Hollyhock Ridge (2 page)

Safe.

Secure.

Loved.

Kay Templeton woke to the sound of someone outside her
bedroom window. She looked at the clock; it was 5:35 a.m. Her house had
recently been vandalized with spray paint, and she was not going to let that
happen again. She got out of bed and pulled on her robe as she stuck her feet
into her slippers. She grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table, and
thinking she might need a weapon, picked up her umbrella as she went out the
front door.

As she rounded the house, umbrella raised, ready to do
battle with what she presumed were juvenile miscreants, she was surprised to
find Sonny Delvecchio on a ladder, painting the side of her house with white
paint. He had covered the orange letters spelling out “DYKE” and was just
starting on “WITCH.”

“Sonny!” she said. “What are you doing?”

Sonny was a big man, clad in paint-spattered coveralls and
scuffed work boots. He leaned back and looked her up and down.

“Good morning, Mary Poppins,” he said. “Nice getup.”

Kay lowered her umbrella, adjusted her robe, and smoothed
down her hair as she walked through the tall, dew-soaked grass. The morning fog
from the Little Bear River was thick in the air, and she could only see about
half a block in any direction.

“That’s evidence,” Kay said. “I don’t think I’m allowed to
paint over it, yet.”

“Well, now, I asked that substitute chief of police if he
thought it’d be all right, cause it makes me so doggone mad every time I see
it, and he said if you didn’t know anything about it you couldn’t be blamed.
Think of it as a random act of reverse vandalism. I figure there’ve been enough
pictures taken of it that nobody’s likely to forget what it looked like.”

“That’s very kind of you, Sonny,” Kay said. “It’s been three
weeks, but every time I look at it, it feels as bad as the first time.”

“There’s not a person worth anything who could believe you’d
have anything to do with black magic, and I’m pretty sure you don’t prefer the
ladies; not that there’s anything wrong with that. I prefer the ladies myself.”

He gave Kay an appreciative look that flustered her.

“Jumbo wrote it about my foster daughter,” Kay said. “She’s
on vacation with friends in Florida, so I’m glad she won’t have to see it when
she gets back.”

“Grace Branduff is a pip,” Sonny said. “Jacob Branduff was
an ornery cuss, but she’s a good ‘un. Matt says Grace is the best worker he’s
ever had at the IGA.”

Sonny was the oldest brother of four in the Delvecchio
family, and owned Delvecchio’s Hardware; Matt ran the IGA, Paul and his wife, Julie,
owned PJ’s Pizza, and Anthony owned an insurance agency. Their mother was a
tall, statuesque Italian beauty named Antonia; their father, Sal, was a tiny
man who suffered from horrible emphysema.

“I’ll leave you to get on with it,” Kay said. “Come in for
some coffee when you’re done.”

As Kay walked back toward the front of her house, she saw
Diedre Delvecchio driving down Peony Street in her shabby station wagon. Kay
waved but of course Diedre pretended not to see her. Diedre liked to pretend
Kay didn’t exist, and Kay was glad to accommodate her.

Diedre’s husband, Matt Delvecchio, had been Kay’s first
boyfriend. They had started going together in 7
^th
grade, which meant
Matt carried her books, hung out by her locker between classes, and talked to
her on the phone for hours every evening. The devoted Kay sat in the stands to
watch Matt play football and baseball, and beamed up at him as he pinned a
corsage on her dress before every school dance.

There were no cell phones or Internet back then. Computers
were business machines that took up whole rooms and calculators represented the
most sophisticated technology they used. Both were children of strict parents
and as such were never allowed to be alone together.

By his senior and her junior year, they had made plans:
after she graduated they would get married and have a bunch of kids. He would
work in the family business; she would stay home and be a full-time mother and
homemaker. Although her parents were not happy about it, she agreed to convert
to Catholicism, and had begun taking R.C.I.A. classes at Sacred Heart. They
were as committed to each other as teenagers could be, and they were also
committed to waiting until they were married to have sex.

In the spring semester of her junior year, Kay contracted
Mononucleosis and missed a month of school. During that time little Diedre
Brennan got her braces removed, traded her thick glasses for contact lenses,
had her hair frosted, and bought a padded push-up bra. Even after all that
devoted abstaining, it had not been difficult to seduce Matthew. Kay had no
doubts about who was the aggressor; Diedre had rubbed her nose in it.

But Matthew could have said, “No.”

Kay cooked Sonny a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and
hot coffee. He took his boots off on the front porch before he came inside. He
seemed to tower over everything in Kay’s tiny cottage, and took up every bit of
one side of the breakfast nook. He tucked his napkin in the neck of his
coveralls, and ate with gusto.

Kay sat on the other side of the booth, sipped her tea, and
enjoyed watching him eat with such pleasure.

“This is so good,” he said. “I can’t tell you the last time
I had a breakfast like this. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

“I enjoy cooking and baking,” Kay said, “as anyone can
plainly see.”

“Don’t you put yourself down,” Sonny said, while pointing
his fork at her. “You’re just as pretty as you were in high school. Besides, I
like a womanly woman.”

Sonny’s eyes twinkled mischievously. Kay felt herself flush
with both embarrassment and pleasure.

“My little brother was an idiot to let you get away,” Sonny
said.

“That was a hundred years ago,” Kay said.

“If I hadn’t had the stupid idea that it was wrong to go
after my brother’s girl, I would have snagged you for myself.”

Kay remembered Sonny as a tall, athletic teenager who was
loud and boisterous with his friends but awkward and shy around girls. He had
always gone out of his way to be kind to her over the years, and she was always
glad to see him. He was the kind of person you could call in the middle of a freezing
winter night because your furnace had quit working and he would arrive within
minutes, tool box in hand, a good-natured-smile on his sleepy face.

“Things have a way of turning out like they ought to,” Kay
said.

“His wife’s crazier than a bee-stung bobcat,” he said. “You
should see their house.”

“I’ve heard there’s a bit of a clutter issue.”

“I don’t know how he lives with her,” he said. “She smokes
like a fiend, she won’t cook or clean, and she’s trashed that house. She
doesn’t care about her daughter or her grandkids; can’t be bothered to help my
mother, even when my dad’s so sick ...”

“But doesn’t she help out at the store?”

“She runs the cash register two afternoons per week, with
plenty of smoke breaks,” he said. “But just between you and me and this
breakfast here, she also helps herself to the cash.”

“That’s terrible! What does she say when you confront her
about it?”

“I never have,” he said. “I just quit giving her paychecks;
I figure she takes what she thinks she’s owed. I don’t need another reason to
fight with her.”

“Can’t you talk to Matt about it?”

“Matt and me were never what you’d call close to begin
with,” he said with a shrug. “Plus he thinks I’m going straight to hell for
being divorced.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Kay got up and retrieved second helpings of everything for
Sonny.

“Do you ever hear from your ex-wife?”

“Karla only calls when she wants something,” he said. “I
gave her the house, the car, and everything we had in savings, but that
boyfriend of hers is out of work, and he owes child support for the three kids
from his second marriage. They’re living in a big house on the golf course down
by the Cheat River, which is the perfect place for those two, if you think
about it. They’re both driving luxury cars and taking expensive vacations;
meanwhile I’m living over the store and driving a ten-year-old truck.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Kay said. “How’re
your girls handling it?”

“They’re still not talking to her,” he said. “I tell them ‘She’s
your mother, you should treat her with respect no matter what fool thing she
does,’ but they can’t get over it.”

“It will get better with time.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still pretty mad about it, and
it’s been three years.”

“It doesn’t sound like she’s any happier,” Kay said. “Maybe
she’ll come back.”

“What’s done is done,” Sonny said, shaking his head. “She
broke my heart, bled me dry, and sacrificed our family. You can’t undo a thing
like that. I may have to forgive her, because God says I have to, but I will
never forget what she did, and I will never give her the chance to do it
again.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone else,” Kay said. “You’re only
what, fifty-four, fifty-five?”

“You keep on cooking like this and I’ll be back on your
porch every morning like a stray dog.”

“You’re good company,” Kay said. “Come over any time.”

“You shouldn’t have fed me,” he said. “I’m not kidding.”

He smiled at her and she felt a ripple of something run
through her body; it had been a while, but Kay could still remember what it
felt like to be attracted to someone who was flirting with her.

“Nice little place you got here,” he said, as he looked
around. “Built in the 30s probably, and solid as a rock, but with the original
plumbing and electric. You got anything needs worked on?”

“Now that you mention it,” Kay said, “my toilet’s been
running nonstop for over a month. I had Elbie come look at it, and he did
something to it, said it needed a part, but I expect he’s forgotten about it.”

“I’ve fixed plenty of Elbie’s handiwork over the years,”
Sonny said. “I’ll look at it.”

Kay washed the dishes while Sonny looked at the toilet. When
he returned he was shaking his head. He held up the paperclip and rubber band
that had been holding things together.

“This evening I’ll bring over the part you need,” he said. “Please
just call me next time you need something fixed. Elbie has good intentions but
he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing.”

“I appreciate it,” Kay said. “I know how busy you are.”

“I’d like to get up in your crawl space,” he said.

“I beg your pardon,” Kay said.

“I bet you don’t have near enough insulation under the
house, in the walls, or up in the attic.”

“Probably not,” Kay said. “I just haven’t had the money to
do all the work that’s needed. Right now every extra penny I have is going to
pay Sean Fitzpatrick for legal work, and he’s giving me a huge discount.”

“It seems to me you shouldn’t have to pay to protect
yourself when Machalvie and Rodefeffer are the ones who broke the law.”

“They’d love to make me the scapegoat,” she said. “Sean’s
just making sure they can’t.”

The former mayor of Rose Hill and the former bank president
were being investigated for various schemes they were involved in, and as town
administrator, Kay was being required to provide documents and information to
federal agents.

“Sean’s a good boy,” Sonny said. “I wish my brother would
quit trying to fool everybody and just be himself.”

“I didn’t know you knew about that,” Kay said.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s just two
people loving each other, and isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? The rest of
the family doesn’t want to know; they’re happy for Anthony to keep pretending
so they won’t be embarrassed.”

“It’s sad,” Kay said. “I hate to see anybody throw away the
chance to be loved and be happy.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll work it out,” Sonny said.
“Meanwhile, let’s get your house ready for winter.”

“But it’s only July,” Kay said.

“Which means we only have three months until the snow
flies.”

“I really can’t afford it right now.”

“I’ll do a little at a time,” Sonny said. “We’ll work
something out.”

Before he left, Sonny mowed the lawn and fixed a loose
shutter.

As she got ready for work, Kay found herself singing a song
that was stuck in her head. She laughed as she realized it was “Handyman,” by
James Taylor. It felt good to have someone so competent concern himself about
her house. His compliments toward her and her cooking had been sweet as well.

‘He’s one of the few eligible heterosexual men of a certain
age left in this town,’ she thought. ‘It probably doesn’t mean anything, but
why not enjoy it?’

Kay stopped by the post office to pick up the mail for City
Hall as well as her own. Diedre’s sister, Sadie, was the postmistress. Even
though she knew how much animosity Diedre felt toward Kay, she was still
friendly. She asked about Kay’s foster daughter, Grace.

“Grace and her friend, Tommy, went on vacation with my
friend Jane and her son,” Kay said. “I guess they’re having such a good time
they don’t want it to end.”

“That poor child deserves some happiness after the life she’s
had,” Sadie said. “Jacob Branduff was a mean old coot.”

“Jane has been wonderful to her,” Kay said.

“Jane’s still young and energetic,” Sadie said. “She can
keep up with them. Plus she understands all that social media stuff they do.
Not like me and you. Give us a comfy chair and a good book and we’re happy.”

Kay felt a pang at that. It so closely mirrored her insecure
feelings about doing what was best for Grace. She worried that she was too old
to be a good mother to her, and that Grace would suffer because of it.

In addition to one addressed to Grace, there was an envelope
addressed to Kay from a bank in Pittsburgh, where Grace’s family trust account
was held. Curious, she stood outside on the sidewalk in front of the post
office and opened hers. It was a check made out to her for what was to Kay an
enormous amount of money. On the attached stub was written, “Third quarter
child care expenses.”