by Jeff Shelby
“Evening,” he said, pulling the glasses up onto his nose on a chain around his neck and positioning a pair of glasses on his nose . “How can I help you?”
“Are you by any chance Harold?” I asked.
“I am one and the same ,” he said. His smile widened, revealing coffee-stained teeth. “And you are?”
“Daisy,” I replied. “Daisy Savage.”
Even behind the ancient glasses, I could see the recognition in his eyes. “Oh, yes. From Prism. My wife told me she spoke with you.” He held out a hand with thick fingers and I noticed his bitten-down nails . “I'm Harold.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking hands with him.
We stood there awkwardly for a moment.
“So,” he finally said. “What brings you in tonight?”
Fair question. It was a fair question but, if I'd answered honestly, it would have taken an hour to explain. “Well, I was just on my way home and Harriet told me about your store, so I wanted to...come be and see it . si Si nce I've never been in before .” ,” I finished lamely.
He nodded, as if he'd heard that a lot. He adjusted the his glasses on his nose and looked around the store . “ I Well, i t's not much, but it's mine.” He paused. “And God willing, it'll stay that way for awhile longer. Hard to compete with the bigger box stores and the online companies. ”
I nodded, listening.
He picked up a cord sitting in front of him and began to wind it up. “ Mostly, I depend on loyalty from people who've worked with me in the past. The good news is that I can get anything th ey ose bigger stores can get you and . s S ometimes faster.”
It sounded like something he'd said about a hundred times, rehearsed and rhythmic. A pang of guilt stabbed at my stomach. I always tried to shop locally and support the Moose River businesses, but I was just like everyone else. The idea of saving money and getting things delivered to my door sometimes outweighed putting money into the pockets of local business owners.
“Originally, I'd hoped to open a couple of stores,” Harold continued. “One here, one over in Walnut Haven, maybe one down in the cities.” He planted his hands on his hips and smiled. “But that just wasn't in the cards, so this is my only one. Gets hard sometimes, but at least the only way the boss can yell at me is if I talk to myself.” He smiled. “Or unless Harriet gets mad at me.”
I laughed chuckled . Harold was a nice man. Maybe Harriet was nicer, too, than I'd given her credit for. He had to be be to put up with his wife, I thought, remembering her antics with the business card.
“So that's my story,” he said , shrugging. . He stowed the cord in a box under the counter and grabbed another one. “Not terribly interesting, but it's the only one I've got.”
“I'm envious that you have your own business,” I told him. “I've always wanted to do that. Start something and own it.”
“It's not rocket science,” he sa id, placing his hands on the counter id. He tossed the second cord into the box . “Just takes a lot of stubbornness and a little bit of support. And, if you're like me, you can't be good at anything else.” He smiled again. “Computers and sales, that's all I know. Pretty sure if I tried my hand at anything else quit doing this , I'd end up panhandling on the street.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” I said. “If you've figured out how to run your own business, I think you'd come up with something.”
“Maybe,” he said , shrugging. . He reached down and grabbed a mess of jumbled cords and set them o n the counter. “I just hope I don't have to find out.”
I hoped so, too.
“So Harriet tells me you have something to do with the computers over at Prism?” he said, raising a bushy eyebrow. “That you're working on some sort of fundraiser to help replace the stolen ones?”
I nodded and laid out the basics of the talent sho w. w, purposefully avoiding discussing replacement options.
“Well, that all sounds pretty good,” he said when I'd finished. “We'll have to make sure we get over there and buy some tickets to watch the show . I'm sure Harriet can round up a bunch of folks for you through the PTA. She seems to know everyone over there at the school.”
“Yes, she's offered some help,” I said evasively . “Which I really appreciate.”
His eyebrows drew together. “She also said you might be looking to work something out as far as purchasing the new computers ,” he said, smiling. “ . Goes without saying that I'd be happy to be a part of that.”
I cleared my throat. “ Yes, right. Unfortunately, I don't have anything to do with the purchasing. I'm a volunteer and as far as I know, all I'm in charge of is putting on the show and then turning the money that we raise over to the school.”
He blinked several times and readjusted the glasses. stared at me through his thick glasses, the mass of cords still in his hands. His fingers tapped on the counter. He coughed into his hand.
“Oh, I see,” he finally said. “I guess I must've misunderstood Harriet. She said you were the one that who might be coming to place the order.”
“ Unfortunately, I'm not,” I said , shaking my head firmly . “I'm just a volunteer and this . This a a ll just sort of toppled fell into my lap.”
He nodded, the smile on his face smile dimming by the second. “Oh, sure, I understand. I was just...an order like that really makes a difference to a small business like mine. Be nice to have something like that walk through the door.”
The pang of guilt I'd felt earlier had morphed into a full-blown stomach punch. I felt like I was letting him down, even though I had no control over the situation . It was like I'd just sucked all of the air – and money – out of Data Dork.
“I do plan to let the school know, though, that we'd be best served using you,” I said quickly. “That you're local, that communication would be easy , and that you know and are connected to the Prism community.”
He forced the smile back onto his face. “That would be terrific of you. Thank you.” The smile faded again. “Though, I'd imagine with all of the turmoil there at Prism right now, it may take some time for them to get those computers purchased. So I won't be counting on anything quick.”
“Turmoil?” I asked. “You mean the theft?”
“Well, that and the changes that are coming,” he said. “I'd think things m ay ight be a little out of sorts for awhile.”
I had no clue what he was talking about. “Changes?”
“Anytime you bring in new people, there's usually a period of adjustment,” he said. “Which usually means things get set to the side or put off or whatever. Hard to think that the replacing computers would be set aside postponed , but I could certainly see it happening.”
I was still lost. “Harold, what changes are you talking about?”
“I would imagine that a new president also might have her or his own way of doing things,” he continued. He scratched his head. “Probably a list of vendors, too, that they use .” He shook his head. . “ So it may not matter anyway.”
I blinked leaned closer , making sure I'd heard his words right. “New president?”
“Not that I know Mrs. Bingledorf, but I'd guess I'd have a better shot of striking a deal with her because she knows Harriet than with whoever's gonna take over for her.”
“Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “Wait a second. Mrs. Bingledorf is leaving Prism? Since when?”
Harold Hollenstork finally seemed to realize that we were having a conversation and that I was asking questions. “Oh. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I just figured that because you and Harriet had been talking, you probably talked knew about that.”
“So she's really leaving?” I asked, completely dumbfounded. “Bingledorf?
He suddenly looked uncomfortab le, his fingers tapping faster on the countertop le and he busied himself with a new cord . “I think you should probably talk to Harriet about it. I really don't know anything and I've probably gotten it all wrong. Wouldn't be the first time I'd gotten a story messed up.” He paused. “You s
hould talk to Harriet.”
“I can't believe that's true,” I said , mostly to myself . “I haven't heard a word.”
“Like I said,” Harold said. “Wouldn't be the first time I've gotten a story backwards. I don't know. But you should talk to Harriet about it.”
I tugged on the strap of my purse over my shoulder and gave him a smile . “Harold it was very nice meeting you. And you can be sure I will talk to Harriet tomorrow.”
TWENTY NINE
Jake handed me the beer. “Okay. Talk.”
I'd gotten home after stopping at Data Dork and the store and , true to his word, Jake had dinner ready, save for the sauce that he needed to heat up. Fifteen minutes later, he had spaghetti, garlic bread and a salad on the table, in the middle of yakking jabbering , starving children. I ate and listened, smiling occasionally, laughing a couple of times. Brenda had taken the kids on a field trip to the chiropractor's office and Grace told me all about the padded tables and the pictures of bones hanging up on the walls. Will rolled his eyes and announced the doctor wasn't really a doctor because he didn't have a medical degr ee but Sophie and Grace ignored him and thrusted coupons for a wellness check in my direction .
I smiled and tucked them into my pocket but I didn't ask questions and I didn't engage as much as I usually did. But I was tired, beaten down and more than a little frustrated. My level of involvement at dinner was far less than usual. The kids didn't pick up on it, but Jake did and he hustled me away from the table as soon as dinner was over , telling me he'd take care of the dishes and clean-up. I rarely took him up on it, but this time I did. I took a long hot shower, laid on the bed upstairs then, clad in my pajamas and slippers, snuggled with the two younger kids and listened while they read books out loud to each other and to me.
By the time nine o'clock rolled around, the kids were ready for bed and I was while he played games with the kids and got them ready for bed and smiled at him whe ready for some alone time with Jake. n he He tucked the kids into bed, then joined me in our bedroom came to bed , holding with a an opened bottle of beer.
The man knew me better than I'd ever been known. well.
I held the beer and took a long swallow before handing it back to him. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Dinner. Occupying the kids Tucking the kids in . The beer.”
“Oh. Those.” He smiled. “Anytime.”
“I'll remember that.”
“I'm a very capable house-husband at times,” he said, taking his own drink from the beer.
“More than capable.”
“Now that we've established how awesome I am,” he said, handing me back the beer. “Talk.”
“ I don't know if you'll want to listen.”
“ Try me.”
I threw my head back on the pillow and gripped the beer with both hands. I then laid out my day for him in painstaking detail, from Harriet waiting for me in the morning to Harold's revelation before I got home. Half of the beer was gone by the time I finished.
“Whoa,” he said, reaching for the beer when I was done . He swallowed a mouthful. “And I thought I had a full day ? . ”
“ Yeah, s S eriously,” I said. “Who knew volunteering was going to be so awful?”
“ Me.” He grinned and took a drink and set the bottle on the nightstand. “So . L , l et's look at all of this step by step.”
“Oh great. Let's re - live it a third time.”
“Relax,” he said. “I meant to see if we can find some solutions.”
“There are no solutions,” I whined. told him.
“Issue number one,” he said, ignoring me. “Your sign-ups actually sound pretty good. Even if you didn't get another one, the show could run with fifteen . Correct?”
“It doesn't seem like enough.”
“It doesn't seem like enough because it isn't the number you wanted,” he said. “But , in fact, if you think plan for that each act might to be on stage for an average of five minutes, you have enough for at least a ninety minute show when you f . D on't forget to f actor in transitions and a fantastic emcee making who will make great jokes and enterta ining in the crowd.”
I smiled a him. “Yeah, but where will I find that guy?” I asked.
He grabbed my arm and squeezed playfully. “Any more questions like that and you'll actually have to go find one,” he said. “ Now isn't the time for jokes. Face it. You need me.”
“I always need you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said , waving a hand in the air. “But now you need me in a tux and at my witty best.”
“I suppose that's true.”
“Right,” he said. “So, I get that you're frustrated about the counselor and the president not being there, but, in truth, it all honesty, it really doesn't harm the show.”
“No, it just pisses me off,” I said, annoyed. “ Charlotte, I'm disappointed about Charlotte because she's I consider her my friend, but I understand. She can't change her tournament or whatever it is. But what in the world could Bingledorf have going on that she's backing out? I mean, that doesn't even seem fair.”
“Well, it seems she may have a lot going on,” Jake offered. “Which brings us to issue number two.”
“Her leaving Prism?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Actually, let's backtrack to issue number one and a half,” he said. “Can we finally admit that I've been right all along about this school being a total freaking sham? With an administration that has no clue what it's doing and teachers that have no business being in the classroom? Can we just admit I've been right so I can pat myself on the back?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Congratulations. Because that's the important thing right now.”
He smiled. “Thank you. I feel better. Okay. On to issue number two and Bingledorf's supposed move to greener pastures. I have to ask . W – w ould that really be such a bad thing at this point, given what you've seen and learned this week?”
“No, probably not,” I said admitted . I grabbed the blanket at the edge of the bed and pulled it up over my legs. “But the way she came at me about this stupid fundraiser, with all of the urgency and everything. W ..w hy would she do that if she's leaving? Why make such a big deal about it if she's on her way out?”
“Just because she might be leaving doesn't mean she doesn't care about the school or what's happened,” Jake said, sounding ridiculously reasonable. “Think about it this way . I : i f she is leaving, is there a better way to go out then after you've put together something that helps the school? There's a lot of potential goodwill there.”
“I'm the one putting it together,” I said. told him.
“You know what I mean. Just because she might be leaving for another position or for whatever doesn't mean she wants to leave the school in a lurch.”
“But how can a principal president leave her school in the middle of the school year?”
“Technically, it's still the beginning of the year,” Jake said. “It's not the middle. But who knows? We , in fact, really don't know anything about what she might be doing other than the husband of a PTA mom says shared a rumor that she's leaving.” He shrugged. “A lot of room for misunderstanding when the line between the tin cans stretches tight.”
“Give me the beer back,” I said. “And stop sounding so rational.”
He chuckled and handed me the b eer ottle . “And I'm sorry. You know how I feel about people leaving jobs. As long as they do it in a professional manner, no one should ever take crap for leaving a job. Ever.”
We'd had that discussion plenty of times. He always got frustrated with his colleagues at the recycling plant when someone gave their notice and people co-workers got their noses bent out of joint upset , as if they all were somehow contractually bound to stay there forever. He would always argue that if a person needed or wanted to leave, they should be allowed to without taking any flack for it. Why would you want to keep a person who didn't want to stay anyway, regardless of their reason? He always went out of h
is way to tell anyone that who was leaving that he'd miss them, but he was happy that they'd found a better opportunity.
Normally, I tended to agree with him, but this felt different. Probably because I was taking it personally.
I took a drink from the swallowed another mouthful of beer. “Still . I , I feel like teaching and school is a little different.”
“You don't know the circumstances, Daisy,” he reminded me. “You don't know anything other than what you've heard – and you haven't heard anything from Bingledorf.”
I frowned at him. “I thought you were here to comfort here me and make me feel better.”
“I am. ” He smiled. “ Is it not working?”
“Not particularly.”
“Are there rules here?”
I pointed the neck of the bottle at him. “Yes. Just agree and tell me I'm right and justified in all my whining.”
“Hmm. ” His fingers trailed up my arm and I shivered. “ I'm not sure those rules help the situation.”
“You're trying to help me.”
He sighed and slipped his arm beneath me, hugging me closer to him. “Alright. I wi ' ll stop making sense.”
I punched tapped him lightly in the stomach. “Stop.”
“I just said I would.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Moving on to issue number three,” he said. “Do you want to say anything about the computer teacher who is no n' t really a computer teacher?”
I'd thought plenty about that already and I'd already decided. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I believe him,” I explained . , thinking back to my conversatio n with Miles Riggler. “I really think believe he thought he'd have a semester to learn what he needed to learn and the wires just go crossed. And I think he's scrambling to learn what he needs to get caught up . The poor guy probably isn't sleeping at all.”
