Clock and Dagger Read online

  The second caveat was personal. I wanted to rebuild the clock tower. During World War II, the clock tower’s inner workings had been taken out and melted down to support the war effort. In the early ’50s, as they were replacing the weights, cogs, and gears, a spark from a welder’s torch caused a fire. At least that was the story everyone was told. My grandfather always hinted that it was something more nefarious—attempted arson. Thankfully, the fire was contained quickly, and the tower structure remained solid. The work to replace the clock itself was deferred over and over again, despite the fact that the Clagan family volunteered to maintain it once built. Small-town politics, petty grievances, and good old-fashioned New England orneriness didn’t help discussions over the years. Still, my grandfather always dreamed of rebuilding the clock tower and had been working with Grover Winter to make it a reality. Then both men died within a year of each other. Now it was on me to see that the dream moved forward. Having decided to move to Orchard from Boston to take over my grandfather’s business after my divorce was finalized, I was more than up for the task. I just hadn’t expected the town manager to be such a barrier.

  “What happens if you can’t deal with them?” Ben asked.

  “Then I own the building and all that entails, including having to pay the operating expenses.”

  “Would that be so bad?” Ben asked.

  “I am trying to figure out how to keep the Cog & Sprocket open, never mind the local white elephant. Insurance costs alone would wipe out all my savings. Running a building—not my area of expertise.”

  “Any chance that Harris University can help out? You mentioned that they were interested in renting some of the space.”

  “They are interested, and willing to pitch in a bit for repairs. But not until their new fiscal year starts.”

  “In January?”

  “In July,” I sighed. My ex-husband was on the faculty of a small college back in Boston, so I understood the glacial pace of decision-making for colleges. Still, it was disappointing when that avenue was blocked.

  “Ruth, if anyone can figure it out, you can. I have total faith. Let me know what I can do to help,” he said, giving me a quick sideways look as we paused at a stop sign.

  “Thanks, Ben. That means so much to me. You’re already doing a lot, being chairman of the board of the Clock Tower Fund. I’m not sure how G.T. talked you into that,” I said, hitting him gently on the arm. “I still can’t believe there’s even a fund.” G.T. was my nickname for my grandfather, short for Grandpa Thom.

  “Thom’s passion for the clock tower was contagious. I loved talking to him about it and learning what the work would entail. Besides, I like the community aspect of the project. After Grover died, it made sense for me to take over. I’m glad you’re keeping it going.”

  “I’m glad we’re both keeping it going. The Board of Selectmen is requiring a report at the next town meeting, this Friday. Are you ready for that?”

  “Yes, we’ll be ready,” Ben said. “This is a house of cards right now. We’ve got one grant if we can match the funding, so we need to raise the money to do that. Jimmy Murphy was trying to get us more time for that deadline. The tower fund doesn’t have nearly enough in it, but we’re working on it, as you know. If the town kicks in for part, it will put us over the amount we need.”

  “Lots of ifs.”

  “Again, I’m just going to say it. In Ruth Clagan I trust.” Ben reached over and patted my knee, then he went back to driving.

  I glanced over at Ben, studying his profile as his eyes remained steadily on the road. He was handsome. I’d noticed that the first time we met. But what made him even more attractive? He was a really nice guy. I kept waiting for him to do something that dissuaded me from that opinion, but so far, he’d proven himself to be a good neighbor and wonderful friend. Sometimes I hoped for more, but the ink on my divorce papers was barely dry, my business was taking over every waking moment, and I was still getting used to having a stepgrandmother in my life. Besides, Bezel could be very needy. Friend was good, for now.

  I looked back at the pile of papers in my lap and continued working on the master list for the party store.

  “Is it tacky if I use the same napkins for all of the events?” I asked Ben, chewing on my pen cap absently.

  “Ruth, I’m not the guy to ask.”

  “Channel your aunt Flo. What would she say?”

  Ben laughed. “Aunt Flo would tell you to get the same for all the parties, no doubt. She’s a frugal Yankee, through and through. What colors did you all decide on for the Orchard Loyalty card?”

  “Green and purple. And it’s called the Program for Orchard Loyalty, POL for short. Get your acronyms straight.” POL, the new business association for the businesses that made up downtown Orchard, had decided on a loyalty card so that we could support one another through the winter. Buy the featured local foodstuff at the Corner Market, get a free refill at the Sleeping Latte. Buy five coffees in one week at the Sleeping Latte, get a special gift at Ben’s Barbershop. Show the card at the library and get a POL tote bag and an extra DVD rental. The hardware store was offering an amaryllis bulb kit with a purchase of twenty-five dollars. Go to all five shops, including the library, featured on the card, and get a free watch battery replacement at the Cog & Sprocket. The program was only good through April 1, and the hope was that it would encourage folks to pull on their boots, bundle up the kids, and come to town during the winter months.

  “The barbershop is on the card, by the way. Your aunt Flo approved it.”

  “Don’t I know it? Wait till you see what we came up with. It’s genius,” he said excitedly. “Hair product samples and a half-price haircut. With a little Flo magic in the mix—the packaging she came up with is a hoot.”

  “Your aunt Flo is a hoot,” I said, smiling at the thought of the compact burst of energy that was Flo Parker. She’d moved back to Orchard to help Ben with his shop, and her effervescent energy pulled us all out of a dark time. She wore clothes that few others would dare to sport, even women half her age. Never mind that she wore them a couple of sizes too small. Still, somehow, zebra-print pants with floral-print shirts, or red pleather pants with a pink ruffled shirt worked. Flo often added hair extensions in coordinating colors that she teased into her trademark updo. Just thinking about her made me smile. “Those prizes sound great.”

  “The whole program is terrific. Everyone in downtown Orchard is on the card, except Beckett. I know you tried to talk him into it.”

  “Many times. I almost had Rina convinced, but Beckett wouldn’t budge.” Rina Sanske was a bit of an enigma. I surmised that she was Beckett’s business partner, but neither of them had confirmed that. I did know that she went out of her way to smooth the feathers he ruffled, though lately even her best intentions couldn’t keep up. “His loss. Anyway, the colors are purple and green. I guess those could be the colors for the decorations. That way we can use the extras for the events we are going to plan for this winter.”

  “You are really sweating the details of tonight, aren’t you?”

  “It’s the first time anyone has seen the Cog & Sprocket since we closed on November first. I want to make sure we make a good impression.”

  “You’ve already made a great impression,” Ben said, smiling over at me with that contagious grin of his. I smiled back and then looked out the window. So far the winter had been snowless, which was not ordinary for this time of year. The bleak landscape rolled by, still charming, but a bit foreboding. Green and purple would brighten things up considerably.

  “Did you ever decide where to hold the rest of the classes this winter?” Ben asked. “I’m glad you’re doing them, by the way. I’m really looking forward to the next one.”

  “I appreciated you coming to the test class,” I said. My grandmother had held salons in the shop back in the ’60s. As an homage, and because there was some interest in learning more about the clock collections in the shop, I’d offered to do a talk at the library.
The audience overflowed the room, and I got talked into teaching a few more classes about clocks. “Something for folks to look forward to this winter,” Aunt Flo had said.

  “Hey, I’ll admit, I was only there to offer support at first. But who knew that the history of the Willard family, and the banjo clock, would be so fascinating? Are you going to try and have the next one in the shop?”

  “That was the first plan, but we already have a dozen people signed up for the Winding an Eight-Day Clock workshop. Moira offered to have it at the Sleeping Latte, but I hate for her to have to stay open late, even if it is only one night a month.” Moira Reed owned the Sleeping Latte, the local coffee shop and café. She and I had been friends as kids, and we’d picked right up where we’d left off when I moved back to Orchard.

  “It’s genius. The lectures are fun, it gets people interested in clocks, and it’s a great social event. It’s a shame that you can’t keep using the library.”

  “Mac Clark came to me about adding a food and wine component, which made a ton of sense both to attract people and to showcase the Corner Market’s wares.” Mac and Ada Clark owned the Corner Market, the local grocery store. Unlike the previous owner, Mac’s cranky uncle, Mac and Ada thought of the Corner Market as more than just a place to get milk and eggs. They considered it a front for good food and took their job of supporting local businesses and agriculture very seriously. I was more than happy to work with Mac on his idea, even if it meant moving the classes out of the library.

  “Maybe we could do one in the barbershop?” Ben asked.

  “Maybe,” I said, noncommittally. Ben’s Barbershop was as close to failing as any business in Orchard, but Aunt Flo had some ideas to help him turn it around. I was fairly certain her ideas did not include clock classes. “Anyway, I’m going to figure it out, after the New Year.” I turned down the heat on my seat and continued to look out the window at the trees and frost-tipped grass disappearing past us. Marytown was only ten miles east, but the roads had lots of curves and more than a few speed traps.

  “Which is officially Sunday. Can you believe it?” Ben asked, as if he could barely believe it himself.

  “Don’t remind me. This week is packed. I’m glad it’s only Tuesday, but what a Tuesday it’s going to be. I thought we were more prepared—this list is crazy.”

  “Christmas derailed things a bit, for good reason. It was nice to spend a few days relaxing, don’t you think?”

  “It was,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I had so much to do over the holidays. My ex-husband and I used to go away to Mexico for Christmas. More traditional activities and just spending time with family and friends was great.”

  “You don’t get much more traditional than the holidays in Orchard. Just be glad that Aunt Flo didn’t drag you caroling. Next year you won’t get off so easy. Now, back to your list. We’ll get it done. This is a group effort, and it is quite a group. By the way, do you need anything at the hardware store? Aunt Flo gave me her own list.”

  “No, Flo checked in with me already. Anything I need is on her list, which, I’m sure, is completely organized. Mine, not so much, but I’ll wing it.”

  “I have faith that it will be perfect, as always.” Ben Clover was a wicked flirt. Maybe one of my New Year’s resolutions should be to start flirting back.

  “I wish I’d had a chance to run it by Caroline one more time,” I said, clearing my throat and changing the subject.

  “Where is she, anyway?”

  “She’s been flat out trying to learn how to use the online store that Nadia set up. She wants to be ready to show it off tonight.”

  “Nadia as a teacher. Can’t say as I can picture that.”

  “Caroline gets along really well with her. She gets along well with the three of them, actually.” I’d hired Nadia Wint in November, right after I’d decided to stay in Orchard. I’d posted the job at Harris University, hoping to find someone who had both marketing expertise and tech savvy, since part one of my business strategy for the Cog & Sprocket was to get us online. Nadia had both of the skills I wanted, and more that I didn’t even know I needed. She’d talked me into hiring her boyfriend, Tuck Powers, to help with some of the photography and digital work. Another good move, especially since Tuck posted the job opening we had for a watchmaker on his Facebook page, and a high school friend, Mark Pine, had applied. Three new employees within a month. It had been a leap, but it had worked out well. For the most part.

  I knew people like Nadia and Tuck from my days being a faculty wife. Very smart, hip, trendy, and too cool for school. I used to understand them a little better. Now Nadia and Tuck made me feel old. It didn’t help that Tuck called me ma’am. Nadia called me Ms. Clagan. They both had a little edge in their voice, like they were bored at even having to speak with me. But their work was good, and I needed to keep a little distance as their employer. Still, it was exhausting. I felt older than my thirty years.

  “I’m thrilled with the new website. Once it goes live, I know it is going to be terrific for business.”

  “You’ve made some great improvements,” Ben said. “Thom would be proud.”

  My grandfather had inherited the shop from his father, who had inherited it from his father. My father got skipped. He had no interest in horology and no talent for clocks. The family legacy weighed on me as I rethought how to run the business or picked a new color for the walls. I knew my grandfather wouldn’t have loved some of the changes, but I still wished he could be there to see them. “I hope so,” I said.

  “We’re here,” Ben said, pulling up to the curb in front of the party store. Marytown didn’t have the building restrictions that Orchard had, and a few chain stores had moved in. Ironically, this party store was one of the most successful. Maybe it was because of the college population. Or maybe it was because it was the store that supplied color-coordinated party goods, including Mardi Gras beads in every color. “I’ll call you when I am on my way back from my errands. Is that okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  Now, what did I need to pull off four parties in five days?

  chapter 2

  I grabbed a shopping cart and stepped into the store. Green and purple helped limit my choices, but not by much. Plates, napkins, cups, cutlery, decorations, tablecloths—all available in a variety of hues. I was good at throwing parties. My skills were honed after five years as the wife of an ambitious faculty member. We hosted a lot of gatherings, and I’d become adept at planning. But four parties was pushing it, even for me.

  I was excited about tonight, and rolling out the Program for Orchard Loyalty. Truth to tell, the POL card had been my idea. The town had come together to support me after my grandfather was killed. And I’d come to understand the role G.T. had played in town, and that I was expected to take on in his stead. His widow, Caroline Adler, had shown no interest in becoming the public face of the Cog & Sprocket, so I’d stepped in. The best part was, I’d come to really like my fellow business owners. All except Beckett Green.

  I’d tried to like Beckett and to bring him into the fold. Even though I was the new owner of the Cog & Sprocket, the Clagan family had lived in Orchard for over a century. The Clark family had owned the Corner Market for the past fifty years. Mac and Ada were vast improvements over Mac’s uncle Matt, and were part of the new energy people were bringing to the businesses downtown. Ben Clover was new to Orchard, but his aunt Flo was a beloved citizen. She’d recently moved back to help Ben and to reopen Parker’s Emporium, an old-fashioned drugstore in the same building as the barbershop. Like the Cog & Sprocket, Parker’s had been closed for renovations, but was opening for business January 2. Tonight it would be open for visitors, in lieu of the barbershop. But everyone knew that Ben’s barbershop and Flo’s drugstore were interchangeable for all intents and purposes, since Ben and Flo were family. Family histories were woven into the fabric of Orchard, and newcomers weren’t always welcome. Which is why I’d gone out of my way to welcome Beckett Green, as much good
as it did me.

  Beckett had bought the old bank right across the street from the Cog & Sprocket, next door to the Town Hall. Apparently the purchase had been on a whim, done when Beckett’s GPS sent him through town after a trip to Tanglewood last summer. He’d decided to make the old bank into a bookstore, calling it Been There, Read That. He told everyone that he was semiretired and this was his new hobby. It sounded great, until Beckett’s plans started to steamroll the town right before Thanksgiving. Even though he forced Jeff Paisley to ticket the parking violators, he petitioned to have three spots on the street dedicated to his shop. He also filed papers to have a coffee shop in the bookstore, even though the Sleeping Latte was practically across the street. The parking spaces and the coffee shop were voted down by the Board of Selectmen at the last town meeting after a raucous discussion. Beckett hadn’t taken the rejection well, and once more Rina tried to smooth things over.

  Rina was a bit of a mystery to me, the biggest mystery being what she saw in Beckett. Beckett was average height, average build. His features were plain—he’d never be handsome, but he wasn’t unpleasant to look at either. His best feature was his eyes, which were a deep green, unlike any eyes I’d ever seen. Nancy Reed was convinced that he wore colored contact lenses.

  Rina was short, but she still filled a room when she walked into it. Her dark black hair had been dyed blue at the ends and cut into a perfect long bob that moved like silk when she walked. Her clothes were expensive and on the cutting edge of fashion. Most of the people I knew wore shades of blue and gray, or all-out black, in the winter, so Rina’s bright red coat made her stand out, but she didn’t need that prop. She naturally drew everyone’s eyes to her. She was always waving at people during her daily run. She stopped by the Sleeping Latte every morning for her grande skim latte with an extra shot. From the look of her, the latte was her only indulgence.