Foster, the artist they commissioned to paint their town’s murals. I’ll get the job done and be back home before you know it. “
     Eleanor continued to frown. Julie moved closer and gave her a quick hug. “Come on, Mom, you came over to help me pack.”
     Eleanor’s features relaxed into a sheepish look. “I did come to help, not to stand around worrying. What goes in next?”
     “How about the suitcase by the steps, and then the box of paintbrushes. They shouldn’t be too heavy for you. I packed both light.”
     Earlier, Julie had stacked everything she was taking to Cooperville outside the back entrance to her Seattle apartment. The spot was convenient to her truck, which she kept in the building’s covered parking lot.
     Eleanor picked up the tan leather suitcase and carried it to the truck. “When will Audra be joining you?” she asked. Audra DeSoto was an artist friend Julie had hired to help her with the Cooperville murals.
     “Not till I’m ready to start painting.” Julie reached down to fasten a piece of packing tape that had come loose from one of the boxes. “For the first couple of weeks, I’ll be working with the town’s Murals Committee to design the murals. They want all three to be historical, so I’ll have to do some research. I understand Cooperville has a fabulous museum, and there will be plenty of resources.”
     “This is a good opportunity for you,” Eleanor conceded, as she returned for the box of Julie’s paintbrushes. “If only--”
     Knowing where her mother was headed, Julie interrupted. “Mom, what happened in Cooperville was a long, long time ago.”
     Only a couple of generations ago,” Eleanor corrected.
     “Still, I bet no one even remembers.”
     “The Linscotts remember.” Eleanor nodded emphatically. “And you have to work directly with Millie Linscott. You told me she’s the chairperson of the Murals Committee.”
     “Right.”
     “But Millie was Cyrus Linscott’s wife. Cyrus owned the bank where your grandfather Ben worked.”
     “We’ve been through this before, Mom. I know what you’re going to say next. That Grandpa Ben was accused of embezzling money from the bank.”
     Doesn’t that make a difference to you?”
     “No, because he was never proven to be the thief.”
     Eleanor put the box of paintbrushes into the back of the truck. “Only because he ran away and never faced a trial.”
     “Well, he’s dead now, rest his soul. Millie Linscott doesn’t know I’m his granddaughter. She’ll never know. I have a different last name than his. I won’t have anything to do with the bank. The murals are to be painted on the library, museum, and theater walls. I promise I won’t go near the bank.”
     “I still don’t like the idea of you being in Cooperville,” Eleanor persisted.
     “I’ve thought this all through and decided it will work. Please, Mom, support me.”
     “I do support you, dear. I just don’t want you to suffer for what happened to Grandpa Ben. If Millie or any of the other Linscotts should somehow find out about your relationship to Ben, you’ll be in trouble. The Linscotts never forget--or forgive--a wrong done to them.”
     “When Millie Linscott interviewed me, she seemed quite nice and reasonable.”
     “Oh, yes, as long as you don’t cross her.”
     “Mom, you haven’t seen Mrs. Linscott since you were a child. How do you know she hasn’t changed?”
     “She hasn’t. Count on it.” Eleanor was quiet for several seconds, staring at Julie as though she wanted to say more.
      “What?” Julie prompted.
     “Oh . . . nothing. I’ll just worry till this is all over.”