Stitched Together

by Carol Dean Jones

  “Parker must be talking to my foreman. Max Coleman has a big mouth and doesn’t know when to shut up.”

  “What makes you think someone has to be feeding information to Parker?” Rawlins asked.

  “Parker couldn’t figure it out for himself. He doesn’t know anything about construction. He’s a cop.”

  “A cop?” Rawlins shouted loud enough to cause the bartender to turn and look their way.

  “Relax,” Braxton responded. “He’s retired, and he’s just one of those old guys without enough to do. He’s been hanging around the construction site every day asking questions. I heard Max threw him off the site yesterday. He’s probably just trying to get even by coming to you.”

  “He knows enough to know those footings were poured on an unstable bed. You assured me you’d get the mud out of there.”

  Braxton swore again.

  “Get a handle on this problem, Braxton. I mean it. I’m not going down with you.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  * * * * *

  Feeling confident that the inspector would take care of the footings, Charles and Sarah spent the next few days in Hamilton looking at furniture. They had decided to replace a few pieces of their older things. They were going to use Charles’ bed in the guest room with a new mattress and replace Sarah’s bed with a new king-size bed and mattress set.

  They stayed at the Kingston Hotel in the center of town, treated themselves to several nice dinners, and saw a play one evening. “I haven’t had that much fun since Paris,” Charles said jokingly as they were driving home.

  “Let me think: Paris for ten days or shopping in Hamilton for three days. I think I’ll take Paris, but it was fun shopping with you.”

  “I thought that young salesman was going to have a stroke when we tested the mattresses. Did you see how red his face was?” Charles asked.

  “I think that happened when you pretended to unbuckle your belt, you silly man!”

  It was nearing dusk when they drove past the security kiosk. “Shall we drive by the house before we go home?”

  “I doubt much has been done since we left, but we can take a look,” she responded.

  As they approached the lot, they were both surprised to see men on the job. Temporary lighting had been set up. One man was operating a small backhoe and two others seemed to be reinstalling the frames. There were large piles of broken up concrete out by the road. “I wonder what they’re doing,” Charles said, straining to get a better look.

  “I think we should stay out of it, Charles,” Sarah said, remembering his last encounter. “Let’s just go home.” Charles wanted to know what was going on but agreed with Sarah that this was probably not the time.

  The next morning he drove toward the property but had no intentions of stopping. He just wanted to know what was going on. That nighttime work was puzzling, although they seemed to be working on the footings. As he approached, he realized the concrete mixer ahead of him was headed for his lot.

  “Rawlins must have jumped on B&H about those footings,” he told Sarah with a broad smile when he got home. “They have the concrete guy out there today re-pouring the footings.”

  Chapter 16

  Over the next weeks, the crew moved on to the house on the corner at the entrance to the Parkers’ cul-de-sac. They were putting the roof up the day Charles drove by. Larry waved to him from the front door. Charles looked around and didn’t see Max Coleman’s truck, so he parked and walked up to the house.

  “You’re feeling brave today,” Larry said in a ribbing tone. “I figured ol’ Coleman had scared you off fer good.”

  “Not for good, Larry. I’ve been coming over after everyone leaves. I’ve been hoping you might be here one night. How’s it going?”

  “Tough. They gave me a helper a couple of weeks ago—a young college guy, and I had to teach him which end of the hammer to hold onto. What’s with kids today?”

  “I know,” Charles commiserated. “They aren’t raised the way we were.” Charles stepped between the studs and walked over to where Larry was working. “Okay if I look around?”

  “I don’t care what you do as long as the boss ain’t here, but if you get found out or hurt, it’ll be my skin.”

  “I checked to make sure Max wasn’t around, but then I wasn’t ordered off this particular property, was I?” Charles said defiantly. Changing his tone somewhat, he added, “When do you think they’ll get back to work on my house?”

  “The concrete’s cured. The mason crew will be here tomorrow to set the crawl space walls, and the framing crew should start Monday with the floor. Once that crew gets moving with the walls, you’ll start seeing progress.”

  “I wish I could see it up close, but I don’t want to get Coleman riled again.”

  “Come on by after hours. I’ll be there most of the time, but just go on up now and look around. You know Coleman’s truck, right?”

  “Sure.”

  As he walked away, Charles ran his hand over the lumber and turned to Larry. “You aware of any problems so far?”

  “Nothing much. That last load of lumber for this unit didn’t look too good, but it won’t matter. Once the studs are up, they’ll do the job.”

  “Hmm,” Charles responded, wishing everything could be of top quality but realizing he wasn’t going to get that from a run-of-the-mill builder—or for the price he was paying, for that matter. “Good enough,” Charles said reflectively. “I guess that’s all we can expect. Good enough.”

  After Charles left the site, Larry watched him head up the street to his own property. He liked the man and was sorry the builders were giving him trouble. As he turned back to the receptacles he was installing, he thought about the scene the day Braxton ordered the crew to redo the footings on the Parker project.

  “What the hell are you telling people,” Braxton had yelled at his foreman. “Parker went to the authorities. They could close us down!” he had screamed. “I’m the boss here, and you have no business …”

  Larry had unfastened his tool belt and headed for the door. “I don’t want to know where this is going,” he called to his assistant. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Donald, his young helper, grabbed his toolbox and followed Larry out to the truck.

  “Stick your bike in the back,” Larry had said, “and I’ll drive you home.”

  “Why did you leave so fast?” Donald had asked as they headed off the lot.

  “Braxton’s got a temper, and one time he got so mad at a foreman he turned around and fired the whole crew. I need the work.”

  “Me too. What are they fighting about now?”

  “I’m not sure. Something about the guy we’re building the house for, but I didn’t hear much … and didn’t want to. Let’s stop for a beer.”

  “They won’t serve me, Larry, but I’ll get something to eat. I forgot my lunch today.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re just a youngster, ain’t cha?” Larry had teased as he passed the Village security kiosk and waved to the guard.

  Looking back on that day, he was glad that he and Donald got out when they did. The next morning the guys told him that Braxton had fired Max. Larry wasn’t surprised; he had heard the angry tone in Braxton’s voice, but he wondered how someone else could pick up in the middle of the project. Later that same day, he’d seen Max Coleman screeching up to the site in his truck. “Quit gawking and get back to work,” he had yelled at his crew. I guess Braxton couldn’t figure out how to get along without him, either.

  * * * * *

  “Hey, kiddo. I’m driving over to Keller’s for some groceries. Do you want to ride along?”

  “Oh, Sophie, I don’t think so. But could you pick up some coffee for me? I’m getting low.”

  After they hung up, Sophie grabbed her glasses and cane and headed for the car. She was wearing her new chartreuse sweatpants and matching hoodie and felt very fashionable. Once she arrived at Keller’s Market, she was surprised to find the parking lot packed.
Sale signs covered the front windows announcing their one-day anniversary sale.

  The only basket left in the rack was an oversize one shaped like a truck in the front with a small seat intended for entertaining children. She grabbed the enormous basket, loaded her tote bag into the baby carrier portion, and made her way through the array of sale items precariously situated along her path. Turning toward the vegetable aisle while eyeing the donut display, she crashed into a carefully stacked pyramid of canned peas.

  A surprised man standing near the display lost his balance and landed flat on his back as the peas came tumbling down around him. The sign that had been placed on the display landed on his head. Sophie stood speechless and frozen to the spot. What have I done?

  She looked down at the man lying on the floor among the scattered cans of peas. His wire-rimmed glasses and his bow tie were askew. He had a pleasant round face and rosy cheeks. He appeared to be balding, but it was hard to tell with his tousled hair partially covered by the sale sign.

  He wore a rumpled navy-blue suit and one scuffed shoe. The other shoe lay a few feet away. Sophie wondered how he managed to fall out of his shoe. “Are you okay?” she asked, leaning over him as a can of peas rolled off his round belly and hit the floor with a thud.

  Remaining flat on his back, the man reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his business card, passing it to Sophie.

  Cornelius Higginbottom

  Creative Card Consultant

  Verses for every occasion

  With the help of the manager and two bag boys, Mr. Higginbottom got to his feet. Sophie noticed he was short, only a couple inches taller than she was. He appeared to be in his mid- to late sixties.

  “I’m really sorry, Mr. Higgins. I don’t …”

  “Higginbottom,” he corrected with a smile, pointing to his name on the card she was still holding.

  Looking down at the card, she read it aloud. “Higginbottom. Cornelius Higginbottom. What do people call you?”

  “Cornelius Higginbottom,” he responded, looking puzzled. “They call me Cornelius Higginbottom. That’s my name.”

  “Well, I don’t have time for all those syllables, so I’ll just call you Corny. Are you okay?”

  He started to object since he liked his name just as it was, but he said nothing. He had already decided he wanted to get to know this flamboyant woman with oversize rhinestone-trimmed eyeglasses and a matching cane. “I’m just fine,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Just fine.”

  Chapter 17

  “Idon’t know, Sarah. He just looked so cute laying there with cans of peas all around him, and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off me!”

  “But Sophie, he’s a total stranger. Do you think you should invite him to your house so soon?”

  “You’re being a worrywart, Sarah. I’ll bring him over to meet you sometime and you’ll see. He’s just an old teddy bear and completely harmless.”

  “What does he do for a living?” Sarah asked out of habit, forgetting he was in his late sixties and probably retired. “Or is he retired?” she added.

  “He’s retired from his regular job, but now he writes verses for greeting cards.” She pulled Cornelius’s business card out of her apron pocket and handed it to Sarah.

  “Cornelius Higginbottom? That’s a mouthful … and he writes greeting cards? Does he work for a greeting card company, or what?”

  “He’s a freelance verse writer. I don’t actually know much about that yet, and that’s exactly why we need to spend some time together; we need to get to know each other.”

  “Well, Sophie, you’re a big girl, and I shouldn’t be sticking my two cents in. But this whole thing worries me. You met the man two days ago and already he’s coming to your house, and Lord knows what he has in mind.”

  “That’s more than two cents.”

  They looked at each other and burst into laughter at the same time. “Okay, okay. I won’t say another word.”

  “Would you feel better if you could meet him? You and Charles could come over for a drink before we have dinner …”

  Sophie didn’t look like she really wanted to share her new friend on their first date. Sarah graciously declined, but she told Sophie they would be home and she should call if she needed them.

  Sophie sighed and shook her head as she scratched Barney’s ear and headed home. “See ya, kiddo,” she called as she closed the screen door behind her.

  * * * * *

  “Hey, Larry. How’s it going?” Charles dropped by one late afternoon to check on the progress of his house. Just as Larry had predicted, the framing crew had made impressive progress over the past few weeks. Larry said it would be under roof before fall.

  Charles walked through the house, stepping between the studs and marveling at how small the rooms looked when they were simply outlined by the studs.

  “I ain’t doing so good, Charlie. This elbow is killing me.” Larry had been injured in his younger days when he crashed his motorcycle trying to avoid a sports car that had cut him off on the interstate. “This darn thing acts up when the weather changes.”

  Charles watched Larry struggling to tighten a pipe fitting between the bathroom studs and could tell he was in pain.

  “Where’s your assistant today?” Charles asked. “That’s a good job for the kid.”

  “He had to meet with some school folks about something. He told me what it was, but I don’t know much about them college things.”

  “Probably his adviser.” Donald had mentioned to Charles that he was looking into changing his major.

  “Here, let me do that for you.”

  Larry handed the pipe wrench to Charles and backed out of the way. “Thanks, man. Just don’t let anyone see you doing that.” There were a couple of men working late, but Larry had assured him they were okay guys.

  Charles took the wrench and lifted it up toward the pipe but pulled it back to look at it.

  “Where did you get your hands on this old stillson?”

  “Ain’t that a beaut? It belonged to my granddad. He was a mechanic up in Massachusetts in the thirties. That thing must be seventy or eighty years old, and it’s still goin’. I hope I can say the same about this old body of mine someday.”

  Charles glanced at Larry and wondered just how old he was. He looked like a middle-aged man who had experienced a very hard life.

  Charles gave him a thumbs-up and turned back to the pipe. He carefully adjusted the wrench around the fitting and muttered appraisingly, “This is some tool.”

  “Folks don’t appreciate the old tools like they should. The stores are full of junk now.”

  Chapter 18

  Sophie sat holding the piece of notebook paper Cornelius had handed her.

  Another year older and here you are,

  No longer young, a fading star,

  Balloons and fun are for the kids,

  Not those of us who are on the skids.

  Happy Birthday.

  She’d been asking to see some of his verses, but he’d seemed reluctant. Perhaps this was why, she thought. It was, perhaps, the worst thing she had ever read. She suddenly realized the true meaning of the expression being speechless. She had no idea how to respond.

  “Well, well,” she said. “I see you’ve been writing …”

  “This is the way it works for me. Verses just pop into my head. I had to pull over on the way here to write this one down before I forgot it.” Sophie wished it had been forgotten.

  Hoping to change the subject, she offered him a cup of coffee and said, “My friend was asking me where you sell your verses. Do you work for a particular company?”

  “Well, the truth is that I haven’t actually sold any yet, but I’ve only been at this for a few years. Getting published takes time, you know, even in the greeting card game.” He took a sip of his coffee and reached for one of the donuts he had brought with him.

  “I don’t know what to say, Corny. I have to admire you for your perseverance. There, she
thought, I managed to get away without responding to that terrible verse.

  “So what do you think of this one?” he asked, looking proud of himself.

  “I think those companies will be as speechless as I am when they read it.”

  “Thank you,” he responded with a pleased smile.

  They sat for a while enjoying their donuts and coffee. Sophie had the back door open and the room was filled with the pleasant smells of an early summer day. “So what would you like to do today?” Cornelius asked. They had been dating for a month and hadn’t done anything but eat so far.

  “Let’s take a ride somewhere,” Sophie suggested. As she waited for his response, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had a closet full of rumpled blue suits, or was he wearing the same one day after day. His red bow tie stood askew just as it had on the floor of Keller’s market. “Or we could invite my friend Sarah and her husband to join us for a picnic in the park?”

  Before he could answer, the phone rang. “Sorry to interrupt your early morning date,” Sarah said with a smile in her voice. “I just wanted to see if you and your gentleman friend would like to come for lunch.”

  Sophie turned to ask Cornelius, but instead put the phone back to her ear and said, “We’d love to.”

  “What was that all about?” he asked as she hung up.

  “We’re invited for lunch across the street. I’ve been wanting you to meet my friend Sarah.” She went on to tell him about Sarah and her recent marriage to Charles. He seemed fascinated by the story and asked lots of questions about the wedding.

  “Wedding announcements should be more fun,” he said suddenly. “That’s a wide-open market for a verse writer!” Excitedly, he added, “Do you have a piece of paper?”

  You might think we’ve gone insane,

  To tie ourselves to a ball and chain …

  Reading over his shoulder as he wrote, Sophie shook her head and sighed. I sure hope this man has a pension. He’ll never make a living this way!

  Sophie was beginning to wonder if Cornelius was somewhat of a doofus, but once she saw him with Sarah and Charles, she knew this guy was much more than his verses. His social skills were delightful, and he quickly made fast friends of the Parkers. Sophie, of course, kept everyone in stitches, and she particularly enjoyed being part of a couple for the first time in many years. As they were leaving, Sarah bent close to Sophie and whispered, “I like him.”