Gunns & Roses(57)
Selecting a slotted spoon from the collection of utensils sprouting out of a stoneware crock, Annie divided the cucumbers and onions between the hot, sterilized pint-size jars lined up on the counter next to the stove. Pouring carefully, she filled each jar with enough of the liquid to reach up to a half-inch from the top. After trading the spoon for a towel she had dampened, she made sure each rim was clean and then fit each jar with a lid.
Annie had just placed the jars into a hot-water bath when the phone rang. Setting a timer first, she grabbed the phone from the charger. “Hello?”
Ian’s crisp, friendly voice responded, “Good morning, Annie. Are you busy? I have some news for you.”
“Well, I have about fourteen minutes until I need to take my pickle jars out of their hot-water bath. What’s up?” As mayor of Stony Point, Ian’s news could encompass too many possibilities to try to guess.
“I have two visitors sitting next to Charlotte’s desk. They’ve come about the messages you left at the Highland Games. Can you come down and meet with us?”
Annie couldn’t hold back a squeal. “Really?” A thought darted into her mind. “Wow, and in the fog too? It seems like a mighty strange day to decide to respond.” Her eyes strayed over to the timer. “I’ll leave as soon as I can take the jars out of the bath.”
“Don’t try to rush the driving,” Ian told her. “I’ll keep our guests entertained until you can get here.”
“Thank you, Ian! Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. See you soon.” Annie hung up the phone and dashed upstairs to prepare to leave as soon as the jars were set out to cool on a towel. The timer began to buzz while she was on her way back down the stairs, her hair combed, clothes changed, and teeth freshly brushed. Setting the bag containing the sealskin sporran containing the ferrules on the kitchen table, Annie swiftly transferred the jars of pickles out of the water and onto the counter. A moment later, after donning a light rain jacket against the moisture outside, she dashed out the door, fog or no fog.
Although it seemed to Annie she was inching laboriously along Ocean Drive toward town, she arrived at Town Hall within minutes. She hurried up the steps, through the main door and across the foyer, praying the visitors had not been hit with cold feet while waiting for her. She paused as she came to the mayor’s office, taking a deep breath to calm herself before entering.
Ian’s secretary, Charlotte Nash, sat behind a computer that dominated the right side of her desk. She looked up from the screen and smiled, as she swiveled her chair around to face the newcomer. Annie was surprised to see no other people in the room, and she fought disappointment.
“Hi, Annie,” Charlotte’s short silver hair bobbed as she nodded toward the door of the inner office. “The visitors are with the mayor. You can go right in.”
Relief flooded Annie as she shed her outerwear and hung it on a coat tree in the corner by the door. With a quick “Thanks, Charlotte!” she strode to Ian’s door and knuckled a light rap on it. At Ian’s response, she stepped inside the office, closing the door behind her.
A man and a woman sat in front of Ian’s desk, the man with dark hair and the woman with a layered, shoulder length cut, her light brown locks shining with gold highlights. There was something familiar about the man, although Annie was not yet in a position to see his face.
Ian’s smile widened as he looked up at Annie. “Welcome, Annie. You made it in good time. How’s the fog?”
“Still as thick and gray as Boots’s fur,” Annie answered. “But I’m starting to get used to it.”
Ian addressed the newcomers. “Annie lived most of her adult life in Texas, but we’re thankful to have her grace Stony Point now. Annie, this is Ansley Gunn Bell, and you might recognize Finley Rose.”
Gunn, Bell and Rose! Annie maneuvered around the back of the chairs and approached the man and woman to offer her hand. Looking into Ansley’s eyes, she almost felt as though she already knew her and realized why. “You must be related to Kyla Bell.”
The woman, who appeared to be about ten years younger than Annie, smiled up at her. “Yes, Kyla is my daughter.”
“She was a delight to meet and talk with,” said Annie. “She gave such encouragement to the daughter of one of my friends.”
“You must mean Emily.” Ansley answered. “Kyla has talked about her since the Games. I think she would be thrilled to adopt her as a sister, especially since she doesn’t have any.”
A light laugh escaped Annie. “I have no doubt Emily feels the same way. She was so excited to meet her favorite dancer from the competition. Oh!” Annie caught her breath. “Did Kyla get her shoes back? Emily was beside herself with fear she wouldn’t. We tried to find her to return them when she left them behind at the sheepherding field, but the crowds were too much so we left them at the lost and found booth.”