Authors: Nancy Frederick
"Quentin?"
"Yes, I'm retired you know.
Quentin is good though, so don't worry.
You come on over here and I'll give you some cash."
The tears streamed from Annabeth's eyes.
"Oh, Dad," was all she could say.
"And you ought to change the lock on your front door, just in case.
You have that handyman, right?"
"Yes, I could get him to do it."
"Okay, dear, the cash'll be waiting.
I need to run now, but I'll brief Quentin.
You just do what he says."
Will spoke worriedly into the phone.
"And dear?
Will you be needing to come home to live, you think?"
"Oh, Dad, no, of course not."
The following day, in Sally's car, Annabeth dropped off her daughter at work, then she met with Quentin at her father's office.
After attending to the legal matters that the young attorney deemed necessary, she drove toward the Ford dealer.
Doug Hawkins smiled as she looked in the door of his office.
"Annabeth.
Come on in."
He rose and walked around his desk, touching her shoulder, then indicating that she should be seated.
"I have your estimate right here."
Annabeth glanced at the sheet of paper detailing the various things wrong with her car and the dollar amounts it would take to repair them.
While she reviewed the list, she noticed Doug looking at her.
His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be deep in thought, as though he were remembering something painful from the past.
He looked off into the distance, out the window of his office, toward where his brother stood talking to a customer, then back toward Annabeth, then outside yet again.
He cocked his head ever so slightly to one side, started to speak, but remained silent.
Annabeth replaced the estimate on the desk.
It was a huge amount of money.
She had been hoping that the money she'd borrowed from her father would cover the repairs, but it wasn't nearly enough.
She shook her head.
What was she going to do?
"It's a lot of money, I know," volunteered Doug.
"I would suggest you think about replacing that vehicle rather than repairing it."
Annabeth bit her lip nervously, looking first down at the repair estimate then into Doug's eyes.
There was something in his gaze that relaxed her, and she spoke unselfconsciously, "I don't think I can afford to do either one.
I'm in the process of getting a divorce.
Everything is very complicated right now."
His voice grew soft and sympathetic.
"I'm sorry.
I was divorced myself a couple of years ago.
Hardest thing I ever went through."
She shook her head in agreement.
"I bet.
Have kids?"
"They're grown, a girl and a boy.
Back in Atlanta with their mother."
"Must be strange to come back here after life in the big city."
"I was ready for a change.
It's actually been relaxing to be back here, working with my dad.
I was a financial analyst for years.
Now I'm just a car salesman."
He smiled at her in a pleasantly self-effacing way.
"You were always good at getting people to do what you wanted them to."
He had a nice face, warm sparkly eyes, and she felt comfortable with him.
"I was?"
"Remember when you organized that whole rally and we thought we'd get in trouble but you got the teachers to join in?"
"And you drew all the signs."
"That's right," they said simultaneously.
"Remember," he started, but was interrupted by the parts' manager who had a question.
Annabeth rose then, saying. "I better let you get back to work."
"We can hold onto the car for a few days while you think about your options," he said kindly.
"Thanks so much.
That would be a great help."
He rose and walked around his desk to where she stood, saying "I hope everything works out the way you want it to."
Annabeth looked into Doug's eyes and smiled at him, "Thanks.
That's so nice of you to say."
She glanced at her watch as she drove away from the dealership.
There was plenty of time before she needed to pick up Sally.
She had tried to call Maggie for the past two mornings, but she had been out.
Surely by now she would be at home--babysitting little Peter.
"Yes?" asked Maggie coldly.
Annabeth scrutinized Maggie's face.
"Hi, I'm glad you're here."
"What's up?" Maggie did not move away from the door or invite Annabeth in.
"I'm sorry about the whole Jambalaya mess.
Everyone recovered?"
"You had to have your way about the menu.
Nobody is still sick as far as I know.
Assuming any of them are still talking to me."
"Is Jackson all right?"
"He's heartbroken as a matter of fact.
You sure got your way about everything didn't you?"
"What?" Annabeth was incredulous.
"You went to a lot of trouble to break those kids up.
Are you happy now?
Look, I have to go in.
Peter needs me."
Maggie backed up a few steps and then closed the door as Annabeth stood there amazed.
Maggie somehow believed that she had deliberately sabotaged the party.
Annabeth shook her head.
What next?
She drove back toward the bank.
In an hour or so Sally would be off for the day.
After parking the car, she stopped into the bakery and paid the balance owed on the cakes.
She had the money her father had loaned her, but that was it.
Annabeth glanced at her watch.
It was still half an hour until Sally got off.
She couldn't just sit around waiting.
She had bills to pay.
It was time she did something on her own.
Taking a deep breath, Annabeth entered Etta's Knick Knack Shop.
"Do you still need me to paint some things for you?"
"You've changed your mind?"
Annabeth nodded.
"Great!
Now let's see." Etta walked through the shop, pulling items her husband had made and stacking them together by the cash register.
"Can you get all that done in time?"
"Yes, I paint pretty quickly.
Do you have any idea how much money they will bring in?"
Annabeth took a big gulp and then continued, "I'm getting divorced and I need to make some money."
There.
She had said it.
It was getting easier and easier to admit the truth.
"Let's see," said Etta, pulling a sheet of paper from the file drawer in her desk and scribbling on it.
She gave an estimate of Annabeth's possible earnings then said, "Maybe a little more if they sell right away and I don't have to reduce them."
Annabeth nodded again.
"That's great."
It was money all right, but not very much.
There was no way she could make a living painting on furniture.
"Did you want a small advance on them?"
"No, that's not necessary.
You pay me when you sell them.
But Etta--what if nobody wants them?"
"I'll pay you no matter what, but somebody will want them, I'm sure.
And then maybe you can paint more for me."
"Okay," agreed Annabeth, still worried that Etta would lose money on her work.
She walked toward Gleason's Drug Store, which was perpendicular to the bank.
The Help Wanted sign was still in the window.
Thinking about her father and the concern in his voice when he asked her would she be returning home to live, Annabeth steeled her nerve and decided to take a risk.
They probably wouldn't want to hire her, but she was going to ask anyway.
"Hello," she said to Chuck Gleason.
"I was wondering about the job."
"Oh. Yes, we need help at the soda fountain.
And sometimes at the cash register.
The job only pays four..." Chuck looked at Annabeth, and he continued, "Well, all right, five dollars an hour.
Interested?"
"Yes I am."
"Would Wednesday be too soon?
I can't get a delivery of supplies before then."
"Wednesday will be just perfect."
He wanted her!
Just like that!
Annabeth couldn't believe it; somebody gave her a job!
Sally was waiting with Jackson at the car when Annabeth returned.
"Hi, Mom."
Annabeth smiled at the kids, saying, "Guess what?
I just got a job!"
"Doing what?" asked Sally.
Annabeth laughed.
"I'm Gleason's new soda jerk!"
"Oh, Mom, you shouldn't have to do that all day long.
That's a job for a kid."
"Congratulations," said Jackson.
"I think I'm lucky they wanted me.
So what are you kids up to?"
"Jackson wants me to go to dinner with him.
You don't mind do you?"
"Of course not.
You go on.
I'll see you later."
Annabeth drove back toward home, thinking about all the events of the day.
She would have to sit down with Maggie and work through the whole misunder-standing.
For the first time since her mother died, Annabeth really needed Maggie, and the thought of anger between them was really too much to bear.
She pulled up at the side of the house where she usually parked--in front of R.J.'s collection of heaps. R.J. himself was on a ladder in front of the house, painting the trim, covering over all the designs she had painted.
"What are you doing?" Annabeth spoke to R.J., who was balancing himself on the tall ladder which had been propped against the front of the house.
"I'm gettin' this place ready to sell.
Can't have all these tacky gee-gaws plastered all over the place."
Annabeth thought about the events of the last few weeks.
She remembered the humiliation of the party.
She thought about her car and the trouble it had caused her for months.
What was the point of being married to an ex-mechanic if you had to drive a car that wouldn't run?
Instead of tears rising up into her eyes, anger flooded her heart.
It was an unusual sensation for Annabeth, but one which felt appropriate at last.
She reached out toward the ladder where her husband perched and gave it a tentative shake.
"Now this is the way it's going to be," she said.
"You get down off that ladder, and you better make it quick or I'll help you down.
You get in your van and drive out of here.
This is my home and you're not taking it from me.
You want a divorce.
Fine.
Call my lawyer.
In the meantime, I don't expect you to show your face around here.
I'm finished with you, R.J. Welner."
R.J. looked astonished.
These were the first angry words she had ever spoken to him.
He grasped the ladder more tightly as she gave it another tentative shake.
The can of paint fell from his hand, spattering the grass below.
Annabeth shook the ladder a bit harder then watched her husband scramble down.
When he was three steps from the ground she had the urge to topple it completely.
In her mind she could see him sprawled on the ground, and she laughed at the vision.
By then R.J. had stepped down and was staring at her.
"What are you laughin' at?"
"Get out of here."
Annabeth watched as her husband drove away, then she let herself into the house, using the shiny new key which came with the lock Rum had installed.
She went into the kitchen, flipped open the phone book, and dialed Sam's Junk Yard, R.J.'s favorite auto salvage place.