by Jaime Maddox
Billy didn’t know the man’s name or the name of the man in the Cadillac who was contacted to sell the Parkers’ art collection. He did know exactly where his body was, though—buried atop Nancy Stewart, who had died in July of 1972. Using missing-persons’ reports from that era, the police were easily able to identify the two men and exhumed the body of the second from the double grave.
His father had never told him who eventually took the pieces of art off his hands; he only knew the elder Bill Burns was very disappointed with the hundred thousand dollars he received in trade. They had pulled over a million dollars in cash out of the house, with little difficulty. They had nearly drowned hauling out that damn statue, and in the end they profited very little from it.
Finding the watch in the box of money atop Sandy’s dresser had been an omen, according to Billy. That watch, the symbol of his grandfather’s heroism, was a sign that the Burns family was meant to have all the Parker money.
Although Danny couldn’t have known it at the time, Billy Burns would never have been able to identify his father as the buyer of the stolen art. Danny’s confession to Sandy had implicated him, though. Danny had formed his own conclusions and followed his conscience, and for that Sandy was grateful. Knowing that Agnes didn’t destroy the treasures of her family meant more to Sandy than she ever could have guessed. The thought of recovering her grandmother’s Norman Rockwell, of hanging the painting in her own dining room, filled her with a tremendous peace.
The other pieces of artwork weren’t really that important to her. They were more historically significant than of personal interest. It was the Rockwell that she missed. So when Danny surprised her still further by telling her of a plan he’d devised, Sandy listened closely, pleased at what she heard.
As a history major, Danny had a great appreciation for his family’s contribution to the growth of the region and the country. The company archives held thousands of documents relating not just to the history of the Parker Coal Company, but to the history of the region and the country. Deeds and contracts and maps documented the Wyoming Valley’s growth over a two-hundred-year period. The company had artifacts as well. Shelf upon shelf held the tools of the old miners—helmets and lanterns, picks and shovels, lunch pails and blasting caps. Samples of coal of different grades were kept, from peat and bituminous to anthracite and graphite. Telegrams from governors, senators, and presidents to the heads of the company hung on walls in handsome antique frames. Photographs of the common people who lived here, as well as the politicians and business moguls who led them, were filed in boxes at the Parker Companies’ headquarters.
The archives held a treasure, hidden away in the building in Plymouth where no one would ever get to appreciate it. Danny wanted to change that. If Sandy would agree, items from the archives and any pieces of the stolen art she chose to donate would be used to create an exhibit at King’s College to celebrate the rich history of the region and of the Parker family. The college was founded to educate the children of coal miners. The altar in the school chapel was crafted from a two-ton piece of coal. And while coal miners no longer toiled in the Wyoming Valley, King’s continued to provide an outstanding education to the descendants of the men who’d worked and died in the mines generations ago. The school was the perfect place to display such a collection.
As she sat next to him that day, Sandy knew she loved Danny’s idea. Yet she was still reeling over the events of the days and weeks before. She told him she needed some time to think about his proposal, and he agreed that her request was understandable.
Already in shock, Sandy was in no way prepared for the next segment of her conversation with Danny.
“I need to ask you something, and I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I can’t find enough information to prove my suspicions.” Sandy watched him closely. He’d seemed nervous before telling her about the art. Now that emotion seemed to be replaced by another—sadness, perhaps? Frustration? Letting go of a tremendous breath, Danny asked her a question. “Did you, or perhaps your grandparents, ever lease any land to my grandfather for the Anthracite Landfill?”
A bell rang in Sandy’s brain and she was suddenly more alert. A landfill! When she’d met Danny for the first time, he’d informed her that the landfill was going strong. The news didn’t register at the time, but in the back of her mind she’d asked—what landfill? The Parkers owned coal mines and businesses related to destruction and construction, and a landfill seemed like a logical business to complement those others, but no landfill had been in operation when she lived on Canal Street.
“No,” she answered simply, but she watched him, eager to hear what he would say next.
Danny nodded. “And to your knowledge, your grandfather never sold any land to his brother?”
Sandy still searched his face, and all she saw was the sadness in his eyes. “He never mentioned any land to me, so it’s possible. Maybe it was sold before I was born, or when I was very young? And now I have a question for you. After what we’ve been through, I’m almost afraid to ask, but why do you want to know?”
Danny reached into his duffel bag, retrieved the paper he’d copied at the office, and handed it to her. It documented the transfer of land from Cowboy to his son David. “First, let me say I’ve been trying to verify this, but I’m not a hundred percent certain what’s going on. There may be some paperwork somewhere that explains all of this, and I honestly hope there is.”
As Sandy looked at the paper he’d given her, he spoke again. “This land is still registered to your grandfather, and the Parker Companies have been paying the taxes on it since the 1920s.” Danny sighed again. “It seems we’ve been using your land, Sandy, without your knowledge or approval. In the days after Agnes, my great-grandfather opened a landfill on this piece of land. Over the years that place has brought in more than a hundred million dollars in revenue to the family, and we don’t even own the land. You own it. You’ve never been paid a cent.”
Sandy thought back to the meeting Dale had with her grandmother after Agnes, wanting to buy her shares of company stock and all her land. He was trying to cover his tracks then, only Nellie wouldn’t cooperate.
After confirming this swindle with Sandy, Danny proposed he broker a deal between her and his family that would compensate her for her losses while allowing the company to maintain solvency. He informed her in plain terms that any litigation she engaged in would break the family business. There were simply too many shareholders and not enough income to go around. They were by no means poor, but the money made in the days of coal mining was no more. The only Parker with enough assets to survive a lawsuit was Sandy.
After speaking with his father, who developed chest pains and subsequently underwent a stress test after learning what Sandy knew, they were meeting today to finalize the agreement she and Danny had forged over their smart phones.
She was cordial to the man who’d kept her family heirloom from her, controlling her anger because she knew she wouldn’t accomplish anything by arguing with him. Men like Dan, who thought they could break all the rules and never get caught, were all the same. Just like with the crooks she’d dealt with on Wall Street, Sandy didn’t bother trying to convince him of his crimes. It wasn’t up to her.
She had wanted to be civil for Danny’s benefit as well. She adored this young man, and the deeds of his father shouldn’t have come back to haunt him. Yet he’d nearly been shot and gone through tremendous personal turmoil to make his confession to Sandy, and she appreciated his effort. She wouldn’t embarrass herself or stress him further by arguing with his father.
She’d agreed to donate most of Cowboy’s art to King’s, with the exception of the Annie Oakley print, which she kept for herself. Playing with Cowboy’s guns in her grandfather’s study, she’d pretended to be the great gunslinger, and the print brought back fond memories. A few paintings would be sold to generate cash to maintain the museum. As for the Rockwell—it brought Sandy to tears, and she was overjoyed to see it
again. She would keep that piece as well, and it would always hang over her dining-room table, as it had at Nellie’s on Canal Street.
A million dollars annually in leasing fees would allow the Parkers to continue to operate the landfill and still compensate Sandy for what she’d lost in earnings. It was only a fraction of what she was owed, but to take any more would have put the company in financial jeopardy, and no good would come of that. Thanks to her grandfather’s financial investments, and her own hard work and financial planning, she was a wealthy woman. She had no interest in taking over the Parker Companies. The million dollars was a nice bonus for her, though, and when Danny offered it as a part of her “settlement” with the family, she’d agreed.
Sandy had made only one other request, and a few minutes into the meeting, the elder Dan in the room handed it to her. It was a right-hand, stem-wound Parker Coal Company watch, with a stainless-steel face. Forty-eight of them had been given out to employees such as Bill Burns, heroes who had made the company great.
This watch was a true sacrifice for Dan, and Sandy understood that. Split between all the shareholders, the lease fee paid to her wouldn’t cost him very much. Cowboy’s art had never been his to begin with. The watch, though, was priceless. But as much as she despised her cousin, Sandy didn’t ask for it to punish him. She just thought someone else would appreciate it far more than anyone in the family ever could.
After signing where indicated, Sandy hugged Danny. His negotiating skills had brought them here, had brought closure to her family, and had brought back her grandmother’s painting. Since he was going back to New York for his final year at NYU, she knew as they hugged that she’d be seeing him again soon.
Their meeting was over in twenty minutes. There was no small talk, just business, and since she and Danny had ironed out the details beforehand, the meeting was actually a formality. Still, it felt great to conclude it.
A half hour later, Sandy was back in West Nanticoke. Robbie Burns appeared nervous when he arrived at Stookey’s for his meeting with her. Considering what had happened the last time they were together, she couldn’t blame him. She understood the police had held him overnight before deciding he was harmless, but they’d ransacked his home and questioned his friends. His brother was in jail. It had been a tough week for Robbie, and Sandy was sorry for her part in his anguish.
As she watched him, it occurred to her that life had not been fair to Robbie Burns but that he had still turned out to be a good man in spite of life’s best efforts. He broke into tears when she gave him the watch. “It’s not the same,” she said apologetically, her own eyes brimming with tears, “but who knows? It may actually be the one your grandfather owned.”
He’d surrendered his treasured watch to the state police, and they’d mailed it to Sandy. It was in her safe at home at the moment, out of harm’s way. “There’s something I have to tell you,” Robbie confessed when he regained his composure.
“Do I want to know?” She was teasing him and laughed.
“I think you do. Sandy,” he paused, staring at her, “Jeannie Bennett isn’t buried at Riverview.”
Jeannie was still a hard subject for her, and the sudden change in topic threw her. Swallowing tears that threatened to erupt, Sandy nodded. “I know,” she said simply, staring into the water she was swirling in its plastic glass.
“You do?”
“Jane Bennett told me.”
“She did?”
Noting the total surprise in his voice, Sandy watched him closely. “Yes, she did. Why do you ask?”
“If she planned on telling you herself, then why on earth did she pay me five thousand dollars not to tell you?”
Sandy’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me! She paid you five grand? Why?”
Robbie told Sandy about the weekly payments, and she simply shook her head. It was almost too bizarre to believe. But if Robbie had come clean on everything else, why would he lie about this? And what the hell was up with Jane Bennett? Sandy thought about it for a moment, then dismissed the thought. A few weeks earlier, she might have pressed the matter further. But after all she’d been through since first coming home, she was too tired to care. Whatever Jane was hiding was none of her concern.
Chapter Nineteen
You Can Pick Your Friends
An ice-cream cone seemed to be just the comfort food Sandy needed to soothe her after the morning of emotional meetings. She’d come out of her efforts richer by one poster, one painting, and one million a year for life, but she didn’t feel she’d won anything. It saddened her to know that her grandfather’s family had been so devious, and righting the wrongs hadn’t lessened that burden. She hoped Robbie would be okay. He was an innocent victim, too.
Sitting at the picnic table at Maureen’s, the local ice-cream stand, she looked around at the homes nearby. She couldn’t help but feel sad as she wondered what had become of all the people who’d lived in them. They had been her friends and neighbors, and she had left them at their darkest hour, running off to hide from her sorrows. A good friend, and a good neighbor, would have come back. Sandy was young and strong in 1972, and there was much she could have done to help these people in their recovery. Suddenly ashamed of the way she’d behaved, she glanced up at the mountain in front of her, the one she’d climbed with Jeannie and her friend Linda Grabowski, who’d gotten married just before Agnes. Linda was planning to move up to the Heights after her wedding. Was she still living there? Was she even still alive?
Finishing her cone, Sandy decided to find out.
She’d never driven to the Heights, and she wasn’t sure how to get where she was going. Paths and stairs of stone set into the mountain had once led to Jimmy Anderson’s land at the top, and Sandy had to find the dilapidated stairs to get her bearings. She drove slowly, watching for familiar landmarks, and turned and turned yet again until she came upon a one-lane road that seemed to be in the general direction she’d hoped to go. There was no street sign, and a bank of mailboxes had house numbers but no names. She didn’t know if she was in the right place, and even when she came upon a cluster of homes, she wasn’t sure. If this was Jimmy’s house, it had certainly changed over the years.
In a terrace dug into the mountainside, a dozen cars were parked side by side. Below the road, four houses, cottages really, were arranged in a semicircle. At the rear of the house closest to her, a party seemed to be in full swing. Children were swimming in a beautifully landscaped pool, while the adults sat beneath the shade of huge umbrellas, watching them. A man and a woman were cooking at a grill, and off in the distance a group was gathered at a horseshoe pit.
This quiet corner of the universe was too remote for anyone to discover by accident, and no doubt every car driving on their road was quickly noticed. Indeed, just about everyone turned to assess the stranger who’d disturbed their idyllic afternoon. She seriously considered just turning around and driving back home, but before she’d made up her mind to stay or go, one of the women had thrown on a cover-up and was walking in her direction.
She parked the car in the first available space and hopped out. As she walked she marveled at the landscaping that had made this mountainside so beautiful. Retaining walls scattered on the hillside created flattened areas where the horseshoes were tossed or a basketball could be dribbled, and the pool was set in the bottom terrace to the rear of the very last house. Plants covered every inch of space on the hillside. Towering pines bordered all edges of the property, insulating it from the world.
Descending a staircase of stone set into the hillside, Sandy was able to more closely survey the woman approaching her. Forty years and ten pounds hadn’t changed Linda’s face a bit, and even though huge Jackie Onassis sunglasses concealing the woman’s big green eyes, Sandy knew it was her old friend. They met at a landing halfway down, Linda offering a cautious smile to this presumed stranger. Not wanting to raise Linda’s concerns, Sandy introduced herself immediately.
A hand flew to Linda’s mou
th as she recognized her. A smile quickly replaced the shocked expression, and then Linda opened her arms in a welcoming embrace. They hugged for a long moment, exchanging pleasantries, until Linda pulled back. “I read about your grandmother in the paper. I couldn’t find an address to send a card. I’m sorry. She was a great woman.”
“We should all be so lucky as Nellie,” Sandy said in acceptance of Linda’s condolence.
Nodding, Linda took Sandy’s hand and pulled her toward the pool. “What can I get you? I don’t drink Genny anymore, but we have plenty of other beer.”
Sandy laughed as she remembered the Genesee Beer most of her friends had preferred back then, mostly due to its affordability. “Anything cold will do. It’s getting to be a scorcher. And it’s legal now!”
Linda laughed. “Well, come with me and join us. We’re having a pool party. You remember my kid sister, Lisa, don’t you? It’s her birthday, so the whole family’s over for a cookout.”
Sandy stopped, uncertain. She didn’t want to intrude and told Linda so.
“Don’t be silly. The more the merrier. Besides, everyone will be glad to see you after all these years.”
They’d reached the first umbrella where five women sat and reclined on patio furniture, all of them talking and laughing and seeming to be having a good time. A young boy was reclining in a chair reading a book. In the pool at least a dozen children of various ages were splashing and having an even better time. A few yards away, near the rear of the house, a brick fire pit was burning, and Sandy could smell burgers cooking. The man and the woman tending the grill glanced over and waved at Sandy before turning back to their work.
“Annette, do you remember Sandy Parker from Canal Street?”
Annette Rosen’s jaw dropped and she stood to offer Sandy a hug. Sandy marveled that Annette hadn’t changed much either over the years. Half Italian, she’d inherited her classic beauty from her mother and was still striking. “Oh, my God, of course I do. Sandy introduced me to Chaz.”
