The terrifying scream still reverberating in her ear, Nancy called into the phone, “Hello? Anyone there?” But the line was dead. Nancy jiggled the hook on the receiver, trying to revive the connection. It took several seconds before she got a dial tone. After punching Redial, she got a strange-sounding busy signal. Worried, she hung up and dialed the Junction number again but couldn’t get through.
“You’re still up?” her father asked from the study door.
“Yes,” Nancy said, her face creased with worry. “I just called East River Junction to talk to Theresa, but the phone went dead. Now I can’t get through.”
Her father nodded. “That makes sense. I just heard that a severe thunderstorm was crossing that area. The power lines are probably down. I’m sure they’ll have things up and running by morning.”
“Power lines, of course.” Nancy felt a surge of relief at the explanation, at least for the phones going dead, but why had Theresa cut off her e-mail so abruptly, and who in the world let out that scream?
Well, she’d find out in the morning when she’d try Theresa again. One thing was certain, Nancy was not going to miss that raku workshop. Theresa’s hints of trouble intrigued her, and having an excuse to hang around the crafts village for a few days would be a good opportunity to investigate.
Wednesday morning Nancy, Bess, and George, armed with sleeping bags, approached the East River Junction crafts shop. The shop occupied a pretty but small white clapboard house with bursts of red and white petunias trailing out of sturdy ceramic pots that flanked the steps to the porch.
A sign was tacked to the porch railing: Registration: Raku, Tinsmithing, Papermaking, Photography. The line for registration trailed out of the store and onto the porch.
“Now, why didn’t I expect a line,” Bess moaned, stepping behind a gray-haired couple.
The woman in the couple turned around and smiled warmly at Bess. “If you girls want, we’ll watch your things, and you can visit the store. Everyone’s been taking turns browsing inside.”
“I’d like that,” Nancy said, depositing her luggage at the foot of the steps. George and Bess followed suit. “We won’t be long, but I wanted to ask about a friend who works here.”
As they entered the store, George remarked, “I can’t believe Theresa didn’t return all those calls, Nancy. She must have figured you were worried. She doesn’t even know we’re coming.”
“I e-mailed her again today, but she hasn’t answered,” Nancy said, approaching the sales desk.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” a round-faced girl with blond braids asked. She wore a name tag, which identified her as an apprentice in the instrument-making program, and her name as Melinda.
“Not exactly,” Nancy answered, leaning against the glass-topped counter. “I’m looking for someone. Do you know Theresa Kim?”
Melinda’s face brightened. “Sure. We have some of her work up front, though we can barely keep it in stock since that article appeared in Home and Design.”
Nancy put up a hand to stop the girl. “I know that. I’m an old friend of hers, and I talked to her Sunday night, but the phone went dead. I’ve been trying to call her since then, and I’ve left all sorts of messages….” Nancy shrugged.
Melinda made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Not to worry. First of all, our phones were seriously out from Sunday night until Monday morning. We had a major storm—really scary. And then there’s that old message board problem. I rarely get my messages, and half the time they’re wrong. Besides, Theresa’s busy teaching an advanced workshop. I haven’t even seen her at dinner the past couple of days.”
Nancy felt disappointed. “Oh. I’d hoped to spend time with her during the break in the raku workshop.”
“You guys are taking that?” Melinda inquired, twirling one of her braids.
“Yeah, if we ever get registered,” Bess said, gesturing toward the line.
Melinda looked sympathetic. “Actually, they’ve called in more help. You’ll be registered in no time. And”—she turned to Nancy—“you’ll be sure to run into Theresa very soon.”
A few minutes later the girls were registering. Handing them each a map of the crafts village, the young man at the desk said, “Orientation is in about an hour, but since that’s when raku is scheduled to start, I’ll get Melinda to give you a private tour now. Hey, Mel!” he shouted, getting up from the table and heading for the shop. “It’s okay if you close shop for a while. Would you please show these girls the layout of the village, on the way to their rooms?”
Melinda poked her head out of the door of the shop and replied, “Sure. Let me close up the cash register.” A moment later she bounded down the steps and tossed the girls’ bags in the back of an East River Junction pickup. “We’ll leave the truck and your stuff here, and tour this end of the village first. Then I can drive your bags over to your residence, and you can follow in your car.
“As you probably know, this used to be a farm town—a hamlet really—with a general store, which is now our crafts shop, and a little post office. All the houses have been turned into residences, while many of the barns and outbuildings have become studios. Of course, some of the studios are totally new structures,” Melinda explained as she started walking down the road.
Nancy stopped to admire the one stone building in the village. “What’s that building?” Nancy asked.
“The administrator of the crafts village, Joe Bye, and his family live there, though he’s out of town this week. Ellie May Miller, the pottery artist in residence, is in charge while he’s gone. It’s also our library.”
“Can we check it out?” Bess asked.
Melinda nodded. “We can try. The library is officially closed until eleven. But I think I know where the key is, and, hey, when everyone else gets their village tour it’s open. Why should you miss out on it?” she said, opening the heavy oak door of the building. Inside, the foyer was cool, with light filtering in through the stained-glass fan window over the entrance. The glass tinted the broad plank floor with puddles of red, gold, and blue.
“This place is awesome,” George remarked as Melinda reached up to retrieve a key ring from a row of coat hooks by the door.
“It dates later than the rest of the village. The guy who built it was involved with the arts and crafts movement at the turn of the last century. That stained glass is genuine Tiffany.” Mel led the way down a long hall. “The administrator’s private quarters fill that side of the house, and, of course, the kitchen in the back. This,” she said, stooping to open a door with her key, “is the library.” The key turned freely in the lock. “Funny, it’s already open.”
The room, with windows facing east, was flooded with bright morning light. Coming in from the dimly lit hall, Nancy was momentarily blinded. She blinked and her vision cleared in time to see that someone was sitting at a table. He looked up.
“Danny!” Melinda said. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking something out,” he answered casually. He closed the book he was reading and stood up. “So you guys decided to come back for raku?” He nodded. “Glad I didn’t scare you away the other day.”
He smiled at Nancy, and she realized he was trying to apologize for his behavior toward Theresa. She smiled back at him.
“You’ll like it here, I’m sure,” he said.
“So you’ll lock up?” Melinda asked.
Danny shook his head. “I’ll leave with you. I found what I needed,” he said. “I’ll just reshelve this book.”
Nancy had started to follow the other girls to the door when she heard a loud thump. She turned to see Danny bending down to pick up the book from the floor. While he was bent over, she saw him deftly stash a sheaf of papers in the front of his shirt.