The Alpine Kindred Read Online Free Page A

paper was almost put to bed. “I think he's more bark than bite.”
    “Good,” I remarked from my perch on her desk where I was proofing the cutline for the accident picture. “No injuries. That's good, too.” Two of the three vehicles, all driven by local residents, had rear-ended each other when the first had stopped short at one of Alpine's few traffic lights. Carla had managed to catch the drivers as they'd emerged from their cars and were shaking their fists in anger. I recognized an Olson, an Iverson, and a Swanson.
    “I'll get the proofs back tomorrow from Buddy Bayard's,” Carla said, referring to the local photography studio that handled our developing. “I hated to do it, Emma, but I told Mr. Einarssen he could have a look.”
    I glanced up from Carla's copy on the Bourgette project. “You did?” I tried not to let subjects interfere— or censor, as I termed it in the darker corner of my freepress soul—with either text or visuals. But sometimes accommodations had to be made. “Well, it shouldn't be a problem. It's pretty standard stuff, isn't it? And by the way, it's Rasmussen, not Einarssen.”
    “Whatever.” Carla shrugged. “Actually, I got him to stand on his head.”
    My eyes widened. “You did? He could, at his age?”
    At her desk, Vida harrumphed. “Einar Jr.'s not as old as I am. Why shouldn't he stand on his head?”
    I tried to imagine Vida doing likewise. The vision was awesome.
    “I think he got a charge out of it,” Carla said, exhibiting her dimples. “Mr. Einarssen has a frisky side.”
    “Rasmussen,”
I repeated. I'd definitely have to check Carla's outline for accuracy. Only last week she'd typed Ku Klutz Klan into an article about Mayor Fuzzy Baugh's youth in Louisiana and his allegedly valiant stand against the KKK.
    The Bourgette story read well, however. Dan and John had nailed down the title, and taken out a loan to buy the property from the city. The terms were generous, since Mayor Fuzzy was probably glad to get the fire-scarred eyesore off his hands.
    “Say,” I said, finishing the story, “how come Einar Jr. is so down on the Bourgette brothers? He was very critical of them when he was in here yesterday.”
    Vida eyed me over the rims of her glasses. “Really, Emma! Don't you know?”
    I shook my head. “Know what? He said they weren't as smart as his son, Beau. The Bourgettes didn't have business sense.”
    “Einar Jr. would say anything derogatory about the Bourgettes,” Vida responded. “They're his nephews.”
    I was surprised—and puzzled. “Why is that? A familyfeud?” The Hatfields and McCoys had nothing on Alpine. Internecine quarrels were as common as gopher holes.
    “Of course.” Vida stood up, crossed the room, and handed me “Scene Around Town.” “Mary Jane Ras-mussen Bourgette is Einar Jr. and Harold's sister. She married a Catholic. Naturally, that didn't set well with Einar Sr. and his wife, Thyra. They're Lutheran to their toes.”
    I frowned at Vida. “You teased me about forgetting Harold Rasmussen. Now you tell me there's a Mary Jane, too? Did you forget her until now?”
    Vida looked vaguely sheepish. “Not exactly. It's just that when Mary Jane and Dick got married almost forty years ago, the rest of the Rasmussens cut them off. I suppose I don't think of them as having anything to do with the rest of the family, because they don't. Besides, the Bourgettes only moved to Alpine two years ago when Dick started working as an electrical subcontractor on the college construction. Dan and John joined their father, but now they want to branch out. Dick and Mary Jane had lived in Monroe until then, and I understand they wanted more space to entertain their grandchildren. The Bourgettes have quite a brood.”
    I realized then that I'd seen members of the Bourgette clan at Mass only in the past couple of years. Vaguely, I recalled Vida's story on the family and how they'd taken up residence in the old Doukas house on First Hill. But of