Authors: Pamela Grandstaff
Kay felt a little light-headed. She slid the check back in
the envelope and tucked it down into her quilted tote. She would call them when
she got to work. Surely this was a mistake.
But it was no mistake.
“That’s the amount you’ll be paid quarterly to cover all
expenses related to Grace’s care,” the trust officer informed her. “You can use
it for your mortgage payment, home improvements, a car, food, clothing, school
supplies; anything that goes toward Grace’s comfort and well-being. Just keep
your receipts for your accountant and we’ll send you a 1099 after the first of
the year.”
“Can I pay her an allowance out of it?” Kay asked.
“Grace will have her own check every quarter,” he said. “You
should have received that, as well.”
Altogether, the quarterly expense checks would add up to
more than Kay made in a year. She’d have Grace for at least two more years, until
she graduated from high school. Kay thought of all the things she could do with
the money during that time. All those little things that needed to be done to
the house, the list of which at times seemed overwhelming compared to her
meager salary.
She could get a new roof, have the foundation repaired, and
replace her old, cantankerous appliances. She could turn up the heat in the
winter and not worry about the utility bills. Heck, she could get a new, more
energy-efficient furnace. She could buy a new car with all-wheel-drive, so, come
winter, she wouldn’t slide all over the place in her old clunker with the
starter that was beginning to act up.
Everything could be taken care of with this money.
Ashamed of her selfish thoughts, Kay reminded herself that this
was actually Grace’s money, to be used to make her comfortable, healthy, and
safe, but her initial feeling of excitement could not be quelled. It felt as if
she’d won the lottery.
One problem was that she didn’t want to deposit the check in
the local bank; within the hour everyone in town would know about it. She would
have to consult with Sean about what to do. As a mayoral candidate, she didn’t
want to be found to be hiding anything, yet she wanted to hide it!
It’s amazing what having some newly found financial security
could do for one’s mood. Kay felt like a weight she hadn’t known she was
carrying had been lifted. Between the breakfast with Sonny and the check she’d
received, Kay was feeling something she hadn’t felt in a while – hopeful.
The Pine County prosecutor stopped by City Hall to gossip
with Kay, and shared some confidential information about Jared “Jumbo” Lawson,
the boy who had vandalized her house.
“He’s going to plead guilty to the lesser charge of
vandalism,” he said, “in exchange for us dropping the hate crime charges. He’s
more likely to get into college with what looks like a youthful indiscretion
rather than a terrorist act.”
“Will he receive any counseling?” Kay asked.
“Community service,” he said.
“It’s a pity,” Kay said. “What the boy actually needs is
some mental health assistance.”
“It’s been my experience that you can’t counsel the bigotry
out of a person,” he said. “If someone feels justified in their actions, it’s
almost impossible to convince them they’re wrong. Jumbo’s not likely to change
anytime soon, not in any meaningful way.”
“He’ll just get bigger,” Kay said, “and more dangerous.”
“He’ll be in trouble again before too long,” he said. “I
spent some time in a room with him. He’s about as dumb as he is angry.”
“His poor mother,” Kay said.
“Marigold’s still determined to run for mayor, I hear,” he
said. “Should be a cakewalk for you.”
“I feel sorry for her,” Kay said.
“I’ve spent some time in a room with her as well,” he said.
“If you ask me, he’s a chip off the old block.”
Later on, Chief Lawrence Purcell, known as “Laurie,” the man
serving as temporary chief of police while the current chief was on a
much-deserved vacation/honeymoon, stopped by her office and plopped into a
chair in front of her desk. He was a tall, loose-limbed man with a care-worn
face and sad blue eyes.
“Hello, Chief Purcell,” she said. “To what do I owe the
honor of this visit?”
“I’m bored, Kay,” he said. “Nothing ever seems to happen in
this town. Where are the drug dealers and blackmailers I was promised?”
“You caught us during a lull,” Kay said. “The college
students are off for the summer and the tourists are staying up on top of the
mountain, where it’s cooler.”
“I need something to do,” he said. “Starsky and Hutch play
on their phones all day, when they aren’t eating massive quantities of food, or
sleeping. I feel like the father of two teenage boys.”
Kay assumed he was referring to deputies Frank and Skip.
“They’re nice boys,” she said. “Don’t be too hard on them.”
“Don’t you have any deep suspicions you’d like me to follow
up on?” he asked. “Isn’t there somebody you’d like me to haul in for
questioning?”
“Someone did paint my house this morning,” she said.
“That was probably an angel,” Laurie said, “rewarding you
for being so good.”
“You’ve only got one week until you start your new job in
Pendleton,” Kay said. “Consider yourself lucky.”
“I’m telling you I need some crime, Kay,” he said. “I’m
going soft. Those crafty crooks in Pendleton will eat me alive if I don’t
exercise my deductin’ and detectin’ skills.”
“Be careful what you ask for.”
“I’m also a little sick of pizza,” he said. “PJ’s is good,
but not as a steady diet.”
“There’s a perfectly good diner at the end of the next
block,” she said. “Plus there’s the Mountain Laurel Depot.”
“I saw the diner menu; there were several words on it I
didn’t understand,” he said. “What is chervil and why do I want it in my
fingerling potato salad? Plus, the word ‘fingerling’ is unappetizing to me. Why
doesn’t anybody fry chicken anymore?”
“They serve fried chicken at the Depot.”
“I ate their greasy spoon special my first day on the job,”
he said. “I paid for it all night.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“Fried chicken,” he said, “mashed potatoes with gravy, green
beans, dinner rolls the size of a cat’s head, and all-American apple pie.”
“I think I can handle that,” she said. “Why don’t you come
over for dinner tonight?”
“Excellent,” he said. “I’m not the greatest company, but if
you have a piano I will gladly play for my supper.”
“I don’t have a piano,” she said. “How about I invite some
people to entertain you?”
“Shady people,” he said. “Make sure they have a lot to
hide.”
“I’ll do my best,” Kay said.
When Kay went home for lunch, she found several large rolls
of pink insulation on her front porch and a note from Sonny that read: “Be back
for dinner.”
Kay checked her kitchen cupboards and refrigerator in order
to make a store list, and then used the rest of her lunch hour to shop at
Delvecchio’s IGA.
As soon as Matt Delvecchio saw her, he came out of the back
room to greet her.
Kay’s heart fluttered, as it had for more than 30 years,
whenever she saw Matt. He may have acquired several gray strands among his dark
curls, some deep laugh lines on his face, thicker lenses in his glasses, and an
extra chin, but to Kay he was still her first love, and so far, the only man
she’d ever felt that way about. She had dated a few other men over the years,
and had even gone so far as to get engaged to one of them, but ultimately she
hadn’t been able to go through with it. She told people she was just too set in
her ways to accommodate a husband, but in her heart of hearts she blamed Matt.
“Hey, gal,” he said. “Whatcha lookin’ for?”
“I’m cooking fried chicken for some friends,” she said. “Do
you have any pole beans?”
“I do,” he said. “I’ve also got some beefsteak tomatoes and
new potatoes that look good.”
“I’ll take them,” she said.
“I’ll get you a fresh chicken out of the walk-in,” he said.
“Better get me two,” Kay said. “I’ve invited some big
eaters.”
“I wish I could be there,” Matt said. “There haven’t been
any home-cooked meals in my house for a long time.”
Kay let that go, just like she did all his woebegone
statements. It was his fault, after all. He could have had all his meals at her
house every day, slept in her bed every night, and sat next to her in church
every Sunday; but Diedre had shaken her tiny rear end and he had thrown it all
away.
To say she had been humiliated and heartbroken was an
understatement. At the time, to her teenage heart, it had felt like attempted
murder.
Today, Matt made sure she had the best of everything, and
once she was in line at the front registers, he sighed.
“You take care,” he said.
His big brown eyes bore a wistful expression.
“Thanks,” was all Kay said.
It was embarrassing how he acted, and Kay hoped no one would
say anything about it. As soon as it was her turn to check out, the clerk shook
her head.
“He’s like a big, sad puppy dog whenever you’re in here,”
she said.
Kay felt her face redden, but she just smiled a tight-lipped
smile in response.
“Biggest mistake that man ever made,” the clerk said. “Have
you heard about their house?”
Kay nodded but kept adding her groceries to the moving
conveyer belt, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.
“I was up there last winter, making a delivery, and even
though she wouldn’t let me past the front door, I could tell what it was like
in there. The front porch is covered with old lawnmower parts, bicycles; you
name it, they’ve got it, rusting in the rain.”
Kay didn’t want to be unfriendly, but she also didn’t want
to talk about Diedre and Matt.
“How’s your son?” Kay asked the woman, and was rewarded with
a long humble brag about how the woman never saw him because he was so good at
school and sports, and so popular with the girls.
“I’m voting for you,” the clerk said as Kay prepared to
leave. “We can’t let Marigold take over or we’ll, none of us, be good enough to
live in Rose Hill.”
Kay thanked her and left. If it wouldn’t look so bad, and if
she wasn’t running for mayor, she’d do her grocery shopping in Pendleton.
Back at work, as Kay passed the conference room where the
FBI team was working, she realized she was holding her breath and walking
softly. Someone dropped something behind her, and the loud noise made her jump
and scream.
“Sorry,” the mailman said.
He had dropped a heavy package on the floor just inside the
door.
A female FBI agent, the one named Terese, opened the door to
the conference room and looked out, her hand on the gun she wore concealed
under her suit jacket.
“Don’t shoot,” laughed the postman.
Terese frowned and then nodded at Kay.
“Good afternoon,” Kay said, her heart still pounding from
being startled.
Kay hoped that seeing her wouldn’t remind Terese that they
needed something else from her, wanted to ask more questions. Kay was so
rattled by every interaction with them that she always made stupid mistakes in
her own work during the rest of the day. She reassured herself, as she always
did, that she hadn’t done anything wrong, but still she worried.
The FBI was investigating the most recent mayor of Rose
Hill, Stuart Machalvie, for various underhanded and illegal activities he and
his cohort, ex-bank president Knox Rodefeffer, had cooked up over the past few
years. Although Kay had partial knowledge of several of the schemes they were
involved in, she hadn’t been involved in any of them nor done anything illegal.
That hadn’t stopped Stuart from trying to implicate her; or his wife, Peg, from
slandering her in an effort to undermine her credibility and derail her mayoral
campaign. The whole situation was like a dark cloud that followed her around,
and she was looking forward to the day when it was gone.
Later that afternoon, City Council Member Ruthie Postlethwaite
stopped by. She handed Kay a jar of her homemade strawberry preserves and
helped herself to a cup of coffee from the service cart in the hallway. She
settled herself in the chair by Kay’s desk and took a sip of the coffee.
“Thank you for the preserves,” Kay said. “I enjoyed the hot pepper
jelly you made last month.”
“The berries are from the IGA,” Ruthie said, “so they’re
probably from Peru or Mexico. Hard to believe we can’t grow perfectly good
strawberries in this country.”
“I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”
“I heard you went grocery shopping today.”
“Such a small town, and with so many other more important
things to talk about,” Kay said.
“If it’s any consolation, Matt Delvecchio is as miserable of
a man as you’re likely to meet.”
“That all happened ages ago,” Kay said. “It’s ancient
history.”
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Ruthie said. “I was
the one who held you while you cried in the girl’s bathroom.”
“I’ve always appreciated your friendship,” Kay said. “We’ve
been through a lot together.”
“Shug and Doreen are living in Sarasota, next to a golf
course,” she said. ‘That could’ve been you, you know.”
Shug, short for Bert Sugarman, was the man Kay had been
engaged to, but had broken it off.
“Shug would not have been happy with me in the long run,”
Kay said. “He’s better off with Doreen. She loves to golf and eat salads for
every meal. All those vitamins and protein shakes that man lives on; I couldn’t
have stood it.”
“But where’s your security, Kay? Who’s going to take care of
you in your old age? I’ve got old Pudge and my kids, and who’ve you got?”
Kay knew that Ruthie didn’t mean to be cruel; she just
didn’t have the sensitivity filter that most people are born with or develop
over time. Ruthie loved Kay and was concerned about her, so blunt observations
were how she communicated it.