Frame Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 5) by Joe Reese, T Gracie Reese Page B
Authors: Joe Reese, T Gracie Reese
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money in that, but…”
She pursed her lips:
“The worst thing is the situation at home, on the farm.”
“You are,” Nina interjected, “from…”
“Georgia. East of Atlanta. North of Athens.”
“I remember Margot telling me that.”
“Yes. The farm has been in our family for a long time. The longest time. But my mother died prematurely some years ago, and my father is now in ill health. Whether we can keep the land or not…”
From somewhere in the center of town, the wail of a siren could be heard.
“Well, anyway, I’ve got to do something. The only possibility is to go back to Chicago and look for something secretarial. I don’t have too much experience at that sort of thing, but surely if they see my background they might…”
“Stay here,” said someone seated at the table.
It was Nina.
Margot and Carol looked at her.
Then Margot nodded:
“Of course. Of course, Carol. Stay here in Bay St. Lucy.”
“But––but…”
“Child, it makes perfect sense. You can help Nina out at Elementals. I can’t pay you a great deal, but I’ll bet it will equal what you had been making. You can go back to earning a docent living.”
“But…but…where would I stay?”
Nina leaned forward:
“Stay here.”
Carol looked at her, in something like wonder:
“But you don’t have room!”
“I have a couch that makes into a bed.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course, I won’t mind.”
“What about your cat?”
“Furl will hate you for a while, but he isn’t the one who makes the big decisions.”
More wine followed.
Then a second bottle.
And thus it was determined:
Carol Walker was to be a citizen of Bay St. Lucy.
CHAPTER FIVE: GETTING TO KNOW YOU
The following weeks were idyllic ones for Nina. Carol Walker slipped into her life like a well-oiled bespectacled little piston, which chugged away quietly and efficiently as it worked within the machine that was daily life in Bay St. Lucy.
She took possession of the couch and made a bed of it, having at least six inches of upholstery to spare after stretching out her slightly more than five-foot frame.
She somehow made friends with Furl, an astonishing feat, but one which could not be doubted after seeing the animal stretched out and purring on her lap as she sat mornings with Nina on the deck above the beach, chatting about this and that, softly scratching cat dorsal hair with her small white fingers.
She made friends also with Signor and Signora Bagatelli, who, during her first few morning visits to their bakery, behaved in a manner so polite and courteous as to evince deep mistrust; but who, after slightly more than a week’s time and five trips’ worth of poppy seed bagels, began to ignore her completely as they shouted insults at each other and threw up their hands in the despairing gestures that were their morning routine.
She repeated some of the things Margot had already told Nina, but in more detail, and in language that painted portraits as she talked.
“I loved our farm. Still do, I suppose. My father raised sheep there. I can remember walking out in the pastures, very early in the mornings. There was always a blue mist rising up out of the valleys, and you could hear mourning doves cooing in the pine thickets.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“No. Just me. A Daddy’s girl. I was a tomboy, always outside, always climbing trees. Sometimes in winters, the snow was pretty deep, and I would go cross country skiing. Not many real friends. Just a kind of loner.”
“College?”
“Three years at the university. Then I had a chance to study in Europe. My father cried when I left, but they knew it was the chance of a lifetime.”
“Where did you go?”
A big smile then, and slightly more animated petting of Furl, who seemed to be envisioning the life that was being recounted along with Nina.
“Arrrgghhh,” he said, meaning “Go on.”
“Vienna.”
“Aha.”
“From the most remote mountains of Georgia
She pursed her lips:
“The worst thing is the situation at home, on the farm.”
“You are,” Nina interjected, “from…”
“Georgia. East of Atlanta. North of Athens.”
“I remember Margot telling me that.”
“Yes. The farm has been in our family for a long time. The longest time. But my mother died prematurely some years ago, and my father is now in ill health. Whether we can keep the land or not…”
From somewhere in the center of town, the wail of a siren could be heard.
“Well, anyway, I’ve got to do something. The only possibility is to go back to Chicago and look for something secretarial. I don’t have too much experience at that sort of thing, but surely if they see my background they might…”
“Stay here,” said someone seated at the table.
It was Nina.
Margot and Carol looked at her.
Then Margot nodded:
“Of course. Of course, Carol. Stay here in Bay St. Lucy.”
“But––but…”
“Child, it makes perfect sense. You can help Nina out at Elementals. I can’t pay you a great deal, but I’ll bet it will equal what you had been making. You can go back to earning a docent living.”
“But…but…where would I stay?”
Nina leaned forward:
“Stay here.”
Carol looked at her, in something like wonder:
“But you don’t have room!”
“I have a couch that makes into a bed.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course, I won’t mind.”
“What about your cat?”
“Furl will hate you for a while, but he isn’t the one who makes the big decisions.”
More wine followed.
Then a second bottle.
And thus it was determined:
Carol Walker was to be a citizen of Bay St. Lucy.
CHAPTER FIVE: GETTING TO KNOW YOU
The following weeks were idyllic ones for Nina. Carol Walker slipped into her life like a well-oiled bespectacled little piston, which chugged away quietly and efficiently as it worked within the machine that was daily life in Bay St. Lucy.
She took possession of the couch and made a bed of it, having at least six inches of upholstery to spare after stretching out her slightly more than five-foot frame.
She somehow made friends with Furl, an astonishing feat, but one which could not be doubted after seeing the animal stretched out and purring on her lap as she sat mornings with Nina on the deck above the beach, chatting about this and that, softly scratching cat dorsal hair with her small white fingers.
She made friends also with Signor and Signora Bagatelli, who, during her first few morning visits to their bakery, behaved in a manner so polite and courteous as to evince deep mistrust; but who, after slightly more than a week’s time and five trips’ worth of poppy seed bagels, began to ignore her completely as they shouted insults at each other and threw up their hands in the despairing gestures that were their morning routine.
She repeated some of the things Margot had already told Nina, but in more detail, and in language that painted portraits as she talked.
“I loved our farm. Still do, I suppose. My father raised sheep there. I can remember walking out in the pastures, very early in the mornings. There was always a blue mist rising up out of the valleys, and you could hear mourning doves cooing in the pine thickets.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“No. Just me. A Daddy’s girl. I was a tomboy, always outside, always climbing trees. Sometimes in winters, the snow was pretty deep, and I would go cross country skiing. Not many real friends. Just a kind of loner.”
“College?”
“Three years at the university. Then I had a chance to study in Europe. My father cried when I left, but they knew it was the chance of a lifetime.”
“Where did you go?”
A big smile then, and slightly more animated petting of Furl, who seemed to be envisioning the life that was being recounted along with Nina.
“Arrrgghhh,” he said, meaning “Go on.”
“Vienna.”
“Aha.”
“From the most remote mountains of Georgia
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