I thanked her, and Claudia and I headed off.
"You must think I'm nuts," Claudia said after we'd passed a few more booths in silence. "I just feel like buying too much is jinxing it."
I shook my head. "Well, you are nuts in general, but that makes sense to me. I can throw out the card if you want."
"No, I do like that thing." She nudged me, a small smile growing. "If only I knew someone with the money to buy it."
"Yeah, if only."
We laughed, and she said, "So, John fell for the 'Kerr is paying for me so I'm paying for you' thing? It's kind of goofy."
I shrugged. "The thing with him is that he needs to be able to justify it. That gives him a way to not feel like a mooch, and then he can go. He knows I could pay for every resident in the whole apartment building to go and hardly notice, but that doesn't matter. What matters to him is how he feels about it."
"I kind of respect that," she admitted.
"Yeah, me too. It's just frustrating, that's all." Remembering the nearly hour-long conversation in which I'd watched John desperately wanting to accept the trip and fighting himself, I added, "Really frustrating. But anyhow, that's not what today is about. Are you still cool with picking people out?"
She nodded. "Donating your money to other people? I'm all over it."
I laughed. "Good stuff. Other than the Portugal trip I've hardly spent any of my interest this month, so I'm thinking of ten vendors and five grand each. Make sense?"
"Yup." She grinned at me. "And your delivery system is still okay with it?"
I grinned back. "Zack is just like you, happy to give away my money. But he and I don't really have time to pick 'em before the musical tonight, and also I think you're a little more interested in crafts than he is."
Claudia, wearing a necklace and earrings and ring and scarf and top and shoes she'd purchased at the show in past years, said, "Ya think?"
*****
Five hours later, Zack and I returned to the craft show. He clutched a big brown envelope, which I'd filled with ten smaller envelopes each containing a bank draft for five thousand dollars and a note saying 'an anonymous benefactor' had seen the artist's work and wanted to provide a career boost, and was grinning. "You're the coolest, Angela. They're going to be so happy. Don't you wish you could see them?"
"Kind of, but it's also fun to imagine their reaction."
He nodded, but said, "I won't have to. I'll see it."
We were a few booths away from the first vendor, and I said to Zack, "That's it over there, labeled B-12. Find that envelope."
Once he had it in his hand, I said, "I'm going down to the end of the aisle so they won't see me. You sure you know what to do?"
He nodded. "Find someone who works there and say someone I know likes their work and give them the envelope," he said, parroting back my instructions in the car on the way down.
"You got it. Go do it."
He grinned and took off, and I turned my back on him and hurried away. He joined me at the end of the aisle in a few moments, his eyes even brighter than before. "She thanked me, then she opened it and started crying, then she hugged me and thanked me like a million more times. She wanted to come with me to see you but I said you'd take it away if she did so she promised she wouldn't."
I raised my eyebrows. "I would not."
He laughed. "I know, but she doesn't."
"True." I wasn't so sure I liked him threatening the recipients, but it had prevented that one from trying to find me so it wasn't that bad. "All right, ready to go on?"
He was, and we did. After delivering the seventh envelope, we were heading toward the eighth vendor when Zack froze in his tracks. "That," he said, "is seriously cool."
"Cooler than me?" I said, trying to see what had caught his attention.
He laughed. "Like a million times cooler. Sorry, but it's true."
"I think I'll survive. But what is it?"
Zack shot me a look that screamed, "How clueless are you?", then said in the same sort of tone, "It's a leather case for my drumsticks."
Zack, to John's expressed and probably only partly mock horror, planned to begin playing the drums next year at school. He didn't currently have any drumsticks, and therefore had no need for a case for them, but his delight was obvious.
"Why's this one so great?"
He picked it up and smoothed his fingers over the black distressed leather. "It looks, like, ancient. Like I've been playing forever. And I bet it would last forever."
"I guarantee them for the life of the drummer."
Zack and I both turned to see a tall man with a shaved head and a neck tattoo of music notes smiling at us. "Which, in your case, would mean quite a long guarantee. How long have you been playing?"
Zack fidgeted. "I start in September," he mumbled.
I tried to catch the man's eye to signal him to go easy on Zack, but he didn't look at me and the warning wasn't necessary anyhow. "Good on you, man. Way to be prepared."
He sounded sincere, and Zack blushed but also grinned. "Thanks. Um, how much is this one?"
The man checked the tag, although something in his manner suggested he didn't need to, then cleared his throat. "Four hundred dollars. It's top-quality leather, hand-stitched, with hand-forged hardware. For you, though, I could do it for three hundred."
It might as well have been three million, since Zack didn't come close to having that kind of money. I had given him the two hundred dollars he'd earned for his speed with my letters but he had decided to add on an optional trip to a play while in Quebec and he'd earmarked nearly a hundred for that and another fifty for souvenirs.
My heart ached to buy the case for him, but I knew John wouldn't approve so I forced myself not to.
After a painful silence, Zack said, "Thanks. Do... do you have a card? I can save up and get it later."
"That I do." He pulled one from his pocket and gave it to Zack. "I look forward to hearing from you."
Zack mumbled another thanks and turned away. I took a breath to speak to the man, but then couldn't figure out what I could say so I just smiled at him and followed Zack.
We walked in silence for a while, and I wondered what I should say to him. I fully understood John's insistence that his son not learn to expect everything to be handed to him, but seeing him so longing for something that I could easily give him hurt.
Eventually Zack cleared his throat. "Got any more work for me to do? I kind of want to earn some money."
Such a rush of pride in him hit me that I could hardly breathe, but I managed to say, "I'll think about it. There's gotta be something, right?"
He smiled, his eyes sad but also resolute. "Right. Okay, so where does the next envelope go?"
He delivered the last three, and he seemed more cheerful after each one. As we began to leave the show, though, he stopped and said, "Can I talk to you a second?"
We moved out of the flow of traffic and he said, "I have ten bucks with me. I want you to give it to that drumstick bag guy."
"Okay. But why?"
He waved the now-empty big brown envelope at me. "Same as this. I can't give him five grand but I can give him my ten."
John had given him that money to buy himself a drink at the show's intermission that night, but if he wanted to use it for this I wouldn't argue. "You got it."
We returned to the appropriate aisle and Zack pulled the money from his pocket.
"You sure?"
He gave me a single nod. "I want to support him. Anonymously, like you did."
The man would almost certainly recognize me, but I didn't point that out. I took the bill from Zack. "I'll be back soon."
He nodded again then took off for the other end of the aisle. I returned to the booth, and when the man looked up and saw me I knew at once that he did remember me. "Where's your future drummer?"
I smiled. "He asked me to do something for you."
The man raised his eyebrows, and when I held out the money they went up still further. "W
hat's this?"
I took a breath to answer then realized that I couldn't tell him we'd been giving out money at the show since no doubt my donations would be big news among the vendors and there'd be no point in having had Zack hand out the money if I then announced it had come from me. "Um, he..." It hit me. "He had a project at school where he had to give gifts to people. He wanted to give you this because he admires your work so much."
The man stared at me, then at the bill, then at me again. "Hell of a kid you've got there. You're lucky."
"I know." I extended the bill still further. "He really wants you to have it."
"No way you can buy that case for him?"
I shook my head. "I wish I could. It's... complicated."
He studied me for a moment then reached out and took the money. "Tell him thank you."
"I will."
"Oh, and tell him it's a deposit. When he's ready, the case is his for another hundred and ninety bucks."
"Didn't you say three hundred before?"
He shook his head. "For a kid like that? If I did, I was mistaken."
I smiled at him. "I'll tell him. And thank you."
He sighed. "What if I made it a hundred? That's about the cost of the materials. Could you swing it then? I hate the idea of anyone else getting it now."
I shook my head. "Wish I could. His dad has... rules."
"You can't overrule him?"
I blinked, then said, "Oh, I'm not Zack's mom. Just a friend." But I hated the idea of someone else having the case too. "Would you be willing to take it off sale for today? I'll talk to his dad and email you tonight. Maybe I could buy it and Zack could pay me back or something."
He grabbed the case with one swift movement and tucked it behind the counter. "You got it." He handed me another of his cards. "Good luck with the dad."
I laughed. "Thank you. I'll need it."
We smiled at each other and I returned to Zack, who was hopping from one foot to another. When he saw me he said, "Well? What did he say?"
"He said to say thank you, and that it's a deposit and the price is now only two hundred bucks."
Zack considered this. "No, it's four hundred. That's what it's worth so that's what I'll pay."
I wasn't his mom, but at that moment I didn't think she could have been any prouder of him than I was.
*****
On the way home in the car, Zack babbled about the musical we'd seen, which featured songs by his favorite band Comet 1818, gleefully pointing out all the things I had just sat through with him. His delight was adorable, though, so I let him talk through it and even encouraged him. Eventually, though, he fell silent, then said, "Can I say something weird?"
"History would suggest you certainly can."
He slapped my arm.
"Do not hit the driver, buddy. Okay, what weird thing do you want to say?"
He didn't speak for a few seconds, then said slowly, "At intermission..."
He paused again but I had a feeling I knew where he was going. I had seen him looking longingly at a Comet 1818 water bottle that cost ten dollars, but of course he hadn't had the money to buy it. I had wanted to get it for him, but for once I hadn't been stopped purely by my knowledge that John wouldn't want me to. Not doing it felt right to me.
I didn't want to lead the witness, though, so I said, "Yeah?"
"That water bottle was cool. I..." He turned to face me. "This is the weird part. Can I say it?"
I looked over at him, trying to reassure him, before returning my eyes to the road and saying, "You can tell me anything."
"Okay. Well, I guess I thought maybe you would buy it for me, if I asked. But I didn't ask. I wanted to, but I didn't. Because I was kind of afraid you would buy it. I thought that would, like, take the fun out of giving that guy the money. Does that make any sense?"
Impressed with his perception, I smiled at him and said, "Honestly? Yeah. You knew you were making a choice when you gave him the money, and it wouldn't have meant as much if you'd ended up with the bottle too."
He nodded. "You're not so stupid after all."
I pretended shock. "Who says I am?"
He laughed. "Me, usually."
I swatted his shoulder.
"No hitting while you're driving."
"Fine. Watch out at the next stop light."
"Ooh, I'm so scared."
I rolled my eyes and we drove for a few moments in silence. Then he said, "Anyhow. Thanks. For giving that guy the money. I hope he was happy with it."
"He was."
"Good. That bag rocked."
"Yup."
"You remember you're dropping me off at Mom's, right?"
Fortunately he had said this just before I needed to get off the highway to do that. "No, but now I do." I quickly made the needed lane change and got to the exit ramp without too much trouble. "Good timing, thanks."
"Nice driving. Where'd you learn that, Need for Speed?"
I laughed. "Since I always crush you at that game, I guess so."
"Yeah, right."
I glanced at him, wondering if I should ask what I was thinking, then couldn't resist. "Do you wish your parents would get back together?"
"Sure," he said, shrugging. "What kid doesn't?"
Something twinged in my chest. Sympathy for him, no doubt.
I took a breath to ask if he thought it was possible but he started speaking before I could. "Actually, I guess I wish they'd never split. But now that I know it was because of Dad's gambling, I know that's never going to change. Not a chance."
His definitive tone surprised me. "Why are you so sure?"
He shot me a glance. "Have you met my mom? She's not the forgiving type."
I had had that impression. "But if your dad apologized, wouldn't she--"
"He did apologize. That's not how she works, though. Once you screw up, that's it. She might still, like, love him, I don't know, but she doesn't give second chances. She fires employees if they mess up one time, her housekeeper knocked over a vase and she was gone... nope, they ain't getting back together."
"Don't say 'ain't'," I said absently, knowing both John and Tiff hated it. "Does your dad know that?"
He shrugged. "For sure. She's always been like that so he'd have to. Whatever. Can I change your radio?"
"Sure," I said, then spent the rest of the trip to Tiff's regretting it as I was again blasted with Comet 1818.
Comet 1818, and confusion. I had honestly thought that John was expecting to get Tiff back after paying off his debt. If that wasn't his motivation, why was he so desperate to do it alone? He claimed it was so Zack wouldn't expect the world to fall into his lap, but the kid kept proving he didn't think that way. What was stopping John accepting any help from me?
Chapter Forty
John leaned back on the couch in my suite and looked around. "It's going to be hard to go back to real life after this." He raised his glass of champagne to me. "Thank you. So much. I can't believe I've finally been here. My sixth-grade self is delighted."
I smiled, thrilled I'd been able to grant him such a long-time wish. "You're most welcome. Absolutely any time."
We'd had a wonderful week. I'd spent my days at the conference while he did the sightseeing he'd always dreamed of, and then we spent our evenings together alternating between conference-related parties and visiting the best places he'd found during the day. His happiness had made me even happier, and he'd accepted my paying for our extravagant dinners with no more comment than a heartfelt thanks. He had actually taken cash from me for his needs during the day too, though he had looked a little awkward about that, and before the trip he had shocked me by permitting me to buy the drumstick bag, for which I'd paid the full four hundred dollars despite the seller's insistence he'd lowered the price, for Zack's grade-eight graduation present. I was starting to hope John might have found a way to get over his issues with my money.
I hoped so, because spending so much time with him on our trip had made me see him differently. We
'd always been comfortable with each other, but a new romantic nuance had entered our relationship. We sat closer together now, touching each other's hands and arms while we talked, and on our second night he'd been a little drunk and had hugged me good night and since then we'd hugged every time we parted. I liked it. A lot. I'd even caught myself making excuses to leave him for a bit so he'd hug me.
Shane? He'd faded from my mind and my heart far faster than I'd have expected. After his mother's departure we had begun hanging out again, but he seemed different. Before he'd been at pains to make sure I didn't think he had any interest in my money beyond making sure nobody took it from me, but now he kept pointing out areas where his life required improvement that I could provide. From the apartment he hated because he'd lived there with Liz to the car that embarrassed him with his colleagues to the courses that would enable him to finally get the business he'd dreamed of off the ground, nothing he had seemed to be good enough.
He didn't flat-out ask me for money, but he danced around it constantly. When I called him on it, he cried innocent and insisted he'd only been making conversation. I'd forgotten that tendency in him, that refusal to accept responsibility for his own actions, and I didn't much like seeing it again. He'd been 'encouraging' me to sleep with him but I had so far managed to avoid it. I didn't feel that kind of bond with him.
John, though, had never asked for a penny from me but finally seemed comfortable accepting the ones I offered, and we were having such a wonderful week together.
Emboldened by the champagne and the candlelight, I said, "It's been the best trip ever. I'll tell Kerr I'm never traveling without you again."
John laughed. "Will he be okay with that?"
"Why not? He pays for me and I pay for--" I cut myself off as he winced. "What?"
"I've been trying not to think about that."
"Sorry," I murmured.
He sighed. "It's okay. I know you paid, obviously, but I don't want to dwell on it. I hate it."
"Still?"
He looked at me. "What do you mean?"
I laid my hand on his arm. "I really thought," I said, hoping my mind could shake off the alcohol and find the right words, "that you were getting to be okay with this. That you didn't... hate me for the money any more."
Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Page 101
