Return to Appleton

by Sylvia Bambola

  It was clever of Gloria to change the subject, but since it concerned Virginia, Geri allowed it, especially since she had been worrying about Virginia lately and had no one else to talk to about it.

  “I’m worried about her, Gloria. She doesn’t look at all well. And Virginia’s never taken to her bed this long. Sometimes … well, sometimes I think Virginia does it—feels sick, I mean—when she’s irritated with Cutter. His moving out really put her over the edge. But that was a while ago, and I expected her to be over it by now.” Geri felt a moment of panic. Maybe she shouldn’t have revealed Virginia’s tactics to Gloria; after all, there were some things children shouldn’t know about their mothers, or about someone else’s mother, either. She studied Gloria’s face, and when she failed to see shock or horror or disgust, she cleared her throat.

  “Anyway … I never expected Virginia to stay in her room this long. I know Dr. Grant has run all kinds of tests. He checked everything imaginable when you were in Eckerd, remember when I told you?” Geri waited for Gloria to nod before continuing. “That’s when she took to her bed the first time over Cutter leaving home. But that lasted only two weeks. Virginia claims Dr. Grant found nothing, either in those tests he did last year or now. But … I’m starting to worry.”

  “Why don’t you try to see her as much as possible? That might lift Virginia’s spirits.”

  Geri couldn’t get over how Gloria was calling Mrs. Press Virginia. She would have made more of a fuss if Gloria hadn’t said it was Virginia’s idea. Though Geri could hardly imagine such a thing. The whole situation irritated her.

  She scanned the menu, trying to take her mind off Gloria’s impertinence. “Oh, for Pete’s sake … this menu’s in French. Pôchouse? Now, what’s that? Where are the sandwiches? The tuna? Or chicken salad? Or turkey club?”

  Her irritation was mounting by the minute, and when the waitress came to take their order, she couldn’t keep from snapping at her like a crusty old turtle. “How am I supposed to know what I want? It’s impossible to read this without a translator! Would you kindly tell me what this is? Croque-madame à cheval?”

  The waitress told her it was a hot ham-and-cheese sandwich with a fried egg on top, and Geri was certain she heard disdain in her voice.

  “Well, why doesn’t it just say so?” Geri didn’t see the look of embarrassment that usually clouded Gloria’s face whenever she behaved this way. What was making her daughter act so strangely? “Okay. Just give me that croque thing,” she muttered, then listened to Gloria calmly rattle off her order.

  If Gloria wanted to act so calm about everything, so above it all, then maybe this was a good time to bring up Clancy County Home for the Aged. “I’ve come across a nice nursing home,” she said after the waitress left.

  Suddenly, Gloria didn’t look so above it all. Her face contorted with a frown, and her eyes flashed something her mother could identify only as determination. “Mother, we’re not going to put Grandma into—”

  “If we act quickly, we can get one of the few beds that are left.” Well … she could be determined too.

  “I won’t do it, Mother. I just won’t do it.”

  “It’s not up to you, Gloria. And I don’t need your permission. But it would make the whole process easier if you were more supportive.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t help you. I won’t help you. Not in this. Grandma doesn’t need a nursing home. There are other alternatives we could look into.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like that retirement community I already told you about, right off Route 485. A lot of Grandma’s friends already live there, and they like it too. We could look for a small condo. I understand they take care of everything: the lawn, the shrubs, and even snow removal in the winter.”

  Geri twisted the expensive white linen napkin on her lap like a rope. “You honestly believe your grandmother is capable of living by herself?”

  “Yes.”

  Geri didn’t think Gloria looked convinced. “I see.” The napkin twisted tighter. “And you won’t even come with me to check out Clancy County?”

  “No.”

  Geri squared her shoulders. Slowly, patiently, she smoothed out the twisted napkin with her fingers, removed it from her lap and carefully folded it, then placed it alongside her empty plate. “Then I don’t think we have anything more to discuss.” She rose to her feet.

  “Mother, what are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Mother, don’t be like that. Please sit down, and let’s discuss this like adults.”

  “I’ve already said everything I’m going to say. It’s obvious you have only disdain for my opinion on this matter, and quite frankly I don’t care for yours, either.”

  “But your lunch, Mother … you haven’t eaten. At least stay and eat your lunch.”

  “You eat it. I’ve lost my appetite.” Geri pushed her heavy high backed chair out of the way, then gave her daughter one last disapproving look. “And for your information, I don’t like your hair all pulled back into a ponytail like that. And your outfit could have been more thought-out—less thrown together. But what I really, really dislike is the idea of you calling Mrs. Press Virginia.” She spun around and walked out of the fancy-schmantzy restaurant she didn’t think Gloria could afford and headed for her car in the parking lot. And all the way home, she chastised herself worse than she had ever chastised Gloria. Why couldn’t she handle things better with Gloria? Why were they always at odds? And why did she always seem to come out looking like the bad guy?

  It wasn’t until Geri spotted her white picket fence and pulled into the drive that she realized she had left Gloria stranded at La Fontaine without a car. Well … let her find a ride home. But even as Geri had that thought, she was backing out of the driveway. It took her forty minutes to drive back to New Canterbury, another five to park her gold Volvo and walk to the restaurant, and another forty-five minutes to reverse the whole process when she found out Gloria had already left in a Four-Towns taxi.

  “Sorry to call on a Sunday, but it’s been 24/7 around here.” Cutter sat on the expensive black leather sofa in his rental home listening to the excited voice of Sam Bryce spiral through the phone.

  “Took on just a few too many cases this month. But yours is the most interesting, I must admit. Anyway, got a match on your Santa Claus. The name’s Wendell Holt, but he goes by the name of Benny. Don’t ask me why. No jail time, but he’s had a few brushes with the law. Picked up once on bribery charges, but the case never went to trial, and the charges were dropped. And he was picked up once for possession of marijuana, but the police lost the evidence and had to let him go. Hardly a Dillenger wannabe.”

  “I thought you said this case was interesting.” Cutter felt annoyed for allowing himself to go down another blind alley.

  “It gets better. You know what Benny did for a living? He was a professional agitator. One of those guys who comes into an area and starts making noise about some issue or other and then continues to ratchet up the rhetoric until he’s got everyone in a frenzy.”

  “So he’s a picketer?”

  “A paid picketer. There’s a difference.”

  “Who was he working for?”

  “So far I can only trace him back to Terra Firma, but I’m sure he’s worked for other groups. I’ll keep digging. Unless, of course, this is enough for you.”

  Cutter rose from the couch and paced across his friend’s expensive Oriental rug. “No. Keep at it.”

  “Fine. You know where to send the check.”

  Cutter powered off the phone and placed it on its cradle, feeling more hopeful than he had in a long time. Maybe this wasn’t a dead end, after all. Maybe Sam Bryce would dig up some information that could help Cutter get The Lakes out from under the thumb of the environmentalists, and then he and his partners could finally, finally build.

  Cutter was a full fifteen minutes early for his appointment with Clive McGreedy. Off to the side, near the barn, Cutte
r saw the ‘97 blue Ford Escort with the handwritten For Sale sign propped on the windshield right under one of the wiper blades. He got out of his car and sauntered over.

  There was a walnut-size dent on the left bumper, but the rest of the body was perfect. He peered into the window and saw the spotless interior, the pristine gray dashboard and gray fabric-covered seats. He was pleased to see that the cruise controls were mounted on the steering wheel, along with the airbag. The radio was stock, though—AM/FM and cassette deck, not like his aftermarket radio and monitor connected to a PS/2 for DVDS. The econobox-type rubber shift boot was stock too, but he was sure Gloria wouldn’t care either way. Finally, he checked the tires. All new. The car was a bargain at thirty-five hundred. Clive could get four thousand for it, easily. But Cutter would try to drive the price down, for Gloria’s sake, because this car was perfect for her. She was sure to love it.

  Once he got her to take it, that is.

  Cutter thought of turning back a dozen times. And even when he headed down the alley beside Sam Hidel’s Grocery and stopped next to the old red Schwinn, he was still thinking that it wasn’t too late to change his mind. He didn’t have to see his steering wheel to know it was covered with sweat.

  This was just plain crazy. Whatever had made him do it?

  It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. A great way to get Gloria to notice him. Now he saw it as a great way to get her good and mad. Even so, he turned off the ignition and got out. He had come this far. Might as well see it through, even if it made him look like a fool.

  He walked slowly to the door, half fearing Gloria wasn’t home, half fearing she was. Then he tapped lightly on the door. When it opened, all he could do was stand silently, like an errant student before the principal.

  “Cutter? What … brings you here?”

  “I have a surprise.” He leaned against the door frame, as much for support as to assume a casual air he didn’t feel. “But you’ve got to promise you won’t get mad.”

  “I can’t do that. I’ve seen your surprises before—the worms in the cupcakes you baked for my tenth birthday; the skates you let me borrow, but not before you loosened the wheels; the—”

  “Okay, okay. I was a miserable kid. But it’s not that kind of surprise. I promise.” Cutter watched Gloria shrug, watched her ponytail swing behind her, and thought how he liked her hair this way. How attractive she looked.

  “Okay, you’ve got my interest. Come in.” She smiled a big, sunny smile that made Cutter’s neck bead with perspiration. “I’ll get us something to drink. Coke, coffee, tea? What?”

  “Coke is good.” Cutter followed Gloria into the small living room and sat when she gestured with her hand.

  “And how about something to eat? I have a leftover ham-and-cheese sandwich I’m looking to unload … a La Fontaine original. Mother and I went there for lunch today, and she left early.”

  Cutter was surprised to see a twinkle in her eye. “Oh, one of those lunches. Sure … bring it on. I’ll take it off your hands.” Cutter was beginning to feel more relaxed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

  “So what’s the surprise?” Gloria asked, when she returned with a tray. “And, so help me, you’re going to wear this sandwich if it’s anything stupid.”

  Cutter chuckled, thinking how much Gloria had changed, and yet how much she was still the same spunky kid he had grown up with until her mother had crushed her. “You know my eye still hurts where you punched it.”

  Gloria placed the tray on the coffee table. From it, she took a tall glass of water. The sandwich and Coke remained for Cutter. To his surprise, she sat on the couch next to him instead of choosing the overstuffed chair.

  “You gave me my first black eye, my very first. I thought it would be one of the other guys; you know, Tommy Mulligan, Tony Bonjorno, one of them. It was hard to live down. I really got razzed … getting punched like that by a girl. Sort of hurt the old ego.”

  “Well, that was an awful crack you made about my legs. Telling me they were the best legs you’d ever seen on a frog. I suppose I overreacted. I shouldn’t have punched you like that. Is it too late to say I’m sorry?”

  Cutter picked up the sandwich and grinned. “No need. I didn’t say I didn’t deserve the punch. I just didn’t expect it. But that was one of the things I always liked about you, Gloria. Your spunk.”

  “Really?” Gloria seemed genuinely surprised.

  The sandwich looked good, and Cutter took a man-sized bite. “It really bothered me when you stopped fighting back,” he said, when his mouth was no longer full. “When you let your mother, me, all of us, get to you.” Her sweet, stunned face made his heart thump.

  “You were such a … such a …”

  “Bully? Yeah, I was. And obnoxious. And stupid. I actually believed I was doing you a favor—actually thought if I teased you enough, you’d fight back. I thought I could keep you from losing your grit. But I only made things worse. Like I said, I was stupid.”

  “That’s the second time this week a Press told me I had grit.” Gloria put her glass on the tray. “I only wish you had talked to me like this years ago. It might have made life more pleasant for both of us.”

  Taking another bite of the sandwich gave Cutter time to decide what to say. Bluster and pressure and manipulation hadn’t worked with Gloria. Maybe the truth would. “I always wished we had been better friends. Hindsight tells me I made that impossible. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. It would have been nice having a friend who understood … about my mother.”

  Gloria nodded. “Yes …”

  “We both had nightmare mothers who kept the pressure on so tight, it’s a wonder we didn’t break. And I guess we coped in our own ways too.”

  Gloria tilted her head as though thinking. Then peace drifted over her face like a shaft of sunlight drifting over a long-neglected corner of a garden. “You know, I never thought about that before. But you’re right. We did cope in different ways. I wonder why I never saw it. I mean, it’s really so simple and basic, and doesn’t take a psychology major to understand that you coped one way, I another. I became introverted. You became …”

  “Obnoxious?” He studied Gloria’s face to see if she would confirm his last word with a smirk, but her expression was so sweet, so full of compassion, it made him want to cry. “I don’t know why I’m saying all this now. Maybe so you don’t try to sock me again when I show you the surprise.”

  “I’m sorry, Cutter. Really sorry.”

  “For what? Socking me?”

  “For all the years I’ve misjudged you, held you in—”

  “Contempt?”

  Gloria laughed. “Well … not in the highest esteem. And I was wrong.”

  “Does that mean you think we can be friends now?”

  “We can try.”

  Cutter put the fragment of sandwich remaining in his hand back on the plate and rose to his feet. Then he dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a key and a folded sheet of paper. “With that in mind, I brought you this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Clive’s old car and a payment schedule of two hundred dollars a month, based on a thousand-dollar deposit.”

  “What?”

  “I know why you don’t have the money to buy it outright. Pearl Owens has got that bit of news plastered all over town. And I don’t expect you to let any false pride get in the way either. I just expect you to take it and say thank you.” Cutter saw red streaks run up Gloria’s cheeks and held his breath. It could go either way. But if she was half the woman he thought she was, it would end okay.

  “How did you get Clive to agree to stretch out the payments?” she asked. Cutter thought it was from between clenched teeth.

  “I didn’t. I bought the car. You’re making the payments to me.”

  “What?”

  “Clive’s car is a bargain, Gloria. It’s a perfect size for you, four-door, only seven years old, only fifty thousand miles, in mint condition. Another week a
nd it would’ve been gone. So I saw you could use a little help here and stepped in, just like a friend would.”

  “Are you utterly out of your mind? Do you think I can let you do this? You have more gall than—I mean, the nerve of—” Gloria stopped, looked at Cutter for a long time, then burst out laughing. “I must be out of my mind. Turning down a deal like this.”

  “You mean you’ll take it?”

  Gloria nodded. Cutter could see she was having trouble containing herself and looked almost as if she was going to jump up and down. “Can I see it?” she asked, joy lighting her eyes like sparklers.

  “Sure, it’s in your driveway. I thought we could—” Gloria was already out the door and all over the Escort, checking the tires, running her hands along the gleaming blue exterior, sitting behind the steering wheel, fingering the seat fabric, opening the glove compartment, then opening the trunk, the hood, checking the oil …

  “Well, what do you think?” Cutter said when Gloria had stopped swarming over the car.

  “It’s wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Thank you. Thank you so much!” Then she did something unexpected. She threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. And as Cutter stood awkwardly, returning her hug, he thought that she was every bit the woman he’d thought she was, and more.

  So much more.

  Chapter Ten

  GLORIA HEADED FOR 52 Elm Street, taking the long way just so she could enjoy driving her new car. She went south on Main passing Baker, then Union, then the three-story brick building of Appleton High. Two teenage boys dribbled a basketball in the dusky parking lot. A handful of others hovered under a light near a parked car. Sweaty T-shirts clung to their young, muscular shoulders. Looked like Gloria wasn’t the only one working late—practice must have gone on longer than usual. But aside from the boys, the whole area, including the street and sidewalk, was deserted.

  She slowed the car over the tracks grooving Railroad Avenue and laughed to herself when she caught sight of Eats Galore. Maybe she should have gotten a bite there instead of going all the way back to her apartment after work. Well, next time.