there’s a bank buyout in the works, this is big news.” I ignored Vida’s scowl. “I need background on the family.”
Vida refused to address the issue. Instead, she asked if Leo had gotten his financial life straightened out at the bank. I assured her he had, then steered the conversation back to Linda.
Vida removed her glasses and vigorously rubbed her eyes, always a gesture of annoyance or distress. “Ooooh … This is all very silly. The Petersens would never sell out. It would be tantamount to admitting that the town itself is going under.”
I didn’t say anything. My arrival in Alpine had coincided with the downturn in the timber industry. Since then, Front Street had become dotted with FOR RENT signs. Some of the vacancies were caused by businesses that had moved to the mall, but others had simply failed. Not only had Buzzy’s BP gone belly-up, but so had the Chinese-American restaurant in the same block, a gift shop, a feed merchant, a pet store, and a building contractor. I waited for Vida to face reality.
“After high school, Linda went to Everett Junior College.” Vida put her glasses back on and gave me a lookof resignation. “During the summers, she worked for her father as a teller. She had a very unhappy romance with a boy from Gold Bar. They called off the wedding less than a month before they were to be married. Linda has always been difficult. She married Howard Lindahl on the rebound and moved to Everett. She was—what?—twenty-three, I think. They had a daughter who must be about twelve. Howard worked for one of the mills over there, but later he started his own cabinetry business. That was before the divorce, which was three years ago, just after you moved to Alpine. Linda came back here and went to work for her father again, first as a teller, then as his bookkeeper when Alma Olson retired. Howard has custody of young Alison.” Daintily Vida sipped her tea.
“Interesting. Why?”
“I can only guess.” Vida set the cup down with great care. “Howard’s remarried, for one thing. Linda never struck me as very maternal. I’ve always suspected that Alison was a mistake. When Linda and Howard broke up, I think she wanted to be free of responsibility.”
“Men?”
Vida frowned, then poured more tea for both of us. “Possibly. Though Linda was never what we used to call boy-crazy. Still, she’s fond of men. Unfortunately, they haven’t always been fond of her—not after they get to know the real Linda.”
“Prickly,” I murmured. Unlucky, maybe. That’s how I preferred to describe myself. “Maybe I shouldn’t assume the worst about Linda being at the motel.”
“Why not? I always do. I’m rarely wrong.” Vida’s tone was matter-of-fact.
We were silent for a moment. My mind’s eye traveled back to the bank. “Say, Vida, why is there an empty medallion on the bank wall?”
Vida looked puzzled. I elaborated. “Ah.” She dabbed at her lips with a paper napkin. “The Silent Partner. I’d forgotten about that. The medallion, I mean. Someone—I never knew who—invested money in the original bank but wouldn’t allow his name—I assume it was a man, being 1930 and all—to be made public. Possibly it was a former Alpiner who had moved away and done well.” She shrugged. “It was, of course, before my time.”
Things that happened before Vida’s time really didn’t count for much. “What about the rest of the family?” I inquired.
Vida was eyeing her stove. Judging from what looked like a faint streak of spaghetti sauce, she hadn’t yet cleaned it. I got the impression that having disposed of Linda’s background, Vida was now anxious to resume her chores.
“You know Larry and his wife, JoAnne. She’s a Bergstrom. Their two boys are away at college. Denise just started at the bank a short time ago. Her only experience has been waiting tables at the Burger Barn and the Icicle Creek Tavern. At least she knows how to make change.” Vida was speaking very
Vida refused to address the issue. Instead, she asked if Leo had gotten his financial life straightened out at the bank. I assured her he had, then steered the conversation back to Linda.
Vida removed her glasses and vigorously rubbed her eyes, always a gesture of annoyance or distress. “Ooooh … This is all very silly. The Petersens would never sell out. It would be tantamount to admitting that the town itself is going under.”
I didn’t say anything. My arrival in Alpine had coincided with the downturn in the timber industry. Since then, Front Street had become dotted with FOR RENT signs. Some of the vacancies were caused by businesses that had moved to the mall, but others had simply failed. Not only had Buzzy’s BP gone belly-up, but so had the Chinese-American restaurant in the same block, a gift shop, a feed merchant, a pet store, and a building contractor. I waited for Vida to face reality.
“After high school, Linda went to Everett Junior College.” Vida put her glasses back on and gave me a lookof resignation. “During the summers, she worked for her father as a teller. She had a very unhappy romance with a boy from Gold Bar. They called off the wedding less than a month before they were to be married. Linda has always been difficult. She married Howard Lindahl on the rebound and moved to Everett. She was—what?—twenty-three, I think. They had a daughter who must be about twelve. Howard worked for one of the mills over there, but later he started his own cabinetry business. That was before the divorce, which was three years ago, just after you moved to Alpine. Linda came back here and went to work for her father again, first as a teller, then as his bookkeeper when Alma Olson retired. Howard has custody of young Alison.” Daintily Vida sipped her tea.
“Interesting. Why?”
“I can only guess.” Vida set the cup down with great care. “Howard’s remarried, for one thing. Linda never struck me as very maternal. I’ve always suspected that Alison was a mistake. When Linda and Howard broke up, I think she wanted to be free of responsibility.”
“Men?”
Vida frowned, then poured more tea for both of us. “Possibly. Though Linda was never what we used to call boy-crazy. Still, she’s fond of men. Unfortunately, they haven’t always been fond of her—not after they get to know the real Linda.”
“Prickly,” I murmured. Unlucky, maybe. That’s how I preferred to describe myself. “Maybe I shouldn’t assume the worst about Linda being at the motel.”
“Why not? I always do. I’m rarely wrong.” Vida’s tone was matter-of-fact.
We were silent for a moment. My mind’s eye traveled back to the bank. “Say, Vida, why is there an empty medallion on the bank wall?”
Vida looked puzzled. I elaborated. “Ah.” She dabbed at her lips with a paper napkin. “The Silent Partner. I’d forgotten about that. The medallion, I mean. Someone—I never knew who—invested money in the original bank but wouldn’t allow his name—I assume it was a man, being 1930 and all—to be made public. Possibly it was a former Alpiner who had moved away and done well.” She shrugged. “It was, of course, before my time.”
Things that happened before Vida’s time really didn’t count for much. “What about the rest of the family?” I inquired.
Vida was eyeing her stove. Judging from what looked like a faint streak of spaghetti sauce, she hadn’t yet cleaned it. I got the impression that having disposed of Linda’s background, Vida was now anxious to resume her chores.
“You know Larry and his wife, JoAnne. She’s a Bergstrom. Their two boys are away at college. Denise just started at the bank a short time ago. Her only experience has been waiting tables at the Burger Barn and the Icicle Creek Tavern. At least she knows how to make change.” Vida was speaking very
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