“Sure, I’d like that. Just give me a few minutes to freshen up, and I’ll be ready to go.”
They opted to walk; the fire hall wasn’t far. Several women were already there when they arrived. Judging by the instant cease in conversation, Bree guessed she was the primary topic.
“Ladies, this is Gabriella De Rossi, the reporter I was telling you about,” Martha announced and then proceeded to introduce each of the women there.
One of them Bree recognized as the librarian from earlier that morning.
“Bree, please.”
“You’ve already met Agnes Miller,” Martha said, confirming that these women were in fact key players in the Sumneyville gossip vine. “That’s Mona Delvecchio, Edith and Lydia Schaeffer, and Winona Mitchell.”
Bree nodded and greeted each of them in turn. They were older than Martha—the median age probably around seventy or so. Unlike the men of Sanctuary, the women of the Ladies Auxiliary were exactly as Bree had pictured them.
All were actively involved in meal prep and wearing aprons that covered them neck to knees. Winona was adding spices to rings of sausage in roasting pans. Agnes was kneading dough on a floured surface. Edith and Lydia, who appeared to be identical twins, were expertly peeling and chopping a colorful array of vegetables that looked as if they’d come straight from a farm.
The only exception was the woman introduced as Mona, who sat, perched on a stool in the corner, and didn’t actually appear to be doing anything. She reminded Bree of a queen presiding over her court.
“Bree is interested in learning about Sumneyville for her article,” Martha said.
“I thought you said she was investigating Sanctuary,” said one of the twins.
Again with the investigating. Why exactly did the locals believe Sanctuary warranted an investigation?
Bree picked up the same wary vibe from the others as she had from Martha whenever the subject arose.
“There’s never just one angle to a story,” Bree said carefully, “and I like to get the whole picture.”
Her guess paid off.
They nodded, murmuring variations of, “Yes, absolutely.”
“You were up there today, weren’t you?” asked Mona.
Bree glanced at Martha, who avoided her gaze. “Yes, I was.”
“And what did you think?”
“It was very scenic.” In more ways than one.
“Well, it was quite the popular resort at one time,” commented Edith. At least, Bree thought it was Edith. She and Lydia had changed places, and it was difficult to tell them apart.
“What happened to the resort?”
“A horrible fire. We were quite surprised Matthew wanted to return at all.”
The name was instantly familiar. “Matthew? Matt Winston?”
“Yes, his family owned and operated the place for years before they ...” Winona said before she lowered her head and made the sign of the cross. “So tragic, to lose his entire family like that.”
Before Bree could ask more about that, Mona asked, “Did they actually show you around?”
“They gave me a tour of the facilities and the grounds, yes.”
“I’m sure they didn’t show her everything,” Agnes murmured. “Only what they wanted her to see.”
“Did you see Kate while you were there?” asked Lydia with interest.
Unsure if it was the same Kate she’d met, Bree said, “I did speak with a woman named Kate, yes. She runs the kitchen.”
“That would be our Kate,” Edith said with a nod. “Such a sweet girl. She used to cook with us before she took up with them. And of course, she was always such a help with her father’s store. Tell me, does she look okay?”
“She’s fine,” snapped Agnes before Bree could answer, flashing Edith a warning look. “Kate made her choice.”
“Enough!” Mona sharply commanded.
They obediently clamped their lips shut, though a few angry glances were cast about. Bree had the feeling much more would have been said if she weren’t there, which was a shame because it sounded like a very interesting story. She made a mental note to pursue that at another time—when Agnes and Mona weren’t present.
“So, tell me about what you’re doing here,” Bree said brightly, changing the subject. “Ms. McGillicuddy tells me the Ladies Auxiliary gets together several times a week to prepare meals for the community.”
The tension eased. The women were only too happy to talk about that. They told her about their local Meals on Wheels program and the public dinners and fundraisers they hosted often. Bree praised them for their compassion and their strong sense of community, soothing a few ruffled feathers and hopefully gathering a few allies in the process.
She stayed a while longer and then thanked them for their time and made her excuses, saying she had work to do. With a takeout box in hand, Bree left the kitchen, her mind swimming with questions.
Lost in her thoughts, she went through a different door than the one she’d come in with Martha. Instead of exiting into the parking lot at the back of the building, she walked into a large hall ... and smack dab into the same police officer she’d bumped into earlier.
“We really need to stop meeting like this,” he teased, reaching out to steady her.
“I need to pay more attention to where I’m going.”
“No argument there.”
Officer Petraski smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Regardless, he was another potentially excellent source of information, and she’d be a fool to squander the opportunity.
She returned his smile with one of her own, openly taking in his jeans and Sumneyville Bearcats T-shirt. “Are you off duty, Officer?”
“I am. I’m just here to get some dinner from the ladies and grab a beer or two.”
She held up her takeout box. “That sounds like a great idea. Mind if I join you, Officer?”
His eyes widened slightly, as if surprised she’d asked. He hesitated briefly before nodding. “Sure. Why not?”
Chapter Twelve
Bree
A bar took up a good section of the wall to the left, and at least half a dozen barstools were occupied. She took her takeout box to a table against the far wall, the one most amenable to a private conversation, and waited for Officer Petraski
