The Stubborn Schoolhouse Spirit (The Penelope Pembroke Cozy Mystery Series) (2 page)

Her eyes closed.
Oh, Sam, who are you? Why did you come back that night? You even said you’d be back again. I just wish I wasn’t so blessed glad about it.

CHAPTER TWO

Penelope rolled up the last batch of icebox cookie dough at the same time Mary Lynn Hargrove, her best friend since high school, showed up and helped herself to a cup of coffee and a day-old pastry from Rose’s Bakery. “Did you hear somebody bought the Sit-n-Swill?” she asked. The silvery highlights in her dark curly hair caught the morning sun from the window above the sink and made her smooth cheeks look like ripened peaches.

“Bradley came by last night. He heard it from Parnell.”

“Harry met them. Their name is Dancer. Don’t you think that’s an odd name for somebody running a bar?”

“That’s what Daddy says.” Penelope secured the rolls of dough in layers of waxed paper and aluminum foil. “He’s a designer—the husband.”

“What does he design?”

“Women’s clothes, heavy on the lingerie.”

Mary Lynn sputtered into a napkin, but not before droplets of coffee spewed onto the cherry Danish. “That’s hilarious.”

“I think so, too. She coached girls’ basketball.”

“At least that’s a normal occupation.”

“And designing clothes isn’t?”

“Not for a man.”

“Some of the most famous designers have been

men. Oleg Cassini for one.”

“Wasn’t he married to some movie star once?”

“Gene Tierney, I think. Anyway, I could name more.”

“Never mind. When are they going to open?”

“Bradley says there’s lots of cleaning up needing doing. The place has been shut down going on three months, and you know it’s been broken into at least twice.”

“I hope they paint that gosh-awful red bar.” Mary Lynn held out her cup for a refill.

Penelope poured herself a cup, too. “Poor old Roger.” She sat down across from her friend and hesitated between the oversized blueberry muffin top and half a peach kolache.

“He got what he asked for, didn’t he?”

“We’ll never know for sure, I guess, but a little recreational pot wasn’t worth getting burned up for.”

“If that’s all he was buying, but like you said, we’ll never know for sure. If you ask me, though, they all need to be behind bars. The drug dealers, I mean.”

“You’ve got to catch them first.”

“Including that lothario who waltzed you and Shana out of town and ran you
around like a couple of model cars.”

“I don’t think he was a drug dealer.”

“So what was he?”

“I don’t know.”
But I wish I did.
Penelope hurried to change the subject. “So tell me how things are going out at the old school.”

Mary Lynn wrinkled her nose. “It’s already damp and chilly inside that old place. And later on it’s going to be colder than a you-know-what in a you-know-what.”

Penelope smiled. “I know what.”

“I had some guy fill up the fuel tank. It wasn’t cheap, by the way, and now the boiler won’t come on. I’m going to need some heat upstairs soon if I’m going to get anything done.”

“What are you trying to get done first?”

“Just clean up that big room at the front.
With the light from those tall windows, it’ll be perfect for quilting and crafting.

“So what are you going to do for heat if the boiler won’t work?”

“I’m trying to find somebody up in Little Rock who knows how to work on one, but I’m not having any luck. So I guess I’ll either freeze or stop work after Christmas.”

“Harry would prefer
option number two.”

Mary Lynn grinned. “Yeah
. Did you hear Abigail Talbot has resigned?”

“No! Bradley didn’t say a word about it last night.”

“And guess what else? The library board is trying to get Shana Bayliss to come back.”

“She’ll never come back here.”

“Want to make a bet?” Mary Lynn narrowed her eyes.

“Why would she, with all the wagging tongues that would be only too happy to dredge up what happened with Travis?”

“Maybe for that reason.” Mary Lynn lifted her eyebrows in her ‘I know’ look.

“Huh?”

“You can’t run away from things.” Mary Lynn nodded agreement with her own statement. “Besides, there’s Bradley.”

“No, there’s not.”

“You don’t think he’d take her back?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Just take my word for it, Mary Lynn, he’s done with her. Anyway, getting back to the school, you’ll need some long tables for that room.”

“Right. I went poking around in one of the storage areas, hoping something like that got left behind when they moved over to the new school, but I came up empty.” She frowned. “And something odd happened while I was in there. Promise you won’t laugh.”

Penelope made an exaggerated
X on her chest. “Not if it’s not funny.”

“It’s not funny. When I was in the storage room, I thought I heard something.”

“Mice.”

“That’s what I thought
at first, but it was someone talking.”

“Not the mice, huh?  Ghosts?”

Mary Lynn shivered. “Every time I go in that place, I get the feeling I’m not alone.”

“Maybe you’re not.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“No, honestly. Lots of kids spend a good part of their childhood in that building. Maybe some of them didn’t want to leave.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts, and you don’t either. You shouldn’t anyway.”

Penelope licked some peach filling from her fingers. “Where were the voices coming from?”

“I don’t know. But they’re not going to run me off. I intend to get that old place in tip-top shape. There’s so much potential for community activities. I don’t know why someone hasn’t thought of it before.”

“Whatever. You know I’ll help you.”

“I’m counting on that. Mainly I’m just cleaning up right now, and then I’ll paint.”

“What about the plumbing? You know all those little ladies will have to go piddle two dozen times a morning while they’re quilting, especially if you keep the coffee going.”

“I thought I’d dig up the old privy.”

“Ha
ha. Was there one?”

“The place was built in 188
0, so I’m betting there were his and hers somewhere.”

“Seriously?”

“No, I didn’t go out looking for latrines! The bathrooms aren’t bad. I checked with city hall, and the plumbing was installed around 1920. Bob Nance said I’d have to get an inspector out there to see if it’s still tied into the city lines or on a septic tank.” Mary Lynn studied her friend’s face. “I’m worried about you, Pen.”

“I’m all right.”

“No, you’re not. It’s been almost five months, and that spark still isn’t back.”

“What spark?”

“That go-get-‘em-I-can-do-it spark. The one that made you turn this place into a B&B. And before that, the one that made you go back to nursing school when Bradley started first grade. And leave Travis.”

“Survival.”

“No. If you ask me…”

“I didn’t.”

“If you ask me, that Sam person is behind all this. Did you maybe get the hots for him?”

Penelope jumped up. “No, and if I did, it’s none of your business.” She took their cups to the sink and rinsed them.

“You did. I knew it. Listen, I’m your best friend. Tell me about him.”
            “There’s nothing to tell.”

“What did he look like?”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped, as she leaned against the cabinet. From the window she almost could see him striding down the path to the garage the morning after the first night he’d spent in the front room. The night she’d patched the cut above his eyebrow and said it would leave a scar, and it had.
Shoulders like a weight-lifter, hips like a jockey
. She’d blushed then, and she blushed now. “He’s nice looking,” she said finally. “He looks older than he is, which is forty-eight if I can believe anything he says. Hair more salt than pepper, blue eyes, six feet something.”

“A hunk?”

          “Stop it, Mary Lynn. He used to teach medieval literature somewhere back east.”

“Oh, my stars, an intellectual.”

“Sometimes I hated him, and sometimes I…” Penelope’s voice trailed off. “I wish I’d never laid eyes on him.”

“I wish you hadn’t either. I don’t like what I’m seeing. You need some new interests, Pen.”

“Like what?”

“Well, helping me with the school for one.”

“I told you I would, but I’m not freezing my tookus off out there.”

“I’ll ge
t the boiler working, I promise.” Mary Lynn snatched up the zebra-striped bag she carried everywhere in every season. “Travis Pembroke was a rotten rounder. You don’t need to go for number two.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Harry’s bald and got a paunch, and some people think he’s not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but he loves me.” Mary Lynn bit her lip. “And I love him more than anything in the world. It’s just the two of us, but we’re enough for each other.”

“Harry’s a good man. He’s the reason this town is still alive.”

“Next to me, he loves Amaryllis best. It’s his home.” Mary Lynn put her hand on the doorknob. “Think about doing something, Pen. Anything to get you out from under this big black cloud.”

Penelope nodded. “Sure. And let me know when you want me to bring my arsenal of cleaning supplies and pitch in.”

She waited until Mary Lynn’s car backed out of the drive before she poured herself another cup of coffee and sat down to nurse it.
Do something. Anything. Easier said than done. I do enough. I run this place, look after Daddy…well, maybe he looks after me as much as I do him, but it’s a full time job for both of us.

She glanced at the calendar from Roan’s Feed Store. Jake always insisted on hanging it in the kitchen because he liked the pictures of the horses and cattle.
Just a little over a month until Christmas. I haven’t even started my Christmas shopping. I could do that. Go over to Little Rock and spend a day or so. I’ll stay in a hotel and shop by day and party by night.

Party. I’ll have a Christmas party. Lord knows we all need something to get us in the holiday spirit, even Bradley. He’s weighed down with making decisions about Pembroke Point, and now Abigail’s going. But good
riddance. She wasn’t the girl for him, and neither is Shana. I wonder if Shana’s really coming back. It would be nice. We got kind of close while we were on the run. I sort of thought of her as almost a real daughter instead of a pretend one.

“
Whatcha doin’, Nellie?”

“Hi, Daddy. You been uptown?”

“Yep.”

“
Find out what you wanted to know?”

He grinned.

“I’m a pretty good detective. Maybe Brad got it from me. When’s lunch?”

“You just ate breakfast two hours ago, Daddy, and I’ll bet you and the Toney Twins cleaned up a dozen doughnuts with your coffee.”

“Anymore coffee then?”

“In the pot. So what did you find out?”

Jake sat down and wrapped his hands around his favorite mug, the one with the English setters on the front. It had been a Christmas gift from his grandson the first year Bradley was allowed to shop by himself at the variety store. “Marion Dancer, better known as Mike, and his wife Millie roared up to the Daisy Café on a Harley.”

“Bikers? They’re bikers?”

Jake’s grin almost split his face. “Been all over the United States and Canada on that thing.”

“Oh, tourists.”

“Well, not Hell’s Angels, that’s for sure.”

“Daddy.”

“You implied it, Nellie.”

“I did not.”

“Anyway, they’re good people.”

“Then I’ll invite them to my Christmas party.”

“You’re going to give a Christmas party?”

“I’m going to give one wing-ding of a party, Daddy.” Penelope got up. “I’m going upstairs right now and start digging out the Christmas decorations.”

****

That night, satisfied with the vision of neatly-stacked boxes of Christmas decorations lining the hallway, Penelope fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. The insistent ringing of the phone by her bed jerked her from dreams of unpacking those old, well-loved decorations with two grandchildren, a boy who looked like Bradley, and a girl who looked like Officer
Rosabel Deane.

“What?” she barked into the phone.

“Hello there.”

Her stomach knotted. “Sam? Where are you?”

“Just ask me
how
I am, and leave it at that.”

She struggled to sit up. “All right, how are you?”

“Good. How about you?”

“I was asleep.”
             

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’re probably doing time somewhere and picked the lock of the warden’s office to make this call.”