Songbird Season Read online

  “Frank and Miriam are on their way. They can explain everything.” There was a rustling behind the metal door leading into the wood shop, but Melinda’s shoulders fell in defeat when she saw George come through.

  “Sorry, were you expecting someone else?” George chuckled as he removed his cap. “Hey.” He peered out the front windows. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Information to come.” Doc gestured with his scone. “Pull up a chair, George.”

  Frank rushed in, his face flushed. “Miriam’s parking around back. Why are they here today, did they give any explanation?”

  Melinda shrugged. “They were in the neighborhood, I guess. I didn’t get much else out of them, Auggie got so angry and …”

  “You’re damn right I did!” Auggie stormed up the main aisle, the coffeepot caught in an angry chokehold. “Frank Lange, you’ve got some explaining to do! Nobody can change their sidewalk on their own, it’s public property. Does Jerry know about this?”

  “They’re not here to measure the sidewalk,” Frank said quietly.

  Melinda sighed. “I tried to tell him that.”

  Auggie plugged in the coffeepot, then pointed out the window. “Oh, come on! I can see that they …”

  “Sit down, Auggie! You’ve said enough for one morning.” Miriam came up the aisle, her face pale and tired. “Give Frank a chance to explain. Can’t you see how upset he is already? Sit. Down.” She pointed at an empty chair. “Now.”

  Auggie sat. George shoved a plated scone in his face and Auggie sheepishly accepted it.

  “We’ve been trying to keep this quiet for weeks,” Frank’s voice was barely above a whisper as he looked at the floor. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so eager to go through the city’s old files, we never would have known about this.”

  “The past has a way of catching up, one way or another.” Miriam rubbed his shoulder. “Honey, the truth would have come out someday. Best we face it now, head-on.”

  Auggie opened his mouth again, but closed it when he saw Frank was nearly in tears. Doc leaned forward in his chair, worry etched on his face. “Whatever it is, you’ll feel better if you just come out with it. Tell us what happened.”

  “There’s a discrepancy with Prosper Hardware’s lot.” Miriam tipped her head toward the windows. “A variation in the …”

  “It’s all wrong!” Frank was crying now. “And I don’t know how much it’s going to cost to fix it.”

  “So what you’re saying is, the measurements are off?” Doc set his mug on the sideboard. “By how much?” George and Auggie were silent, trying to process this news.

  “Five feet,” Melinda answered, as Frank and Miriam were struggling with their emotions. “Right over there, just in front of that rack of sweatshirts?” She pointed to the far wall of the store. “According to what we think is the original plat of the town, that’s the real boundary between this lot and the one next door.”

  Doc started in that direction. “So, from here on over,” he gestured with his hands, “you don’t really own any of this? It’s not yours?”

  “What about this building?” George pointed at the ceiling. “What’s it mean for the store as a whole?”

  “We own all of that, thankfully,” Miriam managed to say. “Every expert we’ve consulted is clear about that. All the improvements that sit on our land, including this store, completely belong to us. But the ground under it …” She looked out to where the surveyors were working, their calm efficiency in stark contrast to the storm of emotions inside the store. “It’s not what we thought.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of!” Auggie spat out. “I can’t believe …”

  He turned to Miriam. “Can I speak now, is that OK with you?”

  “Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “As long as you keep it civil. But first, how about you apologize to my husband?”

  Auggie mumbled and Frank shrugged. Melinda wished the rift between Jerry and Frank could be patched up so easily. She wondered when, or if, Jerry would arrive. What if he’d noticed the surveyors and decided to stay away again?

  “So, do you have any idea how this happened?” Auggie measured his words carefully. “Why wasn’t it caught before?”

  “We’re not quite sure.” Frank sighed, still upset but visibly relieved the secret was finally out. “The original map is from 1890, when the town was founded. Miriam’s family purchased this lot in 1894 and built this store. We’ve double-checked our deed, it shows the measurements we always believed to be true.”

  “And your lot hasn’t changed hands since then, so there was no reason to verify your deed.” Doc nodded understandingly. “Any chance that oldest map is wrong?”

  Frank dropped his chin and closed his eyes. “Nope. Bill and I took a rough measurement, and it appears to add up. That’s what started that whole rumor about the sidewalks. We kept it going to give us some time to figure out what to do. Jerry knows about it, so does Glenn. As for the other city maps, we’ve looked everywhere for something that could prove our hunch is wrong. Jerry and Nancy …”

  “Nancy knew about this, too?” Auggie raised an eyebrow.

  Melinda shot him a look. “She’s the city clerk.”

  “Wait a minute!” Auggie jumped out of his chair. “What about the rest of Main Street, the rest of the town? How do we know everything else is right? My God …”

  “There’s no indication of other errors,” Miriam said gently. “And that makes sense, if you think about it. Something that major would have been caught before now. No, it’s just that one boundary between these two lots. That’s all.”

  “So it’s a small thing,” George said sadly, “that has big consequences for you.”

  “What about the people next door?” Doc asked. “What do they say about all this?”

  “It’s owned by a family trust out of state, in Pennsylvania.” Melinda took a sip of her coffee, and coughed. In his outrage, Auggie must have dumped in more grounds than usual.

  “We’ve sent a certified letter to the trust’s address, and Frank and Miriam’s attorney has left several other messages, but we haven’t heard anything yet. Maybe if we can show we checked things out, in good faith, they’ll be willing to split the cost of making things right.”

  “And if they don’t?” George’s blue eyes went wide. “Who’s going to foot the bill?”

  “We are,” Melinda said quickly.

  “I am.” Frank grumbled and glared at Melinda. “For now.”

  “You know,” Auggie came back from the window, “you shouldn’t have to fight this battle alone. The city messed it up, plain and simple. Whether that was last week or a hundred years ago, they should …”

  “Auggie, don’t you dare …” Miriam shook her head.

  “It’s the truth! People need to be able to trust the city. Someone should have caught this long ago, don’t you think? You shouldn’t …”

  “Wait a minute.” Doc pointed at Auggie. “Ten minutes ago, you were on a tear because you thought the city was spending money to upgrade that sidewalk.”

  “No. It was the secrecy that had me so riled up. Things need to be done out in the open, the city needs to be held accountable. Always. It’s the city’s fault this happened in the first place.”

  “That’s what I said!” Frank leaned forward in his chair. “But no one else wanted to pursue that. I got out-voted.”

  “Why?” Auggie looked from Miriam to Frank, then at Melinda.

  “Do you realize what would happen?” she asked. “We’d probably have to sue the city. The legal bills alone would cost a small fortune, probably more than simply making things right. And where would the city get the money? The taxpayers, everyone in this town.”

  “The very people who keep Prosper Hardware going,” Miriam said quietly.

  “And it would get ugly,” Melinda added. “Worse than it already is.”

  There was silence for a moment. “Let me guess,” George finally said. “This is the reaso
n Jerry hasn’t been here most mornings lately.”

  Doc nodded. “I wondered what the deal was. Something seemed off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “This is the biggest thing to happen in this town in years.” Auggie stared into his coffee cup, then looked over at Frank. “So, what happens now?”

  “Well,” Melinda spoke up, “I think honesty is the best policy. And the simpler the message, the better: We have uncovered a minor discrepancy with our lot. We’re investigating the situation and it will be handled privately, at no expense to this town or its residents. End of story.”

  Frank sighed and crossed his arms.

  Finally, Doc nodded. “She’s right, Frank.”

  “The other part of that message is: Prosper Hardware values its customers,” Melinda continued. “It’s been a cornerstone of this town for generations, and we’re not going to let anything tarnish that legacy. Or jeopardize Frank’s ability to serve on the council.”

  “I don’t know …” Frank started to say.

  There was movement at the front door. The foreman looked cautiously around the group, then turned to Frank and Miriam.

  “Well, I don’t know if this will make you feel better, or worse,” he said finally. “You were right. The lot line’s off by five feet. Actually, five feet, two inches.”

  Melinda felt strangely relieved. Their suspicions were finally confirmed. Now, maybe her family could find a way forward and put the whole mess behind them.

  “How does something like this happen?” Doc asked the surveyor. “It was so long ago, but still, you think they would’ve double-checked their work.”

  “Who knows? But in 1890, there was nothing here but wooden stakes on the prairie, if you will. I would guess the unusual layout of Main Street was part of the problem. Setting it on the diagonal like that, in my opinion, was just asking for trouble.”

  Frank sighed. “Well, there’s plenty of that to go around.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Melinda’s phone ringing before six in the morning would normally have been cause for alarm. But she was already awake, bouncing through her chores like a kid on Christmas morning.

  Glenn was calling from the post office, and his mood was much more subdued. “I hope you’re coming over here the minute you get to town. The newest members of your menagerie have only been here for half an hour, but all that peep, peep, peeping is about to drive me nuts.”

  “They’re here! My chicks are here!” Her shouts startled the ewes, who were waiting for her to dump the grain into their troughs.

  “Is everyone OK? There should be eight of them. What do they look like, exactly? Are they grey, or brown, or yellow? From the website, I wasn’t entirely sure.”

  “Hold on,” Glenn grumbled. Melinda could barely make out the rustle of cardboard under the unrelenting chorus of chirps. “Yep, I see eight there in the box. Huh. They are sort of cute.”

  Melinda dropped the oat scoop into the barrel and did a little dance in the barn aisle. Sunny, watching from the top of the fence, widened his eyes in wonder. “Oh, I can’t wait to see them!”

  “I can’t wait for you to see them, either. And to take them off my hands. This is the third shipment of chicks I’ve had this week. For the last one, the people couldn’t get into town until nearly ten to pick them up.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there before seven. I’ll get them watered and fed as soon as I get them over to the store.”

  “To the store?”

  “Well, I won’t have time to run them home before we open. They’re spending the day at Prosper Hardware. I better go.” The bleats of all of her sheep, the young and the not-so-much, threatened to drown out her voice. “The lambs are getting impatient for their breakfast. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

  Melinda was so proud of her seven little ones, but they were a handful. Her parents and Ed had come by a few days ago to help her wean the babies from their mothers, a task she had been dreading ever since they were born in late February. After the old straw was cleared from the unused side of the barn and fresh bedding spread down, Melinda and her helpers separated each family, one by one. The lambs had each other, but their cries of distress went on for nearly a full day. The mothers were frantic, and called across the aisle to their babies until they were nearly hoarse. In a month or so, once the lambs had gained their independence and their mothers stopped lactating, they would be allowed to rejoin the flock.

  The eight chicks waiting for her at the post office had posed another housing problem, one easily solved by a consultation with Horace. It had been years since there were little chicks at the farm, but he suggested starting with a scrubbed-down wooden box from the root cellar. Melinda added a heat lamp and bedding, and set things up behind the closed door of the basement canning room, safely away from Hobo and the kittens.

  As she hurried through the rest of her morning chores, Melinda hoped she hadn’t gotten too carried away with this new project. She had eight hens already, and they were productive enough to provide herself and a few regular buyers with plenty of eggs during the warmer months of the year. This move would double her feed costs, as well as her flock. What if she couldn’t find enough egg buyers?

  But she’d seen so many cute baby chicks online, and Auggie had told her how much his customers that owned heritage chickens earned for a dozen eggs. In the end it was George, who had brought his chickens to town when he and Mary retired a few years ago, who inspired Melinda to place her order.

  “It’s one of the things I miss most in the spring,” he had said wistfully one morning. “I don’t know which part was more fun. You have to choose how many chicks to order, and which breeds to get. Then you can’t wait for them to arrive. And oh, when you finally go to the post office and …”

  “The post office?” Melinda had gasped. “They come to the post office? With the mail?”

  “Of course. They can make it two or three days just fine, right out of the shell. They get nutrients from the yolk, just before they hatch.”

  Auggie had laughed so hard he nearly choked on his coffee. “How did you think they get from the hatchery to your house? They’re too young to drive themselves, you know.”

  ✽✽✽

  Melinda had her pick of spaces in front of the post office at that early hour. Glenn was at the window, watching for her arrival. He disappeared for a moment, and then came around the counter with a perforated cardboard box in his arms.

  “Am I glad to see you!” He barely broke his stride and nodded for Melinda to hold the front door. “Where will they go?” he said over his shoulder.

  She ran ahead and popped the hatchback. “In the back here. They should just fit.”

  “You’ve got quite the stash of supplies along.” A large plastic tote, which would serve as a temporary brooder box, held a sack of bedding, a heat lamp, two tiny feed pans and a small waterer. “So Miriam’s really OK with this, having the chicks at the store all day?”

  “She doesn’t mind.” Melinda tried to peer through the window for a better look at her newest babies. All she could see through the box’s air holes was some pale-yellow and cream fluff. “And I couldn’t sneak them in if I tried. It’s not like they’d be a secret for long.”

  “That’s the truth. You know, you still might have time to run them home before the store opens, if you hurry.”

  “I want to keep a close eye on them today. I really want this to go well, Glenn. I don’t want to lose any.”

  Glenn’s irritation gave way to encouragement. “Well, they all made it here safely, in the middle of the night, in the back of a mail truck. I’m sure they’ll do just fine. And you know,” he grinned, “these little guys will be a nice distraction for people, something to talk about other than that mess with the store’s lot.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.” Melinda sighed as she opened the car door. “Too bad they can’t stay at the store indefinitely, then.”

  The startling sight of
a survey crew pacing along Main Street had caused the gossip mill to churn almost immediately. Many of Prosper Hardware’s customers wanted to add their two cents’ worth, whether it was to express outrage or concern, or to rail against the city or bureaucracy in general. Melinda’s talking points came in handy, gave her a script to stick to. The landowners next door were still silent, but she decided it was a blessing they were halfway across the country. The situation was awkward enough; how bad would it have been if they were local residents?

  She parked by the store’s front door for once, as it gave her the shortest route inside for the chicks and their gear. She hoped the tote would fit inside the half-walled alcove behind the oak counter, but found the space was too tight, and she didn’t want herself or Bill to trip over the birds. Instead, she slid over a display on the other side of the partition to make a nice gap for the chicks’ container. A nail already tacked in the beadboard paneling was the perfect place to hang the heat lamp.

  George shuffled in, and grinned when he heard the little birds’ chirps. “Oh, the chicks are here!”

  He hooked his canvas coat on the hall tree by the sideboard, but left on his green “Prosper Hardware” twill cap, one of the first purchased from the display of store merchandise. Melinda could barely keep the small rack by the register stocked, and it had already brought in a surprising amount of revenue.

  “Hey there, little guys!” George leaned over the plastic tote, a look of wonder on his face. “They’re so cute when they’re small like that. All those downy feathers.”

  “Don’t try to get down on the floor,” Melinda cautioned him. “You might not be able to get up again.” But she was beaming from ear to ear.

  George shooed her away with one hand, but straightened his back. “Oh, I miss the days when I could in there with the chicks. Can I hold one?”

  “Of course.” Melinda gently lifted one ball of fluff from the box and placed it in her elderly friend’s hands. Then she scooped up a second chick and cradled it in her palm. The tiny bird tipped its head at a questioning angle, and focused one dark eye on her face.