Mr. Penobscot
Built in 1882, the stately Victorian home stood on the corner of Chestnut Street and Concord Avenue for more than a century. In an era when people traveled by train, there were many homes in the vicinity, but as highways replaced the rails, people gradually moved away. Eventually, the grand lady was all alone, surrounded by abandoned houses, half-buried foundations and vacant lots. Then, in 2012, developer Dominick DiMatteo purchased over two hundred acres of property on which he built Holly Estates. The townhouses that lined the streets of the development had identical exteriors and resembled soldiers standing at attention in dress uniform, awaiting inspection.
Amid these modern homes, the stately Victorian remained on the corner of Chestnut and Concord. Its owner, Mr. Hezekiah Penobscot, a proud octogenarian, refused to sell to DiMatteo even though the developer had offered him twice the amount of money his house was worth.
"I was born here," Mr. Penobscot explained, "and I aim to die here. If you want my land, you'll have to wait until I kick the bucket."
Considering the old man was well into his eighties, Dominick believed he would not have long to wait.
So it was that Mr. Penobscot—most people did not know his given name and those who did never used it—remained in his home and watched the townhouses spring up like weeds around him.
"That construction crew is throwing those places together," he observed as the number of units rapidly grew. "Not like my house. It was built to last!"
When the first families moved into Holly Estates, Mr. Penobscot welcomed them to the neighborhood.
"If you need anything," he told the new homeowners, "just come see me. I can recommend an honest car mechanic, a first-rate plumber, a reliable electrician and even a good dentist or veterinarian. And if you need to borrow any tools or a cup of sugar, come knock on my door."
"What a nice old man," Gabby Callahan declared as she watched the white-haired senior citizen shuffle across the street back to his own house.
"Yeah," her husband, Pádraic, who went by the nickname "Paddy," agreed. "I was going to stop at Lowe's and buy a power drill, but maybe I'll borrow one from him instead."
The Callahans' neighbor, Josiah Burkett, offered to go with him.
"I'd like to see if he has a weedwhacker I can use."
It was but the first of many times the two men would walk across Chestnut Street to the stately Victorian and either borrow something or ask for advice. Over the next four months, twenty more families moved into Holly Estates. Each of them received a similar visit from the kindly Mr. Penobscot shortly after they arrived.
* * *
Autumn in New England. Some people loved it; others hated it. The fall foliage was stunning, making even the plainest towns worthy of being preserved for posterity in photographs or paintings. Unfortunately, mid-October—when the colors reached their peak—brought hordes of leaf peepers to the region. By November, residents could no longer see the ground because it was covered in brittle, brown leaves that had to be removed. Thankfully, Mr. Penobscot had a gas-powered leaf blower, which he loaned to his neighbors.
One thing the people of Holly Estates did enjoy about the autumn was Halloween. Children and adults alike looked forward to the holiday. Throughout the development, decorations appeared on leaf-covered lawns. Bundles of cornstalks were tied to lampposts, and scarecrows and jack-o'-lanterns were placed on stoops.
No one looked forward to October 31 more than Mr. Penobscot. The display on his front lawn, which was much larger than the yards in front of the townhomes, was eye-catching. Orange lights were hung from the roof, along the wooden railings, around his door and in the trees. Pumpkins shared garden space with colorful chrysanthemums. The centerpiece of his decorations, though, was his large collection of prop skeletons, which were arranged in tableaus that he changed every year. This Halloween featured a group of cowboys wearing Stetsons and bandanas placed around a campfire. Another group consisted of skeletal body parts emerging from the ground in front of fake cemetery headstones. The last and largest group included thirteen witches competing in a Miss Coven beauty contest.
"Mr. Penobscot has certainly outdone himself this year," Josiah said, snapping photos with his phone. "I don't know how he does it at his age. I'm a young guy, and I barely manage to put lights up at Christmas."
"I suppose when you're retired, you need to occupy yourself," Paddy suggested. "Still, it's nice of him to do this. My son loves it! He sat at the window for three days watching Mr. Penobscot put the display up."
"Amy is the same way. Every holiday she waits to see how the house will be decorated. Last Easter, she wanted me to plant a tree in our front yard so that she could hang Easter eggs on it like Mr. Penobscot does."
"He never misses a holiday, does he? I've seen people decorate their lawns at Christmas, Halloween and Easter, but never at St. Patrick's Day."
As the two men put their phones in their pockets, Mr. Penobscot opened his front door and stepped out onto his porch.
"Hi, Paddy. Josiah," he called.
"Hello, Mr. Penobscot," they replied in unison.
"Want to join me for a cup of coffee? I've got a batch of brownies right out of the oven."
Outside of professional bakers, their elderly neighbor was the only man Paddy and Josiah knew who baked cookies, cakes and the occasional loaf of bread.
"Homemade brownies!" Josiah exclaimed as they walked across Chestnut Street. "That man amazes me!"
* * *
Six-year-old Amy Burkett, wearing a blue sequined gown that her mother, Anne Marie, bought at Spirit Halloween, waited impatiently in the foyer for her father to emerge from the bathroom.
"Hurry up, Daddy!" she called.
Moments later, the toilet flushed and the door opened.
"What's the rush?" Josiah teased.
"I want to see what Mr. Penobscot is handing out."
The little girl hurried her father out of the house. As they crossed Chestnut Street, they met up with Pádraic Callahan and four-year-old Galen, who was dressed as Beetlejuice.
"It's cold out," Josiah complained.
"At least it's not raining," his neighbor pointed out. "Last year, we had to carry umbrellas and walk through puddles and wet leaves."
As both fathers had expected, the first stop was the old Victorian house across the street. A group of children had already gathered on the front porch to receive treats from the elderly homeowner.
"Happy Halloween!" Mr. Penobscot called to them as they ascended his front steps.
"You, Galen, must be Beetlejuice," the old man assumed as he put a full-size Hershey bar into the boy's trick-or-treat bag. "And you look like a princess. Ah, but which one? Let me guess. Cinderella?"
"No," Amy replied. "I'm Elsa from Frozen."
After receiving her Hershey bar, Amy turned to leave, but Mr. Penobscot told her there were more treats inside his house. On the dining room table was an array of homemade baked goods: Toll House cookies with Nestlé's chocolate chips, snickerdoodles, blondies and cupcakes decorated to look like ghosts.
"Did you make those candied apples on a stick yourself?" Paddy asked.
"Yup," the old man answered. "I bought a large bushel of Macoun apples at the farmstand. Try one. I used my grandmother's recipe for the candy coating."
After Galen ate both a cookie and a cupcake, his father insisted they leave but not before Mr. Penobscot gave them a tour of the decorated rooms inside his house.
"Where did you get all this stuff?" Josiah asked, referring to the vintage decorations.
"My mother bought most of them when I was a child. She loved the holidays, too. That must be where I got it from."
Paddy looked at his watch and announced, "We better get going. There are still a lot of houses we need to visit."
"Mr. Penobscot is so nice!" Amy declared as they headed toward the recently constructed townhomes on Concord Avenue.
"He's like Santa Claus," Galen added.
"He must be lonely living in that big, old house all by himself. Don't you think so, Daddy?"
"I suppose," Josiah answered. "But he's got us now, and we're like a family to him."
Mr. Penobscot spent Thanksgiving with the Burketts, Christmas with the Callahans and Easter with the Hartnell family. He watched baseball and football games with his male neighbors and occasionally went shopping with their wives. He was like a beloved grandfather to the children and a kindly uncle to their parents. Not a soul living in Holly Estates had an unkind word for Mr. Penobscot.
* * *
Amy sat in front of the bay window, watching the snow come down. The forecast called for six to eight inches, a good amount for the first week of December.
"It's not even winter yet, and we're getting hit with bad weather," Anne Marie groaned.
"I hope it doesn't snow too much," her daughter said.
"Oh? Don't you want a day off from school tomorrow? I remember when I was a kid. I used to love snow days. They were so much fun. Sleigh riding, ice skating, snowball fights, building snowmen. We'd stay outside all day or until we couldn't feel our fingers and toes anymore."
"But if it snows a lot, Mr. Penobscot won't be able to finish putting up his Christmas decorations."
"Oh, I'm sure the weather won't stop him. He must be used to New England winters by now."
"When we first moved here, Mr. Penobscot taught me how to make snow angels," Amy said.
Mr. Penobscot is like a big kid himself, Anne Marie thought and wondered—not for the first time—whether he might be mildly intellectually disabled.
"What's so fascinating outside?" Josiah asked, descending the stairs in his pajamas.
"It's snowing," his daughter replied.
"Great!" he cried sarcastically. "I was going to watch football today. Now I'll have to borrow Mr. Penobscot's snowblower and clear the driveway."
"There he is!" Amy suddenly exclaimed.
"Speak of the devil!" her father said.
The old man was careful not to fall as he carried a plastic tote filled with lights down his front steps.
"He's putting up his Christmas decorations," the little girl explained.
"Maybe I'll put the tree up today," Anne Marie decided. "The snow has put me in a holiday mood."
"Let me have my coffee first, and then I'll bring the boxes down from the attic," her husband offered.
It was still snowing after the family finished their pancake breakfast. Before heading to the family room to watch the Patriots, Josiah assembled the artificial blue spruce and placed it in the corner of the living room. Although the tree was pre-lit with miniature white lights, he strung four sets of colored bulbs around the branches.
"There! I'll leave the decorating up to you two."
For the remainder of the day, Amy divided her time between helping her mother hang ornaments on the tree and checking on Mr. Penobscot's progress. The old man nailed the last of his nearly two dozen wooden figures—Charlie Brown holding his pathetic Christmas tree—to a wooden stake in his lawn just as the sun went down. He brushed the snow off his clothes and returned his tools to his work shed. No sooner did he turn on the lights than he saw Josiah and Amy walking toward his house.
"I hate to bother you ...," Josiah began.
"You want to borrow my snowblower. Right?"
"If you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all. But first, let's go inside. I need to warm up. We'll have hot chocolate with the gingerbread men that I baked this morning."
"I can see you're ready for the holidays," Josiah remarked when he stepped inside the living room.
In addition to the dozens of ceramic and porcelain figurines, there seemed to be garland everywhere he looked: hanging on the fireplace mantel, weaved through the staircase railings and draped across the ceiling. To the right of the fireplace was the decorated Douglas fir. Amy had never seen so many ornaments on a tree before. They weren't the plastic, unbreakable kind sold at Walmart and Target. Most of them were antiques, probably inherited from his parents and grandparents. There were some newer ones, too, expensive ones that were purchased at high-end gift stores.
"We put up our tree today," the little girl said, "but it doesn't look as nice as yours. What's all this silver stuff handing down from it?"
"That's tinsel. I think it adds the finishing touch to a tree. Don't you?"
The little girl agreed, but her father kept silent. He believed his neighbor was one of the nicest people he had ever met, but he also thought he overdid things.
"He goes to such extremes sometimes," he told his wife after their daughter praised Mr. Penobscot's decorations. "No one needs that many ornaments on a tree. And all that garland! The fireplace mantel is one thing, but why hang it from the ceiling?"
"He's a lonely old man," Anne Marie reasoned. "If it makes him happy to cover his house inside and out with holiday cheer, who are we to criticize?"
"You're right. Mr. Penobscot has been a godsend to us and to every other family in Holly Estates. I don't know what any of us would do without him."
* * *
Despite the early December snowfall, the winter was a mild one. Temperatures dipped below freezing only four times, and thankfully, there were no blizzards or ice storms.
On the afternoon of February 14, Gabby was having her hair done at Merle's Beauty Salon. She and Paddy had reservations at her favorite restaurant that evening, and she wanted to look her best. As Merle was putting the finishing touches on her coiffure, Gabby received a text from Ceely, her sixteen-year-old babysitter.
"Damn it!" she exclaimed.
"Something wrong, Mrs. Callahan?" Merle asked.
"It's my sitter. She's got strep throat and can't watch Galen tonight."
"Can't you get someone else to watch your son?"
"I'll try, but I doubt it."
Gabby paced the floor of her house, anxiously waiting for the school bus that dropped the high school students off at the corner of Chestnut and Concord, the same corner where Mr. Penobscot lived. When the yellow vehicle cruised to a stop, she ran outside and approached the teenagers who got off it.
"Excuse me," she said. "I just got a call from Ceely Zwillman. She was supposed to babysit for me tonight, but she's sick. Can any of you help me out? I'll pay you extra if you can."
All the youngsters had valid reasons for declining her offer. Two had part-time jobs and were scheduled to work that evening, five were going out on dates, one was babysitting her young siblings and one had a book report on George Orwell's 1984 due the next day.
"I'll be up half the night reading," she complained. "Believe me. I'd much rather babysit. I hate history."
Gabby did not bother telling the girl that the novel, published in 1949, was a dystopian view of the future, not a recounting of past events.
"I don't suppose you could read it at my house," she said hopefully.
"Sorry, but I won't be able to concentrate if I have to watch your son. And I really need to get a good grade on it. My mother will kill me if I fail English."
The teenagers walked away, leaving Gabby standing on the corner on the verge of tears. She did not hear the door of the old Victorian open and its owner emerge.
"Is that you, Gabby?" Mr. Penobscot called, startling the woman. "I didn't recognize you. You got your hair done up. It looks great."
"Thank you," she replied morosely.
"What's wrong?"
She quickly told him about her predicament.
"I don't mind watching your boy."
"You don't?" she cried. "I'll pay you."
"No, you won't. I'll be glad to have the company."
"You're such a life-saver, Mr. Penobscot!"
"I know how important Valentine's Day is to young couples. Ellie and I used to go out to dinner every year."
"Ellie?"
"My wife."
"I never knew you were married," Gabby said with surprise.
"She's been gone for over fifty years now."
"I'm so sorry."
She did ask why Ellie had died at such a young age. Despite knowing Mr. Penobscot for several years now, she considered it rude to pry into his personal life.
* * *
It was the Burketts' turn to host the Fourth of July barbecue since the Callahans, their next-door neighbors and closest friends, held it at their house the year before. The Hartnells, who lived on the other side of the Burketts were invited as was Mr. Penobscot. Anne Marie got up early that day to prepare the salads.
"Need any help?" Josiah asked.
"Yes. There's a container of heavy cream in the fridge. Would you whip it for me?"
"What's the whipped cream for?"
"I'm making a red, white and blue layered Jell-O dessert in my trifle dish. I didn't want to get a cake because Mr. Penobscot is sure to bring some delicious baked items with him."
"Probably his apple pie. That's what he made last year on the Fourth. Maybe I ought to run to the store and buy some vanilla ice cream to put on top of it."
"Good idea," his wife said. "I love pie á la mode."
The guests began arriving around noon. Soon after, Josiah fired up the grill. Gabby helped Anne Marie put the side dishes on the picnic table beneath the canopy the Burketts borrowed from Mr. Penobscot. The old man had also loaned them the large cooler where the beers and soft drinks were sitting on ice. Once paper plates, utensils and cups were placed on the card table beside the condiments, the hostess brought out hamburgers, hot dogs and chicken parts for her husband to grill.
"Would you get me a beer?" Josiah asked his wife.
"I've got one right here for you," Paddy said, handing his friend a cold Sam Adams.
As usually happens at the Holly Estates barbecues, the men gathered around the grill as the women gossiped and helped themselves to chips and dip.
"Isn't it odd that Mr. Penobscot doesn't decorate for the Fourth?" Jada Hartnell asked.
"He put up a flag," Anne Marie pointed out.
"I would have expected more from him. Maybe a giant Uncle Sam or red, white and blue bunting hanging from his porch railing."
"Speaking of Mr. Penobscot, I wonder where he is," Gabby said. "He's usually one the first guests to arrive."
A few moments later, the door of his house opened, and the old man stepped outside.
"Sorry, I'm late," he apologized. "I was waiting for my pie to come out of the oven."
"You're not late," the hostess informed him. "Josiah just put the meat on the grill. Would you like something cold to drink?"
"I'll take a Coke if you've got one."
"Coming right up. Here, let me take that pie."
"Where are the kids?" he asked after sticking a straw in his can of Coca-Cola.
"In the house, playing video games," Gabby answered.
"On a nice day like today? It's funny, but when I was a kid, my parents would punish me by making me stay indoors. Nowadays, you can't get kids out of the house."
"Ain't that the truth!" Jada laughed. "Leonard and I spent a small fortune on an elaborate swing set, but our boys hardly ever used it. Back when they were small, it was the television; now it's the Xbox."
"With Amy, it's her phone and tablet," Anne Marie declared. "She's not even a teenager yet, and already she's hooked on social media. Josiah and I try to limit her use of the phone, but it's not easy."
"I suppose Galen is the exception to the rule," Gabby said. "Or maybe he's still too young to be hooked on technology. He likes to play outside. Last Christmas, we bought him a basketball hoop. The year before that it was a bicycle. Next year, we might get him a trampoline."
"Who wants a hot dog?" Josiah called.
Everyone except for Paddy, who preferred burgers, helped themselves to a Nathan's frankfurter.
"The hamburgers will be done in a few minutes. Can someone tell the kids to come out and eat?"
Since the Burketts had no Xbox, the Hartnell boys were the first ones out of the house. Amy, who was texting her friend, came outside with her iPhone in hand.
"No phones at the table," her mother said.
"Where's Galen?" Gabby asked.
"I don't know," the girl replied.
"Wasn't he inside with you?"
"No. I haven't seen him all day."
Neither had the Hartnells' sons.
* * *
"What did he say when he left the house?" Paddy asked his wife when he could not find his son at home.
"He said he was going out to play and that he would meet us here for the barbecue."
"He didn't tell you where he was going?"
"No. I just assumed he would stay in the backyard like he always does," Gabby replied, visibly upset.
While the Callahans searched every room in their house, the Burketts and Hartnells scoured the neighborhood for the lost boy.
"I'll stay here," Mr. Penobscot announced. "Just in case he shows up."
By the time the searchers returned to the Burketts' backyard, the hot dogs and hamburgers were cold and the ice in the cooler had melted. No one cared, however, because no one had an appetite. Since Galen had yet to turn up, Paddy called the police.
"Did you phone all his friends?" the responding officer inquired.
"Yes," Gabby answered. "No one has seen or heard from him."
"He couldn't have gone far," Paddy added. "His bike is in the garage."
An Amber Alert was issued. Posters went up in storefront windows, on trees and on telephone poles. When these actions failed to produce results, the Callahans appeared on television, asking for help from the community in finding their missing child.
It was Jada Hartnell who cast the first stone of suspicion.
"Isn't it odd that Mr. Penobscot came late to the barbecue?" she asked.
"Yes, he's never late," Anne Marie agreed. "He's usually the first one to arrive. You don't think ...?"
The idea was too difficult for her to put into words.
"Galen could have walked across the street and into that old house, and no one would be any wiser."
"But Mr. Penobscot would never hurt him. He's a kind old man who's been like a surrogate grandfather to the kids at Holly Estates."
"That's the kind you have to watch out for," Jada warned. "Pedophiles like to groom their victims."
"You can't possibly think Mr. Penobscot is a child molester!" Anne Marie exclaimed in horror.
"Isn't he always giving them cookies or brownies?"
"Yes, but he gives them to adults, too. He brought an apple pie to the barbecue."
"Which he claimed was the reason he was late. I don't buy it. And what about Halloween? Most people nowadays hand out fun-size candy bars. Not only does he give out full-size chocolate bars, but he also invites kids into his house for cupcakes and other treats."
"He's just a lonely old man. His wife died a long time ago, and he has no children of his own."
"Well, you can go on making excuses for him, but I'm not letting my boys go anywhere near that old house of his!"
When Anne Marie told her husband about her conversation with Jada, Josiah was not nearly as willing to defend the old man as his wife was.
"She actually suggested Mr. Penobscot was a pedophile!" she exclaimed.
"I suppose it's possible. He seems to be a nice enough guy, but what do we really know about him?"
In the face of her husband's doubts, Anne Marie began to wonder if there might be some validity to Jada's fears. Thanks to the Holly Estates grapevine, by the end of the week, there had been similar conversations at every dinner table. With so many people talking about Mr. Penobscot's possible guilt, suspicion grew.
When the rumors reached the Callahans, Paddy phoned Ross Highgrove, the detective assigned to his son's case, and demanded the police search the old Victorian for any sign of the missing boy.
"We can't just barge into his house. The old man has rights."
"Then get a search warrant."
"No judge is going to issue one unless we have a strong reason to believe he's a suspect. All you have is unfounded suspicion."
"I've got a missing boy!" the father shouted angrily. "If I have to, I'll go over there myself."
"If you enter that house without the owner's permission, I'll have to arrest you for breaking and entering."
"You'll arrest me? What the hell kind of a policeman are you?"
Although his sympathies were with the Callahans, Detective Highgrove had sworn to uphold the law.
* * *
"What did he say when you went over there?" Josiah asked Paddy as the two men sat in the Burketts' family room, drinking beers in front of a televised baseball game that neither was paying attention to.
"He insists he never saw Galen that day, that he was in his kitchen peeling apples and baking that pie."
"I heard the police gave him a lie detector test, and he passed."
"That doesn't mean a damned thing. If those tests were reliable, they'd be admissible in court."
Josiah empathized with his friend's frustration even though he could not begin to appreciate the depths of his pain and heartache.
"I know he had something to do with it!" Paddy cried. "Every day, I fight the urge to march across Chestnut Street and beat the shit out of him until he confesses. But to be honest, part of me is afraid he will. They say not knowing what happened to your child is the worst part, but at least I cherish some faint hope Galen is still alive. If I knew for sure he was dead ...."
Paddy stopped speaking and broke down. Josiah patted him on the back and handed him another beer.
"And to think we let him babysit our son on Valentine's Day!” the heartbroken father mumbled.
As Pádraic Callahan alternately sobbed and vented his spleen, across the street, Hezekiah Penobscot had his television tuned to the same baseball game. And, like his neighbors, he paid no attention to it.
I've become a pariah, he thought, wretched at the unkind twist of fate that had befallen him. Everyone in the neighborhood avoids me.
Up until the afternoon of July 4, his was a full, satisfying life. However, shortly after that disastrous Independence Day barbecue, he became a recluse. Rather than go into town to do his shopping, he ordered his groceries delivered to the house. He would not even venture outside to mow his lawn; he hired a handyman to do it for him. The beautifully maintained house, once his pride and joy, had become his prison.
* * *
"I ran a check on your Mr. Penobscot," Detective Highgrove informed the Callahans when the couple went to the police station to inquire about any possible progress in the case. "In 1952, he married a woman named Ellie Curwen. Mrs. Callahan, you told me he claims his wife is dead, but I couldn't find a death certificate for her, so I did a little snooping. I got the names of everyone who either worked with Mr. Penobscot or lived in the neighborhood back in the Fifties and Sixties. Unfortunately, many of them are now deceased. However, there was a woman who lived where Holly Estates is now located. I visited her in the nursing home, and she remembered the Penobscots. This woman told me Ellie fell in love with the milkman."
"It sounds like the plot of an old black-and-white movie," Paddy grumbled.
"Rather than ask her husband for a divorce, Ellie and the milkman ran off together. No one knows where they went, and I can't find either of their names in any police databases or public records."
"They went missing?" Anne Marie asked.
"Just like Galen," Paddy added. "Doesn't that give you enough cause to get a search warrant?"
"I'm afraid it doesn't. The two cases appear to be unrelated. But it does make Mr. Penobscot a person of interest. I intend to do a lot more digging into his past."
* * *
Ten-year-old Amy put on the long rabbit ears that completed her Judy Hopps costume.
"Do I look ridiculous in these?" she asked.
"No. You look cute," her mother answered.
Amy would have preferred being the katana-wielding Michonne from The Walking Dead to the rookie cop rabbit from Zootopia, but with Galen still missing, she decided on a less gruesome costume. After pinning the badge on her police uniform, she picked up her trick-or-treat bag and headed for the front door.
"Wait for your father," Anne Marie said. "He's going with you."
"Seriously? I'm supposed to go with Katrina and Darcy."
"I'm sure your friends won't mind if your father tags along."
As she waited for Josiah to come downstairs, Amy stood at the bay window, looking out at the house across the street. For the first time in more than half a century, Mr. Penobscot did not put any decorations outside or inside his home. There were no skeletons, lights, cornstalks or even a single jack-o'-lantern.
"I don't suppose he's giving out candy this year," she said, noticing the porch light above his front door was turned off.
"Even if he was, your father would never let you go over there. We want nothing more to do with him. You know that."
"I thought in America everyone was presumed innocent until proven guilty. At least that's what the teachers tell us in school."
"As your mother, I'm telling you it's better to be safe than sorry," Anne Marie argued.
As was the case with Halloween, Mr. Penobscot did not put his usual decorations on the lawn at Thanksgiving. The wooden pilgrims and Native Americans remained in his storage shed along with the oversized turkey.
While her mother, grandmothers and aunts were busy cooking in the kitchen, Amy watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on the living room television. She wondered if Mr. Penobscot had made his pumpkin and apple pies, which tasted much better than the ones her mother bought at the grocery store.
"Did you invite the Callahans?" Grandma Ernestine asked her daughter-in-law.
"I did but they declined. They're spending the holiday with Gabby's parents in Pennsylvania."
"I don't suppose the police have located their son yet?"
"No. I often wonder if they ever will."
* * *
"The weatherman said it's supposed to snow," Josiah announced at the dinner table. "I hope it does. I'd like to try out my new snowblower."
"Lowe's and Home Depot must be happy that all the men in Holly Estates are no longer borrowing tools from Mr. Penobscot and are buying their own instead," Amy quipped.
"That's not a very nice thing to say," her mother declared.
"I'm sorry. I'm just in a bad mood."
"Cheer up," her father said. "It's only three days until Christmas, and then you'll get a vacation from school."
"It doesn't feel like Christmas."
"Please don't start that again!" Anne Marie exclaimed.
"I know everyone is against him because they think he took Galen, but I miss all the lights and decorations, the hot cocoa and homemade gingerbread. In a way, it was like having Santa Claus living across the street."
"Believe me, that man was no Santa Claus," Josiah said sternly.
Next door, in the Callahan house, there was no conversation at the dinner table. Paddy and Gabby sat in silence, hardly eating their food. There was no tree in their living room since neither of them felt any holiday spirit. They had not bothered to send out Christmas cards to friends and family, nor did they buy gifts for anyone. As far as they were concerned, December 25 was just another date on the calendar.
Gabby was listlessly pushing a bite-sized piece of chicken around on her plate when the phone on the kitchen wall rang.
"I'll get it," she offered.
"It's probably a telemarketer," her husband grumbled, picking at his chicken pot pie.
"Oh, my god!" Gabby suddenly cried.
Paddy looked at his wife and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. He closed his eyes, fearing the worst.
They've found Galen's body, he thought with horror.
"Yes," his wife told the caller on the phone. "I understand. My husband and I will be right over. Thank you, Detective Highgrove Thank you so much!"
When she hung up the phone, Paddy opened his eyes.
"It's Galen, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, beaming with joy. "They found him—alive!"
Dozens of questions ran through Paddy's mind. Was he all right? Where was he found? Who had taken him and why? But the answers could wait. First and foremost, he wanted to see his son.
* * *
"That's got to be the best Christmas present the Callahans could ever receive," Anne Marie declared when she heard the good news.
"And he wasn't molested. The woman who kidnapped him took excellent care of him," Josiah said.
"Why did she do it?"
"According to Paddy, she was emotionally disturbed, and after losing her own son, she took Galen as a replacement."
"It's a good thing the cashier in the grocery store recognized him from the flyers. They might never have found him otherwise."
Once the excitement of Galen's reappearance died down, people's thoughts turned to Mr. Penobscot.
"He didn't do anything after all," Josiah admitted to a group of his neighbors at the Hartnells' New Year's Eve party.
"That poor man!" Jada declared. "I wonder if he will ever forgive us for doubting him."
"I wouldn't!" Anne Marie answered. "We treated him abominably!"
"Well, I'm going to try to make amends."
"Me, too," Leonard Hartnell added.
"And me," Josiah said.
"I'll make him a carrot cake," Jada offered. "He always said mine was the best carrot cake he ever tasted."
"We can all go over together," her husband suggested.
"Let's do it tomorrow," Josiah proposed. "It'll be the perfect way to start off the New Year."
"I'll make the carrot cake first thing in the morning."
The following day, the Hartnells called on the Burketts, and then the two families crossed Chestnut Street and headed toward the old Victorian. Leonard rang the bell and waited. He rang it a second and third time, but no one answered.
"You don't suppose he's out, do you?" Jada asked.
"I thought I saw the living room curtain move a minute ago," Anne Marie said.
Leonard rang the bell a fourth time, and the door opened a crack.
"Yes?" Mr. Penobscot said.
"We've come to apologize for the way we've behaved toward you," explained Josiah, who volunteered to be the spokesman for the group.
"I brought you a peace offering," Jada announced. "Homemade carrot cake with cream cheese frosting."
"I suppose you want to come inside," the old man said, secretly wishing they would just go away.
"Yes, please," Anne Marie replied.
When Mr. Penobscot opened the door to let them in, the four neighbors were surprised by how much he seemed to have aged. His face was pale, his hair needed to be cut and he had lost weight. His house, too, looked as though it had deteriorated over the past six months.
"I hear they found the Callahan boy alive and well," the old man said. "I'm glad."
The Hartnells and Burketts looked uncomfortable. The old man who had gone out of his way to be a good neighbor was innocent of any wrongdoing, and they had ostracized him.
"Sorry is such an inadequate word for what we feel," Josiah muttered, hanging his head in shame. "If there is anything we can do to make it up to you ...."
"'The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.'"
The fact that the old man quoted the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám took Anne Marie, an English teacher, by surprise.
So much for him being intellectually disabled!
"Does that mean you can't forgive us?" Jada asked.
"It's not my forgiveness you need," he replied. "You have to forgive yourselves."
* * *
"I made our reservations for the Easter buffet," Anne Marie announced as the family sat down to watch a movie on HBO.
"So soon?" her husband asked.
"Easter comes early this year, just ten days after St. Patrick's Day."
"Holidays aren't the same as they used to be," Amy whined. "Not since Mr. Penobscot stopped decorating his house and baking treats for us."
All three Burketts turned toward the bay window and looked at the old Victorian across the street.
"His house needs a paint job. Maybe we ought to take up a collection in the neighborhood and hire someone," Anne Marie suggested. "It's the least we could do after the way we all treated him."
"It's probably not cheap to paint a house that size, especially one with so much elaborate trim," her husband opined.
"The place is so depressing," Amy declared. "Half the time, there are no lights on inside. Mr. Penobscot must sit in the dark."
As though her parents had not felt guilty enough, the idea of the old man spending what could be his last years by himself in a dark room made them feel even worse.
"I'm going to mention my idea to some of the neighbors tomorrow," Anne Marie announced. "I'll also call around and see if anyone can recommend a good house painter."
By the time she received an estimate, however, Mr. Penobscot was dead.
"Who found him?" Paddy asked Josiah at the community's annual Easter Egg hunt on Holy Saturday.
"The mailman. He noticed the letters were piling up in the box, so he peeked in the window and saw the body on the floor."
"I never got to apologize. I wanted to, but I was too ashamed. But—damn it!—I really thought he did it."
"So did everyone else."
"When I think about how nice he was to us and how we treated him, it makes me sick! If only I could take it all back. But I can't."
"None of us can. We've all got to live with it," Josiah said.
* * *
Since Hezekiah Penobscot had no heirs, the state took possession of his property. Dominick DeMateo promptly bought the house on the corner of Chestnut Street and Concord Avenue, intending to tear it down and build more townhouses. An estate sale was held on the last Saturday in May during which most of the old man's belongings were auctioned off to the highest bidders. Items that didn't sell were donated to Goodwill. Two days later, early Monday morning, the demolition crews arrived.
"I'm glad we have school today," Amy told the Hartnell brothers at the bus stop. "I don't want to be here when they tear Mr. Penobscot's house down."
When the school bus returned in the afternoon, very little remained of the old Victorian. The backhoe had already demolished the house, and the dump trucks hauled the debris away. Tomorrow, the backhoes would return and dig up the ground so that the contractor could begin laying the foundations for the new units.
Amy got off the bus, walked into her house and saw her mother at the bay window.
"Before you know it, we'll be getting new neighbors," Anne Marie announced. "Maybe they'll have children your age. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"I'd rather have Mr. Penobscot back."
So would I, her mother admitted to herself. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so guilty about making his last months so horrible.
When Amy came down to breakfast the next morning, she wore a garish unicorn necklace, one intended to be worn by a much younger child.
"Where did you get that?" her mother asked.
"Mr. Penobscot gave it to me for Christmas the first year we moved here."
Anne Marie worried that her daughter had yet to get over the death of their former neighbor and considered taking her to a child psychologist for grief counseling.
"Would you like me to pick you up at school this afternoon?" she asked, hoping to cheer the girl up. "We can stop at the mall on the way home."
"Nah. I have to study for a math test."
Although Amy did have an algebra test later that week, she had no intention of studying for it. She lied to her mother because she was in no mood to go shopping. Mr. Penobscot was gone, and he was never coming back. Now, with the Victorian home demolished, it was as though he never existed.
Somehow, she made it through the day without crying. The unicorn necklace helped. Every time she felt her eyes begin to mist, she wrapped her fingers around it as though it gave her strength.
That afternoon, as the school bus turned onto Concord Avenue, the ten-year-old saw police cars and an ambulance parked on Chestnut Street.
"Oh no!" she cried. "What happened?"
When the bus came to a stop, she ran across the street to her house.
"Mom! Are you here?" she called.
There was no answer, and the girl began to panic.
"Mom!" she screamed, running upstairs to the master bedroom.
The front door opened, and a welcome voice called to her, "Amy?"
"Mom, where were you? What's going on? Why are there police cars and an ambulance outside? Was someone hurt?"
"Slow down. Give me a chance to answer. I was next door, having a cup of coffee with Gabby and Jada. It's been quite a day!"
"What happened?" her daughter repeated her question.
"The excavators were digging up the crawlspace beneath Mr. Penobscot's house and uncovered human remains."
"What?"
"They found the skeletons of two adults. The contractor immediately stopped working and called the police. Detective Highgrove thinks the remains are those of Mrs. Penobscot and the milkman."
"I thought they ran away together."
"Apparently not, but I'm sure the police will do a DNA test to make a positive identification."
"I'm sorry, Mom."
"What for?"
"I thought you, Dad and the others unjustly accused Mr. Penobscot," Amy said. "I was ashamed of all of you. But now there's concrete proof he's a monster—not a child molester but a murderer."
The ten-year-old unfasted the unicorn necklace and tossed it into the kitchen trash can. Anne Marie smiled. Perhaps Amy wouldn't need a grief counselor after all.
When Salem read this story, he wanted to outdo Mr. Penobscot, so he decorated himself.
