“Oh, good morning, Mr. Mayor. How are you?”
“Fine. Brought you some coffee,” he said, offering her a paper cup. “Milk and sugar, right?”
“Oh, how thoughtful. Thank you,” she said, setting her dusting wand aside. “You found both milkandsugar?”
“Being mayor has its privileges,” he grinned, unbuttoning his overcoat. “I wanted to ask you about Goldie Maraschino’s visit of the other day.”
“Yes. Nice young lady,” she noted.
Banyan took a sip of his coffee. “What did you two talk about?”
“Oh, all the usual things I talk about with folks,” the old woman replied, sipping her coffee. “The mining history, the artifacts, she was quite taken with the model of town, but then, everybody is.”
“Was she interested in anything specific?” he asked.
The white-haired woman thought for a moment. “No… I don’t think so. She asked about the Maynard operation and the director’s house, and I told her about a woman who committed suicide there in 1902. But I doubt that’s going to wind up in her story. It was just one of those little side bits of trivia.”
“Hhm,” he nodded, not particularly pleased she had shared that. “Anything else?”
The old woman took another sip of coffee and thought for a moment.
“Well, she did ask about—” she was interrupted by a middle-aged couple coming through the front door.
“Hello,” the woman of the couple greeted. “Is this the Sparkledove Historical Society?”
“It sure is,” Harriette said, setting her coffee down. “How can I help you?”
“We’re from Wyoming and wanted to learn something about the town,” the man said.
“We’ve got neighbors who have been here before, and they just went on and on about Sparkledove.”
“Well, that’s great to hear,” the mayor beamed. “Welcome. This lovely lady can tell you anything you need to know about the town and our upcoming events, like a big Christmas dance tomorrow night if you’re staying over.”
He looked at his associate. “Harriette, I’ll leave you to it. Again, folks, very glad you’re here.”
Taking his paper cup, he stepped over to the door and exited.
“Goodbye, Mr. Mayor,” Harriette called. “Thank you again for the coffee.”
“The mayor,” the woman said, raising impressed eyebrows and looking at her husband.
As Banyan walked through the still-falling snow to his realty office, he was more or less satisfied that Goldie and Harriette hadn’t spoken of anything significant that might interfere with his plans.
Twenty-One
DRUNK ON POWER
It stopped snowing about noon, and by 3:00 p.m., most of the town’s merchants had shoveled the plank sidewalks in front of their stores. So, Goldie walked down to Clara’s in search of some information. Even though it was a weekday, there was a war on, and Christmas was still twenty-two days away, the stores of Sparkledove were busy. The town had a great reputation for boutique shopping and nostalgic surroundings, although nobody really used the term “boutique shopping” in 1942.
Upon entering Clara’s Gifts, Goldie had to wait a few minutes to speak with the store’s proprietor. Both Clara and another woman in her early fifties, whom Goldie had never seen before, were busy assisting customers. So, she contented herself by looking around while the radio played “Winter Wonderland.” Finally though, Clara came over to her wearing baggy slacks and a sweater.
“What can I do for you, honey?”
“Maddie at the hotel says you’re a whiz with gingerbread houses and have even judged the annual gingerbread house competition.”
“True,” she said. “I’ve also won it three times. But I haven’t entered in recent years. I mean, how many times do you have to climb Mount Elbert to prove you know what you’re doing?”
“Mount Elbert?”
