She couldn’t work at the paper mill, not even nights, if she had another baby. For better or worse, she needed a husband.
Greta whimpered in her crib.
“You’re going to be all right,” Izzy whispered, brushing back her daughter’s curls.
Greta opened her eyes, then reached up and gently wiped away one of Izzy’s tears.
29:Harper
“How can I help?” the woman who answered the phone at Winfield Funeral Home asked warmly, practiced and prepared to comfort any caller.
Harper introduced herself. “I’m trying to track down an obituary, but I don’t know when the man died.”
“A relative?”
“No.” The honking from a flock of geese drowned Harper’s voice. Even though Harper was sitting on the Suttons’ screened-in porch, the roar overhead was deafening. She tried to block the sound with her hands before she spoke again. “He taught at Winfield College and I believe he was married to a novelist named Via Belle.”
Ingrid didn’t seem to know the first name of Eli’s mentor or if Professor Farrow was related to Simon Farrow, but with the same surname, Harper thought the best place to begin searching for Olivia’s husband was in Winfield.
“Our funeral home has been here for a hundred and some odd years, the only one in the whole county, so I should be able to find the info.” She tapped on a keyboard. “What was the husband’s name?”
“Simon Farrow.”
“Oh, I remember Dr. Farrow.”
Harper straightened in the patio chair, the geese gone. “You knew him?”
“Well, not personally, but his funeral was unforgettable. He died sometime in the 1960s.”
Fortunately, the woman kept talking, because Harper wasn’t certain how to respond to the many detours in her head. First, the woman remembered Simon, so either he hadn’t vanished like Olivia or somehow she’d managed to hide away with him in Ohio.
Second, how strange it was, the thought of this woman caring for hundreds after their life departed, not ever hearing their voices or knowing their quirks or being able to ask them a single question.
Did she wonder about their stories? Harper would create a journey for every one of them from childhood until their last day on this earth.
Third—was Olivia’s husband the same professor who mentored Eli in the late 1940s? If so, did she introduce them?
“Dr. Farrow was well regarded in Winfield. Standing room only at his service.” More clicking in the background. “Sadly, we don’t always get that, and I think... well, it doesn’t really matter what I think. It won’t take me long to check our files. Can you hold on?”
“I sure can.” The engraved piece from Ashe Lake flickered in her mind. Had Simon returned to Haven House before or after Via disappeared? If he died twenty years after her disappearance and his obituary mentioned his wife and perhaps a child or two, she wouldn’t need Finn Sterling to discover what happened to Olivia.
Two minutes later, the woman was back on the line. “Found it!”
“That’s impressive.”
“All part of my job.” The woman laughed. “The owners here are meticulous about our records. You want me to send the obituary to you?”
“If it’s not too long, would you mind reading it now?”
“How ’bout I give you the highlights and then mail you a copy?”
“Perfect.”
“Let’s see.” A blue jay swooped low in front of the porch screen and sailed over Marcia’s flower beds as the woman began to read. “Simon Clarence Farrow was born in Mansfield.”
Simon Farrow. He must be the same man that Olivia married.
“Born in 1882 and died in Cincinnati in 1968,” the woman continued. “Apparently he wanted to be buried in Winfield.”
