The Whole Town's Talking (Elmwood Springs #4)

Although she had scored the highest of anyone on her entrance exam, when first-year student I. Nordstrom turned out to be a female, Mr. Richard Livermore, the faculty administrator, had been thunderstruck.

This had never happened before. He quickly called a meeting of the faculty and the dean of admissions to figure out how best to handle the mistake and get rid of her as gracefully as possible. But when Mr. Livermore’s wife heard about Ingrid showing up for school, she marched into the meeting and addressed her husband. “You’d better accept that girl in this school, Mr. Livermore, or you will hear from every woman in Iowa…starting with me!”

Nobody wanted to cross Mrs. Livermore. And, as the dean said, “If we keep her out, there will be hell to pay.” So they let her in.

Ingrid knew the next years of study would be a lot of hard work and that she would face a lot of opposition from the male students who were not happy about her being there. But she was a lot like her mother, brave and determined. And, thankfully, there was at least one young male student who was awfully glad she was there.



THERE WAS ANOTHER SURPRISE that year, only this time, it was up at Still Meadows. Late one afternoon, Nancy Knott was singing one of her favorite German drinking songs when suddenly, right in the middle of the tune, she stopped. They all waited for her to pick up the tune again, but they heard nothing but silence. After calling to her for some time and receiving no reply, it was clear to them that Nancy was definitely not there. It had happened again.

When Lordor and Katrina then explained to the others about Mr. Chapman’s earlier disappearance, a somewhat irritated Henry Knott said, “Well, ain’t that just like Nancy to up and disappear on me right in the middle of a song. I tell you, that woman always did have a mind of her own. And now she’s flew the coop without a goodbye or nothing. Well, dang.”





Even though some said he was too mean to die, Old Man Hendersen finally expired and came up to Still Meadows. And, as expected, after the folks on the hill had all greeted him, he let them know that he had no interest in conversation. He said, “I’m glad you’re glad I’m here, but how in the hell can I rest in peace if all of you keep nattering at me? I need my sleep. Good night!”

Lordor laughed. “I guess it’s nice to know some things never change. Let the old boy sleep.” So they did.

Over the next couple of years or so, old Mrs. Tildholme; Birdie’s husband, Lars; Mrs. Lindquist; and the Eggstroms came up to Still Meadows. It was so good to be with them again.

And it was nice to know they all could still laugh. There were a lot of things to laugh at up at Still Meadows. Every Halloween, invariably, some boys in town would dare one another to go out and spend the night at the cemetery to prove how brave they were.

Last Halloween, around midnight, after two little boys had just finished rolling out their sleeping bags, a huge owl hooted and flew out of a tree, and the two boys screamed like little girls and ran home. They never did come back for their sleeping bags. And, of course, there was the water tower. Boys were always trying to climb up to the top, but most got scared and stopped halfway up. The men up at Still Meadows would watch and make bets on who would make it.



IN SEPTEMBER 1923, Mrs. Hattie Smith became the very last of the old settlers to join her old friends, and she could hardly wait to tell Katrina the good news. “We got the vote! The bill passed!”

“Oh, Hattie! How wonderful. Did you hear that, Lordor? Women can vote.”

Before he could respond, Hattie continued. “And that’s not all. Hold on to your hat. You and Lordor are now two old grandparents. A big, fine boy named Gene Lordor Nordstrom, after his grandpa.”

Katrina was thrilled. “Oh, Lordor, we have a grandson.”

“A boy? What does he look like? Have you seen him?”

“What do you think? He looks just like you, Lordor. Blond, blue eyes…you just wait. They’ll surely be up to visit at Christmas. You’ll see for yourself.”

Hattie Smith had been right. That Christmas, when Ted and his wife, Gerta, came out and decorated their grave, Katrina and Lordor saw their new grandbaby, nine-month-old Gene Lordor, for the first time, and just as Hattie said, he was a blond boy with blue eyes, and he did look like his grandfather.

In Elmwood Springs, as everywhere, the last generation moved on, and the next one was coming up right behind it. Besides Lordor and Katrina’s new grandson, one of the Lindquist girls, Hazel, had married Clarence Goodnight, and they now had eight-year-old twin girls named Bess and Ada and a little one on the way.





In 1927, Charles Lindbergh thrilled the world with his flight over the Atlantic, and everyone was singing and dancing to the new tune “Lucky Lindy.”

In Elmwood Springs, the whole town was abuzz about the upcoming wedding of Ingrid Nordstrom. As Hazel Goodnight said to Gerta over at the bakery, “We don’t hear from her for years, and now she’s coming home and marrying a total stranger.”

“Not only that,” said Gerta, handing Hazel a large cream puff in a small pink box, “he’s from Texas!”

Ingrid’s young man, Ray Wallace, was a lot like her father. He loved a smart woman, and he had been mad for Ingrid the first day he met her. He pursued her all through the first two years of school, mostly being turned down. But one day, while they were in the middle of a class, and out of the clear blue sky, she decided she loved him and told him she would marry him right after graduation. He had nearly fainted, and Ingrid continued dissecting the large bull cadaver on the table. She was fascinated with its reproductive system, in comparison to that of the equine family.

The couple, along with his parents and brothers and sisters, arrived in town the day before the big ceremony. The wedding party was mostly a family affair. Ingrid’s brother, Ted, baked the wedding cake and also walked her down the aisle. Her sister-in-law Gerta was matron of honor, and her cousin, seventeen-year-old Beatrice Olsen, was a bridesmaid. And last, but not least, Katrina and Lordor’s grandson, little four-year-old Gene Nordstrom, who was the ring bearer. They all talked about how sad it was that Lordor and Katrina had not lived to see this day.

Everyone in town came, except Morris Shingle. He was still afraid of Ingrid, after she’d socked him in the nose that time, so he just skulked in the bushes, watching through the window. However, he did send his little boy, Lester, into the reception to steal a piece of cake.



EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, before the couple left for their honeymoon, Lordor Nordstrom looked up and was surprised to see their daughter, Ingrid, standing above them. “Katrina, wake up!” he said.

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