Chime and Punishment Page 5

  “Good morning, Kim,” I said.

  “What time do you need me at this signing thing?” she said without preamble. The ever-politic politician.

  Kim Gray had been hired to be the town manager at the behest of the late Grover Winter, town benefactor and longtime member of the Board of Selectmen. He’d been the symbolic mayor for years, but as he grew older, he recognized the need for someone to come in and run things. Grover died before the full disaster of Kim Gray’s being here had been realized. More’s the pity. He could have made changes. I didn’t know him well, but he and my grandfather had been great friends, and of like minds. I knew G.T.’s feelings about Kim, thanks to notes in his diary. They were cryptic, but I understood them, especially after Ben filled me in on what had been going on. Being G.T.’s granddaughter, I was marked as an enemy by Kim right off the bat. I’d stopped trying to change her mind, but did go out of my way not to aggravate her.

  “It starts at noon. Your speech will be at twelve fifteen if we stick to the schedule. Could you be out behind the Town Hall at eleven thirty for—”

  “I have meetings right up till noon. I may be a little late.”

  “That’s a shame. I’m sure Nadia asked you to be there early for some press photos.”

  “Press photos?” Her voice perked up and I could picture her preening. Preening was one of the few things she did well.

  “We have those reporters coming in from the Eagle. You’ve got a headshot, right? Maybe they can add you in later? I’ll ask Nancy to hold up a broom or something and pretend it’s you.”

  “Nancy is going to be there?”

  “Of course. The entire Board of Selectmen is going to be there. So is Chief Paisley, and Jimmy Murphy, and . . .”

  “The Judas brigade.”

  “Judas brigade?” Kim’s paranoia was in full bloom today. She’d be a real joy to be around.

  “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. The board tried to get me fired, but they came up short on the vote. A secret ballot, but I know who voted which way. Jimmy Murphy didn’t count on my friends standing by me.”

  “Friends?” I asked.

  “Yes, I do have friends, you know. Beckett Green, for one.”

  Did Beckett switch his allegiance again? I wondered. I would have thought he would have learned his lesson well over the New Year, but with Beckett you couldn’t really tell. He was never going to get voted onto the board if he kept siding with Kim.

  “And Harriet Wimsey always has my back,” Kim continued.

  The town librarian had to fight tooth and nail for every penny of her budget and blamed Kim for every broken computer and every book they couldn’t buy. Privately. But as a member of the Board of Selectman, and the keeper of Grover Winter’s memory in many ways, Harriet publicly supported Kim. She assumed that Kim had Orchard’s best interests at heart. I wasn’t convinced, but then again, I was Thom Clagan’s granddaughter. That impacted my perception of Kim, and Kim’s perception of me. My grandfather hadn’t been a fan.

  “Well, water under the bridge. Right, Kim?” I said, forcing a lightness in my tone that I didn’t feel. I wasn’t going to let Kim get to me—not today. “I’ll tell Nadia you aren’t going to make the press conference.”

  “Of course I’ll make the press conference,” Kim snapped. “Eleven thirty?”

  “At the Town Hall. Out on the back portico. We’re using it as a staging area. You’ll be able to—”

  “What-ev-er. I’ll be there. Don’t start without me.”

  Would that I could, Kim. Would that I could.

  I stared down at my phone, watching her image disappear from the screen as the phone disconnected. It wasn’t Kim’s curly brown hair, brown eyes, and porcelain visage on the screen. Instead it was a picture of the Wicked Witch of the West. Nadia had added it. I lived in fear of Kim discovering it, but couldn’t bear to change it. The caricature was too fitting.

  Then the bells chimed, and I broke into a smile when I saw my other boyfriend coming through the front door.

  “Jack,” I said, shoving my phone in my pocket and opening my arms wide. Jack, born John Thomas six months ago, broke into a wide grin and didn’t complain when his mother handed him off to me. “How are you, my darling?” I asked.

  I had always liked children, but I’d never been baby crazy. This little guy changed all that. Maybe it was because he’d been named Thomas for my grandfather. Or because he was such a good-natured baby from the outset, coming on to the scene when we all desperately needed something wonderful to take our minds off the terrible events of October and December. But I suspected the thing that cemented our relationship was that we spent so much time together.

  Jack’s parents were small-business owners, just like the rest of us. Ada took some time off when Jack was born, and Nancy helped out at the Corner Market. When Ada came back after a few weeks, she carried Jack in a sling, nestled tight to her chest as she rang up customers or restocked shelves. But once Jack hit three months, that didn’t work anymore. Jack was a social baby and enjoyed sitting in his bouncy seat, talking to the world in between his naps. That didn’t fly in a grocery store, but it was fine in a clock shop. Or more precisely, a clock shop office.

  Nadia was as crazy about Jack as I was. We talked it over, and I agreed to let her babysit him at the shop, as long as she kept up with her work for me. Bezel had decided that Jack was her own private playmate and was surprisingly gentle with the baby. She was even able to lightly bounce the chair when it had ceased and he was getting cranky. The only person who objected to the arrangement was Pat Reed.

  “This is a business, not a day care center,” he’d said dubiously, eyeing the package of diapers we kept on top of a cabinet in the office.

  “It is a community,” I said, “and we have to help each other out. What other options do Ada and Mac have? Especially now that Nancy’s on the Board of Selectmen and can’t work as many hours for the Clarks.”

  “She isn’t even getting paid to be on the board,” Pat grumbled.

  “No, she isn’t. But boy, how glad am I that she and Jimmy Murphy are able to team up and keep Kim at bay.”

  “Tuck Powers could take care of Jack,” Pat said.

  “Tuck Powers? I wouldn’t trust Tuck Powers to take care of a goldfish,” I whispered to Pat. At that point Nadia and Tuck were still dating, and I didn’t want to upset her.

  “Freddie . . .”

  “Freddie? Freddie can’t load the dishwasher without breaking something. No, my friend, you know that Nadia is the best choice, with us as backup. The Cog & Sprocket is close enough for Ada to come over and feed him, and they can chiefly stay upstairs.”

  Pat always grumbled, but I’d found him upstairs more than once, sitting in one of G.T.’s old chairs, rocking Jack. He’d quickly fallen to the wee one’s charms.

  “Jack loves you,” Ada said, handing me a drool rag.

  “The feeling is mutual,” I said, kissing his bald head. “How are his parents doing today?”

  “Tired, but what else is new?” Mac said. “Excited about today.”

  “It is going to be great,” Ada said. “Mac and I are heading over soon to set up the beverage stand.”

  “Thanks again for doing that,” I said. “It is really generous of you to donate the drinks for today.”

  “Listen, our vendors are the ones doing the donating. We’re only throwing in the ice and cups. Beckett is also giving away more water bottles for folks who’d rather use those,” Ada said.

  “He’s not going to be happy until everyone has a water bottle with ‘Been There, Read That’ on it,” Mac said.

  “I’ve got three. One for home, one for the car, one for the store. I wish they weren’t quite so perfect,” Ada said wistfully. “The right size. Dishwasher safe. Free of chemicals.”

  “Plus, they fit into the whole O
rchard-going-green thing,” I said. “It’s nice of him to provide them to the folks at the party.”

  “Ever the diplomat, Ruth,” Mac said. “Everyone is happy to be part of this. It’s the event of the season.”

  “Well, the event of the week,” Ada said. “The event of the season will be the Winding Ceremony June twenty-first.”

  “I still can’t believe I let Nadia talk me into scheduling these two events so close together,” I said, jiggling Jack a little in my arms.

  “Nadia didn’t talk you into anything,” the woman herself said, coming down the stairs from the office. “The bank account talked you into it. We needed to make today happen so we could financially get over the finish line.”

  “You are a mad genius,” I said. She shot me a “whatever” look and shrugged her shoulders a hair. I watched as she caught Jack’s eye, and her face broke into a grin. He squirmed in my arms, and I relinquished the warm little bundle to her.

  “Ruth’s right, you know,” Mac said. “You are really good at thinking—”

  “Big. She thinks big,” I said.

  Nadia had started working for me late last fall. I’d let her run with some ideas for our reopening, and they’d taken off. Our business wasn’t bust-the-door-down busy, but it was getting more robust. Clocks were getting sold at a decent pace, though the cash flow wasn’t what I wanted, or needed. I hoped that Nadia’s marketing of the clock tower opening helped with that. She assured me that our website had a lot of visitors. Nadia told me that my “Ruth’s Clock Talks” had become a modest Internet sensation.

  “I think differently,” she said, looking me straight in the eye. “You’re the one who thinks big. You’re the one who wanted to get this clock tower working. I’m just trying to help make it happen.”

  “It is a team effort,” I said, embarrassed. Mac reached over and gave my shoulder a squeeze. Our families had been feuding for years, and though we were working to bury the hatchet, this was still as close to a hug as the Clarks and Clagans got.

  “Warm moment over,” Nadia said, knowing the history. “Is Jack good to go?”

  “Fed and changed,” Ada said.

  “Well, I’ll check on the changed part before I bring him over. Is the baby carrier in the bag?” Nadia asked.

  “Yes, but he really doesn’t like it,” Ada said.

  “Ada, he and I have an agreement. Today he gets carried facing out, and charms everyone. We still have a few hundred dollars to raise, and Jack is our secret weapon. He’ll be fine. If not, Caroline will bring him back here. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Well, we need to get moving,” Mac said. Ada reached out and took Jack’s hand, bringing it to her lips for a gentle kiss. “We’ll see you over there in a few minutes.”

  I looked up at the banjo clock on the wall. It was one of my favorites, with a winter scene of Orchard painted on the glass door at the bottom. My grandmother had touched up the painting years ago and I’d watched her. Those memories helped make the clock my touchstone. For the first time this morning it seemed like those hands were finally moving. Time to go and get ready for the big event.

  chapter 6

  Nadia brought Jack to her office on the third floor. I took a minute to plug in my phone and turned to go upstairs, but then the back door started rattling. I ran back and peered through the blinds that covered the window. Zane Phillips stared back. I took a breath before I opened the door. The scars on his face were still a shock, even though I’d seen them daily for months now. They gave him a sinister look, which was belied by everything else about the gentle craftsman. When I’d first heard about how he got the scars—he built a clock made out of knives and got too close to the swinging machete—I’d thought that was a crazy idea. “Not crazy,” he’d said. “Just underdeveloped. I still think I could have corrected the balance. But they took it apart after the accident.” Now it was all I could do not to ask him about the design and offer to help him build it again. He and I were both big clock dreamers.

  “Zane, shouldn’t you be over at the tower?” I asked.

  “On my way,” he said. “Just wanted to visit the facilities and clean up a bit.”

  “Is this her?” I asked, pointing to the large package he carried under his arm. It was wrapped in a sheet, was about two feet long, and looked heavy.

  “It is. Show folks what we’re working toward. That’s another reason I came by. I didn’t want to surprise you in case it’s not what you had in mind.”

  He walked over to one of the empty worktables and proceeded to unwrap the figure. I didn’t try to help, or to rush him, even though time was ticking. Zane worked on his own internal clock.

  He stepped in front of the figure before it was fully unwrapped, partially blocking me from the view until he was ready. He used one end of the sheet to buff the figure a bit and then stepped aside. I felt my mouth open, but no sound came out.

  “It’s your grandma Mae,” he said.

  “The spitting image,” I whispered, feeling tears prick at my eyes. I didn’t try and stop them. “It’s wonderful.”

  “Course you had to know Mae to know this is her. But I’m glad you see the likeness. The final product will be about six times bigger than this. There’ll be more details, but I want those to be a surprise.”

  The figure was carved and had been stained rather than painted. Only a few details stood out—the winding bun on the top of her head, the roses that covered her dress, the pearls that she wore around her neck. If someone asked me to describe her, these are the three things I would have mentioned. The blue-gray of the hair, pink in the roses, white of the pearls—those were bright splotches of color on the wood. Zane had used stains to highlight aspects of the figure, show the details of some of the carving. The figure was unique, and I loved it. I ran my finger along the apron and smiled at Zane.

  “She’ll be the first one out of the door every hour. She will do a little spin, then the rest will come out and spin. I’d say ‘dance,’ but they’ve got nothing to dance to,” Zane said, flicking an invisible speck of dust off the statue’s hair.

  “The bell will be ringing. We aren’t going to have this fight again,” I said. “The dancing will be plenty entertaining—”

  “Entertaining,” he scoffed as he dusted another invisible speck of something from the pristine figure.

  “And historically accurate. You’ve seen the old drawings and heard that recording that Harriet found. One bell.”

  “The old clock tower had one big bell. It had gravitas. This one’s pitiful.”

  “This bell is plenty big. A little lopsided, but that’s why we got it donated. Don’t look at me like that. The big bell has been value engineered out for now. We’ve had this argument a dozen times already. We can’t afford the really big bell.”

  “It is going to be a mite quiet,” he said, grumbling.

  “It is,” I agreed. “But I’ll bet at three in the morning it will be plenty loud enough. Anyway, we’re never going to agree on the bell.”

  “I’d love to see a full carillon,” Zane said. “Something worthy of the amazing clock we are building.”

  “Zane—” I said.

  “Fine. I’m done. For today.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Truthfully, I agreed with him. But I had to be practical. No matter how I stretched, it wasn’t in the budget. I looked over at the figure of my grandmother and stroked the side of its face.

  “I love this. Her,” I said.

  Zane beamed. “You think it is a good likeness?”

  “I do. I love the colors. How did you do that?”

  “I thought about painting them, but that would be too much upkeep. But we needed some color, so I did a paint/stain technique I developed, and then I added some stain and lots of varnish. I tested some pieces outside this winter, and they held up. Running more tests this week, under different conditions. We
want to find the best possible solution. Eventually we’ll probably want to make duplicates so we can switch them out. These should work for a while, at least, though.”

  I walked over and gave Zane a big hug. He hesitated, but then hugged me back. I leaned back and put both my hands on the side of his wonderful face. “You are a good man, Zane Phillips. I feel G.T. looking down and smiling right now, don’t you?”

  “He’d be popping his top button, he’d be so proud of you.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so,” he said, letting go of me. “Now, you leave me be for a minute. I need to put on a clean shirt and try to remember how to tie a tie.”

  “You’re wearing a tie?” I said.

  “I am. I always wear a tie at important events. How about you?”

  “I’m not going to wear a tie,” I said. “But I am going to wear a dress. I know, shocking. In fact, I need to get a move on.” I walked back to the staircase and turned back to look at Zane, my foot resting on the bottom step. “She’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  Zane laid out the sheet and prepared to wrap her back up. I’d ask him later if I could keep her in the shop. I’d love to have my grandmother back where she belonged.

  • • •

  The staircase up to the second floor of the Cog & Sprocket was very wide, and gently sloped. Perfect for carrying clocks up and down for storage and repair. My little apartment had been part guest quarters, part storage facility when I moved in. Reconfiguring the space to include a wide hallway with banks of storage had cut into the living space, but added to the homeyness of my nest. The door to my apartment was slightly ajar, and I walked in.

  Nadia was over by the stove, heating up some water so she could prepare Jack’s bottle. The little man himself was sitting in his bouncy chair on the floor. I’d picked the chair up at a yard sale and was disappointed, but not surprised, that the electric bouncer didn’t work, despite my best attempts at fixing it. I needn’t have worried. Bezel served as sentry, and Jack was fascinated by her soft fur and pointy ears. Her patience with the baby was remarkable, and exclusionary. She held the rest of the world in slight disdain, though as her chief food deliverer and litter box scooper she gave me occasional love rubs. She also was the best listener I knew, and helped me talk through complicated business and life decisions.