Eyes at the Window (4 page)

Chapter 4

Miranda knew she needed get more work done if she was to make even one room habitable by nightfall. But unease nagged at her mind and hunger gnawed at her stomach until she finally decided to take a break. Finding a spoon in a kitchen drawer, she washed it and opened a jar of Sissy’s peaches.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, she ate right out of the jar and nearly emptied the whole quart before sighing with satisfaction. If Sissy’s blueberry jam was half as good as the peaches, it was no wonder she’d won awards for it. Rufus sat by her side the whole time, eyes following the path of the spoon from jar to mouth. Miranda was not in the habit of feeding him people food, but his ever hopeful heart wanted to be sure he was close at hand, just in case.

The log Harlan had thrown on the hot coals had finally burned down enough that Miranda thought it would be safe to bank down the fire and make a trip to town. “You think you can watch the place for me while I’m gone?” She ruffled the bristled hair around the dog’s neck. “Maybe I’ll even bring you back a treat for being so good.”

Rufus turned in an excited circle, watching her as she poked at the burnt ashes and found her purse and keys. He did not look nearly as happy when she pulled out his lead chain from the car trunk and attached it to the eye bolt on the roof of the dog house. She had to call him twice before he came to her and his expression accused her when she clipped the other end of the chain to his collar.

“It’s just for a while,” she told him. “And only because it’s a new place. I don’t want to lose you, pup. What would I do without you?” When she took his head in her hands and rubbed his ears, he seemed to forgive her, his tongue lolling sideways in a doggie grin.

Silly though it might be, Rufus always had a way of brightening her day. Between him and the beautiful sunshine, Miranda’s spirits had improved significantly by the time she made it to Riverside. When she reached the Power Company parking lot and discovered she had a cell signal, she was sure her luck had taken an upswing.

Unfortunately, that illusion didn’t last long.

“What do you mean someone cancelled the request?” she asked the clerk behind the desk when they told her what had happened. “Who would have done that?”

The young girl, who looked like someone who should still be in school, grew red-cheeked as she clicked at the computer keyboard and scrolled with the mouse.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Preston, it doesn’t say. Just shows the day you called to ask for service and here, see for yourself—“ She turned the monitor so Miranda could read the screen. “Two days later a request came in to cancel it.”

“Well that’s ridiculous. Why would anyone ask for electricity one day and change their mind two days later? Never mind. Someone here made a mistake. That’s the only explanation. Someone typed in the wrong number and closed the wrong account. What we need to do now is get it fixed. Get it turned back on.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll get the work order started right away.” More keyboard clicking and mouse scrolling. “It should just be two, three days at the most and it will all be straightened out.”

Two days? Two nights of sleeping in that huge house with only a flashlight and some candles?

“No way,” Miranda insisted. “I want things turned on today. Right away. At least by nightfall.”

“But Ms. Preston, with the storm last night—”

“No excuses. This was your error and correcting it should be top priority. Where’s your supervisor? I’ll tell him so myself.”

The clerk got even more flustered than Miranda felt. The girl’s whole face was flaming as she stuttered out an apology. Guilt washed away the feeling of panic that had caused Miranda to overreact. As the girl turned away to get her manager, Miranda stopped her by laying fingers lightly on her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Miranda said. “Please, I’m just tired and grumpy. But I really, really need to have the lights on by tonight. Isn’t there something you can do to help?”

“I don’t know. I—well, I can try. Let me go talk to the dispatcher and see where the guys are with their repairs. If they’re already in your area fixing downed lines, maybe it would be easy for them to just drop by and get things set for you. Just wait here.”

To Miranda’s relief, when the girl returned, it was with the assurance that someone should be able to turn the service on later than afternoon. Miranda felt like kissing her, but settled for a huge grin and hearty handshake.

When she got back in the car, however, she started to worry. Should be able to turn on the power, the girl had said. What if they couldn’t? What would be worse, sleeping in that huge farmhouse with its dark gaping rooms and murky cellar, or huddled in the back seat again where any anonymous face could peer in at her? Even if the electricity did get turned on, what would happen the next time it stormed? If it took three days to restore power every time a strong wind blew through, she would be miserable.

Her trip to the phone company did nothing to boost her confidence in the services available in this rural district. It would take at least a week to install a land line telephone in the house due to the storm and the amount of work the small office had to keep up with. When Miranda inquired about the existence of local cell phone service, she was told there was a local company that sold phones and plans, but that even then service would be spotty in the area the farm was located.

By the time Miranda headed to the supermarket, she was frustrated enough to be tempted to take the highway entrance ramp instead and just head back to the city. If she’d had Rufus with her, she might even have done it, though she knew she would probably change her mind a few miles down the road.

Just to be on the safe side, in addition to buying some staples for the pantry, Miranda bought bags of ice for the cooler she had in the car trunk, and loaded up her shopping cart with candles, batteries and two 18-watt electric lanterns. She’d rather risk burning the whole place down than be caught in the dark again.

On the way back to the farm, she drove through Greenville to check in at the post office. She’d made arrangements online to have her mail routed to her new address, but with everything else going wrong, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure that request hadn’t also gone astray somehow.

Greenville only had one main street with three churches and a post office on one side, and two taverns and a small grocery story on the other. It also boasted several residential streets and had two small parks, one at either end of town. Several children were climbing a jungle gym and climbing slides in the playground of one of them.

The park across the street from the post office had a big sign that Miranda parked in front of. “Harvest Fair,” it announced. “Fall Fun For the Family.” The fair was scheduled to start the next Saturday and last through the weekend. Today that park was deserted except for a little girl skipping rope on the concrete of the picnic shelter at the park’s center.

The post office was in a building that looked like it used to be a gas station, except the pumps outside had been removed and the tall pole at the corner of the lot had the signage removed. Bells shook as Miranda opened the door, sounding like a Christmas sleigh.

“Well, good afternoon,” said the cheerful woman who walked to the counter from a back room. “How can I help you?” Her name tag marked her as Patty Carmichael, Postmistress. She wore the simple white blouse and blue skirt that seemed to be a post office standard, but a red knit sweater had been thrown over her shoulders. A chain clipped to each end of the collar kept the sweater in place, and charms had been hung from it like a bracelet.

“Hi, I’m Miranda Preston. I just moved in to—”

“Grandma Preston’s place,” Patty interrupted. “Sure, sure, I know you. You’re… no, no, don’t tell me, I’ll get it. Once I get it I’ll never forget. Never do. I know every name within ten miles, I swear. Miranda, that’s it, Miranda Preston.”

Miranda laughed. “That’s right.” There was something endearing about the woman’s nonsensical rambling that made Miranda feel welcomed.

Patty was still talking. “Sorry if I sounded too familiar. All us kids used to call her Grandma at church. She taught Sunday school, you know. A saint. That woman was a saint. So how can I help you, Miranda?” Patty grinned. “See, I told you I’d remember.”

“I wanted to make sure my change of address went through correctly. And ask about the delivery schedule just in case—”

“Smart one, you are, just like your grandmother. Can’t be too careful these days. Poor old thing was gone for two days before anyone noticed the mail piling up in her box. That Harlan Hunter. Now I never say a word about anybody, everybody knows I don’t, but sometimes that man gets my goat.”

This time Patty had Miranda completely confused but before she could ask her what she meant, a farmer with a faded red ball cap came in to buy stamps and complain about the price of corn. “Crop’s hardly worth harvesting,” the man said. He spoke to Patty, but glanced curiously at Miranda from the corner of his eye. “It’ll cost me more than it’s worth to hire some hands to bring it in, that’s for sure.”

The conversation moved on to how unreliable hired labor could be. Both Patty and the farmer nodded their heads in agreement when the other talked, even when there was nothing to agree on. Finally, the man said his goodbyes to Patty and tipped his hat to Miranda with a mumbled, “Ma’am.” He left with a jingle of sleigh bells.

Patty turned back to Miranda with a smile. “So now what can I do for you?” she asked.

“I wanted to make sure you got my change of address,” Miranda said again. “But I don’t quite understand what you were saying about Harlan and the mail piling up.”

“Oh sure, honey, we got it. Let me just check here.” Patty turned to the computer terminal and started searching her records. “Wires get crossed is all I’m saying. How’s it the fault of the post office that no one noticed the mail backed up like that? Harlan lives just a lick down the road. Seems he could’ve noticed something was wrong at your place. Here we go. Miranda Preston. All the way from Chicago. Yep, yep. Nothing in yet, dearie, but we’ll be sure and send it out once it does.”

Miranda opened her mouth and drew a breath in, then paused, not sure how to untangle the conversation. “I’m sorry, are you saying my Grandmother died at the farm and no one noticed she was gone for two days?”

The idea filled her with guilt followed by a defensive voice in her head saying there was no way she could have known. When she got the job in Chicago, she’d intended to make a trip or two to visit her grandmother but there never seemed to be a good time in her hectic schedule. She’d sent Christmas cards, though, and had flowers delivered every Mother’s Day with a nice note. Somehow those things seemed inadequate when compared to the thought of the poor woman dying alone, her body not even discovered until days later.

Patty placed a hand on Miranda’s wrist and leaned forward. “Don’t you fret any,” she said in a warm voice. “Your grandmother was the most self-sufficient and independent woman I know. She went the way she would have wanted to, I’m sure of that.”

The words comforted Miranda. Patty’s kind heart seemed to have a knack for picking up on a person’s feelings despite her scatter-brained way of talking.

“Tell you what.” Patty released Miranda’s arm with a pat. “Why don’t you come over to our place for dinner tonight as a welcome home? The hubby is poor company at best and I’d jump for the chance to have somebody at table I could talk to for once.”

“I would love to.” Miranda was surprised to realize she really meant that. “But you wouldn’t believe how much work I still have to do at the farm. The place is a mess and I really want to get things halfway settled at least. Maybe another time?”

“It’s a date. You stop by next time you make a grocery run and we’ll pick a day. I hope you’re not going to miss the Fall Festival, though. Only happens once a fall, you know. Saturday’s the big kick off. You’ve got to make that at least. Say you’ll take a little time to join us at the park then, won’t you, sweetie?”

Miranda smiled and agreed. She was sure she’d be glad of a chance to take a break by then. When she returned to the car she was feeling much better than she had since her struggles with the utility company. Even realizing she’d forgotten to pick up doggie treats didn’t faze her. She decided the oversight would give her a chance to check out the town’s small grocery store.

Small was the operative word. The inside of the store had about as much square footage as a one car garage. Despite the lack of shelf space, the proprietor had managed to find room for all the essentials from toilet paper to catsup to jelly beans. They even had a meat counter and frozen foods section. Miranda found dog treats (only one brand) and then, only a shelf away from the dogfood section, she picked up a treat for herself: vanilla wafer cookies. She even bought a small carton of milk to go with them. The ice in the cooler should keep it cold till tonight. The idea of eating her favorite childhood snack on her first night in the house that held so many dear memories sounded comforting.

A pimple-faced teenager checked her out at the store’s only cash register. The checkout counter actually was just a counter, no moving belt to scoot groceries to the end. A sign on the dented cash register said “No Credit Cards for purchases under $5 please.”

As Miranda dug for cash in her wallet, a movement caught her eye through the storefront window. Standing on the sidewalk looking in, apparently straight at her, was a young man in his late twenties. Just over six feet tall, his brown hair caught the afternoon sun and his green eyes were so intense she could tell their color even through the rippled glass. His brown leather jacket looked well worn, but good quality. When she caught his eye, he didn’t look away as she expected, but stared intently for a beat until, finally, he turned and sauntered out of sight.