Read Weaving the Strands Online
Authors: Barbara Hinske
Frank Haynes frowned when Loretta
announced that Chuck Delgado was on the line. Delgado had made good on his
promise regarding the Fairview Terraces matter. As far as Haynes was concerned,
there wasn’t anything else they needed to discuss. He had gotten his fill of
Delgado at the town council meetings.
“Chuck. How goes it?” Haynes said with forced
cheerfulness.
“Other than losing money on a legit investment to
help out a friend it’s goin’ great,” Delgado rasped.
Haynes remained silent.
“I’m talkin’ about you, Frankie boy. And those old
geezer friends of yours at Fairview.”
“What do you mean?” Haynes spat.
“I heard they was gonna pay you back the money you
advanced to the landlord for them. Except you didn’t advance no money to us,
now did you, Frankie?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Haynes sighed. “I don’t have
time for this.”
“Look here, Frankie. We been talkin’ about this.
We took a hit to help you out.”
“It helped all of us out. You know that. None of
us needs Scanlon and company poking around.”
“Yeah, but we never thought you’d be pocketing
money on the deal. That ain’t right, Frankie.”
Delgado paused to make sure he had Haynes’
undivided attention. “This here’s a courtesy call, on account of our long
association and all. My guys expect you to turn over any money you pocket from
this Fairview thing. You got it, Frankie? No funny business. You don’t want to
mess with these guys; they ain’t nice, like me.”
Haynes wiped a line of sweat from his upper lip.
“I’m not going to pocket any money on this deal, Chuck. Never intended to. How
could I know that those old fools at Fairview Terraces would get a zoning
variance and make money from the place? A bunch of senior citizens in a retirement
village? That never happens.”
“Will wonders never cease? It’s happened, Frankie,
and we expect to see that money.”
“I haven’t gotten any checks yet, Chuck. You’ve
got to understand, I may never get any money. I don’t expect that I will.”
“I believe you, Frankie, I really do. Since we’re
such good friends and all. I’m out on a limb for you with my boys. Just
remember that, Frankie. You owe me one.” Delgado disconnected.
Haynes slammed down the receiver. The mob
suspected him of cheating them, and now, on top of that, Haynes was in Chuck
Delgado’s debt. Could this day get any worse?
***
Loretta stamped her feet and hugged
herself while searching the patch of road visible through the trees for any
sign of the familiar Mercedes sedan. Frank Haynes was late. He was always at
the office when she arrived at eight and never left before she did at five. It
was now almost nine o’clock; she had gone from feeling annoyed by him to being
concerned about him. She’d saved his cell phone number in her contact list; it
was time to give him a call. She was fishing in her purse for her phone when he
finally pulled into his reserved parking spot.
“Sorry I’m late,” he called, hurrying to
unlock the door to Haynes Enterprises.
“I was getting worried,” Loretta stated
truthfully, eyeing him closely. His usual fastidious attention to his appearance
was askew this morning—he’d shaved haphazardly, his shoes were scuffed,
and his shirt looked rumpled.
Is he a little hungover?
she wondered.
Loretta followed Haynes into the building. Without
another word, Haynes proceeded directly to his office, shouting over his
shoulder that he didn’t want to be disturbed. She nodded mutely as he slammed
his door.
Loretta tackled the accounts payable and had a
stack of checks ready for his signature by mid-morning. She considered knocking
on his door but decided against it. Whatever he was doing in there, she wasn’t
going to interrupt him.
She leaned back in her chair to think. She
was being grossly overpaid for a job that a part-time high-school graduate
could do. He wasn’t letting her use any of her expertise from her college education.
There had been no reason to move her out here from California. And he wasn’t
interested in her sexually. She had flirted with him enough, without response,
to know that wasn’t the reason he hired her. Her intuition shouted that things
didn’t add up.
He’s acting like he’s got something to hide,
she thought.
What was Frank Haynes up to?
Loretta spent the afternoon halfheartedly
scrolling through Pinterest and Facebook as she continued to ponder her
situation. If she could find out what Haynes was hiding—or even why he
hired her—she’d have some very useful information. She was startled from
her contemplation when he abruptly flung his door open at three thirty, coat
and briefcase in hand. “We’re done for the day,” he said.
“But it’s only three thirty,” Loretta replied.
“And you let me off early last week. I’ll stay until five. In fact, I’ll stay
until six because we started late this morning,” she said, the advantage of
being alone in the office suddenly appealing to her.
“No. My fault you started late,” he replied
curtly. “I need to lock up,” he said, motioning for her to get her things.
“I’ll do it,” she suggested brightly. “Have you
got a spare key I can use?”
“I said it’s okay,” Haynes barked, then quickly
apologized. “Sorry. Don’t worry. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He stood at her desk as she gathered her purse and
put on her coat, then walked out the door with her, turning to lock the office
before rushing to his car without another word.
He was obviously in a hurry—a big hurry.
Frank Haynes was getting more interesting by the minute. She’d find out about
his little secrets, one way or another.
David Wheeler had become a regular
volunteer at Forever Friends, arriving every day after school. He spent most of
his weekends there as well. Frank Haynes couldn’t help but notice the
similarity to himself at that age. David kept to himself and did what was
requested of him without complaint. He’d even begun to show some initiative,
cleaning and rearranging the storage room.
The next youngest volunteer was twice David’s age,
so the boy didn’t have much in common with anyone there. The staff appreciated
his efforts and was content to leave him alone and let him work. Haynes kept
his distance, feeling both guilty for his part in the mess that had been
William Wheeler’s undoing and inept at offering comfort. Best to leave that to
his court-appointed mentor, that kind man from Fairview Terraces.
Haynes swung by the shelter late one evening to
pick up the financial report the office manager prepared for him. He was
surprised to find David still at work, sweeping the walkway in front of the
cages. As Frank watched from afar, David bent down in front of a cage and stuck
something through the bars, rousing a mid-sized mutt with only one eye that had
been dumped in a ditch and left for dead. Irritation flashed through Haynes.
What in the world was this kid doing, teasing an animal like that? Was he just
like so many other boys his age, getting his kicks out of torturing some poor
creature? Maybe he’d even been with the group that abandoned the dog in the
first place.
Haynes bolted down the hall to where David was
standing, but brought himself up short when the boy turned and looked up with
an expression that Haynes recognized—one of pure love and concern for a
helpless creature. Haynes swallowed the harsh words on the tip of his tongue,
and David turned back to the dog.
“Nice dog,” Haynes uttered lamely. “What’re you
doing with him?”
David gestured with his head. “He’s cold. See,
he’s shivering. He doesn’t have a blanket, like most of the others. And we’re
out of blankets. So I shoved my jacket through the bars for him.”
Haynes nodded. “That’s a nice thing to do. Won’t
you need your jacket to get home?”
The boy shrugged. “Naw. I’ll be fine. He needs it
more than I do.”
“Would you like to take him out to exercise him?”
“Isn’t it too late for that?” David asked, poorly
disguising the hope in his voice.
“I’m going to be here for a while going over the
books,” Haynes lied. “You can get him out of his cage. Take your time.”
David unhooked the latch and bent onto one knee,
gently coaxing the timid animal to him. Haynes picked up the report and took a
seat in the now-deserted lobby.
As the pair passed by on the way to the “get
acquainted” room, Haynes asked, “Do you have a dog, David?”
“Nope. Never had one.”
“Well, maybe it’s time we changed that,” Haynes
muttered under his breath. That boy and that dog belonged together.
Frank Haynes now drove by Fairview
Terraces every day on the way to his office. He didn’t know why he did it; the
place never changed. Maybe he felt an affinity for these elderly folks, just as
he did with the stray animals at his Forever Friends shelter. Or maybe he
wanted to curry favor with his voters. Whatever the reason, he kept an eye on
the place and was surprised to see the large sign posted on the front lawn. He
quickly turned into the main entrance and pulled over to read:
New Home of Westbury West Coast Swing Society
Join Us on Sunday Nights for an Evening of Dancing
Lessons at 4 p.m.
Open Dancing 5 p.m.–8 p.m.
All Are Welcome!
Come get your groove on with us! What’re you
waitin’ for?
Haynes smiled. Those seniors were going to make
money out of this place after all. His efforts to get them their zoning
variance hadn’t been wasted.
Haynes started when a man rapped gently on the
passenger side window. He swiveled in his seat to see the tall man from the
zoning hearing, Glenn Vaughn, bending down to smile at him through the window.
Haynes rolled down his window. “Sorry to startle
you,” Glenn said. “I saw you looking at our sign. Wanted to thank you again for
your help with our variance.”
“Looks like you’ve got your first tenant,” Haynes
observed, gesturing to the sign.
“We do. They’ve booked our Great Hall every Sunday
night for the next year. They said it’s perfect for them. Maybe other dance
groups will follow suit.”
“That’s terrific, Glenn. You should be very proud
of yourself. You’re the one who made this happen.”
Glenn shrugged. “This Sunday will be their first
dance. We’re going to offer some special refreshments for the grand opening.
We’re trying to get a good turnout. I’m not much of a dancer, but Gloria and I
will be there. She says that’s what the lessons are for and I’ll be fine.” He
cleared his throat. “We were hoping that you and Mayor Martin and Councilwoman
Holmes would stop by. To open it up and say a few words? Make it important?”
Haynes groaned inwardly. He hated this part of
being a politician. He loved the power but loathed public appearances. Amiable
small talk was not his forte. He forced a smile and replied that he’d check his
calendar but thought he was already committed elsewhere.
“We’ve sent email invitations—my daughter
says they’re called e-vites—and the mayor is coming.”
Frank Haynes paused. If Mayor Martin were
attending, maybe he would go.
“Let me see what I can do. Why don’t you plan on
me being there? Now,” he continued, “I need your help with something.”
Glenn turned to Haynes in surprise.
“I’d be glad to,” he answered.
“You’re still working with David Wheeler, aren’t
you?”
“Yes. And thank you, again, for giving him that
job at Forever Friends. He’s been so much better since he’s been working there.
I think it’s the only place where he feels happy.” He added hastily, “Nothing’s
wrong there, is it? Is there a problem?”
“No. Nothing of the sort. He’s doing a great job
for us. And I think you’re right about it being good for him. That’s what I
need help with. I think he should adopt one of the dogs.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“I know that,” Haynes replied. “I’ve watched him
with the animals. There’s a special bond between him and one of the dogs. I’d
like to give the dog to him, but his mother needs to agree to it.”
“Have you talked to her? Has she said no?”
“It’s awkward for me to call her; she doesn’t want
to talk to any of us from the town council. She thinks we’re all to blame for
the mess her husband got into. I think she’ll go along with it if you tell her
it’s a good idea.”
Glenn gazed into the distance.
“You may be right,” he finally said, turning back
to the car. “I’ll see her Saturday morning when I pick David up to go fishing.
I’ll talk to her then. Don’t let that dog get adopted by anyone else.”
Haynes reached out and shook Glenn’s hand. “You
get her okay, and I’ll have the dog ready and waiting. Why don’t you bring
David around on Saturday afternoon when you’re done, and together we’ll send
him home with a dog.”
Glenn waved as Frank Haynes pulled away.
***
Glenn and Gloria hurried home from
church that Sunday to put the finishing touches on the decorations for the
inaugural dance of the Westbury West Coast Swing Society at Fairview Terraces.
Crepe paper streamers crisscrossed the entrance to the Great Hall and the new
disco ball was in place. Glenn dimmed the lights and flipped a switch, and he
and Gloria watched as sparks of light swept the room.
Gloria took his hand. “You’ve done it! This looks
fantastic. Everyone around here is more excited than they’ve been in years. I
wonder if we’ll have enough refreshments,” she said, nervously glancing toward
the boxes of cookies and cupcakes lined up on the food tables.
“You’ve got enough to feed an army, honey,” Glenn
reassured. “I hope we pack this place. We need this to be a success. I want to
pay back Councilman Haynes.”
“Stop worrying and come out here and dance with
me, you old fool,” she replied.
“There’s no music,” he said, hoping she wasn’t
serious. Even
with
music, he couldn’t keep a beat.
“There will be.” She took his hand and led him to
the center of the floor. She positioned their arms and leaned close, pressing
her lips to his ear. In her still-clear soprano, she softly sang the lyrics
from the old classic “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.”
Glenn closed his eyes as they swayed gently and
basked in anticipation of the words
I’m in love with you
. He might have
two left feet, but it didn’t matter.
***
John Allen reluctantly pulled
himself away from the television to shower, shave, and put on a suit for
tonight’s date with Maggie. When she phoned to invite him to the Westbury West
Coast Swing Society’s inaugural dance, he had readily accepted because he
wanted to be with her any chance he got, but he hadn’t thought this through. He
was a horrible dancer. Embarrassing, truly. And some of these oldsters were
really good. He’d look even more inept by comparison. Plus the football game he
had been watching was a good one. In addition, he wasn’t particularly looking
forward to getting all dressed up on a Sunday night. He was feeling thoroughly
dyspeptic by the time he rang the bell at Rosemont to pick her up.
His mood changed instantly as she opened the door.
She looked glamorous and sexy in a shiny copper-colored halter-neck dress, her
mane of chestnut hair caressing her shoulders. She had evidently enjoyed her
afternoon of prepping and primping. Her high spirits were infectious.
“Whoa! Don’t you look amazing? You’re going to
have to beat the guys away with a stick! Where’s your dance card? I want to
sign up for every dance right now.”
Maggie beamed and then twirled. “Why thank you,
kind sir,” she said in a mock Southern drawl. “This old thing?”
“Is it new? You look spectacular!”
“It most certainly is. Buying a new dress for a
dance is one of the not-to-be-missed joys of a girl’s life.”
John offered his arm. “Madam, may I have the
pleasure of escorting you to the dance?”
***
Across town, Frank Haynes struggled
into his tuxedo jacket and checked his reflection in the mirror. It still fit
his trim frame, and he had to admit he looked good. Maybe going in formalwear
was a bit overboard, but he was delivering the opening remarks and he knew that
clothes set the right tone. He was dressing to impress. Whether that was for
Maggie Martin or his constituents, he wasn’t sure.
***
By three forty-five, a nice-sized
crowd had gathered in the hallway outside of the Great Hall at Fairview
Terraces. Women were perched in chairs along the walls, changing into their
dancing shoes. An expectant buzz hung in the air.
“You see?” Gloria told Glenn. “Lots of people
turned out.”
“You’re right. And most of them are from the
Westbury West Coast Swing Society. I was afraid we’d have mostly Fairview
Terraces folks for this first dance, and then attendance would dwindle. It
looks like this facility-rental idea will be a success after all,” he said,
sounding pleased with himself.
“Showtime,” Gloria observed as the doors swung
open.
The dancers were lining up for their first lesson
when Mayor Martin, accompanied by a distinguished-looking man, entered the room
and hastily took her place, followed by Councilwoman Tonya Holmes and her
husband, George. At six feet and six-six, respectively, the Holmeses towered
over the crowd. George shook John’s hand, remarking under his breath that
misery loves company. John chuckled in agreement.
A moment later, the crowd began applauding to
welcome their instructors. Sam Torres led his wife Joan onto the dance floor
with some quick footwork and a fancy spin. Maggie leaned over and caught Tonya’s
eye with an arched look. Both women giggled.
“Did you know the Torreses were dancing stars?”
Maggie whispered to John as Sam and Joan began their instruction by separating
the dancers into female and male groups.
After fifty minutes of instruction, even the most
wrong-footed would-be dancer was feeling confident. Sam and Joan exchanged a
satisfied glance; everybody had mastered the basics.
“Maybe we’ll even get John and Maggie to join the
group,” Joan said in an aside to Sam.
Maggie rejoined John and was about to comment that
she hoped Frank Haynes would show up—he was supposed to make the opening
remarks to the crowd—when the double doors opened and the very
dapper-looking councilman made his entrance.
The hum of conversation slowly stopped as all eyes
followed his progress to the center of the room. He stood for a moment and
surveyed the crowd.
He’s letting them admire him,
Maggie thought.
Haynes made his way to the stage and turned to the
crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, members of the Westbury West Coast Swing Society
and residents of Fairview Terraces, welcome to this auspicious occasion—the
first dance of the society in its new home here in this beautiful Great Hall. As
you know, Fairview Terraces recently faced high financial hurdles. With the
help of the resourceful residents here—and I want to particularly single
out Glenn Vaughn standing right over there—we’ve been able to get over
those hurdles. The use of this Great Hall for wonderful activities, like the
dance we’re enjoying tonight, is his doing. Let’s show our appreciation, shall
we? Put your hands together for Mr. Glenn Vaughn, ladies and gentlemen.”
The crowd clapped enthusiastically and Glenn
shrunk back. “If I didn’t have you firmly by the hand,” Gloria noted, “I think
you’d hightail it out of here. Just nod and wave and accept the compliment.”
She knows me pretty well for being together
such a short time,
Glenn thought, moving forward and slipping his hand over
hers.
“And now, enough talking. Let me get out of the
way and let the dancing begin!” Haynes was stepping off the stage when the
newspaper reporter who had covered the Easter carnival at Rosemont caught his
arm. She had Maggie in tow, as well. “You both look so nice. Let’s get a photo
of you dancing for tomorrow’s paper. I think I’ll be able to get this story on
the front page if I’ve got the two of you.”
Haynes shifted uncomfortably. For heaven’s sake,
Maggie thought. It’s only one dance and front-page publicity will help Fairview
Terraces advertise their new availability for events and parties. She smiled at
Haynes and nodded to the dance floor. “Shall we?”
“You look very handsome in your tuxedo, Frank,”
she murmured as they proceeded to the center of the floor and the photographer
took her position.
To Maggie’s relief, the disc jockey selected an
upbeat number; she didn’t want to slow dance with Haynes while John waited on
the sidelines. The councilman took her hand and steered her through some basic steps.
To her surprise, he was an accomplished dancer and, most importantly, knew how
to lead. Maggie was enjoying herself, and Haynes knew it. Having Maggie in his
arms stirred feelings that he’d suppressed for years. The photographer circled
them, clicking away with her camera. Maggie threw her head back and laughed.
“We’re quite the celebrity couple, aren’t
we, Frank?”
Maybe she did feel something for him, he thought.
“That was a very generous speech you gave, Frank.
Glenn Vaughn was so flattered. Giving other people their due is a good thing,
isn’t it?” she asked innocently.
He didn’t know if she was trying to make a point
or not.
The music trailed away. Haynes was about to
suggest that Maggie remain right where she was for the next dance when Dr. John
Allen appeared at her side so quickly it was obvious he had been waiting for
his opportunity.
“Hello, Frank,” John said, extending his hand.
“Mind if I steal my date back from you?”
Haynes returned the warm handshake, but his eyes
had grown steely. So that’s the way it was? Maggie was with John again? He
cocked an eyebrow at Maggie.
“John and I re-met on DogLovers.com. That’d be the
perfect site for you to meet someone, Frank.
“You ought to give it a try,” she tossed over her
shoulder as John led her onto the dance floor.
I’ve tried it, Haynes thought, as he watched John
sweep her into his arms. And the one woman who looked interesting cancelled on
me.
The disc jockey started a slow ballad, and Haynes
turned abruptly on his heel and wove his way through the sea of dancing
couples. Ignoring the inviting glances of women lining the wall by the door, he
strode out of the room.