War and Peas Read Free Page A

pretending to be would probably have acted.”
    Shelley and Jane nodded their agreement, and Shelley added, “As part of the museum’s function, the woman in charge told us a lot about the clothes we were wearing and how we would have lived, and suggested ‘roles.’ I was the town minister’s wife—“ She looked warningly at Jane, as if her friend might make another joke about that, but Jane kept a straight face and Shelley continued. “And Jane was my cousin whose family had come out to homestead next to our farm. We were taking our tomatoes to market to trade for flour. They made us carry gunnysacks of real tomatoes so we’d know how heavy they were.”
    Mel nodded. “Excuse me for wandering off track for a minute,“ he said to Sharlene, “but I don’t recall any Civil War battles around here. I’m not much of a history buff, but—“
    “It wasn’t meant to be a real battle,“ Sharlene said. Again she was speaking of something about which she was knowledgeable, and her voice and manner were more confident. “Only to give the flavor of what it was like. Lisa Quigley—she does all our publicity and promotion at the Snellen—set it up, so I don’t know a whole lot about it, but I think the reenactors the real ones—based it on some actual battle that took place in Tennessee. They have a club here in Chicago and they like to do this whenever they can. I think some of them spend a fortune on their uniforms and equipment and all, and travel long distances to go to actual sites. But they all have real jobs and can’t do that very often, I imagine. They’re very picky about accuracy otherwise. Even their underwear and the toothbrushes in their packs are either antique items or exact reproductions. That’s why the museum is so strict with the extras. We can’t use bobby pins in our hair or wear makeup. And we have to wear wool stockings like the people did then. I’m sorry. I guess you don’t care about all that right now.“
    “I don’t know what I care about,“ Mel said with an encouraging smile. “I’m just collecting information. You seem to have a lot of it.“
    “Well, I’ve worked at the museum since I finished secretarial school,“ Sharlene said modestly. “I’ve picked things up.“
    “Tell me about the museum, then,“ Mel said. Sharlene briefly repeated what was in the brochure Jane had read earlier. “Miss Daisy Snellen inherited all her grandfather’s money that he made from peas. When she died a couple years ago, she left most of it to the museum board of directors. It had grown to around ten million dollars.”
    Mel whistled softly.
    Sharlene nodded agreement. “Most of it was invested, and part of it was used to hire an architect to—“ She stopped suddenly. “Oh, Mr. Abbot! Poor Mr. Abbot!“
    “Who’s that?“ Jane asked.
    “Ms. Palmer’s fiancé. He was the architect who was hired to make the plans for a new museum building. And he and Ms. Palmer fell in love and were supposed to be married this winter. Oh, no! How terrible for him! Somebody has to tell him!“
    “I’m sure someone’s told him about it already,“ Mel said.
    “Or asked him,“ Shelley muttered under her breath to Jane.
    “I have to talk to the others,“ Sharlene said. “Lisa and poor Mr. Abbot. May I go now? Everybody’s going to be so upset, and we’re supposed to have the groundbreaking ceremony tomorrow. Oh, dear!”
    Mel nodded, thanked her for her information, and warned her that he’d probably have more questions for her later on.
    When she’d gone, Jane said, “We’d better get out of here. Everybody’s going to be wanting to change. Mel, what happened out there? Was the woman really shot?“
    “It looks like it. And damned near everybody out there had guns. One poor guy is trying to collect them all now and the reenactors aren’t happy about turning over their weapons. We can’t require them to, only ask them to do so voluntarily, of course, and since most of the weapons are