By twelve thirty he hadn’t called and I was getting hungry, so I decided to walk over to Eric’s for some chicken-noodle soup and maybe a big gooey brownie. I’d gotten out of the habit of walking around town and I really did miss it. I almost always met someone I knew and it was fun to see what was on display in the bookstore’s front window or what the latest fashions were at Abel’s Boutique.
Downtown Mayville Heights is laid out more or less like a grid. The streets that run from one end of town to the other all follow the sweep of the shoreline of Lake Pepin, which meant Eric’s was just down the street from the library. The cross streets mostly cut straight up the hill, all the way up to Wild Rose Bluff, where a lot of the stone that was used on many of the older buildings had come from.
When I’d first arrived in town it had taken a while for me to learn my way around, mostly because of the way streets and buildings were named—and sometimes renamed. For instance, Old Main Street followed the shoreline from the Stratton Theatre, past the library and the St. James Hotel all the way to the marina. Main Street continued from the marina to the edge of town, where it joined the highway.
Old Main Street was originally Olde Street, with an E at the end. It had been the main route from the lumber camps to where the marina is now. Over time Olde Street had morphed into Old Main Street. Still, having two Main streets made giving directions to people from out of town very confusing, compounded by the fact that the St. James Hotel had reverted to its original name, the St. James Hotel, after a decade of being just the James Hotel.
Ruby Blackthorne was standing at the counter at Eric’s when I stepped inside, waiting for a take-out order I guessed. There was a heavyset man with her wearing a woolen tweed coat with a striped black-and-maroon scarf knotted loosely at his neck. From the back he looked vaguely familiar.
Like Maggie, Ruby was an artist, albeit a lot more flamboyant. She’d added a streak the color of lime Jell-O to her hair since our last tai chi class and another piercing in her right ear. Ruby was also the current president of the artists’ co-operative and the two of us been working together a lot recently, looking for ways the artists’ co-op and the library could offer programs that would bring in visitors to both places.
Ruby turned as I came up beside her. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said.
I smiled. “Hi.”
“Claire just went to get our order,” she said. “She’ll be right back.” She gestured to the man beside her. “This is my friend Elias Braeden. Elias, this is Kathleen Paulson. She’s our head librarian.”
Elias Braeden offered his hand and as I took it I realized I’d seen him before. He was the man who had come into the library just last week, the man who Leo Janes had thought for a moment looked familiar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kathleen,” he said.
Elias was a bit above average height with broad shoulders and a muscular build evident even under his heavy coat. His hair was a mix of gray and brown, as was his close-cropped mustache. He had piercing dark eyes and a lined, lived-in face.
“Do you remember me telling you that I worked as a singer and dancer at a resort for three summers when I was in art school?” Ruby said.
I nodded. “I remember.” Ruby had shown me photos of herself dead center in a kick line wearing high heels, sequins, a feathered headdress and very little else.
“Elias owned the resort. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He was a friend of my grandfather.”
“Ruby’s very talented,” he said.
“Yes, she is,” I agreed. “She did some wonderful paintings of my cats.”
“So you own Owen and Hercules? Ruby showed me the photos she took of them.”
I nodded. “Actually it’s more like they own me,” I said with a smile.
Claire came out of the kitchen then, carrying a large paper take-out bag.
Before Ruby could move Elias put a hand in front of her. “I suggested lunch,” he said. “This is on me. No arguments.”
“Like arguing with you would be anything other than a waste of time,” Ruby said with an indulgent smile. It was clear she was very fond of the man.
Elias moved to the counter and pulled out his wallet. He had massive hands, like a wide receiver, I noticed.
Ruby turned to me. “Elias is here because he’s thinking of buying the Silver Casino.” The casino was about halfway between Minneapolis and Mayville Heights. “He used to work for my grandfather when I was a little girl. That’s how they got to be friends.”
I nodded. Ruby’s grandfather, Idris Blackthorne, had been the area bootlegger, among other things, and had run an ongoing high-stakes poker game out of a small cabin in the woods close to Wisteria Hill. Given Elias’s size and huge hands, it wasn’t hard to imagine the kind of things he’d probably done for Idris. His presence alone had probably been very intimidating.
Elias rejoined us then, holding the take-out bag.
“Kathleen, Elias is a fan of old buildings,” Ruby said. “Any chance you could give him a tour of the library while he’s here?”
“I’d be happy to.” I smiled at the older man. “But I think you’ve already visited the building. Didn’t I see you come in one day last week?”
“You did,” he said. He had a charming smile, warm and genuine. “I had a bit of time to kill before a meeting but I’d love a tour if you happen to have the time some day.”
“I’d be happy to show you around,” I said. “Please stop in when you have time.”
“I may take you up on that.”
We shook hands. His grip was firm but not overpowering. “It was good to meet you,” I said.
Ruby waved good-bye to Claire. “I’ll see you at class, Kathleen,” she said.
They headed for the door and I moved over to the counter. I could smell Eric’s chicken soup and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.
• • •
Mia walked in for her shift just before four thirty that afternoon. Mary and I were looking at the book drop, which was sticking again, mostly because someone—some delinquent hooligan, as Mary had put it—had jammed about two packages of chewing gum—strawberry flavored based on what we could smell—into the channels for the pull-out door. I was wondering if I should try to dig the gum out myself or just give in to the inevitable and call Harry, when Mary elbowed me.
“Kathleen,” she said, sotto voce.
I turned to see what she was looking at. “Give me a minute,” I said. I brushed off my hands and walked over to the teen. “Mia, you didn’t have to come in today.”
“I wanted to. That’s okay, right?” She looked a little uncertain. One hand played with the zipper pull of her jacket.
“Of course it is,” I said.
Mary joined us. She smiled at Mia. “I have something for you upstairs in the staff room. I found a couple of photos of your grandfather when he was about your age. I thought maybe you’d like to have them.”
Mia nodded and managed a smile. “I would like to have them. Thank you.”
“I’m going to try not to worry and hover,” I said. Beside me Mary made a strangled sound in her throat. I looked at her, narrowing my eyes.
She put one hand on her chest. “It’s dry in here,” she said. “Got a little frog in my throat.”
I turned back to Mia, who was still smiling. “If you need anything I’m going to trust you to ask.”
The phone rang then at the circulation desk. “I’ll get that,” Mary said, bustling across the tile floor.
“There is one thing,” Mia said, ducking her head. “You can say no if you want to.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Would it be too weird? Would you sit with Dad and me at the service on Friday?”
Simon had told me that since Mayville Heights was where Leo had grown up, he and Mia had decided here was where his father should be buried.