5 From the Grounds Up

by Sandra Balzo

  'Uh-unh.' Ronny slid his finger under the edge of the flap. 'Why?'

  'Somebody threw a rock through the window and I thought the owners would like to know. Maybe I'll stop at Town Hall. Somebody there can probably tell me.'

  Ronny was looking over my list.

  'I know it's short,' I said sheepishly. 'Between the ceiling and the water damage, not much could be saved.'

  'Perfectly understandable. Besides you bring something far more valuable.'

  'My expertise?' I guessed. I was looking at what Ronny was wearing. Jeans, T-shirt and work boots. And he was carrying a clear plastic document file.

  'You are Uncommon Grounds. You bring the name, the reputation and the customers.' He looked down at his shirt. 'What are you staring at?'

  'Your clothes,' I admitted. 'You look so . . .'

  'Normal?' Ronny asked with a grin.

  'Well, yes.'

  'Ha!' Ronny said, striking a pose. 'I laugh at normality and drop ice cubes down the vest of mediocrity.'

  I recognized the paraphrase. 'Rowan Atkinson in Blackadder. I loved it.'

  'Me, too,' Ronny said. 'But back to the clothes. I have to take weekends off because there are only so many decades.'

  'This way you don't have to repeat as often.'

  He looked offended. 'Please. The decades may repeat, but I never do.'

  God help us, Ronny must have another pair of polyester pants at home.

  'You are a marvel, partner.' I was going to ask what day the fifties had been rescheduled to, but Sarah pulled up in her Firebird, and—

  Wait a minute . . .?

  'Wow.' I said as she parked in front of us. 'Mario is a miracle worker after all.'

  I circled the car. 'It looks better than ever.'

  Sarah's turn to be offended. 'What do you mean?'

  I couldn't say the right thing to anyone today. Though as I observed to Frank, 'irritable' was a normal condition for Sarah and a reassuring characteristic of her for me.

  'I meant that Mario did a wonderful job. It was a compliment.'

  'This is not my car. I'm test driving it.'

  Ronny was taking a walk around the car himself. 'Maggy's right, though. It looks identical.'

  I hadn't said the Firebirds looked identical. I said this one looked better and I'd stand by that. Not repeat it, perhaps, but stand by it.

  Mollified, Sarah turned off the engine. 'Mario found it for me. It has four thousand miles on it.'

  'What? Did some little old lady from Pasadena own it?'

  'Oconomowoc, but yeah, that's pretty much the gist of the pedigree.'

  Oconomowoc was west of Brookhills. 'So all this is original?' Ronny asked, touching the hood.

  'Except the paint.' Sarah climbed out and wiped off the fingerprints Ronny might have left. 'That faded over time, so Mario restored and clear-coated it.'

  'Beautiful job.' Ronny looked like he wanted to touch the car again. Sarah eyed him and he withdrew his hand.

  'Are you going to buy it?' I asked.

  'I'm thinking about it, yeah,' Sarah said.

  'Just be careful about doing that on the rebound,' Ronny warned. 'When my favorite platform shoes wore out, I found a new pair online in my size.' He shook his head. 'What a mistake.'

  'They didn't fit?' I guessed.

  'They were made of cardboard. Fell apart the first Disco Day.'

  'And the moral of the story is?' Sarah asked dryly.

  'Grief clouds one's mind.'

  At Ronny's answer, Sarah teared up. Apparently the lithium hadn't kicked in completely.

  Seeing her turn away, Ronny put his hand on Sarah's shoulder. 'I'm not saying you shouldn't buy it, Cuz. But if you'd like me to look it over first—'

  'Mario said—'

  Ronny held up his hands. 'I'm sure Mario is very competent. Much more so than me. I'm just saying that if you want a second opinion, I'm available.'

  'That's what Mario suggested,' Sarah said. 'He told me I shouldn't take his word for the condition of the car, since he's the seller.'

  'What a good guy,' I chimed in.

  'I have to go see the lawyer about our partnership agreement,' Ronny said. 'But I should have time to look at the car on Monday. Do you think Mario could bring it to your place first thing in the morning? It would save me considerable time.'

  'Sure,' Sarah said, pulling an envelope out of her pocket. 'Here's the deed.'

  'Great,' Ronny said, opening the document file he still held. He pulled out a paper and showed it to us. 'Here's my proof of funds and I'll put this,' he took Sarah's envelope, 'with it.'

  Ronny looked around. 'What did I do with your list, Maggy?'

  'It's in your back pocket,' I said, 'for what it's worth.'

  'Don't underestimate your value,' Ronny said, now putting all three documents into the file. 'As I told you before, Maggy Thorsen brings 'Uncommon Grounds' and its reputation to the enterprise. That's priceless, right, Sarah?'

  She was examining an imaginary nick on the finish of the Firebird II. 'Right.'

  What, no smart remark? But then Sarah was distracted by the reincarnation of her beloved baby.

  'I think that's just a little tar,' I said helpfully. 'Probably kicked up when you turned off Brookhill Road. They were patching holes there yesterday.'

  Sarah rubbed at the mark with her cloth and then beamed at me. 'Came right off. Thank you.'

  Yeah, the meds definitely hadn't kicked in. She was being way too nice. Unless this was the real Sarah.

  I looked at her smile.

  Nah.

  'What's that?' Sarah asked, pointing at my hand.

  I realized I was still clutching the pink blossom Art Jenada picked out of my hair.

  'This is from that shrub in front of the florist shop. It got stuck in my hair and Art Jenada picked it out.'

  The bloom was pretty much mangled. I took a sniff. 'It's already lost its scent.'

  'What were you doing in the bushes with Art Jenada?' Sarah asked.

  'I wasn't "in the bushes" with him.' I explained about the broken window and our subsequent conversation.

  I finished with, 'He accused me, or actually us, of wanting the florist shop.'

  'Who'd want the place?' Ronny nodded at the ramshackle building next door. 'It's an eyesore.'

  'That's what Jenada maintained,' I said. 'But then he said the whole block would be a "goldmine", for whoever owned it.'

  'They better have a trunkful of money,' Sarah said. 'This place is structurally sound. I'm not sure about that one.'

  'I wouldn't even walk in there,' Ronny agreed.

  'Jenada wasn't talking about fixing it up. He was talking about tearing it down, along with the depot. He said the land itself would be more valuable as a result. I'm not sure he's wrong.'

  Sarah looked at me for a long moment.

  'Nope,' she finally said. 'We're stretching ourselves financially to open the depot. Where would we get the money to buy the flower shop?'

  We turned in unison to Ronny.

  'Don't be thinking of me,' he said, holding up his hands. 'The seventy-five is all there is.'

  Sarah sighed. 'Fine. Let someone else with vision do it.'

  'Like Art Jenada,' I said.

  'Do you think he really wants the place?'

  'I think he wants both places. Ours and the florist. And,' I paused dramatically, 'I think he might engage in a little vandalism to get them.'

  'The rock through the window?' Ronny asked. 'Why would Jenada do that?'

  'To make the place look worse, so no one else would want it? But I was thinking more about the things that have happened here at the depot. The loosening of the railing. Sarah's car.'

  'My Firebird?' Sarah picked up a discarded plank from the damaged deck. 'I'll take the bastard's head off.'

  'You will not,' I said. 'We have no proof.'

  'Which is a reason not to go to the police,' Sarah said. 'It's not a reason why I shouldn't smack him one. Or two.'

  'Calm down, Cuz,
' from Ronny. 'Going vigilante isn't going to help anything.' He turned to me. 'What makes you think Jenada is involved?'

  'Flour and talcum were found on the Firebird's driver's seat, and he claims he didn't sit in the car.'

  'Talcum?' Ronny asked. 'I thought you said it was just flour.'

  'I did, but then I saw the lab results on Pavlik's notepad. The police thought at first that the suspected cocaine had been cut with it.'

  'Good thinking, I guess.' Ronny said.

  'But if Jenada did it,' Sarah said, 'wouldn't he have covered by saying he was in the car later?'

  'Not if he didn't realize why I was asking.' I never minded patting myself on the back.

  'Pretty stupid of him,' Sarah grumbled, taking the wind out of my sails. 'What else you got?'

  'This.' I held up the blossom. 'It doesn't smell.'

  'So?' Ronny asked, looking puzzled. 'Why would you think it did?'

  'Because I smelled flowers when I was with Jenada,' I said triumphantly. 'It wasn't the blossom I smelled, it was him.'

  'Jenada was wearing perfume?' Sarah seemed to no longer dwell on her home planet.

  'No,' Ronny said, finally getting it. 'Talcum powder.'

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  'Why the hell would Jenada be wearing powder?' Sarah said. 'He sure doesn't look gay.'

  She realized what she'd said and held up her hands apologetically. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything about Eric.'

  Definitely not our usual, insensitive Sarah.

  'Not to worry.' I turned to Ronny. 'My son is gay. And,' I grinned at Sarah,'he doesn't "look" gay, either.'

  'Anyway,' I continued. 'I'm not sure why Jenada would use powder. Maybe he dresses up as his mother and sits in a rocking chair.'

  'Psycho,' Sarah said.

  'Right,' I said approvingly. 'The original, though, not the remake.'

  'No, I meant you,' she said. 'You're the psycho.'

  Now that was just unkind.

  'Maybe he has jock itch,' Ronny offered. 'Or the pain and heartbreak of athlete's foot. I've been known to use powder when nothing is available.'

  Art Jenada and jock itch on Sarah's driver's seat. Not a pretty picture.

  'Another thing,' I said. 'When I rang Jenada's bell that day, he didn't answer. Then when I was walking away, he finally came out. He could have just made it back from where Sarah's car was parked.'

  'Did you talk to Pavlik last night?' Sarah asked. 'Tell him someone turned my car?'

  I said I had. I didn't add that Pavlik suspected she'd done it herself.

  'So they're going to investigate?' Ronny asked.

  'It's not Pavlik's case,' I said. 'It's the Brookhills municipal department and they've decided it was an accident.'

  'Accident,' Ronny echoed with a poker face.

  'Then it's up to us to take matters into our own hands,' Sarah said, raising the plank again.

  Ronny took it away from her. 'I have to go talk to the lawyer now. Promise me you won't do anything stupid.'

  'Who says it would be stupid?'

  'I do,' Ronny said. 'Do you want to end up back in jail?'

  Sarah shook her head. 'Big Martha kept smiling at me.'

  'A woman in the cell with you?' I asked.

  'I don't know.'

  Maybe Pavlik was right. Sarah's memory was faulty. 'You don't know if she was in the cell?'

  'No, I don't know if she was a woman.' Sarah shivered. 'And I don't want to find out.'

  With Ronny on his mission to the lawyer, Sarah and I were alone. I wanted to ask her about her own visit to the family law attorney, but not while we were standing on the street in front of the depot.

  'What are you doing now?' I asked her.

  She gestured toward the Firebird. 'I need to take her back.'

  'This one's a girl?'

  'It's easier when you have one of each. They don't suffer from comparison.'

  Oh. Well, that made perfect sense.

  'Want me to follow you to Mario's?' I said. 'Then we can drive on to my house. Maybe have an early dinner? Grill out?'

  Sarah shook her head. 'You're being nice to me again. Why?'

  'Do I need a reason to be nice?'

  'Usually.'

  I was really sick of having my courtesy questioned. I thought about telling her 'why'. And then, I did.

  'I know about the lithium, Sarah.'

  'Who told you?' she demanded. 'Was it that spineless snitch Caron?'

  'You told Caron?' They were both traitors: Sarah for telling Caron, and Caron for not coming clean with me. Just 'happened' to see her at the psychiatrist, my ass.

  'I just happened to see her at the psychiatrist,' Sarah said. 'I had to tell her. Besides, I wanted to compare drugs. There's something so liberating about knowing other people are crazy, too.'

  'You're not crazy,' I said. 'You have a mood disorder.'

  'Mood, schmood.' Sarah smiled. 'The drugs are good.'

  I started to ask her how long she'd been on them, but decided to defer.

  'I want to hear more,' I said, 'but let's wait till my house. You can drop off the car and then we'll stop at the store to buy something to grill.'

  'I have a better idea,' Sarah said. 'You go home and let Frank out and feed him. Then come over to my house. Bring wine if you want it.'

  'How are you going to get home?' I asked.

  'Mario.'

  The way she said it made me wonder whether she and Mario were more than hotrod-lover and mechanic. I'd have suggested that Mario join us, if I hadn't wanted to speak to Sarah in private.

  Besides, there was only so much car talk I could take.

  'What are we having?' I was onboard with not cooking or having to straighten up my house. I did, though, need to know which color wine to bring.

  'Pizza,' Sarah said, 'or whatever is in the refrigerator.'

  I didn't necessarily want pizza again, but I'd also seen the inside of Sarah's refrigerator. 'Pizza is just fine. I'll bring red.'

  'Just enough for you,' Sarah said, climbing into the driver's seat of Firebird II. 'I've had to give it up. The lithium, you know.'

  'But you had some the other night,' I pointed out. 'In fact, the other two nights. And Jim Beam yesterday.'

  'Big mistakes and I paid for them, believe me.' She started the car. 'I scuttled my rum and Cokes. Who knew they considered wine "alcohol", too?'

  With a wave, Sarah took off.

  As she departed with a roar, I saw the curtain behind Art Jenada's front window twitch.

  Somebody, and I think we all know who, had been watching us.

  When I approached Sarah's house nearly an hour later, a white van was pulling away.

  'Did Mario just leave?' I asked, hooking a thumb toward the disappearing truck.

  Sarah swung the front door wide and stepped aside to let me in. 'We discussed having Ronny check out the car. Mario is going to drop it by tomorrow morning at eight thirty.'

  I imagined the conversation:

  Sarah: 'I want my cousin to look at the car. Monday all right with you?'

  Mario: 'Sure.'

  I didn't quite see why that required a house-call, but if Sarah had found a kindred spirit in Mario, I was all for it. And her. Or them.

  Sarah picked up a Schultz's grocery bag that was sitting next to the threshold.

  'I thought we were ordering pizza?' I said. 'You don't have to cook.'

  'I'm not,' Sarah said, shaking the sack at me. 'These are Auntie Vi's things. Mario found the bag in the trunk of my Firebird.'

  'You should have invited him to join us,' I said, knowing full well it was too late.

  'I did. He had plans.'

  'Don't you think you should have cleared it with me? After all, we might have private stuff to talk about. Partner stuff.'

  'You just suggested I invite him.'

  'I was making a gesture. Showing support of your relationship with him.'

  Sarah looked skyward. 'And I'm the one on drugs.'

  I followed her
out to the kitchen, wanting to take advantage of the opening. 'So, how long have you been on lithium?'

  Sarah was going through the stack of takeout menus next to her phone. 'Just a week. That's why I slipped up on the wine.'

  And the Jim Beam. But, being the sensitive friend that I am, I plunked my bottle of Syrah on the counter and went digging through Sarah's cupboard drawers for a corkscrew.

  'Last one on the left,' she supplied.

  'When did you realize you were . . . having problems?' I finished rather lamely, even for me.

  'You mean when did I know I was a crazy?'

  'Stop that,' I snapped. 'This isn't something you should kid about.'

  Sarah turned, Pizza Palace menu in hand. 'No. This is something you can't kid about. I have it, so I can kid about it. I can say anything I damn well please.'

  Her hand was shaking a bit when she picked up the phone. 'What do you want? Pepperoni, mushrooms and banana peppers?'

  'Go ahead and get onions.' It didn't rise to the level of anchovies, but this was a more generous concession than it might appear. The topping agreed with Sarah about as well as it did with Frank. Urging Sarah to eat onions was akin to sacrificing myself on the altar of flatulence.

  Sarah turned around, phone to her ear. 'Really?'

  'Really. And I'm sorry. I've just been worried about you.'

  'Before, is when you should have—' She held up her finger and placed our order.

  When she hung up, I asked, 'What? No infinite holds? No singing of pizza songs?'

  'Nope. I think you may have imagined the whole thing.' She grinned at me. 'I've been really worried about you, Maggy.'

  My, my. Weren't we feeling chipper?

  'Point taken. We're all nuts. So what were you saying about "before"?'

  'Just that now I'm getting treatment and it's helping. So what's to worry about?'

  'Nothing,' I said. Except the depot, her late step-uncle, her even 'later' car, and her teenage foster kids. But if Sarah could see a silver lining, so could I.

  I went to hug her and she held up her hands to ward me off. 'Let's not get carried away, OK? I don't like you that much.'

  'You are feeling better,' I said, delighted.

  'Well, yeah. Kind of.' Sarah set out a wine glass for me and a Coke for herself. 'I still have the mood swings, but they're not as wide as they were.'

  'Great.'

  She shook her head. 'I have to tell you, Maggy. It scared the hell out of me when I cried.'