and tapped them into his shirt pocket.
“I called back and there was no answer,” Miss Honnkernamp replied.
He glanced over his shoulder. The setting sun sliced through the front window and screen, turning Miss Gail’s hair the color of cornsilk. She’d repaired it and her face was pink from a recent scrubbing, but there was no hiding the red nose and puffy eyes.
“I was attending to other calls,” he said into the phone.
“Were you?” Miss Honnkernamp’s voice took on a pout. “I didn’t hear anything on the line.”
Miss Gail crossed to the bookshelves and took out a stack of publications. He’d not had a chance to look through all of them, but he knew the ones on top were from the Audubon Society.
“Hello? Mr. Palmer?”
“Yes, ma’am. Who can I connect you with?” He stayed turned around in the chair, watching Miss Gail sift through the pile. She was clearly looking for something in particular.
“Actually, I was calling to, well . . .”
Ding.
Miss Gail looked up, her eyes going from the board to him. But he couldn’t read her expression, backlit as she was by the fading sun. Could she even see what she was perusing?
“Shouldn’t you light a lantern?” he asked.
“Shouldn’t you answer the phone?” she replied.
“I’m sorry?” Miss Honnkernamp said. “Light a lantern? I’m not sure I heard you right. You sound far away. Are you speaking into the mouthpiece?”
Shifting back around, he adjusted the speaking disc. “There are calls coming in, ma’am. Was there someone you wanted to talk to?”
“Well, I . . . of course,” she snapped. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Schmid at the mercantile, please.”
“One moment.” He checked his list, connected her to number four, then answered the waiting call. When he had everyone settled, he took off the earpiece and twisted around, hooking his arm over the back of the chair.
He wanted to come right out and ask her what was wrong, but truth was, it was none of his business. “When does the switchboard shut down?”
“Tired?” She didn’t look up, just kept searching through her stack.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Switchboard closes at five o’clock unless it’s an emergency.”
“How do you know if it’s an emergency?”
“The phone will ring.”
He popped open his timepiece. Four fifty-five.
“You need to check lines two and six,” she said. “They’ve been plugged in for a while.”
Holding the earpiece to his ear, he pulled back on the key for line two, then six. Nothing. He unplugged them, then stood and stretched. “What are you looking for?”
“An article I saw in last month’s publication. It should have been right on top. Did you look through these while I was gone?”
He lifted the chimney from an oil lamp, then drew a match from her safe. “No, ma’am. I sat in that chair the entire time answering everybody’s calls.”
Pausing in her search, she looked up. “The entire time?”
His detour onto the porch flashed to mind. He struck the match against the seat of his pants, lit the lamp, and replaced the chimney. “What happened when you went to town?”
She returned to her stack. “Bettina decided to sell the nest and eggs to Mr. Ottfried—the wealthiest milliner in town.”
That was it? That couldn’t have caused all the commotion. “What else?”
Resting her hand against the stack of papers, she slowly closed it into a fist. “I saw Mrs. Ottfried.”
He set the lantern on the table beside her. “And?”
She turned her face toward the fireplace, even though no fire burned. Her chin quivered. “You should have seen what she was wearing.”
Frowning, he lowered himself into the easy chair on her left. “What was she wearing?”
“Bird parts.” She choked on the words.
“What kind of bird parts?”
“There was an owl on her hat.”
An owl was a bit extreme, but nothing to warrant her reaction.
“Her cape had swallow wings all along the edge.” She gestured
“I called back and there was no answer,” Miss Honnkernamp replied.
He glanced over his shoulder. The setting sun sliced through the front window and screen, turning Miss Gail’s hair the color of cornsilk. She’d repaired it and her face was pink from a recent scrubbing, but there was no hiding the red nose and puffy eyes.
“I was attending to other calls,” he said into the phone.
“Were you?” Miss Honnkernamp’s voice took on a pout. “I didn’t hear anything on the line.”
Miss Gail crossed to the bookshelves and took out a stack of publications. He’d not had a chance to look through all of them, but he knew the ones on top were from the Audubon Society.
“Hello? Mr. Palmer?”
“Yes, ma’am. Who can I connect you with?” He stayed turned around in the chair, watching Miss Gail sift through the pile. She was clearly looking for something in particular.
“Actually, I was calling to, well . . .”
Ding.
Miss Gail looked up, her eyes going from the board to him. But he couldn’t read her expression, backlit as she was by the fading sun. Could she even see what she was perusing?
“Shouldn’t you light a lantern?” he asked.
“Shouldn’t you answer the phone?” she replied.
“I’m sorry?” Miss Honnkernamp said. “Light a lantern? I’m not sure I heard you right. You sound far away. Are you speaking into the mouthpiece?”
Shifting back around, he adjusted the speaking disc. “There are calls coming in, ma’am. Was there someone you wanted to talk to?”
“Well, I . . . of course,” she snapped. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Schmid at the mercantile, please.”
“One moment.” He checked his list, connected her to number four, then answered the waiting call. When he had everyone settled, he took off the earpiece and twisted around, hooking his arm over the back of the chair.
He wanted to come right out and ask her what was wrong, but truth was, it was none of his business. “When does the switchboard shut down?”
“Tired?” She didn’t look up, just kept searching through her stack.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Switchboard closes at five o’clock unless it’s an emergency.”
“How do you know if it’s an emergency?”
“The phone will ring.”
He popped open his timepiece. Four fifty-five.
“You need to check lines two and six,” she said. “They’ve been plugged in for a while.”
Holding the earpiece to his ear, he pulled back on the key for line two, then six. Nothing. He unplugged them, then stood and stretched. “What are you looking for?”
“An article I saw in last month’s publication. It should have been right on top. Did you look through these while I was gone?”
He lifted the chimney from an oil lamp, then drew a match from her safe. “No, ma’am. I sat in that chair the entire time answering everybody’s calls.”
Pausing in her search, she looked up. “The entire time?”
His detour onto the porch flashed to mind. He struck the match against the seat of his pants, lit the lamp, and replaced the chimney. “What happened when you went to town?”
She returned to her stack. “Bettina decided to sell the nest and eggs to Mr. Ottfried—the wealthiest milliner in town.”
That was it? That couldn’t have caused all the commotion. “What else?”
Resting her hand against the stack of papers, she slowly closed it into a fist. “I saw Mrs. Ottfried.”
He set the lantern on the table beside her. “And?”
She turned her face toward the fireplace, even though no fire burned. Her chin quivered. “You should have seen what she was wearing.”
Frowning, he lowered himself into the easy chair on her left. “What was she wearing?”
“Bird parts.” She choked on the words.
“What kind of bird parts?”
“There was an owl on her hat.”
An owl was a bit extreme, but nothing to warrant her reaction.
“Her cape had swallow wings all along the edge.” She gestured
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