Dearest Dorothy, If Not Now, When?

by Charlene Baumbich

  “I was hoping I’d already made myself clear here, Mr. Vitner, and now I’m hoping I speak for more than myself when I say many of us plan to make money on our square in our town. But most importantly,” she paused to cast her eyes around, allowing herself to connect with as many people as possible in a short amount of time, “we plan to do it together.”

  Any worries Nellie Ruth harbored about her beau’s boss were forgotten when Edward Showalter jumped up and started a standing ovation. “Didn’t she do fine!” he said to Nellie Ruth, as he grabbed her around the waist and snuggled her close up beside him.

  Although Maggie Malone was still a tad miffed Katie didn’t frequent her shop, and worried that Hands On might try to steal some of her spa business by selling its own line of aromatherapy products, she suddenly felt akin to a woman who was unafraid to so boldly take a risk and fight for it. A sister entrepreneur! WOMAN POWER! she thought as she joined in the applause. Plus, she was already wondering what kind of hair Melissa Dertinger had on her head and how soon she could get her hands in it.

  Lester K. Biggs had never let on to a soul that he worried about competition from a silly tea room. One night after he’d locked up, he took a good look around his business establishment. It was as if time and routine had blinded him. He couldn’t remember when, if ever, he’d last redecorated the place, when he’d stopped noticing, really, the small tears in the vinyl stool covers, the yellowed plastic covering the hand-scrawled and photocopied menus. How long had the Wednesday special been liver and onions? But at the end of his surveying, even after asking himself all of these questions, he’d come up with one conclusion: what was the point of fixing the place up when the usuals came all the time anyway? Who really cared?

  But tonight, after listening to Katie Durbin speak so proudly about the future, perhaps it was time he did. Yes, he had the familiar U-shaped counter filled with his usuals who nestled around his work area surrounding him like the family he never had, but the Tea Cozy would offer curiosity, new paint, fresh choices in eats. And if the mall did attract as many new visitors as Katie seemed to think it would, how many of the non-Tea Cozy types who circled the square would even bother to stop to check out his burgers when the place looked so rundown? It was time, he concluded at this very moment in his clapping, to give Harry’s Grill a good sprucing up. Might even be time to at long last rename it Lester’s or The Biggs Place.

  Challie Carter chewed on his toothpick, deftly using his tongue to switch it from one side of his mouth to the other as he stood with his hands buried deep in his pockets. Although he’d always considered Colton Craig the king of development, it was clear he didn’t have a thing over Ms. Durbin. He wondered if he shouldn’t give the gutsy broad a call, see if they had something more to discuss.

  Pastor Delbert Carol Jr. and his entire family looked like their buttons might just pop. To think they’d recently entertained the likes of Katie Durbin, his half-sister, no less, in their very own dining room! What a sibling duo, Marianne thought: a brother who saves souls and a sister who saves the town!

  The guy back in the shadows, who had acted in college theater productions, wondered if he hadn’t just witnessed the greatest performance of the decade. He could smell greed a mile away, but there it stood fewer than one hundred feet in front of him wearing high heels at the end of those shapely legs.

  George Gustafson knew one thing: that silver-tongued woman continued to drive right on by his gas station to spend her money, right out of the town she claimed was theirs. She hadn’t uttered a single word this evening to change the truth of that.

  “Hows bouts we take us a ten-minute break here ta grab some of those there doughnuts!” Arthur yelped before Swifty could take the microphone to begin the debate. Smatterings of “I second that motion” filled the room and before anyone could officially recess the meeting, a mad dash was on for the refreshment table.

  “People,” Swifty said after tapping the microphone with his finger several times, “we will begin again in exactly ten minutes, so get your doughnuts, hit the bathroom if you must, then get back in your seats so you don’t miss a word of the debate. Our election is exactly three weeks away and this evening is the best chance each candidate will have to set the record straight and dialogue with each other in front of all of us.”

  Nobody was listening since it seemed everyone who wasn’t racing for a doughnut gathered around Katie to congratulate her. You’d have thought she just won the election. Before she even had a chance to grab a sorely needed cup of coffee, someone flipped the lights on and off a few-times and people scurried back to their seats. Swifty first introduced Sam, who bounded up to the front of the room and took his place behind the podium on the left, which had been moved into place during the break. Sam clasped his hands over his head, pumped his arms and hopped up and down as though he were a prizefighter taking his corner, attempting to rev his supporters back up after Katie’s knock-down applause before the break. Then Swifty introduced “Our very own Acting Mayor Gladys McKern!”

  Who was nowhere to be found.

  23

  In the privacy of her dark house, Acting Mayor Gladys McKern removed her ever-present bronze mayoral name tag, carefully placed it on her dresser, then collapsed face down on her bed and wept. It was clear that after Katie’s sterling performance, Partonville Pleasantries was here to stay. But after her own spineless breakdown—and what else could she call it but that?—it also seemed inevitable that a new mayor would be performing the ribbon-cutting ceremony which was to take place less than two weeks after the election. There was no point dragging out the misery until then, especially since it would be too cruel to lose her life’s mission on election day, April Fool’s Day, which suddenly seemed prophetic.

  What was she to do with the rest of her life now?

  Sam made a snide comment or two about the “Acting Mayor acting like a disappearing act.” He laughed but barely anyone else did. Whether people were for or against Gladys, most were unnerved by her disappearance since knowing Gladys, they were pretty sure only illness or foul play could keep her away from standing in front of an audience. The meeting was dismissed early, thereby causing a race on the remaining doughnuts.

  In order to beat the crowd, Harold scooted out the back door and went straight to his office to write up a recap of Katie’s presentation while his notes were still fresh. Sharon set out following Sergeant McKenzie, a man of the law in search of a missing person. Sharon, right on his heels, was a reporter chasing her first possible abduction case since what else could possibly explain Gladys’s disappearance? Caleb, Gladys’s son, told them both he couldn’t imagine his mother voluntarily just skipping out on such an important event nor had he noticed her leave, and he’d been sitting right behind her.

  Mac began his search in the parking lot, stopping each vehicle at the exit to make sure Gladys hadn’t arrived with them as a passenger. Before the debate was declared defunct he’d already checked for her car (not there) and phoned her home (no answer). When some folks volunteered to form their own search parties, Mac told them to go on home saying that if he needed help, he’d have the churches simultaneously ring their bells, which was the town’s unofficial alert system for just about anything including tornadoes. (Arthur used to tease everyone saying that if he ever won the lottery, “them bells’ll be pealin’ fer hours cuz I’ll ring ’em till we’re all plumb deaf!”)

  On the way to their car, Dorothy invited May Belle to come on over to her house for awhile, what with all those cookies still safely wrapped in her bags and it being so early due to the unexpected and abrupt halt to the evening.

  “That would be nice,” Jacob said. “We’ll give Earl a call when we get home and have him join us.”

  In the glow of the parking lot lights, May Belle checked her wristwatch. Not quite 8. “He’s likely still up, but first you’ll have to get him to answer the phone, which isn’t likely. If you don�
��t mind swinging by our house, Jacob, I’ll run in and see if I can’t talk him into it. Whether he’s interested or not, though, I’ll take you up on that since this is one of the rare events I didn’t have to stay late to clean up and pack up, thanks to the doughnut shop. It’s not that I ever mind cleanup detail, but it’s nice to just eat somebody else’s goodies for a change and head out.”

  “Personally, I skipped the doughnuts,” Jacob said, first opening the car door for his mom, then for May Belle. “When I saw all those dozens of doughnuts on the table, I figured you wouldn’t need to serve your baked goods. I better get your sweets for free while I can, before I have to buy them from the Tea Cozy,” he said with a grin.

  Jacob reminded May Belle to buckle up just as Mac approached their car to make sure Gladys wasn’t inside.

  “Oh, sorry, Jacob,” Mac said. “I already checked with you. I still need to get used to your car.” He motioned them out of the lot.

  “How’s the house hunt going?” May Belle asked from the back seat, leaning slightly forward to make sure she heard his reply.

  “It’s not.”

  “You mean you’ve quit looking and decided to just stay with your old mom?” Dorothy said playfully, although she certainly wouldn’t complain if he did.

  “No. Herb’s still keeping an eye out for me, but he hasn’t found anything yet that matches my criteria. Although I didn’t get to see the interior, the house that Matt and Melissa Dertinger bought . . . they’re the owners of the new Garden Goodies, right? . . . might have been perfect since it had an extra bedroom for home office space, not too much yard and yet good privacy, but since Katie has the inside track with Herb, by the time I saw the listing it was sold. Plus, there was a house about the right size off the south side of the square, which would have made a convenient walk to work, but Katie snapped it up too. Herb said she was banking it for another of her off-square speculation opportunities.” Jacob sounded somewhat miffed.

  “Before you stop by May Belle’s, would you take a quick drive by Gladys’s home? I want to see if her lights are on. I can’t stop worrying about her. I remember that time way back when she was suddenly struck with bacterial pneumonia and we almost lost her.”

  “Sure, Mom, but first tell me where she lives.”

  “Turn right up there in about three blocks, then I’ll maneuver you through the side streets.” In order to pass by her house they first had to get in a long procession of cars. Seemed everyone had the same idea. But Gladys’s home was dark and her car wasn’t out front, where she usually parked it in nice weather, so people slowly drove right on by.

  “I can’t believe Gladys wigged out!” The minute Josh and his mom got to the parking lot, closed the doors to the SUV and were safely out of earshot of anyone, Katie’s game face was gone and her fury unleashed. “How dare she fall apart now!”

  “Mom, simmer down. How do you know she didn’t get sick or something?”

  “Because I saw her sitting right there in front of me. I watched the whole meltdown. I just didn’t realize what I was looking at, or that she would get cold enough feet to sneak out!” When the SUV hit the pavement Katie’s anger got the best of her and she gunned the vehicle a little faster than she realized, causing the tires to squeal. Mac, who was standing near the road, put his hands on his hips and shook his head. What was up with that family and their driving? Between the terrible examples set by Josh’s mom and his uncle, the kid didn’t stand a chance.

  Sharon, driving her little Ford Escort, followed Mac in his squad car as he slowly drove the darkened road out of the park. He stopped every once in awhile and flashed his spotlight around the fields and into the ditches. Sharon held her breath with each scan, hoping above all hope he wouldn’t find anything. Once he reached the blacktop, he headed straight toward Gladys’s house since he’d already phoned the hospital and been assured that Gladys was not there. Sharon pulled in Gladys’s driveway right behind Mac, who told her if she didn’t back off he would give her a citation for tailgating. “And move your car out from behind the squad car, Sharon. You cannot block an officer of the law!”

  Gladys’s house was pitch black and by the time Mac and Sharon arrived, everyone in the snaking line of gawkers had made their way home. If the church bells didn’t chime tonight, whatever happened to Gladys, they knew they’d learn about it through the grapevine tomorrow. After Sharon moved her car onto the street, Mac, who’d had time to consider things, repositioned his squad car until his headlights shone right on the house, then he got out and ordered Sharon to get back and stay back and let him do his job.

  He first went to the carport behind her house, where he discovered Gladys’s car. He felt the hood. Still slightly warm, so she must have come straight home. Perhaps she had taken ill. As he walked on around to the front door he swooped his flashlight back and forth to make sure she wasn’t lying in the yard, a thought that made Sharon shudder. He tried the front doorknob. Locked. Then he began knocking and calling her name. Just after he loudly announced he was going to bust in, Gladys came to her door without uttering a sound and yanked it ever so slightly open, which startled Mac, although he tried not to show it. Gladys, her blazer hitched up on her bosom, eyes red and swollen, mascara streaking her face, stood squinting into the blinding bright of Mac’s car headlights.

  “Mayor McKern!” Mac put his hand on her door to push it open but she firmly blocked him. It was then she noticed a few people beginning to gather on her sidewalk. Speaking in muffled sobs through the cracked door, she said, “I herewith concede the election.” Sharon, who had snuck across the lawn when she saw the door open, could not believe the words she found herself quoting on her steno.

  “Mayor McKern,” Mac said, a quiet and steady gentleness in his voice, “we haven’t held the election yet. Are you okay, Gladys?”

  “I herewith . . . concede.”

  “Can you hear me, Mayor McKern?”

  “Why, yes, you are standing right here,” she said, her voice strengthening somewhat as she swiped at the tears on her cheeks, causing Mac to reach for his handkerchief, wondering why he hadn’t done so before.

  Mac turned, saw the people on the sidewalk, noted Sharon writing and motioned her up to his side. In a loud voice, he then ordered everyone to go on home, which they didn’t do, but at least they did back up. “For goodness sakes, Sharon!” he said through his teeth so only she could hear him. “Stop writing! Can’t you see Gladys isn’t . . .” Although he didn’t finish his sentence, it was clear to all three of them he was thinking “in her right mind?”

  “But I’m just . . .” Sharon started to argue, but Mac cut her right off.

  “Disobeying an officer of the law is what you’re doing, Sharon Teller, if you don’t put that pen down and right this minute, young lady.”

  Sharon reluctantly stopped writing while she argued with herself. Young lady? How dare he talk to her that way! She was an educated and trained journalist on duty to report the whole truth of the news. But she also knew she was a citizen in a small town that cared deeply for its own. She turned to look at the growing crowd, Cora Davis now right at the forefront of them. This was news and Sharon needed to report the facts before Cora spread her own version.

  “I have to report to Harold,” she said to Mac, her voice defensive, “and I have a duty to the citizens of Partonville to report the news as it happens.”

  “Tell Harold and anyone else you’d care to tell that Gladys was suddenly taken ill. Sharon Teller, you’ve known Gladys McKern, Mayor McKern, since you were a little girl,” he said, speaking as though Gladys wasn’t standing right there while at the same time trying to remind her of her post, “and you know very well Gladys here isn’t herself. Quote me, okay? And I say she’s taken ill. If there is more to this story tomorrow, you’ll be the first person I’ll call. Well, the second. Right now I’m phoning Caleb,” he said, reaching for his cell phone after Gladys cl
osed and locked the door.

  24

  Before there was even a knock, Colton Craig opened his front door. “Got it?”

  “Here ya go,” the man responded when handing over the digital recorder.

  “Anything I need to know that’s not on the tape?”

  “It might be longer than you think; it might be shorter than you’re expecting. You might not recognize the main player.”

  “How so?”

  “It seems Kathryn Durbin is known as Katie Durbin by everyone but you.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s good and she’s convincing.”

  “I know. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “The tape ends without a debate.”

  “The debate didn’t happen?”

  “Right.”

  “Why?”

  “The current mayor was a no-show.”

  “She didn’t show up at all?”

  “She was there at the beginning but she disappeared during the break between Durbin’s talk and the debate.”

  “You didn’t follow her, find out where she went or why she left?”

  “You paid me to tape, not trail.” With that, he turned and left.

  “Right,” Colton muttered as he closed the door. McKern probably didn’t matter anyway. As far as he could tell, she didn’t wield any real power. The only reason he was curious about how it would go between her and Vitner was to get a feel for the climate of leadership in Partonville aside from Durbin, find out if Sam was gaining any influence. Then again, whether anyone in Partonville was aware of it or not, from what he knew of Kathryn Durbin, she was already their leader and they better hang on to their wallets.

  Dorothy’s phone rang at 6:30 A.M. She nabbed it on the third jingle in hopes it hadn’t awakened Jacob. “Dorothy, it’s Caleb. I’m sorry to wake you,” he said, sounding like he’d been up all night, which he had. “I didn’t know who else to call, Dorothy. People are such busybodies and you’re the one person I know I can trust.”