Angel Lane (10 page)

Betty frowned. “Of course. I understand.”

And she did, which made Sarah feel guilty. “Bring some in to the bakery. We'll take a coffee break and the coffee will be on me.” And that would be her good deed for the day.

Betty smiled like they were now best friends. “Great idea. I'm sure I'll find them right after you leave.”

“Isn't that how it always goes?” Sarah said, edging toward the door.

“I just had them.” Betty was scrabbling through another pile of papers now.

“I'm sure you'll find them. See you soon.” Sarah opened the door and fled.

The rest of the neighbors didn't take long since most of them weren't home from work yet. (So much for the personal invitation.) Only a couple of houses left. And one of them belonged to their new neighbor, Leo Steele. Maybe she could just overlook him. Or not ring the doorbell and leave a flyer on his front porch. Good idea. That was what she'd do.

But when she got to the porch, the front door opened and
there he stood, chewing on his cigar and smiling at her. “I saw you coming.”

“Oh. Well.”

“You giving away coupons for free coffee cake? If you are, I'll take a handful. That was the best thing I've had in a long time.”

If that was a hint for more coffee cake, she wasn't taking it. “Just an announcement for a little movement we're starting to make Heart Lake friendlier.”

“It already seems pretty friendly to me,” he said. His grin made Sarah think of lounge lizards. He took the flyer and perused it. “I might just have to check it out. Will you be there?”

“I'm one of the organizers.”

“Well, then, I'll come. Thanks for thinking of me, Sarah.”

“You and the whole block,” she said, keeping her voice light. She motioned to the empty street as if someone were waiting for her. “I'd better be going.”

He gave her a friendly salute. “See you at the meeting.”

She hoped not. Maybe he'd forget.

 

Emma closed up shop at four on Tuesday so she could get home before dark to invite her neighbors to the big meeting the next night, but other than Mrs. Nitz, who couldn't hear the doorbell over her blaring TV, no one appeared to be home.

Don't give up, she told herself, and marched up to a two-story yellow Victorian.

There she actually found someone—a woman about her age with a three-year-old girl peeking behind her.

“That sounds great,” said the woman, taking the flyer. “My husband works nights, so I don't have anyone to watch our daughter.”

“Bring her,” Emma urged. “We'll have cookies.” She'd pick some up at Safeway tomorrow.

The woman smiled. “Thanks.”

Emma smiled, too. Passing out flyers had been a good idea.

She was starting back down the front walk, still saying goodbye, when a German shepherd came trotting toward her. The greeting committee. Where had he come from? Emma was about to bend over to offer her hand to smell when the animal lunged at her with a growl and chomped down on her calf. Hard. “Yow!” And just to make sure she got the message Doggie Dearest took a swipe at her hand, too.
Oh, pain. Oh, not fun
.

“Willie!” cried the woman. The dog lowered its ears and tail and slinked to her. “Bad dog! Get inside.” She hurried to where Emma was trying to examine her leg. “I'm so sorry. He's never bitten anyone.”

“I guess there's a first time for everything,” said Emma. Was she going to get rabies? What was it with her and animals these days?

“Are you all right?”

The woman looked so upset, Emma couldn't bring herself to admit that her leg was on fire. Her jeans were toast. “I'll be fine,” she assured both the woman and herself.

“Are you sure? He's never done that before, really. He's had his rabies shot. God, I feel awful.”

Not half as awful as Emma felt. “Don't worry. It's no big deal,” she said, and started limping off. “Nice meeting you.”

The woman didn't say anything. She was already retreating behind her front door.

Okay, that was enough of passing out flyers. They had the newspaper article coming out tonight. It would have to do.

She got home just in time to catch a phone call from her mother. “I stopped by the shop. You were closed,” said Mom.

“I closed early to go invite my neighbors to the meeting tomorrow night.”

“Now that was a good idea,” Mom said approvingly.

“Not really. I got bit by a dog.”

“Oh, no. Is it bad?”

Emma pulled off her jeans and examined the wound. There was a big, long scratch and another, smaller one above it. Bite marks. And lots of blood. She fell onto a kitchen chair, suddenly light-headed. “I'm bleeding.”

“I'll be right over,” said her mother. “We should take you to the clinic and get it looked at.”

There was nothing good about going to the doctor. You were always getting probed at one end or the other. “I'm sure it'll be fine,” said Emma. But she was bleeding and she hurt. She laid her head on the kitchen table.

“You should get a tetanus shot. It's been over ten years since you had one.”

How did moms keep track of all that stuff, anyway? “I don't want a shot.” Shots were the worst things in the whole wide world.

“You don't want tetanus, either,” said her mother firmly. “It's a terrible way to die.”

Die?
“Okay, let's go to the clinic,” Emma decided.

“Meanwhile, clean the bite with hydrogen peroxide,” Mom commanded. “It's the best thing in the world for infection.”

“Good idea.” Emma hurried to the bathroom, hoping that as she walked she wasn't pumping germy tetanus bugs all through her bloodstream. Tetanus shots were supposed to really hurt. Shots, infection—boy, did no good deed go unpunished. Still, if people came out for the meeting it would all be worth it.

How quickly did tetanus germs spread? Hopefully, she'd be alive for the meeting.

 

Emma lived, and on November fourth, she drove to the Heart Lake Grange Hall, hoping against hope that she'd see a parking lot full of cars. Or even half full. Okay, a third. She'd settle for that.

The trees parted to reveal the old log building that had been Heart Lake's Grange Hall since the thirties, when much of the land had been taken up by strawberry and blueberry farms. Exactly two cars sat in its potholed parking lot. One she recognized as her mom's. The other was Sarah's. Where was everyone else? Where was the woman with the leg-eating dog? She should have at least come out of guilt.

Emma parked her car and checked her watch. Six fifty-five and the meeting was supposed to start at seven. She suddenly felt like she had a stone inside her, sinking fast from her heart to her stomach. They had failed.

The crunch of tires on gravel made her turn. Yay, another body. People would show. They were just running late. Jamie pulled up next to her. She sighed. Well, the organizers were
here. And their mothers. She grabbed her platter of cookies from the front seat and got out.

“Big turnout,” Jamie said in disgust as she got out of her car.

“We still have five minutes,” Emma reminded her.

“Let's hope that everyone in Heart Lake is running late,” said Jamie. She shook her head. “And after that great article in the paper—if this is all the turnout we get I'm going to be majorly pissed.”

You and me both, thought Emma. Except Emma wasn't going to admit it.

They went inside to find Sarah had already decorated, hanging purple, pink, and red foiled hearts all over the walls. Emma's mother hurried over to greet her daughter, trailed by Grandma Nordby. It wasn't hard to tell the two women were related. Each one of them looked like Russian nesting dolls—with the same round face and body Emma had inherited. Mom's strawberry-blond hair was now shot with gray, well on its way to Grandma Nordby's solid white. Emma didn't need a magic mirror to see her future. All she had to do was look at her grandma and mom.

“We're so proud of you, dear,” said Grandma.

Emma frowned. “It's not much of a turnout.”

Her mother looked at her watch. “It's not seven yet. You still have four minutes.”

Four minutes. Anything could happen in four minutes. Emma set the platter of cookies she'd bought on the little table Sarah had covered with a tablecloth. It already held a flower arrangement courtesy of Hope Wells the florist and a plate of ginger cookies. Next to Sarah's famous ginger cookies, Emma's grocery-store offering didn't look like much.

Sarah emerged from the kitchen, carrying two coffee carafes. “Are we all ready?” she greeted them.

Emma nodded. “I just hope more people come.”

Car tires crunched on the gravel. “They'll be here,” Sarah assured her. “Sure you don't want to do the talking? This was your idea.”

Talk in front of people? No, thanks
. “You go ahead.”

At that moment Sarah's husband, Sam, joined them. He was a big man, still buff and good-looking in spite of the growing bald spot on the top of his head. “Don't forget to put this out,” he said, and laid the newspaper article on the table next to their cookies. “Pretty good publicity.”

It was. The headline read,
Heart Lake Angels Work to Put Heart in Heart Lake
, and in addition to the article, they'd gotten their pictures in the paper. It was the first time Emma had ever had her picture in the paper. She was going to frame it.

So, with all that great publicity, where was everyone?

The door opened and in walked Sarah's friend Kizzy Maxwell with her husband, Lionel. She saw Sarah and Emma, waved at them and started their way, her husband in tow. “This is a great idea,” she said, giving Sarah a hug. “Was it yours?”

Jamie had joined them now. She pointed to Emma. “Hers.”

“Oprah would be proud,” said Kizzy. Her husband grabbed a cookie from the platter and she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Lionel Jefferson Maxwell.”

He frowned and said, “I'm just having one.”

“They're free,” said Sam, digging in, “have two.”

“Good idea,” said Emma, and took two ginger cookies as consolation for their poor turnout.

As the minute hand inched toward seven, more people trickled in. There was Hope, and behind her Emma recognized Pastor Ed the gentle giant who gave pastors a good name; Kevin Dwyer, who ran the chamber of commerce; and Lezlie Hurst, the reporter from the
Heart Lake Herald,
who had done their story. Yay! Movers and shakers. And now here came . . .

“Oh, lucky us,” said Sarah next to her. “It's the mighty Quinn. She looks happy.”

Mayor Melanie Quinn was dressed to the nines as always in a gray suit accessorized with a string of pink pearls. Her highlighted blond hair was freshly styled and her face was perfectly madeup. And her smile was totally phony. Her eyes looked like blue ice as she walked toward them.

“What's she pissed about?” Jamie wondered.

“You can't guess?” Sarah said in an undertone voice. “This wasn't her idea. She can't take credit for it. Melanie,” she greeted the mayor. “This is an honor.”

Melanie Quinn was a good enough politician to ignore Sarah's sarcastic tone. “I'm glad to be here. Anything that involves Heart Lake involves me,” she added sweetly.

“How lucky for us.”

Sarah and the mayor had known each other for thirty years, but this was no time for old rivalries. “It's great to have your blessing,” Emma gushed, trying to make up for Sarah's unusual lack of manners.

“I just wish someone would have come to me with this idea,” said Mayor Quinn, still smiling. Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I could have helped ensure a bigger turnout.”

“Heaven knows you're good at manipulating numbers,” said Sarah. “How many recounts did we have to have last election?”

“Um, how about a cookie,” said Emma, grabbing the platter. “Fresh from the bakery.”

The mayor came as close to sneering as a public official who sensed the approach of the media could possibly come. “I'll pass. After a certain age most of us have to watch our waistline.”

Now Sarah's eyes narrowed.

“Mayor Quinn,” said Lezlie the reporter, pulling out her trusty camera. “How about a picture for the paper?”

“Of course,” said the mayor, slipping an arm around Sarah and Emma, and pulling Jamie in, too. “Sarah, you just get curvier all the time.”

“Still jealous?” Sarah shot back.

Mayor Quinn unhooked herself from them the moment the picture was snapped, saying, “If you ladies will excuse me, I need to speak with Kevin.”

“That woman,” Sarah growled as the mayor hurried across the room to network.

“Nice shindig,” said a voice at her elbow.

Emma took in the short man wearing black slacks and a shirt that looked like a leftover from one of the
Pirates of the Caribbean
movies. The shirt was open to show off a chest bristling with gray hairs. To top off the ensemble, he had a gold chain dangling around his neck.

He was checking out Sarah the way Kizzy's husband had looked at the ginger cookies. She did look cute in her jeans and V-necked black sweater. The V-neck stuff had become standard
since Sarah heard the lines were better for middle-aged women, although Emma suspected the newcomer wasn't so much admiring the flattering neckline on her sweater as he was the highlighted cleavage.

Sarah took the plate of cookies from Emma. “Cookie, Leo?”

“I love sweet things,” he said with a smile that made Emma think of the big, bad wolf.

“We should start,” said Sarah briskly. “Excuse me.” She moved up to the podium on the little stage. “If we could get you all to sit down,” she called, “we'll begin our meeting.”

Everyone obediently found a seat among the folding chairs Sam had set up—a few bodies adrift in a sea of chairs. It was a pretty unimpressive beginning, to say the least.