Just Killing Time (22 page)

W
e had arrived at the cottage long before our conversation ended, and we both realized at the same moment we were just sitting in the idling car. The light was beginning to dim, but it would be a while before it was dark.

“I should get the mail,” Caroline said.

“I'll get it.”

I walked down to the end of the driveway and reached into the mailbox, hauling out a large stack of cards and a few bills. I flipped through, checking addresses. Condolence cards.

As I walked back to the cottage, I looked to my left, out at the lake. I walked over to the side yard and stared out. The old dock had been replaced by a wider one, with steps leading down to it from a deck. It wasn't a huge body of water, but it was the site of many happy memories of my childhood. There
was enough movement in the water that it wasn't stagnant, and it was perfect for swimming in the summer and skating in the winter. I noted the two Adirondack chairs on the deck, and pictured Caroline and G.T. sitting out there in the evening. That image made me happier than the idea of him sitting alone. Caroline had been good for him.

There was a large grill covered in the corner of the deck. Flower boxes were on each corner, and I noticed the flower beds throughout the yard. The inside of the house may have basically looked the same, but outside Caroline had infused some of her personality into the place with a few changes. Lovely changes. I stood for a minute and took it all in.

When I finally turned back to the house, I saw Caroline's shadow in the kitchen doorway. She held the door open for me as I walked up the side deck and through the doorway.

“The decks are wonderful,” I said. “They must be great in the summer.”

“My son, Levi, built them,” she said. “He made the mistake of saying he was bored one summer day, and so Thom suggested a few projects.”

I laughed. “Never admit boredom to G.T. I learned that one the hard way myself. How did he decide to build decks?”

“I'd mentioned that it would be nice to be able to sit outside. So, the first project was this deck, off the kitchen. Levi took it on, poured the foundation footers, and built it. Pat oversaw the work, but Levi did it himself. It was a real turning point for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He'd been lost for so long, but doing a project like this was a tonic for him. It was also good to have two older men
mentoring him. He'd missed having a father around, more than I realized. Levi, with Pat's help, came up with the dock and deck project the next summer, and Thom approved it.”

“He's good. I never would have thought of the deck by the dock, but it looks like it's been there forever,” I said, admiring the solid craftsmanship.

“He is talented.” Caroline smiled. “Of course, I'm his mother, so I'm not impartial.”

“He lives in Vermont?”

“He's studying to be a landscape architect.”

“If this is any indication, he's got a future. I look forward to meeting him. Do you think he can make it down for the memorial service?”

“He won't make it to the one on Saturday. He's been invited to a conference in Oregon this weekend and Thom wouldn't want him to miss the opportunity, especially for his memorial service.”

“I can hear G.T. now. He'd definitely want Levi to get back to learning. He made me go back to school right after my grandmother died. He told me the best way to honor her memory was to keep moving forward.”

“Once we have plans firmed up, he'll come down. He thought the world of Thom. He was the closest thing to a father Levi ever had. He would have come down with me now, but he's still recovering, and trying to catch up with his schoolwork before he takes some more time off.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” I said. I handed Caroline the stack of mail. “Did Pat leave any messages on the house phone?”

“No, he didn't,” Caroline said. “I'm worried about him,
of course. But I also need my car. I wanted to do some food shopping and pick up a prescription over in Marytown. It can wait until later this week, I suppose.”

“Does G.T. still have a bike?”

“In the summer, yes. Getting to town on a bike is actually easier in some ways.”

“I remember. I loved biking around Orchard when I was growing up. You could get anywhere. Listen, is the bike in decent shape? How about if I borrow it and ride back to town? You use my car to run your errands. And then once Pat brings back your car, we can switch?”

“I can't ask you to do that,” Caroline said.

“I'm offering. You're not asking.”

“It would make my life a little easier. I could even go over to Marytown tonight. If you're sure you don't mind?”

“I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it,” I said.

“Thank you so much. Now, come in and see the clock. I'll find the pictures we took of the Winters' house when all the clocks were in place.”

We walked into the living room, then through to the three-season porch. The windows were down, and the sunny day had heated it up nicely. I knew from experience it would cool off quickly in the evening and was useless in the winter months. There was a long window seat under the window, with storage underneath. Caroline walked over, took off one of the cushions, and lifted the seat. She reached in and lifted a bundle gingerly. I still heard a clanking sound. We both winced.

She put it on a side table and unwrapped it carefully. I sucked in my breath when I saw it. A real beauty. Caroline was right—it looked like it was dated from the mid-1800s.
I turned it gently and looked at the back of the clock. The mechanisms were all there, and looked original. I turned it back around and put it on the coffee table. I tried to open the front door. The handle was missing.

“Why is it out here?”

“It's ridiculous, I know. But being here alone, thinking about what happened, just in case it has anything to do with the clocks, I just thought I should hide it when I'm not here.” She turned away, embarrassed. “See, I told you it is ridiculous.”

“No, it isn't. I'll grab some photos, from all sides, so I can do some research on it. See if we can come up with anything.” I took out my phone and snapped a few photographs. “There we go. Why don't you put it back and I'll take a closer look at it tomorrow.” I ran my hand along the top of the clock. I looked out at the lake and the setting sun. I ached to take the clock back to the Cog & Sprocket with me, but carrying it on a bicycle wasn't practical. And I'd already offered my car. “Would it be all right if I went out and looked in the barn?”

“Of course. Pat's getting you a set of keys made. Oh my, maybe that's where he is? Never mind that for now. Take mine. The code is 654321.”

“Code?”

“Thom had an alarm system put in while I was gone. He was going to have one put in the shop next month. But since Ben was right next door he decided to spend the money here first.”

“Then wouldn't it make sense to put the clock out there too?”

“As Jeff Paisley said, the alarm might not stop them from stealing, but it will stop them from stealing as much. I couldn't bear the idea of losing this one.”

“I get it. Were all the clocks in this kind of shape?”

“All as stunning.”

“Wow. I should be going before it gets too much darker out.”

“The bike's in the barn, and there should be a pump nearby. I'll meet you out there. Let me grab the photos of the Winters' house. It's a good thing your purse can go across your body like that. It will be easier to ride with it.”

My purse, as she called it, was my usual courier bag that had been made out of oilcloth. At least she didn't call it my hipster Mary Poppins bag. Since riding a bike was my transportation of choice in Boston, the fact that it was bike friendly was not a coincidence.

We always called the workshop out at the cottage the barn, even though the only animal that had ever lived in there was the occasional field mouse, who was usually displaced by a visit from the family cat. But when it was being built, my grandfather got a permit by calling it a barn, a normal home appendage out here in the Berkshires. A place of business wasn't. It was splitting hairs, but since G.T. considered the barn an expansion of the Cog & Sprocket workroom, he was more than willing to split the hair. And Grover Winter, chairman of the board at the time, was willing to let him. The barn was where the woodworking and restoration work was done, and larger pieces were stored. I often dreamed of a space this size to do my own work.

I turned on the lights in the barn. As I looked on the neat and ordered workbench, I wished I'd inherited the organization gene from my grandfather. Horology required order, but my order was often found in chaos. I always knew where everything was, but anyone else would be lost. Not so with
G.T.'s workbench. Visor, lights, tools, parts, all lined up to be used.

In the middle of the workbench there was a large wooden box fastened on two sides with brass hooks. I swung them aside and lifted the lid carefully. The glass dome of the clock was opaque in the light, so I refocused it to better take a look. A Harrison sea clock, in skeleton form so the genius of the design could be fully appreciated. Modern built, but based on the eighteenth-century clockmaker's original. Gold- and rhodium-plated parts. Incredibly fine work. Stunning details. The clock itself almost looked like a little man, feet firmly planted, accurately telling the time. The glass dome had a keyhole so it could be wound every week without lifting the lid, but the fingerprints on the glass indicated a far greater curiosity of the workings of the clock itself. I put on the visor, added the extra headlamp to fight the late afternoon gloom, and looked the clock over.

I looked back at the lid and noticed the note taped inside at the top.
This is the key to it all. Best, Grover.
I carefully lifted the note and saw the insignia of a famous English clockmaker. Well, famous in my circles. I made a mental note, but didn't have to write the name down. I'd drooled over their work several times when I was a student in London and had spent six weeks as an apprentice in their shop. I'd e-mail them tonight. I'm not sure what I'd ask, but maybe they had the next clue in whatever scavenger hunt Grover Winter had put in motion. I put the lid back on the clock, and fastened it. I decided to use the Caroline method of security and hide it in plain sight. I put it on the shelf underneath the workbench and covered it with a dusting cloth I found.

I went over to the workbench to put it back in order, and
to turn off the lights. In the corner of the shop, out of the direct light, I saw a building model and walked over to it. I used my cell phone as a flashlight to take a closer look. It was a model of the old Town Hall, with the tower restored. This model was built out of wood, with painted details that made it very identifiable as the current Town Hall, just spruced up a bit. G.T. had gone farther than we had on the paper model, adding the clock in full detail. There were doors and miniatures of figures on the front. I walked over and lifted the roof of the Town Hall. The inner workings were indicated in scale as well. The Clagan clock dream was a 3-D model. I took out my cell phone and snapped several pictures from all different angles and then did a panoramic by walking around it.

I glanced outside. It was getting dark fast and I needed to get back to town. I found the bike right where Caroline said it would be. I checked the tires, which were fine, and rolled it out of the shop. At the last minute I grabbed G.T.'s helmet and put it on. I set the alarm and closed the door, double-checking it was locked behind me. I turned and saw Caroline approaching.

“I was just looking at the model,” I said.

“Thom's Folly, that's what your grandfather called it.” I smiled, but didn't laugh. One man's folly had become his granddaughter's dream. The Town Hall needed to have its clock tower restored.

“I didn't come across the Seth Thomas black Adamantine that we were talking about earlier, but I couldn't help but take a look at the Harrison sea clock on the bench. I hid it underneath the workbench for now. I'd love to take a closer look at it later.”

“You should use it in the shop, Ruth, as a display piece. It's as much fun to watch it work as it is a timepiece.”

“Can you imagine how brilliant John Harrison must have been, to be able to invent such an accurate timepiece two hundred and fifty years ago?”

“Of course, it was only when he turned to making watches that the accuracy at sea was truly achieved.”

“You know your history,” I said, surprised.

Caroline laughed. “No one could help but become fascinated by the history when you spent any time at all with Thom. Anyway, the clock was a posthumous gift to Thom by Grover. I think that Grover bought it specifically for Thom. It didn't really go with any of their other collections. Speaking of which”—Caroline handed me a book—“here are the clock collections from the Winters' house.”