Chapter 11: The Tale of the Tamrins

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On to Providence!

Chapter 11: Deals Made

Ms. Grace wasted only enough time to hear from Hewie that the mayor did not yet tell her directly allegedly because of his hope that this year’s festival would do restore balance to the books. However, being of sound mind and rational thought Ms. Grace knew better. The crowd of this year’s festival did bode the financial situation of Providence well, but there were no guarantees that much money would be returned to Providence’s educational program after taxes were collected by the local magistrate and then passed onto the crown of the country.

As furtively as she could Ms. Grace weaved this way and that through scores of bodies as she hunted down the mayor. She wanted to ensure that this rumor was the resolute truth ere she let her heart run completely mad with fright. However, her imagination ran quicker than her rationality or her feet. With every second she spent trying to find the mayor another situation of doom and gloom crossed her mind. The one thing she absolutely dreaded was losing the guidance she provided for the children. She loved teaching. She could not imagine a greater profession for herself. She would teach for free if only it meant her meals were provided. Her rationality stepped in at this point to remind Ms. Grace that there were many more expenditures to running the schoolhouse than simply her salary. She knew this better than most on account that she personally set the budget and requests for the supplies necessary for the students to learn, which were not cheap. The school had always been public because no one in town with children would be able to afford the supplies and nor would they be able or willing to pay enrollment fees. No one would attend her classes if there was a tuition fee, end of story. These people of Providence were primarily farmers who knew the importance of spending conservatively. As much as they all enjoyed their educations, school would not be at the top of the list of their priorities.

The smiling faces and the general cheery dispositions that came in waves all around Ms. Grace did little to abate the panic rising in her. Her surmounting tension was hardly ill caused. It was already almost three in the afternoon, she was supposed to meet Mr. Tamrin outside of town hall here in a couple of minutes, and she was running around like a chicken with a missing head. Our darling school teacher could not find the mayor. Ms. Grace asked nearly every citizen of Providence she encountered on her search about locating the mayor. She did not particularly enjoy being racquetted back and forth through town like a ball at court. Her thoughts alone were enough to drive her bonkers as she was left to her own devices in a sea of strange faces whirling around her. Ms. Grace became dizzy and overwhelmed. It was when her footing and her mind felt the weakest that she finally spotted her target.

Heading straight for the mayor Ms. Grace pushed her way through the crowd in a non-Providence manner. The man had his back to her, but she was certain by the way his stiff and bulky shape that this was irrevocably her man of interest. “Sir?” Ms. Grace tapped the gentleman’s thick shoulder that did not come up entirely too higher than her own.

The mayor of Providence turned to greet the woman behind him. At first his countenance was bright and welcoming, but the moment he saw the face of the person acquiring his attention the entire sunshine above seemed to dim. “Hello, Ms. Grace,” the mayor greeted as though they were at a funeral instead of a festival. “May I be of service to you, my lady?” the man asked. He did not sound at all eager or genuine with his statement and never once did he make direct eye contact with the teacher.

“This is a private matter, sir,” Ms. Grace informed. She sent a weary and suggestive look over the mayor’s shoulder to the group with whom he was formally engaged in conversation.

The mayor nearly dared to ask Ms. Grace if this conversation incontrovertibly had to take place at this moment, but he was certain from the guilt plaguing his heart that he at least owed this woman an exclusive moment of his time. The mayor turned to his company and asked to excuse himself. The gentleman removed his tall black hat to be courteous to Ms. Grace and yet he continued to avoid eye contact with her. “Ms. Grace, should we take this conversation some place quiet?”

Shaking her head while pinching one of her fingers nervously Ms. Grace disagreed. She did not want to wait for the truth any longer. “Outside will be fine, sir,” Ms. Grace leaned herself as politely close to the gentleman as possible as she answered. Even though she was comfortable enough to have this conversation in the open she still was not particularly keen to any new rumors fluctuating through town among all these strangers. “Mr. Mayor, I was just wondering if…if it’s true…Will there be funds enough for my classes to resume on Monday?”

The mayor’s timidity from earlier was caused by the stress from the grim news he held for the town’s third most adored citizen. “Ms. Grace,” he quietly started and already the woman knew that this conversation would not end well for her sake. “I am not sure how, er, or where you heard whatever it is you heard, but um, this is the present situation our Providence is facing.” The mayor cleared his throat then said, “Walk with me, Ms. Grace.” The gentleman did not want anyone to overhear the economic situation of his town. He was afraid of being accused of short-falling the demands of his responsibilities. The story earlier uttered to Ms. Grace in the hat shop was yet again whispered in her ear that day. However, this time the report was explained in a much more verbose and convoluted fashion. Ms. Grace doubted that she would have been able to discern anything that made sense from the mayor at all had she not previously been briefed. But what else could she have expected from a small town politician other than a jumble of nonsensical words to explain something almost simple?

“So you see, Ms. Grace,” the mayor sounded as though he was coming toward the end of his speech. The gentleman turned Ms. Grace to face him. It seemed quite serious. In her turn, Ms. Grace realized that they were at the eastern edge of town, right in front of the Higley Inn. The mayor omitted another heavy sigh as he finished; “It boils down to this: yes, your school will resume on Monday, but only until you run out of supplies. However, there is a chance that because of a very generous proposed donation from a prominent member of our Providence that your school will reopen at a fully functioning schedule just as before.”

The weight of the world was lifted from the shoulders of Ms. Grace. She inhaled and exhaled deeply to finalize the feeling of relief. “Thank God, for that,” she praised, and yet, the mayor’s words led her to believe that there was some sort of clause involved. “But, sir,” she asked, “What do you mean proposed? And, who on earth could have offered that so readily? I would very much like to thank them personally if they do decide to make the donation.”

The mayor wiped his brow for the umpteenth time during their walk. There was a clause involved, one that he was not too excited to share with Ms. Grace. His silence was making the woman nervous. The way his eyes never landed on her own only further unnerved the teacher. She thought of his eyes being operated on swivel units as he answered ambiguously, “The donor wanted to remain anonymous.”

Ms. Grace did not like secrets especially when they concerned her. She knew that she would be able to wriggle the information out of the mayor if she tried hard enough. Planting her knuckles to her hips to make herself more authoritative, the way she saw Mrs. Huff do a thousand times when she was a young ward, Ms. Grace asked, “Why ever would he want to remain anonymous? What benefit would silence have for him?”

“Ms. Grace,” a poignantly familiar woman’s voice called the attention of the school teacher. Ms. Grace turned around to see none other than the mother of the man named Brian Higley. The widow in black who stood before Ms. Grace bore absolutely no resemblance to her son, save for the cunning hue of her eyes. This straight faced woman’s pretentious personality was typically what kept most of Providence’s locals from recommending visitors to stay at the inn (most were sent to the reverend’s home, for he was always welcoming to borders). Now that Ms. Grace was face to face with Mrs. Higley she had no choice but to endure whatever condemning words that were sure to come. She was overall a highly unpleasant woman. “A donor would choose to remain anonymous because it is a terrible burden enough to be a citizen of this talkative town. Anonymity will keep the pests from knocking on my door to beg for donations like mongrels.” The harsh pointed features of Mrs. Higley shot a silent mordant look at the mayor. It was unequivocally evident that Mrs. Higley intended this conversation to be strictly between herself and Ms. Grace. The mayor muttered a couple of undistinguishable words, not at all trying to obviate the fact that in this situation, Mrs. Higley was in complete control. “Ms. Grace,” Mrs. Higley’s high-pitched voice, which had been trained to overly annunciate every syllable did not give the school teacher the chance to ask questions. “I am sure that my brother, the mayor, discussed with you the financial troubles he has brought to this town, the fool.” Mrs. Higley scoffed, curled her lip, and rolled her eyes. “As his eldest sister and as I am wealthy thanks to the labors of my late husband in our inn, the mayor came to me for aid. You see, Ms. Grace, I am a very wealthy woman. My inn is the only true beneficiary of this absurd festival because I do not spend lavishly to satisfy the whims of tenants. Even if this festival of folly did not occur, I still receive regular income from sailors going this way and that between here and Portland, so of course my stupid baby brother would come to me to save your program.” Ms. Grace was not sure if she wanted to accept so much as a brass piece from this woman, but she was not given the chance to deny or to argue anything. Mrs. Higley continued, “Ms. Grace, I will assume that you are an intelligent woman. You had better be intelligent considering the power you possess in teaching our town’s youth and considering how my son, for whatever reason, has deemed you to be the best candidate as his future bride.” Ms. Grace’s face went listless. “Do not look so stunned,” Mrs. Higley scorned. “It is no secret to me of your connection with him; that is the reason why my son stopped attending your class after all. I agree with the understanding the two of you reached in order to avoid a scandal.” Ms. Grace was flabbergasted by the lies Mr. Higley was feeding to his mother. No such agreement had been reached between herself and that man. As far as Ms. Grace had been aware, Mr. Higley dropped out of her class because of his embarrassment of not accomplishing his goal with her when the reverend walked in on them.

Mrs. Higley cleared her throat and said, “I would hardly agree with my son’s choice for a bride – a woman of profession and of your age is hardly the type suitable for him, but my son is stubborn, so what other choice do I have but to concede. You are hardly passable as beautiful, but at least you are educated; my grandchildren may not be the best looking of the future broods, but at least they will not be course heathens like all the brutes currently running amuck in this town.

“You know, for the life of me, I will never understand how Mrs. Huff was able to afford to send you away for an education.” This was hardly truth – Mrs. Huff did not put a penny towards her schooling and her travels. Mr. Tamrin’s cousins paid for everything out of the goodness of their hearts. But no one outside of those immediately connected knew of this or that Mr. Tamrin’s cousins were actually filthy rich vampires. “Surely Mrs. Huff’s husband must have had side investments, for it is daft to believe they made any sort of fortune operating a tea shop.” Again Mrs. Higley scoffed. “I doubt that you, Ms. Grace, know why none of the other men in Providence have ever shown any interest in courting you?” The hurt and disheveled look on the young woman’s face confirmed the acerbic widow’s assumption. Ms. Grace wanted to scream for her Mr. Tamrin to prove to this horrible woman otherwise. “You have no dowry. When your parents died in that fire their fortune went up in flames with them, leaving you with nothing. It’s a wonder that even Mrs. Huff took on a poor orphan at her age. I’ll bet my brother did award her some secret funding so she could provide. But it is clear that she turned you cosset with her over indulgences. Look at you. What man in this town could afford you?”

“You assume far too much, Mrs. Higley,” Ms. Grace bravely interjected, remembering in the back of her mind the way Allison spoke to Mrs. Huff. Her own heart could not handle much more berating from this woman. “I only own three dresses, an overcoat for winter one silver pocket watch, which was my father’s, and a quilt stuffed with down. Does that sound like the possessions of someone who is spoiled, Mrs. Higley?”’

Mrs. Higley did not tolerate lip from anyone, especially not from some orphan brat. Mrs. Higley’s hand cut across Ms. Grace’s cheek. The slap’s force had a resonating bite on Ms. Grace’s pinkening face.

She had never been slapped before.

“Dare you talk that way to me, you stupid girl,” Mrs. Higley shouted. The woman angrily slammed down her fists to her side as she huffily continued, “It is a charity that I am welcoming you to marry my son and it is a gift that I do not shut your school down this instant. But I have given it good consideration and your out-lash at me has convinced my idea. Ms. Grace, I will fund your school indefinitely once you marry my son on New Year’s day, for it is a long-held Higley tradition for the men to marry on that day.”

“And if I choose not to marry him – because in reality I have no intention of marrying your son! I never have and I never will.” Ms. Grace angrily corrected. She wanted nothing to do with the Higleys. They were far too vile for her tastes or tolerance and she had the wonderful reverend waiting for her right now. How dare this woman interrupt her happiness. “Out of the kindness of your heart, could you at least give the children of Providence a chance and provide to the end of the year, just to the end of the year?”

A scathing expression made itself known on Mrs. Higley’s face. “You do not listen, do you? You really are not as clever as this town acclaims. I said that I will fund your school once you marry my son and that is the only stipulation. Until then, Ms. Grace, your school stands on its own. If you don’t marry my son, you can kiss your school and those stupid little mongrels goodbye.”

Ms. Grace felt sick. She hated ultimatums. The teacher quickly refigured in her mind the amount of supplies she still had which would last for the remainder of October and maybe a good portion of November. December was absolutely out of the question. Maybe, just maybe the town could put together some sort of fund for her school, Ms. Grace thought. After a second more of thought she realized that taxes were already so heavy and with winter coming hardly anyone would be able to afford to be generous.

With a sigh, Ms. Grace’s dark eyes realigned with the intimidating and cocky gaze of Mrs. Higley.

The acrimonious of the two threw her hands down to her side as her short temper ignited. “Get your head out of the clouds, you stupid girl! It is not a difficult question that requires this much thought. Will you marry my son, yes or no?”

Whilst Ms. Grace and Mrs. Higley were having their highly civilized conversation, away in the southern fields where the most fantastic show was due to play after sunset, two boys had been meddling with the forbidden crates. Within these wooden boxes were long and thick decorative sticks believed to be imported from the east as they were every year for the festival. They were operated and provided by the reverend’s cousins who alone knew how to handle such dangerous instruments that produced beautiful eruptive shows of light. The boys who played with these crates knew that they were not supposed to be anywhere near this part of the field. The boys also knew that they were not supposed to be anywhere near these crates with flint in their pockets, but those rules were only made to be broken in their minds. They only stole one of the sticks from the crates, which they figured could be easily excused. They ran off into the forest hoping that the dun leaved trees of Eastwick would mute and hide their actions. And as would be expected from a nine-year-old and a twelve-year-old boy, trouble ensued.

Holding the thick stick between them, the elder of the two lit the fuse with the flint. The hiss of the rope startled the younger lad holding the stick.

The boy dropped it.

The boys began to panic as they frantically attempted to pick up the hissing thing. Both bent down to grab the stick at the same time, which only resulted with them bashing their foreheads together instead. The fuse continued to become shorter and shorter. As the boys cried out from their unintended head injuries, the fuse ran out.

The stick exploded.

A loud bang went off at the boy’s feet accompanied by a blinding flash of light. The boys went falling back on their rumps as the charge of the fireworks went rocketing through the forest instead of up into the sky. The charge left the protection of the trees and erupted right over the forbidden crates.

The moment the first firework in the woods exploded was when Mrs. Higley asked Ms. Grace to marry her son. The muffled sound was subconsciously dismissed in both their minds because of its faint pop in the far distance. But what was coming could not be so easily dismissed. The sparkles from the exploded fireworks landed on a dozen other fuses, igniting them all.

None of the villagers or her visitors heard the hissing fuses and absolutely none of them could have then perceived the slippery slope of events that next would come.

Ms. Grace’s mind and heart were racing as the stone-cold face of Mrs. Higley stared at her awaiting an answer. She knew that to say yes would be disastrous for her soul and for Mr. Tamrin’s, but to say no stole from the children of Providence the chance to better themselves. Ms. Grace parted her lips to ask for time to think things over, but again she was not given the chance. Her words were interrupted, but this time not by Mrs. Higley.

An enormous commotion erupted from the southern fields. All of the fireworks were shooting every which way. All of Providence was startled by the loud pops and snaps and whizzing flares of lights and sounds. All attention was turned in the direction of the racket, even Mrs. Higley’s. And as the widow instantly began to complain about the infernal disturbance, Ms. Grace seized her opportunity.

She ran.

~*~*~

What will Ms. Grace do? Will she marry into the rancorous Higley family to save her school or will she follow her heart and pursue the man of her dreams? Tune in next week to read and see!

Until then...

Your humble author,

S. Faxon