Weaving the Strands (8 page)

Chapter 19

Mayor Maggie Martin and
Councilmembers Tonya Holmes and Frank Haynes sat at the makeshift head table at
the front of the community room at Fairview Terraces. The rain that had settled
upon Westbury for the past two weeks had turned to sleet during the drive out
to the center. Despite the inclement weather, the room was packed and uncomfortably
warm. Not a good way to start what promised to be a long evening.

As Maggie scanned the crowd, she noted that almost
everyone was equipped with a pen and paper. A couple she remembered seeing at
the first meeting was seated in the center front, and the man held a three-ring
binder open on his lap and appeared to be running his finger down a list on the
first page.

Frank Haynes leaned over, interrupting her
reverie. “It’s time to start,” he said softly. “These folks never arrive late.”

“You’re right,” she replied as she got to her feet
and moved to the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, residents of Fairview
Terraces, thank you so much for turning out in this awful weather. I know that
we delivered distressing news the last time we were here. You received it with
a great deal of grace. I understand that you’ve been busy exploring options to
raise money, and we want to hear all of your ideas.”

She smiled across the crowd.

“We’ve been working on our end,” she continued,
“analyzing legal documents and negotiating with the lessor. Your councilman
spearheaded these efforts, and I think you’ll be pleased to learn what he’s
accomplished. Councilman Haynes,” she said, extending her arm to him as she
stepped aside.

Haynes approached the podium with papers in hand,
and adjusted the microphone. The sooner he delivered the bad news and got out
of there the better. They might come up with a plan to raise money going
forward, but they’d all have to contribute to the past due payment. People on
fixed incomes always hated that, but it couldn’t be helped. He had tried, he
really had. He’d finally convinced the lessor to take twenty cents on the
dollar. However, that still left someone writing a big check, bigger than he
cared to write himself.

“We’ve been able to negotiate an eighty percent
discount, but that leaves a large arrearage.”
Might as well just rip the
Band-Aid off.
“That arrearage must be paid by all of you.”

He glanced up, expecting to find an angry and
agitated crowd with hands waving in the air to protest and criticize. Instead
he found himself looking out at a sea of earnest and encouraging faces. He
rocked back and contemplated the gathering. A tall man in the center of the
front row raised his hand and asked if he could address the group.

He stood and turned to his audience. “I’m Glenn
Vaughn. I think you all know me by now. I’ve been thinking about this since the
last meeting. I’ve put together a business plan for a gift shop, a farmers market,
and I’ve done a pro forma for the money we could make renting out this room
plus a couple of others for community use,” he said, holding up his notebook.
“I think we can pay our way going forward, no problem. If the lessor could give
us time to come up with the arrearage, we should be able to raise that, too. Do
we need to pay it right away?” he asked, turning back to Haynes.

In spite of himself, Haynes liked this pragmatic,
resourceful older man. He glanced at the clock on the back wall. Maybe it
wouldn’t hurt to hear these people out. He turned to his colleagues at the
front table, then back to Glenn. “I think we’d all like to know more about your
plans.”

Haynes held Glenn’s gaze. He surprised even
himself with what he said next. “And if you’ve got a plan that would repay the
arrearage over time, that’s fine. I’ll take care of it now and you can pay me
back, when you can.”

As Glenn started toward the podium, applause,
starting as a trickle and ending in a crescendo, spread through the room.
I’ll
get re-elected yet,
Haynes thought. As he returned to his seat to make way
for Glenn, he realized the lightness in his heart might not have anything to do
with the prospect of an electorate voting him back into office.

***

A handful of residents stayed after
the meeting to voice their concerns, but eventually the room emptied. Only
Frank Haynes remained locked in conversation with the older gentleman who appeared
to be the spokesman for the seniors interested in working toward a solution
with the town officials. Maggie and Tonya collected their purses and signaled
to Haynes. He nodded in acknowledgement.

Maggie followed Tonya out the door, pulling the
collar of her coat up against the wind. Chief Thomas’ car was pulled into the
fire lane by the exit. He was out of his car and upon them before they could
reach the side of his car.

“Chief Thomas,” Maggie called. “What brings you
here? Were you providing security detail for the meeting? Surely no one thought
that was necessary?”

“No. Nothing of the sort. Something else’s come
up.” He glanced at Tonya.

Tonya looked from the chief to Maggie and back
again. “I’ll say goodnight and leave you two to it,” she said hastily, turning
away.

“No. Don’t go,” Chief Thomas replied slowly.
“You’ll hear it soon enough. You may as well hear it from me.”

Alarmed, both women faced the officer. Maggie
nodded for him to continue.

“William Wheeler was found dead in his jail cell
about four hours ago.”

“What?” Maggie and Tonya gasped in unison.

“He was alone in his cell when he died, which
would put it between three and four o’clock this afternoon. His cellmate
returned to the cell around four and thought Haynes was asleep. No one realized
he was dead until they tried to rouse him for dinner.”

“He was in his early fifties, for heaven’s sake,”
Maggie replied. “People that age don’t just up and die. What happened?”

“We don’t know yet. There aren’t any signs of foul
play. He wasn’t hanging from a noose. He was lying in his cot, dead. The
medical examiner will follow protocol and perform basic toxicology screening
for opiates, cocaine, and carbon monoxide. If they come back negative, he
probably had a heart attack.”

“He was a chain smoker,” Tonya said. “But he
always seemed healthy to me.”

“Heart disease is the silent killer,” Chief Thomas
murmured. Frank Haynes’ exiting through the front door cut further discussion
short.

“Frank,” Maggie called. He turned in their
direction and nodded as Chief Thomas signaled him to join them.

“What’s up?” he asked. He listened intently as
Chief Thomas repeated his report. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally managed
to choke out. “I’ve known him all my life; we went to school together.”

Maggie rested her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,
Frank, truly. You knew him better than the rest of us.”

She turned to Chief Thomas. “How is his family
taking it?”

“Pretty bad, as you can imagine. His son’s
devastated. He’s been in trouble since Wheeler was arrested; this won’t help
matters.”

“Where are they? I’d like to go to them. I know
what it’s like to lose your husband.”

“They’re at home. With all due respect, ma’am, I
don’t think she’ll want to see you. You have her husband’s old job after all.”

“You’re right. What was I thinking?”

“I’ll go,” Haynes interjected. “I’ve known Jackie
as long as I’ve known William. Maybe I can help.”

Chapter 20

Gloria was ready and waiting when
she heard the familiar knock on her door just before dinner the day after the
meeting with the bigwigs from town. It was overcast and gray, but the rain had
subsided. She shrugged into her jacket in anticipation of their walk to the
dining room and opened her door.

“Hello there, Mr. Fairview Terraces,” she greeted
him as she closed the door behind her. “I’ve been anxious all day to tell you
how impressive you were at the meeting.”

Glenn blushed. “I wasn’t the only one who put
thought into how we could save Fairview Terraces.”

“No, but you were articulate and organized. Your
ideas were well thought out. Everyone’s been saying as much. And the mayor and
councilmembers certainly thought so. That was plain as day.”

“It did go rather well, didn’t it,” he admitted
with pride.

“And you could have knocked me over with a feather
when Councilman Haynes offered to loan us the arrearage. I must admit I’d
pegged him all wrong. When he started to speak, I felt like he wanted to say
what he came to say and get out of there.”

“That’s how I saw it, too,” Glenn said. “But he
was the one who wanted to hear more. He gave me his card and wrote his personal
cell phone number on it in case we have any problems as we move forward. I
think he’s really concerned about us.”

“He’s a sharp businessman, from what I understand.
You should take him up on his offer.”

They entered the dining room and headed for their
usual table by the windows. Halfway across the room, two couples sitting at a
table for six motioned them over.

“We’re sorry to intrude on your date,” said a
heavyset woman, with extra emphasis on the word
date
. “But we have
questions about some of these ideas of Glenn’s.” The man to her right nodded vigorously.
“Would you mind joining us?”

Glenn was about to object when Gloria responded.
“We’d be delighted to. And you’re not interrupting a date; we’re just friends.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Glenn’s shoulders sag. Or was she
imagining that? “I’m sure you’re going to find that Glenn has considered his proposals
from every angle. If there’s a problem, he’s thought of a solution,” she stated
firmly.

The woman gave her a wan smile.

“And we’d love to hear
your
ideas for
getting us out of this mess,” Gloria added with a touch of malice.

“I’m sure you’ve put a lot of work into your
proposals,” interjected one of the men, directing the conversation toward
Glenn. “We were most impressed with your presentation last night. We just want
to hear more. Let’s go through the line and get our food. Then we can settle in
and talk.”

***

Two hours later, after discussing
and defending his ideas so intensely that he hardly had a chance to eat his
meal, Glenn walked Gloria across the complex to her place.

“You look tired, Glenn,” Gloria noted with
concern. “You’re not twenty anymore, you know.”

Glenn smiled. “I’m fine. And believe me, I know
I’m not twenty. I wouldn’t want to be young again, would you?”

“Only if I could know then what I know now.
Otherwise, no.”

They continued in companionable silence.

“Seriously, Glenn. Don’t let these folks exhaust
you; don’t let them use you up. What you’re doing is wonderful and noble. And I
know you’re finding it very satisfying. Which is fine. But you need to set some
boundaries. Maybe you should go out for meals for a while? Until this blows
over.”

Glenn stopped and turned to Gloria. “I’d miss your
company, unless you went out with me,” he said simply.

“That would really get tongues wagging in this
gossipy old place!” she replied.

“Who cares what people say. Aren’t we finally old
enough to be beyond all that?” he asked.

“Not me, Glenn. We’re just good friends and it
rankles me that people are branding us as a couple. Doesn’t it bother you?” she
asked. “It never occurred to me that people would pay any attention to us,” he
replied. “I honestly never thought about it.”

“Well, you might want to consider it if only for
my sake,” she replied as they reached her door. “I don’t want to be the clichéd
old widow pouncing on the recent widower. Now go on home and get a good night’s
sleep.”

***

A good night’s sleep was not in the
cards for Glenn. He tossed and turned, replaying the earlier conversations with
the other residents and thinking of the things he should’ve said. Gloria’s
statement that they were just good friends played loudest in his mind.

They
were
good friends, to be sure. He
loved sharing the day-to-day bits with her, keeping someone up to speed on the
mundane details of his life. And he valued her opinions and observations. But
he was increasingly aware that his feelings ran deeper. Was it possible, at
this age and stage of his life, that he was falling in love again?

He pushed himself out of bed and padded to his
favorite leather chair by the window, the one where he read poetry every
morning. He picked up a pen and pad and began another note to Gloria.

Was he insane to be proposing this? Would he ruin
their friendship which had brought him so much peace and pleasure in recent
weeks? Would his overture turn their companionship into an awkward mess for
both of them?

He paused, pulling aside the curtain to gaze out
at the dark, cloud-filled sky. He’d never been a coward, and he wasn’t going to
act like one now.

He returned to his paper and began.

***

Gloria slept late the next morning
and might have stayed in bed until noon had Tabitha not insisted on her breakfast.
Scrounging up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, she opened her door
to retrieve the paper. Sitting beside it on her doormat was a small bouquet of
mums arranged with ribbons and berries in a hollowed-out pumpkin accompanied by
an envelope addressed in Glenn’s now-familiar hand.

She brought the offerings inside and found a spot
for the flowers on her kitchen island. She propped the card against the pumpkin
and stared at it, not sure if she wanted to read it or not. She knew that her
remarks about their gossipy neighbors had surprised Glenn. Why in the world had
she mentioned that to him? She loved things just as they were and would be
heartbroken if they discontinued their daily ritual of shared meals. What did
it really matter what other people thought? Nothing. So why did she still care
about their opinion of her?

Gloria reached for the envelope, turned it over in
her hands, and then quickly set it back down. She would read it before he
called for her at dinnertime, but she wanted to collect herself first.

An hour later, after dressing and wrangling her
unruly hair into a more-or-less presentable bun, she summoned the courage to confront
the note. What she read both delighted and confused her:

My dearest Gloria,

You are correct when you say that we are good
friends. In fact, I look upon you as one of the best friends I have ever had in
this life. Since I’ve been alive almost eighty years, that’s saying something.
I’ve come to realize over these last few weeks that my feelings have grown
beyond friendship. After Nancy died, I never expected—or even
wanted—to feel this way again. Although our outsides may show some wear
and tear, our insides tend to remain untouched by time. I’m still a young man
in my mind. And I’m falling for you. Head over heels. After much
thought—I’ve been up most of the night—I would like permission to
court you. Come out in the open with this thing. Frankly, I don’t give a damn
(pardon my French) what anyone else thinks.

I know that you may not feel the same way about
me. The hardest part about writing this note is that I might damage our friendship.
That’s the last thing I want. I’m writing this to you instead of telling you in
person, which I’d very much like to do, so that I don’t put you on the spot. If
you don’t return my feelings, or if you don’t want to pursue anything beyond
friendship, then please just ignore this note. No need to respond. If I don’t
hear anything from you, we’ll continue on as friends, like before, and I’ll
consider myself blessed.

If you’d be my gal, I’d be honored.

Yours faithfully,

Glenn

***

Gloria clutched the note, which
she’d read at least a dozen times, with shaking hands. She hadn’t entertained
the idea of a suitor in decades. She was in her mid-eighties. Was this the time
to risk her heart on such an unlikely romance? How did she really feel about
him? It wouldn’t be fair to start down this path if she couldn’t return his
affection. And what about their age difference? She was almost eight years
older than Glenn. Although she was in good health, that could change on a dime.
She’d just watched him care for Nancy during her long illness; she didn’t want
him to go through that again with her.

Gloria wandered to her bedroom and sank slowly to
the edge of her bed. After yet another read, she returned the note to its
envelope and placed it carefully on her nightstand. He would be here in ten
minutes to pick her up for dinner. She needed time to decide. For now, she’d remain
silent and he’d have to accept her continued friendship while she became sure,
in her heart, of her answer.

***

On the other side of Fairview
Terraces, Glenn Vaughn fidgeted like a schoolboy fearing he’d be caught passing
a note to a girl. Which, of course, was exactly what he had done. He had felt
good about the whole idea at seven thirty this morning when he had finally
thrown on some clothes, headed to the supermarket to buy flowers, and placed
the bouquet and note by Gloria’s door. He had even felt pleased with himself
when he returned home and stretched out in his recliner for a morning nap following
a sleepless night.

Upon waking in midafternoon, however, he was
filled with misgivings. What in the world had he done? He didn’t doubt his
feelings for Gloria, but why had he risked their friendship by trying to change
things? Wasn’t the status quo enough? Why had he been in such an all-fired
hurry? They weren’t getting any younger, that was true. But why was he trying
to rush into something new? What they had was good enough for him.

He showered and shaved, nicking himself twice.
Blast!
He tried to settle into a Sudoku puzzle, but could not force himself to concentrate.
He puttered around his home office until it was finally time to walk over to
Gloria’s. He checked his reflection in the mirror by his front door before he left.
Get hold of yourself,
he admonished.
You’re being a ridiculous old
fool. The die is cast; now it’s time to see what happens.

He knocked on her door at their usual time, to his
ears a little too loudly. She was on the phone when she opened the door. Smiling
at him and holding up her hand, she gestured with her thumb and index finger
that she would only be a moment longer. Since she hadn’t motioned for him to
come inside, Glenn waited patiently on her doorstep.

“Yes, yes, that’s right,” he overheard her say
sweetly to the person on the other end of the line. “Okay, I’ve got to go now.”
She paused to listen then stated firmly, “I really must get going, my friend is
here.”

Friend,
he thought. He felt himself droop.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. Bye now,” Gloria said as she
hung up and rushed through the door. “Honestly,” she huffed as they set off for
the dining hall. “You just cannot get some people off the phone. They don’t
take the hint. Drives me crazy.

“How are you?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Just fine, couldn’t be better,” he said, forcing
his familiar reply. He had fervently hoped that she would open her door and
tell him immediately that she felt the same way about him. He had worked out
several such scenarios, all with happily-ever-after endings. Still, she was
here and friendly, and was walking to dinner with him as before. He worried
briefly that she might not have received his flowers and note before dismissing
the fear as ridiculous.

Gloria smiled at him. “Good to hear it. I’d be
better if I hadn’t spent all afternoon listening to my cousin drone on and on
about her family and all of their problems. Honestly, they could be on one of
those reality television shows. I’m not proud to admit they’re relatives.”

Glenn cocked an eyebrow and gave her a quizzical
glance. Apparently, they were to remain as friends. He’d have to get over his
disappointment and be grateful for what he had.

“Sounds pretty titillating. Care to elaborate?” he
asked.

Gloria occupied the entire mealtime with a
detailed description of her cousin’s lineage, their shared “people,” and a
thorough cataloging of her cousin’s many relationships. Glenn couldn’t keep it
all straight and soon stopped trying. Gloria was on a roll, and he only needed
to nod or grunt knowingly from time to time. She finally turned to Glenn.

“So? What do you think I should tell her?” she
asked the ultimate, open-ended question.

Glenn hadn’t focused on the details and was caught
short. He didn’t want to appear uninterested in Gloria’s family, so he answered
tentatively, “What do the kids say these days? ‘She sounds like a hot mess!’”

To his relief, Gloria laughed. “That’s an
understatement, for sure. I’d love to say that. I’m going to tell her to give
her kids a big, life-changing gift—the gift of financial independence.
Get them off the payroll, for heaven’s sake. They’re in their forties and
fifties now. It’s way past time.” She looked expectantly at Glenn.

Emboldened, he responded, “Absolutely. She’s doing
them no favor by continuing to support them. They’ll figure things out. And
gain some pride and self-respect in the process. There’s no reason she should
be helping to support them.”

“Good. I’m glad you agree,” she replied. “I
promised I’d call her tomorrow. I’ll tell her that I’ve discussed this with
you.”