The Trouble with Cupid

by Carolyn Haines

  While this wasn't the first time she'd visited her brother's family in Wetumpka, it was the first time she was really on her own here. It was a pleasantly lazy sort of town, with a well-equipped library, a bookstore, and antique and junk shops, as well as a couple of good restaurants. In Atlanta, she always felt like a charged wire ran through her body, but here the charge was dimmed. Less urgent. After her run, she showered and had lunch and read for a while. Before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep on the comfortable couch. When she woke, it was 3:00 and nearly time to pick up Ally at school.

  * * *

  Gregg stood beside the woman Holly assumed was the teacher for the three and four-year-olds, his back against the open door to say goodbye to the children as they left. Ally stood to one side of the big group of parents and children, balancing on her tiptoes, probably looking for her. Holly waved to get her attention from a block away near the street corner. Ally started toward her, but suddenly stopped and turned back. Gregg was telling her something, and she stepped back to stay against the wall. Holly hurried toward them.

  She smiled to see Gregg, and found herself wanting to talk to him. But with so many people around, she didn't want to get in the way of his work. One of the young mothers was talking animatedly to him. She wore a fleece jacket, tight gym leggings and expensive, snowy white trainers. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that emphasized her delicate ears and the smoothness of her dewy face. Was she perhaps twenty-three or four? Surely she wasn't any older than twenty-five. She seemed to be working very hard to keep Gregg’s attention. Holly took an immediate dislike to her, which she knew wasn’t quite fair. Could it be that she was feeling jealous already? She didn’t like to think so, but there it was.

  Ally jumped into her arms when she got close. She was much heavier than she'd been the year before, with rounder cheeks and thicker legs and arms. Holly suspected she would be athletic like her mother, who had been a nationally ranked tennis player in college.

  "Can we get a smoothie on the way home? Please?" Ally bounced up and down in her arms.

  "Where can we go? Is there a smoothie place?"

  "They have smoothies at the health food store now. Pleeeeeease?"

  Holly nodded. "Let's say goodbye to your teacher first."

  Ally whispered, "You like my teacher, don't you?" Then she climbed out of Holly's arms and skipped to her baby seal-shaped backpack, which leaned against a wall.

  Stunned, and turning a little pink, Holly pushed her loose hair behind one ear. She fiddled with her hair when she was unsettled. They would leave immediately so Ally wouldn't have any reason to mention her teacher again. Why did Ally have to be such a perceptive child?

  "Let's go." She held out her hand to Ally.

  As they walked through the diminished group, Gregg caught her eye and she waved with what she hoped wasn't a too-eager cheerfulness. To her surprise, he said something to the pretty young mother and walked quickly over to Holly and Ally. Over his shoulder, Holly saw the young mother gave her a critical appraisal then turn quickly away.

  "My aunt likes you," Ally said to him in a loud voice.

  Holly felt herself turn even pinker. She gave Gregg an awkward smile, and couldn't help but notice he looked slightly abashed as well.

  "It's good to make new friends," he said, ruffling Ally's hair.

  Ally looked about to speak again, but Holly was relieved when she didn't.

  Gregg lowered his voice. "Let's go for a drink tonight. I'll pick you up at eight?"

  "Great!" Her answer came way faster and louder than she intended it to. But she didn't want to hang around longer in case Ally announced it to everyone. "See you then."

  She tugged at Ally's hand and they started away. She kind of hoped the pretty young mother was watching them.

  They walked the block to the health food store where Holly picked up some protein bars and a brand of granola she particularly liked. Ally ordered their smoothies—a strawberry one for herself and a pineapple spinach one for Holly—from the man behind the counter. He had long hair pulled back into a pony-tail, and a prominent Adam's apple that bobbed when he talked.

  "Hey, you go to the Montessori school, right?" he asked Ally.

  Holly's ears perked up. Should she let Ally talk with the store clerk? He seemed to know her.

  "Mr. Davidson is my teacher. He likes my aunt." She turned and pointed at Holly. "That's my aunt."

  "That's cool," the man said. He looked about twenty. Holly wondered if he went to college somewhere or if this was his preferred job. She paid for the smoothies and the food.

  "How do you like Wetumpka?" he asked her.

  "It's sweet," she said. "How'd you know I don't live here?"

  He gave an awkward laugh. "Because I've never seen you in here before. But she comes in here with her mom. I know everyone. Wetumpka's my town."

  Holly nodded, thinking the guy was a little weird. She was glad when he delivered their smoothies to where they sat near the window, then disappeared into a back room. "Why did you get me one with spinach?" she asked Ally.

  "Because grownups like green smoothies and spinach is the darkest green." Ally sounded perfectly confident in her decision.

  "Oh." Holly was glad grownups didn't like brown smoothies or she might have ended up with liver.

  They talked about school, Ally prattling on about who got in trouble and who had all stars on their chore chart. Holly was glad she was no longer fixated on her "liking" Gregg.

  "That's her," Ally said, pointing out the window.

  "Who?" Holly looked where she was pointing and saw a small woman in a celadon tweed coat that looked like it was from another century. The teasing February breeze was stymied by her thoroughly sprayed, gray-blond hair. She squinted, though there were eyeglasses hanging from her neck. Could she not see very well? Despite her strange, retro appearance, she didn't look all that old. In fact, she had solid calves above her homely brogues. "Is she the lady with the glasses? What was her name?"

  "Miss Marian was the teacher at the school I used to go to. Mommy said I shouldn't go there anymore because even the big kids had to take naps. She said I was bored."

  "Bored is the worst."

  Ally shrugged. "I liked it okay. Miss Marian is nice. She used to be everyone's teacher. My new school is harder work but more fun, and Mr. Davidson is the nicest.

  Holly could see where hanging out with Gregg Davidson would be fun. She'd never dated a really nice guy before, and tonight would definitely be a date. Trent would probably give her no end of hell.

  On the way home, they passed the Book Basket, Wetumpka's independent bookstore, and lingered at the colorful display of children's books in one of the windows.

  "You want to go in?" Holly asked.

  "Not today. We went there on Saturday."

  Ally held tightly to her hand as they crossed side streets on the way back to the house. She seemed subdued, but Holly knew she could go through a hundred moods in one day like every other child.

  They were only a block from the house when Holly got that feeling at the back of her neck again. She stopped so that Ally had to stop as well. A few yards behind them, the big black cat was rubbing its chin on the edge of an old wrought iron gate.

  "Hey, Munchkin, do you know that cat?"

  "That's Trouble. He lives at the bookstore and sometimes he comes to our school."

  "Trouble? That's a funny name. He looks perfectly sweet."

  Ally dropped her hand and ran to pet him. He patiently endured her careful pats on his back and head. When she was done, she told the cat goodbye and skipped ahead to wait at the next corner. Still, the cat followed them.

  They reached the house. Trent's car was already in the driveway.

  "Daddy's home!" Ally ran up the porch steps and stood waiting at the door for Holly. This time, the cat followed Holly onto the porch. He sat down on the top step and meowed loudly.

  "I think he wants in," Holly said, mildly alarmed. What did the ca
t want with her?

  "No. He can't come in. That would be bad," Ally said. She stomped her foot hard on the porch boards so both the cat and Holly startled. "Daddy wouldn't like it."

  Holly watched the cat walk off slowly. She felt rather bad for the poor thing. It wasn't like Ally to be so mean to animals.

  * * *

  This Holly person is extremely interesting. She seems intelligent and kind. Wetumpka could use more nice women like her. I’m certain she would be just the type to enjoy a book club at the Book Basket. When she’s out walking again, I must encourage her to come into the store and meet Tammy Lynn. But she’s a tad slow on the uptake, I fear. By now she should have invited me into the house for a snack. She looks the anchovy paté type. And I would definitely like to get inside the house to look around.

  I do believe Gregg has taken a fancy to Holly. Between the missing mice and the unwanted artwork at the school, he could use the distraction. As someone responsible for all those undoubtedly bright young minds, he’s in a precarious position. The culprits need to be found. I’ve seen the vandalized properties around town, and to my discerning eye, something about the graffiti at the school doesn’t fit. Brains and the vigilance of a Scotland Yard detective will be required to find the answers. Luckily for Gregg, I have both.

  * * *

  Gregg leaned forward to hear Holly better. The bluesy roadhouse music was meant more for dancing than get-to-know-you conversation. But he'd wanted to get away from town and all the Nosy Parkers who would gossip about who the widowed kindergarten teacher was dating. Finally, the music changed to a slow number, and they no longer had to shout.

  "Why here, deep in Alabama?" Holly asked.

  "A couple of reasons." He opened and closed his hands. A nervous habit he had when he had to say something difficult. "Alabama has less funding for schools than Tennessee, and we wanted to come to an underserved area."

  "We? You and your co-teachers?"

  "No. My wife and I made plans for years to do it while we were both teaching in Nashville. Actually, I was a principal at a private elementary school. She had the Montessori training, and her people were from Wetumpka. Her parents live in Birmingham now."

  "Are you...divorced?" she asked. "Trent didn't say. In fact, Trent didn't tell me anything at all about you."

  Her question was asked so innocently, and her gaze so friendly and open, he steeled himself for how she would react when he answered. He hated to see pity in people's eyes. He knew they meant well, but it was still uncomfortable. At least it no longer made him feel the blow all over again. Here I go.

  "My wife died three years ago. Her car was totaled by a drunk driver. She died instantly." It was his canned response. There was no easier way to say it.

  Holly didn't look shocked or upset or pitying, but she took a moment to absorb the information before speaking. Her deep gray eyes were thoughtful. He'd always thought of people with gray eyes as cold and unemotional. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "I can't even imagine. It's wonderful how you chose to carry on with your plans. The kids obviously love you." She paused. "I don't mean they could replace her. Just that it's like you did the right thing, you know?"

  Gregg felt the tension in his hands and in his whole body subside. "Thank you for saying that. Sometimes when the town council is griping about zoning, and a parent is unhappy about fees, even though I keep them as low as I possibly can, or—you know—when idiots spray-paint the front door, it feels like I'm slogging uphill. Marta loved kids, and at first I think I really did it for her. But now it's for me. For the kids."

  Holly nodded. They both knew there wasn't much to say after that. She took a sip of her bourbon, then reached across the table to take his hand. "Let's dance."

  Gregg smiled. It was just the right thing for her to say. They left the booth for the dance floor where other couples were already swaying to a second slow song. Her body fitted against him like it had been shaped just for that purpose and their feet moved together, easy and slow. It felt sensual and comfortable, and he held her that much closer, unashamed and feeling grateful that someone so beautiful and smart was with him at all. The past few years, he'd lost touch with the wanting inside himself.

  When the song was over, the music quickly went up-tempo and they pulled apart, laughing. Gregg started off the dance floor, but she touched his arm to bring him back. He felt like he was eighteen again, ready for an adventure.

  Later, they moved to a quieter table and shared a couple of appetizers. They talked books and music and studiously avoided politics. He figured there would be time for that later. The thought that she would soon go back to Atlanta was far in the back of his mind. Far enough that he almost forgot it.

  The night turned chilly after the playfully temperate day. As they walked to the car, he put his jacket around Holly's shoulders and she pulled it closed gratefully. They drove in silence most of the way back to town. He played with the idea of asking her back to his apartment on Mansion Street. His body ached for her, and from the way she'd stayed close to him and looked at him, he believed her feelings were similar. But something told him to wait.

  Out of habit, he cut down the street running in front of the school. After school he'd changed the spotlight bulb the graffiti artist had knocked out, and he wanted to see how it looked. He slowed the car.

  "I'll be damned. Those idiots did it again."

  * * *

  Holly sucked in her breath, not quite believing what she was seeing. "I don't believe it. How could they? That's crazy."

  Gregg pulled the car to the curb in front of the school. The spotlight above the door, which he'd told her he'd replaced that afternoon, was dark. But there was enough light from the streetlamp to make out the curse words and vulgar images of male and female body parts sprayed in black over the door's bright blue paint.

  While Gregg dialed the police, Holly got out and took a few photos with her phone camera. She was used to graffiti on abandoned buildings in Atlanta, but it was startling to see it on a school in a small, quiet town. It creeped her out. Why pick on the school? It seemed so mean and unnecessary.

  Gregg got out of the car to stand beside her.

  "Got any more of that paint?" she asked.

  "Some. I hope it's enough."

  They stood staring at the doors. Holly could feel his anger, and she was angry as well.

  "You'd think they could find something better to do with their time," he said. "I know kids are kids, but this is getting serious. You can't drive down a street now without finding at least one building they've ruined. For a while they stuck to abandoned buildings—and there are enough of those. But this is different. They have to be caught."

  A police cruiser came around the corner, seemingly not in a hurry, its blue lights reflecting off the building and nearby trees. The officer parked behind Gregg's car, leaving the lights flashing. It all seemed rather dramatic to Holly. There were businesses nearby rather than houses, so maybe it wasn't drawing too much attention. A petite, serious-looking woman got out of the cruiser. Her expression was a blank mask, though her narrow nose and chin gave her a foxy, clever look.

  "Mr. Davidson?" She said nothing to Holly.

  "You know this also happened last night?" Gregg said. "I thought you all were going to be patrolling through here."

  Holly noted he wasn't losing his temper, but he definitely wasn't worried about letting her see how angry he was.

  "Sir, I understand you're frustrated with the situation. Please take a step back." She looked up at him with a grim expression.

  Holly put a gentle hand on his arm. Sometimes she also forgot that her height occasionally intimidated people. Gregg's stance was threatening, but she wasn't sure he realized it. How interesting that this calm man who was so patient with children could show so much anger with his body.

  Gregg let out a heavy sigh and took a step backwards. "Sorry," he said. "Thanks for coming."

  The officer relaxed a bit as well, and they examined the damag
e. No other part of the building had been touched, but shards of glass from the spotlight lay in front of the door. Holly waited as they talked. She was still wearing Gregg's jacket, and felt bad because he was probably cold as well. She leaned against the car and checked her email on her phone. Then she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Something in the bushes moved. It wasn't making enough noise to be human, and she thought of skunks or raccoons. She hoped it wasn't a skunk.

  A black cat—surely Trouble—emerged from the bushes and meowed up at her. Gregg and the officer didn't seem to hear it.

  "What are you doing here?" Holly whispered. Trouble rubbed his whiskers and chin on the lowest boxwood leaves, marking them. It was so cute, she couldn't resist going over to pet him. "You should be home. It's late." She scratched him behind the ears and he pushed against her hand. But when she tried to stop, he butted her hand insistently. "I can't pet you forever, cat."

  He turned to go deeper into the bushes, but immediately came back and bumped her again. He obviously wanted something.

  "I've got nothing," she said.

  The cat opened his mouth and lightly rested his teeth on her hand, giving her a little tug. It didn't hurt at all, and Holly realized he wanted her to follow. She couldn't crawl through the bushes, so stood to poke around inside them. It didn't take her long to find the uncapped can of spray-paint.

  * * *

  As the officer put the can in a plastic bag, Gregg recounted what the officer said. "She said they picked up the vandals earlier tonight. A bunch of middle school kids. Someone called anonymously and told the police where to find them. They caught them as they were just getting started at the A.M.E. Church."

  "Really?" Holly said. "So they don't even need the paint can. Trouble went to all that trouble for nothing." She smiled at her own joke.

  Gregg shook his head. "The kids confessed to everything except the school. Apparently every other building had nonsense shapes and letters. Nothing like this." He pointed to the obscenity-covered doors.