by Mary Daheim
Still, the house looked better, and not just because the fire damage had been fixed. There had been structural improvements as well, though they could not be seen by the naked eye. All in all, Judith felt a sense of pride as she approached the porch.
It was only then that she realized Bart Bednarik’s red-and-green van wasn’t parked in the driveway or the cul-de-sac. Judith glanced at her watch. It was 10:32. When she looked up again, she saw a truck turning the corner and coming toward her. The truck slowed to a crawl. A blond, curly-haired man poked his head out of the cab’s passenger side.
“You Mrs. Lynn?” he asked.
“Flynn,” Judith called back. The truck’s lettering read “Cool & Cold Refrigeration.” “Have you got my new fridge?”
The man had ducked back inside and didn’t respond. Judith watched as the truck pulled up behind her in the driveway. The curly-haired man got out on one side and a dark-haired, broad-shouldered man got out on the other.
“Which entrance?” the dark-haired driver asked.
“The back,” Judith replied, noting that the man looked as if he could be Native American. “Do you know where Mr. Bednarik is?”
“Sorry, no. He must have been held up somewhere,” the dark-haired man said, then held out a hand. “I’m Jim Twomoons.” He nodded at his coworker, who was opening the back of the truck. “That’s Curly Slowe. It looks like you bought top of the line.”
“I did?” Judith gulped. She knew that because she needed a large refrigerator it would cost more. But she didn’t know how much. “What’s the bottom line?”
Jim Twomoons reached into the truck’s cab and brought out a clipboard. “With delivery and installation, it’s three thousand, four hundred ninety-five dollars and twelve cents.”
Judith blanched. “Goodness. I didn’t think the total would come to more than two thousand.” Suddenly, she remembered the cashier’s check for thirty-five hundred dollars back at the casino. “Oh, well. It’s a nice one, right?”
“The best,” Jim assured her. “You want to open up for us?”
Judith obliged. As she entered the kitchen, it seemed like days, rather than a little more than twenty-four hours, since she’d been inside the house. In truth, nothing much had changed, which annoyed Judith. Except for the new backsplashes, she couldn’t see that Bart Bednarik had made much progress during the Flynns’ absence.
Jim and Curly pushed the big fridge down the back hallway and into the kitchen.
“We’ll pull the old one,” Jim said. “We’ll also take it away.”
“Good,” Judith said. “Not all appliance companies do that.”
“We aim to please,” Jim declared.
Judith left the men to their task. The long living room felt more spacious than ever with several pieces of furniture at the upholsterer’s. The matching white sofas in front of the fireplace had been soiled beyond redemption by the firefighters. Judith didn’t mind. They were worn in numerous places, as were the three side chairs. She’d chosen navy—the same shade she’d originally picked out for the house—to re-cover the sofas, blue florals for two of the side chairs, and Chinese red for the third.
She was about to dial Bart Bednarik’s cell phone when Jim entered the living room. “We’ve got a problem,” he said, actually looking as if it mattered to him as well as to Judith. “The electrician hasn’t completed his work with the refrigerator outlet.”
Judith grimaced. “He was supposed to be here today. That’s why I came back to town from the Lake Stillasnowamish Resort Casino.”
Jim grinned. “Is that where you folks are staying? I’m a Stillasnowamish myself.”
“Really?” Judith’s annoyance faded momentarily. “You probably know some of the people who work at the casino.”
“Sure,” Jim replied. “We’re a small tribe. And Cold & Cool put in all their refrigeration units. I spent two weeks working there before they opened. The folks who run the resort are nice people, good people.”
“Yes, they’re very nice. Do you live near the resort, by any chance?”
Jim shook his head. “I never did. My folks moved to the city before I was born.”
Judith figured that Jim Twomoons hadn’t heard about the tragedy yet. Apparently, Salome’s murder hadn’t made the news, no doubt because Pancho Green and the tribal elders were still keeping the lid on the story. “I’m going to call Bart to see where on earth he is,” Judith said. “I’d also like to know what’s happened to the electrician. Frankly, I’m not happy with either of them.”
“Oh, Mrs. Flynn,” Jim said with a small smile, “I’m sure they have their reasons for not being here yet. Trouble of some sort, I’d guess. Freeway tie-ups, family crises, maybe even an illness. You can’t be too hard on folks.”
“You’re more understanding than I am,” Judith retorted.
“It’s part of our culture. We know it drives people crazy sometimes,” Jim went on with a disarming smile, “but we always think the best of other people. It’s one of the ways we keep in tune with nature and the earth. And you know, most of the time we’re right. Very few folks are out to deliberately upset other folks. Things happen, things we can’t foresee. We have a saying, ‘Only the flicker knows.’ It usually means something bad will—”
The phone on the cherrywood table rang. Judith gave Jim an apologetic look and picked up the receiver.
“Mrs. Flynn?” It was Bart Bednarik, with a bad connection. “I’m stuck on the other side of the lake. There’s an overturned van on the floating bridge. Has Artie Chow shown up yet?”
“Is Artie the electrician?” Judith thought Bart had said he was, but the crackling in her ear made it difficult to understand. “Just get here as soon as you can. And find Artie.” Frustrated, she clicked off.
“Trouble?” Jim asked in his usual mild tone.
“Yes.” Judith sighed. “You were right—there’s a wreck on the floating bridge. Bart’s stuck in traffic.”
“There you go,” Jim said. “It’s not poor Bart’s fault.”
“So where’s Artie?” Judith inquired with a glum expression.
“Maybe he’s stuck, too,” Jim suggested. “Curly and I’ll load up the old fridge while we’re waiting.”
Judith stayed in the living room. Of course, the workmen would be charging by the hour. And sometimes it took hours to clear up a wreck on the bridge. She paced the living room, taking an occasional side trip to the front door to see if Artie Chow had shown up. Finally, she went upstairs to check the guest rooms.
All was well. Room 1, which had borne the brunt of the fire, had been re-wallpapered with a whimsy of butterflies and blossoms. The new lace curtains and bed linens carried out the theme with more butterflies. Judith was pleased with the result.
The five other guest rooms also had fresh paint and wallpaper, ranging in patterns from Japanese peonies to the French countryside. Judith had just closed the door on room 6 when she heard Jim Twomoons calling to her. Taking the back stairs, she found Jim in the hallway, by the pantry.
“I feel terrible about this,” he said, “but we’re going to have to go now. We have a delivery to make across the ship canal at eleven forty-five. We’ll come back after that.”
“Oh, please do!” Judith exclaimed, all but groveling. “I’m sure the electrician will be here by then.”
Ruefully, Judith watched the refrigerator truck drive out of the cul-de-sac. She was on her way back to the kitchen when the phone rang. This time she answered it on its base by the sink.
“Me again,” said Bart Bednarik, who had managed to lose the static of the previous call. “I hadn’t gotten onto the bridge yet when I phoned you earlier, so I decided to drive around the lake. I’m making much better time.”
“Good,” Judith said in relief. “How soon will you be here?”
“Well…that’s the thing. I won’t be at your place today after all.”
“What?”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” he retorted as Judith heard the hum of
traffic in the background. “Here’s the deal. You know the van that overturned on the bridge?”
“No, I don’t,” Judith replied coldly. “What about it?”
“Artie Chow was driving it. He’s on his way to the hospital with a possible broken collarbone. I got a call from his office just a couple of minutes ago. It looks like I’ll have to find another electrician.”
“Will he be okay?” Judith asked, feeling slightly more pity for Artie than for herself.
“Sure, sure, Artie’s tough,” Bart asserted. “But he won’t be able to work for a while, and he runs a one-man show when it comes to older houses like yours. It won’t be easy, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Judith held her head with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. “Can you get one by the time Jim and Curly get back to install the fridge?”
“Screw you, moron!” Bart yelled.
“I beg your pardon?” Judith’s temper was about to explode.
“Sorry, some guy in an SUV cut me off. What time are the guys due back?”
Judith glanced at the old schoolhouse clock that was lying on the kitchen counter. It was just after eleven-thirty. “One o’clock?” she ventured.
“Oh, boy…I doubt it. Anybody who’s any good is all sewed up for the day. Maybe for two or three days. I’ll have to get back to you on that. Got to go, I’m pulling in for my lunch break.” Bart rang off.
Judith was fit to be tied, in a quandary and wishing she’d gone to Antarctica where she’d be cold but at least she’d be incommunicado. Sitting in the chair by her computer, she tried to figure out her next move. Worse yet, she was hungry and there was no food in the house.
She was still calculating her options when the attack came. Her assailant jumped on her back, sank his claws into her flesh, and let out a fierce battle cry.
“Sweetums, you beast!” Judith cried, frantically trying to get the cat to loosen his hold.
“Mee-ooww-rr!” Sweetums growled as Judith finally freed herself and held the animal in front of her.
“Hey, I’m sorry we had to go away,” she said, gasping for breath. “You’re supposed to be having fun with the Dooley kids.”
Sweetums spat in Judith’s face, wriggled free, and landed on the kitchen floor where he sat with his tail curled around him and scornfully stared at Judith with his beady eyes.
Judith stared back. The contest went on for almost a full minute before Judith surrendered and looked away. With a triumphant swish of his plumelike tail, Sweetums sashayed out to the pantry.
“Why not?” Judith murmured. She followed the cat, retrieved a can of his favorite food, and took it over to the electric can opener on the far counter. Nothing happened. Judith had forgotten that the electricity in the kitchen was turned off. Rummaging in a drawer, she found her old-fashioned manual can opener.
“I feel like joining you,” she said, filling a bowl with cat food.
The phone rang again. “Bart here,” he said, sounding as if his mouth was full. “We got lucky. Hardy Mills can come out tomorrow morning.”
Judith hesitated. “That’s the best you can do?”
“Yep. Hardy’s a good one, as good as Artie.”
Hardy and Artie, Artie and Hardy. Judith’s headache had returned at full strength. “I guess that’s what we’ll have to do,” she said with a sigh.
“One little problem, though,” Bart said. “I got hold of Jim and Curly. They can’t make it tomorrow, they’re booked solid with some condos in the north end. They’ll try to be at your place first thing Thursday morning.”
“Okay.” There seemed no room for argument. “Let me know of any more changes. What’s happening with the countertop? That’s why I came back to the city, remember?”
“The countertop?” Bart sounded baffled. “Oh—that countertop. I’m waiting for a jingle from Ansonia Appliance. They’re the only ones in town who might have the size you want in their warehouse. I should hear back by two. If they’ve got it, we can drive out to the south end and have a look-see.”
“What’s the point in me looking at it if that’s the only one available?” Judith demanded.
Bart didn’t respond right away. “You got a point. None, I guess. But what if you don’t like it? We’re back to square one. If it’s wrong, you still might sue me.”
“No,” Judith said in a dead-calm voice. “I won’t sue you. But if that countertop isn’t in by tomorrow, I will kill you.”
“Can you put that in writing?” Bart responded. “The part about not suing me, I mean.”
“If you have a countertop installed in twenty-four hours, I will. Meanwhile,” Judith went on, eyeing the aspirin bottle on the windowsill above the sink, “what else should be done around here today?”
“Oh, boy—I don’t know. We’ve got everything pretty well in hand. Except for the plumbing, of course. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
“Do that,” Judith snapped. “We want everything completed by the weekend, when we return from the resort.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Bart said. “Decisions, decisions. Life’s rough.”
“What decisions now?”
“My pie. It’s apple. Ice cream or cheese? What to do, what to do?”
“Just do something, and do it as soon as you finish your damned pie,” Judith all but shouted and slammed the phone back into the cradle.
Reaching for the aspirin bottle, she cursed Bart for having sent her on a fool’s errand. She’d driven all the way into the city for nothing. Judith got a glass out of the cupboard and turned on the tap.
No water flowed. She’d forgotten that the plumbing had also been shut off.
Judith arrived back at the Lake Stillasnowamish Resort Casino shortly after two. She hadn’t seen Bob Bearclaw when she’d left that morning, but he was on duty now, and greeted her with a big smile and a tip of his doorman’s cap.
“Mrs. Flynn,” he said as she handed her keys to one of the valets. “I heard you had to go back to the city. Is everything all right?”
Judith grimaced. “Not really.” Noting a look of concern on Bob’s face, she tried to smile. “I mean, it’s nothing tragic. We’re renovating our house, and there are so many complications. It’s very frustrating.”
“Oh, yes. But,” Bob continued, “a true test of patience and perseverance. Like all troubling experiences, it will strengthen you.”
“I suppose,” Judith said dubiously. Since she was about to pass out from hunger, she felt anything but strong. “Would you know where I might find my husband?”
Bob wore a slight frown. “No, I’m sorry to say I don’t know where Mr. Flynn is. The last I saw of him was around noon, eating lunch in the coffee shop with Mr. Green, Mr. Fromm, and Jack Jackrabbit. Would you like me to have him paged?”
“No, I’m going to have some lunch myself first. Thank you, Bob.” Judith started up the stone steps, then turned as if an afterthought had struck her. “Do you know if there are any new developments in the homicide case?”
Bob smiled in a deferential manner. “I couldn’t really say, Mrs. Flynn. I’m sorry.”
Couldn’t or wouldn’t? Judith wondered as she entered the casino. Bob Bearclaw seemed to know more than he was letting on. But as a resort employee, discretion would be his byword.
Judith decided it would be faster to eat from the twenty-four-hour buffet than to go to the coffee shop. She followed the arrows on the sign above her head and started in the direction that took her past the conference rooms just beyond the lobby. Apparently, the graphic designers were on a break. The corridor was crowded with people sipping beverages in paper and plastic cups. Moving slowly through the congestion, she spotted Aunt Deb in her wheelchair, chatting with a half dozen people. Not knowing how to address her aunt under the circumstances, Judith made her way around the edge of the gathering in order not to be seen.
She wasn’t quick enough.
“Yoo-hoo, Judith,” Aunt Deb called. “Come meet some very dear people.”
Obediently, Judith hoofed it over to her aunt. A quick glance informed her that Deb was indeed passing herself off as her daughter. The name tag on her green dress read “Serena Jones, Ca-Jones Designs.”
Adroitly, Aunt Deb made the introductions. All but one of the group—a gray-haired man in tweeds—was at least forty years younger than Judith’s aunt.
“Isn’t this nice?” Aunt Deb enthused. “I’ve met such lovely people.”
“That’s wonderful, Aunt…Serena,” Judith said. Judging from the smiles on the designers’ faces, they thought it was wonderful, too.
“They’re all very clever,” Aunt Deb declared. “I hope I can hold my own on the panel this afternoon.”
Judith tried to hide her surprise. “You’re on a panel?”
“Yes,” Aunt Deb responded with a little laugh. “We’re discussing innovation. And,” she added with a sharp look at Judith, “concepts.”
“That sounds right up your alley,” Judith said, giving her aunt’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Oh, yes,” put in a young man with a shaved head, “Ms. Jones pointed out to us that we overuse the word ‘concept,’ and that it doesn’t always mean what we think it does.”
“Not to mention,” added a plump black woman who was young enough to be Aunt Deb’s great-granddaughter, “she keeps us in high spirits. Ms. Jones is s-o-o-o good natured.”
“Yes, she is,” Judith agreed, wondering what might have happened if Gertrude had attended the conference instead of Aunt Deb. “I’m pleased to meet you all. Enjoy the conference,” she said, starting to walk away.
“Judith,” Aunt Deb called out. “If you see…Debbie, tell her to put on an extra sweater. It seems a bit cool this afternoon.”
“I’ll tell her,” Judith promised, nodding and smiling as she left her aunt’s coterie.
The buffet line was mercifully short. Within five minutes, Judith had her plate filled and was looking for an empty table. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Griselda Vanderbehr eating alone on the other side of the dining room.
