Talk of the Town by Anne Marie Rodgers

Alice looked interested but she made no move to get up as she massaged her aching arches. “Who is it from?”
    “There is no return address,” Jane said. “Sit here and I’ll bring it to you.” She disappeared through the door to the hallway and returned a moment later, bearing a large ivory envelope, which she handed to Alice.
    Alice examined the handwriting. “I’m not familiar with this penmanship.” She tore open the flap and extracted a lovely card with a watercolor picture of a calico cat sitting on a windowsill next to a pot of geraniums. The cat was in profile as it gazed out the window decorated with lacy curtains. Opening the card, Alice said, “Oh, isn’t this sweet.”
    Louise leaned over. “Who is it from?”
    “The ANGELs.” Alice reached for a tissue and read: “Dear Miss Howard, we hope you find Wendell soon. We all are saying prayers for him. Love…” She had to stop reading for a moment to dab at her eyes with the tissue. “They all signed it.” She scanned the various signatures. “Every single one of them.”
    “That’s so thoughtful,” Louise said.
    Alice nodded. “They are a thoughtful group. Let’s hope all those extra prayers help.”

Chapter Eight
    A fter Clothilda and her niece had left for dinner, Louise went to the piano. She had purchased a new book of music suitable for wedding celebrations, and she was eager to try it out. First warming up with several of her customary exercises, she then plunged into the book.
    She quickly mastered the songs, which were not terribly challenging but beautifully arranged. After playing for nearly an hour, Louise closed the book and flexed her fingers.
    The sudden sound of clapping startled her, and she whipped around on the piano bench in surprise. Since all the guests had gone out for dinner, she had not thought to close the door, and so her music had drifted throughout the house.
    “Quite excellent, quite excellent.” Maxwell had come into the parlor sometime during her practice session and settled himself into one of the Victorian chairs. “You play quite well. Quite well, indeed.”
    Louise felt herself bristle. She wasn’t sure why Maxwell had that effect on her but she felt as if his words were not the compliments they appeared to be, as if he were denigrating the level of skill to be found in a rural area such as Acorn Hill. “Thank you,” she said politely. “You startled me.”
    He looked contrite. “I’m sorry. My father used to hate it when I ‘sneaked up on him,’ as he called it. I didn’t intend to do that to you. I was just enjoying your music.”
    Her ruffled feathers began to lie down again at the sincerity in his tone, and Louise smiled. “I enjoy it too. Playing piano is one of the most soothing activities I can think of. I always feel more centered and relaxed when I’m done.”
    “The mark of a true musician,” the young man said lightly.
    “So are you finding the atmosphere of Acorn Hill and the inn conducive to a productive writing process?” She placed her music in the piano bench and closed the tapestry cover, then took a seat near Maxwell.
    “Very much so. Everyone’s been very kind, and this mysterious creature that people are buzzing about really has me intrigued.”
    Louise waved a hand as if to downplay the gossip. “I’m sure it will turn out to be some local creature, or perhaps a prankster.”
    “A prankster?” The young man leaned forward. “What makes you suspect that? Do you have any evidence?”
    “No, no.” Louise was a bit taken aback by his intensity. “It’s just that I am quite certain no undiscovered giant creature is lurking about Acorn Hill.”
    “I’m not inclined to believe it, either,” Maxwell confessed, “but I am keeping an open mind.”
    Louise felt rebuked by the statement. “I suppose I’m not, but I am very much a person who requires tangible evidence before I believe something.”
    “But you go to church, don’t you?”
    The unexpected question