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Authors: Elizabeth C. Main
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checkbook, I dug past the troublesome can opener, an address book Bianca had left at my house, and a Mickey Mouse puzzle that I had picked up for Kevin, my three-year-old grandson. Good thing Bianca was probably helping Minnie cross-examine Alix right now instead of witnessing this performance. She wasn’t shy about suggesting improvements to my way of organizing my life.
At last, I held the store keys aloft in triumph. Phil and Eileen, busy gathering up various parcels, weren’t watching. Velda had observed the awkward search, but she was smiling, as always. I smiled back. It was nic e someone approved of me .
No sign of Minnie and Bianca yet, or Tyler or Laurence, of course, so it was up to me to get the meeting started. The Murder of the Month Book Club had been the first group to meet at Thornton’s regularly, as it featured an intrinsic connection to the store, but somehow Thornton’s Books had become a m ecca for other local groups, hosting meetings for organizations as diverse as the Women’s Empowerment Group, the Class of Eighty-Four Reunion Committee, and today’s group, the Save Our Seniors (SOS) organization. Minnie and Bianca had formed this group recently after their volunteer work at the local senior center had made them aware of numerous frauds that had been perpetrated on the vulnerable elderly population of Russell County over the past two years. Their tender hearts had led them to spearhead this effort to educate local elders about the predators who often targeted them.
I was glad to see that Tyler had found time to arrange chairs in a semi-circle in the bay window before he’d taken off to spy on his grandfather.
Velda set my books on the counter and spoke in her usual hesitant manner. “ If it would be helpful, I can heat the water for tea while you get settled. ”
The door opened to admit Mr. Jorgenson, who pushed his wife’s wheelchair over the threshold with difficulty. Serena Wannick clumped in behind them with her walker. Most groups met upstairs, but this group stayed on the m ain floor, for obvious reason s .
“ You’re a lifesaver, Velda. Come on in, everybody. Take a seat. ” I moved toward the door to help those entering. “ The tea bags are— ”
“ I’ll find them. ” Clearly delighted to help, Velda scurried as fast as her aching back would allow her toward the office. I watched her go, thinking as usual how unfair it was that someone so young had to co ntend with a chronic limp.
Tyler burst in the door, almost crashing into Serena. “ Oops. Sorry, Mrs. Wannick. ”
He flushed and started toward me just as Desmond McCutcheon, the guest speaker, swept into the store. The original idea had been for our speaker to arrive a few minutes after the general meeting had begun, but people were still milling around. T hings weren’t exactly going according to plan this morning.
I greeted him. “ Dr. McCutcheon, we’re so glad you could join us. We’re running a bit late. ”
“ So I see. ” After taking a particularly long look at the enormous bar-turned-counter, he pronounced judgment. “ Quaint. ”
I kept the smile on my face. Dr. Desmond McCutcheon had been teaching three miles up the road in the Sociology Department at Russell County Community College for twenty years, but he rarely mingled with the common folk of Juniper. Only the fact that Bianca had asked him to speak today had pried him loose from his classroom, or, more realistically, his mirror.
U n fortunately, Desmond McCutcheon reminded me of a popular drama professor I’d had in college long ago. He’d wowed the young women on campus with his wit and wisdom, especially those who hadn’t been away from home long enough to recognize clichés. Young enough at the time to sit entranced through his lectures, I hadn’t realized until years later that he had lifted most of his mannerisms straight out of old Cary Grant movies. His “ original ” ideas were anything but.
“ If Bianca will be so kind as
At last, I held the store keys aloft in triumph. Phil and Eileen, busy gathering up various parcels, weren’t watching. Velda had observed the awkward search, but she was smiling, as always. I smiled back. It was nic e someone approved of me .
No sign of Minnie and Bianca yet, or Tyler or Laurence, of course, so it was up to me to get the meeting started. The Murder of the Month Book Club had been the first group to meet at Thornton’s regularly, as it featured an intrinsic connection to the store, but somehow Thornton’s Books had become a m ecca for other local groups, hosting meetings for organizations as diverse as the Women’s Empowerment Group, the Class of Eighty-Four Reunion Committee, and today’s group, the Save Our Seniors (SOS) organization. Minnie and Bianca had formed this group recently after their volunteer work at the local senior center had made them aware of numerous frauds that had been perpetrated on the vulnerable elderly population of Russell County over the past two years. Their tender hearts had led them to spearhead this effort to educate local elders about the predators who often targeted them.
I was glad to see that Tyler had found time to arrange chairs in a semi-circle in the bay window before he’d taken off to spy on his grandfather.
Velda set my books on the counter and spoke in her usual hesitant manner. “ If it would be helpful, I can heat the water for tea while you get settled. ”
The door opened to admit Mr. Jorgenson, who pushed his wife’s wheelchair over the threshold with difficulty. Serena Wannick clumped in behind them with her walker. Most groups met upstairs, but this group stayed on the m ain floor, for obvious reason s .
“ You’re a lifesaver, Velda. Come on in, everybody. Take a seat. ” I moved toward the door to help those entering. “ The tea bags are— ”
“ I’ll find them. ” Clearly delighted to help, Velda scurried as fast as her aching back would allow her toward the office. I watched her go, thinking as usual how unfair it was that someone so young had to co ntend with a chronic limp.
Tyler burst in the door, almost crashing into Serena. “ Oops. Sorry, Mrs. Wannick. ”
He flushed and started toward me just as Desmond McCutcheon, the guest speaker, swept into the store. The original idea had been for our speaker to arrive a few minutes after the general meeting had begun, but people were still milling around. T hings weren’t exactly going according to plan this morning.
I greeted him. “ Dr. McCutcheon, we’re so glad you could join us. We’re running a bit late. ”
“ So I see. ” After taking a particularly long look at the enormous bar-turned-counter, he pronounced judgment. “ Quaint. ”
I kept the smile on my face. Dr. Desmond McCutcheon had been teaching three miles up the road in the Sociology Department at Russell County Community College for twenty years, but he rarely mingled with the common folk of Juniper. Only the fact that Bianca had asked him to speak today had pried him loose from his classroom, or, more realistically, his mirror.
U n fortunately, Desmond McCutcheon reminded me of a popular drama professor I’d had in college long ago. He’d wowed the young women on campus with his wit and wisdom, especially those who hadn’t been away from home long enough to recognize clichés. Young enough at the time to sit entranced through his lectures, I hadn’t realized until years later that he had lifted most of his mannerisms straight out of old Cary Grant movies. His “ original ” ideas were anything but.
“ If Bianca will be so kind as
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