Norah's Ark

by Judy Baer

  Uses pet as date bait. Needs to be noticed. Ego issues.

  “Sometimes the dog jumps all over her and he doesn’t do anything about it. She says he thinks it’s ‘cute’ and that the dog ‘likes her.’”

  Doesn’t watch out for her. Doesn’t help dog with its negative behavior. Not thoughtful. Wishy-washy.

  “If he treats Ellen like that now…” Joe frowned. “I’d better talk to her about this.”

  Maybe I should be a dog psychologist someday.

  “There’s Julie and Frank Morris.” Lilly pointed out the couple from the Toy Store being seated across the room.

  “She’s all right, but he’s not very friendly and that son of theirs.” Lilly wrinkled her pert nose. “What a rude boy! I saw him near Auntie Lou’s with another kid and, when she couldn’t see them, that friend of his began imitating her walk and he made no effort to stop him.”

  “Her walk?”

  “Haven’t you noticed? She’s been hobbling all week, like her hip hurts.”

  Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen her outside much lately other than to sweep the sidewalk in front of her store. Maybe that tumble in the back room had taken more of a toll than I’d first suspected.

  “She’s showing her age,” Joe commented.

  “Shouldn’t somebody be taking care of her?” Lilly’s brow furrowed. “Does she have any family?”

  “Not that I know of,” I interjected, “but I think she’s doing just fine.”

  Joe looked skeptical. “Lilly, have you told Norah what you told me?”

  “I was in the store yesterday,” Lilly began, “to see if she had some small bills. Lou had to go in the back to get them. She told me that she wasn’t using the cash register because she’d set a booby trap around it. Can you believe it? She showed me how she had it hooked up with wires tied to some of those sleigh bells she always has in that bowl on the counter. If anyone tried to open the till without knowing about the wires, a whole batch of bells would fall on the floor and make a terrible racket.”

  Oh, no, Lou! That’s not a good idea.

  “Then what?” Joe asked, amused. “She’d call in a reindeer to stomp all over the burglar?”

  Lilly giggled. “I think she planned to hit whoever it is over the head with a broom. I think she’s a little—” she made circling motions near her temple with her index finger “—loony.”

  “She is not! She’s fine. You just don’t know…”

  “She’s not young anymore,” Joe said. “She probably shouldn’t be living alone over that shop.”

  “So you think she’s loony, too?”

  “Maybe not loony but I do have questions about her ability to run the store much longer.”

  “What would she do without the store?” How could they discuss Lou and what they perceived as her problems so nonchalantly?

  “I don’t know. Lou would have to decide that.”

  She already has, I thought to myself, and it made me very uncomfortable to hear others take her so lightly.

  “Why,” Annie asked when I walked into the store the next morning, “do banks charge for insufficient funds when they know perfectly well that we don’t have enough funds already?”

  I dropped my purse on the counter and grabbed the notice that had come in the mail. “Again? I thought we had this all straightened out.”

  “That missing four hundred dollars messed us up, Norah. I’ll call the bank again, but they aren’t inclined to be understanding.”

  “Bad girl! Bad girl! Awwwk!”

  Even Winky is on my case. I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes. I want nothing more than to close and open them again to have Pond Street as it used to be—friendly, safe and calm, a haven in the storm. With all the stupid misunderstandings, suspicions, speculation and gossip going on, I might as well stay home and watch soap operas.

  Nothing smells better than a horse. A close second, however is the pad of a Siberian husky’s foot. Don’t ask me how I know this, but take my word for it. Maybe I do spend a little more time with animals than I should….

  That’s why every time I see Sarge, the big sorrel gelding entices me out of the shop and into the street.

  Sarge turned his head to nicker at me when he saw me start across the street. That sound is music to my ears. I interpret it as, “Hello, darling, I’m so glad to see you.” Who wouldn’t fall for that?

  I stroked the broad side of his neck and he nudged at me with his nose, completely ignoring Nick. He was wearing Auntie Lou’s sleigh bell on his headstall again. When Nick turned around, there was a smile already on his face. “I figured it was you. Sarge doesn’t get lovesick over just anyone.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet you tell that to all the girls.”

  “I don’t, but you should know there is a pretty little filly that has her eye on him. She’s a buckskin with great flanks and a saucy flick to her tail.”

  “How can a mere human compete with anything like that?”

  “Just warning you not to get your hopes up. She hangs out in the same pasture and she’s tough competition.”

  “Where do you keep, Sarge? I’ve been curious about that.”

  “All the mounted police horses are kept together at a boarding facility where they’re trained and cared for. It’s a great place. Every horse should be so lucky.”

  “So you don’t ride him when you’re off duty?”

  “I have my own recreational horse.”

  “You do? That surprises me. I thought you and Sarge were inseparable.”

  “He’s my partner and as professionally trained as I am. We work together and rely on each other for our safety. Sometimes it’s okay for us to get away from each other.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way.” The sun was warming my back and Sarge was smelling deliciously of saddle leather and fresh hay. I could have curled up and napped right here in the sunlight. That’s what animals do for me. They make me calm. They are perfect as God made them and they never try to be anything but themselves. Humans could take a lesson or two from them.

  “If you’d like, I can introduce you to Cocoa sometime.”

  “Cocoa? That’s nice.”

  “I grew up riding her mother, Duchess, and I raised Cocoa from a colt. Would you like to meet her?”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” I felt my chin draw down and I stared at the pavement. “I have to admit, though, that I don’t ride.”

  “You don’t? I thought surely…”

  “City kid,” I said by way of explanation. “My extracurriculars were soccer, tennis, French horn, choir, cheerleading, volleyball, ballet…”

  “Ballet?” Nick cocked his head in a way that told me he’d buy into anything but ballet.

  “Let’s just say my toe shoes never got off the ground, okay? I was a big disappointment to all involved, but Mother kept pushing because ‘all the other girls love ballet, dear.’ Now if she’d signed me up for clogging…”

  “It sounds like you are way past due for a riding lesson, Norah. What do you say?”

  “Yes.” Emphatically, unequivocally, undeniably, Yes!

  But before I could do anything else, I had to have a conversation with Auntie Lou.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I heard Joe loping after me as I headed down the street.

  He was panting by the time he reached me and his perfect black forelock was mussed a little. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” I slowed and he took me by the arm.

  “To visit Auntie Lou. What are you doing? Practicing for the Olympics? You have a great sprint.”

  “I’m chasing you. Do you want to go to the theater on Saturday afternoon? Romeo and Juliet. My sister asked me to use their tickets because they’ll be out of town.”

  “I’d love to but I can’t. I just made other plans for Saturday.”

  “Anything you can cancel?” He looked charmingly hopeful.

  “I don’t think so.” If I were a hundred percent honest with myself I might hav
e said, “I don’t want to.” The idea of spending Saturday learning to ride was just too tempting. I like Shakespeare well enough, but even he can’t compete with a horse.

  I saw the look of disappointment on Joe’s features. “I’m sorry. Could you take someone else?”

  “There’s no one else I want to take. You know that.”

  “Maybe Lilly could sub for me this once,” I suggested and was surprised at how quickly Joe took to the proposition.

  “Good idea. Do you want to mention it to her? I’ll stop by her store later and see if she’s up for it.” He smiled widely and it occurred to me that I took Joe too much for granted. He’s an incredible-looking man, sweet, thoughtful…everything a girl could want. Except, of course, for a horse.

  Auntie Lou was standing on a ladder, ubiquitous broomstick in hand, straightening pictures. Today, in a black crinkle-fabric skirt she’d purchased from Lilly, a long-sleeved sweater with pearlized buttons that went right to the first of her chins, a little black chiffon scarf tied around her head and that broomstick in hand, it wouldn’t have surprised me much if she’d launched herself out for a sail around the room cackling, “You’d better watch out for your little dog, Toto, my pretty.”

  “You’re looking frisky on top of that ladder.” I bit my tongue to keep myself from adding, “Don’t fall.”

  That sort of warning annoys Auntie Lou as much as it exasperates me. “Don’t fall” is a ridiculous suggestion, really. After all, no one gets up on a ladder with the express idea of falling off. In fact, most people take extra precautions to see that they come off the ladder the same way they got on—one rung at a time. Since Auntie Lou is touchy about her age these days, I don’t want her to get the idea that I’m worrying about her—even though I am.

  “Here, take this.” She swung the broom toward me so that I had to duck as I grabbed it. Then she navigated her way off the ladder and dusted her hands on her skirt.

  I’m sure Lilly didn’t mean to have Lou wear that skirt with crocheted bedroom slippers, I thought to myself. Where are the fashion police when you really need them?

  “I sold that pair of frames over the fainting couch this morning. A few minutes ago the lady called and says she wants the couch, too.”

  “Productive morning.” I followed her to the back of the store and helped myself to a cup of Lou’s coffee. I’ve always speculated that Lou has a little side business with the city providing them with tar to repair the streets—and she cooks it up in this very coffeepot. “Do you have any cream?”

  “You hate my coffee, dearie. Why do you keep trying to drink it?”

  “To be sociable, I suppose.”

  “I don’t eat fish food when I come to your shop. You don’t have to be polite. We’re beyond that.” Auntie Lou cackled. “I’m way beyond being polite. That’s one thing about being my age. You can be honest, instead. Last month when that furniture salesman tried to sell me a new couch that looked like a casket, I told him what I thought about it. Forty years ago I would have tried to be polite.” She snorted. “Who wants a sofa that looks like a casket, anyway?”

  No one I know, that’s for sure.

  “I’m sure there are lots of benefits to being your age.”

  “Maybe. I’ll let you know when I think of them,” she quipped before adding, “I’ve finally quit lying about my age and started bragging about it, instead.” Her eyes held a foxy twinkle. “My bad knee is more accurate about predicting a change in the weather than the weatherman and I’m getting more men in my life all the time.”

  “Men?” I choked.

  “You know Arthur and his friend Rhuma because they’ve landed me on the floor a time or two. Now I’ve met someone new, two fellows, in fact, Charlie and Ben.”

  Puzzlement obviously showed on my face.

  “Charlie Horse and Ben Gay!” Lou chortled, slapping her weather-predicting knee. Then she looked at me slyly through lowered lashes. “Not too bad for an old thing, eh?”

  “You are incorrigible, do you know that?”

  “Nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.” Lou whipped off the little black scarf she was wearing and looked in the mirror that hung beside the coffeepot. “Do you think I’d look good if I got a facelift?” She stretched her jaw from side to side and lifted the folds beneath her chin with the top of her hand. “Or is there just too much to lift? I wonder if I could find a doctor who works with a crane instead of a scalpel.”

  “Behave yourself, Auntie Lou. What’s gotten into you?” Much as we were laughing at her barrage of jokes, I knew there was something more behind her words that she wasn’t saying.

  “Nothing that rewinding the clock wouldn’t help.” Heavily, she sat down in her chair. “Getting old isn’t for the fainthearted, Norah. I do not like it very well.”

  “‘You’re only as old as you think’—isn’t that what you always tell me?”

  “And I believe it. I’m just having a little trouble convincing this body of mine.”

  “Then I have a great idea. Come with me to church on Sunday. We’ll walk. It’s not far and it will be good exercise. Then we’ll find somewhere to have brunch. What do you say?”

  “What does she say to what?”

  Our heads swiveled toward the door. Neither of us had heard Nick come in. He was appearing around town more and more often when he wasn’t on duty.

  “To church and brunch.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  Before I could say another word, Lou popped in, “Will you join us?”

  I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Nick.

  Caught off guard, Nick stood there openmouthed. “Sure,” he finally managed. “Why not?”

  Why not, indeed?

  “Lou,” he began, “I’m wondering if you have an antique price list book of items between 1920 and 1940. A buddy of mine inherited his grandfather’s estate. There are a lot of things in the house that were purchases during and around the Depression. Carnival glass, milk glass, depression glass, Fostoria, anything like that. He’s trying to get some idea of their value.”

  Auntie Lou scrunched up her face into a prunelike pucker. “Now where might I have put those books? I haven’t looked at them recently but I think they’re on the third shelf in the storeroom, left-hand side, right next to my books on Chippendale furniture.” She did that little rocking motion she uses to build momentum to get out of her chair. That’s another thing Auntie Lou says about aging, it takes more tries to get herself off the couch.

  She scurried into the back, leaving Nick and I together.

  “Third shelf, left-hand side, next to Chippendale, huh? She may have a little trouble with mobility, but there’s nothing wrong with her mind,” he observed.

  A rush of warmth and appreciation flooded through me. “At least you see what I see when I look at Auntie Lou—a sharp, savvy forty-year-old mind trapped in a weakening body. Sometimes life just isn’t fair….”

  “Sometimes you’re the dog and sometimes you’re the hydrant,” Auntie Lou said as she triumphantly exited the storeroom with a book in hand. “If you get to be the dog most of the time, I suppose you should count yourself lucky. Here’s your book.”

  We were all laughing when a well-dressed couple entered the store. Lou thrust the book into Nick’s hand before toddling to the front to greet her customers. “If your friend decides to sell some of his items, have him call me. I’m a bit of an expert on the Great Depression, having been a child in those days.”

  Nick and I wove our way through the maze of antique baby buggies, rocking chairs, trunks and footstools to the front. Outside in the sunlight, we stared at each other, neither of us seeming to know quite what to do or say.

  Nick broke the silence. “I thought I’d head to the Toy Store next. My buddy wondered if they’d know anything about old toys that an antique dealer might not.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” I offered. “I don’t know them very well. It wouldn’t hurt to act friendly.” And keep an eye on Bryce.
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br />   I wasn’t quite ready to tell Nick my suspicions, mostly for Julie’s sake, I suppose, but I couldn’t wait much longer.

  “Do they keep to themselves?”

  “Let’s just say that if the shopkeepers on Pond Street are family, they’re distant cousins who don’t seem to like their relatives very much.”

  “I see.” Nick’s eyes took on a faraway gaze that made me wonder exactly what it was he did see.

  To our surprise, it was neither Julie nor Franklin behind the counter but Bryce himself. He was plugged into so much equipment that he looked like a bionic man recharging. He wore a headset attached to an iPod, a watch so complicated it could probably tell him what time it is in every time zone on Mars. He had his hand on the joystick of a Nintendo, a cell phone clipped to the pocket of his signature black T-shirt and more earphones draped around his neck. The orange tips of his hair had been replaced by pink and green. He was so engrossed in his music and the game that he didn’t even see us until Nick reached out and waved a hand in front of his down-turned eyes. A shoplifter could have made off with every baby doll in the store without having him notice.

  When Nick did get his attention, however, he had all of it. Bryce scowled at him as if he’d interrupted a delicate bit of brain surgery instead of Barbarians meet Godzilla or some other weird game.

  “Are your mom or dad around?”

  “Nah. Mom’s at the market and Dad took the car to the garage. He’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  “You don’t happen to know anything about antique toys, do you?” Nick said conversationally, obviously not expecting an answer.

  “I used to collect PEZ dispensers and Matchbox cars when I was a little kid. Does that count?”

  “Further back than that, I’m afraid. I’ll write down what I’m looking for if you’ll give me a piece of paper. Your dad can call me if he can help.”

  When Nick was finished, Bryce took the slip of paper and carefully taped it to the cash register. “I’ll tell him as soon as he gets back. Is there anything else I can help you with?” So he could actually be polite when pressed.