Breaking the Mould

by Victoria Hamilton

  Alone, he walked to the door, where the coat check attendant retrieved an elegant black wool trench, handing it to him.

  Nezer chuckled. “Bravo, little peacock,” he said loudly as the pastor exited. “He handled that better than I expected.” Some of his friends, including the college president’s minions, chuckled. He nabbed a glass of champagne from a tray being carried by Jacklyn Marley.

  Jaymie blanched; given how Jacklyn felt about him, he’d better hope there was no poison in that glass. He didn’t appear to notice who held the tray, but then, that was the fate of most servers, as she knew from serving tea at their annual Tea With the Queen event.

  “You’re a spiteful old gasbag, aren’t you,” Brock said, his voice slurring as he stumbled toward his host.

  “Oh, crap,” Valetta mumbled, setting her drink aside and dusting quiche crumbs from her fingers.

  “I beg your pardon?” Nezer said, turning slowly. “Nibley, are you drunk?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then you ought to shut up. Or I’ll tell everyone what I really think of your skills as a real estate agent.”

  “Darn. How do we stop this?” Val asked, almost vibrating in agitation next to Jaymie.

  Jakob, nearby, put his hand on Brock’s arm. But the fellow shook it off. “You tell ’em whatever you want, Nezer, about me. Everyone here may kowtow to you, but every single one of ’em knows exactly what you are. Poisonous old Farty McFartpants.”

  “Wow, he’s been hanging out with his kids too much,” Jaymie said, stifling a laugh.

  “Tell me about it. Farty McFartpants is Will’s favorite insult this week,” Valetta said about her nephew, Brock’s son. “And lately Brock has been calling me ‘dude’ a lot.”

  Jaymie laughed out loud, and Brock turned with a sideways smile. He straightened, pounded his chest, and said, “I’m a good real estate agent.” He nodded drunkenly and turned back to Nezer. “But you were a lousy client,” he said, stabbing the air with a finger as, increasingly, those around them hid smiles.

  “Lousy client? How can the customer be a lousy client?” Nezer appeared aghast. “Without clients you would be nowhere. Your client is your boss!”

  “Hey, it happens. A lousy client is one who won’t take good advice even when it’s spoon-fed to him. No harm, no foul.” The situation was defused as Brock ambled off and collapsed on a sofa in the space Inkerman had vacated. “Farty McFartpants,” he mumbled with a drunken giggle.

  As Brock snoozed, the party continued on a more subdued track. Nezer spent much of the next while huddled with the president and her two colleagues. Hazel Belcher appeared to be taking him to task. Heidi reappeared, shadowed closely by Benjamin Nezer, seemingly infatuated with her. She decided to call it a night early, and after hugs all around, headed out.

  Jaymie sighed in exasperation after her friend left. The night was not going as she had anticipated. She had thought that after charming Nezer with her witty banter, she could subtly ask him to discard his animosity toward Bill Waterman and allow the historical society an easement on his property to anchor the cider booth. It had always been a long shot, given that she suspected he was the one who set the cider booth afire, but you don’t get anything in life without asking, as she was learning. However . . . nothing had gone according to plan.

  Valetta was soon yawning, too. “I’m taking my dear brother home,” she said, motioning to Brock, who was snoring on the sofa, his head on a bemused young woman’s shoulder. “My feet are killing me, and Denver is waiting up.” She hauled her brother to his feet, slung his arm over her shoulder, and departed.

  Jaymie leaned her head on Jakob’s shoulder. “Can we escape too, do you think?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Together they found Bella Nezer by the front window, looking out as her party went on all around her, albeit somewhat muted.

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Jakob said.

  “And thank you for a lovely evening. You’ve done a wonderful job with the house in such short order!” Jaymie said, taking her hand and shaking it.

  She sighed and her eyes looked slightly teary as she squeezed Jaymie’s hand. “I had hoped inviting Pastor Inkerman would be a good move to get the two men to behave politely to each other, but their animosity is too deeply held, I suppose. Poor Vaughn loathes Evan.”

  “Did you know that your husband is the reviewer who slammed Pastor Inkerman’s book so badly?” Jaymie asked.

  “I did not,” she said indignantly. “My husband is a very private person and his work is his own. I don’t interfere.” She gazed earnestly into Jaymie’s eyes. “You know, Evan means well, he just has strong opinions.”

  “So their animosity predates the pastor knowing your husband was the negative reviewer?”

  Bella sighed and rolled her shoulders. “Both work at the college, you know, and . . . they have philosophical differences. I knew they didn’t see eye to eye, but I never would have expected it to end with such . . . animosity.” Her gaze hardened and her lips thinned. “I’m a little shocked at Pastor Inkerman, in truth. That was not Evan’s doing, that altercation.”

  It sounded like Bella was defending her husband, which was understandable, but Jaymie felt there was bad behavior on both sides. Nezer was a name-calling taunter, and surely had inspired his share of fights before the pastor threw a drink at him. Bella had certainly invited and employed a whole host of folks who were antagonized by Nezer . . . Inkerman, Brock, Jacklyn Marley . . . even herself, who had had her own run-in with Nezer. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing and moved on, deciding on diplomacy over honesty in that moment. “We’ll be heading out now. Can’t let the babysitter wait up too late. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Good night,” she said, grabbing Jaymie’s hand. “I truly hope you all have a lovely Dickens Days festival. I’m so excited about it, you know. Living here, I feel we’ll be a part of it, right in the thick of things! I look forward to strolling the town and enjoying the amenities.”

  Jaymie was speechless, and beside her she knew Jakob was struggling not to laugh. How could Bella say that, given her husband’s intent to ruin it with one lawsuit after another? Jaymie even considered Nezer the prime suspect in torching the cider booth, so deeply did his animosity toward their lovely little town tradition appear to run.

  Bella returned to her husband’s dwindling group and stepped between him and the president, who were having an animated disagreement. Life with him must be a tornado of stomping out the fires he created with his fractious personality and divisive behavior. She almost pitied the woman.

  “I need to use the little girl’s room first, Jakob,” Jaymie said and headed to the back hall. The guests had been pointed to an elaborate washroom up the stairs, but she preferred the closer option Val had used earlier.

  She did what she had to do, then thought she’d stop and thank Erla for all her hard work. She ducked into the kitchen. Austin and the other servers were gone, and there were only two of the catering staff left, now that food service was done. They were packing their equipment. But Erla was busy; Pastor Inkerman must have circled the house and entered the kitchen, perhaps with the same mission she had of thanking the housekeeper for all of her labor. Inkerman stood near the back door speaking with Erla Fancombe most earnestly, his fair hair gleaming in the light from the pendants that hung over the counter.

  Jaymie decided not to interfere and headed back to join Jakob. He was chatting with the coat checker, who must be another of the hired college students. She was by the office door, but it was closed.

  “We’d like our coats,” Jaymie said.

  Jakob handed the young woman the numbered ticket. “It’s a dark gray parka and a faux fur cape or . . . what do you call it?” he asked, turning to Jaymie.

  “It’s a shrug,” she said to the young woman. “A black faux fur shrug with a diamante snowflake pin on the shoulder. That and the dark gray parka ought to be together.”

  The girl
looked embarrassed. She looked over her shoulder, shifting from foot to foot, folding the coat check ticket in her hands, looking nervous. “Uh, can you wait a minute?”

  Jaymie glanced at the closed door. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “N-nothing, it’s just . . . it’s . . .” She shook her head. “I . . . I can’t . . .” She shrugged helplessly, a frightened look in her blue eyes.

  “We’ll get them ourselves,” Jaymie said, deeply weary and unwilling to wait a moment longer. She slipped around her, pushed open the office door and marched over to the rack, with Jakob following. “Why have a coat check girl if . . .” She stopped and turned to look at a weird glow behind the desk. Someone was there, in the shadows, she could hear them tapping away. She walked across the room to find Jacklyn Marley huddled behind Nezer’s desk, the computer screen illuminating her pale face.

  “What are you—”

  “Shh!” Jacklyn said, looking past Jaymie to the open door.

  “What are you doing, Jacklyn?” Jaymie whispered. “This is crazy.”

  Jacklyn glared up at Jaymie, the white reflected glow making eerie long shadows under her eyes. “That butthole is hiding revenue from me. He’s claiming the book I helped him write hasn’t made any money,” she muttered. “If I can find royalty payments on his computer it’ll make it worth my while to sue him. But I have to have info first, to know I’ll win. He’s a maniac jerk about lawsuits! I need that money.”

  “Can’t you ask the publishing company?”

  “Shhh!” She bobbed up, looking toward the door, which had been closed by the coat checker. “My agreement is with Evan. The publishing company won’t even return my calls or answer my emails. Please, Jaymie, go away. Pretend you didn’t see this!”

  “You’ve got that poor girl standing guard for you,” Jaymie whispered, pointing toward the door. “She’s scared to death. What is she, a student at WC?”

  Jacklyn nodded.

  “And you’ve got her standing guard for you? That’s not right. Any second Nezer could come here and she’d be in big trouble.”

  “Look, I’m almost done.” She shoved a flash drive into the USB and tapped the keyboard. She looked back up at Jaymie. “Get out and let me finish! I’m almost there. Please!”

  Conflicted, Jaymie shared a look with Jakob. “What do you think?”

  He shook his head. “Look, I don’t know the whole story here and you do,” he murmured, putting his arm over her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “This is your call, Jaymie. We’ll do what you think best. No harm, no foul either way.”

  She stared down at Jacklyn, then back at the door. Sighing heavily, she said to her husband, “Let’s get our coats and leave.”

  “I owe you!” Jacklyn softly called after her.

  “No, you don’t,” Jaymie said, her tone firm, as Jakob found their coats. “I won’t cover for you if Bella or Evan comes in here this moment.”

  Jakob helped her on with her shrug and they slipped out the door, closing it behind them, and headed past the coat checker, whose face was red and blotchy, her eyes full of fear.

  “I didn’t . . . poor Jacklyn . . . I mean, like, Mr. Nezer was so mean to her,” she stammered. “And she was such a good teacher, and I . . .” She shrugged.

  “I didn’t know she taught at WC.”

  “Yeah. She was . . . cool. Creative writing and English classics.”

  “But she no longer teaches there? Why?”

  “Well, uh . . .” The young woman glanced around, then leaned forward. “Mr. Nezer got her fired, I heard.”

  “Why?”

  The girl shrugged.

  “Enough,” Jacklyn hissed, slipping out of the room as she pocketed the flash drive. “Good night, Jaymie. Thanks again.” She stalked down the hallway toward the kitchen as another couple came toward them to retrieve their coats.

  Jaymie took Jakob’s arm. “Look out for yourself,” she whispered to the student. She nodded with a tentative smile as she turned to her new customers and took their coat check ticket.

  Jaymie and Jakob stepped out the front door. It was a frigid night, crisp and clean-scented, a hint of snow on the breeze. A few flakes fluttered down, but there were also some stars winking in the sky. Jaymie felt a calmness descend over her and she breathed in deeply. “I think I was tense most of the time we were there,” she whispered, strolling down the path arm in arm with Jakob. “Maybe that’s why I feel so relieved now.”

  “Why tense?”

  She handed Jakob the keys so he could drive. “I’m not sure, but . . . the altercation between Nezer and Pastor Inkerman, for one, and Brock getting drunk and insulting the host.”

  “But neither of those were your doing.”

  “I know, I know. I guess I tend to worry about those things too much.” She had a moment of clarity. “Maybe that’s why functions have always been difficult for me. I usually need a few minutes in the middle to decompress.”

  “That’s why you head off to examine the bookshelves at any house party we’ve attended.”

  “Well, partly, but mostly because I think you can tell a lot about a person by what books they read.”

  They circled to where their car was parked, along the lane near the back of the house. As Jakob unlocked and got in the driver’s side, Jaymie glanced over to the back door and saw Finn Fancombe arguing with his mother again, his voice carrying clearly in the crisp still air.

  “Mom, I need to talk to Professor Nezer. He has to write me that letter! I’m going to lose everything if he doesn’t. The president would listen to him, I know she would. She as good as told me that all that was holding me back from re-admission was him.”

  “Let me handle it, Finn,” Erla Fancombe said, grabbing his shoulder as he tried to slip past her into the house. “I told you I’d take care of it.”

  “You promise, Mom? You promise?”

  “I promise, Finn. But you have to get out of here before Mr. or Mrs. Nezer sees you. Tonight’s not the night.”

  “But the president is still in there. I saw her through the window. The prof could solve it all tonight, if he wanted to.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “It’s his fault in the first place! I hate him so much,” he said, his voice rising in anger, sounding on the edge of tears. “I hate that I have to beg him for help. It’s not right!”

  “Jaymie, you coming?” Jakob called out the SUV window.

  Fascinated by people as always, and wanting to hear the rest of the conversation, Jaymie waved her hand, shushing him, and continued listening, lingering in the shadows of a large blue spruce that perfumed the cold air around her.

  “Finn, go!” Erla said, trying to push her son away from the back door. “Let me handle this. I can’t help you if the professor gets mad again. That’s what happened in the first place. You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t made him angry by complaining he’d used your work.”

  “I know, I know! My effin’ bad. I didn’t think the stupid jerk would be such a big baby. He should have said he’d used my stuff accidentally and we’d all have moved on. But noooo, he has to take it out on me. He’s such a frickin’ liar!”

  “You’ve known him your whole life, you should know what he’s like,” she said, her voice carrying through the cold, crisp air.

  “Yeah, I’ve known him my whole life. I know enough to know he’s a cheat and a jerk.”

  “Son, you shut your mouth right now and go away,” the woman said, a hysterical edge to her voice. “You know if you put a foot wrong, or say something about him, he’ll come back on you twice as hard. Look what happened to poor Mrs. Sarah.”

  “Okay, but Mom, this has to happen if I’m going to be able to restart my master’s. I’ve sunk everything into this. I can’t get a job, even, with a black mark on my academic record. Please help me!”

  “You know I will, hon. Now go!”

  “But you and I need to talk. Prof Nezer said he has something to tell me tonight, and I can’t—” />
  “Go now!” She looked over her shoulder. “I have work to do. Go. Trust me.”

  He turned and fled into the darkness, down a path toward the back of the property. Erla retreated inside.

  “Poor guy,” Jaymie said as she got in and closed the door behind her.

  “What’s that all about?” Jakob asked as he started the SUV.

  As they drove home Jaymie explained about Finn Fancombe, the plagiarism scandal, and his subsequent ouster from the studious halls of Wolverhampton College. She told Jakob how Finn had been in the kitchen earlier in the night, and had returned to plague his mother. It was weighing on his mind, and he clearly wanted to clear the air with the college president, who was so close, and yet so far away.

  “Given everything you’ve told me, I’d bet that Nezer has some crooked angle on the whole thing.”

  Jaymie frowned as they pulled up to the cabin. “I never thought about that, but I wonder. The paper reported on it. I wonder what Nan’s take was on the whole thing? That was a month ago or so.”

  “Let’s not borrow trouble, as your grandmother says. It is time for bed, my dearly beloved,” Jakob said as he got out and raced around to open her door for her. “Milady,” he said with a deep bow and flourish.

  Jaymie chuckled and took his arm. Jakob wasn’t often playful, but when he was, it was a delight. Dearly beloved, indeed. She was a lucky woman.

  Eight

  Becca and Kevin had stayed over, sleeping in Jaymie and Jakob’s bed while the younger couple spent the night on the pull-out sofa in the living room. They were all up early, Jaymie still yawning and stretching as she drowsily downed a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. It was the kickoff to Dickens Days, and they were already behind schedule. Kevin made breakfast, a decadent stuffed French toast with his own blueberry sauce. Jaymie groaned in delight through the whole thing, then raced back upstairs to don leggings, a long sweater and a scarf. Kevin and Becca were taking Jocie shopping at a pop-up Christmas market in Wolverhampton, and then to her grandparents’, the rest of the day for Christmas arts and crafts with Sonya and her kids, Helmut’s stepchildren.