Laughing, I said, “No, but I’ll okay your time off if you find someone else to go with you. Or if you decide to go alone.”
“Not as much fun by myself,” she said. “But if it’s that or not go at all . . . hmm. I suppose I could, couldn’t I?”
“If it’s that important to you, absolutely.” How that would play out with her husband, I wasn’t sure, but they’d been married for almost fifty years, so there was a good chance an agreeable resolution could be reached.
“How did it go at the township hall the other day?” Donna asked.
For a moment I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I remembered. “Bookmobile stop is all set. It was so easy to get permission, I wish I’d gone to them in the first place.”
“Well, there’s been some changes there in the last year or so,” Donna said. “It’s probably best you waited.”
Once again, I didn’t understand. “You live in Chilson Township, not Wicklow.”
“I do. But my sister lives over there, and Bill, that’s her husband, used to be on their planning commission, so I hear more than I want to about their goings-on.”
And once again, I had underestimated how easy it was to obtain information when you knew the person to ask. “So what’s the story with the new township hall?”
Donna laughed. “That’s been an issue for ten years, ever since the township bought that property on the highway for far too much money. That’s what Bill says anyway.”
I remembered what Charlotte, the township clerk, had said, that the board was divided on the topic. “The previous township board didn’t want to build?”
“No, they absolutely did, and half of them got voted out last election because of it. The new board is more approachable and more transparent about their decision-making process—the township even updates their website now, if you can believe it—but the word on the street is now that Rowan Bennethum’s gone, the board will vote to build.”
“She had that much influence?” I asked.
Donna shrugged. “All I know is that Hugh Novak and his buddies have been at every meeting the last six months, trying to get this approved, and now that Rowan isn’t there, no one else is speaking up against it. Not everyone liked her, but she was smart and she was respected. Her opinion carried weight with the board.” She smiled faintly. “From the way Bill tells it, there were some heated public comment periods.”
Interesting. I encouraged Donna to apply for the Antarctica trip and headed back to my office, thinking about what she’d said and wondering why Neil had never called me back.
And then I moved Hugh Novak to the top of my suspect list.
Chapter 14
The hardware store’s bells jingled. I shut the door behind me and stomped the snow off my boots and onto the winter entrance mat. From behind the counter, Jared said, “Morning, Minnie.”
Well, some of him was behind the counter. His top half was leaning over it as he paged through a newspaper. The Petoskey News-Review, it looked like. Which must have been an old newspaper, since I was pretty sure there wasn’t a morning newspaper within two hundred miles.
“No, hang on, I’m wrong. It’s afternoon,” he said, glancing up at the wall clock, which had probably hung on the wall for fifty years but was going strong, still advertising Syncro power tools.
“Just barely, though,” I said, smiling. “I won’t mark you down.” Librarians didn’t do that, of course, but many people seemed to blend the roles of teacher and librarian, so I tended to play along. “How are you doing, Jared?”
“Like most days, could be better, could be worse.”
“Most things are relative,” I said. “Even gravity.”
“Gravity?” He narrowed his eyes and thought a minute, then nodded. “It is, isn’t it? Gravity may be constant when we’re down here with our feet on the ground, but if you’re on the moon or Mars or whatever, it’s completely different.”
“Exactly,” I said, beaming at my prize student. “The physical properties that produce gravity are the same no matter where you go—and please don’t ask me what they are because I have no clue—but its strength varies depending on where you are.” I was pretty sure I’d read there was a detectable difference in the strength of gravity between sea level and the tops of mountains, but I couldn’t remember the source, so I kept quiet since I didn’t want to spread science misinformation.
Jared flopped the newspaper shut. “What can I do for you, Minnie? Ready to order your cabinet hardware?”
“Yes, I am.” Rafe had promised if I made a final decision this week that he would read one fiction book of my choosing from cover to cover in less than a month. I put up my chin and squared my shoulders. “Lead me to the catalogs. I’m ready.” Sort of. I’d done some of the hardware homework Jared had assigned, but what I mostly knew was what I didn’t like.
He studied me. “You look like you’re about to face a firing squad. This kind of thing is fun for most people.”
I slumped a bit. “Once again I’m different from everybody else,” I said gloomily.
“No, I get it. The problem is information overload. Too many choices. How about this? We’ll work it like a flow chart, making one decision at a time, and at the end you’ll have exactly what you want.”
“But that’s the problem. I don’t know what I want.” I was horrified to hear my voice shake. “Sorry, I just . . .”
“Don’t worry,” Jared said. “You’re just nervous about making the wrong decision. It happens a lot in the construction business.” He laughed. “One of the reasons I got out of it. Loved the work, but it got so I couldn’t deal with the customers.”
“And now you’re saddled with me.” I tried to smile, to make a joke out of it. Didn’t work.
“Hah. You’re nothing compared to some of those folks. Maybe someday I’ll tell you about Crazy Larry.” Jared tossed the newspaper under the counter. “Come on back. This will be fun.”
And despite my trepidations, it actually was. Jared held my figurative hand all the way through the process, and at the end I was almost giddy with happiness over the final choice: brushed nickel, with oval knobs for the doors and drawer pulls that looked like what had been on the old card catalog drawers in my elementary school library. I’d toyed with the idea of Petoskey stones for the knobs, but figured those would be better in a bathroom.
“Take some pictures,” Jared suggested, “and send them to Rafe.”
I did so and an instant later got a return text: What book?
Smiling, I texted back: Moby Dick
Rafe, after a long pause, sent: Kidding?
I texted back with: Yes. You’ll enjoy War and Peace far more, and quickly put away my phone. It was tempting to send a text to Kristen, telling her I’d finally triumphed over the hardware conundrum, but at this time of day she was probably in the middle of a run through the Key West heat and I didn’t want to distract her. “Thanks so much for all your help, Jared. I couldn’t have done it without you.” I smiled. “Maybe you should get into kitchen design.”
“Not a chance. I’d rather pull off my fingernails with a pair of needle-nose pliers,” he said, but then looked off into the distance, as if he might be considering it.
I started to get up, then sat down again. There had been two reasons I’d stopped by the store. “Last time I was in, a couple of weeks ago, we talked a little about Bax Tousely and the account with the City of Chilson. Is that . . . did that turn out okay for you?”
It was an awkward question, awkwardly phrased, but I hadn’t been able to figure out a better way to ask. Luckily, Jared either didn’t feel the awkwardness or paid no attention to it.