Earnest (19 page)

C
HAPTER
37

J
eff scanned the library's meeting room for Anna and Earnest. The library staff had invited them to the reading program's graduation because Earnest had been a crucial volunteer. Jeff spotted them on the front row of molded plastic chairs and gathered strength for an evening of his and Anna's stilted conversation—such as, “The rain has stopped.” He walked down the center aisle toward them.

Anna had saved him a place, a surprise. When Earnest saw Jeff, he tugged at his leash to get to him—and Anna let him go. As always, he whined and wagged his tail so it thumped against the knees of people on the aisle, but no one seemed to mind. As he hurried to Jeff, friendly hands reached out to pet him.

“Hey, Earnest!” Jeff said.

Earnest danced around Jeff 's legs and whimpered what he always did:
You're here! You're here!

Jeff led him back to Anna and sat down next to her. “Hello,” he said. If enthusiasm had a heartbeat, his would have measured as a flatliner.

“Hi,” she said.

“Four score and seven years ago,” Jeff half joked to fill the empty verbal space.

Anna almost smiled.
Amazing. Another surprise.

“Three blind mice. See how they run,” she answered.

“So how's it going?”

“Fine.”

“Busy?”

“Very. You?”

“Very.”
So that about covers things.

The green Martian flicking his antennae in the corner and being ignored was the planning commission's vote. Any day now Jeff and Anna would learn their decision, and Jeff was sure that she was waiting for it with breath as bated as his was. He'd bet she lay in bed at night, gnashing her teeth and telepathically begging the commission to disapprove of Cedar Place. Of course, he was doing the same thing, only begging for approval. Many times a day, he beamed his wish toward city hall:
Vote for my project!

For a moment, Jeff resented his and Anna's collision course all over again, but then he thought that now was not the time to dwell on it. This evening was about Earnest and his contribution to the reading program.

For the last four years, the library board's chairman had been none other than old Mr. Webster, Anna's neighbor and now, after his curmudgeonly comments at the planning commission meeting, Jeff's foe. Refusing to be a petty carrier of grudges, however, Jeff tucked his pique into his pocket. He nodded cordially at Mr. Webster as he stepped up to the front of the room.

Mr. Webster had dressed up for tonight's graduation by hiding his hallmark long underwear beneath a plaid wool shirt. He'd combed back his flyaway white wisps of hair, and his ruddy face shone from a recent scrubbing. He set a cardboard box on the table that stood under a bulletin board, and turned around to face the audience.

“We're here to present certificates to everyone who took part in our last reading program,” he began. “I've heard what a great class you kids have been. You're reading above your grade level now, and I understand that Earnest encouraged you to read aloud. I want to congratulate you for your hard work.”

A murmur went through the audience. Parents wrapped their arms around their second graders' shoulders. Having heard his name, Earnest raised his head and moved his ears forward, his sign that he knew he was being discussed.

“Okay. First is Billy Carcionni. Come up here.” With all the formality Mr. Webster could scrape out of himself, he held out a certificate. “Your dad's our fire marshal, Billy. You've got a lot to live up to.”

As Billy approached in his Cub Scout uniform, his mother said, “Ted couldn't be here tonight. He's on duty.” Her camera flashed as Billy shook Mr. Webster's hand.

“Now Katherine Franklin,” Mr. Webster called.

Jeff leaned back in his chair and straightened out his legs. He folded his arms across his chest. The parade of students coming up to Mr. Webster pleased Jeff—everybody winning, verbal pats on the back, goals achieved.

Jeff's father had never shown up for evenings like this, and often his mother had missed them for work. But if Jeff had a kid, he'd crawl over broken glass to get to these events and be a good dad. He'd take his child for ice cream to celebrate finishing the reading program. He'd frame a photo of his child shaking Mr. Webster's hand, and keep the picture on his desk. He'd attach the certificate to the refrigerator door with silver star-shaped magnets.

Having his own family was a pleasant prospect. He'd wanted it with Anna. It seemed like ten years ago.

Though Jeff was facing Mr. Webster, he could watch Anna out of the corner of his eye. She sat there like she'd been whittled out of oak, and she was squinting as she did when she was sitting on a powder keg of feelings. Surely on this graduation night, she wasn't obsessing about her grandmother's house, but maybe she was. Or maybe, like him, these children made her think about the family she wanted and didn't have.

He and Anna had talked about their hypothetical family. They'd agreed that they'd gladly work themselves to nubs being conscientious parents. They'd lead scout troops and drive car pools. She'd bake thousands of cookies, and he'd shepherd kids on dozens of hikes. On Christmas Eves, they'd stay up all night assembling rocking horses and jungle gyms. Jeff and Anna would hug their kids so often that they'd wear holes in their skin.

Compelling thoughts, but pointless,
Jeff concluded with a pang.
That hypothetical family is not going to happen. Not with Anna, anyway.

After Peony Yee came up in her ruffled pink dress to receive the last certificate, Mr. Webster took a picture frame out of his cardboard box. “Now we're going to honor our team's hardest-working member. I'd like to call Earnest up here. For four months he's shown up every Monday afternoon and devoted himself to you kids. He knew just when to encourage you and when to let you flounder till you could encourage yourselves.”

Jeff looked at Anna just as she looked at him. For a moment, all hard feelings seemed to wash away through a storm drain and get swallowed by the sea. Anna handed the leash to Jeff so he could lead Earnest to his award. Jeff took her gesture as generous, thoughtful.

At the front of the room, he, Anna, and Earnest faced the graduating class and their parents. Mr. Webster turned the picture frame around so everyone could see. “On the top it says, ‘Public Library, City of Gamble, State of Washington,' and Earnest's name is inscribed below.” He lowered the frame to Earnest's eyes. “That's your name right there.” Mr. Webster pointed to it.

He read, “Be it hereby known, because of your demonstration of loyalty and dedication, meriting our great trust and respect, we are pleased to award you this citation with sincere gratitude for your generous service to the Gamble Public Library and its reading program. Signed Mary McGregor, Librarian, February 10, 2014.”

Earnest acted as if the citation were just another people cracker. He was glad, but he didn't make a fuss. However, Jeff's heart swelled like it might thump out of his chest. “In sincere appreciation . . . meriting trust and respect . . . loyalty and dedication.”
Those were heady words.

Jeff grinned till his cheeks hurt. He and Anna bent down and hugged Earnest together as the audience rose for a standing ovation.

“Good job, Earnest. We're proud of you.” Jeff patted his back.

Anna kissed his forehead and left another lipstick print, but Jeff didn't mind.

“I'm speaking for all of us when I thank Earnest for what he's done here,” Mr. Webster said. “I know you kids want to thank him yourselves, so why don't you come up here and pet him?”

All talking at once, a mob of children descended on Jeff, Anna, and Earnest. When the students jostled them, Anna nearly lost her balance. Jeff reached around her shoulder to steady her. It felt so good to hold her that he left his arm there. To his amazement, she leaned against him just like in the old days.

Earnest, with dignity, accepted the pets of small hands and the thanks of his many young friends. When he looked up at Jeff and Anna, he must have noted their unexpected closeness. His eyes lit up. His ears rose, attentive. His wagging tail said,
Wow! My people are together!

C
HAPTER
38

“B
ad news.” Jeff handed Brian Cooper a letter from David Connolly, the planning commission's chairman. Connolly had just rankled Jeff as much as Mad Dog Horowitz had. In the mailroom, Jeff's first thought had been to bring the letter to his boss for guidance and commiseration. “Damn them. It's not fair,” Jeff said.

“Life isn't fair,” Brian reminded him.

“I've worked my ass off on that project. Their decision is a slap in my face.”

“Hard work doesn't always mean success. You know as well as I do that projects get derailed for all kinds of crazy reasons,” Brian said.

“The reasons in that letter are
ridiculous.
”

“Calm down, boy.” As Brian read the letter, he pushed his wire-framed bifocals higher up the bridge of his bulbous nose. He whispered a few bulleted paragraph headings to himself. “Hummm. Size . . . Traffic . . . Heritage tree.” When he finished the second page, he gave the letter back to Jeff. “Sounds like they're looking for nits to pick.”

“Same nits that got picked at the commission's meeting. Anna knows half the town, and she persuaded all her friends to come and speak. The whole thing was practically rigged.” Jeff's jaw was stiff enough to shovel sand.

“I take it you and Anna haven't gotten back together.”

“Never.” Jeff dug his fingernails into his palm. “I could argue against every word in that letter.”

“Then do. You don't have to sit there and take their decrees.”

“What if you can't fight city hall?”

“You're not fighting city hall. This is only the planning commission's opinion. They don't have the last say,” Brian said.

“My planner told me the commission influences his decision. The sadistic bastard.”

“Plenty of them in the business. The power goes to their heads.” Brian took a sip of coffee from his mug bearing a Frank Lloyd Wright logo.

“I'm not sure what to do,” Jeff said.

“Simple. Call your planner. State your case before the commission has a chance to sway him.” Brian set his mug on a red ceramic coaster. “Remember, it's not over till the fat lady sings.”

 

Jeff punched numbers on his phone, fumbled, and started over. Not helping was, first, the bandage on his index finger, which he'd cut last weekend on Earnest's dog food can. And, second, Jeff's anger. When wasps were buzzing in his heart, it was not a good time to make this call.

He hung up, buried his face in his hands to block out the world, and breathed slowly to the pit of his stomach. After ten breaths, the wasps had calmed down.
You can't let that smug gorilla get to you. Keep your cool,
Jeff told himself.

This time he dialed more smoothly. To his surprise, Grabowski answered and spared Jeff the indignity of leaving a groveling message that asked for a return call.

“I've been looking over the planning commission's letter. I want to talk with you about it,” Jeff said.

“Shoot.”

As in, fire away and state your case, or shoot somebody? Both might fit.
“Point by point?”

Grabowski seemed to snicker, though Jeff couldn't tell for sure. “Point by point is as good a way to proceed as any,” he said. “I've read the letter. It mentions some of the issues I warned you about when you filed your application.”

“You didn't say Cedar Place would be too big, but the commission did.” Jeff took another calming breath. “The design follows the code to the letter, and I've allowed more space than required for the sidewalk and parking. The building's not any bigger than the library, post office, or Thrifty Market. Nobody argued about them.”

“The commission is talking more about aesthetics. They probably think Cedar Place would be a Gas-X building. You know that ad. People puffed up like someone's pumped air into them.” Grabowski chortled.
Har! Har! Har!

Jeff wished he could reach through the phone and grab him by his flea-infested beard. “The building is well proportioned,” Jeff said. “And that brings me to the second point. I designed it in the Pacific Northwest architectural style so it will fit in downtown. Nobody can say it'll change the character when it's no different from lots of the houses that are already there.”

“Except it's bigger. The commission's more concerned about size than style. They don't want some building dwarfing everything around it.”

“Nobody thinks the library, post office, and Thrifty Market are dwarfing other buildings.”

“So you said. Anything else?”

The abruptness of that question let Jeff know that Grabowski wasn't interested in arguments. He was closing his door.

Jeff stuck a mental foot in it. “Yes, something else. The traffic,” he insisted. “How can a few shops cause smog and traffic jams. We could have gone for a big-box store that
really
would have a made a difference.”

“Traffic depends on your perspective. If you're a neighbor, a few more cars impact your life. So does demolishing a historic house and cutting down a heritage tree if you're used to seeing them every day. The change would unsettle neighbors,” Grabowski said.

“The house needs a lot of work, and Mrs. Blackmore has no plans to fix it. Surely the neighbors would rather live around a nice new building than a mess,” Jeff said.

“Tell that to the historical society.”

There is no persuading this oaf.
“How much weight do you give the planning commission's vote?”

“We certainly consider it.” Grabowski laughed again. “We'll continue to study your proposal. We'll get back to you.” He seemed to tap dance into the wings and leave Jeff blinking at an empty stage. A click let Jeff know that Grabowski had hung up.

Jeff slammed down his own phone. Grabowski's words could not have been less definite, but his tone told Jeff everything he needed to know. It had served him a heaping entrée of frustration and a side dish of anxiety, seasoned with a pinch of fear. If Jeff were going to serve Grabowski something in return, it would be stir-fried fury.

For a moment, Jeff imagined walking away from the project, telling Mrs. Blackmore sayonara and moving on. But then the fighter in him came out slugging. In life, you had to struggle for what you wanted. That was an unwritten law. Another was that obstacles always cropped up and tested your mettle.

As a child, Jeff had learned how to dodge the obstacles presented by his father. In college, Jeff had fought for his degree. And now it was time again to call on his determination. If Grabowski turned down the permit, there were always ways to appeal.