Морган Лливелин - Drop by Drop

The man who had mentioned law enforcement only overheard a portion of this conversation, but he agreed enthusiastically. “I’ve got plenty of guns!”

Jack ordered a double.

He had spent much of his adult life on the fringes of the military/industrial behemoth that spanned continents. By now he knew his abilities and limitations. He accepted that he would never rise to the top, lazing in a luxurious retreat on a private island while he pulled invisible strings. That would not suit his disposition. He preferred being in the heart of the action.

In the past if a payout was sufficiently lavish he had used it to take a chunk of his retirement, indulging himself while he was still young enough and healthy. Or sitting on his aunt’s front porch with his feet propped on the railing, watching the world go by until restlessness seized him again.

Being a small-town entrepreneur was not what he had envisioned as a lifetime career.

Lifetime…

Jack set down his glass.

For a supposedly smart man you’ve been a damned fool, he told himself. You never really thought about how you’d spend the rest of your life. What a bloody jackass. You assumed you’d always be young and the world would be the same forever.

Until Nell Bennett came along. That gentle woman who just might complete the riddle of me.

At a time when it looks like all hell’s going to break loose.

Bea Fontaine had not discussed Oliver Staunton’s proposal with her nephew. She knew what he would say, and he would be right. Chaos was lurking on the horizon; it would be ridiculous to add five unmanageable children to their household. For once she was thankful for Jack’s basic selfishness. He would not let her take them even if she wanted to.

Which was a good thing. What those boys might do to her cats didn’t bear thinking about.

Yet while she was cooking supper she did think about it. And about five children, all of them still suffering from injuries both physical and emotional, who now had no responsible parent. Waiting for someone to decide their future.

Gerry and Gloria Delmonico wanted to keep the world at arm’s length, but it was no longer possible. Gloria was on leave from the hospital, but she could not just sit at home and worry about her unborn baby. She rode with Gerry in the new carriage, which meant that the paying passengers were able to give her all the news she did not want to know.

She was waiting.

They were all waiting. For an event, an enemy, a nightmare. Something they could feel in the atmosphere but not see.

Evan Mulligan was worried about Rocket. “She’s off her feed, Dad. I’ve given her oats and bran mash and alfalfa…”

“Alfalfa’s too rich for a mare in foal, I’ve told you that.”

“But she has to eat! What d’you think’s wrong with her?”

“Animals are more sensitive than we are, Evan. Even that Rottweiler of Paige’s is refusing his food; not all of it, but some. Don’t worry about Rocket, I’ll give her a feed supplement tonight and an appetite stimulant. She’s going to be a mother and she has good instincts; she won’t let her foal starve.”

While Lila Ragland lay on the narrow bed in the Spartan chamber Edgar Tilbury called his “guest quarters,” she ran a parade of favorite scenes across the screen of her mind. It was her favorite way of unwinding and courting sleep. Trees in a Swedish park, black against a startlingly bright sky. Sipping a mug of hot chocolate on the topmost platform of the Mont Blanc ski lift. A marble sculpture in the Musée d’Orsay, depicting the nature god Pan as a little boy playing with two bear cubs.

The next image came unbidden. Shay Mulligan cradling a black cat.

Since the afternoon when Jack and Nell met the Delmonicos there, Bill’s Bar and Grill had become their frequent meeting place. All over town people were forming little groups, tribes composed of friends rather than relatives. Bill’s exercised a magnetic attraction and not just for Hooper Watson and Morris Saddlethwaite. The central location combined with good food and a relaxed, convivial atmosphere encouraged other patrons to linger.

As Bill remarked to his sister-in-law, “Funny thing, Marla; people don’t seem to be in as much of a hurry as they used to be.”

“But you want me to hurry up with that last order, right?”

“Right,” he affirmed.

When Shay Mulligan brought Lila Ragland to join the band of regulars, Hooper Watson glowered fiercely at him. Unabashed, the younger man gave him a cheery wave. “Hi, Hoop! How ya doin’?”

Under his breath Watson muttered to Morris Saddlethwaite, “Not gonna let him drive me outta my place.” He spent the entire evening firmly planted on his stool, like a frog on a log.

When the regulars ordered a round of drinks Shay made a point of having one sent to “Sheriff Watson.”

That set the pattern for subsequent occasions.

The group discussed regular meetings. Perhaps on a Wednesday. “I go to my office every Wednesday morning to check my mail,” Nell said, “but I wonder why I bother. No one’s making any offers on property; almost the only letters I get are from people trying to sell theirs, and I can’t help them. It would be easier to visit the office in the afternoon and then drop by here for an early supper. Jess and Colin want fish fingers or hamburgers and my mother fixes those for them.”

“I thought you were planning to move,” said Shay.

Her expression was rueful. “I am; I just don’t know where. Much good it does me to be in real estate.”

“I can make this the regular stop for my supper break,” Gerry decided. “Now that we have Danielle I can pick up Gloria and the baby and bring them too… if Bill’s not averse to one of his customers breast-feeding.”

Bill Burdick responded with a thumbs-up. “Only if you’ll let me be her godfather.”

The group took a proprietary interest in the newest Delmonico. Gerry enjoyed boasting, “She’s the first baby in Sycamore River to be born in a pony and trap; the hospital’s only working ambulance was on another call. Young Evan Mulligan helped with the delivery. That boy has a great future as an obstetrician ahead of him,” he added with a chuckle.

Among Rob’s effects at home Nell had found a very early AllCom that still worked. Battered and grimy, it had been in the bottom of Colin’s sock drawer. Gerry Delmonico had another reclaimed from a locker at RobBenn; Shay’s son had a third he had been given on his tenth birthday. Joined with the AllCom at the vet clinic they formed a sketchy network not to be trusted, but better than nothing.

On the strength of his AllCom and his assistance with Danielle’s birth, Evan Mulligan was invited to join the group.

And Lila invited Edgar Tilbury.

“Those youngsters won’t want an old fart around,” he told her.

“You’re the most interesting man I know, and they talk about things that would interest you. Don’t be a hermit, Edgar.”

“I’m not a hermit,” he said indignantly. And accompanied her to the next meeting.

The Wednesday Club commandeered the largest booth and augmented it with a table pushed against the end. If he was not busy Bill himself was invited to sit in. He enjoyed the conversation and often had something to contribute.

Watson and Saddlethwaite retained their familiar stools, but made no secret of the fact that they were listening too. What was happening in Bill’s was more interesting and more entertaining than anywhere else. When it was time to buy a round of drinks the two men began to chip in, which entitled them to call out, “Say what?” if they missed something.