by Lisa Smartt
“Yeah. I know that place. I walked to the barber shop and I would have passed right by you, yes?”
“Right. Speaking of the barber shop, I guess you got an earful of all the Sharon news there.”
“I don’t know enough people here to have understood half of what they were talkin’ about. But yeah, they do like to talk. That’s for sure.”
“I’ve lived here my whole life. It never really changes. Just the names change, I guess. Of course, you fixed all that, Matthew. Really. Some of the women’s groups should pay you for the excitement you’ve provided.”
He stared out the passenger window but I could still see him smiling. “I do what I can.”
“Of course, if you had a few more tattoos or piercings, it would have added some credibility to your story. Mabel is still not buying the bit that you were in prison. She said we’d be able to see it in your eyes.”
We were at the only stop sign in town, when he looked at me and said in a quiet voice, “See what?”
I could feel my face growing warmer. “I’m not sure really. You’ll have to ask Mabel. I guess she expected to see more, more pain, I guess.”
“And pain shows up in the eyes, huh?”
“According to Mabel it does.” I’m not sure why I said what I said next. But I’m glad I did. “How’s it been? Bein’ here in Sharon? The adjustments and all?”
We were sitting in front of Chester and Ida’s house now but he didn’t touch the car door handle. He looked at me again. “Are you asking what it feels like to spend fourteen years in prison and then move into Chester and Ida’s guest room?”
“I guess.”
He stared out the front window. “It feels like…like the way you feel when you’ve worked hard outside all day and someone brings you a glass of lemonade. Or like you’ve heard about the beach for years… and then one day you’re standing there, at the edge of the water…and you still can’t believe you’re there, able to put your feet in the water and everything.”
Something about his words and the way he said them almost brought me to tears. “Who knew Chester and Ida’s little guest room had so much power, huh?”
He chuckled, “Yeah. I’m convinced it’s that paisley velvet wallpaper.”
“You know how people always say, ‘If walls could talk…’ well, if Chester and Ida’s walls could talk, I think they’d reveal that not much has changed in that house. Probably pretty much the same routine every day for the last 50 years.”
He smiled. “They’re pretty set in their ways, yeah. But I like them. Both of them. No pretense.”
For some reason, I didn’t want him to touch that door handle. So I pulled a desperation move. “And how’s your work? You like workin’ for Dusty?”
“It’s Dusty. Who wouldn’t like working for him, right?” He tapped his fingers nervously on the door panel. “Dusty came to visit me a lot. Sent letters. Told me all along I’d have a job when I got out. But you know, people talk. Not Dusty though. He came through.”
“Oh, and what about your impending fame? From Chester and Ida’s paisley guest room to reality TV star, huh?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But I trust Dusty. I’ll probably do it if he wants to. Of course, that means everyone will find out…you know, find out more about me.”
“Carlie always says nothing good comes from secrets. Or something like that.”
“There aren’t secrets anymore anyway. Not really. Anybody can google my name. I figure some people already have.” He looked at me like he was asking a question. His eyes were so brown they looked black. His hands looked rough as he nervously moved them about. I wanted to touch them. Hold them.
“I haven’t.”
He reached into his pocket to retrieve his keys and then opened the door. He stepped out but stuck his head back in. “Maybe you should. Teachers shouldn’t be seen with known felons anyway, right?”
“I spend every day with third graders. Life can’t get more dangerous than that.”
He laughed. “Livin’ on the edge, huh? Maybe Shayla McGuire needs to talk to you about a reality show and leave Dusty and me alone.”
“For sure. Look, I know you’re new in town. So if you need anything, I mean, information or something about…something, anything.” I was drowning. “You can call me.”
“I don’t have a phone yet. But thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.”
“Oh, no problem. Bye!”
“Bye.”
He waved, turned and walked toward the front door. I realized now why I never tried to get Jim Faulkner’s attention. It was because of this feeling. The feeling of my face getting warm but the other guy walking away without my phone number. Without even caring. Matthew Prescott was 35 years old. He didn’t own a house, a car, or even a cell phone. He’d spent the last fourteen years in prison. A miserable flight risk, to be sure. Sadly, I didn’t care about his past any more than he cared about my present.
Chapter 14, SARAH: Carlie’s Right About Secrets
Of course, I did it. Anyone would have done it. I unlocked the front door and went straight to my laptop. Matthew Prescott. Nevada insurance salesman. No. 2004 Rigby High School Science award. No. Investment banker. Co-anchor Seattle morning news. No. No. Matthew Prescott. January 12, 2000, The Tennessean. Prescott Sentenced to 25 Years. Click.
The Tennessean-Tuesday morning Matthew Prescott, son of California software mogul, Jonathan Prescott, was sentenced to 25 years in prison for the deaths of his sister, 19-year-old Mary Prescott, and her roommate, 21-year-old Caroline Fitzgerald, both of San Diego, California. Both women were Vanderbilt students at the time of death.
In November of 1999 a jury found Prescott guilty of two counts of vehicular homicide related to a one-car accident on I-40. According to police reports, in the early morning hours of September 2, 1999, Prescott was driving a 1997 BMW at approximately 85 miles per hour when he hit a guard rail. Both women were ejected from the vehicle and declared dead on the scene. Prescott sustained a broken leg, broken arm, and a bruised rib. Hospital tests later revealed the presence of multiple prescription drugs in his system. His blood alcohol level was over the legal limit. Prescott’s license had been suspended four months earlier related to a DUI charge.
In a story that drew national attention, both of Prescott’s parents testified vigorously on behalf of the prosecution and later told reporters that their son’s drug use was out of control. A tearful Emilia Prescott told CNN reporter, Julie Hilton, “Matthew’s drug use was getting worse. He’d just flunked out of his first year of law school. But now his drug use has taken our beautiful baby girl. And we’ll never get her back. She’s gone forever. She never caused us one moment of sorrow. Never brought us anything but joy.”
Judge Mary Kathleen Baker sentenced 21-year-old Prescott on Tuesday morning in a courtroom filled with reporters and family members. He was immediately taken into custody and is expected to serve the majority of his sentence in Nashville. Reporters asked his father, Jonathan Prescott, for a comment as he exited the courtroom. He spoke three words. “Justice was served.”
I’m not sure what I’d expected to find when I went searching for Matthew Prescott’s name. But I hadn’t expected this. His tragic error in judgment hadn’t just cost him fourteen years of freedom. No. That was only a tiny part of the cost. He’d lost his sister. He’d even lost his parents. His life.
Chapter 15, CARLIE: What Have I Done? (Sadly, I Have To Ask This Question a Lot)
I agreed to ride with Ashley and Shayla to the Nashville airport. We wanted to take James and Collin to the Children’s Museum anyway, so it was perfect timing really. But first, Shayla requested a stop at Dusty’s Shop in Bradford.
Dusty was washing down the concrete floor with an old water hose when we got out of Ashley’s Escalade. He started laughing. “Let me guess. You gals and you two little fellas just happened to be in the neighborhood and you wanted to bring Matthew and me some doughnuts from Sally’s. Ol’ Sally makes a mean dou
ghnut. Sure does. Plus, we need to fatten Matthew up anyway. So bring ‘em on, ladies! Bring ‘em on.”
Shayla was wearing tight-fitting black jeans and a bright red t-shirt. Her high heeled sandals clicked on the pavement as she pulled out her pointer finger. “No doughnuts for you, Mister! We gotta keep both you guys looking slim. The camera adds twenty pounds! Remember?”
Dusty turned off the hose and walked toward us. Matthew walked up next to him. They both wore light blue work shirts with their names proudly emblazoned on the patch. Dusty spoke with zeal. “Oh, we’re all about image, Shayla. Yes, ma’am. It’s funny you should walk up ‘cause Matthew and I were just saying we needed to work on our social media business. Weren’t we, Matthew?”
“Uh, I think we were saying we needed to place an order for Pennzoil 30 weight today.”
Dusty laughed. “Oh yeah! That’s what it was. How can we help you ladies? Oil change? Tire rotation?”
Shayla smirked. “No. You can tell me that you’re willing to at least shoot a pilot. Look, that’s all we’re asking for. One 40-minute pilot. A crew comes here, spends a few days, and it’s over. I mean, what can that hurt? Right? We don’t even know the network will want it.”
Dusty looked more serious. “We’re open to it. We are. But we have a question. What kind of editing control do we have? What if we think the pilot makes us look like idiots and we want to pull the plug?”
“You’ll have the freedom to do that. But you won’t want to. I’ve tried to explain we’re not trying to do a Jersey Shore thing. Seriously. We want it to be inspirational and funny and real. It’s worth a try, right? I mean, if the folks in California decide it’s a go, I can tell Daddy to get the papers to you next week, yes?”
Dusty put his arm around Matthew. “What do ya think, brother? Think we should try our hand at the biz? Carlie and Ashley here are starting to think they’re the only ones worth makin’ a deal over. Let’s give ‘em a run for their money. What do ya say?”
Matthew smiled. “I’m in.”
Shayla jumped up and down like Publisher’s Clearing House people had arrived at her door with a dozen roses. “Yes! Oh, yes! You won’t regret this! You won’t!”
She shook Dusty’s hand but then reached up and kissed Matthew on the cheek. He tried to hide his embarrassment by turning to open the second garage door.
She spoke quickly as she turned to get in the front passenger seat. “Look, I’ve gotta catch a plane. But I’ll be in contact. I will. You guys have a great day. Oh, and stay away from the doughnuts.”
On the way to Nashville, Shayla talked non-stop about the project. “So, what do you think about Matthew? I mean, viewers are just going to eat him up, right?”
I patted her arm. “He’s a sweetheart alright.”
“He’s positively dreamy.”
Ashley spoke with an air of caution, “Shayla, you’re not…I mean, you don’t have a thing for Matthew, do ya?”
“Ashley! I’m a professional! Of course not! Just because I’m looking doesn’t mean I’m buying. But I’ve gotta admit he does have a certain presence. It’s a good thing I don’t live here or I might find myself tempted to mix business with pleasure.”
“Your last boyfriend was an investment banker who lived in Beverly Hills and looked like Orlando Bloom. And you’re saying now you’re interested in a car mechanic in Bradford, Tennessee? A car mechanic who was just released from prison?”
“No. I’m saying it’s tempting. And the whole ex-con thing, well, you’ve gotta be honest, girls.” She lowered her voice. “There’s a certain mystique to that. And that’s what I’m counting on.”
We dropped Shayla at the airport and part of me felt relieved. We spent most of the morning and early afternoon at the museum. The boys slept on the way home and I kept thinking about Shayla’s words. Was there really a mystique to Matthew’s years of imprisonment? And if the TV show took off, what complications would that bring? I started wondering if I’d made a horrible mistake by suggesting the show in the first place. I also wondered if Aunt Charlotte would be able to live without fried food. No woman on earth loved to crank up the Fry Daddy more than she did.
Chapter 16, CARLIE: (one month later) Aunt Charlotte Lost Three Pounds and Hollywood Came to Sharon
Aunt Charlotte acts like she’s lost 50 pounds. But she hasn’t. She’s lost three. Yep! Three pounds in four weeks. She told Uncle Bart she felt like a new woman. Uncle Bart said, “I don’t need me a new woman. I’m used to the old one.”
Collin and James have been in Kindergarten for two weeks now. Doug and I didn’t cry on the first day of school and neither did James. He was so excited about showing his teacher his Spiderman lunchbox, that he hardly noticed us slip out the door. And while James and Collin do sometimes cause a little bit of classroom mayhem, neither have been expelled from Sharon Elementary School. We count that as a win. Sarah swears up and down that Miss Molly testifies almost daily in the teacher’s lounge of their utmost adorableness.
Oh, and everything got worked out for the reality show too, or at least the pilot show. Shayla and the camera folks arrived two days ago. But it wasn’t a whole big crew of people. Shayla said the trend in reality shows is to make it look natural, like a college kid shot the footage on his phone or something. Chester asked Dusty if he could sit in the office at the shop every day during filming. Of course, Dusty agreed because no one likes to deny the requests of really old people. Do you want someone to say “yes” to something? All you have to do is send a really old person with the request. When people think someone will probably be dead within a year, they’ll agree to almost anything.
Everyone in town knows Matthew’s story now too. Herb Donaldson called in to the local morning radio show a few weeks ago, saying he remembered why Matthew’s name was so familiar. Then, right there on the air, he read an article he found on the internet. And that was that. Uncle Bart said it was good to get it all out in the open. But I think he was just relieved to find out Matthew wasn’t in prison for knocking an old person in the head or stealing something from under an old person’s bed. No one denied the absolute horror of what Matthew did, but most people realize he certainly didn’t set out to murder his sister and her roommate.
But today? Today the big news in Sharon is that Matthew Prescott is going to be speaking at a big community youth rally downtown. Mabel thinks the whole thing was set up by the TV people. But Mabel also thinks the government has hidden cameras in the diner to try to monitor everything she does. Of course, that’s ridiculous because Mabel doesn’t do anything the government or anyone else would find remotely interesting.
By 5:30 the park in Sharon was starting to get crowded. I later found out some of the high school teachers had agreed to give extra credit to students who came. Mabel and the folks at the diner set up a booth to sell hamburgers and all the civic organizations had their banners up. Some of the high school girls wore dresses and high heels because they hoped to be on TV. Suzie Bowman even dressed up like one of the characters from “Frozen” and then did a full gymnastic routine in the parking lot of Sharon Furniture and Appliance. Her great-grandma walked up to one of the young cameramen and said, “What about that? Now that right there is real talent.” He just nodded his head and said, “Yes ma’am. It sure is!” Of course, he said that because he was probably raised by good parents who taught him to always say ‘yes’ to really old people.
Dusty and Clara arrived early and set blankets on the ground near the grandstand. Ashley thought her presence would be a distraction so she asked the Rotary folks to video the proceedings, which they had planned to do anyway. Ashley and Dave also agreed to keep James and Beau so there would be fewer distractions.
I asked Sarah to meet us there and she agreed. Sarah had eaten lunch with us every Sunday for the last four weeks. So had Matthew. Of course, there were always other people there too. But still. I kept thinking he’d ask her out. I think she thought so too. But every Sunday was the same routine. They would vis
it with all of us on the porch and then he’d say he needed to help Chester and Ida. She’d volunteer to drive him home. He’d thank her and they’d be on their way.
Rotary president, Mitch Smith, approached the microphone. Mitch is about 30 years old. Married with two kids. He’s lived in Sharon all his life. His MeeMaw always said he was as pretty as any girl in town and she was right. His blonde hair was always perfect and usually he wore khaki pants and an oxford shirt with the sleeves ironed so crisp they could cut a piece of bologna. But tonight he had on a full suit and tie. “May I have your attention? May I have your attention, please?”
As he spoke, I scanned the crowd, looking for Sarah. Eventually I saw her leaned up against the back of Mabel’s hamburger stand. She had on a beautiful peach-colored summer dress that was tied at the waist with a tan cotton belt. Her hair was pulled up in the back with loose strands around her face. I knew she had gone home after school to change. She was starting to look less like Sigourney Weaver and more like, uh, like a shorter Anne Hathaway except with more in the caboose than Anne Hathaway. Oh, and Anne Hathaway has way bigger teeth than Sarah too. But it was like Sarah Simpson was going through a transformation. She waved and shrugged her shoulders, indicating she couldn’t get through the crowd to sit with us.
Mitch cleared his throat a few times. “This is a very big night here in Sharon. We have many honored guests in the audience but we won’t start introducing them or we’ll be here forever. I know you’ve all come to hear our guest speaker. I won’t make you wait any longer. Matthew Prescott moved to Sharon six weeks ago. He works as a mechanic at Dusty’s Shop in Bradford. He wasn’t here long when his story started making the local news.” He smiled and pointed at Dusty. “His boss, Dusty McConnell, even put something in the paper about it, about him. But tonight? Tonight you’ll get to hear the story from the person who lived it.” His face grew more serious as his voice got stronger. “And young people, we want you to know we’re not here tonight to glorify Matthew’s story. We don’t want you to live it. We want you to learn from it. It’s my privilege to introduce Matthew Prescott.”
