Authors: Emilie Richards
“Easy?” Wanda snorted. “You got a slow leak in your head somewhere? We’ve chased garbage trucks, hobnobbed with felons, hung out in bars, batted our eyelids at clerks down at city hall, read newspaper articles so old they turned to dust before we could finish them. Don’t you remember? This hasn’t been one bit easy.”
“Maybe not. Maybe it’s going to seem weird to have it over with.”
“Maybe it’s going to be great.”
“Tracy is afraid we will have no need to spend so much time together,” Janya said.
Tracy realized that, as usual, Janya was right. “Okay, I’ll get over it if you all promise to hang around.”
“Is anybody planning on going somewhere else?” Wanda asked.
Tracy didn’t dare tell them about the developers, who every day, according to Maribel, seemed closer to making an acceptable offer for Happiness Key.
Nobody spoke until they were skirting the banana and walking up to the house that had once belonged to Clyde Franklin, alias Herbert Krause.
“Okay, who’s going to do the talking?” Wanda asked.
“I guess I will.” Tracy licked her lips. “I just don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“Oh, grits and gravy, woman. You should have been practicing all these months. How much more time do you need?”
Tracy knocked, but Wanda gently pushed her aside. “You never seen one of these?” She turned a metal loop
that protruded from the door frame, and a doorbell clattered inside. The doorbell looked like original equipment.
“Sweet,” Tracy said. “So what, you shocked some poor little elf in the woodwork, and he ran up and hit the doorbell with a hammer?”
“Back before cell phones and the Internet, people still managed to get the job done.” Wanda twisted the loop again.
But the job didn’t get done, because nobody answered.
“I guess I’ll have to come back,” Tracy said.
There was a collective sigh. They’d been so close. Tracy took Alice’s arm to help her down the steps just as a car pulled into the driveway.
Tracy held up her hand to keep everyone where they were. A young woman, in age somewhere between Janya and Tracy, got out of the car. She had curly blond hair that just brushed her collar, and a slender figure. Before she started up the walkway, she went around and retrieved a small child from a car seat, then a bag of groceries from the passenger side The child was sound asleep, his blond hair a halo of ringlets. The woman must have seen them as she parked, because she didn’t look surprised to find them waiting for her.
“Carolers?” she joked once she got to the stoop. “It’s a little early, but I’m game.” She was pretty, a wholesome corn-fed beauty as pale as if she hailed from Wisconsin or Iowa.
Tracy stepped forward. “A lady down the road pointed us in this direction. She said you might be able to help us.”
“Well, you don’t look like muggers.” The woman handed her grocery bag to Tracy and gripped her son harder so he wouldn’t fall forward. “Hold this a sec, will
you? I’ll get the door.” She fished around inside her purse and pulled out a key.
She held it up for them to admire. “That’s the good thing about one of these old relics. It’s always the first thing I feel. It’s impossible to lose it.”
Tracy looked down at the key, then over to Janya. Janya was looking at the key, as well. Both women had seen one exactly like it. In fact, the key Herb had clutched in his hand as he died was now at home at the bottom of Tracy’s purse.
“Do you want me to unlock it for you? That’s really an antique, isn’t it?” Tracy wasn’t as good at disguising her feelings as Wanda. She knew she sounded elated, but the woman didn’t seem to notice.
“As old as the house. My mother gave it to me when I moved here.” She nodded at a new dead bolt inches above the knob. “There’s a modern lock, too, but I like to use this key. I guess it’s sentimental, but it’s the same one my grandmother used when she lived here.”
“You’re Louise Franklin’s granddaughter?”
The young woman turned, surprised. “How did you know her name? Voter rolls or something? I’d better warn you, I’m a Democrat. If you’re here to get me to register as anything else, you’ll do better somewhere else.”
“No.” Tracy drew a deep breath. “We, well, we didn’t know who you were. In fact, we just found out this was Louise’s house, and that her daughter, Pamela, still owns it.”
“Pamela’s my mother. Pamela Bishop. I’m Katie Bishop Ayres, only daughter and heir. Not, I hope, that there will be all that much to inherit. Mom and Dad deserve to enjoy retirement.” She leaned over carefully and inserted the key, playing with the lock until there was an audible click.
She faced them. “So what is this about? You’re not political, and if you sang ‘Silent Night,’ you did it silently.”
“We’re actually here because of a man named Herb Krause.”
Katie sobered. “Poor Herb. I heard he died. I guess there was no funeral?”
Tracy didn’t know what to say. “Well, no…”
“Were you friends of his?”
“Neighbors.”
“Please come in. You can explain inside where it’s cooler.” Katie opened the door and went in, leaving them to follow.
Tracy looked at the other women. Everybody appeared as perplexed as she felt. She shrugged and followed Katie into the kitchen. From the shape of the living room, she guessed the very front part was the missing porch, now enclosed. Katie tucked the little boy into a corner of an L-shaped sofa and put a cylindrical pillow in front of him. He slept on.
The kitchen was tiny, but the appliances looked newish, and the cabinets were a pretty white beadboard with mottled blue counters accenting them. Katie took the groceries from Tracy and set them on the counter.
“So you were Herb’s neighbors,” Katie said. “He stopped by a couple of times, just to make sure Frankie and I were doing okay. He was such a sweet old guy.”
Tracy was stumped. She didn’t know what to ask, but Wanda had no such problem.
“So you didn’t know him well?” She started unpacking the bag and handing the items to Katie to put away. A half gallon of milk. A loaf of French bread. Fresh mushrooms.
“Oh, no, not at all,” Katie said from inside the refrigerator. “But after the help he gave Mom all those years,
I was glad to make his acquaintance. She always said she couldn’t imagine what she would have done if Herb hadn’t been in charge here.”
Tracy repeated that. “In charge?”
“May I have a glass of water?” Olivia asked.
“You bet.” Katie closed the refrigerator and got a glass from the cupboard beside the sink. “Anybody else?”
The water break did nothing to help Tracy put the story together. “I’m sorry, Katie, but we’re, like, mega-confused here. Your mom knew Herb, too?”
“Well, not the way you know a good friend. But Herb took care of this property for years. And she met with him every time she had to come and check on it. She liked him a lot. She said he took care of the house and the yard like they were his. You can’t buy service like that.”
Tracy’s feelings must have been obvious, because Katie stopped talking. There was a long silence, and at last she said, “Maybe you just need to tell me what this is about.”
“I’m trying to think of a way,” Tracy said honestly. “It’s pretty big, Katie.”
“Herb left Mom a million dollars in his will?” She was joking, but she wasn’t smiling.
“No, but, well, he did leave her something. His name. Herb Krause wasn’t really Herb Krause at all. His real name was Clyde Franklin. He was your grandfather.”
Every surface of the Palmetto Grove Recreation Center had been cleaned and polished, and the hallways repainted and decorated with photo montages of the summer activities. The photos were Tracy’s idea, and some of the older campers had shown real ability in snapping, printing and presenting them. The floors in the classrooms gleamed, and the children she had tapped and trained to be guides were politely showing visitors through the complex.
“Everything came together so well. This is a big day, Tracy, and you’ve done most of it.” Gladys was all dressed up in a red skirt and blouse to support the shuffleboard team. Her hair had been styled, and she wore makeup. Woody, who was racing from one end of the building to the other to make sure he didn’t miss anybody, was wearing a suit.
Tracy was equally happy at the way the day was progressing. The Coastal Florida Shuffleboard Tournament was underway, and so far, everything was running
smoothly. The opening ceremonies had been upbeat, and the caterers, who had laid out a continental breakfast for the players, reported success. Now they were getting ready to serve lunch.
With rounds one and two completed, the home team was doing well. The adults were wiping up. They had already beaten their opponents from the yacht club, and Tracy felt sorry for Carol, the events coordinator. The youth camp kids had taken a beating, but their best players were competing in the afternoon rounds.
Downstairs the shuffle board was decked out in all their team finery, along with the special gold cue pins Tracy had bought for their shirts. A member of the women’s team had sewed a gold star on Mr. M.’s pocket, since he was the captain. Tracy hoped there might be more than a little Betsy Ross support going on there. She was rooting for them.
Now she gave Gladys a farewell wave. “I’d better go make sure lunch is ready. You’re coming down?”
“Can you hold up a minute, dear?”
Tracy skidded to a halt. “Do we have a problem I don’t know about?”
“Woody asked me to talk to you. He’ll track you down later to make this official, but it’s so crazy today…”
“Right.” Tracy smiled brightly. She wasn’t worried. The Woodleys seemed thrilled by the way everything was unfolding, and besides, her job ended this weekend. Monday she would come back to clean out her desk, but maternity leave was now up for Susan, the woman she had replaced. Whatever Tracy had done, for good or bad, she was finished.
“Woody’s going to ask you to stay on, Tracy. Everybody’s so pleased with your work here. You’re by far the best supervisor we’ve ever had.”
Tracy wasn’t sure she understood. “But Susan’s coming back next week.”
“She really doesn’t want to leave the babies, and, well…let’s just say Woody encouraged her to stay home with them. It’s a win-win for everybody.”
Tracy’s head was spinning. This was completely unexpected. “But she was so organized. I couldn’t have done it without all her notes. She even counted rolls of toilet paper and figured out how many trips to the bathroom we could count on from each one. I mean, get real, she factored in things none of the rest of us will ever want to think about. You can’t beat that.”
“Between us, she’s great with toilet paper and lists, but not half as good with kids as you are. You worked a few miracles here. Woody thinks you’re the right person to keep our program moving in the right direction and give us a fresh look. I know it’s a big job, but you won’t have to work quite so hard during the school year. You can take a nice long break over Christmas. I think you’ll like it. Say you’ll stay. There may even be a raise….”
“I… Well, I don’t know….”
“Think about it. You don’t have anything else lined up yet, do you?”
“No. No, it’s not that. It’s just that everything is changing. I can’t seem to keep up. The minute I figure out something, that changes, too.”
“Welcome to adulthood.”
Tracy wondered if she would ever feel at home in that particular locale.
“Maturity definitely has its finer points,” Gladys said, reading Tracy’s mind. “But I think you’ve experienced that already.”
Tracy knew she had just received Gladys’s final
approval. “You’re coming down to see the unveiling of the mural?”
“Of course I’m coming down to see your greatest achievement, dear. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Janya drove the two men in her life to the recreation center and parked at the back of the lot. She had tried to persuade them that there was no need to see the mural today. Instead she had promised a tour when the center was less crowded, but neither man would be persuaded. If the mural was a failure once it was unveiled, she had not wanted them to see her disgrace. But when she had hinted at this, they had only laughed at her.
Despite her worries, she was glad to have them with her. Yash was returning to India next week, so she wanted to spend as much time with her brother as she could. Once he was home, he planned to tell their parents he would not be pursuing a career in accounting. He would work for a year while he looked for the right university to study history, perhaps even here in the United States, where he could be close to Janya.
She would miss him terribly, but already Rishi was talking about a trip to India for Holi, in March. Even if no one in her family except Yash welcomed them, the remaining members of Rishi’s family who had helped arrange their meeting would be happy to see them.
Janya got out and waited until they came around to join her. “You will remember the mural was painted by children? Some of the ideas they had were better than others.”
Rishi put his arm around her in that American way he had absorbed. Today she was less embarrassed than grateful. “We know how it came about, Janya, and we
know that without you, the wall would still be blank. So please, no more squirming.”
“Squirming?”
“Yes, exactly. That’s what you are doing.”
“I’m worried, that’s all.”
“It’s her big debut,” Yash said. “The moment they applaud, my sister will be fine.”
Janya wasn’t certain she would be fine. The unveiling of the mural meant her work here was finished, and she had loved it. She had never been part of any project so large, but now her dreams had expanded. They were filled with wide walls and brilliant images to cover them. To stave off boredom she might fill the walls of the second bedroom in the cottage with a jungle scene. Tigers and elephants and foliage in a hundred shades of green. When she and Rishi had a son or a daughter to sleep there, the walls would provide endless entertainment.
As they entered the building, children enthusiastically greeted her, and Janya introduced them to Rishi and Yash. By the time they headed downstairs to the shuffleboard courts, she was resigned. Whatever the public thought, the children had loved painting the mural. For them, the project was already a success.
Outside, the atmosphere was festive. Picnic tables had been set up on the grounds beyond the pool, and a canopy sheltered the area where lunch was being sold and served. Janya was too nervous to eat, but the men went to buy sandwiches and drinks for themselves. More children flocked over to introduce her to their parents, and before long the time had arrived for the unveiling.
Janya saw Tracy conferring with several men and women in suits, including Woody. A loudspeaker system had been set up to the right of the mural, which was covered by curtains a mother had made from dark sheets.
Woody began to speak, and the children pulled Janya forward. She saw Rishi and Yash approaching with their food, and she hoped the unveiling would end before they got there.
Woody did a short presentation, telling the story of how the idea for the mural had come about and crediting Tracy. Then he asked Tracy and Janya to come forward, something she hadn’t known would be expected. Everyone applauded politely, and she and Tracy smiled and waved before they disappeared back into the crowd. Then the mayor was introduced. Janya hadn’t known such an important person would make the final speech. Had she been able to sink into the ground, she would have.
The mayor, a middle-aged woman in a trim blue blazer, briskly greeted them. Janya thought she probably had learned many important things in her campaign, one of which was not to keep people standing in the hot sun. She ended a short speech by reciting an even shorter list of people who had supported the rec center from the beginning. Then, to polite applause, she stepped aside.
Tracy signaled two teenagers, who walked to the center of the curtains and carefully pulled them back. Janya looked straight ahead, afraid to watch the faces of those who were viewing the mural for the first time. The applause began. A full minute later she was no longer worried.
“Will every child who had any part in the mural come forward?” Tracy was up at the lectern now. “And also our star and designer, Janya Kapur.”
The applause began again as the children stepped up to the front. Proud parents and families, rec center staff, local citizens there to see how their taxes were spent and, of course, the tournament attendees. Janya went to stand
in front of the mural with the children for photos. Then the unveiling was over. People flocked to the front to see it up close. Rishi and Yash found her, and heaped praise on what she had done.
“I am always proud of you, but perhaps I’m allowed to be a little prouder today?” Rishi kissed her cheek.
“Amazing,” Yash said. “Gorgeous. Will you ever want to work on anything small again?”
She was so happy, she didn’t notice the woman who had come up to stand behind them. She saw Tracy signaling, and she turned to find the mayor standing there.
“Mrs. Kapur?” The mayor held out her hand. Up close, she looked to be in her fifties, with a thick silver streak in her dark hair that could only be natural.
Janya shook hands, remembering to shake as Americans did, with a firm grip.
“The mural is absolutely stunning,” the mayor said.
Janya had not caught the woman’s name, and now she was embarrassed. She nodded her thanks. “I am so glad it pleases you. The children had so much fun with it.” She introduced Rishi and Yash.
“Mrs. Kapur, the Sun County Arts Council has discussed doing a mural on the side of the main library. There’s a little courtyard there, and a long wall that is simply blank space. We’d hoped to make the area a sculpture garden, but we don’t have the funds. We do have enough for a lively mural. Would you be interested?”
Janya looked at Rishi, who was nodding. She turned back to the mayor. “I would be interested and honored.”
“You’ll be hearing from me.” The mayor gave a quick smile before she headed back into the crowd.
“This is wonderful,” Rishi said. “Now I am too proud. I’m bursting.”
Janya thought of all the years when her talent as an
artist had been at best tolerated. She would always love India, but her new country, too, had presented her with gifts. She could not be more grateful.
By the time she was on the way home Tracy was exhausted but thrilled. The day’s activities had been a salute to a summer of fun for the youth campers. The Palmetto Grove Shuffleboard Team had performed brilliantly. Two of their adults—Mr. M. being one—had won first and second in the singles division, and two teams had taken first and third in doubles. In the youth division, Bay had surprised everybody by taking a first in his age group. A rock band made up of rising seniors from the local high school had finished the afternoon with a concert, and she’d seen more than one parent tugging an unwilling camper to the car. Youth camp was officially over.
She and Marsh had taken Bay and Olivia out for pizza and ice cream to celebrate. Bay had asked Olivia to come home and watch
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,
and Alice had agreed. Marsh told Tracy he might stop by when he dropped Olivia off, and she told him to be sure he did. She had something to talk to him about.
It wasn’t the job offer.
Tracy parked outside her cottage and was just about to go inside when she saw two strangers walking from the direction of Herb’s. Wanda beside them made three. When they got closer, Tracy realized one of the women was Katie, who was carrying her son. The other woman looked so much like her that it could only be one person.
Tracy finally reached them and held out her hand to the older woman. “I’m Tracy Deloche. You must be Pamela.”
Pamela Bishop’s hair was curly like her daughter’s, but
the blond was heavily mixed with silver. She was slender, like Katie, and had the same warm smile.
“Wanda tells me we have you to thank for making sure we finally learned the truth about my father.”
“Wanda and the others worked every bit as hard as I did. She’s being modest.” Tracy glanced at her friend. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Behave yourself. These ladies wanted to get inside, but you have the place locked up tight as a banjo string.”
Tracy apologized. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to let you in, but I didn’t know you were coming.”
Katie hadn’t been in touch since the women had told her the truth about her grandfather. She had accepted the news, but afterward she’d excused herself, saying she needed to call her mother, then more or less ushered them out. Tracy hadn’t had time to offer details, or to explain how and why they had followed the trail. Katie had taken her phone number and directions to the cottage, and said goodbye.
Later, at the Dancing Shrimp, the women had been divided about whether they would ever hear from Herb’s family again. Alice had been the only one among them who seemed certain they would.
Pamela looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept the previous night. “We should have called to warn you, but I wasn’t sure I could get here so fast. After Katie told me, I packed and went to the airport early the next morning and sat all day. I flew to Newark Friday night and finally got here this afternoon. Labor Day weekend’s not the best time for a revelation. Of course, the best time for this one would have been about fifty years ago.”
“This must be tough.” Tracy didn’t know what else to say.
“Do you mind going over to the house with us?”
“Let me get the key. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”