Cold River (17 page)

Mo finally looked at Mandy. The color had drained out of his face, making his moustache a dark pencil line. “I don’t want to… It’s not worth… You don’t understand. Grange brings lots of money to the district. Lots of money. He practically funds the whole music program.”

She frowned. “But what’s that got to do with Vince and cooking the books?”

Mo opened the door. “I’m not going to be the one to explain it to you.” He scrambled out. “I need to get going. Will you open the trunk?”

She pulled the lever to pop it open and waited for him to retrieve his briefcase. She rolled down the window and called. “Thank you for coming, Mo. It was a most educational day.”

He closed the trunk and bent down to look in. A light, misty rain beaded up on his bare scalp. “You’re welcome, Dr. Steenburg.”

“Call me Mandy, please.”

He stepped away. “I don’t know if I can.” He waved his free arm in farewell and turned to go.

She paused only a moment before putting the car in gear and pulling away.

As she drove, she took her planner out of her purse and laid it on the passenger seat, open to the list she had made before she went to bed last night. But her mind wouldn’t focus on the tasks she had set for herself. It kept returning to Mo’s cryptic comments:
Grange brings lots of money to the district. Lots of money. I’m not going to be the one to explain it you.

“Explain what?” she asked aloud. She pictured Grange in her mind, with that sinister, frozen half of his face distorting every expression. “Where would he get that much money? And is that why the school board is so anxious to hold on to him? Is it really his sterling leadership abilities?”

Mandy had an uncomfortable ride home. She squirmed in her seat, trying to get rid of the crawly feeling up her back. Something wasn’t right, and she was afraid she was going to end up in the middle of it and perhaps be tarred by association.

When she pulled up in front of her house, she turned off the key and made herself focus on the list in her planner. She had marked everything off except three tasks:
Call Granny Timberlain. Talk to Tammy Wilcox. Make appointment to rotate tires.
She looked at her watch and decided she could probably still do them all, so she stuffed her planner back in her purse and got out of the car.

As Mandy reached the top of the porch steps, she noticed a shoebox sitting in front of the door. She stopped mid-stride and looked at it. “Oh no,” she said, picking it up. “You’re not going to catch me twice.”

She set her purse by the door, descended the steps, and walked purposefully around to where the garbage can was sitting by the back deck. Opening the lid, she set the unopened box on top of the stack of plastic-bagged refuse and slammed the lid down with a satisfactory bang. She dusted off her hands and went back around to unlock the front door.

Leesie had said she was staying after school for some sort of practice, so Mandy didn’t expect her for at least another hour. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and hung up her jacket, then sat on the bed to make her phone calls. Granny Timberlain didn’t answer, but Tammy sounded glad to get the call and said tomorrow afternoon would be a good time to talk.

Stevie Joe at Limestone Garage said he could rotate Mandy’s tires if she would come by after work the coming Monday. She got directions to the garage and wrote them down on Monday’s page, then closed her planner with a snap and carried it down to put in her purse.

She was halfway down the stairs when she saw Fran pull up in her pickup. Mandy waved at her through the window and went to open the door. “Hi Fran,” she called as her friend got out with a can of paint in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping my sister get settled.”

Fran came in and took her shoes off, setting them neatly by the door. “She said you didn’t know she was coming. Were you surprised?”

“Was I ever!”

“I didn’t have any idea you were Conroy Wheeler’s daughter,” Fran said, looking around.

“Stepdaughter, actually. Isn’t that something that your sister worked for him? What are you looking for?”

“Something to set this paint can on that will protect the countertop. A piece of cardboard or something?”

“Out on the back deck.” The phone rang, and as Mandy ran up the stairs, she called, “Go ahead and look around out there. I’m sure there’s something.” She caught the phone on the third ring. It was Tammy calling with directions to her house. Mandy thanked her for remembering she was new in town, then hung up and hurried down the stairs to write the directions in her planner before she forgot them.

She was just putting it away when Fran walked in with the shoebox. “Are you feeling all right?”

Mandy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I found this in the garbage. I thought you loved cream-filled goodies.”

Mandy held out her hand. “What are you talking about? What’s in the box?”

“You mean you don’t know? What’s it doing in the garbage, then?” Fran handed her the box but kept the lid. “To put under my paint can,” she explained.

Mandy looked inside. The box was lined with crumpled-up tissue upon which sat a single homemade éclair, frosted with chocolate icing and chock-full of cream filling. A small envelope sat by it, with “Welcome” written in a quivery hand across the front. Mandy set the box on the table, picked up the envelope, and drew out a small card with a picture of a hummingbird on the front. “Join us at church this Sunday,” it said.

Mandy turned the card over, but there was nothing else to indicate who had brought it.

“Who is it from?” called Fran from the kitchen.

“I’m not sure. Sounds like someone from church.”

“What’s it doing in the garbage, then?”

Mandy laughed. “It’s a long story.” She carried the box to the kitchen. “Here, I’ll share this with you while I tell you about it. You don’t mind that it’s been in the garbage, do you?”

Fran shook her head. “Too many carbs for me. But you go ahead. I’ll listen while I paint.”

“What are you painting?”

“The insides of these cupboard doors. I only got one coat on them.”

“Nonsense. They look great.”

“Now they do, but they won’t stand up to lots of scrubbing. If I spend the time now to do a second coat, I won’t have to strip and repaint later. Now, why was the box in the garbage?”

Mandy took a bite of the éclair, and as she explained about the contents of the first shoebox that had been left on the deck, she found that she could speak of the stinkbugs with ease and humor.

“Kids,” Fran said when Mandy had finished. “What a rude thing to do.”

“Well, it really was high spirits, I’m sure. I’m an authority figure, which makes me fair game to a teenage mind. It was a harmless prank.” She held up the goodie. “Are you sure you don’t want some of this? It’s really excellent. The filling is almond flavored and has something in it that’s got some texture. Maybe it’s coconut.”

Fran jiggled the can to mix the paint. “Sounds entirely too rich for me. So, how are things going at school?”

Mandy shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know, Fran. If I hadn’t signed a year’s lease, I might not stick it out even to the end of the year.”

Fran paused in the act of opening the can. “You’re not serious. What’s wrong?”

Mandy licked some cream off her fingers. “Well, for starters, Grange Timberlain seems to think he’s still in charge, and he’s not the only one who thinks so. Two-thirds of the school board support him.”

“How do you know?”

“They told me. Said I should listen to Grange. He’s a leader.”

“Be fair,” Fran said. “He’s done a pretty good job so far.”

“Well, math scores are up, but reading scores are below state average. Way below, and as far as I can see there’s no plan to address that.” Mandy took a bite of éclair and added thickly, “Yet.”

Fran sat on the floor and opened a cupboard door. “So what I’m hearing is, you see this district as a challenge. You’re not really thinking about leaving, are you?”

“Who wants to stay where they’re not wanted? There’s a school up in the bush in Alaska that wanted me. The money is great. They provide housing and a trip out each summer, and I could really do some good there. I could make a difference.”

“Is the position still open?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t inquired because I signed the lease. I feel that, if only for that reason, I’m committed here.”

Fran sat back on her heels. “I don’t want to be the reason you stay if you’re going to be miserable. If you’ve got someplace else where you can make a difference, then let’s see if we can work something out.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Mandy took the last bite and took a pot from the cupboard. “Leesie gets soup tonight. I’ve had my supper.”

Fran didn’t look up from her painting. “Carb city.”

“So, tell me,” Mandy said, “where does Grange’s money come from? Was it a settlement for his face?”

Fran stopped with brush in midair and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean––” Mandy suddenly clutched her belly.

“What’s the matter? You’re as white as a sheet!”

“Ugh,” Mandy groaned. “I don’t know. I had a cramp all of a sud—” She didn’t finish the sentence, for saliva poured into her mouth as a tsunami of nausea swept over her, and she made a lunge for the sink.

Fran got rid of the paint can and scrambled to her feet. She stood by as Mandy’s body convulsed, giving up the éclair and the tuna sandwich she had for lunch at the grade school cafeteria. Fran wet a rag and wiped Mandy’s forehead and cheeks and turned on the tap to flush the vomit down the drain.

Mandy tried to say thanks, but the room began to spin, and it took all her conscious effort to stay upright. She clung to the sink, but an ebony ring haloed the outer edge of her vision and began to close in. A buzzing sound grew louder and louder until the darkness was complete, and then, from far away, she heard Fran saying, “I can’t hold you.”

After that, she floated through obscurity punctuated by sensory islands, sometimes sight, sometimes sound, sometimes both, but all with a surreal, dreamlike skew. Leesie’s voice calling her Dr. Sweetiebug hailed her in from the flow, but as she opened her eyes, she was hit by another wave of nausea, and she struggled to get up on her elbow. A strong hand supported her head. Someone said, “Use the basin,” and held it for her as she retched again.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she was gently laid back down, but her benefactor had turned into Grange Timberlain, only his face wasn’t contorted. As he smiled encouragement, both sides of his mouth turned up. When she opened her eyes again, Rael was beside her, calling her by name.

“Yes,” she answered, but the darkness swallowed him up, and she never heard what he had to say to her.

IT WAS ALMOST
noon before Mandy made it to work the next day.

Leesie, driving her home from a night spent in the emergency room at Hiesel Valley Hospital, tried to insist that she go home and go to bed, but Mandy overruled her. They went to the A-frame so both could shower and change and then Mandy dropped Leesie off at the high school.

“You’re sure?” Leesie furrowed her brow. “You’re still pale, and your eyes have dark circles under them.”

“I’ll be fine. As good as you, anyway. You were the one that was up all night.”

Leesie grinned. “Just half the night. You finally settled down around two. So, what do they think it was? Food poisoning?”

“Probably. That’s why I’m so determined to get in to work. If it was the tuna sandwich, we may have other cases we have to deal with. So out you go.”

Leesie leaned over and kissed her sister. “Bye, Sweetiebug.”

“Bye.” Mandy leaned back against the headrest and watched her bounce up the stairs. Then she drove to the district offices.

Willow Timberlain was out at the reception desk talking to Elizabeth when Mandy stepped through the door. Both girls fell silent and stared as Mandy walked past with a nod in their direction. She felt their eyes following her as she leaned on the railing for support and plodded up the stairs.

Mo came to his doorway as she rested on the landing. “Can I help?”

She shook her head and turned to cross the mezzanine above the entryway, pausing again opposite Grange’s door because her legs were turning to rubber.

Grange, standing at his file cabinet, looked her way and dropped the papers in his hand. He wrenched open his door, but got no farther than his doorway, because at that moment Vince burst in downstairs shouting, “Mandy!” He ran across the reception area, leaving the high school girls gaping as he took the stairs two at a time.

When he gained the landing, he hurried to Mandy. Turning his back on Grange, he put a supporting arm around her waist. “What are you doing here?” he asked fiercely. “I just came from the hospital. I can’t believe they released you.”

“Oh, Vince, don’t make more of it than it is,” she said. “Will you help me to my office? My knees seem to have gone south on me.” As he bent to scoop her up, she wrenched away. “No, Vince. You’re not going to carry me. I will walk. Just support me.”

His hand stayed on her waist, and his face was still close to hers as she held his gaze and clenched her jaw. His mouth compressed in a straight line, and they engaged in a brief skirmish of wills.