Eve’s proposal was the last thing Andy had expected. The more Eve talked, the more intrigued she became. It was far more interesting than the pounding nails or filing papers that she’d expected. And she’d always liked research.
Plus, it would absorb her. She needed something like that. “I’ll try it,” she finally said. “I can’t promise anything remotely coherent.”
Eve grinned. “I’ll try to tone down my expectations.”
Their lunch arrived then, and Andy took a bite. “Mmm,” she said. “I like this.”
“Good,” Eve said, and they both concentrated on the sandwiches and fries. Andy couldn’t remember when anything had tasted so good. After they finished, Eve looked at her watch. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes. I’ll drop you over at the community center where the museum is.”
“Should we drop Joseph off at the cabin first?” Andy asked.
“I think Joseph can go almost any place you want to take him in Covenant Falls. Amos, my husband’s dog, has pretty well shattered people’s opinions as to where a dog should or should not go. He’s the town celebrity.”
“Why?” Andy asked.
“He saved my son’s life twice,” she said, “but that’s a long story and takes time in the telling. Why don’t you come over for supper tomorrow night? Clint and my husband both want to meet you. It will be really relaxed. You can leave any time you want, no explanations needed. Joseph is invited, as well.”
Andy wasn’t sure she was ready for a social event yet.
“I don’t want to pressure you,” Eve said, obviously sensing her hesitation. “So say no if you’re not ready. God knows my husband and I both understand. He was the loner of all time when he first moved into the cabin.”
“And now?” Andy asked.
“He still has a tendency to run off to the woods on occasion, but he’s adapting,” she said with a grin. “Not easy in my household.”
Andy surrendered. It was impossible to say no to Eve Manning. “Okay,” she said. What was that saying? In for a penny, in for a pound.
IT WAS MIDAFTERNOON when Eve drove into a parking area in back of the two-story brick building she’d pointed out earlier. A sign outside identified it as the Covenant Falls Community Center.
Andy was quickly having second thoughts. Why had she agreed to Eve’s suggestion of writing a history of the town? But she had agreed to try, and she did need a job, a goal, a diversion. She needed to start living again, even if it was so damn hard.
Andy reluctantly followed Eve up the step, through the unlocked door and into a vestibule. A gray-haired, wiry man rose from a desk in a corner. She noted a Western novel on his desk.
“This is Bill Evans,” Eve said. “He manages the center. Bill, this is Andy Stuart. She moved into the cabin today. And this is Joseph.”
At the sound of his name, Joseph barked and wagged his tail.
Mr. Evans leaned down and scratched the dog’s ears. “He’s a handsome fellow.” Joseph wriggled with pleasure at the attention.
Then the man straightened and held out his hand and she took it. “Real pleased to meet you,” he said. It was a firm shake, and she warmed to his friendly grin.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Bill, I wondered if you could show Andy around the center and particularly the museum,” Eve said. She turned to Andy. “It’s on our wish list to do more with it, but money is tight. I’m leaving you in good hands. I have a meeting. It seems I always have a meeting. But Bill will take good care of you. He can drive you and Joseph back to the cabin.”
“Not necessary,” Andy said. “Joseph and I can make it alone. We walked up the mountain earlier.”
“Okay, but if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call me,” Eve said, “and we’ll see you tomorrow night.” And then she was gone.
“Is she always so...busy?” she asked.
Bill Evans grinned. With his thin hair and neatly trimmed mustache, he looked to be in his late sixties. “Yes, and as a fellow vet, I feel it necessary to warn you about our mayor. She’s really good at keeping others in the same state.”
“She suggested that I try to write a short history of Covenant Falls for a brochure.”
“That’s what she suggested, huh?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
Andy wasn’t sure she liked the way he said it. “Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem at all,” he said. “Sounds like a good idea. You a writer?”
“Nope. A nurse by training,” she admitted.
“Ah, one of the angels. I served in Vietnam and that’s the way we thought about the nurses. And the doctors. They saved my life, for sure.”
She didn’t reply. She was still pondering his previous—enigmatic—words.
He didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll show you around.” He walked to the left and stood in an open door while she looked inside. “This is our library and computer center. Nate Rowland, another one of our vets, built the shelves for the books.”
Andy peered inside. Large windows were framed by cheerful drapes. Books filled shelves that lined one wall of the room. Several worn but comfortable-looking chairs were scattered in front of them. Two preschoolers were sprawled on throw rugs in front of the shelves. Several older children were browsing through books on higher shelves.
Two teenagers and an elderly woman sat in front of three of the ten computers lined up on a long table. Not wanting to disturb them, she joined Bill Evans, who was waiting in the hall.
“Nice,” she said.
“The center is all Eve’s doing. This building used to be a restaurant, and it stood here empty for nearly twenty years until Eve decided we needed a community center. She badgered the city council into making repairs with volunteer help.”
He led the way across the hall to a door and opened it. “This is our meeting room. We vets meet here every Monday night. You’re invited, of course.”
“Nate Rowland mentioned it,” Andy replied.
“You’ve met Nate? He’s a good guy. He’s the one who really started the Monday-night get-togethers. It’s helped a bunch of us, just talking about things we can’t talk to anyone else about. I hope you come. You’ll like everyone, and we need new blood. You play poker, by any chance?”
“I’ve been known to,” she replied modestly.
He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then grinned. He rambled on, “We’re not the only ones who meet here. We just claim Monday night.”
Andy admired the room. Like the other one, it had an eccentric charm. Three elderly overstuffed sofas of varying colors and design were scattered throughout the room. An equally aged television sat in a corner. A battered bar ran along the back of the room with mismatched bar chairs. Card tables and folding chairs lined one of the walls.
“I like it,” she said. “It looks...comfortable.”
“Ah, a diplomat,” he said. “It’s all donated except for the folding chairs.”
“In an odd way, everything fits,” she said. Then she remembered why she was there. “And the museum, Mr. Evans?” she prompted.
“It’s Bill. I hope I can call you Andy.”
“I