The Alpine Yeoman Read Free Page B

school schedules will be important five years from now.”
    The idea obviously cheered her. She was smiling as she headed to the front office. Last fall, the Hanson marriage was rocky, with each blaming the other for their childless state. Then, as they considered adoption, Mother Nature stepped in.
    Our conversation reminded me to call Viv Marsden to see if she knew what was going on at her husband’s hatchery. But Viv wasn’t home. I didn’t bother to leave her a message. Milo would find out soon enough. Whether or not he’d remember to call me was another matter. Marriage had not changed the sheriff’s concept of what was news.
    Ten minutes and two more dull editorial starts later, I lectured myself:
This isn’t the Queen’s Speech. Stop pussyfooting around the issue. No, Skykomish County readers don’t like change. Yes, they prefer keeping their money in their pockets. Just say so off the top and go from there
.
    “Keep the change. Make the change. This is what Mayor Fuzzy Baugh is asking of SkyCo residents. Change is good when it costs less than the status quo.” The writing didn’t sparkle, but it might get readers’ attention. I gathered steam and kept typing. I was almost done when Vida returned from wherever she’d been for the past hour and a half.
    “I managed to reach a rapprochement with Maud,” she declared, sitting down in one of my visitor chairs. “I told her that featuring any of those old fools who can stand upright and possibly even move on a dance floor spoke well for the retirement home, especially for the smug and overbearing Lutherans who run it.”
    I grimaced. “Your exact words?”
    “Of course not.” Vida removed the bowler and fluffed up her unruly gray curls. “But that was the gist of it. If I could’vetold her what I really think—which is that the Presbyterians could run a much better facility and in a more thrifty manner. Of course the Lutherans are in the majority, so it can’t be helped. At least we finally have a new permanent minister at our church. I do wish he hadn’t come from Castle Rock. It’ll take him some time to get to know everybody.”
    What Vida meant was that it would take him some time to get to know
everything
about everybody. According to her, the longtime minster, James Purebeck, had not been reluctant to preach about sins that members of his congregation had recently committed. Naturally, Vida knew enough about her fellow Presbyterians to identify who had committed them. But Pastor Purebeck had disgraced himself six months ago by running off to Mukilteo with Daisy McFee, who, according to Vida, had loose morals and had lived in Alpine for only a short time. In my House & Home editor’s eyes, it was hard to tell which was the more serious transgression.
    “Pastor McClelland is fairly young, isn’t he?” I said.
    “Late thirties,” Vida replied. “Or course Pastor Purebeck wasn’t much older when he came here.” She couldn’t hide her disgust. “Maturity apparently only aged his exterior, rather than improving his character.”
    “I believe you wrote that Kenneth McClelland has a wife and two children,” I said to allay further criticism of Purebeck.
    “Yes. They’ve moved into the house next to the church where the Purebecks lived. Of course, it’s owned by the Presbyterians.” She heaved a sigh, her imposing bust straining at the orange-and-blue striped blouse she wore under a black vest. “I noticed Janie Engelman dropped off her latest wedding picture. I wonder where Mickey Borg has gone.”
    “I don’t,” I said. “He’s a jerk.” The words were out of my mouth before I remembered that Mickey had fathered the first two of Holly Gross’s three children. Or so Vida had told mewhen she’d revealed that the third and youngest one belonged to Roger. “By the way,” I said hastily, to change the subject, “Father Kelly announced at Mass yesterday that he’ll be gone this week to visit family in Houston. We’ll have a