Chapter 1 – Church?
Chapter 1 – Church?
Friday June 5th
The Morelville General Store
“Good morning Faye,” Marco greeted his daughter’s mother-in-law.
“Good morning yourself. Just getting in from your walk, I see?”
“Yeah,” he nodded and tapped his chest. “The doc says I gotta’ take better care of the ticker. We weren’t busy so Chloe sent me off to get a lap of the village in.”
Faye smiled. “What did that take you; ten minutes?”
“More like twenty. I got to talking to a fellow once and I stopped again to have a closer look at that old church down the street here too.” He jerked a finger to his right, toward the back of the store.
“Church?” Faye’s expression was puzzled.
“I think it used to be a church; the all-white building with a kind of steepled looking false front and stained glass windows?”
“Oh, you mean the old opera house.”
“The what?” He looked surprised.
“Opera house. It’s one of the oldest buildings left in the village. Back in the early 1900’s when it was built, I’m sure it was the place to go on Friday and Saturday nights for all the oil men that settled in the area.”
“Opera?” Chloe asked, interrupting, as she came up front from the back of the shop. “I just can’t see that kind of thing around here then or now.”
“Think of it more like a music hall and you’ll get the picture,” Faye said.
Husband and wife both nodded but then Chloe asked, “What’s it used for now? I mean, I never see anyone in or out of there.”
“I don’t rightly know, to be honest. Thirty years or so ago it was owned by one of the heirs to one of the founding fathers of the village and it was still used from time to time for programs and such. I know about twenty years or more ago, when someone was threatening to tear it down, old Papa Brietland convinced the owner to let him take out a 25 year lease on it and he was using it for storage and keeping it maintained but, heavens, he’s been dead for thirteen-fourteen years now.”
“Well, someone’s been in there,” Marco said. “That’s why I was looking at it. The bottom portion of those windows open out and one of them was propped with a rock wedged between the window and sill an inch or too.”
“That’s odd. Why would anyone do that?” Chloe asked, searching Faye’s face.
Faye shrugged. “Did you look inside?”
Marco’s face turned slightly sheepish and he stammered, “Actually, yeah. The window will open out about a foot. I could get my head up under there and look in a little. Couldn’t see much though...stained glass doesn’t let in a whole lotta’ light. The side by the windows looks pretty empty; just some theater type chairs in rows but they’re all pushed together.”
“Brietland never took anything out of there, least not that I know about,” Faye said, “but I know he stored an antique truck in there for a while. That’s why instead of a normal front door, it has that slider and that concrete ramp leading up to it.”
Chloe shook her head as she clucked her tongue. “Such a shame that a building like that is being used as a garage.”
“Maybe not anymore,” Marco replied, “but I really couldn’t tell.” He turned back to Faye. “Do you think we should let Mel know someone may be messing with the place?”
“She’ll be by after work to lend us a hand with the final touches for Hannah’s grand opening tomorrow. I’ll run it by her then. Don’t you let me forget!” She wagged a finger at him.
Chloe looked at her husband. “Not to change the subject but I really would like to get back there with Hannah. She’s gotten to fretting about this and that. Do you have this up here?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go, Go!” he waved a hand toward the bakery taking shape in an unused area off the back of the store his wife had originally intended to use as a nail salon before she threw herself into the store, village life, decorating homes and the whole nine yards of things she’d gotten herself involved in since their semi-retirement.
###
“Hannah, everything looks amazing!” Mel looked around appreciatively as the younger woman beamed and her mother and mother-in-law stood by doing the same. “It doesn’t look like you’ve left anything for me to do.”
Hannah blushed and then tipped her head toward Chloe and Faye. “They’ve worked really hard setting up out here over the last few days while I worked on the kitchen and, of course, Mr. Rossi helped with too, when he didn’t have any customers up there.”
“Did someone who’s supposed to call me Marco just speak my name in vain?” Marco Rossi asked as he came through the now shared stockroom from the store side of the building. “All closed up for the night,” he directed at Chloe before turning back to the young baker.
“Sorry...Marco,” she said.
Grinning, he waved her off and asked instead, “Why don’t I smell anything baking?”
His wife swatted his shoulder lightly. “First things first. Dana’s got dinner ready for everyone, you too, and then the three of us,” she said as she pointed at herself, Faye and Hannah, “are coming back to bake into the night when it’s cooler and so everything’s fresh for the opening tomorrow.”
“I volunteer to be a taste tester,” Mel replied.
“I second that!” Marco said.
