“Helen. I’m a de facto member of the city council.”
“Oh, she’s cleared to talk about it. I could use some ideas. I want to do an elaborate piece but what elements go into putting it together are eluding me.” Could it be because she still had the monster process in Chicago stuck in her brain?
The teacher’s thoughtful gaze traced over the drawing in front of her. “The trick is to start. It’s true of writing. I’ve been helping Gage Caldwell with his next book, and I love the process.”
Summer wasn’t sure what to say. Mrs. Heigl couldn’t help with art. Or could she?
The idea bloomed.
Mrs. Heigl stopped mid-sentence and gave her the strict look made famous in English class when you were not paying attention. “You have an idea, right?”
“Yeah. I do.”
She clapped her hands and cackled. “You used to get the same expression in high school, and I’d find you off in a corner scribbling in your art book after class.”
Summer smiled. Some memories were forever. “Next time I get stuck on an idea, I’m finding you.”
“Funny, dear. Gage says the same thing.”
Myrna stopped at the table with tea for the teacher.
Summer studied the way Myrna weaved through the crowd, balancing coffee and dirty dishes on her way back to the kitchen. “Gotta draw that woman one of these days,” she muttered.
“I agree. Nobody ever notices how hard she works. She deserves a medal. She keeps track of most of the elderly in town and whether they’re eating or not.”
Summer squashed the original idea and studied Myrna with new eyes. People had so many layers, and she’d learned to go deeper long ago.
“How many are there?” She shifted back to Mrs. Heigl.
“You mean besides me? I eat here more than I do in my own kitchen. Hazards of being single. There’s several dozen.”
“I used to eat alone a lot, too. But mostly I was painting or drawing and didn’t care.”
“But now you do.” Mrs. Heigl’s blue eyes deepened in color, enthralling her, but also forcing her to spill her guts.
“I adore my husband, so yes. I was worried our connection suffered while I was gone, but we’re solid.”
“Tom’s that kind of man. One woman for him, and it is you.”
Summer propped an elbow on the table and tucked a hand under her chin. “You are very observant.”
“I had all these people in my classroom. They’re like family. Clem opened this restaurant the same year I started teaching here. I worked part-time as a waitress on weekends while Mr. Heigl and me were saving money to buy our house.”
Summer took a sip of her hot chocolate. “I didn’t know that. I guess when I was a teenager fighting with my grandfather over my art, I wasn’t paying attention to my teachers’ histories.”
“Well, of course not, but you are going to paint a mural. I’m assuming you want to capture the essence of this town.”
“Of course.”
“Olivia Applegate, Mayor Helen, Garrett Slade, Coach Gutherie, Alexander Murray, Rafe Lopez, the Caldwell family – I could make you a list. All these people have deep family history here. Talk to Gage sometime about who is buried in the town cemetery.”
Stunned, Summer mulled the idea. It wasn’t about the generic town history she’d been reading at the library. Some of Adelina’s stories had hinted at the backstory, but this held the passion. It was about families and how they shaped the community yesterday, today, and in the future.
“Thanks, Mrs. Heigl.”
“I do wish you’d call me Lucille. I’m not your teacher anymore.”
Summer grinned. “Seems like you still are.”
