The Way of Women (33 page)

“Do you know where all your insurance papers are?”

“Harv keeps them in a brown accordion folder. I don’t understand what half of it all means.”

“I could help you with that if you like.”

“Would you?” A silence lasted for several miles.

Katheryn thought both her passengers had fallen asleep until finally Mellie said, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“That’s okay. Helping you takes my mind off things.”

“Any word?”

“No.”

“How’s your story coming?”

Katheryn shook her head.

“But at dinner you said you have a deadline.”

“I can’t seem to concentrate.”
Not that I’ve tried a whole lot
.

“Wish I could help you.”

“You are.”

Back at Mellie’s house, Mellie showed Katheryn where the files were and went into the kitchen to make lunch. Katheryn pulled out the file and sat down on the chair in front of a card table that Mellie had called their desk. Feeling slightly like a Peeping Tom, she pulled the envelopes out of the slot marked
INSURANCE
and lined them up before her. One by one she removed the papers from the envelopes and, starting with the Teamsters papers, glanced over the paragraphs and columns of numbers.

Yes, the health insurance was in force with a maximum of a million dollars. With a sigh of relief, she set that one aside to take to a copy machine. She went through two that were out of date, then put them back in their envelopes and back in the file.

“How are you doing?” Mellie stood in the door with a plate and cup. “I can put this here for you. Only tomato soup and a grilled-cheese sandwich.”

“Sounds good.” Katheryn cleared a place for the plate. “You already eaten?”

“I fed Lissa. She was too tired to feed herself.”

“And you?”

Mellie shrugged. “Not too hungry.”

“Is she sleeping?”

“Um.” And a nod. Mellie had her arms crossed over her middle, as if keeping herself either warm or together.

“I’m not too hungry either. Sit here and share my sandwich.” Katheryn adopted her sterner mother tone, one she’d perfected through the years.

Mellie sat. And picked up half the sandwich.

“You have more soup?”

“No.”

“Fine, get another spoon and share mine.”

“I couldn’t …” With a slight smile that softened her eyes, Mellie did as told.

Katheryn took a spoon of soup and stared down at the paper in front of her. Was she seeing right? She put down her spoon and held the papers in both hands. A life insurance policy for two hundred fifty thousand dollars, with double indemnity for accidental death. Another policy read the same. Both for Harvey Sedor with Mellie as his beneficiary.

When Mellie sat down, Katheryn pointed to the two policies. “Did you know Harv had this much life insurance?”

“He has a small policy with the Teamsters.”

“I haven’t read that one yet. What about these?”

“What are they?”

“They each total five hundred thousand dollars.”

“No. We couldn’t afford anything like that.” She picked up the one on top.

“Look here.” Katheryn showed her the lines to read.

“When?” Mellie read the dates of issue. “But …”

Katheryn watched confusion race across Mellie’s face and then back again. Was there more going on here than she knew?

M
emorial weekend. Isn’t there some way we can cancel it for this year?”

“Don’t I wish.” Maybelle set another stack of papers on Frank’s desk.

“You breed paper in that file cabinet of yours or something?”

“Hey, these you only have to sign. I typed them.” She picked up the stack he’d put in her basket.

“Jenn called. Said to remind you that you’re having dinner with her family tonight.”

“I know. If there is an emergency, let Tanner handle it.” He signed the first sheet and flipped it over to make an orderly stack.

“You seen any of her photos?”

“Just the one of the cow. You?”

Maybelle nodded, a slow smile and a lifting of eyebrows showing awe. “She has a gift. That’s for certain sure.”

“She always took good pictures.”

“No, these aren’t just good pictures. These tell stories and tug at your heart, and some even give you shivers.”

“Come on, Maybelle, aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?” He kept on signing, one stack melding into the other.

“Suit yourself. But have you ever accused me of exaggerating?”

Frank stopped his pen and stared at her. “She said anything about going back to New York?”

“Not in my hearin’. But that’s where her job is.”

“According to you, she could take pictures anywhere.”

Maybelle picked up the stack and tapped the edges on the desk to line them up. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“Maybe I will.” He finished the signing, dropped his pen in the wide shallow drawer in the middle of his desk, and slammed it shut. “That’s it for today.”

“You mean to tell me you are leaving early?”

He glanced at his watch. “If fifteen minutes can be considered early, then yes. I’ll be on my radio, but if anyone less than God himself calls, tell Bridget to notify Brownie.”

“He hates that name.”

“I know. But deputies got to learn to deal with anything their boss dishes out.”

Maybelle snorted and shook her head. “Haven’t seen you in this good a mood since—well, since I don’t remember when.”

Frank just shrugged, snagged his hat off the hall tree, and headed for the back door, where he’d parked so Sig could be in the shade and he could get away without being badgered by the media or stopped with requests for assistance from any of his staff. If he heard “Mac, do you
Know …?” one more time today, he might copy The Lady and blow his stack.

“Get over, dog.” Sig sat full in the driver’s seat and smiled at him, tail thumping the leather. His front feet danced, and he whined low in his throat.

“Yes, you big lug, I’m glad to see you too. You need a pit stop?” He motioned for Sig to leave the car and waited while the big dog watered one of the back tires, then leaped back in.

Frank followed the dog in and realized he was whistling “You Light Up My Life” as he slammed the door.
Well, I’ll be
. He checked the rearview mirror. Same face. If Tanner really wanted that promotion, he needed more experience. Hmm. He’d even teased Maybelle for a change. No wonder she’d looked a bit shocked.

He ignored the static and chatter on the police band, passing the drive home with thoughts of Jenn’s family. Her brother had been a year behind him in high school, and since the two played football on the Kelso team, they’d been good friends, the first friend he’d lost to the war, though not his first brush with death. Mr. and Mrs. Stockton, as he’d called them then, had been stricken with the death of their son. Jenn had come home for the funeral, but by then he was married and the father of toddler. That was the last time he’d seen her.

After a fast shower, he debated leaving Sig at home, then brought him along. From force of habit, most likely, that and the fact that the truck seemed empty without him. Besides, it was time Sig and Jenn got on a petting basis.

“You like her, don’t you?” He slapped the dog on the shoulder. Sig leaned toward him, a mute suggestion that he do some earnest scratching
rather than playful thumping. Frank complied, again amazed at the now tuneless whistle that covered part of the radio noise.

He stopped the car next to Jenn’s pickup and motioned Sig to accompany him. He checked the lay of his collar before ringing the doorbell.

“Well, Frank McKenzie, you are one good sight for sore eyes.” Clare reached out to hug him. “And you brought Sig along, how nice. Come in, come in.”

Frank removed his hat and held it in one hand while he crossed to shake hands with the man in the recliner. “Good to see you, Norm. No, don’t get up. You look too comfortable.”

“Been too long, son. I remember when you half lived here at times.” He waved Frank toward the leather sofa with an elkhide draped over the back. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Jenn will be down in a moment. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No beer here anymore since that dang fool doctor told me I had to lay off it. Sorry.”

At the word
beer
, Frank’s salivary glands kicked into running speed. “Coffee will be fine, if you have some.”

“Unless you want a Coke or something?” Clare stopped in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Coffee will be fine.”

“Hear you’ve been busier than a one-armed paperhanger.” Norm had his dark green recliner part way back and his coffee mug propped on his slight paunch.

“No matter how ready we thought we were, the old girl went beyond predictions. Thought sure she’d go straight up, not lateral like she did. When you think of it, the loss of life has been pretty minimal.”

“Darn fools that went up there when they knew better.” Norm shook his head. “To think it happened on Sunday when so few loggers were working there.”

“Grace of God, if you ask me. He tried to keep as many people away from that mountain as He could.” Clare handed Frank a coffee mug that said “over the hill and picking up speed.”

Frank smiled at the inscription, hoisted the mug in salute, and took a sip. “Think how much worse it could have been coming out the west side or the south.”

“All that timber down. Wonder if any of it will be worth saving?”

“Oh, I imagine some, at least. Just getting to it will be a problem.” Frank looked up at the sound of Jenn’s steps coming down the hall. “Hi, Frank. Hey, you brought Sig along.”

“He asked especially. Said he’d pout if he couldn’t come.”

“Right.” Jenn knelt on the floor. “Hey, boy, remember me?”

Sig sat by Frank’s right knee, black-rimmed ears full up, eyes never leaving hers. He glanced over his shoulder at Frank.

“Go on, you can talk to her.”

Sig looked back at Jenn, his tail brushing the carpet. When she extended her hand, he leaned forward and sniffed.

“Hey, handsome.” Her voice lowered to a purr. “You are one gorgeous dog, you know that?” She sat back on her heels and waited.

“He still good as a tracker?” Clare asked.

“Not as good as a bloodhound, but far smarter. Sometimes I think he figures out the mind of the one he’s tracking. Don’t care a bit for drug runners, nor users either. Hates drugs.”

Slowly Jenn and Sig drew closer together. First she scratched his ears, then rubbed his head. He inched closer so she could reach his neck and
shoulder. All the while she murmured sweet talk until he relaxed and leaned into her gentle fingers.

Frank ignored the pang that just might be jealousy if he thought about it.

“Hey, squirt, I hear you’ve been taking some good pictures.”

“Who told you, Maybelle?”

“Uh-huh. You sure got a fan in her.”

“Good. I just finished running some more black-and-whites in the darkroom.”

“You’re doing that again?”

“Why not? Had the entire setup.”

He turned to Clare. “You kept it all?”

Clare shrugged. “Just never got around to converting it to a sewing room like I thought I would. Now I’m glad I didn’t.” She smiled at her daughter.

“You two look more like sisters than mother and daughter.”

Jenn and her mother looked at each other.

“So, since you told me I looked close to death …”

“Then I must be looking a whole lot younger than my years.”

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you, son. You can’t win,” Norm said.

Frank raised an eyebrow at Jenn. Seems like he’d heard more words out of her father’s mouth this evening than he did in all those years ago.

A buzzer went off in the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Jenn rose to her feet from a cross-legged position, as gracefully as if she’d been sitting on a chair. “Is he allowed in the dining room?”

“Not if it bothers anyone. He can stay in here.”

“No, that’s fine. Old Baldy used to lie right at Jenn’s feet, remember? That dog had the best manners.” Clare went on into the kitchen.

“She forgets how I used to slip Baldy anything I didn’t like.”

“Well, don’t go slipping Sig anything. He only eats dog food and steak bones.”

When they sat down Norm bowed his head, said the grace that Frank remembered all these years later, and looked up to glance around the table. “I’m glad you’re both here.”

While the rest of them swapped “remember when” tales, Norm laughed in all the right places but never contributed another word, eating steadily, passing things when asked. Just like it had been all those years ago.

Frank felt like he’d taken a giant step back in time. Back to when life was good, when he was a hero on the playing fields or floors, and Jenn made sure she kept up to him and James as they traversed the mountain and the lakes and rivers dotted around her.

He and Jenn always had their cameras at the ready, and James clowned for their photos.

Wonder where mine all went?
Had his mother thrown them away in that last move? Or were they in a box high in a closet in his house?

“Are you going to show me your pic—er—photos?” he asked when they’d finished off the huge slices of banana-cream pie Clare set before them.