“And frighten her?” She wasn’t so sure.
“Maybe she has reason to be scared,” Shelly said.
Poppy leaned forward. “Or maybe we’re the ones who should be concerned. What if she’s a murderer on the run?”
“I’d choose something other than a bright bookmobile if it were me,” Shelly said.
“Think about it.” Poppy shook her head. “A mild-mannered librarian might be the perfect cover.”
“Okay, enough conjecture, you two.” Ivy was more than a little concerned, but she didn’t want to let on. “She’s leaving in the morning. If we want to consider her bookmobile for the community, she’ll have to submit an application with identification. Same as anyone else who would have a city contract.”
While Shelly and Poppy talked, Ivy frowned at her tea, wondering if Reed had asked Libby out tonight. Still, he knew she was leaving tomorrow, so it couldn’t be serious.
As if reading Ivy’s mind, Poppy pressed her lips together. “I have to warn Reed about this. He’ll tell me it’s none of my business again, but he’s my brother, and I’ve been right before.” She rose and hurried away.
After Shelly left, Ivy decided to take a better look at the cabinetry. She tapped a message to Reed, then got a cleaning rag and a bottle of furniture oil from the kitchen. In the music room, she ran the soft cloth over the built-ins they’d uncovered. The orange-scented oil revealed beautiful, finely grained wood.
Reed walked in. “You wanted to see me?”
She nodded. “I’m still in awe about the plans we found. Libby talked about this, even before we discovered the plans. Do youthink that’s odd?” But then, maybe Libby saw the same article Nan found.
“Probably a coincidence.” Reed asked, “Is Libby staying over tonight?”
“She is,” Ivy replied. “Why do you ask?”
Reed shrugged, but Ivy noticed a hint of self-consciousness cross his face. “She’s interesting, that’s all. Since she doesn’t know anyone in town, I thought she might like to have dinner with me tonight.”
Ivy bit back a smile. Reed wasn’t usually so transparent, and she found his awkwardness endearing. “Have you spoken to Poppy?”
Reed shook his head. “Not really. I’ve been busy with my crew. I’ll catch up with her later.” Reed quickly changed the subject, gesturing toward the cabinetry. “You wanted to talk about these beauties?”
Ivy ran her hand over the old wood. “This is the kind of storage space I wanted in here. Instead of building new cabinetry, can these be restored?” The craftsmanship hidden beneath years of neglect was still lovely.
“They were well built, like the rest of the cabinetry in the house,” Reed said, inspecting the doors. He ran a hand along the wood, then checked the tarnished hardware and examined the hinges. “I’m pretty sure we can,” he said finally, nodding with confidence. “We should replace the hardware, though. I see some broken parts, and this room will have a lot of use.”
“Then let’s do that.” She was pleased to see another piece of her vision fall into place.
“I have a restoration expert who does fine work on cabinetry. I’ll put him on the schedule. The cost should fall well within your overage allowance.” Reed made a few notes in his notebook before excusing himself to continue work.
As she watched him leave, she thought about how her nephew had neatly skirted her question about whether he’d spoken to his sister. That was between them. For now, at least.
12
Once alone, Ivy opened the cabinets again. She wanted to get a better look at them, so she ran her oiled cleaning cloth over the interior shelves. The cabinets were in good condition for their age, likely because the wall had shielded them from use.
She was glad Reed had a craftsman who could restore them. Working her way across the wall, she inspected every cabinet methodically.
Ivy bent to clean the lower cabinet where she had found the architectural plans. As she swiped the cloth across the back, a paper slid out and flew onto the floor.
What’s this?she thought.
Ivy picked it up, noting its sepia shade and printed handwriting. She reached into her pocket for her reading glasses—a new emerald-green pair that Bennett said matched her eyes.
The writing came into focus. This was a receipt for the plans they’d discovered earlier. It was dated November 1941.For the Library and Art Museum.The bottom part was torn. Before putting it aside, she absently turned over the paper.
The reverse side was covered in a flowing script, likely written by a different person.
Ivy recognized a name. It was Amelia’s father, Hans.
