Read Online Chicory Up: The Pixie Chronicles by Irene Radford - Free Book Online
Authors: Irene Radford
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beside the ambulance and dashed into the station.
“Well, maybe this crisis is my business after all. Dick needs to rescue someone. Now that his sister is engaged to Chase Norton, the town Eagle Scout is at loose ends. I wonder what it will take to divert him…”
“I thought I was the town Eagle Scout,” mused a tall man with flaming red hair and a mask of freckles across his face. His bright green eyes twinkled.
Phelma Jo closed her gaping jaw with a snap. Haywood Wheatland paled in comparison to this drop-dead gorgeous hunk of male.
“And you are?” she asked, standing as tall as she could. Even in sensible two-inch heels, the top of her head barely reached his chin. Unconsciously, she smoothed her glossy dark hair, certain that it had to be bristling.
“Ian McEwen, building inspector for Triple Giant Insurance.” He handed her a business card. “If you are Phelma Jo Nelson, then I think we met one summer when we were kids. Mabel Gardiner is my aunt.”
Phelma Jo inspected the card, rubbing her thumb across the embossed lettering to make sure the ink didn’t smear. It looked authentic. He had a hard hat and industrial length measuring tape attached to his belt, and a clipboard tucked under his arm.
“I know Mabel. She’s never mentioned you.”
“I… um…” He blushed a brilliant shade of red that clashed with his hair. “We lost contact at the end of the last summer I lived with her. She objected to my choice of friends and I objected to… some of her rather strange stories about Pixies.”
Phelma Jo snorted in agreement. “I’ve heard some of her crazy stories. And I am Phelma Jo Nelson. I own the building.” She made a show of checking a note on her smart phone. The name matched the notice she’d received. “What do you need from me to get in and get out as quickly as possible without disrupting my tenants?”
“Access to the roof, the basement, the circuit breakers, heat plant, and a sample of the plumbing. Then I’ll determine what else I need to see based on what I do or do not find.” He flashed a grin. She noticed a twisted front tooth and a bit of an overbite. Not as pronounced as her own.
She smiled back, revealing her own crooked teeth. Unlike Dusty and Dick, neither Phelma Jo’s mother nor a string of foster parents could afford braces for her teeth. Now that she had the means to have them fixed, she flaunted the constant reminder of her humble beginnings.
She felt an instant kinship with Mr. McEwen.
“This way. If you don’t mind, I’ll watch while you work. I don’t allow strangers the run of my buildings.”
“If you insist. But
I
have to insist you wear a hard hat, too. Never know what kinds of bugs, snakes, and low hanging pipes will ambush you.”
“I don’t scare easily, Mr. McEwen. I have my own hardhat at the entrance to the basement boiler room.”
Seven
D USTY ESCAPED TO THE BASEMENT of the museum in the late afternoon. M’Velle, the high school senior who worked after morning classes, had the tours covered. She also knew how to redirect the kids who wanted a preview of the haunted maze through The Ten Acre Wood—either to plan their own ambushes or avoid tricks by other kids. An hour before closing they shouldn’t have more than the odd family or individual paying to see the inside. At this time of day, most stragglers contented themselves with the outdoor exhibits, especially the pioneer jail. Kids loved climbing in and out, marveling at the dirt floor sunk three feet below ground level. She knew they’d be disappointed when it was locked up during the weekend evening festivities.
She carried under her arm the fat legal-sized envelope from Mabel’s desk and the missing child poster of a girl she’d never seen but would keep an eye out for. Why had Mabel insisted that Dusty and Chase read the envelope’s contents today? Surely nothing could be more important than getting Mabel to the hospital. The EMTs had fixed an oxygen mask over her face
“Well, maybe this crisis is my business after all. Dick needs to rescue someone. Now that his sister is engaged to Chase Norton, the town Eagle Scout is at loose ends. I wonder what it will take to divert him…”
“I thought I was the town Eagle Scout,” mused a tall man with flaming red hair and a mask of freckles across his face. His bright green eyes twinkled.
Phelma Jo closed her gaping jaw with a snap. Haywood Wheatland paled in comparison to this drop-dead gorgeous hunk of male.
“And you are?” she asked, standing as tall as she could. Even in sensible two-inch heels, the top of her head barely reached his chin. Unconsciously, she smoothed her glossy dark hair, certain that it had to be bristling.
“Ian McEwen, building inspector for Triple Giant Insurance.” He handed her a business card. “If you are Phelma Jo Nelson, then I think we met one summer when we were kids. Mabel Gardiner is my aunt.”
Phelma Jo inspected the card, rubbing her thumb across the embossed lettering to make sure the ink didn’t smear. It looked authentic. He had a hard hat and industrial length measuring tape attached to his belt, and a clipboard tucked under his arm.
“I know Mabel. She’s never mentioned you.”
“I… um…” He blushed a brilliant shade of red that clashed with his hair. “We lost contact at the end of the last summer I lived with her. She objected to my choice of friends and I objected to… some of her rather strange stories about Pixies.”
Phelma Jo snorted in agreement. “I’ve heard some of her crazy stories. And I am Phelma Jo Nelson. I own the building.” She made a show of checking a note on her smart phone. The name matched the notice she’d received. “What do you need from me to get in and get out as quickly as possible without disrupting my tenants?”
“Access to the roof, the basement, the circuit breakers, heat plant, and a sample of the plumbing. Then I’ll determine what else I need to see based on what I do or do not find.” He flashed a grin. She noticed a twisted front tooth and a bit of an overbite. Not as pronounced as her own.
She smiled back, revealing her own crooked teeth. Unlike Dusty and Dick, neither Phelma Jo’s mother nor a string of foster parents could afford braces for her teeth. Now that she had the means to have them fixed, she flaunted the constant reminder of her humble beginnings.
She felt an instant kinship with Mr. McEwen.
“This way. If you don’t mind, I’ll watch while you work. I don’t allow strangers the run of my buildings.”
“If you insist. But
I
have to insist you wear a hard hat, too. Never know what kinds of bugs, snakes, and low hanging pipes will ambush you.”
“I don’t scare easily, Mr. McEwen. I have my own hardhat at the entrance to the basement boiler room.”
Seven
D USTY ESCAPED TO THE BASEMENT of the museum in the late afternoon. M’Velle, the high school senior who worked after morning classes, had the tours covered. She also knew how to redirect the kids who wanted a preview of the haunted maze through The Ten Acre Wood—either to plan their own ambushes or avoid tricks by other kids. An hour before closing they shouldn’t have more than the odd family or individual paying to see the inside. At this time of day, most stragglers contented themselves with the outdoor exhibits, especially the pioneer jail. Kids loved climbing in and out, marveling at the dirt floor sunk three feet below ground level. She knew they’d be disappointed when it was locked up during the weekend evening festivities.
She carried under her arm the fat legal-sized envelope from Mabel’s desk and the missing child poster of a girl she’d never seen but would keep an eye out for. Why had Mabel insisted that Dusty and Chase read the envelope’s contents today? Surely nothing could be more important than getting Mabel to the hospital. The EMTs had fixed an oxygen mask over her face
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