BY MORNING, Kate had come up with one way of finding out more about the Maddock family. After she’d spent extra time soaking up passages from Proverbs—specifically the ones about patience—Kate drove to the Copper Mill Elementary School. Arletta Walner, the school principal, would surely know the children and their mother.
Kate parked in a spot on the street in front of the kindergarten-through-eighth-grade school, which must have been in session because no students were loitering in the playground adjacent to the two-story brick-and-stucco building. An oversized cartoon of the school’s mascot—a miner carrying a pickax and shovel—was painted on the school’s wall that faced the playground. Below the painting was the school motto: We dig education.
A note on the front gate indicated that visitors should check in at the office.
Kate found Arletta behind the counter outside the principal’s office talking with the school secretary. A buxom, gray-haired woman in her sixties, Arletta was the type of educator who could provide a soft shoulder for a student to cry on or be a stern disciplinarian, depending on the circumstances.
She looked up and smiled as Kate opened the door. “Be right with you.”
“No rush.”
Kate studied the notices on the counter—a PTSA meeting scheduled for the following week, a science fair happening in early May, and a lunch-hour band concert for Grandparents’ Day. She smiled, remembering her stint on the PTSA board while her children were in school. How she had managed to fit in everything while working as an executive assistant in a San Antonio accounting firm was beyond her.
Arletta joined Kate at the counter. “Sorry to keep you waiting. The school superintendent is always after us for more paperwork, more forms. It’s as if the administration doesn’t think we have anything else to do—like teach the kids reading and ’rithmetic.” She said the words with a smile, but Kate guessed they were also heartfelt.
“If you’re busy—”
“No, no. I just like to complain. What can I do for you?”
Kate glanced around. “Could we talk in your office?”
“Of course.” Immediately turning serious, the principal gestured for Kate to follow her.
Stacks of files were piled on the corners of Arletta’s desk, and binders filled the bookcase below the window that looked out onto the playground. Kate sat in one of the two chairs in front of her desk.
“I hope you’re not having a problem with one of our students,” Arletta began.
“No, not at all. But I am concerned about the Maddock children.” Kate explained how Megan had appeared in her yard looking for a job and her impression of the family.
Arletta listened carefully, all the time idly twisting a yellow pencil through her fingers.
“The Maddocks aren’t well-off,” she said when Kate finished talking. “But the children are well behaved. Megan’s a sweet girl and very artistic.”
“Yes, she told me she’d won an award.”
Arletta nodded. “Gwen is a good student too. Becker’s a bit of a problem, though. He’s dyslexic, so reading is difficult for him. There’s an aide in his class who helps out half days, but he really ought to be in a special program. I’m sure he gets frustrated and sometimes acts out. Maybe in a larger school system he’d do better.” She shrugged. “But then, the larger school districts have their own problems.”
“What do you know about their mother?”
The principal thought for a moment. “I met Glynis last fall at our open house. She seemed nice enough. Concerned about her kids, particularly Becker.”
“What do you know about the children’s father?”
“He wasn’t at the open house that I know of. But I did see Glynis and a man in the Mercantile sometime before Christmas. I assumed he was the father.”
Kate wasn’t too sure how much she should reveal about the father’s imprisonment. But Arletta seemed invested in the children as much or more than Kate was, so she decided it was worth the risk.
“Beck told me his father was in prison for killing someone.”
That seemed to surprise Arletta. “Let me get their records.” She left the room, and in a few minutes returned with several file folders.
Sitting back down at her desk, she flipped through the folders. “From these records, it looks like Glynis is a single mother and divorced. No father is listed, which usually means a custody dispute.” She looked up from the file. “In this case, Mrs. Maddock might have been reluctant to name a man who’s in prison for murder. The family moved to the district three years ago.”
“Then the man you saw her with may have been a boyfriend,” Kate thought out loud.
“Maybe. I don’t keep track of the social lives of our parents.”
Understandably, Kate thought. But the children hadn’t mentioned anything about an adult male living with them. Or how long ago their father had been sent to prison. Perhaps Glynis was simply involved in a casual dating relationship. But what if it was something else entirely?
“Have you heard anything about Glynis being ill?” Kate asked.
“No, not at all. I could ask the children’s teachers. They might know.”
“I’m just concerned that the children are being neglected.”
Arletta closed the files on her desk. “In this county, it’s sometimes hard to know whether the problem is neglect or good old-fashioned poverty. My impression of Glynis Maddock was that she means well but lacks the resources she’d like to have.”
“I can understand that.” Kate wasn’t totally satisfied. She suspected that something other than poverty might be going on in the Maddock household. Perhaps something related to Glynis’ boyfriend, whom the children hadn’t acknowledged?
She’d have to quiz Megan when she showed up that afternoon to help in the garden.
Chapter Five
Before going home, Kate stopped in at the Mercantile to pick up skim milk for Paul’s morning cereal and some goat cheese that she liked to crumble in spinach salads along with dried cranberries and a low-fat berry dressing.
A bell tinkled above the door as she pushed her way inside the store. There was something very small-town and cozy about the Mercantile, with its narrow aisles and shelves stacked well above her head. Heaven help whoever was in the store if Tennessee had a major earthquake.
The refrigerated dairy section was at the back of the store. When Kate reached that aisle, she noted the storeroom door to the alley was standing open. Sam Gorman was taking one swipe after another with a big push broom and muttering to himself as he worked.
“If I ever catch the kids who are doing this, I’m going to personally tan their hides. Then I’ll string ’em up by the thumbs, by golly!”
Raising her eyebrows, Kate couldn’t recall seeing Sam this worked up before. It wasn’t his usual style.
She peered out the back door. “What’s wrong, Sam?”
He started, then leaned on his broom. “Sorry you overheard me ranting and raving. I’m just so tired of...” His voice trailed off as he looked up and down the alley on either side of the olive green trash bin. “This is the second time in less than a week that some kids have decided to ransack the Dumpster back here. They leave stuff strewn from here to the corner, and I’ve gotta clean up the mess.”
“Paul mentioned you thought teenagers were rummaging in the Dumpster.” Bits of paper had blown down the alley, and soggy cardboard looked as if it had been shredded. The bin itself was dented in places and had deep scratches on it, some of them fairly new. “How can you be sure they’re teenagers?”
“Who else gets into this kind of mischief just for the fun of it? There’s never anything worth having in there. It’s mostly spoiled produce, lunch meat that’s gone bad, and cereal packages that’ve been ripped open, plus empty crates and boxes I can’t recycle.”
“Maybe someone’s looking for aluminum cans to recycle and make a little money.”
“Well, they aren’t going to find any cans in there. I keep those inside and
turn ’em in myself when I get enough to make it worth the trip.”
But a teenager who needed money might not know that. Or a youngster with hungry siblings. Someone desperate like Megan Maddock.
That tightened a thread of anxiety in Kate.
“Least they could do is clean up their own mess,” Sam added.
“By any chance, do you know Glynis Maddock?” she asked.
He raked his fingers through his thick, brown hair. “Yeah, she shops here. I don’t know her well, just to see her. She never talks much.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
He had to think for a moment. “I’m not sure. Of course, I’m not here every day, all day. She could’ve come in while I was off somewhere.”
Off fishing if he had the chance, Kate suspected. “Have you seen her in the past couple of weeks?”
“Not that I can recall. She usually comes in around the first of the month to stock up, but it’s been maybe six weeks or more since I’ve seen her.” Using a dustpan, he scooped some debris he’d swept up and tossed it into the Dumpster. “Her older girl came in early last week looking for a job. Couldn’t hire her, though. She’s too young. Skinny little thing. She could sure use some meat on her bones.”
“That’s Megan. She’s been helping me in my garden. I’m paying her a little bit. I think she’s trying to help out her family.”
“She seems like a good kid.” He nodded as if to himself. “She came in Thursday or Friday last week and bought milk and bread, and a giant jar of peanut butter.”
“The staff of life for some kids.”
“For some grown men too.” He gave her a wry smile. “The doc wants me to cut back on fatty foods like peanut butter. That’s what I call a real sacrifice.”
“It’ll be worth it if you can stay healthy. And it doesn’t do your heart any good to get so worked up over the mess someone made back here.”
“Easier said than done, Kate. If these vandals hit me again, I’m gonna have to call in the sheriff.”
She smiled, understanding his frustration. But maybe talking with her for a few minutes had helped reduce his anger.
On the other hand, the conversation had only managed to give Kate something more to worry about. Glynis Maddock hadn’t been seen at the Mercantile for weeks, and her children were doing the shopping for her.
Could Megan be so desperate for money, or maybe food scraps, that she would Dumpster-dive to get a meal for herself and her siblings?
After Kate paid for the items she needed, she carried the groceries as far as her car, putting the bags in the trunk. Then she decided she’d take a minute to talk with Steve Smith at the gift shop on the southwest side of the Town Green. She wanted to ask about consigning a few stained-glass pieces for the Old Timer’s Day craft booth.
Located in an old Victorian brick building, Smith Street Gifts had been founded by Steve’s grandparents. Steve tried to feature local artists, and she was more than pleased to see a couple of her own stained-glass sun catchers featured in the shop’s front window alongside Jessie Kilgore’s lovely handmade blue-and-white pottery.
When Kate entered the store, she found Steve restocking greeting cards in a round display boutique. Shelves along the wall and glass cases featured everything from quality jewelry to souvenirs for children stamped with the town’s name on them.
“Hello, Kate.” Steve set the remaining cards aside and came toward the front of the store to greet her. “I’m glad you dropped by. I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
“I’ve got a check for you. I’ve sold a couple of your hangings, and I’m hoping you can bring me some more of your work.”
She felt a surge of pride. It was always a blessing to know that people had spent their hard-earned money to buy what she had created with her own two hands.
“I’m almost finished with a sunflower sun catcher.” She’d sold a similar piece via her Web site recently and had decided to do a second one. “I can bring that in, maybe by the end of the week. And I’ve been toying with an idea for another lamp.” Her gardening activities had been keeping her away from her stained-glass projects, but her creative mind was always buzzing with design ideas.
“Great. Let me get you that check.”
She followed him toward his office in the back of the shop. A single man in his thirties, Steve had a quiet demeanor, and he was always neatly dressed in slacks and a white shirt with a tie when he was working at the store. She wondered that some local girl hadn’t snapped him up yet. He’d make a good husband.
He handed her the check, and she grinned.
“I’m not quite ready to retire to the Caribbean, but it’s a beginning.” She tucked the check in her handbag. She’d use some of the money to buy more supplies for her studio, and the rest she’d donate to the Faith Freezer Program.
“I’m going to want some extra pieces for the craft booth at Old Timer’s Day too.”
“That’s what I came in to ask you. Stained glass isn’t exactly a traditional Appalachian craft.”
He waved off her comment. “I’ve got a couple of ladies bringing quilts and an outfit that makes spin toys like old-fashioned yo-yos and dried-apple people. The more the merrier, I always say.”
“Okay, I’ll have to get busy then.” Thinking about the additional supplies she’d have to order online, she started for the door, then stopped abruptly. “What about cornhusk dolls?”
“I didn’t know you made those.”
“I don’t. But I know a young lady who’s very talented artistically. She can do a lot with cornhusks, not only traditional dolls.”
“Terrific. Tell her to drop by with some samples. If they’re decent, they’ll make a good addition for the booth at Old Timer’s Day.”
“She could sure use the money.”
The corners of his hazel eyes crinkled with a smile. “I’ve never met an artist who couldn’t use a few more dollars.”
Shortly after three o’clock, Megan showed up in Kate’s backyard with the empty casserole dish. Several strands of stringy blonde hair had come lose from her ponytail and trailed down past her shoulders.
“You finished the casserole already?” Kate removed her gardening gloves and took the dish that had been carefully washed.
“Beck ate the last of it this morning.”
“For breakfast?”
The young girl shrugged. “He’s like a garbage disposal. He’ll eat anything.”
And everything, Kate imagined. “That’s what growing boys do.” During his teen years, her son, Andrew, had been an eating machine.
“One time Beck ate a whole gallon of ice cream all on his own. Ma was really upset about that.”
“Understandably. Did your mother enjoy the casserole?”
“Uh, yeah. Ma says thanks.”
“I hope she’s feeling better today.”
“Same as always, I guess.”
“What does the doctor say about her getting better?”
Shrugging, Megan’s gaze darted toward the street as if she was about to bolt.
The girl’s hesitancy, and Glynis’ apparent invisibility of late, was becoming more and more troubling. Still, Kate didn’t want to drive Megan away by asking too many questions.
Kate had half expected that Gwen and Beck would come with Megan today. Apparently they’d gone home on the school bus. To take care of their mother? Or were they on their own at home?
“I’ve started on the next flower bed, the little one on the east side of the house,” Kate said. “More weeds, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind pullin’ ’em.” Picking up a claw rake and weeding knife, the girl went right to work.
Kate knelt a few feet from Megan and resumed her weed pulling. “I thought I’d go to the nursery again tomorrow. I want to pick up some phlox and asters to put in the flower bed in the back and get some Texas bluebonnets for this sunny spot.”
“Asters are pretty, but I’ve
never seen any bluebonnets.”
“They grow wild where I grew up in Texas.”
Megan halted her attack on the weeds and sat back on her heels. “You came here from Texas?”
“I did. I was born and raised there.”
The girl seemed to take a minute to process that news. “That’s where the Alamo is, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is. Every youngster in Texas has to learn about the Alamo in their history classes.”
“I bet Beck would like to go there sometime. He’s crazy about cowboys ’n stuff.”
“Well, maybe he will go to Texas someday. Where were you and your brother and sister born?”
Megan bent over her work again. “We came from Knoxville.”
“Were your parents raised there?” Kate wondered if there were family members who could help out while the Maddocks were having hard times.
“I dunno.” She resolutely averted her gaze.
This youngster was the most closed-mouthed girl Kate had ever met. Usually children would talk nonstop once they felt at ease with Kate. Megan didn’t. She had secrets to keep, and Kate had the unsettling feeling that Megan had a good reason for keeping her own counsel.
They worked in silence for a while, with only a birdsong and the sound of an occasional passing car to interrupt the quiet afternoon.
“I stopped by Smith Street Gifts this morning,” Kate finally said. “Have you been in there?”
“Sure. A few times. Just to look. I’ve never bought anything though.”
“Steve Smith’s the owner. He carries some of the stained-glass pieces I make on consignment.”
Megan slanted a curious look in Kate’s direction.
“It’s just a hobby, really, but I enjoy making lamps and sun catchers,” Kate admitted. “Steve’s in charge of a craft booth for Old Timer’s Day and is looking for craftspeople to feature their handiwork, for sale to the public. I was so impressed with the cornhusk dolls you made that I told him about you. He’s interested in seeing some of your samples.”
For the Least of These Page 4
