‘I could get started on your new studio,’ he said. He had promised it to her when they were in Sligo; he saw the light-filled space as clearly as if it were real. ‘I could call Buck and we could get estimates.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Thank you, darling. It’s too much right now. Sawing, drilling, hammering, people in the house. I like my little room, it’s been good to me. Maybe one day. I was thinking you might raise some money for the Children’s Hospital. That always puts you in a bright mood.’

‘No, no, raising money puts me in a dark mood.’

‘Yes, but once it’s raised, you’re in a bright mood. The capital campaign will be announced soon. As the auction chair, I’ll know more next month. We’re desperate for beds, Timothy, they’re starting to turn children away. I think we’ll be going for five million.’

Five million! He was literally stunned.

She got up and went along the hall. Talk about sweeping from a room.

Violet jumped from his lap and followed. He got up and did the same as Cynthia vanished into the guest bath and closed the door.

In his years as a donor, they had never gone out for such a sum. Historically, it had been a roof repair here, a few new beds there, a van, a ‘gently used’ ambulance, a geothermal system. But five million? Where on earth would they find it in these mountains? Maybe a half million if they burned up the road, knocked on every door, and with begging cup in hand cornered the stray tourist. He felt he’d done all he could in recent years, having worked each potential donor he knew, save, of course, the fabled North Star of Donorship which was Edith Mallory. Others had tried Edith and failed, and since the fire, hardly anyone tried anymore.

There went the flush; out she came. He tagged along to her studio and sat on the minuscule love seat.

‘What?’ she said, giving him the eye.

‘You’re right. I just did this in Ireland, the whining. I had forgotten that. I’m sorry.’

‘Just because we’ve been away for three weeks doesn’t mean ’t was a grand holiday we were havin’.’

‘No picnic, I grant you.’

‘I love everything that happened in Sligo, even the ankle business for what it gave me in return—but it was exhausting.’

She came and squeezed in next to him. ‘Do us both a favor and give yourself a break. Let’s have a rest stop before the next fanfare.’

Maybe he’d thought there wouldn’t be a next fanfare, that the fanfares were over. He took her hand in his. What he’d ever done to deserve her was a complete mystery.

She rested her head on his shoulder, sighed.

‘You’re so southern,’ he said.

Chapter Five

He read the Hint, and realized it made no impression whatever on his psyche.

Why prolong the agony? He turned to the Muse’s midsection.

As was his wont on the occasional Thursday, he read aloud to his wife, who was filing her nails at the other end of the sofa:

Does Mitford Still Take Care of Its Own?

by VANITA BENTLEY, Special Correspondent to The Muse

Mitford police recently surprised a local couple in the front hall of the McGraw Residence on Bishops Lane.

‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘What does this have to do with Mitford taking care of its own?’

‘Read on,’ she said, ‘I’m sure there’s a connection in there somewhere.’

“At seven forty-five in the evening,” said Mitford police Captain Joe Joe Guthrie “we got a call from a neighbor on Bishops Lane who said a strange car had been parked at the McGraw residence twice that day. I made the decision to go up with Officer Lonnie Greene.

“We approached the darkened house on foot as we did not want to go rolling in there without knowing more of the situation. The moon was about full which can be very useful in Police work. We could see two people moving around in the front hall. Office Greene and I took up a position on either side of the front door.”

“Intruders usually come out the door they go in,” said Officer Greene “and we figured this was the door they went in.”

Well guess what people it was not intruders, it was . . .

‘Get this,’ he said.

. . . it was Father Time Kavanaugh and his wife Cynthia . . .

‘Father Time,’ she said. ‘I love typos.’

‘And Kavanagh with a u.’ He looked at her, disbelieving. How many years did a person have to live in a town for the local paper to get their name right?

. . . who were checking on Ms McGraw to see if she was OK!!

The Kavanaughs said they had called the McGraw Residence twice that day and gone by earlier to check on Ms McGraw when she didn’t answer her phone. They found the front door open and decided to go in and look around to see if maybe Ms McGraw had fallen down the stairs but she was not there. They left the door open, but&^ returned at sundown with the intention of closing the door if it was still open.

Unfortunately Father Time fainted when he saw Captain Guthrie’s Glock 45, but he did not hurt himself in any way thank the Lord.

He dropped the paper in his lap.

‘A miserable affair, this newspaper. A disgrace. Besides, I didn’t actually faint.’

‘Don’t stop now,’ she said. ‘This is our fifteen minutes of fame.’

He poked the miserable affair with his forefinger. ‘Right here is the trouble with living in a small town. I don’t like everybody knowing our business.’

‘But we’ve known their business for years.’

He soldiered on.

It turns out that Ms McGraw was actually in Georgia watching her grandson being born!! Michael Jason Holbrook!! Seven pounds eight ounces!!

“As for why Ms McGraw would leave her front door wide open while she went off to a whole other state, she said in a phone interview “My brain was rattled.” Well now isn’t that true of all of us at some time or other??

The point is, the Kavanaughs were taking care of their own.

This made us think about our former mayor, Esther Cunningham, who invented the famous slogan, Mitford Takes Care of Its Own, and used it as her campaign platform for many years!

Generally speaking do you believe Mitford still takes care of its own??

Here is what several townspeople said in a sidewalk survey:

“As for myself I try to take care of my friends and neighbors by offering fresh local meat and produce at a fair price. As for running around town doing good, no.” Avis Packard, The Local

“I do not see the same eagerness to address the needs of those less fortunate. That is all I have to say and don’t quote me.” Former Mayor Esther Cunningham

‘Ask the press not to quote you,’ he said, ‘and what do they do?’

‘When Esther was mayor, heads rolled for less than that.’

Oh, his wife was amused; she was over the moon about every jot and tittle of this farce.

“We are taking care of our own when we work to share our beautiful village with others, when we seek to expand our economy and quality of life by bringing in businesses that enhance the lives—and the livelihood—of all. We are taking care of our own when we raise taxes only when critical to the welfare of our community, and when we elect to have the finest fire and police departments in this county or any other.” Mayor Andrew Gregory

‘Well put,’ he said.

“Come to think of it the Girl Scouts have not tried to sell us cookies for three years, so it is hard to take care of our own if the opportunity is removed.” Lois Burton, The Woollen Shop