Unlike their barn, which had been filled with cows, Andy’s barn was largely empty. Bins and shelves for produce lined the whitewashed walls, and pens were set up for displaying baby animals in the spring, but these were all vacant now. The only inhabitant of the barn was TomTom, who lived in a wire pen in the southwest corner, where sun came through a high window.
“That’s some bird,” said Lucy, simultaneously appalled and amazed. Tiffani was tugging at her arms, so Lucy lifted her up. She could understand the little girl’s desire to be safe in somebody’s arms. TomTom didn’t seem entirely pleased to have company. After cocking his head to study the group, he’d begun puffing out his chest and spreading his tail, strutting around his pen. The kids were definitely impressed and stood silently, watching warily.
“How big is he?” asked Sue.
“He weighed fifty pounds last summer and he’s probably grown some since then. I’d guess close to sixty pounds.”
“So he’s older than the others?” asked Lucy.
“Yup. I’ve had him about a year and a half. He’s full grown.”
“What made you decide to keep him?” she wondered aloud.
“Well, that’s a funny story.” Farmer Brown was leaning against the wood and wire pen. “First year we raised turkeys we picked him out for our Thanksgiving dinner. But when we got all done and all the turkeys were sold, my wife said she didn’t want to have turkey after all. Said it wouldn’t hurt her feelings if she never saw another turkey in her entire life, in fact; so we went off to her sister’s in New York for the holiday and we took along a ham. And that’s what we’re going to do this year, too. So it looks like Old TomTom here is safe for a while.”
“What’s he doing?” asked Justin.
Farmer Brown turned to see. TomTom had suddenly become agitated. His comb had become more erect and his wattles had inflated. He was rocking forward and backward, staring at Farmer Brown.
Brown laughed and removed his bandanna, waving it in front of the bird. TomTom seemed to puff up even more, if that were possible, and then charged at the bandanna.
The terrified kids ran for cover, cowering behind Lucy and Sue.
Brown laughed and waved the red bandanna again; TomTom went for it, hurling himself against the pen. The children shrieked, and Hillary began to cry. Tiffani buried her head beneath Lucy’s chin and clamped her arms firmly around her neck. Lucy knew they should lead the children away, but she was fully occupied with Tiffani, whose body had gone rigid.
Just then, a side door opened and Nolan appeared. He made a sound like a turkey’s gobble and waved his red cap; TomTom turned and stood facing him.
Lucy took advantage of the moment and loosened Tiffani’s grip, shifting her to her hip. Sue took Emily and Hillary by the hand and started toward the door. The boys followed.
“Thank you for letting us visit,” called Sue as they quickly exited the barn and headed for the van. Lucy was bringing up the rear and she turned to give Farmer Brown a good-bye wave.
He didn’t notice. He was gesturing angrily at Nolan, who didn’t look too happy. To Lucy, in fact, it seemed that the two were engaged in a heated argument. She gave Tiffani a little squeeze and hurried out the door.
CHAPTER 3
Ellie Martin looked at Lucy over the rim of her mug, filled with herbal tea, and chuckled.
“Boy, I’ve got to hand it to you. You sure like to live dangerously.” She glanced at the copy of the Pennysaver that was lying on her kitchen table with the rest of the day’s mail.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Lucy, ready to defend her story. She looked around Ellie’s neat kitchen, where the scent of baking filled the air and new loaves of bread sat cooling on the counter. Then she took a bite of warm, buttered anadama bread. “After I saw the way they treated Curt, I decided it was time to tell the awful truth about the board of selectmen. Inquiring minds want to know—at least I hope they do.”
Ellie smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I don’t have any problem with what you wrote. Frankly, I think it’s long overdue. I just hope you know what you’re in for.”
Lucy experienced a sinking feeling, unrelated to the fresh bread she had eaten. “You think people are going to be upset?”
“Oh, yes,” said Ellie.
“Oh, well,” said Lucy with a sigh. “There’s nothing I can do about it now. It’ll blow over. In the meantime, tell me about your dolls.”
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
* * *
Lucy followed Ellie down the narrow hallway of her ranchstyle home into the third and smallest bedroom.
“Now that the kids are grown, I finally have a room just for my dolls,” said Ellie. “My husband died a little over two years ago. He made the shelves for me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, wondering if a romance was brewing between Ellie and Curt Nolan and trying to figure out how she could ask.
Ellie led the way into the room, pointing out her workbench, complete with sewing machine, set up in front of the single window. The rest of the walls were lined with storage units, cabinets below and shelves above. The shelves were filled with supplies: baskets containing bits of leather, jars containing colored beads, a rack holding every color of thread imaginable. Taking center stage, opposite the window, was a lighted cabinet with glass doors containing the finished dolls. Ellie opened the door and Lucy stepped closer to examine them.
“These are exquisite,” Lucy said, genuinely impressed by Ellie’s craftsmanship. Each doll was different and each seemed to tell a story. A mother, dressed in a buckskin dress with flowing fringe on the sleeves, sat with her legs tucked beneath her,
