s SUV. We had luggage on the roofs, in our laps, under the seats, but we did it. It was a long trip, and mostly secondary country roads, as there isn’t a major highway west to east across northern New England. We decided, since we had plenty of time and all afternoon, that we’d go south on I89 to White River Jct., through the White Mountains of New Hampshire and across mid-Maine to the coast. On Sunday, we planned to return through southern Maine and New Hampshire to Concord, White River Jct., and north on I89. The trip home would be faster, but the views not as scenic. I rode with Louise, and we took Ken and Marion, the vaudeville couple, as we fondly called them. They were a riot. They kept us entertained with stories about everything imaginable. With our cell phones, the conversations and pictures were not limited to one car as we texted back and forth. The biggest problem was keeping the phones charged. After four hours of quick sight-seeing and several pit-stops, we arrived in Blueberry Harbor. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. As we arrived in town, where the narrow, winding two-lane road ended, I could see the ocean straight ahead. What a breathtaking seascape! With our vehicles parked in the lot at the harbor, we all got out to stretch and breath the salty, moist air. The air was so much fresher and cooler than I ed from the Rhode Island coast. As we stood on the wharf iring the quaint town and picturesque harbor, Seth approached me. “What do you think? Is Maine what you expected?” Seth looked at me and

smiled. I guess it was obvious how impressed I was. I turned to look at him. The wind was blowing my long hair across my face, and I couldn’t see him. I fished a Scrunchie out of my jeans pocket and pulled my hair back into a pony tail. “This is incredible. All of a sudden I feel tired and hungry, at the same time. I just want to lie down in the sun and have someone spoon-feed me lobster in butter.” Seth laughed. “Well, we can probably arrange the first part. The second part, well, I don’t want to be held responsible if you choke on some lobster.” He turned to the group. “Ok, everyone. Now that we’re here, it’s easy enough to find where we’re staying. The Harborview Guest House is up there on that cliff, the large white building with green shutters.” He pointed to a small but pretty hotel on the cliff, with white chairs dotting the green lawn spread like an apron down to the cliff’s edge. “We’ll drive up there first and drop off the ones who’ll be staying there. Then we’ll go to Andrea’s cottage for the next group - just follow me.” We climbed back into our cars and took off for the hotel. As Seth had promised, he had made arrangements with the music director at the church in Blueberry Harbor to find housing for us. Tom had found two cottages, owned by out-of-staters who came to the Congregational Church when they were in town. They were more than glad to share their homes, and were sorry they couldn’t be in Blueberry Harbor this weekend for the concert. Each cottage accommodated five people easily, but one was larger in that it had a huge wraparound porch overlooking the water, and a large living/dining/kitchen area with cathedral ceiling. Seth had suggested that we use this house as our central gathering area, fitting sixteen of us easily for meals and visiting when we weren’t hanging out in town, shopping or whatever. The second cottage, owned by a family in New Jersey, had two tiny bedrooms with twin beds and a larger room with a double bed. Ken and Marion decided to take the latter room, with Wendy and her mother in one small room and Beth and Harriet in the other. We all thought Seth should get the nicest room available, as he said he would prefer the privacy of one of the cottages over the Guest House, so he graciously accepted the master bedroom in the large cottage. Louise and I took the small room with bunk beds in the same house, as we were the youngest except for Sally and Roger, and could probably maneuver the bunks better. They took the other room, next to Seth’s, which also had a double bed. The five older people were ecstatic with their accommodations at the hotel, so everyone was happy. We agreed to meet at the hotel at six o’clock to decide on dinner and evening activities.

We left a van at both the hotel and the first cottage, so the five of us arrived at our house crowded into the Lexus, but it had been only a five minute ride around the cove. I just couldn’t believe the view from high up on the cliff - I could see one side of the Harborview Guest House across the little cove stretching before me. The cliff was so steep, the tops of the pine trees on the cliff before us were level with the top of the house. I stood on the rustic-log design porch staring at the ocean, wishing Gene could be here to see this. We had often talked about traveling along the Maine coast and now I wished we had. Louise came out of the house, laughing. “I’m not carrying your bags in for you, you know. The view will keep. Everyone’s hungry and anxious to eat and explore. Are you coming?” I turned around. “Sorry. Bring my supper here, ok? I don’t want to lose the view.” I pulled myself away from the panorama, and picked up my luggage. Seth was just walking through the living room and opened the screen door for me. “What do you think? It’s pretty cool, huh?” “You have some nice friends to loan us places like these. I want to have a look around the other one, too. I know Louise does, being in real estate. She’s always comparing property values.” I got a good dig in whenever I could. Louise was quick to reply. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to stay in this one past Labor Day. For all its beauty, it hasn’t been winterized. This is strictly for the summer only. But if my sister would like to get it cheap for the other ten months, she’s welcome to it.” I realized she was right; I could feel the cool dampness inside the huge room, dampness left over from a late spring. “That’s why there’s this big fireplace,” I said, pointing to the gigantic fieldstone hearth. “You will build a fire for us later, won’t you, Louise? Chop the wood and all?” I turned in the doorway to our little bedroom and grinned. “Not a bad idea,” Seth commented, walking over to the fireplace. “But I think there’s plenty of firewood outside. And, we can probably split some kindling, enough for two nights. And leave some split for the Hagberg’s as a thank you.”

Sally and Roger came out of their room, opposite Seth’s, which shared a small hallway and bathroom. There was another bathroom between the kitchen and our room. “OK, we’re ready to hit the town.” They had changed into shorts with matching Hawaiian print shirts. They did not look at all like the calico Sally and red flannel Roger we knew. Louise, Seth and I burst into laughter. I dumped my bags on the lower bunk, and we headed for town, still laughing at the Vermont tourists. We enjoyed a wonderful supper of lobsters, steamed clams and mussels at a harbor-side restaurant where we ate outside at picnic tables. There was chicken and corn for those who didn’t like seafood. Afterwards, we set off for town, within walking distance over a small footbridge. We divided into several groups, as Wendy and Sally wanted to browse in the boutiques, and the guys wanted to go look at the boats. The rest of us headed for the various candle and gift shops lining the narrow streets. The shops stayed open until nine during the summer, so we had just enough time for a quick look. As dusk approached, we all gathered back at the cars. Seth asked what we wanted to do next. “Would you like to come up to our house for a while? We could build a fire, make some coffee.” He looked around at our tired faces. “Ok, then it looks like the salt air has tired everyone out. What about breakfast at our house in the morning? Eight o’clock alright?” Everyone nodded eagerly at that. “Ok, see you then.” We said our goodnights, and parted. Back at our cottage, Sally and Roger headed for bed. “Too exhausting a day for us.” Louise had bought a copy of “Better Homes and Gardens” in one of the shops and went out on the porch to read. “I hope there’s more blankets around,” she said as she pulled an Indian-design wool blanket around her body and curled up on one of two sofas. The furniture was the same rustic-log design as the house but very comfortable-looking, with thick cushions covered in a weather-resistant fabric. “I took a quick look around,” Seth replied. “There’s a whole closet of linens and blankets. And, as far as the kitchen is concerned, there’s only the basics, like sugar, salt and stuff. There’s some butter in the refrigerator, but we’ll need things for breakfast.” He turned to me. “Did you see that all-night store on the highway coming into town? About three miles back?” I ed seeing something.

Seth continued. “I thought I’d run down there and get the makings for breakfast. Would you like to come? And Louise, any ideas about what we should have?” She looked up from her book. “Pancakes? They’re easy. And here are my keys.” She tossed her car keys to Seth. “And fruit,” I added. “And bacon? Or sausages? We can see what they’ve got. And milk. And juice. Oh, dear, we can get carried away here.” “I think it sounds good, although I’m still full from supper. Ready?” Seth held the door for me. We had a wonderful ride. The stars were so thick the night sky looked white instead of black. The Milky Way was the whitest I’d ever seen it. Vermont had beautiful nights, too, but because of the trees and mountains, it wasn’t as easy to see the expansiveness of the sky as it was along the coast. Little lights dotted the ocean occasionally. I asked Seth what they were. “Probably the buoys you saw from the dock. They have lights for night navigating into the harbor and around all the little rock islands out there. Or small boats. Tomorrow we’ll go on a boat ride and you’ll see a lot of them. Buoys and islands, I mean.” I laughed. “I’ve never been on the ocean before in a boat. Seriously. In fact, I’m afraid of the water.” I confided rather shyly to Seth, who didn’t laugh. “You’ll love it. Trust me.” He was so serious, I suddenly did trust him, much the same way as in choir when we just knew we’d never get a song right, he always had confidence we would, and we always did. We arrived at the store. They not only had everything we needed, but they had everything from kites to sandals. We bought just enough for sixteen people for one meal. Seth reminded me that the church had promised to have coffee and bagels for us before the service, which started at ten Sunday. As we left the store, Seth took my arm and stopped me. “Look up there, quick!” I looked, and caught just the end of a shooting star. Louise was still reading on the porch. “The mosquitoes are out. I thought it was too cold for them, but I guess not. I’m going in.” She went into the house with us.

After we’d put the groceries away, Seth said, “I was thinking of following the path down the cliff. I think it goes down to the dock we can see from the porch, and I was going to look for more shooting stars. Want to come?” I hesitated. I was tired, and I had to be careful of my ankle, but I didn’t want to up a chance to be with Seth alone. Until today, I never had been, except for a few minutes before or after choir practice. I was becoming more aware of something stirring in me when I was with him. “Sure, but I won’t stay long. I want to see some stars, but I’m also getting sleepy.” We followed the path, which was wide and well-worn, and sure enough, led right to the dock. It was a large dock, and there were several dozen large pleasure boats moored out in the cove. The little row boats were tied to the dock, and I could see the high water mark on the rocks for high tide. The tide was out now, and the dock rode very low on the water. There was a long wooden storage locker built onto one side of the dock. Apparently the boat owners had keys, because it was locked. But it was an excellent place to sit. We saw a shooting star about every five minutes. I was amazed at the number, and the brilliance of the sky. I told Seth it was impossible to see anything like this in Hartford, where I’d lived most of my life. I asked him where he had grown up, and besides living in Pennsylvania when he was young, he had gone to college in Ohio and majored in music and theatre. Seth and Tom, the music director here, had been roommates for two years. College is also where he had met his wife, and they had married soon after graduating and becoming teachers. Their daughter Michele had been born two years later. He paused. I sensed it was too painful for him to continue, although I was glad he had shared this much. Another shooting star changed the subject for us, and I asked a question. “How far away are those stars? When we see them, they’ve been burned out for a long time, haven’t they?” Seth didn’t answer. I couldn’t see his face, but I was sure he was having trouble coming back to the present from his reminiscences. I continued. “You know, I’m beginning to feel just as burned out as those stars. If you don’t mind, I’m going back up. I’ll see you in the morning. Louise and I will be up by six and get things ready for breakfast. Sleep late if you wish.” I stood up, and as I walked past him, I put my hand lightly on his right shoulder for just a moment, to show him I understood. Before I could move away, his left hand reached up and

pressed my hand into his shoulder. He removed it just as quickly, and turned away, facing into the shadows. I ran as fast as I could with my still-wrapped ankle up the path. Tears were streaming down my face, and I wasn’t sure why. Louise and I did get up at six. By the time we heard Sally and Roger moving around, we had showered and dressed, and were setting out the plates, silverware and coffee things. I was cutting fruit into a large bowl when Roger came up behind me. “Boy, this place sure beats all for a good night’s sleep. I can’t sleeping all night through like I did last night.” “It is great. By the way, how are you at making pancakes? They’re from a mix. Just add water. The sausages are done. We’re just going to microwave them later.” “Sure, I’ll make the pancakes. Just tell me when.” Sally came up. “What time did you go to bed?” She poked around in the fruit bowl for watermelon pieces. I hit her hand lightly with my spoon. “Get a bowl if you want some,” I reprimanded her kiddingly. “I was in bed by 10:30. I watched shooting stars for a while after we came back from getting the groceries.” Sally was filling a paper cup with fruit. “I’m not sure, but I think I heard Seth go into his room around two. He’s still asleep now, isn’t he?” “He must be, as we haven’t seen him yet. He said he might try to sleep in.” I lied a little. A few minutes later, we heard Seth’s door open and pretty soon, the sound of the shower running. By eight o’clock, the whole crowd had arrived. Everyone oohed and aahed over our cottage, and how well they’d all slept, and how beautiful the coast was. After sharing a wonderful meal, we planned our day, working around the eleven o’clock excursion boat reservations. As we finished up breakfast, people began leaving for town in three groups, agreeing to meet at the excursion boat dock at eleven. Louise left with Wendy and the shopping group, and I remained with Roger, Sally and Seth to clean up. Sally asked, “What do you want to do until eleven, Seth?”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d mind driving over to the church for a few minutes. I told the others how to get there, in case they wanted to check it out. I want to talk to Tom. He said he’d be there by nine. After that, it’ll be time for the boat. You don’t mind, do you?” We shook our heads. Anything was fine with us. We headed for the SUV. Tom was really nice. He had been in Blueberry Harbor for eight years, but alternated Sundays with another church ten miles away. He gave private music lessons to students in both villages, and several students were outstanding musicians. They took turns filling in as organists on his alternating Sundays; he solved a scheduling dilemma, and they got experience. His youngest student was ten, and his oldest was a grandmother of sixty-five. Tom, his wife and two sons lived just outside of town, where his wife taught English at the county high school. We toured through the church. The building was very plain and simple, much like ours in Dayville, except that this one was about fifty years newer. Our concert was going to take the place of the sermon, lasting about twenty minutes. Seth looked at his watch. “Tom, we’ll see you tomorrow morning. We have to meet the excursion boat at eleven.” “Have a good time. You have a beautiful day, and the water is fairly calm. We had a storm last Monday and the sea was pretty choppy. Until tomorrow!” He waved good-bye to us as we hurried to the car. The boat ride was wonderful. There were about twenty-five people on board, including our group. The guide held a portable microphone, and she would walk along the rail, announcing various islands and landmarks. The breeze grew stronger as we left the shelter of the harbor and entered the open sea. Seth came up behind me. I hadn’t seen him since we got on board, but then I was too busy listening to the guide. “So what do you think? Do you like the boat?” I kept one hand tightly on the railing. I still wasn’t sure of my balance, and didn’t want to make a fool of myself by falling over. At least the water wasn’t rough enough to make me feel sick. That would be awful. “I love it. I feel so free, so…, I don’t know, unencumbered? uninhibited? I can’t describe the rush I feel, with the mist on my face, and the wind. Do you know what I mean?” I looked up at

him. His hair was wet with mist, and his hazel eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes, I know. Come with me. I’ve been talking with the Captain. He suggested we stand up at the bow to get the full feel of moving forward across the water. Of course, we’re not going very fast. There are some islands ahead with baby seals on them.” I let go of the rail and immediately lost my balance. Seth took my arm, laughing. “The Captain was telling us how both the sunrises and sunsets have been spectacular all week. Ever since that heavy storm moved out last week, the weather has been clearer than they usually get in one stretch.” “Well, our last chance to see a sunrise on the water is in the morning, because we sure missed it today, sleeping late. What time is sunrise? Four thirty?” I asked. “About that. Let’s see what happens.” By the time the boat returned, I had my sea legs, and we were all starving. We decided it would be cheaper and faster to buy tuna, mayo and bread at the store than to try to find a restaurant to seat sixteen people. After a leisurely lunch at our cottage, the group divided again, some to take naps, others to go walking, others to shop. We had decided at lunch it would be less expensive if we cooked here tonight, too. Ken, Marion and Harriet had volunteered to do the shopping after their naps, while the men agreed to grill the steaks for dinner if the women did the potatoes and salad. I decided to go for a walk. I had noticed, from the excursion boat, that there were paths all along the cliffs, winding around the coves and inlets. The paths seemed to be continuous, and I had a hunch I could get to town this way. The cottage was empty. Seth had left with a group who wanted to find the boat-building museum whose sign they had seen on the highway. I locked the house, hiding the key in the secret place under the porch, and set out. The walk to town via the cliffs took about an hour. With a good ankle, I could have jogged down the paved road to town in fifteen minutes. But the hike was worth it. I was alone, and I frequently stopped to rest my leg and think about the last year. A year ago Gene had just gotten sick. And I didn’t even know about the Vermont job yet. And now, here I am, standing on the Maine coast, a widow, on a weekend with sixteen friends, and feeling safe for the first time in months. Oh, how I wished this could last forever and I didn’t have to go back to work Monday, and Jo-An.

Jo-An. The first time in twenty-four hours I had thought of her or Gregory Hill. How I hate her, I thought. As I stared at the water, sparkling in the hot afternoon, I had to it I hated myself as much as I did her. Why didn’t I just quit? Why was I afraid? Was it because the job was all I had left after Gene’s death? Where would I go? I’m sure Flo and Jack would allow me to be unemployed and stay on with them. I had some savings left from the sale of our Hartford house, money which we hadn’t had to touch as Gene’s insurance and disability had covered most of his illness. Then why was I afraid? I moved into the sun to get away from the pesky black flies lurking in the shade. A skinny green snake slithered across the path before me, disappearing into the mossy rocks. If Gene had been here, I would have screamed my “snake, snake!” scream, and he would have come running to my side, explaining patiently that the snake was harmless, and was only going about his business. I smiled to myself ing the little games and teasings we had had with each other. I’m sure Gene must have known I wasn’t really afraid of snakes. “Didn’t you, Gene?” I looked up at the sky as I said it, and the tears came rushing into my eyes. I sat on a rock for a few minutes until I was done feeling sorry for myself before continuing into town. The path suddenly widened into an asphalt path, then a paved road, and there I was, at the harbor. I spent the next hour exploring some of the eclectic stores we had missed earlier, and even found a fresh fruit and vegetable stand. I realized we hadn’t planned dessert, so I bought two quarts of native strawberries. We had the pancake mix left from breakfast, and by thinning the batter, I could make crepes. I thought about buying whipping cream, but then decided no, we were all Vermonters, we’d just put maple syrup on them anyway. So I started back to the cottage by way of the road. No one had returned yet. I washed, cleaned and sliced the berries into a bowl, sprinkling a little sugar on them to marinate. Then I cooked up about twenty thin crepes and after covering everything and cleaning up my mess, I went into my room and collapsed, exhausted, on my bunk. I never heard the groups returning, until Louise came in and whispered, “Supper in ten minutes.” During dinner, which was its usual noisy and fun time with this group, we shared

stories of our afternoon. The museum trip was really great, Seth said. Good history of the Maine boatbuilding industry. The shoppers had had another successful day, also, and a third group had gone to the Guest House’s small beach and sunned themselves all afternoon. They were all amazed at my little adventure. I told them it was a long walk just to get dessert. “Dessert?” Marion asked. “Just give me five minutes to microwave the crepes,” I said, grinning, as I got up from the table. “We’ll have coffee and teas ready in a few minutes, also.” We managed to eat all the crepes, and by the time the sunset had dissolved into the night, everyone had gone to bed. I awoke suddenly with my eyes still shut. I could feel someone’s warm breath on my cheek, and a soft whisper. “Claire, it’s me, Seth. Do you want to watch the sunrise?” He had cupped his hand around my ear. I could hear Louise snoring loudly from the top bunk. I slipped out of the wooden-sided bunk. Seth stepped quietly back, holding the door open. He hadn’t turned on lights, but I could see the living room as clearly as day in the moonlight. I was groggy with sleep, but had the presence of mind to pull the blanket off my bed and wrap it around me. On the porch, I was still not awake. It seemed very dark. Seth had picked up the Indian blanket where Louise had left it, and taking me by the shoulders, gently seated me in one corner of the sofa. He sat in the opposite corner, facing me. “Are you cold?” he asked. “Only my feet. I should have worn socks.” Seth reached over, and taking the corners of my blanket, tucked me in. Then, he did the same for himself. Our feet were together, but wrapped in their respective blankets. “Better now?” “I think so.” We were still whispering. “So, where’s the sunrise?” I looked at his face in the moonlight. He was smiling. “What time is it anyway, Seth?” I was suddenly wide awake. “About two o’clock.” He was very good at keeping a straight face now.

“Seth!” “Shhhh! I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss it. This gives us plenty of time.” I couldn’t be angry with him, he was so cute the way he was playing this. I decided to go along with him. “So, what do we do until four thirty? You woke me from a sound sleep.” I sounded hurt. He replied, very seriously. “Sleep. I’ll wake you, I promise. But you don’t look very comfortable. Stand up, and come sit here.” He patted the seat next to him. I obeyed, and moved next to him. He took my shoulders, and pulled me backwards against his chest. I was still wrapped in my blanket, so I stretched my legs out towards the far end of the sofa where I had been sitting. “Now,” he continued, “relax and go back to sleep. The pre-dawn light will wake us.” He gently massaged my shoulders until the tension and uncertainty released. I slept soundly for the next two hours, with Seth’s arms around me. When the first light of dawn shone, we awoke simultaneously. I suddenly felt very self-conscious and unsure of myself. I went in to use the bathroom. When I came back, Seth had been up, also, and was rearranging himself on the sofa. I sat down in the middle, cross-legged, blanket tightly wrapped around me. The sky over the ocean was streaked with gray, gradually lightening to yellows and pinks. Neither Seth nor I moved. Suddenly, at the thin line that separated ocean from sky, a giant red dome was forming, growing larger by the second. The thin, scattered clouds were dark grayish purple on top, but glowing pink on their undersides. As the sun rose, the surface of the water formed a giant highway of red from our dock to the horizon where the sun hovered for just an instance longer before bursting into a solid red ball. Seth looked at me. “Now, was that worth getting up at two for?” “Was what?” I replied softly. “Watching the sun, or sitting here with you?” He didn’t answer, but put his arm around me. I laid my head against his shoulder and we sat like that until we heard the others moving around inside. Sunday flew by. Our concert was great. I hardly singing, or even what we sang, as my attentions were almost always focused on Seth. I tried to be casual, and not obvious, but it seemed that whenever I would look at him, he would be looking at me. During the reading of the lessons in church, I looked up

from my hymnal and across the top of the organ, and saw Seth watching me. We held that gaze for quite a few seconds, our eyes talking to each other. Suddenly, I realized he did know what I was feeling, and a warm flush came over me. I looked down. Funny, I thought, how I feel like I’m fifteen again, with my first crush. The only difference was, a crush was usually one-sided. I knew, from Friday night and last night, that Seth felt something, too. The group staying in the Guest House had checked out before church, so they returned with us to our cottage until it was time to leave for home. We decided we’d stop for fast food in southern Maine or New Hampshire, and packed up the vans. I noticed that Harold, one of our senior citizen tenors, who had ridden shotgun with Seth on the trip up, was getting into the other van. Seth picked up my bags. “If you’d like, you can take the front seat. Harold wants to finish some hunting story he has going with Roger.” I didn’t object. The ride home was uneventful, but wonderful to me because I was seated next to Seth. We sang, talked, joked and played the usual trip games, which were even more fun because we had such a diverse group of ages and backgrounds. But all the time, I was conscious of Seth, in the other captain’s chair. Occasionally, he would glance at me; I wanted to touch him, but I knew I didn’t have the courage yet. We arrived, exhausted, in Dayville in the early evening. We had dropped a few folks off who lived along the way, and who hadn’t left their cars at the church. As I transferred my bags to the Lexus, Seth came over from where he had been hugging Sally and Beth goodbye. “May I call you?” He stood very close. I could feel the heat from his bare arm on mine. “Of course. I get home from work around five. You can call then. Or text during the day, but can’t promise I’ll reply.” “I’ll call you around six Tuesday I have show rehearsals all day tomorrow.” He held the car door, and shut it behind me. As Louise drove off, she glanced in her rear-view mirror. I looked discreetly in my side-view mirror, and saw Seth still standing there. Louise asked point blank. “Just what is going on between you two?” I tried to be cool, and adjusted my seatbelt. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, but I sense something.” I turned and looked at my sister. We never could keep secrets from each other. In a resigned voice, I replied, “Why, does it show?” “No, I don’t think anyone noticed anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not that it matters if they did. I guess I’m aware because it’s what I’d be doing if I were in your shoes.” “Well, thanks, Louise, for your vote of approval.” “I mean it! If something comes of this, I couldn’t be happier for you. And even if it doesn’t, enjoy the chase. You deserve some fun after what you’ve been through this last year. Will you tell me sometime what happened in Blueberry Harbor?” “I would if there were something to tell, Louise. Absolutely nothing happened, at least not physically, between Seth and me. But he’s a really nice guy.”

Chapter 16

Louise stayed over until Tuesday before driving back to Massachusetts. She was still asleep when I left for work at seven on Monday, but I scribbled a quick note thanking her for being part of our choir and driving for us. She fit right in with our crazy group. If it weren’t for her husband’s job in Boston, they’d move right up here, she frequently said. I’d always laugh, and suggest she visit for two weeks in March, our mud season. As I drove up the driveway to the Academy, the knots started to form in my stomach. Just thinking of seeing Jo-An upset me. Why am I such a coward? As Gene used to say, just stand up to her and tell her off. So what if she fires you. I was pouring a cup of coffee in the staff lounge when Laura came in to use the copier. She was very cheerful. “So, tell me, Claire, how was your weekend? You had nice weather. It was too warm here. Was it fun? What did you do?” Something told me to be careful, not to tell Laura too much. I ed Winifred’s warning last winter. “It was a wonderful weekend, Laura. The ocean was so beautiful. Just a totally good time.” She squeezed my arm. “I’m glad; you needed to get away, especially after what you’ve been through.” She looked at me and continued. “How was Seth? Did he have a good time? He’s supposed to be in tomorrow. He’s scheduled for two private lessons. I think Jo-An wants to see him, also. He took her to a fundraising dinner in Burlington three weeks ago and I have a feeling it was the best time she’d had in years.” The bottom seemed to drop out of my stomach. “What? Seth has been seeing JoAn?” I tried to sound nonchalant, and kept my back to Laura so she couldn’t see my face. “Well, if you could call it that. Jo-An had tickets to this fund-raiser for one of her charities and she’d been asking everyone to go. I thought she had asked you, too.”

I nodded. She had asked me in ing, but I’d brushed her off. An evening with her was not my idea of a good time. “Well, she sort of put pressure on Seth, that it would be good for his visibility and so forth. He likes teaching here, and I think he’d like to stay on after Sherry returns. He couldn’t very well tell Jo-An no and risk pissing her off.” “I’m sure they had a good time. I never knew who actually ended up going with her. The subject never came up this weekend. We were too busy with our concert.” I paused. I didn’t want Laura to see that her news bothered me a little. “Not to change the subject, but how was Jo-An Friday afternoon?” “Friday? Let me think. She was actually in a good mood. Oh, yes, she came down to my office and chatted for about an hour. You’re going to have to deal with Winifred, aren’t you?” “What makes you say that? Did Jo-An mention anything?” “Not really, except how incompetent some of our staff are. She said she could bring her mother in and get twice the work from her, an arthritic, as she’s getting from Winnie.” I was boiling. So Jo-An does confide in Laura. Or was it because Jo-An knew Laura would tell me? I wanted to tell Laura off right then and there, but I knew if I did that, I was also cutting off my only source of information, limited though it was. I laughed, deciding to build a back-fire. “I’d be glad to deal with Winifred, except Jo-An has told me about the quotas she’s maintain for ADA, minorities, sex, and everything else. In order for her to keep her percentages up, she’ll have to hire someone else over sixty-five to replace Winifred. I hope she realizes that.” Laura replied, “That’s what I said. She was serious. She has her mother in mind.” I went back to my office, furious, but refusing to be put into a bad mood after this weekend. As I was sorting through the pile of mail on my desk, Jo-An burst in. “I have some thoughts for you on the budget for next year. I ran them by Edgar on Friday, and he thought they sounded good. Let’s add some computer

equipment and software to the capital budget for the dining offices, for menu planning and food ordering. With the interns so computer literate, they can do a lot of the work, and you and I can work with Edgar. I saw the perfect software we should get in this catalog.” She opened a glossy mail order supply catalog and pointed to a purchasing system on CD for $74.95. “There are a few questions we should answer first. I think it’s a great idea and now’s the time to do it. But because there are so many packages available, has Ed talked to the dining managers at other schools and institutions to see what they use? We might find something that can do more for about the same price.” Jo-An got defensive. “What’s wrong with this package? It has everything they need. It’s not like Edgar’s going to become a computer whiz overnight, if ever.” She stood up. “I’m going to order it. Why don’t you get in touch with those people you’ve been buying computers from in Montpelier and get a new one now? We can still put it in the budget for next year, but order it now. I have authority to sign up to $10,000. And when it comes in, why don’t you put the new one in my office, give mine to the student’s lab, and give the oldest one to Edgar. He’ll never know.” She marched into her office to call the toll-free ordering number, extremely pleased with her management decision. For the rest of the day, she left me alone. I was glad, because I thought of nothing all day except Seth and the Maine weekend, and couldn’t wait for the day to end. Seth called a few minutes past six. Flo and Jack were just sitting down to supper, and I motioned to them to go ahead. I couldn’t eat anyway. My stomach was fluttering. We talked for about a half hour, mostly about his courses, and his plans for a summer concert at the Academy, and a Thanksgiving concert at our church, to include neighboring towns. We had only two more weeks of choir at church, and then not another choir practice until the Monday after Labor Day, but we would have a lot to do then. He asked me if I would be willing to sing a one-verse solo, and for the first time in my life, I felt comfortable enough to say yes. He then asked me if I’d like to go to the movies in Essex Junction with him Sunday afternoon. All other nights were out, as he had a theatre rehearsal on Friday for the course he was teaching at the college, and private lessons on Tuesday and Thursday that went until six. On Wednesday, I had a dinner meeting in Montpelier for a secondary education group I belonged to. And on Saturday, I was going with Jack and Flo to their daughter Anne’s twenty-fifth anniversary

party in Sherborne. I decided to bite the bullet and say what was on my mind. “Seth, I’d rather go to the movies with you than do any of this other stuff.” “I know. I feel the same way. But I’ll see you at the Academy. One of your classes is just down the hall from the music room where I’ll be on Thursday. I’ll say hi if I see you in the hall.” We laughed. I wanted to ask him about his dinner with Jo-An, but decided it wasn’t any of my business. I waited for next Sunday. When Seth picked me up Sunday, I had already prepared Flo and Jack for our “date.” I felt I owed it to them to tell them that there was potential for a relationship between Seth and me, as I was living in their house and Gene had been gone only four months. They were most understanding, and very pleased it was Seth. As Sunday afternoon was very hot for early June, Flo and Jack were sitting in their grape arbor enjoying some iced tea when Seth arrived. We visited with them for a few minutes before leaving for the movies. For all his seriousness and intelligence, Seth had an underlying streak of black humor, as did I. The movie we had selected was one of the popular comedies of the spring. Earlier in the week, Laura and I had overheard several of the students talking about it who had already seen it, and they highly recommended it to me. Laura had asked me if I were going to the movies alone, and all I had told her was, no. She didn’t pry, but I saw a satisfied look on her face as if she had guessed correctly. Seth and I laughed and roared through the disgusting, sometimes raunchy, sometimes witty, scenes. The theatre, like all cinemas in the summer, was icy cold from the air conditioning, and I was glad I had worn a long sleeved, gauzy, two-pieced pants outfit. It helped even more when Seth put his arm around my shoulders and we nibbled out of the popcorn container like two eighth-graders on their first date. When we left the theatre, our sudden entrance into the stifling summer heat shocked our senses. For a split second, we were disoriented, and stood against the theatre wall, wrapped in the heat rising from the pavement. Before I realized what he was doing, Seth put one arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. He kissed me gently on the mouth, and let me go.

The heat of the early evening had put me into slow motion. I took his hand, and pulled him towards me again, kissing him first on the cheek, then on his mouth. “For someone who’s too shy to sing a solo, you don’t have any qualms about making a public spectacle of yourself.” He was smiling, and nodded towards the ersby, who were also smiling at our free show. “OK, then, we have two choices. You can either take me home, or we can find a more private place to do this.” I pretended to be insulted. “Well, I don’t really want to take you home, at least not to your house. How about mine?” He looked at me, and our eyes remained fixed on each other, searching for each other’s inner thoughts. I took his arm, never taking my eyes from his. “Take me to your house.” All I of Seth’s kitchen, which we entered through the side door, was that it was cooler than the air outside. A soft breeze occasionally ed between the two open windows on either side of the room. Seth’s house was an old farmhouse, similar in style to Flo’s, except with only two bedrooms upstairs. The kitchen, also the largest room in the house, was on the north side, shaded by clumps of lilacs at the door and windows, and giant maples and a butternut tree in the yard. I didn’t pay any more attention to the room because, as soon as we got inside the door, Seth began kissing me so ionately that for the next hour I lost all concept of where I was. Finally, when we lay back on the cool tile floor, Seth spoke. “I’m glad no one could hear us. We made quite a bit of noise!” I laughed. “I was in a hotel once in Iowa, and the two people in the room next to mine kept something going all night. Between their yelling and screeching, and the bed banging against my wall, I finally had to call the front desk. You’re lucky you live way out here.” “Lucky?” he replied. “I’ve never put the sound levels to the test until tonight. Except I can play the violin and piano as loud as I want.” I ran my fingers along the inside of his arm. “Would you play for me now?” “Both at the same time?” I punched him, and we laughed. “All right, but how about a cool shower first?” He rolled onto his side, and kissed my shoulder.

Seth stood up. His strong smooth body was haloed by the twilight coming through the windows. He pulled me to my feet, and led me to the bathroom. Afterwards, wearing one of Seth’s shirts, I stretched out on the living room sofa. Seth came in carrying a tray with two glasses of wine and two tall glasses of ice water. He set the tray down, and opened the windows to the porch to let the breeze in. He picked up his violin, and started playing. For the next hour, he serenaded me with the beautiful strains of Verdi, Mozart, and Copeland’s Appalachian Spring. The music was so sensuous, so moving, my body ached with a longing that was more than physical. Seth stopped playing and sat on the floor beside the sofa. I stroked his hair. “Seth, may I ask you something?” “Anything,” he murmured, his eyes shut and head leaning against my knee. “Well, I was wondering why, last weekend, you didn’t…I mean, well,..” He finished my sentence. “Kiss you?” He turned around, and knelt close to me, his arms around my waist. “God only knows how much I wanted to. And long before last weekend. But I wanted to make sure you wanted it for the right reason.” His hand smoothed my hair. “Claire, I like you a lot.” “I know. And I like you, too, Seth.” He moved onto the sofa beside me. About eleven, we woke up, our naked bodies, hot and sweaty two hours earlier, were now chilled by the night air. “Seth, I think I should go home now. It won’t do us any good to prolong parting until morning. And we need to get up early.” “I want you here with me forever.” “I am with you. I will be, I promise.” I kissed him, longingly and slowly. Reluctantly, we searched around the house for my clothes. As we walked to Seth’s car, the night breeze rustled the trees and shrubs. I bent to adjust my sandal, and noticed a shadow move quickly behind the house. I stood up, startled, but before Seth could ask me what was wrong, I saw a raccoon dart across the road. We both laughed. In Flo’s driveway, Seth shut off the ignition. I slid into his arms and his lips caressed my face. He whispered, “I have classes in Burlington all day tomorrow,

and won’t be home until six. Can I still see you?” “Would you mind if I were waiting for you when you got home?” “I’ll leave the key for you. Under the flower pot on my back steps, ok?” He kissed me again, and I got out of the car. It was my turn to watch him drive away. The following morning, I talked with Flo at breakfast and told her honestly where things stood with Seth. She put her arms around me and gave me a big hug. “Jack saw you come home last night. He had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and saw Seth’s car. We talked about it then, and you know you’re free to come and go as you wish. We can only be happy for you. You were a good wife to Gene, and you will always be our daughter-in-law. You also have a home here for as long as you like.” The morning was uneventful. Jo-An wouldn’t be in until eleven, as she had a meeting in Burlington. I worked on next year’s budget for an hour, and then went to the computer lab to lay out the cabling needs for expanding the lab next semester. About 10:30 I heard Winifred paging me. I called her at the switchboard. “What’s up?” “Claire, there are two gentlemen in the lobby to see you. May I tell them you’ll be right down?” Winifred’s voice sounded very formal. Two Vermont State Troopers plus our local sheriff, Fred Cooper, were waiting in the lobby. Puzzled, I looked at Winifred, and she nodded a yes to me, looking in their direction. I walked up to Fred, concerned. He acknowledged me formally, introducing the troopers. “Claire Phillips, this is Trooper Flanagan and Sergeant Moniz of the state police. We’d like to ask you some questions.” They must still be investigating Ellen’s death, I thought, or my accident. “Sure. Is this place ok,” I said, motioning towards the sofas, “or would you like to use my office?” “I think your office would be better,” Fred answered, still very formally,

avoiding my eyes. I began to feel uneasy. In my office, Sgt. Moniz began the conversation. “How well do you know Seth Ebbeling?” We had sat down, except for Fred, who was leaning against the wall, looking uncomfortable. “Fairly well. He’s my choir director and a good friend. We just went with our choir to Maine last weekend. Well, you know that, Fred. And, I guess I might as well be honest, we just started seeing each other. I mean, dating. I’m sure it will be all over town soon enough.” I started to laugh, but stopped abruptly when the others didn’t, and only glanced at each other. I grew more uneasy. “What’s the matter? What’s going on?” Fred stepped over beside me. “Claire, this isn’t easy to say, but I’m afraid Seth is dead. Rev. Henshaw found his body this morning. We need to ask you some questions.” I thought I would faint. The blood rushed from my head and I grabbed onto the corner of the desk, shaking. Fred finally discarded the professional reserve he’d been wearing and put his arm around my shoulder. “Hang in there. Can I get you anything?” I shook my head. “No, I’ll be ok.” I looked at the troopers, and collapsed into my chair. I was almost hysterical, but whispered, “What happened? Was there an accident? Did he fall? He was feeling alright when he took me home. Tell me!” The troopers looked at each other. Flanagan spoke. “We hoped you could tell us.” Suddenly I realized they didn’t think it was an accident. “Tell you what? What do you want? When I left him, he was fine!” The emotions were hitting me; Seth was dead, and they wanted to know what I knew? Flanagan replied, “Tell us all about yesterday. Everything you did, where you went, what time. Don’t leave anything out.” So I told them everything, as difficult as it was to tell strangers about last night, and as I talked, I realized what Seth had begun to mean to me. I finished with our parting in Flo’s driveway.

“Well,” said Trooper Flanagan, “it appears you were the last one to see Mr. Ebbeling alive.” “Excuse me, but you haven’t told me anything yet. Like, how did he die?” I sank back in my chair, exhausted, and with tears damming behind my lashes. Moniz looked at me. “He was murdered. Smashed in the back of the head with a frying pan. We found the frying pan on the kitchen floor.” I bolted forward, my arms pushing papers across my desk. “My God, what? Are you serious?” I started to shake. “Who would kill Seth? Everyone liked him. He was the kindest, gentlest person I know. This can’t be real.” I started sobbing hysterically. The troopers’ composure softened. One of them handed me a tissue from the box on my bookcase. I looked at Moniz and realized he was just doing his job. “What time did you say Ebbeling dropped you off?” Moniz continued. “Quarter after twelve. I , because Jack was up when I came in.” “We know. We’ve already talked to Jack.” “Then you knew my whole story?” I looked at Moniz in surprise. “Well, most of it, the beginning and end. But we had to see if your story fit with what we already knew. Look, would you want to come with us? This place isn’t the best for talking, and maybe you might think of some more details if we go over to Ebbeling’s house.” I picked up my purse and briefcase. Although I was reluctant to go to Seth’s, I knew I couldn’t refuse. Fred and I were the first through my door. Jo-An was standing next to Winifred’s desk with a strange, anxious look on her face. Winifred gave me an “I couldn’t help it” look and I realized that Jo-An must have demanded to know why my door was shut. I walked up to Jo-An. “I’ll be gone for the rest of the day, Jo-An. Have you heard? Seth is dead.” I started crying, and impulsively leaned towards her shoulder.

Jo-An stepped back. I caught her eye for just a second through my tears, and saw absolutely no emotion on her face. She turned toward the troopers, and pasted a sad smile on her face. “Seth was a wonderful teacher. We will miss him very much. If there is anything we can do, please let me know. By the way, how did he die? I need to inform the staff and students, and make arrangements here.” As Fred briefly filled her in on the details, Flanagan and I headed out the front door. Sgt. Moniz said he’d follow in the state car; he wanted to question Jo-An about Seth’s job at the Academy. In the car, I asked Flanagan again why they had come to me? “You were on Ebbeling’s appointment calendar for yesterday. ‘Movie, it said. Claire.’ That’s all. Fred said you were the only Claire around here.” Jack and Rev. Henshaw were waiting for us at Seth’s house, and the coroner’s van was just pulling away. Before we went in, Flanagan put it on the line. “Look, we know this is tough for you, but just tell us anything that comes to mind, ok?” I nodded, and we went in. Just inside the kitchen door, I stopped short. “Holy shit!” I looked around the room, surveying the most horrendous mess I’d ever seen. In the middle of the floor lay a wrinkled, blood stained white surgical sheet. I felt nauseated. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this how it was yesterday?” Moniz inquired. “No! I mean, we got here just as it was getting dark, and we didn’t have the lights on much, and Seth wasn’t the neatest housekeeper, but it wasn’t like this! This place has been trashed!” I walked into the dining and living rooms, careful not to touch anything. The same condition existed in the other rooms. I couldn’t believe it. “Someone has really messed this place up. It wasn’t like this at all.” I stood face to face with the five men. Fred had ed us by now. “Claire, can you think of anything that might be missing?” “Oh, come on, Fred. I was only here once, and it wasn’t to take a household inventory.” I wandered through the living room, and noticed the violin on the floor, still in its case. “Hey, I do that Seth put his violin back up on the piano last night when he was done playing. In fact, zipped it in its case, and laid

it right there on the piano.” I pointed to the baby grand in the corner. “Is this where you found it?” Flanagan reached down and, with gloved hands, began dusting the violin for prints. He then did the same on the piano. “Nothing. Only Ebbeling’s. You never touched it?” “I had no reason to. I don’t play.” I was uncomfortable. “Hey, wait a minute. When we were leaving last night, there was a noise outside in the driveway. We saw a raccoon run across the road a few feet away, but it was creepy anyway.” “Show us.” The men led the way through the kitchen. As I ed a pile of music on a side table, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a brown folder near the bottom of the pile. I was about to call out to Fred, and then changed my mind. I followed them outside, showing them where I’d heard the noise. In the bushes, alongside the house, they found some footprints, and eagerly began setting the prints, taking photos and videos. Fred came over to where David, Jack and I were standing under a shade maple. “Well, it appears that the footprints are smaller than either yours or Seth’s, Claire. So I think your story is good for now.” “Fred, you asshole, you’re one hell of a guy.” Jack took me home before I could hit Fred.

Chapter 17

Seth’s sister had decided to have only a memorial service at the church on Thursday. He had been cremated following the autopsy, and she was taking the ashes back to be buried with his wife and daughter. Thursday evening, following the service, I stood outside the church with Sally and Denise, the three of us crying, and holding each other for . “It’s not fair, it’s not right, that he’s gone.” Sally was sobbing. “I can’t believe how empty and lonely it feels just knowing he isn’t around.” But my crying was giving way to anger. “When are the police going to find who’s doing this? And who’s next?” Flo took my arm. “Let’s go home. You need to eat something, and you also promised to help me paint and wallpaper the downstairs rooms, ?” As soon as I arrived home, I changed into shorts and one of Gene’s old shirts that I loved to wear around the house. Flo, Jack and I moved the furniture from the living room into the dining room and foyer. It made the dining room crowded, but we now had a good, empty space to work in. I was glad to throw myself into this project. After not sleeping much since Monday, I was physically and mentally exhausted. I was reminded of just how fragile I was when I had arrived at work that morning, before the funeral. Jo-An was already in her office, and I said good morning to her as I opened my door. My phone rang almost instantly. It was JoAn. “Claire, it’s Jo-An. Can you come in here a moment, please?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but hung up. I left my purse and briefcase on my chair and went into her office. “Shut the door, Claire, and have a seat.” She motioned to the easy chair across from her desk.

I disliked talking with her when she was in a patronizing mood, as she was now. “Claire, I am very concerned about what Sgt. Moniz told me Monday about your involvement in Seth’s death. I should say, your alleged involvement. I am very concerned about the reputation of the Academy and the scandal that this will cause. We have students and parents arriving in less than two weeks for graduation and end of semester. I’m sorry, but I had to advise the Board of what’s happened here. I called Arthur Williams last night.” I was numb, but not too surprised. If I were in Jo-An’s position, I’d be obligated to advise the Board. But something didn’t make sense and I was having trouble listening to her and trying to think at the same time. “I’m sorry, Jo-An, but I don’t think there’s any cause for you to be concerned. Granted, I was upset Tuesday and I just couldn’t come to work. But I was here Wednesday, and I am not letting it interfere with my work. I will be ok. And, I’m not sure what you meant about my involvement. What did Sgt. Moniz say?” I looked at her, puzzled. I could tell that Jo-An was getting flustered. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were starting to get glassy. Her voice rose in pitch. “It’s not so much what he said. It’s what’s all over town. Everyone knows you were the last one to see Seth alive. And the fact that the two of you…well, you know, that is just unacceptable for this school.” She was practically yelling now. “Do you realize the moral standards you’ve just flaunted by sleeping with another staff member?” I blushed. I wasn’t ashamed of myself, but I was embarrassed for Jo-An to be throwing this incident in my face when something more serious, like murder, was the issue here. I decided to tell her. “Jo-An, I resent your accusing me of any involvement in Seth’s murder. Unless the police bring any charges against me, I don’t think we have an issue here.” I tried to remain calm and even-voiced. Jo-An flew out of her chair in a rage. “We’ll see about that. Whether the police bring charges or not, the Board will probably recommend relieving you of your position. In the meantime, I suggest you have as little interaction with the other staff and students as possible.”

“Are you suggesting I take a leave of absence?” I was quivering, but I didn’t want Jo-An to notice. “If that’s what you want.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and looked down at me, smugly. “No, it isn’t. I have done nothing wrong, and I have no reason to leave. I’ll wait for the Board’s decision.” I stood up, and left her office, knowing that I hadn’t heard the end of this. So, as Flo and I began removing old wallpaper that evening, I told her what had happened at work. “Claire, there’s no reason for you to go through all this with that bitch. Oh, I’m sorry. But she’s the only person I know who really fits that word. Jack and I would be happy if you quit.” “Don’t you see? I can’t quit now, more than ever. Quitting now would be itting she was right. It would also prove again that I, we, everyone who works for her bends under her pressure. No, I won’t do it.” “Claire, you’re too stubborn. But,” Flo sighed, “If that’s what you want, we’ll your decision.” Flo and I stayed up until after midnight stripping paper and sanding the walls. The night air was much cooler than it had been when we started this project before supper, and the coolness gave us the incentive to keep going. Jack had gone to bed hours ago. Finally, exhausted, I took a quick warm shower, put on my cool satin pj’s, and sank onto my bed. Flo had been right, I thought, as I drifted off. The papering project would give me the physical crash I needed. Sometime around dawn I awoke briefly, acknowledged the time, and fell back asleep again. But this time my sleep was restless, as I knew the alarm would go off in an hour or so. In my half-sleep, then, I dreamed, a very bizarre dream, where Chris Dusoe was standing on his head in the grape arbor chanting, “Details, Claire, details.” I was racing naked around and around the arbor screaming, “It’s right around the corner, it’s right around the corner.” Suddenly, I collapsed onto the grass, dizzy and panting. As I lay there in my dream,

watching Chris through the grape vines, he jumped to his feet from his headstand and plucked bunches of ripe, red grapes from the branches and threw them to the arbor floor. Chris then began stepping furiously on the fruit, crushing them into reddish, purplish juice. I began screaming, as the river of grape juice flowed toward me, and I awoke, sweating, shaking and dizzy, realizing that I had fallen out of bed and was lying on the floor. I lay there for a second, trying to orientate myself to the room and the early morning light, when Jack burst into the room. “Are you all right?” He knelt down and, putting his arms around my shoulders, helped me to a sitting position. “We heard a loud thump. What did you do, fall out of bed?” “Oh, Jack, I had a terrible dream. I must’ve fallen…” My mind suddenly cleared, and I knew what the missing detail was. “Jack, help me up.” My voice must have sounded strange because Jack looked at me funny and said, “Are you ok? Do you want me to call Dr. Samuelson?” I headed for the bathroom. “Jack, I’ve got to get to work. Would you do me a favor? Would you mind calling Chris Dusoe for me? Anytime, even now, on his cell or leave a text. He seldom shuts his phone off. I’ll leave his cell phone number for you downstairs. Ask him to call me here, and not at work or on my cell. Tell him I need to see him as soon as possible. Tell him I think I found the missing detail. Or details.” After a quick shower, I threw on a simple summer dress and grabbed a pair of cotton gloves I wore for cleaning. With my hair still damp, I raced downstairs to get the number. Flo and Jack were standing there, looking concerned. I kissed Flo. “Don’t worry about me. If Chris calls back, would one of you text me?” In the kitchen, I grabbed a pair of Flo’s cotton gardening gloves, and ran out the door to my car. The dew was heavy on the grass as I drove up the driveway to Gregory Hill. Where the early sun broke through openings in the trees, the dew sparkled from the rays stretching like long arms across the lawn. I parked my car and ran into the building to my office. I noticed the kitchen staff were just arriving to begin breakfast preparations.

Once in my office, I fumbled through my purse looking for my Swiss Army knife. I was shaking, and paused for a moment to take a deep breath. I opened the small knife blade, and pulling my heavy desk away from the wall about five inches, I knelt down on the floor. I carefully pulled back the carpet from where I had laid the electrical cables ten months before, and pried the piece of molding up with my knife. I needed something to hold the molding away from the wall. I grabbed a fat rubber eraser out of my desk drawer and stuck it under the molding. Then, very carefully, I scraped as much of the reddish stain as I could off the wall and into a small white envelope. I didn’t care that I took a small chunk of the paint and plaster, as it was more important to get enough brown stuff to do a lab test. I removed the eraser, tapped the molding in place, patted the carpet up against the wall, and moved my desk to its original position. After tucking the envelope securely into the inner pocket of my purse, I hurried out to my car and over to Seth’s house. The house was still marked off with yellow police tape. I parked at the end of the driveway, and slipped under the tape. I ed Seth had told me there was a key under the flower pot. I put on the cotton gloves, found the key and unlocked the door. Inside, nothing had been disturbed since my last visit except the coroner’s sheet was gone and the floor had been cleaned. Seth’s sister would probably be back in a few weeks to empty out the house and sell it, she had told us. I hurried to one of several small tables in the living room that were stacked high with books and sheets of music. The stacks of music hadn’t been disturbed by the intruder. About halfway down one of the piles was the brown folder I had seen on Monday. I carefully pulled it out. It was an ant’s fold-over, elastic accordion file folder. I opened it and leafed through the contents. Bingo. Kevin’s cash reconciliation. He must have left it here that night last summer when he and Seth settled their argument about the casting. I ed Sally’s story. I quickly locked up the house, putting the key back under the flowerpot, and hoping the house wasn’t under surveillance. I had to get to work, but I wanted to find time to review the file. I was a humid mess from the hot, damp morning. I quickly combed my hair, which had now dried, and pulled it back. Using the rear view mirror, I put on some lipstick, and being fairly presentable, hurried to work. Jo-An was just going up the steps as I pulled into the parking lot. I decided to leave the folder in the car. Flo called about eleven a.m. I had been on pins and needles, waiting for her call,

but trying to be as calm and normal as possible. Jo-An was practically ignoring me anyway, as though I wasn’t even there. I intentionally went over to the computer lab to set up the equipment for the start of summer classes. I asked Winifred to put any calls for me directly to the lab and to not page me, under any circumstances. I had told her about my confrontation with Jo-An. Winifred was very sympathetic. “Claire, it’s Winifred.” She was whispering. “I think it’s your mother-in-law on line one.” “Thanks, Winifred.” I picked up the outside line. “It’s Flo. That call you wanted just came. Can you talk?” “A little. I’m in another building. You tell me and I’ll answer yes or no.” It was getting so I didn’t trust anyone. “Ok. Chris said he’s in Ticonderoga on another case, but can be here by four. I told him that was fine, as you went to work at five this morning and will probably be home early. Was that ok?” “Yes, and thanks. I’m sorry for being so weird, but I’ll fill you in when I get home. I’ll be home by three.” About two-thirty, Jo-An left for the day to go to a meeting in Montpelier, so my leaving was easy for once. When I got home, I took a long hot shower followed by a cold rinse. The heat wave was into its tenth straight day without any rain. Thankfully, there were breezes at night, and most people without air conditioning, and that was most people in northern Vermont, opened all the windows at night to let the cool air in, shutting the windows in the daytime. I clipped up my hair, and put on shorts and a t-shirt. Flo and Jack were waiting for me in the arbor with three tall glasses of iced tea. I brought them up to date on Chris’ conversation from three months’ ago through my dream of last night. Just then, Chris drove up. “Well, I didn’t get to why I needed to see Chris, but the timing is right.” I walked to the fence and called to Chris. “Hi! We’re out here!” Chris quickly settled into a chair, while Flo went for more tea. When she came back, I told the three of them about the dream and subsequent events of today.

“I hate to be an ‘I told you so,’” Chris said, “But there are details and events in everyone’s lives that we see and hear each day and are completely oblivious to. It’s only when we sift out all the extraneous matter that the important things come to the surface. Can I see the envelope? I took the envelope out of my pocket. Chris opened it, careful not to touch the contents. I noticed how he handled the envelope and I assured him I, too, had not touched anything but had scraped it directly into the envelope. “Good,” he said, “Now, for some reason at some time, you must have thought this was blood. When did you first notice it?” “Way back, in September or October, I think.” “Before or after my first visit to question the staff at the Academy?” “After, I think,” I replied. “Why is that important?” “I’m curious for professional reasons. If it were after my visit, your mind might have been more receptive to suspicious events. Because it was before, you think, your subconscious wasn’t connecting the brown stain to any event or circumstance. Most of us tend to think linearly and we ignore items out of sequence.” “Well, Chris, there’s more. I also ed something Jo-An told me about having to paint the walls after Kevin left, and how she had spent one whole night doing it. It was after that that Roland had painted my office, after she had primed it. See, Flo and I were patching and priming last night, and somehow my mind must have played games and connected the two.” Flo had gone into the house and reappeared with a plate of hors d’oeuvres. “Chris, you’re welcome to stay for supper. Jack is just going to throw some steaks on the grill, and we have some early lettuce from the garden. I need to pick it before it bolts from this heat.” “Thank you, Flo. As much as I’d like to stay in this lovely arbor and enjoy the evening with you folks, I want to get this sample to the lab tonight. Flo, may I use your phone? I’ve got my cell recharging in the car.” Jack reached over and handed him the portable phone from the little table in the arbor. Chris looked up the number of the police crime lab in his little book and dialed.

When he’d hung up, he turned to us. “Good. There’ll be someone there to meet me.” He looked at me. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Claire. Would you rather I called you here again, than on your phone or at work?” I nodded. By late the following afternoon, when I hadn’t heard from Flo, I called home. Jack answered. “Hi, Jack. I was just calling to see what was for supper and if Flo needed anything.” I made up a story in case Jo-An, who had been flitting around the offices all day, was listening. Jo-An was preparing to leave on vacation, and seemed very reluctant to go. Winifred said it was because she didn’t know how to vacation. Jack laughed. “Chris is here. He called Flo about an hour ago and she invited him to supper again. This time he accepted. She likes to feed him.” I could hear Flo and Chris laughing in the background. “I’m on my way,” I answered, and within ten minutes, was headed home. When I ed the three of them in the arbor about twenty minutes later, they reminded me of Alice’s Cheshire cat. “Chris,” I scolded, “you’ve already shared your news!” I feigned indignation. Chris laughed. “I had to. Flo and Jack had me cornered. It’s blood, all right. And the DNA is Kevin’s. There’s no question. His mapping was on file in San Diego, when he had had a physical there before moving to Vermont. Isn’t technology great? The police were able to get access to his medical records because he is listed as a missing person, and it only took until three this morning before we had what we needed.” Chris continued, sipping a cold beer. “So, there’s no question in my mind that something happened to him in your office, but there’s still no proof who, how or why. And, where’s the body? Let’s assume that Jo-An and Kevin had one too many an argument. We know Jo-An’s relationship with Kevin was never good, and from what Jared has told me, it got worse after Jared came out here to visit that Christmas, when Jo-An realized that Kevin and Jared were good friends. Jared told me that Kevin had been telling him for about a year how Jo-An was constantly making suggestions about the two of them going out, or whatever. She frequently asked Kevin to accompany her to business functions and dinners and on quite a few occasions, he accepted. But he never told Jo-An he was gay,

because he wasn’t sure of how she’d handle that. Jared and Kevin had lived together openly in California, but Kevin didn’t like or trust Jo-An enough to share his personal life with her.” I thought of all the cruel innuendos and comments Jo-An had made about Kevin and I was ashamed of myself for not stopping Jo-An when she publicly ridiculed Kevin, or anyone else, for that matter. Gene had been right, I was a wimp. I had no balls. Just then, another thought flashed into my head. “Chris, did you know that Jo-An went out with Seth once? Right after he started teaching at the Academy in April, she wouldn’t leave him alone. As soon as she’d see him drive up the road, she’d drop whatever she was doing and head over to the music department to hang around and flirt with him.” “I knew that, about their going to a business dinner in Burlington. It was in the police report from when Moniz interviewed Jo-An. But she made it clear that it was business only, to give him exposure to the educational community. There was something else, too.” Chris looked at me. “Moniz also asked her if she was romantically involved with anyone. Ready for this? She told him that she’d once been engaged, but it had ended. I guess she still wears some large rock on her finger.” I was incredulous. “I always wondered what the ring was for. I thought it was a family heirloom or something.” “Well, so did I, the first time I saw it when I interviewed her. I did some checking, and she did have a boyfriend in grad school, in England. And get this: he died, too, of natural causes, according to the medical report. He died in the school infirmary during a bout with the flu. I’ve requested a professional courtesy from an investigating firm in London to dig a little deeper for us. If my hunch is correct, I’m willing to bet the boyfriend was trying to end the relationship and Jo-An wouldn’t take no. We’ll see.” “But Chris, we’ve only got hunches still. Even the blood in my office. Kevin could have cut himself doing what I do with the computers.” “Yes, I know. But there’s something else I have to tell, and it’s not going to be pleasant.” Chris looked at Flo and Jack. “I don’t think Gene died of natural causes.”

Chapter 18

Chris’ words stunned me. “But Chris, after Ellen died, you and everyone else were convinced she was a suicide. I had my doubts, but I could never prove it.” “I had my doubts, too, but without evidence, I wasn’t going to speculate. Think, Claire, why didn’t you think Ellen would take her own life?” I thought back to everything Chris had told me after the investigation. “There were several things. One, Ellen cared too much for her kids to kill herself. Especially where she didn’t leave a note to them, anyway. And the note. It was too impersonal, too factual. Ellen would have been all emotional. Oh, the other thing. the giraffe Christmas ornament? How did that get broken?” Flo was looking at us curiously. I realized she and Jack had not been part of this conversation before. But I was on a mental roll and couldn’t stop. Chris interrupted before I could speak. “What was the Christmas ornament doing in her room?” “Easy. I think I told you how sentimental Ellen was, particularly when Flo gave the giraffe to her. She probably didn’t keep it with her Christmas things, but on her bureau or something. That’s where I keep special things, hanging from the mirror. Were there any signs of a struggle?” “No. The room was in very good order. The broken giraffe was under the bed, beneath the throw rug. It could have been easily overlooked if someone were trying to straighten up, if that’s what you mean.” Chris was smiling. I nodded. “But why would Jo-An kill Ellen, if that’s who you’re thinking of? And how does this tie in with how Gene died?” Chris cleared his throat, and poured another beer. In a soft voice, he replied. “Because I think whoever killed your husband, Claire, killed Ellen, too. And tried to kill you, and succeeded in killing Seth. And got rid of Kevin. My hunch is, it’s Jo-An.”

Flo, Jack, and I stared at Chris. I spoke up. “I guess I must have felt this all along, but didn’t want to it it. I could see where she might have been angry with Kevin. Maybe jealousy was the motive. But then, why would she have to continue, and kill Gene, Ellen and Seth? It doesn’t make sense.” “Sure it does. First, you told me how Jo-An disliked Gene from the moment she met him. Probably even before she met him. I don’t think Jo-An likes men in her life, for whatever reason. Let’s see what we find out from London and her past. But we know that she didn’t like Kevin after she found out he had someone else. And, she was all over Seth. We know that she was incensed because the two of you were friends. You told us about her conversation with you the other day. But was she aware the two of you were together the night he was killed?” I thought for a moment. “You know, you might want to talk with Laura Thomas. She and most of the staff knew I was going to the movies with someone, and I think she knew it was with Seth. It would not have been unusual for her to tell Jo-An. She tells her everything.” Chris nodded. “OK, that gives us motive. She wanted men to love her, but killed them when she couldn’t have them. There must have been something in her life to cause her to be like this.” He paused. “I know! Ellen told me once. Jo-An’s father died, just before her high school graduation. She was very close to him.” “Bingo! I’ll make a few calls and see what we can find about her past.” “But, Chris, why kill Ellen?” “That I don’t know. Maybe to throw everyone off the track. Or maybe Ellen found out and she had to get rid of her. No, that part doesn’t make sense. Flo, may I use your phone again? I’d like to start on these calls.” The following morning in work, I asked Winifred what time Jo-An would be in. I was trying to avoid her by working in the lab, or just being elsewhere. I had heard nothing of the Board’s opinion surrounding Seth’s death and my involvement, and I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. As it was, Jo-An was barely speaking to me. I wondered how much longer this could go on. “She won’t be in, Claire. I found this note on my desk. She and her mother left

last night on vacation. It says here, she wanted to get an early start and beat the weekend traffic.” I was surprised, but then, why? Jo-An was so unpredictable. “Where was she going on vacation, Winifred? Where does she usually go?” “She’s never been, at least not while she’s been working here.” That explained why the Board was so adamant that she take some time off, and why she was so upset that day after the meeting. They probably had it out with her over a lot of things. I realized that I was not going to be reprimanded by the Board for any ‘inappropriate’ behavior. I also doubted very much that Jo-An had even spoken with them about me and had lied when she mentioned Arthur. She was only using scare tactics. I’m so stupid, I thought, worrying about this all week. Laura came in to use the copier. “Hi, good morning, how is everyone? We’re going to have a few days free, huh?” She seemed to be in good spirits. “Hi, Laura. I guess so. Do you know where she went?” I nodded towards JoAn’s door. “Sure. They went to Hampton Beach, New Hampshire. Before the summer crowds get there.” “Jo-An doesn’t strike me as a beach person.” Winifred looked surprised, too. “Mostly for her mother. The sun and heat will be good for her arthritis, and it was her mother’s choice. They went there as a family years ago. Jo-An will just read, and explore the shops, I assume. They’re staying at a very nice inn.” “I’m sure. And when is she returning?” Winifred looked at the note, then at Laura, and they both laughed. Winifred explained. “She originally told Laura, and the Board, two weeks. But her note here says next Wednesday, and she’ll be around home for the other week. Big deal. That means she’ll be in here every day.” “And,” Laura added, “I wouldn’t even count on Wednesday. She’ll be back early.”

I laughed. “Will someone give me her vacation time? I’d love to use it.” The next two days were wonderful. Lydia and I agreed how peaceful the office was without Jo-An’s frenetic behavior. I got caught up with everything that had piled on my desk during the last week, and finalized my schedules for the June audit. That’s when it hit me. I had forgotten the folder I had confiscated from Seth’s house. How stupid of me. My brain was so fried from all the stress, the emotions, that I was lucky I could even function. I ran out to my car and found the folder on the floor in the back. I hurried back into the building. Winifred looked at me questioningly. “No calls, Winifred. I don’t want to be disturbed!” And I shut the door. For the next two hours, I studied the contents of the folder page by page. It was Kevin’s cash reconciliation for the entire two years he had been there. The amount of the cash discrepancy had grown month by month to the point where it was obvious there was a serious problem. His Excel spreadsheet compared the bank deposits, the student receivables and the cash receipts carefully. Finally, at the end of the package, I found his final note. I could tell from his writing that he was as nervously excited as I was now in reading it: Note to file: See attached student receipts. The discrepancy for each month equals the sum of the receipts given to students in that month where the method of payment is circled “cash” instead of “check.” I was shaking. I grabbed the stapled stack of receipts for September of that year. Kevin had put the “cash” payment ones on top. I added them up. Sure enough, the amount equaled the total of the month’s variance. I tried it with October. Yahoo! It matched. That meant that someone was not depositing the cash to the bank, but was posting the receipt as paid to the student . And we had a lot of students who paid in cash each semester, especially the foreign students, or those who were on a monthly plan. I yanked out the bank statement for that September, and saw where Kevin had proofed the receipts. The total was off by the cash variance. By now, I was really shaking. Just knowing what Kevin had discovered was scary. Then it hit me. The day Gene had called me, the morning he had died, he had been very excited. Could he have found the same thing? But why hadn’t I been able to find his paperwork? Oh, God, I thought! That’s it! Because whoever killed him had taken it. Just like they had ransacked Seth’s house looking for this package. Because whoever did it knew that this was the incriminating evidence. It was embezzlement, and big money. The school had been dipping into

endowment money for the last two years to cover operating expenses, while our budgets told us that the total revenues generated from tuition should have been sufficient to operate. I had to get home. There was one more place to look that I hadn’t thought of before. And I needed to reach Chris. On my race home, I called Chris from my cell phone. Damn. Only his voice mail. I told him it was urgent and to please call me. Once home, I practically fell through the kitchen doorway, crashing into Flo, in my haste to get upstairs. “Good gracious, Claire, what’s the matter?” “Nothing. Not yet. I’ll tell you later.” I dashed into our room, and turned on the computer. I changed my clothes while the desktop computer booted up. Finally, I searched all Gene’s directories. Although he had been doing most of the office work for me from his bed, using a bed table for the laptop, it was possible there could be something saved on the computer and not saved on the Cloud. It’s possible he did some things from the PC. On the ride home that day, I had ed Gene saying something about getting an email from the bank. After his death, I had read any unread mail, but never looked at the old mail, especially since I had forgotten about this. Sure enough. On the desktop, he had a folder called ‘bank’. In it were all the spreadsheets and pdfs he had been working on and collecting. And there were the copies of all the deposit slips Gene had requested from the bank, with a copy of the email, dated the day Gene died, from Debbie at First Vermont Savings. “Sorry it took so long to retrieve these from fiche. If you need anything else, please call me. Debbie.” I was ecstatic. The bank’s copy of the deposit slips for the dates in question did not show any amount on the top cash line! The copy matched our office copy exactly, except our yellow office copy did have a cash amount on the top line. But when I added our slip copy up, it came up short by exactly the cash amount. It was obvious to me, as I looked at our copy, that someone had probably used a piece of carbon paper and added the cash amount to the slip after the deposit had been brought back from the bank. I was shaking, and I was scared. Anyone who would kill over keeping this quiet had to be very desperate. I hoped Chris would call me back. Chris called me Friday morning, on my office phone, only a few minutes after

nine. Winifred teasingly sang out, “Claire, it’s that nice Mr. Dusoe on the line!” Good thing Jo-An wasn’t here. Chris sounded jubilant, too excited to ask what I had wanted him for. “Claire? Are you sitting down? I found out a couple of things that confirms our theory. It doesn’t prove anything, but we’re getting there. First of all, the boyfriend in England. My friend spoke with Neal’s sister. Neal was her fiancé. Anyway, Neal’s family did not like Jo-An. It took about two years of dating, including an engagement, for Neal to come to the same conclusion. According to his sister, he had told her, just before he got sick with the flu, that he intended to break off the engagement. Whether he ever told Jo-An or not, no one except Jo-An knows, because Neal died two days later. The death certificate says natural causes related to the flu, but according to the hospital records, there was an internal inquiry concerning a nurse’s negligence. There was some concern that Neal suffered an embolism of the lung, and the nurse on duty could not locate a missing hypodermic needle. She was suspended for two weeks, but was eventually reinstated when the cause of death was finally determined to be respiratory failure from natural causes. Guess who the nurse was? Just out of nursing school, too. Ellen Bennett. Married name Saunders.” “The second thing is her father. Good old dad died the night before Jo-An was to graduate from high school. I talked to an elderly neighbor from her home town in New Jersey. She told me that Jo-An and her father were inseparable. The mother never did anything, or went anywhere, except on vacation. The father’s whole world centered on Jo-An. He was a banker, made good money, and gave her everything; private school, car, the works. She never went to her graduation, because of his death, and almost didn’t start college on time that fall. Seems like she was in counseling most of that summer. The neighbor ed Jo-An came out of the house only to go to her sessions, for about two hours a day. Her mother went with her every day, and she was the one who confided all this in the neighbor. Mrs. Senecal was very desperate and lonely, and scared at the thought of losing Jo-An. But, by the time Jo-An went off to college, Jo-An seemed to have regained control of her life, much to Mrs. Senecal’s relief.” “Well, Chris, this is really interesting. It certainly gives credence to what we were thinking. But what do you think I found?” And I proceeded to tell him about the cash. For a moment, there was silence, then in a low voice, he said, “That’s got to be

it. Maybe I’ve been wrong all along. Not jealousy. But money. Love and money are the two biggest motives for murder. But why would Jo-An need money?” “Maybe it wasn’t for her. She seems to be ing a whole infrastructure of friends with their hands out. Ellen and the drugs? And the connections to Simpson School. Chris, I’m scared. She’s going to be back any day. What do we do next?” “I’ve spoken with the state police. Mike Davidian? He’s been assigned to this case, but doesn’t have a problem with my getting involved. We sort of kissed and made up.” Chris was in a happier mood than I had ever heard him. “I guess he figured we’re doing most of the leg work. Anyway, when Jo-An returns, would you give him a call? Davidian wants to pay an informal call on Ms. Senecal. And I’ll share with him what you’ve found out. Make sure you have all those records well organized, but put them on a flash drive and hide it somewhere. We’ll need them as evidence.” “But Chris! There’s still one other thing. It’s obvious to me that someone changed the deposits slips to appear that the money went to the bank when it really didn’t. But we have no proof who that is. There are at least six people who have assisted or worked in and around the business office. There’s old Bob, who’s in Florida now, and Lydia, of course, and Jo-An, Kevin, Winifred, Sarah and even a temp they had for several months before Sarah.” “You’re right, I know, Claire. Why doesn’t Mike take a look at what you’ve got? Maybe we can get fingerprints or a handwriting clue from the deposit tickets. You must have the originals in the office, right?” I thanked Chris for calling, and tried not to think about what might happen when Jo-An returned. Winifred, out at the switchboard, broke my train of thought. “The mail’s here! Come see the post card Jo-An sent of the beach!” I put Chris out of my thoughts for a minute and went out to see Winifred. She was reading the back of the card. “Miss you all. The weather is too cold at the water, but we have done some sightseeing. Hope to be back soon. JA.” I looked at the card. “Great. If the weather were hot, she’d find fault with that, too. Winifred, when do you think she’ll be back?” “My guess is Monday or Tuesday. By the way, how is that cute Mr. Dusoe? You

see him a lot, don’t you?” She took a push pin out of her drawer and stuck the post card on the wall with the collection of other vacation mementos. I blushed. “Yes, he was hired to find Kevin, but has sort of hung around to help with the murders, as he’s convinced they’re all connected.” “Really? Now that’s interesting. I have a theory on..” The phone rang. We never finished our conversation. On Sunday, Flo and I went to church, as painful as it was without Seth there. I hadn’t been in the church since the memorial service for Seth, and wasn’t sure if I could handle it. The choir was going to sing, so I ed them downstairs before the service as usual. Sherry had volunteered to fill in as organist, and although she was off the crutches, she still had a light cast on her leg and used a cane. Sitting between Marion and Wendy during the service helped me, as they kept writing notes to each other and ing them across me. I knew they were doing it to keep me cheered up, and I appreciated it. They were sad, too, having known Seth longer than I had. We did the best we could to help each other. On Monday morning, I received a strange phone call, the final key that Chris had been looking for. Winifred took the call first, and from my office, I could hear her conversation. “Who? Ellen Saunders? No, this is Gregory Hill Academy. That’s right, she worked here. Could you hold on a minute, please? I’ll let you talk with Mrs. Phillips, our business manager.” “OK, Winifred, I hear you! Put it through!” I laughed, and called out to Winifred. We had a standing joke that whenever Winifred didn’t know what to do with a call, she’d give it to me. But only when Jo-An wasn’t within ear-shot; otherwise, Jo-An would grab the call. “Hello? This is Claire Phillips. How can I help you?” The man on the other end replied. “Hi. This is Ted Aucoin from the Self-Store in Essex Junction. I was looking for an Ellen Saunders?” “I’m really sorry, Mr. Aucoin, but Mrs. Saunders no longer works here. Is there anything I could do for you?” I wondered what Ellen had to do with the storage facility.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Well, maybe you can help me. I was trying to track her down, and the only phone number in her file is this one. I’m not sure what to do next. Is there any family I could call?” “What’s it about? If she left this number for the Academy, it must be business. I may be able to help you.” “She rented a unit from us last June, and paid a year in advance. The rent is up for renewal July 1. But that’s not the problem. We’ve just finished building a whole new section of units, and we want to replace the roof on the existing one while the crew is here. We had some snow damage last winter. We need her permission, and assistance, to relocate the contents of her unit to a new one.” A chill went up my spine. I thought fast, wanting to get as much information for Chris as I could. I put on my authority voice. “Ted, I think I can authorize that relocation for you. But when did you say Ellen rented the unit?” “Let’s see. Umm, she was in here on July 1. I , because I was on that weekend, and it was pretty busy, with the holiday and all.” “Do you what she looked like?” “What do you mean?” Ted sounded suspicious. “You see, Ted, she wasn’t a well person, and I knew her only a short time, as I’m new here. I was just curious what she looked like a year ago. Poor lady.” I had to think quickly and give him a sob story. “Oh, sure. She had red hair, I that. Real red, long and curly. And sort of heavy set, with a puffy face. You know, come to think of it, she didn’t look well at all.” I was ecstatic, but I kept my cool. “Thanks, Ted. She was real sick. Say, would it be all right if I come in and just check out the contents for any damage? I can authorize the move, too.” “Do you want to pay for another year in advance? Mrs. Saunders paid in cash.” I was cold, even though it was a hot day. This news was too frightening. “I’m not sure right now. Let me talk with our custodian and see if we want to do it

month to month. We may want to clean some things out.” I was sure of that. “By the way, do you have a copy of the receipt Ellen signed when she paid last year?” “Sure do.” Chris would be so proud of me. It wouldn’t take much to prove the identity of the signature. “Thanks, Ted. How about tomorrow morning, around ten? See you then.” I hung up, and immediately texted Chris. I knew he was still in the Burlington area, as he was investigating a ‘spousal indiscretion’ case, as he called it. He returned my call within five minutes. The following morning, I met Chris and Mike Davidian at the gate to the SelfStore. “Chris, Mike, hi. Chris, I have to tell you something else before we go in. The guy here, Ted, is going to think you’re our custodian at the Academy, ok?” “Good luck. I was already here once, ? But my fault. I was checking under Kevin, Jo-An, or the Academy’s names. Too simple, and too easy a trail to follow. I was stupid. Well, let’s see if Ted re me as the nosy investigator.” Mike waited in the car so as not to let his uniform alert Ted to any issues. Ted looked at Chris as though trying to place him, but Chris kept quiet, keeping his head down, as I talked fast and self-confidently. “It was so nice of you to call me, Ted. Some places wouldn’t even give you the courtesy of a call. Will you show us the unit? Then we can decide if we want to move the stuff.” My stomach was in knots as Ted led us to the unit, a double at the far end. The metal roof sagged slightly from the snow damage. Ted pointed out the repairs that needed to be done as he unlocked the door. He then excused himself to help another customer who had just driven in. Mike ed us. Stacked haphazardly and tightly were the contents of an apartment, minus appliances. Bed frame, mattress, bureaus, sofa, tables, chairs, boxes of clothes, dishes, books and whatever filled the unit. It was practically impossible to walk

to the back, as the items had been packed almost to the ceiling. Mike, being smaller than Chris, deftly climbed over the bureaus, and across the mattresses. He crawled over the narrow edge of the mattress and disappeared. All we could see from the doorway was the beam from his flashlight. “Hey, you guys, who wants the first guess as to what I just found?” I looked at Chris, and we both smiled, although I was nervous and practically shaking, from fear and excitement, I suppose. “No guesses, Mike,” Chris replied. “We know. It’s white, and had four tires. Right?” Mike reappeared in sight, climbing back up and over the furniture. “Yep. You got it.” He brushed the dust from his suit. I ed another item. “Was the bicycle there, too?” Mike paused from brushing, and seemed surprised. “You’re right. Two witnesses saw a bike on the rear rack. No, it wasn’t there. And I didn’t see it anywhere.” He looked around for Ted. “Look, I don’t want to let on to this guy just yet. Claire, you’re doing a great job. Let’s get out of here, and we’ll come back with a warrant. I don’t want word leaking out that might scare off Jo-An until after we talk to her.” I found Ted, got a copy of last year’s receipt, and told him we would need it for our records if we took over managing Ellen’s things. I promised him we would be back with the rent. At our cars, Mike asked me when Jo-An would be returning. I told him I thought it would be Wednesday, but that we could never be sure. I promised to let him know, so he gave me his direct number. He cleared his throat, and I knew he was going to say something he didn’t want to. “Look, Claire, you’ve been a great help. But we still have no proof. We know that someone, obviously wearing a red wig and with heavy makeup, posed as Ellen to rent this unit on July 1 of last year. We also know that Kevin was last seen, in his car, getting gas at a station outside of Essex Junction, on July 2, and that the U-Haul truck was seen in front of his house July 5. We might also assume that if someone did pose as Kevin, that he, or she, used a bicycle for the return trip. This doesn’t accuse anyone. But, Claire, we have several unsolved murders here. Whoever did it is very, very smart, and extremely dangerous. You

could be in a very serious position if this person ever thought you had any knowledge. I don’t want you involved from this point on.” I’d come too far, and had too much emotional involvement, not to want to continue. Chris was not looking at me, so I knew he’d had a role in this decision. I was angry. “Just try to stop me, Mike. And you, too, Chris.” I was more than furious, and I showed it. “This was my husband who died. And my friends. You’ll have to tie me up before I’ll step out of this.” I jumped into my car and slammed the door, pressing the lock lever. Chris tapped on the window. I lowered it only an inch, not trusting him. He wasn’t smiling. “Smart lady, aren’t you?. But look, this is for your own good. We mean it. Please be careful! Don’t say or do anything around anyone that isn’t your normal daily activity. And make sure there is always someone with you. I’m going to talk to Jack and ask him to drive you to work until this is over. Promise?” I nodded, and drove off, tears streaming down my face from anger and frustration. Sure enough, Tuesday night, Jo-An arrived home. We found that out Wednesday morning, when Winifred told me that Jo-An had obviously been in her office Tuesday evening. She had opened all her mail, and left notes for Winifred of things to do. Also, that she would be at home for the rest of the week, doing errands, but would be in and out. Just enough to keep us on our toes, I thought. But she wasn’t in now, and I had some things to finish up in the computer lab. As I was rearranging the computer tables for the summer sessions’ smaller class into a more intimate square-shape, I ed I was going to clean out and print Ellen’s procedures from her old directory, and save the files on our shared drive. Celeste, the new nurse, was very nice, but relied on Jo-An for everything. Just the type of dependent person Jo-An would hire. I thought it would be helpful to give her what Ellen had already started, and move the files into a new directory just for Celeste. Then she could do what she wanted with it. I sat down at a computer, and opened the ‘Ellen’ directory. Just as we had gone over in class, Ellen had created subdirectories for all her work. She had learned quickly. ‘Procedures’ was one, and ‘Inoculations’ and ‘Students’ were others. She had half a dozen. I was about to copy them to the new directory ‘Celeste’ when I noticed the last folder wasn’t a subdirectory, but a Word file named ‘Claire.’ That’s funny, I thought. I opened it.

“Claire, I hope you find this file. I pray that you will before it’s too late. I’m too scared to call anyone, and I’m in too much trouble now as it is. What happens, happens, but I want you to know. When the police came to talk to me today, I freaked out. At first, I thought they had found out about the drugs. I figured it was coming someday. Jo-An’s been getting the stuff for me from Cindy’s ex. I’ve gotten so bad I just get up everyday, go to work, come home. In between, I shoot up or snort. I don’t know what’s going on in my kids’ lives, and Jo-An does practically everything for me at work. The only thing I enjoy is working for you and Gene. You people are great, and I’ll always love you. I wish we could have been better friends, Claire. When the cops started asking me about Gene, I knew something was really wrong. I was scared. I made a terrible mistake years ago when I was first working in England, and a patient accidentally died. He was Jo-An’s fiancé. That’s how I met Jo-An. She was almost glad he had died, because he had broken their engagement, and she was very bitter. She’s taken care of me ever since, and I’ve become her slave. I hate myself for it. I was pretty high after Gene’s funeral, and when I sobered up, it hit me. I ed seeing a white Subaru when I left your house that day, parked at the intersection. I don’t anything else. I didn’t tell the police this, because I’m too scared about the drugs and Jo-An finding out. But please believe me, Claire, I did not kill Gene.”

I was shaking all over. I quickly printed the file, saved it to a thumb drive, and stuffed the page and the drive in my pocket. I left the directory where it was. Right now, I needed to find a secure place to make a phone call. As I was running down the hall towards my office, I heard Heidi’s shrill barking coming from behind the building. The barking didn’t stop, and was most anxious-sounding. I ran into Winifred on the back steps, who had left her desk and had come outside to see what was wrong. “Claire! Something’s got Heidi all worked up! Over there, by the Commons!” She pointed to where Heidi was ferociously barking and pawing at something in the garden.

I was calmer than I thought I could be after reading Ellen’s note. “Winifred,” I said, touching her arm. “Stay right here in case I need you. I’ll go see what it is.” I ran down the back steps and across the driveway to the flower bed. Heidi was frantically digging in the flower bed where Jo-An and I had planted bulbs last Halloween. The flowers were almost all gone by now, with the last of the June-blooming tulips just past their prime. There, intermingled with the drooping tulip leaves and half sticking out of the soil, was a foot. A human foot. Or what was left of it. It was part bone, with some flesh and tendons attached, but not much. There were some remnants of fabric attached in stringy pieces to the bone and ligaments. I felt the blood draining from my face. I turned and ran over to Winifred, who had come down the steps. I was shaking, and feeling light-headed. “Winifred, please call these numbers.” Shaking, I fished Chris and Mike’s cards out of my purse. “They’re the pager and cell numbers for Chris and the state police. Hurry, please. When they call back, tell them we’ve just discovered a foot, and possibly a leg, in the flower garden. Tell them, also, that Jo-An is back and around here somewhere.” Winifred stared at me in disbelief and horror. “Is that what Heidi’s barking about?” She pointed to the flower bed. “No time, Winifred. Hurry!!” As she turned to go up the steps, I restrained Heidi as best I could by holding onto her collar and dragging her back from the bed. Before I could decide what to do next, I saw Jo-An drive up around the front of the Building. She must have heard the barking, too. I began to panic. I couldn’t let her find the bone and me. Maybe I could cover it back up. Winifred wouldn’t tell. But Heidi had other ideas. With a powerful surge, Heidi caught me off guard and pulled herself free, practically tearing my fingers off. She leaped into the middle of the flower bed again. Now I knew what she had been after last fall, with her frantic digging then. Heidi must have buried the bones, and when Roland later added more dirt to the bed for planting, the bones were well covered up. Finally, the frost heaves this spring had pushed this bone to the surface once again. With a quick snap, Heidi grabbed the bone in her teeth and raced for Roland’s office, disappearing through the door. I had no choice but to give chase. Inside Roland’s office, I saw Heidi’s tail disappear through her doggy door. I slid

open the heavy steel door and followed her inside. Heidi was stretched out across her doggy bed, her short legs covering and guarding her latest possession. She growled at me as I knelt on the floor in front of her. “Nice girl, come on Heidi, give me the bone. I’ll give you a treat!” I pretended to hold up a biscuit, but I couldn’t fool her. Then I felt, rather than saw, the shadow across the doorway, darkening the boiler room’s faint light for a second. Heidi stopped snarling, looked up, and began wagging her tail. I turned, startled by the presence of someone in the doorway. “Oh, thank God, Winifred, it’s you! You scared the shit out of me.” I leaned back on my heels. “Did you call Chris? The police? Is Jo-An around? I thought I just saw her drive up.” I leaned back further, pointing to the bone. “It looks like we’ve found something, finally. Do you have any idea, Winifred, what this might be?” I was so excited, from nerves, fear, the stress of the moment, and my voice was quivering as I spoke. “And look, Heidi has a shoe in there, too. I have a pretty good idea we’ve found what’s left of Kevin!” Winifred stepped into the room, her rubber-soled oxfords silent on the concrete floor. With one hand, she easily slid the heavy door shut. “Winifred? Did you call Chris?” I repeated my question, a little hesitantly this time, as Winifred hadn’t answered. “No, Claire, sorry. I didn’t. I didn’t think it was necessary.” She picked up Roland’s shovel leaning against the wall. “Chris can’t help you now.” My brain still hadn’t kicked into first gear, so I didn’t get to my feet fast enough. With one lunge, Winifred swung the shovel, and I thank God, my quick roll to the right saved my neck from the force of the shovel, which crashed to the floor instead. For a second, I tried to think whether it was better to attack and stop her, or to escape. As she lifted the shovel for a second blow, I saw a metal crow bar lying alongside the furnace. I grabbed it with both hands, heavy as it was, and rolling onto my back, held it up in front of me. I was just in time to deflect the second crashing blow of her shovel. But my quick action surprised her enough for her to pause. I leaped to my feet,

the weight of the crow bar no obstacle for my renewed adrenalin burst. I pointed it at her. If I lunged first, I could pin her against the wall, seriously if not fatally injuring her. She hesitated, and our eyes met. Her face was cold, expressionless. “Winifred, why? Why? How could you? I don’t understand.” We paced slowly in a half-circle, waiting for each other’s next move. “It was easy, Claire.” Winifred sneered venomously at me. “I had too much at stake. I had it made here until Bob left. He was old and stupid and didn’t have a clue. Then Kevin came, and got in my way. He had to go. Jo-An is stupid, too. She also hasn’t a clue what really goes on under her nose. She’s too busy running getting involved in the wrong stuff. But the rest of you, well, you got in the way, too.” She swung at my head, and I quickly sidestepped, turned and smashed my crow bar against her thigh. Winifred screamed, dropped her shovel, and lunged forward, grabbing my neck. I was in a physical struggle for my life. Winifred was strong, incredibly strong for her age. She had my head fiercely and tightly clenched between her hands, and I thought she was trying to break my neck. The injury to her thigh didn’t even seem to bother her. I ed what I had seen in TV fight scenes. I mustered all my strength and kneed her in the groin, causing her to double over and loosen her grip. As I ducked to run around her, she stuck out her leg and tripped me. I fell hard and fast to the floor, my left arm under me and ripping with pain, and my head hitting the concrete floor. But before she could grab the shovel or crowbar, I swung my leg out, making with her ankles, and knocking her to the floor. I rolled on top of her, and attempted to hold her down with my one good arm and sheer body weight. In the meantime, I was aware Heidi had begun barking again. Apparently she was confused by two people she liked engaged in a not-so-friendly activity, and she was prancing and barking around us. Winifred struggled under me to get free, and was succeeding. She was much bigger and stronger than I, and not as injured. But just as Winifred rolled over, pinning me down and grabbing my throat, I heard the door to the boiler room slide open. Within seconds, Winifred was being dragged off me, and Chris was kneeling next to my head. Jo-An knelt down on the other side and examined my arm, which was hanging rather limply at my side. “Jesus. Are you all right?” Chris put his hand on my forehead, and looked at the blood soaking between his fingers. With his other hand, he pressed his

handkerchief to my head. I didn’t say anything for a minute. Fred and Mike were handcuffing Winifred, who was continuing to put up a rather forceful struggle as they half-dragged her from the room. Then, I just lay there and cried, with Chris holding me, until the ambulance arrived.

Chapter 19

I spent three days in the hospital recovering from a broken arm, mild concussion, and multiple bruises, during which time Winifred was arraigned on four counts of murder and one attempted. During that time, I had given Chris and Mike the copy of Ellen’s letter I had printed from the computer, which provided them with the missing pieces. The first thing I did upon leaving the hospital was to write my letter of resignation from Gregory Hill. Jack and Chris drove me to work the morning when I personally delivered the letter to Jo-An. I said hello to Sarah, who was working the summer session and had replaced Winifred. Sarah jumped up from her chair to hug me. Jo-An was in her office and rather surprised to see me, actually getting up and coming around her desk to greet me. “Claire, how are you? Are you better? I’m sorry I didn’t get around to visiting you this time while you were in the hospital, but someone had to keep the office running. Did you like the flowers we sent? Is there anything you need?” Yeh, I thought. Some genuine concern. I handed her the letter, which she took, her hand trembling. While Jo-An read the short note, I spoke. “I think it’s best, Jo-An, for both of us. I need to start over. I wish you and the school the best.” Her reaction took me off guard. She leaned heavily against her desk, and sighed. “I am really sorry to see you go. Are you sure you don’t want to give it another try? You have been a breath of fresh air for all of us, Claire.” She sat down on the edge of her desk, a defeated look on her face. “In fact, I’ve been seriously considering if it’s time for me to go, too. I need to slow down, to do something different. I wouldn’t feel as guilty about leaving if you were here to break in a new heaster.” I shook my head. As much as I liked the school, there would be too much baggage associated with my staying. “Sorry, Jo-An. I’m going to look for something else as soon as the doctor says I can go back to work. Good luck to you.” I shook her hand, and after collecting my plants and other personal belongings, quickly left the building, saying good-bye only to Sarah.

As soon as we were home, Chris helped me out to the patio. “You’re exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed?” “No, I’m tired of lying in bed. I’d rather stay here and talk with you. How long can you stay?” “Until morning. I have to catch a flight to Birmingham. A new case. But Flo already said I could stay over tonight.” “You’re making yourself right at home, aren’t you? Is it her cooking?” I teased. “You guessed it. Partly, anyway. And maybe I like the whole family. Look, Jack went in to get some drinks and I’m going to go help him. Is there anything you want?” I had settled onto the cushioned chaise lounge, and sank back against the pillows. “No thanks…Yes, there is. A real tall iced tea - just lemon and lots of ice. Oh, and if there’s anything in the fridge to make sandwiches? Gosh, I’m hungry all of a sudden. Thanks.” I looked up at the sky, which was solid blue. The day was hot, a steamy day, capable of brewing a thunderstorm. I could see the billowy cumulus clouds looming in the west. Jack and Chris reappeared with a tray full of drinks and sandwiches. Flo had gone shopping and would be home later. Chris handed me a plate and a glass, and sat down on the end of the chaise. “Tell me again, Chris, exactly what happened when Winifred was arraigned. Even before that. She really put up a fight, huh?” “Mike said that in all his years on the force, he hasn’t dealt with a tougher person. She struggled, and swore, all the way to Essex Junction. Unbelievable, he said. But, besides what she itted to you in the boiler room, she also told her lawyer and the judge at the arraignment pretty much the same things. She did not deny any of it. She was mostly angry that she got caught; that she felt she had had a good thing going, and was upset that the game was over. Her lawyer had tried to keep her quiet, and to get a plea of not guilty in, but she just exploded in the court room.” “But regardless, Mike had gotten finger prints off the deposit slips, and every

one of the questionable tickets had been taken to the bank on her days to do the banking. She knew all the students, which students paid by cash, and when, and was always conveniently there to help Lydia by doing the banking. But unknown to anyone, Winifred also had access to the student receivable system because she knew Bob’s old - ? You said the whole and system needed to be cleaned up. Winifred would receive the payments from students, cash, checks, whatever, and do up the deposits and take them to the bank. She would leave off the cash payments, however, and keep them for herself. She would then give the bank slips to Lydia, who would post the receipts to the student s. Of course, the balance would always tie out. Then, whenever she was alone, Winifred would post the cash to the students’ s so the students’ statements would be accurate, otherwise they’d be complaining that their bills were wrong, and then she’d throw away the transaction reports to eliminate a trail. Kevin was the first person, and then Gene, to realize that the transaction reports, which are in numerical order, had missing pages every so often. And to notice that the bank deposits didn’t equal the receivables cash, which by now was always higher than the bank’s totals.” “What was the motive, Chris? Over the past several years, she’s taken hundreds of thousands of dollars. Why?” “She was a gambler. Big time. Her late husband had left her the house, paid for, and she had re-mortgaged it for cash. She spent practically every other weekend in Connecticut at the casinos. She used to go to Las Vegas, but it became more convenient and cheaper to gamble closer to home. When we investigated there, the dealers knew her personally and readily identified her from her picture. They, like all of you, thought of her as a nice senior citizen retired teacher-type. They did notice that she was a good black-jack player, played for high stakes, and frequently won. But her losses were also high. One dealer ed that once, she had spent an entire day and evening at the tables with hardly a break. But still, no one would ever guess she had to embezzle and kill to her habit.” “I just can’t believe it. She was so nice, and like a mother to me, and to all the staff.” “She was a good actress. She knew she had to live the part to keep the game going.”

“And that’s another question: how did she actually kill Kevin and get his stuff into the storage facility?” “Easy. You know how strong she is! Her years as a phys-ed teacher kept her in shape. She apparently killed Kevin in his office, probably when he confronted her with what he knew, and hauled his body to the boiler room on a maintenance wagon most likely. She knew that Roland would soon be shutting it down for annual cleaning. Kevin was a light weight, so she shouldn’t have had any trouble moving him. But the really disturbing fact is, the furnace door isn’t large enough to get a body in, so it appears Winifred must have done some “alterations” to Kevin before he would fit.” Chris paused. I had stopped eating my sandwich in mid-bite. “Do you want me to continue?” I nodded, forcing myself to swallow the ham and cheese. “We found an axe in the boiler room that had DNA matching Kevin’s. The leg and shoe also matched. Once the body was taken care of, she had to make it look like he disappeared on his way to California. To dispose of his possessions, she took advantage of the school’s theater department. She got the wig and clothes from the theater. She had access to Jo-An’s keys and knew what times, after hours, nights or otherwise, were safe to slip around campus. Well, we already figured she had disguised herself as Ellen in order to rent the unit. That was the heavy-set red-headed woman the self-store guy saw. And she disguised herself as a man, Kevin, in order to make people think it was Kevin leaving town that day. She pulled it off pretty good, wouldn’t you say? Oh, and we asked her about the B&E at Seth’s last year. She itted to that. Why not? She had said. She was looking for Kevin’s paperwork. She was concerned he was getting suspicious, with the questions he had been asking her and Lydia, and the morning after the theater try-outs last June, she overheard Kevin call Seth and ask if he had left a folder at his house. It became a moot issue, because then Kevin disappeared and Seth must have forgotten about it. He had so many papers and stuff in his house, and was a bit absent-minded, he probably just never thought about the folder again.” “So far, so good. But how did she kill Gene?” “Ellen, in her letter, said she saw a white car that morning. Everyone had white

cars. Jo-An’s car dealer friend, ? But this one was Winifred’s. That morning, when Gene called you, Winifred had already tapped into your voice mail and re-saved the message as new. You people all used your extensions as your voice mail s. No big deal for Winifred to listen to everyone’s voice mails on a routine basis. That’s why she knew everyone’s whereabouts and goings-on. So that morning, she realized Gene was on to something. She faked her leg injury for an alibi, went to your house, suffocated Gene, and took the ing evidence. That’s why you never found the hard copy of what Gene had been working on, except what was on the computer. She went to her doctor. We checked the doctor’s records, and the time they treated her was actually 11 a.m., so that gave her plenty of time. Her alibi was good at face value, but the details and timing prove otherwise.” “What about Ellen though? Ellen didn’t say whose white car it was, because she wasn’t sure, maybe?” “Ah, that’s right. Ellen didn’t know, but more importantly, Winifred saw Ellen, and was afraid she’d been seen. She couldn’t take the chance. It worked to Winifred’s advantage on two counts to kill Ellen. One, she had to get rid of her in case she’d seen her, and two, to make it look like Ellen committed suicide after killing Gene. Perfect. The second part fell right into her lap. We bought it, almost, ? And Seth got killed because he came back too soon to his house that night from driving you home. Yes, don’t look so surprised. Winifred was trying to get back into Seth’s house to look for the first set of reconciliations. She was worried that with your spending so much time there, Seth might find them and give them to you. She was waiting outside the house when you two left that night. Her footprints matched the set Mike found. She had had time to ransack the house before Seth came back. He was hit from behind, so she must have clobbered him when he came in the kitchen door.” He paused when he saw the look on my face. “Sorry, Claire.” I had winced at his choice of words, but went on. “Yes, but what about Jo-An? What happens now?” “You know, it’s interesting. If you hadn’t found Ellen’s note, the case would have been closed right here, and Ellen would have been innocent of Gene’s death anyway. But because the note has incriminating facts about Jo-An’s relationship to drug trafficking, in order to supply Ellen with the fixes she needed, Mike has to investigate that as a separate crime. Jo-An doesn’t know it’s coming yet, but

when it does, she won’t be working around here again.” I ed what she had just told me that morning about a change of pace, about slowing down. It should be real slow behind bars. I wondered if she and Winifred would be in the same prison, and the thought of them as cell mates caused me to burst out laughing. “Want to share the joke?” Jack asked. “I was just thinking of the two of them together in prison. Oh, my.” I continued to giggle, unable to take a sip of iced tea, picturing them in prison fatigues. When I finally calmed down, Chris added, “So, what are your plans now? Are you going to stay here?” “She’d better,” Jack said. “We’re just getting used to her.” “Where would I go? I mean, I don’t have a job, and I don’t want to leave Jack and Flo, either.” “Well,” Chris continued, “I happen to know a guy in Burlington who has a very good ing firm. He is looking for a financial consultant, flexible hours, some travel throughout the Northeast. If you’re interested, I could give you his number.” “You know, that might be a possibility. And, what about you? Are you going to have much opportunity to get back to this area?” I was a little concerned we might not see Chris anymore. “I have to finish up a few jobs, like I said. But, it’s possible, just possible, I might be ing a private firm in Burlington myself. An international detective firm with headquarters here and in Montreal. What do you think?” I was coy. “Oh, I don’t know. Do you really think you’d like Vermont?” He leaned over, putting his hand on my shoulder, as the first clap of thunder rolled over the mountains. “It doesn’t matter where I live, as long as the people are as nice as the three of you.”

Biographical Summary

Leah J. Salisbury’s first novel, Write-Off, deals with white collar crime and the everyday emotional and psychological struggles in the business environment. Salisbury, who holds BA and MBA degrees, has worked over forty years as a financial and ing manager in the corporate world, and cleverly weaves the facts of business life into her imaginative characters and backgrounds. Having spent much of her own childhood in rural Vermont, Salisbury enjoys creating fictional characters who blend seamlessly into the New England environment. She presently lives in Maine, with her husband and cats, and has recently finished a sequel to Write-Off, in another bizarre tale of murders and missing persons.