But maybe it shouldn’t have. Penny wasn’t high-strung—he wouldn’t have been attracted to her if she were. But she wasn’t yet inured to Totally Unfiltered Frank.
Frank took his right hand off the wheel and patted Penny’s knee, as close to an apology as he could go.
She squeezed his hand briefly then twisted her head. “Turn there!” Penny pointed to a green road sign for the Division of Criminal Justice Services Training Center that Frank was about to sail past.
He took the corner on two wheels and they pulled into the parking lot laughing.
Inside the packed auditorium, the Davis family occupied all of Row J, with two empty seats in the middle that clearly awaited Frank and Penny. Earl had finagled two extra graduation tickets from a fellow graduate with a small family. Even so, some of Earl’s cousins had been excluded from the ceremony. But Great Grandma Gert was there, her cane propped against the seat, her blue eyes bright with excitement.
“I never thought I’d live to see this day,” Gert said as the speeches ended and a recording of “Pomp and Circumstance” crackled over the sound system.
“She means she didn’t think she’d live this long, not that she didn’t think Earl could manage to graduate,” Earl’s mother clarified to Frank.
Gert was always predicting her own demise, but the 98-year-old looked remarkably spry. “There he is! There’s Earl!” she shouted as the first row of cadets marched across the stage.
Antonini…Applebee…Bannister…Beyn…Bonkowski…Connor…Curnow… Frank gripped his armrests and leaned forward.
“Earl Davis,” the commander intoned.
Row J erupted in cheers. Uncle Wayne blasted an air horn. Great Grandma Gert slashed the air with her cane. Down on the stage, Earl struggled to maintain a dignified demeanor. But as soon as he shook the commander’s hand and accepted the diploma, a grin split his face. He looked up at them and it seemed he was exerting superhuman self-control to keep himself from waving.
Earl’s mom leaned across her grandmother and grabbed Frank’s hand. “I want to thank you for all you’ve done for Earl. I didn’t think he should do this at first, thought he should train with my brother to install furnaces, but Earl just loves everything he’s learned. He loves working with you.”
Frank felt an uncomfortable thickening in his throat. “Right. Me too.”
When Frank pulled up in front of Earl’s uncle’s house, the sound of bluegrass music echoed through the valley. Every neighbor in a ten-mile radius had been invited to the party, so there was no chance of complaints. Frank helped high-heeled Penny pick her way down the gravel driveway to the big workshop behind the house where all Davis family events were held.
“Look at the stars.” Penny paused to gaze at brilliant canopy above them. “What a beautiful night!” Then she threw her arms around Frank’s neck and kissed him, long and hard.
He responded, forgetting about the likelihood of other arriving guests. When they finally pulled apart, Frank tugged at his jacket fruitlessly. “Geez, Penny, now I have to walk into a crowded room.”
“Oh, no one’s looking at you.” She took his hand and led the way.
Inside, the big open building was packed with friends and relatives. The band played on an improvised stage at the far end of the room, while folding tables covered with bright plastic cloths held enough fried chicken, potato salad, and venison stew to feed the entire county. Earl was in the center of a crowd of well-wishers, so Frank and Penny gravitated to their own best friends, Pastor Bob Rush and Edwin and Lucy Bates.
“How’s business?” Bob was asking Edwin and Lucy when Frank and Penny showed up.
“No guests at all,” Edwin complained. “But I’ve started a cooking class and I have six people signed up for that.”
“March and April are terribly slow,” Lucy complained. “We’d close the inn and go on vacation except that Olivia has school.”
Olivia tossed her hair. “I could skip a month of school and still pass sixth grade. My classes are super easy.”
Lucy and Edwin’s foster daughter seemed to have shot up another three inches since Frank had seen her just a few weeks ago. She was straddling that awkward line between gangly and willowy, and Frank knew enough not to comment on her height. He remembered the days when Caroline towered over all the middle school boys and moaned about being what she termed “freakishly tall.” Now, at twenty-eight, his daughter was a perfectly proportioned five-seven.
“I love that shirt, Olivia,” Penny said. “You look so pretty in green.”
Olivia barely lifted her head to acknowledge the compliment. “Thanks.”
The Stompers chose that moment to launch into their biggest hit, “There’s a Bear in my Trash (and he better git gone).” Frank’s eyes lit up. “Hey, Olivia—they’re playing our song! Wanna dance?” He held out his hand. The last time he’d been to a party where the Stompers played, Olivia had worn him out dancing the two-step.
Olivia shot him a glance that truly redefined the expression “if looks could kill.” Then she spoke to Lucy. “Can we please go? This is so boring.”
“Olivia, Frank asked you a question. You’re being very rude,” Lucy scolded. She took a breath to say more, but Olivia bolted away.
“Looks like you’re stuck dancing with me, dear,” Penny said as they watched Olivia plop into a folding chair and pull a paperback from her jacket pocket.
Lucy ran her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry, Frank. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Yesterday she was all excited about coming to the party.”
Frank laughed. “I’ve been turned down by plenty of girls in my time. I’ll survive.”
“Well, there’s no excuse for being rude,” Lucy said. “I’m going to make her come back her and apologize.”
Frank reached for her arm before she took second step. “Relax, Lucy. Pick your battles. This one is not worth having.”
Edwin shook his head. “One day, she’s playing with Legos, the next day, she’s demanding pierced ears and eye shadow. Then she’s back to Legos and wanting to be tucked in at night. My head is spinning.”
“Welcome to the difficult ‘tween years. It’ll get worse before it gets better, believe me.”
Edwin put his arm around Lucy. “We’ve figured out this parenting thing pretty well so far, right, Mama?”
Lucy’s stern expression softened. “Just when I figure out one stage, we’re on to the next. There’s never a dull moment with that girl.” She looked across to where Olivia sat, twirling a strand of her long brown hair as she read. “I can’t even remember what life was like before we got Olivia.”
The party rocked on. Frank joined in the fifty-person contra dance, and by the time it was finished, he saw that Olivia had disappeared from her reading nook. Edwin wasn’t much of a dancer, so they had probably all gone home. Penny was dancing with Earl’s uncle, leaving Frank to peruse the dessert buffet, when Trudy Massinay came up.
“Hey, Trudy—ready for a treat? That chocolate cake is not as good as it looks, but the banana cream pie will knock your socks off.”
“Thanks for the advice. I shouldn’t be eating any of it, but maybe I’ll try one of these blondies.” The sturdy social worker took a bar from an overloaded plate and nibbled around the edges.
“How’s Mrs. Kepler adjusting to assisted living?” Frank had found the old woman wandering on a road two miles from her house and had called Trudy in to get her assistance.
“Hmm? Oh, pretty good.” Trudy glanced up from her dessert plate. “She misses her cat, but she likes the food and the bingo.” Her gaze returned to the plate and she fell silent.
Standing there like a post, Frank wished Penny would return from the dance floor. He’d never before had such a hard time making conversation with Trudy.
“Frank, I don’t want to ruin the party for you, but there’s something you need to know and I’d rather tell you in person.” The sentence popped out of her in a rush.
He looked at her worried face
and paused with a plastic forkful of pie halfway to his mouth.
“Anita Veech has been released from prison.”
The fork tipped and the pie fell with a splat.
“What? She got fifteen years. She had to serve at least seventy percent of her sentence. She’s not supposed to be out until—“ He attempted to do the math in his head, but he’d done it many times before. Not until Olivia was over eighteen. Not until she was an adult. That’s what he’d promised Edwin and Lucy.
“I know it’s unexpected. But they’ve started this program to release nonviolent drug offenders early. Part of the movement to end mass incarceration and shrink the prison population. Anita applied and was approved. Apparently, she’s been an exemplary prisoner.”
“Well, she wasn’t an exemplary mother.”
A partygoer angling for the brownies frowned at Frank’s sharp tone.
He lowered his voice and steered Trudy away from the buffet. “The court won’t return Olivia to Anita, will they? Please tell me you won’t let that happen.”
“If she wants to regain custody, there will be a hearing in Family Court. Anita will have to show that she can provide a home for Olivia.”
“A home! That tarpaper shack in the woods that they were living in before Anita was arrested doesn’t qualify as a home, does it?”
Trudy pursed her lips. “Look, Frank—just because Anita won’t be able to offer her daughter an antiques-filled Victorian doesn’t mean that the court will let her stay with Edwin and Lucy. The court always favors the biological parent unless there are extraordinary circumstances. As long as Anita can offer a safe living environment, however modest, she may regain custody. And Anita was never violent.”
Frank hurled the remains of his pie in the trash. “There’s more than one way to abuse a child, Trudy. You know that. Anita neglected Olivia, physically and emotionally. That poor kid subsisted on junk food. Her teeth, her hair…she was skin and bones,” Frank sputtered. “She couldn’t focus in school and the other kids made fun of her. Now look at her. She’s beautiful, and happy, and healthy and getting straight As. She’s smart and creative, and Lucy and Edwin encourage all her interests.” He grabbed Trudy’s arm. “Don’t tell me you’re going to take Olivia away from all that.”
Trudy sighed. “You don’t have to tell me what a great job the Bateses have done as foster parents, Frank. I’m well aware. But severing the biological parental relationship is a huge responsibility. The State doesn’t undertake it lightly.”
“When is Anita getting out? Have you told Edwin and Lucy yet?”
“She’ll be released next Wednesday. I’ll inform them on Monday. But Frank, I need your support on this. That’s why I’m telling you now. I want you to vent to me, not to Edwin and Lucy. Don’t make a bad situation worse.”
“But you said, ‘if she wants to regain custody.’ Do you know if Anita really does want Olivia back? Honestly, Anita didn’t seem too cut up about being separated from her daughter when she was arrested.”
Trudy shrugged. “I can’t predict. It’s true Anita had a very flat affect when I worked with her. But that might be a sign that she also was traumatized by her living situation.”
Frank kicked the trashcan at the end of the buffet table. “Anita was an adult. She didn’t have to live like that. She could have left with Olivia.”
“And who raised Anita? A brutal, ignorant, paranoid old man. Is it any wonder she wasn’t prepared to be a good mother?”
Frank felt a surge of anger toward Trudy, a woman he considered a friend. “I’m tired of these excuses. Where does it end? Anita should be held accountable for what she did to Olivia when she was little.”
“Ah, Frank—life is not so simple. If it were easy for people to make good decisions, there would be no need for social workers like me.”
To continue reading, buy False Cast now.
About the Author
S.W. Hubbard’s most recent full-length novel is This Bitter Treasure, the sequel to Another Man’s Treasure, and Treasure of Darkness, all of which take place in a fictional town in New Jersey much like the one where she lives. She is also is the author of three mystery novels set in the Adirondack Mountains: Take the Bait, The Lure, and Blood Knot. Her short stories have appeared in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine and the Mystery Writers of America anthologies Crimes by Moonlight and The Mystery Box. She lives in Morristown, NJ, where she teaches creative writing to enthusiastic teens and adults, and expository writing to reluctant college freshmen. Read the first chapters of all her books at http://www.swhubbard.net.
Dead Drift: three small town murder mysteries (Frank Bennett Adirondack Mountain Mystery Series Book 4) Page 10
