The Arrival of Alpaca Finn

Now the reverend’s death did not signal the end of painful decisions. He had to be buried, but where? Which graveyard? The church board had split evenly when Ned and Tarsal decided to build two new churches on the lot. They held an emergency special session at Mother Mary’s Pool Hall. Ned said he was sure Reverend Finn would want to be buried in the new graveyard because he didn’t have a problem with the Widow Collins being buried with Foo Foo’s ashes. Tarsal said it was only right that the reverend be buried in the old graveyard because Tarsal’s search committee had brought him here five years ago.

“So what, Tarsal?” Everyone here knows he believed animals could be buried with their humans,” said Ned, trying to stay calm without much luck.

“Prove it, Ned,” said Tarsal as he sat back with a smug look on his face. He was prepared to stay there all night if it took that long to settle this. He never really cared much for the reverend after they brought him here and it really didn’t matter all that much to him where he was buried. But he was not about to let Ned Cochran win any argument if he could help it.

“I can’t prove it. But I know who can settle this. I just got word before I came over here that the reverend’s sister, Alpaca Finn, is on her way here from Minnesota. She’ll arrive tomorrow on the noon train. As next of kin she can make the decision. I think it’s time to call this meeting adjourned,” said Ned over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

So Ned and Tarsal were at the station the next day waiting for the noon train to pull in. They weren’t putting their differences aside. Neither one trusted the other to be alone with Miss Finn and not attempt to sway her decision of where to bury her brother. They didn’t know what the reverend’s sister looked like, but if she resembled her rotund brother, she wouldn’t be hard to spot. The trained steamed into the station right on time. There weren’t a lot of passengers getting off the train, but Ned and Tarsal didn’t see anyone who looked much like Reverend Finn.

Someone tapped Ned on the shoulder and when he turned around and saw who it was, he let out a little “oh” before he could stop himself. There stood a tall woman who was as thin as the reverend was corpulent. She began pumping his hand with a death grip saying,  “Ned Cochran, I presume,” before they could even offer their condolences. “I’d recognize that sickly, pale freckled face anywhere. My dearly departed brother mentioned you so often.” Turning to Tarsal, she began pumping his hand. “And you must be Tarsal with that black oily hair and pug nose.”  Tarsal and Ned just looked at each other, flabbergasted. 

“Well, come along now. Don’t dawdle. We’ve got things to do. There are my trunks over there,” she said as she pointed to four large steamer trunks suitable in size for an ocean crossing and summer in Europe. 

The two men looked at each and Tarsal muttered, “Good Lord, it looks like she’s settling in ‘til the end of time.” Ned coughed, trying not to laugh. 

They could tell by looking that there was no way they could lift those trunks, but they gave it a valiant try. Ned felt something start to pop in his back and let go right quickly. He went into the depot and asked Charlie Towne, the station master, if they could borrow his four-wheel cart Charlie said sure and came out to help them load the trunks.“Now be careful how you set them down, gentlemen,” Alpaca instructed them. “I’ve got my good china in there.”

By this time all three men were huffing and puffing.

“Why on earth did you bring your own china?” Ned wheezed.

“I know the ladies of the church will expect me to hold formal teas and Dear Brother mentioned quite frequently how, um, frugal you parishioners are and I wasn’t sure if you would have a proper tea service suitable for my needs.”

Neither man could think of a civil reply so they took off their hats, wiped their foreheads with their handkerchiefs, put their hats back on and thanked Charlie for his help. Then they started pushing that cart up the slight grade to the parsonage with Alpaca fussing at them the whole way.

When they finally arrived at the parsonage, they were dismayed as they surveyed the steep front steps until they remembered that the reverend always entered from the back porch that had a ramp to make it easier for him to get his portly self into the house. After much grunting, groaning, and backsliding, they were able to get the trunks into the kitchen.

They reminded Miss Finn of the church board meeting that evening in Mother Mary’s Pool Hall at 7:00.

“Very well, gentlemen. I’ll take it from here. I’ll put everything away and you can come by to fetch me for the meeting and store the trunks in the garage for me,” Alpaca told them. They agreed to call for her at 6:30 to put the trunks away and that Ned should return the cart to Charlie since it was on his way home. And that was the last time Tarsal and Ned agreed on anything.

Alpaca spent the afternoon cleaning, putting her things away, and tisk tisking at the slovenliness of her late brother. Everything was covered with a not so thin layer of greasy dust from the fuel oil furnace in the basement. On the bathroom sink sat a dish with a bar of soupy soap floating in it. The sink was coated with hair and she had to hold her breath when she scrubbed the toilet. The bathtub wasn’t too dirty; she suspected that was due to the fact that her brother’s large frame wouldn’t easily fit into the deep, rather narrow tub.

When she finished that nasty job of cleaning, she took off her duster, pulled off her bright yellow rubber gloves, items she never traveled without, washed up in the now sparkling bathroom and went into the kitchen to see if the food situation was as hopeless as the rest of the house. Luckily, some caring person had left a roasted chicken, a plate of sliced tomatoes, and a carton of small curd cottage cheese in the mostly clean icebox. This suited Alpaca just fine. Light and healthy, that’s just how she liked to eat. She made herself a cup of tea using a fine Darjeeling loose tea and a favorite porcelain cup and saucer that she had brought with her. Alpaca always used two saucers, one smaller one on top of a slightly larger one. She believed in neatness and not taking a chance of dribbling tea on clean tablecloths.

After she had finished her meal, she washed up the dishes and took the broom outside to make the front porch habitable. Once that task was complete she sat down on the wicker chair that looked the sturdiest, one her brother probably never sat in with its narrow seat. She started thinking about the timing of her brother’s death and how that got her out of Saints of the Lakes before things got ugly. There were few eligible bachelors in her hometown and the ones who were single were substandard in her opinion. Alpaca was pushing forty and was tired of supporting herself and being the village’s old maid.

Chanceville was slightly larger than Saints of the Lakes and she hoped there was more marriage material here. She would have to be clever with how she went about getting a man this time. She knew from experience that it’s not good to get the women of your hometown all riled up against you. They have a tendency to get a little territorial when it comes to their menfolk. Alpaca also knew from experience that she had a certain allure to men.

No sooner than she had that thought, Mr. Perkins came strolling down the sidewalk. He saw Alpaca sitting on the porch, stopped, took off his straw fedora, and bowed low at the waist. “Hello, dear lady. You must be the late reverend’s handsome sister. I’m Johnny Perkins,” he said in a soft Irish brogue.

“Good day to you, Mr. Perkins,” she said.

“I’m so very sorry for your recent loss. A fine woman such as you should never, ever have a hint of sorrow to trouble her fine brow,” said Mr. Perkins as he arranged his face into its most sincere visage. In spite of herself, Alpaca blushed, thinking that Johnny Perkins must have kissed the Blarney Stone before he left Ireland.

Alpaca thanked him just as sincerely as he returned his hat to his head and told her he hoped to see her very soon under happier circumstances. Interesting man she thought to herself and, if she remembered correctly, her brother had told her Mr. Perkins was a widower. Yes, very interesting.

About the time Johnny Perkins was disappearing down the street, along came Harold Freeman whistling songbird calls. When he looked up and saw Miss Finn framed by the white high backed wicker chair on the reverend’s porch, he stopped mid-warble. “And who might you be?” Harold asked in his usual blunt manner.

“I might be Alpaca Finn. And who might you be?” she asked in her likewise blunt manner.

“I might be Harold Freeman. Oh, you’re the late reverend’s sister. I heard you were coming into town, didn’t know it was today. But I guess you didn’t have the luxury of time. Reverend Finn isn’t getting any fresher.” She blinked and tried to be upset with his crudeness, but Alpaca, being her ever-practical self, couldn’t argue with Harold’s logic.

“I’m so sorry. That was rude,” he told her.

“No apology necessary. You are quite right and when I have an unpleasant task to take care of, I like to get it done as quickly as possible. I have some difficult decisions to make in the days ahead,” she said.

“Well, ma’am, if I can be of service at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. I just live on the next block in the yellow house with the big front porch. You’ll see my cat Kissy lounging on the front porch railing,” he told her. 

“That’s kind of you Mr. Freeman. Everyone is being so thoughtful. It makes my burden lighter,” Alpaca responded.

Harold bid her good day and made his way down the sidewalk toward his house.

Alpaca leaned back in her chair and thought about the two gentlemen whose acquaintance she had just made. She was trying to remember if Brother, as she called him, had mentioned Harold Freeman in their conversations, but nothing came to mind. He certainly seemed like a nice man and, hopefully, he’s single. He didn’t mention a wife. Yes, this could all work out just fine, two possible candidates on her first day here. Maybe, for once in his life, Brother had done something useful.

Oh, of course, she would miss him. Yes, she definitely would but these new circumstances following his death might be the ticket to her future. Some people might consider her an old maid, but she had desires and needs like every other sentient being on this good earth. After this ridiculous business of her brother’s burial site was settled, she would see about a job at the local library. Yes, she was ready for a fresh start and this could be it. Thank you, Dear Brother.