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feel it necessary to warn you about our mayor. She’s really good at keeping others in the same state.”
    â€œShe suggested that I try to write a short history of Covenant Falls for a brochure.”
    â€œThat’s what she suggested , huh?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
    Andy wasn’t sure she liked the way he said it. “Is there a problem?”
    â€œNo, no problem at all,” he said. “Sounds like a good idea. You a writer?”
    â€œNope. A nurse by training,” she admitted.
    â€œAh, one of the angels. I served in Vietnam and that’s the way we thought about the nurses. And the doctors. They saved my life, for sure.”
    She didn’t reply. She was still pondering his previous—enigmatic—words.
    He didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll show you around.” He walked to the left and stood in an open door while she looked inside. “This is our library and computer center. Nate Rowland, another one of our vets, built the shelves for the books.”
    Andy peered inside. Large windows were framed by cheerful drapes. Books filled shelves that lined one wall of the room. Several worn but comfortable-looking chairs were scattered in front of them. Two preschoolers were sprawled on throw rugs in front of the shelves. Several older children were browsing through books on higher shelves.
    Two teenagers and an elderly woman sat in front of three of the ten computers lined up on a long table. Not wanting to disturb them, she joined Bill Evans, who was waiting in the hall.
    â€œNice,” she said.
    â€œThe center is all Eve’s doing. This building used to be a restaurant, and it stood here empty for nearly twenty years until Eve decided we needed a community center. She badgered the city council into making repairs with volunteer help.”
    He led the way across the hall to a door and opened it. “This is our meeting room. We vets meet here every Monday night. You’re invited, of course.”
    â€œNate Rowland mentioned it,” Andy replied.
    â€œYou’ve met Nate? He’s a good guy. He’s the one who really started the Monday-night get-togethers. It’s helped a bunch of us, just talking about things we can’t talk to anyone else about. I hope you come. You’ll like everyone, and we need new blood. You play poker, by any chance?”
    â€œI’ve been known to,” she replied modestly.
    He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then grinned. He rambled on, “We’re not the only ones who meet here. We just claim Monday night.”
    Andy admired the room. Like the other one, it had an eccentric charm. Three elderly overstuffed sofas of varying colors and design were scattered throughout the room. An equally aged television sat in a corner. A battered bar ran along the back of the room with mismatched bar chairs. Card tables and folding chairs lined one of the walls.
    â€œI like it,” she said. “It looks...comfortable.”
    â€œAh, a diplomat,” he said. “It’s all donated except for the folding chairs.”
    â€œIn an odd way, everything fits,” she said. Then she remembered why she was there. “And the museum, Mr. Evans?” she prompted.
    â€œIt’s Bill. I hope I can call you Andy.”
    â€œI would like that,” she said.
    â€œI should warn you about the museum. We’re just beginning to put it together. We’ve been spending the past several months asking for contributions. Not money, but letters, photos, old newspapers, vintage clothing. Right now it’s just scattered pieces of our history. I’ve been going through it, but I’m no curator. In fact, I’m just a volunteer who kinda hangs around here.”
    â€œAre you doing the sorting?” Andy asked. She was getting a suspicious feeling about this museum.
    â€œWhen I have time. The library and computers came first.”
    â€œOkay,” she said, trying to