Roma waved a hand. “I’m okay,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“All Eddie’s parts seem to be attached, but I think there might be a two-minute penalty for knocking Roma over,” I said. “Unnecessary roughness.”
I climbed over the dummy and offered a hand to Roma. “You all right?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. Luckily I landed on the part with all the padding.”
Maggie was down on her hands and knees, checking Eddie carefully.
“Anything break?” I asked.
She sat back on her heels. “I don’t think so,” she said. “But one of the shin pads shifted.”
“Not a problem,” Roma said. She walked over to our coats, fished in the pocket of her parka and tossed a roll of duct tape to Maggie.
“You have a roll of duct tape in your pocket, too?” I said.
Roma grinned. “I told you. Duct tape and chocolate will fix pretty much any problem.”
Maggie tore off a couple of pieces of tape and reached up under the dummy’s sock. After a minute she smoothed it down and wiggled the leg. “Better,” she said. She handed me the roll and smiled at Roma. “Thanks.”
I slipped the tape on my arm like a fat bracelet. “Okay, why don’t I grab his shoulders?” I said. “Roma, you take his feet, and, Mags, you direct us.”
I slid my arms around Eddie, holding him in a kind of backward bear hug. With Maggie directing us and watching for swinging arms, we managed to get Eddie in place on the bench. Roma kneeled on the floor, keeping him steady while Maggie fastened Eddie into position. I glanced behind me. I could see Mary and Abigail moving around in the kitchen. The door to the hall swung open and Oren started across the floor toward us.
He smiled when he saw me. “Hello, Kathleen,” he said. “How are you?”
“I’m well, Oren,” I said. “Thanks for coming to let us in.”
He gave a slight shrug. “Thorsten probably just got caught up in the auction and lost track of time. Have you seen Maggie’s pictures?”
“Not yet.”
“Would you like to see photograph of my father?” he asked shyly.
“Yes,” I said. “Where is he?”
We walked over to the wall. Oren scanned the panels, then pointed to a scrum of young men gathered by the edge of the frozen river, probably for a pickup game of hockey. “That’s him on the left.”
I could see the resemblance. Oren’s father had the same fair hair and rangy build. Oren himself always made me think of Clint Eastwood. “You look alike,” I said.
“Everyone says that.”
“Where was the picture taken?”
“You know where the marina is?” he said. “Back then they put out a wooden dock in the summer. In the winter the kids—well, the boys,” he corrected himself, “played hockey. It was long before they made it deeper for the boats, so the ice froze pretty solid.”
I studied the boy in the center of the picture. Like the others, his expression was serious, but there was confidence on his face. I tried to picture time adding lines around the mouth and eyes. I shifted back to Oren’s face. “Is that Harrison Taylor?”
Oren nodded.
“I didn’t know Harry played hockey.”
“Good enough to be invited to the Black Hawks training camp. He helped coach at the high school and junior high.”
That was how Harry knew Agatha, I realized, although in a place as small as Mayville everyone pretty much knew everyone else, anyway.
“These photographs are wonderful,” I said to Oren. “Are there any of you?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t very athletic.”
Oren had been a musical prodigy. He probably hadn’t had much chance to play hockey or softball or anything like that.
I remembered then that Mary and Abigail had wanted to get out the tables.
“Oren, I forgot,” I said. “Mary and Abigail are in the kitchen. Could you let them into the storage room so they could set up the tables?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
He took a couple of steps toward Maggie and Roma. “Maggie, are you all set?” he asked.
Maggie had her foot up on the edge of the bench, knee jammed against Eddie’s back to keep him upright. “I am, Oren,” she said. “Thank you for coming down here. I’m sorry I had to bother you.”
“You didn’t,” he said. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning if you need to get in to do anything.” He smiled at me. “It was good to see you, Kathleen.”
It was my opening. “Oren,” I began slowly.
He turned to face me. “Yes.”
“Yes?” I said.
His smile got a little bigger and he nodded.
“I haven’t asked you anything.”
“You were going to ask if I’d let you put my father’s sculptures on display for the library’s centennial celebrations.”
“How did you know?”
“When you came out to look at the plan for the gazebo for the library, I think you spent more time looking at the sculptures than the plans.”
“People should see his work, Oren,” I said.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m going to need to take some measurements at the loading dock as soon as Winterfest is over. Is that okay?”
“Yes.” I wanted to jump up and down, but I settled for beaming at him.
“I’ll be in to the library as soon as Winterfest is over.”
I nodded, and he headed for the kitchen.
Roma was still sitting on the floor, one hand on Eddie’s thigh, the other on his hip. She looked like a groupie sitting adoringly at the feet of her hockey hero. Maggie was standing on the bench, straddling Eddie.
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
“Could you find me a pair of pliers? I think they’re in that box.” Maggie pointed at one of the cartons that had been in the back of Roma’s SUV.
After I’d handed the pliers to her I wrapped my arms around Eddie to keep him steady so Maggie could have both her hands free. From a distance I probably looked like a groupie, too.
“Why does Eddie smell like Christmas dinner?” I asked.
Roma frowned and pressed her face against Eddie’s chest for a moment. “Kathleen’s right. Eddie smells like stuffing.”
Maggie was bending a piece of wire with the pliers. “It’s sage.”
“And why does Eddie smell like sage?” Roma asked.
“It helps to keep negative energy away from the project.”
Maggie was kind of New Agey about some things. She taught tai chi, believed in the power of karma and had been learning about herbal medicine from my neighbor Rebecca since last summer.
“There,” she said, jumping down off the bench and taking a step backward. “Kathleen, you let go first.”
I slid my arms free and stood up. Eddie stayed in place.
“Okay, Roma,” Maggie said.
Roma stood up, too. Nothing moved. Maggie smiled with satisfaction and started gathering boxes.
“So, will you two be at the Winterfest supper Friday night?” Roma said.
Maggie glanced at me.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Don’t what?” Roma asked.
“Maggie has the insane idea that I should take a date to the supper,” I said.
“A date. Who?”
“Marcus Gordon,” I said. Marcus was a police detective and I’d gotten to know him after I’d stumbled upon a dead body last summer. Not my favorite way to meet new people.
“What’s wrong with Marcus?” Roma asked.
“He likes you,” Maggie interjected.
I crossed my arms and glared at her. “He thought I killed Gregor Easton.”
“You weren’t really a suspect,” Maggie said. “He didn’t arrest you.”
“That was really romantic of him,” I said dryly. I looked at Roma. “Marcus Gordon is not my type.” Even though he was tall, good-looking and liked cats.
“I’m not saying marry him,” Maggie said. “Or kiss him, or even hold his hand. I’m just saying get to know the man.”
She’d been saying that for months.
“Who knows? You might like him.”
“Who knows?” I mimicked her voice. “Pigs might fly.” Roma looked at me and burst out laughing. Maggie followed her eyes and started to shake with the giggles. I tipped my head back slowly because there was no way. No way.