Sorry for the late installment of The Davies. Life got in the way. I’ll try to post the next chapter soon.

When Kennedy arrived for work the next morning, Mrs. Hughes was in a mood. Since Kennedy wasn’t feeling rainbows and sunshine herself, the vibes were decidedly off. She was still pissed at Will for dragging her into the party and she was convinced that Owen Caldwell was the absolute worst. The weekend hadn’t been enough time to recover her good attitude. It wasn’t just that the man kissed her; it was that until that moment, she was thinking he wasn’t such a jerk after all. He had been sweet to pull over so she could see the fireworks, but he’d blown it all by practically sticking his tongue down her throat. What an ass.

Despite having a long night Kennedy had arrived on time and got right to work, but as soon as Mrs. Hughes checked in with her, she could see something was off. The woman was tense, but she couldn’t tell why. Usually, it was clear like Rebecca had broken a dish or one of the endless committees she was on was giving her a hard time. She seemed totally ruffled and for the cool, sleek Mrs. Hughes, that was surprising.

A few hours into the day she threw open the door of the study Kennedy was working on and announced. “I’ll need the room for a few minutes. My 11:30 will be here and I will likely be shouting.” She stood in the doorway while Kennedy gathered her stuff and scooted out. “And can you get the door when he arrives? Rebecca is at the market this morning.”  

Kennedy nodded, but she was surprised. Not only had she never answered the door for her before, but she’d also never been told to get out so Mrs. Hughes could yell at someone. She couldn’t imagine who this person was or why Mrs. Hughes would be calling them to the house to scream at them, but she was grateful it wasn’t her.

Taking her laptop, she set up at the small desk behind the staircase. There she figured she’d hear the front door and still be able to get some work done. After a few minutes the doorbell rang. She stood up, smoothing her skirt and checked her reflection in the hall mirror. She looked professional which should be a surprise for anyone who was expecting Rebecca to answer the door instead.

At the front entry she pulled the heavy door open to find a man waiting there who had his back to her, cell phone in his ear. As she stood waiting, he spun around and shut off his phone. She stood there for a moment, too stunned to speak. She recognized him in a heartbeat. It was Owen Caldwell. He climbed to the top step, far too close.

“Owen Caldwell for Mrs. Hughes.”  His voice was amused, as if this was a funny coincidence to them both, not an awkward, unwelcome surprise. For a moment she was tempted to push him back down the stairs.

He was dressed in a perfectly cut, dark suit; the kind that conveyed confidence and power. He also smelled good, a spicy, citrus scent. She thrust these impressions out of her head since it didn’t matter that he was well-dressed or that he smelled like a sun-drenched Mediterranean island, or that in the daylight he was even better looking than she noticed last night. None of that mattered since this man was an arrogant ass and Mrs. Hughes was waiting to yell at him.

She stepped back, let him in, and with her best Rebecca imitation led him to the study and the waiting Mrs. Hughes. The door to the study stood open and Kennedy waved him in where he said in a cheerful voice, “Mrs. Hughes, always a pleasure.” And he offered her his hand. She shook it perfunctorily and added to Kennedy. “Can you please see that we are not disturbed? I’ll let you know when we’re done.” Owen turned away from Mrs. Hughes briefly to give Kennedy a slight smile and a wink as if they were sharing some kind of joke. She resisted the urge to rush forward and punch him. Maybe he saw this in her eyes as he gently rubbed his chin while she closed the door.

Kennedy walked back to her makeshift workstation under the stairs and desperately tried to reorient her thoughts. There was work to do. She pulled up the spreadsheet she had been working on and opened up the web site she had been referencing and started inputting data. It was a hard slog though. Her annoyance at Owen lingered, if only a hint and she found it distracting. She also found herself trying to hear their voices which had begun to carry over from the study.

Forget this. She thought. She had already learned an important lesson from eavesdropping accidentally. She didn’t want know what the lesson would be from doing it intentionally. She retreated to the kitchen making a cup of strong black tea and added enough milk and sugar to have horrified Beth. Beth was an ardent Yankee-style tea drinker who thought milk and sugar were only necessary if some idiot had let it steep too long.

Rebecca returned through the side door carrying shopping bags in as she did. She seemed to be in a huff. Kennedy helped her, carrying a few to the counter and unloading them for her. “Ugh, Market Basket was a zoo. I’m sorry I got back so late. I got behind Mrs. Coupon Nightmare in line. I didn’t realize it was her until they started ringing her up and man if she didn’t argue the price on every other item. I lost it at one point and asked her if 5 cents off a freaking can of cat food was worth it.” She grimaced. “Now I know it is. Actually, the whole store found out it is ‘cause she cussed me out. So much fun.” Rebecca looked up at the clock on the wall above the refrigerator. “Crap, it’s almost lunchtime and Mrs. Hughes said she’d have a guest.”

            “She does, Owen Caldwell, and they will probably be done soon.”

“Ooooh.” Rebecca fanned herself. “He makes my knees weak. That man is hot.”

            “If you say so.” Kennedy began helping to unload the groceries.

Rebecca looked up at her like she had eight heads and they were all revolving. “You’re kidding right? Owen is gorgeous. Although, he’s a player. My boyfriend works for him; well, works for the bar he part-owns. He says that Owen is always with somebody new, he’s like the babe whisperer, but strictly short term. He’s been that way for years.”

Kennedy shook her head but, that matched with the Owen she had met, a taker. From down the hall she could hear the study door open and voices coming near. Mrs. Hughes breezed into view with pink cheeks, but otherwise intact. “Ah, you’re both here, perfect. Rebecca can you please put together a luncheon tray and Kennedy would you mind serving? I wouldn’t normally ask, but I see Rebecca isn’t dressed for it.” And she gave Rebecca’s ripped jeans and concert T a hard look. Rebecca was supposed to dress business casual during work hours, but often when she did the shopping first she came in her regular clothes and changed later. Mrs. Hughes tolerated it, somewhat.

Kennedy wondered how to warn Mrs. Hughes that she was more likely to dump luncheon on Owen’s head than to serve it to him. The woman looked at her with a sly expression. “Oh my dear, he may be unpleasant, but that will not stop us from practicing hospitality. You’ll have to put aside your understandable distaste for the man (and please do feel free to tell me later exactly what it stems from) and bring in a tray. Rebecca, please assemble something as quick as you can. Thank you.” She swept out of the room, making it clear there would be no argument.

“Let’s get ‘er done.” Rebecca went to work.

When Kennedy first started, she wondered what Rebecca’s role was, but it only took a week before she realized that Rebecca was a wunderkind. She cooked, ran errands, decorated for events, there was little domestic that she didn’t do. Kennedy had thought a woman like Mrs. Hughes was her own brand of Martha Stewart, but it turned out that she put all her energy into her house and the societies, clubs, and charitable organizations she belonged to. Rebecca was the domestic goddess and despite her, at times, wacky appearance she was truly talented.

Rebecca quickly threw lunch together while instructing Kennedy on what to do. “Take this out first to keep them appeased while I get the rest done.” She thrust the tea tray at her. She turned back to the little sandwiches she was busily assembling and shooed Kennedy out.

Kennedy brought the tray into the living room praying that she would not trip on the way to the low table where Mrs. Hughes was waiting. Making a fool of herself in front of Owen was not gonna happen. As she crouched to slide the tray carefully onto the table Owen caught her eye and gave her a smile that caused her cheeks to burn. He wasn’t smirking or teasing her this time. He had a beautiful smile when he tried; it matched the rest of him. Once the tray was in place she stood and quickly returned to the kitchen for the rest.

Rebecca had worked at a miraculous pace and a tray with a tiered plate of sandwiches, fresh fruit and cheeses and tiny little pastries waited on the counter.

Kennedy picked it up carefully. “You are a wonder.”

Rebecca did a happy dance and sped off to change into her ‘uniform’ of dressy clothes. Kennedy took the tray out to the tea table. She set the tiered plate down and once again Owen caught her eye. If she was honest, she would have admitted that she had purposely turned to him to see if he was looking. Something she didn’t want to examine too closely.

 “Thank you, Kennedy, I appreciate you filling in for Rebecca. We’ll be all set from here.”  Mrs. Hughes nodded her dismissal and Kennedy headed out, relieved.

Once she was back in the study, she firmly closed the door, set her laptop back up and tried to concentrate. Her mind drifted. Eventually she found herself standing at the window overlooking the street, leaning on the side of the bookcase. In the distance she could see the town green and beyond it the neat little row of houses across the street that led to the church.  

She was lost down a long trail of random thoughts when a movement out the window drew her attention down to the sidewalk below. Owen Caldwell stood there with the strangest expression on his face. He wasn’t smiling now as he looked up at her. He was frozen like he’d been passing by, about to get in his car when he spotted her and stopped. He raised his hand in a wave that was more like a salute, one palm in the air. She backed away out of the window and sat down at the table. How long had he been standing there staring at her? She had been in la-la land and didn’t even know how long she had been standing there. Her cheeks burned with an embarrassment she didn’t understand.

 “So, how do you know our friend Mr. Caldwell?”

Kennedy started, but covered it by standing up and walking to the center table and facing the door Mrs. Hughes must have just walked through.

“Um…”

“There must be a story behind that ‘um’.”

Kennedy signed and gave Mrs. Hughes the brief version of the 4^th of July disaster from the party in Manchester to Owen driving her home. She had waffled over including the last bit but felt she might as well. Mrs. Hughes looked shocked. “You slapped Owen Caldwell in the face?” Kennedy nodded. Mrs. Hughes laughed out loud. It was the first time she had ever heard the woman laugh like that. “Oh, and please tell me one more time what you said to Renee, I want to remember that one.”

            “I’m honestly not sure what words I used but I suggested she was suffering from either low self-esteem or unresolved aggression and I recommended she medicate.”

Mrs. Hughes smiled at this. “You have the enviable knack of being able to deliver zingers. Most of us can only think of them after the fact.”

            “I’m glad you think it’s a knack. My mother said it was my bad temper and sometimes I suspect it’s just sin.”

Mrs. Hughes laughed at this as well.

“I always regret saying it.” Kennedy added.

“Do you regret slapping Mr. Caldwell?”

            “No.” she admitted. “But I am sorry I did it before I could thank him for the ride home. I would have felt better.”

“Well, he should try not being so forward or assuming every woman he meets wants to fall into bed with him.”

Kennedy nodded at this.

“He has been considered a catch for so long that it’s probably gone to his head. The man must be nearly thirty by now and he’s been chased since he was seventeen. That’s bound to do something to you.” Mrs. Hughes brushed a bit of lint off her sleeve. “There is one thing you should be careful of. Renee can be vindictive. You’ll want to steer clear of her.” Mrs. Hughes looked thoughtful for a moment. “It shouldn’t be hard. Your social circles don’t really connect.”

Kennedy registered a stab of resentment and then let it go. She didn’t care one bit for Renee’s social circle – she could have it.

“Now,” Mrs. Hughes continued. “Wouldn’t you like to know what Mr. Caldwell and I were discussing?”

            “I am a bit curious, yes.”

“Well that requires a field trip.” She crooked a finger at Kennedy and she followed. Mrs. Hughes led her outside to the garage where she kept her car. Kennedy knew nothing about cars, but this one felt nicer than her mother’s old Corolla for sure although not as flashy as the car Owen drove.

 As they were buckling up Mrs. Hughes said “I chair the Coventry Preservation Society and for years we’ve been working on acquiring a particular property to no avail. It lies just a few yards off of Elm Street, but the woods are so dense you’d never know anything was there. Back a few hundred yards from the street sits all that remains of a colonial era mill. At one time it had five separate structures but all that’s left is a store building. It’s in sorry shape and it’s likely to fall apart if we don’t act soon. Mr. Caldwell now owns it and has no love for it whatsoever considering he’s a developer you can imagine what his plans are for it.”

“Bulldozer?” Kennedy guessed.

“Of course, and he’ll replace it with yet another development of over-sized houses no one needs. He talked the town into giving it a preliminary okay by saying he’d save the original structure, but I want you to see it for yourself. It isn’t just the mill that’s worth preserving.”

She drove them out of the downtown area and onto Elm St. It was a small road, but fairly busy since it was officially Route 1A for a stretch.  Eventually she pulled up to a little dirt lot on the side of the road with an old wood sign at a trailhead that looked like it plunged right into the woods.  

Kennedy just raised an eyebrow. “Not to worry.” Mrs. Hughes said. “This isn’t a real hike. Your sandals will do fine. I’ve done this in heels.”

The two unlikely hikers entered the wood and almost immediately it became dim. The tree cover was incredibly dense and despite the sunny day, it was cool and shady. She could hear the sound of a river or stream happily cascading somewhere close by. As they walked the rutted and stony path the trees grew taller and the brush lower as they went deeper into the woods. Soon they could see for hundreds of feet around them as the tall trees had prevented the undergrowth from growing much beyond low ferns and shrubs. The wood began to have a magical feel as the light from the sun filtered in through the canopy above them.

They were close enough to see the river now. The land began to gently slope down and eventually they were walking downhill to a rickety little bridge. Had she been alone, she would have turned right back when she saw the sorry state of the bridge, but Mrs. Hughes plunged ahead so she followed.

The bridge was a foundation of stone with wood planks above. The handrail looked almost useless, and she let her hand hover over it. The bridge was barely wide enough for two people, so she suspected it was not original. How could it be? If this structure was over the only road to a mill, it would have had wagons running it over back in the day. It must have been replaced a dozen times.

The river itself was not that large. It was more of a wide brook, rocky and shallow. Once they were across, Mrs. Hughes followed a different path up the river. It grew deeper and less rocky as they went. After a while Kennedy was feeling the effects of hiking up a hill in a pencil skirt and flats. Mrs. Hughes looked back at her with a slightly red face and said, “Just ahead. The real bridge washed out a century ago and there is no other access other than this trail.”

Up they went and at the top of the hill stood a two-story, broken-down old building. It was gray and covered with vines and moss as if nature had reached up out of the ground to reclaim it. Remarkably it had a glass window in the second story that was intact. There were two doors, one man-sized and the other on a roller like a barn door. It looked as if it hadn’t been moved in centuries.

Mrs. Hughes fished out a key and opened the padlock on the man-sized door. With what seemed all her strength she pulled it open and motioned Kennedy inside. The building was dark and musty. It looked like a barn inside with posts supporting a second floor and a staircase up against one wall.

There wasn’t a thing in the building that looked historic, no artifacts, furniture or anything really. Mrs. Hughes led her over to the staircase and they climbed to another unremarkable room. It did have the window though and the view from it down over the river and into the valley was one of the most breathtaking things she had ever seen.

 “This,” Mrs. Hughes said softly. “Is what I think is worth saving. Not this structure, but this valley.”

From the vantage point of the second story window the valley below stretched out in perfect beauty. If it was magical walking through it, it was simply fantastic from above. It was nature in all her glory for sure, but because it had once been inhabited by humans, the way the trees grew back and the way the path snaked through rendered it otherworldly.

“If Caldwell goes ahead with this project, this is all gone. It will be irrevocably changed. I know that it’s practically a secret since so few people even know it’s here, but you saw how easy it was to access.” She waved a hand toward the direction they had come. “He could donate this land to us and we could open this to the public. I don’t know how it even stayed in private hands all these years. Every other landmark of this age was demolished, rotted away, or transferred by its owner long ago. This place has lasted over three centuries like this and I think it deserves to be saved.”

            “What did he say when you asked?”

“That the tax benefits from the donation would never equate the profit he could make from the development, that jobs were at stake, that his company needed this project, and that I was wrong to ask.”

            “He said you were wrong to ask?” Kennedy was shocked that he would be such a jerk about it.

“Well, I may have been laying it on a little thick about his duty to his hometown, but he did turn me down flat. No negotiation. That’s why I asked him out to the house, to appeal in person… but it was the same result.”

            “You must have a plan B.”

“Oh yes, I’ve hired a surveyor and a botanist. I’m going to try to find something to trip up that project of his. There may be some endangered flora under those leaves or something we can use.”

            “And you need my help?” Kennedy wondered what the woman would need from her. She wouldn’t know an endangered flower from an invasive weed.

“Tomorrow, do you think you could come down here at lunch and get a few pictures for me? I’d like to capture this view and the surrounding area. I’ve seen enough of your work already to know you’ve got a great eye for it and I’m all thumbs with digital cameras.” Mrs. Hughes laughed.

Kennedy frowned. She was pretty sure Mrs. Hughes knew how to work a camera. But, she was hired to do what the woman wanted it so wasn’t like she’d say no. “I’ll be happy to. It’s an easy distance from your house so I can bike it.”

“Right! I keep forgetting you don’t drive. We need to remedy that my dear.”

            “It’s on my list of self-improvements.”

Image Credit: Khah Do via Unsplash