Diedre’s husband, Matt Delvecchio, had been Kay’s first boyfriend. They had started going together in 7th grade, which meant Matt carried her books, hung out by her locker between classes, and talked to her on the phone for hours every evening. The devoted Kay sat in the stands to watch Matt play football and baseball, and beamed up at him as he pinned a corsage on her dress before every school dance.
There were no cell phones or Internet back then. Computers were business machines that took up whole rooms and calculators represented the most sophisticated technology they used. Both were children of strict parents and as such were never allowed to be alone together.
By his senior and her junior year, they had made plans: after she graduated they would get married and have a bunch of kids. He would work in the family business; she would stay home and be a full-time mother and homemaker. Although her parents were not happy about it, she agreed to convert to Catholicism, and had begun taking R.C.I.A. classes at Sacred Heart. They were as committed to each other as teenagers could be, and they were also committed to waiting until they were married to have sex.
In the spring semester of her junior year, Kay contracted Mononucleosis and missed a month of school. During that time little Diedre Brennan got her braces removed, traded her thick glasses for contact lenses, had her hair frosted, and bought a padded push-up bra. Even after all that devoted abstaining, it had not been difficult to seduce Matthew. Kay had no doubts about who was the aggressor; Diedre had rubbed her nose in it.
But Matthew could have said, “No.”
Kay cooked Sonny a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and hot coffee. He took his boots off on the front porch before he came inside. He seemed to tower over everything in Kay’s tiny cottage, and took up every bit of one side of the breakfast nook. He tucked his napkin in the neck of his coveralls, and ate with gusto.
Kay sat on the other side of the booth, sipped her tea, and enjoyed watching him eat with such pleasure.
“This is so good,” he said. “I can’t tell you the last time I had a breakfast like this. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”
“I enjoy cooking and baking,” Kay said, “as anyone can plainly see.”
“Don’t you put yourself down,” Sonny said, while pointing his fork at her. “You’re just as pretty as you were in high school. Besides, I like a womanly woman.”
Sonny’s eyes twinkled mischievously. Kay felt herself flush with both embarrassment and pleasure.
“My little brother was an idiot to let you get away,” Sonny said.
“That was a hundred years ago,” Kay said.
“If I hadn’t had the stupid idea that it was wrong to go after my brother’s girl, I would have snagged you for myself.”
Kay remembered Sonny as a tall, athletic teenager who was loud and boisterous with his friends but awkward and shy around girls. He had always gone out of his way to be kind to her over the years, and she was always glad to see him. He was the kind of person you could call in the middle of a freezing winter night because your furnace had quit working and he would arrive within minutes, tool box in hand, a good-natured-smile on his sleepy face.
“Things have a way of turning out like they ought to,” Kay said.
“His wife’s crazier than a bee-stung bobcat,” he said. “You should see their house.”
“I’ve heard there’s a bit of a clutter issue.”
“I don’t know how he lives with her,” he said. “She smokes like a fiend, she won’t cook or clean, and she’s trashed that house. She doesn’t care about her daughter or her grandkids; can’t be bothered to help my mother, even when my dad’s so sick ...”
“But doesn’t she help out at the store?”
“She runs the cash register two afternoons per week, with plenty of smoke breaks,” he said. “But just between you and me and this breakfast here, she also helps herself to the cash.”
“That’s terrible! What does she say when you confront her about it?”
“I never have,” he said. “I just quit giving her paychecks; I figure she takes what she thinks she’s owed. I don’t need another reason to fight with her.”
“Can’t you talk to Matt about it?”
“Matt and me were never what you’d call close to begin with,” he said with a shrug. “Plus he thinks I’m going straight to hell for being divorced.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Kay got up and retrieved second helpings of everything for Sonny.
“Do you ever hear from your ex-wife?”
“Karla only calls when she wants something,” he said. “I gave her the house, the car, and everything we had in savings, but that boyfriend of hers is out of work, and he owes child support for the three kids from his second marriage. They’re living in a big house on the golf course down by the Cheat River, which is the perfect place for those two, if you think about it. They’re both driving luxury cars and taking expensive vacations; meanwhile I’m living over the store and driving a ten-year-old truck.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Kay said. “How’re your girls handling it?”
“They’re still not talking to her,” he said. “I tell them ‘She’s your mother, you should treat her with respect no matter what fool thing she does,’ but they can’t get over it.”
“It will get better with time.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still pretty mad about it, and it’s been three years.”
“It doesn’t sound like she’s any happier,” Kay said. “Maybe she’ll come back.”
“What’s done is done,” Sonny said, shaking his head. “She broke my heart, bled me dry, and sacrificed our family. You can’t undo a thing like that. I may have to forgive her, because God says I have to, but I will never forget what she did, and I will never give her the chance to do it again.”
“Maybe you’ll meet someone else,” Kay said. “You’re only what, fifty-four, fifty-five?”
“You keep on cooking like this and I’ll be back on your porch every morning like a stray dog.”
“You’re good company,” Kay said. “Come over any time.”
“You shouldn’t have fed me,” he said. “I’m not kidding.”
He smiled at her and she felt a ripple of something run through her body; it had been a while, but Kay could still remember what it felt like to be attracted to someone who was flirting with her.
“Nice little place you got here,” he said, as he looked around. “Built in the 30s probably, and solid as a rock, but with the original plumbing and electric. You got anything needs worked on?”
“Now that you mention it,” Kay said, “my toilet’s been running nonstop for over a month. I had Elbie come look at it, and he did something to it, said it needed a part, but I expect he’s forgotten about it.”
“I’ve fixed plenty of Elbie’s handiwork over the years,” Sonny said. “I’ll look at it.”
Kay washed the dishes while Sonny looked at the toilet. When he returned he was shaking his head. He held up the paperclip and rubber band that had been holding things together.
“This evening I’ll bring over the part you need,” he said. “Please just call me next time you need something fixed. Elbie has good intentions but he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing.”
“I appreciate it,” Kay said. “I know how busy you are.”
“I’d like to get up in your crawl space,” he said.
“I beg your pardon,” Kay said.
“I bet you don’t have near enough insulation under the house, in the walls, or up in the attic.”
“Probably not,” Kay said. “I just haven’t had the money to do all the work that’s needed. Right now every extra penny I have is going to pay Sean Fitzpatrick for legal work, and he’s giving me a huge discount.”
“It seems to me you shouldn’t have to pay to protect yourself when Machalvie and Rodefeffer are the ones who broke the law.”
“They’d love to make me the scapegoat,�
�� she said. “Sean’s just making sure they can’t.”
The former mayor of Rose Hill and the former bank president were being investigated for various schemes they were involved in, and as town administrator, Kay was being required to provide documents and information to federal agents.
“Sean’s a good boy,” Sonny said. “I wish my brother would quit trying to fool everybody and just be himself.”
“I didn’t know you knew about that,” Kay said.
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s just two people loving each other, and isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? The rest of the family doesn’t want to know; they’re happy for Anthony to keep pretending so they won’t be embarrassed.”
“It’s sad,” Kay said. “I hate to see anybody throw away the chance to be loved and be happy.”
“Who knows? Maybe they’ll work it out,” Sonny said. “Meanwhile, let’s get your house ready for winter.”
“But it’s only July,” Kay said.
“Which means we only have three months until the snow flies.”
“I really can’t afford it right now.”
“I’ll do a little at a time,” Sonny said. “We’ll work something out.”
Before he left, Sonny mowed the lawn and fixed a loose shutter.
As she got ready for work, Kay found herself singing a song that was stuck in her head. She laughed as she realized it was “Handyman,” by James Taylor. It felt good to have someone so competent concern himself about her house. His compliments toward her and her cooking had been sweet as well.
‘He’s one of the few eligible heterosexual men of a certain age left in this town,’ she thought. ‘It probably doesn’t mean anything, but why not enjoy it?’
Kay stopped by the post office to pick up the mail for City Hall as well as her own. Diedre’s sister, Sadie, was the postmistress. Even though she knew how much animosity Diedre felt toward Kay, she was still friendly. She asked about Kay’s foster daughter, Grace.
“Grace and her friend, Tommy, went on vacation with my friend Jane and her son,” Kay said. “I guess they’re having such a good time they don’t want it to end.”
“That poor child deserves some happiness after the life she’s had,” Sadie said. “Jacob Branduff was a mean old coot.”
“Jane has been wonderful to her,” Kay said.
“Jane’s still young and energetic,” Sadie said. “She can keep up with them. Plus she understands all that social media stuff they do. Not like me and you. Give us a comfy chair and a good book and we’re happy.”
Kay felt a pang at that. It so closely mirrored her insecure feelings about doing what was best for Grace. She worried that she was too old to be a good mother to her, and that Grace would suffer because of it.
In addition to one addressed to Grace, there was an envelope addressed to Kay from a bank in Pittsburgh, where Grace’s family trust account was held. Curious, she stood outside on the sidewalk in front of the post office and opened hers. It was a check made out to her for what was to Kay an enormous amount of money. On the attached stub was written, “Third quarter child care expenses.”
Kay felt a little light-headed. She slid the check back in the envelope and tucked it down into her quilted tote. She would call them when she got to work. Surely this was a mistake.
But it was no mistake.
“That’s the amount you’ll be paid quarterly to cover all expenses related to Grace’s care,” the trust officer informed her. “You can use it for your mortgage payment, home improvements, a car, food, clothing, school supplies; anything that goes toward Grace’s comfort and well-being. Just keep your receipts for your accountant and we’ll send you a 1099 after the first of the year.”
“Can I pay her an allowance out of it?” Kay asked.
“Grace will have her own check every quarter,” he said. “You should have received that, as well.”
Altogether, the quarterly expense checks would add up to more than Kay made in a year. She’d have Grace for at least two more years, until she graduated from high school. Kay thought of all the things she could do with the money during that time. All those little things that needed to be done to the house, the list of which at times seemed overwhelming compared to her meager salary.
She could get a new roof, have the foundation repaired, and replace her old, cantankerous appliances. She could turn up the heat in the winter and not worry about the utility bills. Heck, she could get a new, more energy-efficient furnace. She could buy a new car with all-wheel-drive, so, come winter, she wouldn’t slide all over the place in her old clunker with the starter that was beginning to act up.
Everything could be taken care of with this money.
Ashamed of her selfish thoughts, Kay reminded herself that this was actually Grace’s money, to be used to make her comfortable, healthy, and safe, but her initial feeling of excitement could not be quelled. It felt as if she’d won the lottery.
One problem was that she didn’t want to deposit the check in the local bank; within the hour everyone in town would know about it. She would have to consult with Sean about what to do. As a mayoral candidate, she didn’t want to be found to be hiding anything, yet she wanted to hide it!
It’s amazing what having some newly found financial security could do for one’s mood. Kay felt like a weight she hadn’t known she was carrying had been lifted. Between the breakfast with Sonny and the check she’d received, Kay was feeling something she hadn’t felt in a while – hopeful.
The Pine County prosecutor stopped by City Hall to gossip with Kay, and shared some confidential information about Jared “Jumbo” Lawson, the boy who had vandalized her house.
“He’s going to plead guilty to the lesser charge of vandalism,” he said, “in exchange for us dropping the hate crime charges. He’s more likely to get into college with what looks like a youthful indiscretion rather than a terrorist act.”
“Will he receive any counseling?” Kay asked.
“Community service,” he said.
“It’s a pity,” Kay said. “What the boy actually needs is some mental health assistance.”
“It’s been my experience that you can’t counsel the bigotry out of a person,” he said. “If someone feels justified in their actions, it’s almost impossible to convince them they’re wrong. Jumbo’s not likely to change anytime soon, not in any meaningful way.”
“He’ll just get bigger,” Kay said, “and more dangerous.”
“He’ll be in trouble again before too long,” he said. “I spent some time in a room with him. He’s about as dumb as he is angry.”
“His poor mother,” Kay said.
“Marigold’s still determined to run for mayor, I hear,” he said. “Should be a cakewalk for you.”
“I feel sorry for her,” Kay said.
“I’ve spent some time in a room with her as well,” he said. “If you ask me, he’s a chip off the old block.”
Later on, Chief Lawrence Purcell, known as “Laurie,” the man serving as temporary chief of police while the current chief was on a much-deserved vacation/honeymoon, stopped by her office and plopped into a chair in front of her desk. He was a tall, loose-limbed man with a care-worn face and sad blue eyes.
“Hello, Chief Purcell,” she said. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“I’m bored, Kay,” he said. “Nothing ever seems to happen in this town. Where are the drug dealers and blackmailers I was promised?”
“You caught us during a lull,” Kay said. “The college students are off for the summer and the tourists are staying up on top of the mountain, where it’s cooler.”
“I need something to do,” he said. “Starsky and Hutch play on their phones all day, when they aren’t eating massive quantities of food, or sleeping. I feel like the father of two teenage boys.”
Kay assumed he was referring to deputies Frank and Skip.
“They’re nice boys,” she said. “Don’t be too hard on them.”
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“Don’t you have any deep suspicions you’d like me to follow up on?” he asked. “Isn’t there somebody you’d like me to haul in for questioning?”
“Someone did paint my house this morning,” she said.
“That was probably an angel,” Laurie said, “rewarding you for being so good.”
“You’ve only got one week until you start your new job in Pendleton,” Kay said. “Consider yourself lucky.”
“I’m telling you I need some crime, Kay,” he said. “I’m going soft. Those crafty crooks in Pendleton will eat me alive if I don’t exercise my deductin’ and detectin’ skills.”
“Be careful what you ask for.”
“I’m also a little sick of pizza,” he said. “PJ’s is good, but not as a steady diet.”
“There’s a perfectly good diner at the end of the next block,” she said. “Plus there’s the Mountain Laurel Depot.”
“I saw the diner menu; there were several words on it I didn’t understand,” he said. “What is chervil and why do I want it in my fingerling potato salad? Plus, the word ‘fingerling’ is unappetizing to me. Why doesn’t anybody fry chicken anymore?”
“They serve fried chicken at the Depot.”
“I ate their greasy spoon special my first day on the job,” he said. “I paid for it all night.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“Fried chicken,” he said, “mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, dinner rolls the size of a cat’s head, and all-American apple pie.”
“I think I can handle that,” she said. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?”
“Excellent,” he said. “I’m not the greatest company, but if you have a piano I will gladly play for my supper.”
“I don’t have a piano,” she said. “How about I invite some people to entertain you?”
“Shady people,” he said. “Make sure they have a lot to hide.”
“I’ll do my best,” Kay said.
When Kay went home for lunch, she found several large rolls of pink insulation on her front porch and a note from Sonny that read: “Be back for dinner.”
Hollyhock Ridge Page 2
