Please Remember This by Kathleen Gilles Seidel Page A

blocks of limestone with an entranceway recessed into the façade, it had obviously been quite grand once. It had four tall, arched windows and the entry recess was a generous five-sided niche. The floor of the niche was covered with tiny hexagonal tiles. Black tiles against a white background formed the words “Lanier Building,” and the stone above the entranceway was also carved with those words.
    The problem was that at some point someone had attempted to paint the building teal, but the stone was rough and porous. It hadn’t taken the paint well at all.
    “You have to understand. We did our time as the Haight-Ashbury of eastern Kansas, and apparently back then, someone thought that teal paint on top of limestone was a good idea.”
    “It wasn’t,” Tess said simply.
    “I have to agree with you there. Do you want to go in? The Lutherans have been storing their extra tables here because of the trouble they’ve been having with water in their basement, and since I keep needing to borrow more and more tables for the museum, they gave me a key.”
    What was he talking about? What Lutherans? What basement? If Tess had been in his shoes, she would have just said,
I
have a key. Do you want to go in?
“Yes, I’d like that.”
    He held open the door for her. It was a big space, empty and dusty, with a flimsy partition running down the middle. The Lutherans’ long tables were folded and leaning up against one of the outer walls.The partition probably wouldn’t have stood up to their weight.
    “It’s good-sized,” he said, “bigger than anyone needs now.”
    “But I hear you’re getting a number of new businesses.”
    “It’s pretty incredible … although I sure hope we haven’t been selling people a bill of goods about how much attention the boat is going to draw. I know that I’d drive a couple hours to check out something like this, but then, I’m the guy who is digging it up, so I’m probably not a great reference point.”
    Tess noticed that she was smiling.
I
like him.
The thought was clean and simple. He was a friendly, interesting person. She could see that if he ever really got started talking about the riverboat, he might never shut up—there were parts of his brochure that had been pretty boring—but he seemed to know that about himself. “You mentioned needing tables for a museum. Will that be for the things you find on the boat and are refusing to give back to their original owners?”
    “Absolutely. In fact—”
    A shaft of light shot across the floor, interrupting him. The door had opened. “Ned?” It was a man’s voice. “Are you here? I saw your truck. Are you stealing more tables?”
    “This is my brother, Phil,” Ned told Tess. “Come meet him. He’s the one to blame for all the development outside.”
    Phil Ravenal was taller than his brother. His face was narrower and his hair a richer, more goldencolor. He was wearing crisp gray trousers and a white business shirt. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, and the collar was open. The fit of his clothes appeared better than the fit of Ned’s, in part, no doubt, because Phil’s posture was better. Ned introduced them.
    “Lanier?” Phil touched Tess’s arm with his left hand as he shook her right. “You must be one of us.”
    One of us.
Tess had never, not once, heard anyone use that phrase to describe her. She had always been the different one, the one raised by grandparents.
    Phil Ravenal was handsome. There was no other word for it. His features were even, his cheekbones were strong, and his jaw was firm. It might have taken her twenty minutes to realize that she liked Ned, but with Phil … her reaction was immediate. He was an extremely personable man.
    “So Ned has been telling me,” she said. “I didn’t know I had family on the riverboat. It’s very exciting.”
    And if the family history was exciting, what about this pair of brothers? She couldn’t help finding them interesting too. She glanced first at