by Amie Denman
“Was there something you wanted to ask me?”
“Nothing important,” he said abruptly. “I’ll catch up with you some other time.”
He nodded at Grace whom he probably recognized vaguely as one of his daughter’s classmates and then hurried into his cruiser and left. His departure had all the style of an overwhelmed dad escaping a kids’ birthday party. In truth, he was a little too old for the kindergarten scene.
Chief Balcheski’s daughter, Karen, was a precocious child who arrived late in the lives of her parents. Very late. Her older brother and sister were in college, and Karen was the tangible sign that her parents could still get it on. Of course, they referred to her as a blessing, but I imagined “blessing” was not her parents’ first thought. Such late in life blessings were not uncommon in Catholic schools, but they did inspire a few savvy women to drive their husbands to the urologist in the next town for a quiet vasectomy. Blessings are not for everyone.
Apparently, I would have to live with the mystery of why Balcheski wanted to see me. I’d already told him all I knew about Wednesday night’s argument in the marina lot. What else could I say? I couldn’t face being interrogated at the Dairy Slide. This was supposed to be a refuge. A place where hope could take root so I could take on another week. I needed ice cream like a snakebite victim needs the antidote.
I headed over to deliver the kiddie cone and start answering Grace’s questions.
“Is Grandma going to be okay?” she asked before I could even take one bite of my chocolate encouragement.
“I’m sure she will, honey. The doctors will take good care of her, and your mommy and daddy are with her.”
“But why did she fall down and why wouldn’t she wake up?”
I wondered the same thing and considered running to the window to get more ice cream and stall. As I tried to think of an answer, a fabulous package in khaki presented itself at eye level. I tried to be discreet and look up, but it sure was a distraction.
“I heard the little girl’s questions and I thought I might be able to help,” Kurt said.
Sure there actually was a God at that moment, I silently recited an impromptu prayer that went something like, Holy shit, I think I’m in love.
“Sit down. I could use a professional here.”
“I thought you were doing pretty well.”
“Mr. Reynolds, this is Grace. Grace, this man is a fireman. He was at church today and he helped your grandma.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Grace asked.
“Uh-huh.” He nodded reassuringly and picked up Grace’s little hand in his big, tanned ones. Jealous of the tyke, I tried to remain focused. “Your grandma is a diabetic, which means she has to eat breakfast. I think maybe she didn’t do that today, did she?”
“Grandma’s visiting our house and everybody got up late and Mommy was yelling and we thought we were going to be late to church and Daddy backed over our trash cans and said three bad words and Mommy got mad and I was pretty hungry too.”
Kurt coughed to cover a laugh. “That’s what I thought. Your grandma woke up and was talking to your mom as they put her in the ambulance. I think she’ll be fine, but you’ll have to make sure you take care of her, okay?”
“Okay.” Grace looked happy and polished off her ice cream. I was a little embarrassed that mine was half gone already. I think Kurt saw but was too nice to say anything.
“I sure am glad you came along.”
“I overheard you telling her mom where you were going. Grace is lucky to have a nice teacher like you to take care of her.”
He straddled the bench next to me and I started to sweat. I wondered if he would like a nice teacher to take care of him too. I wished he wouldn’t display the goods when I was in my vulnerable, after-mass reflection state. At least I was more worried about Grace and her grandma than I was concerned about wallowing in my miserable past. Any other Sunday at the Dairy Slide Kurt might have had me eating out of his hand or weeping in his root beer float.
I noticed his glance drop discreetly to my chest a few times and remembered without much regret that there was only about an eighth of an inch of white knit fabric between him and my generous assets.
“Do you…need anything?” he asked.
“No, we’re really okay. I think Grace’s mom will probably be here pretty soon to pick her up. As long as they don’t run out of ice cream, we’ll be fine.”
Kurt smiled and said, “See you around, Grace, and remember what I said about helping take care of your grandma.”
“G’bye fireman,” Grace replied and then added. “Why aren’t you wearing your uniform?”
“Because it’s my day off.”
“D’ya wanna have ice cream with us? Miss Shepherd is really nice and she’d probably get you some too.”
I would absolutely have gotten him some.
“No, thanks. I know Miss Shepherd is very nice, but I’m going to Sunday dinner with…a friend.” As he spoke, a sleek, black Lincoln Town Car pulled up and stopped near us. How many black Lincoln Town Cars were in Bluegill? Did hottie fireman increase his job security by hanging out with the mayor? Maybe I should talk to Balcheski some more. But this time, I’d be the one asking the questions.
Kurt glanced at the car, stood and looked down at me. “Thanks for your help today, Miss Shepherd. You did exactly the right thing.”
“I think I lost a sweater, though.”
He glanced at my chest again and looked a little embarrassed before saying, “Oh, I think that spot will come out. Stay safe, Jazz.”
He got in the backseat of the Town Car, and I wondered what the hell he was talking about…until I looked down. My boobs had fulfilled one of their purposes on earth and caught a drip of dark chocolate syrup. After Grace’s mom picked her up, I was going to go home and torture myself to death.
Chapter Four
I drove by the fire station every day on the way to work, and my thoughts were all on Kurt. I also couldn’t help noticing the rather bizarre yard sale that had been going on for about a month. Each week new items were added. So far, I’d seen a ladder, an office desk and chair, a complicated-looking tank system of some kind, and a table of old boots and helmets on the front lawn of the fire station. The newest item was a red Jeep with water tanks and hoses on the back. Maybe they didn’t need the stuff anymore. Either that or they were very serious about spring-cleaning here in Bluegill.
The half of the building that housed the police department had also set up a small yard sale, but theirs wasn’t nearly as interesting. They probably couldn’t sell off guns, old badges and confiscated drugs. Too bad, because there had to be some good money in that. I wondered what both departments would do with their yard sale money.
The daily drive past the station fueled my recent obsession and I kept gazing through the huge glass doors hoping for a glimpse of the unobtainable. A fabulous-looking guy with a hero job in a small town filled with the marrying kind…what were the chances he was even single? Sigh. My loneliness was showing. I needed a good old-fashioned flirtation to bring me out of my yearlong funk. At the least, I needed information.
I considered asking the sisters what they knew about my favorite public servant. Pumping nuns for information about hottie fireman? Mary Alice would giggle nervously and Mary Doris would probably offer to tie him up and haul him back for me. She loved a physical challenge. Old Lady Clark would cross her arms, tap her foot and demand why on earth I wanted to know. No, only one person could quench my desire for gossip: Marlena Ripple.
Marlena and her husband owned Ripple Marina and had lived in Bluegill their entire lives. She knew what kind of bait each of the fishermen used and what kind of women they took out fishing with them.
Her outlook on life was considerably more adventurous than the women I hung around with at school all day. That’s not saying much, but no one could doubt that Marlena was a character. A colorful one. Someone should have told her that tight jeans and spaghetti straps were for th
e under sixty crowd, but what the hell. When you reached a certain age, you could do whatever you wanted. I sure planned to. I could learn a lot from an old bird like Marlena. Plus, she’d done enough time behind a bar to make a fine margarita. None of the nuns could do that. As far as I knew.
On Wednesday, I walked into the marina office for an evening of paperwork and filing. Marlena was busy putting price stickers on stained glass sailboats and hanging them in the large window.
“Hey, toots. I hear you’re quite the hero.”
I glanced at her flaming hair and tried to look sincere when I said, “I like the new hair color.” She held up both hands in my direction so I added, “Matches your nails perfect.”
“Think so? I thought it looked a little subdued for someone my age. Don’t wanna be mistaken for a cadaver.”
“No chance.”
“So, what’s this I hear about you and Kurt Reynolds?”
Jackpot! I didn’t even have to bring it up and make up a reason for prying about the guy. Marlena would’ve seen right through that anyway.
“What do you hear?”
“I hear you were half naked and flirting with him at the Slide after church.”
“You’ve got it wrong. I was totally naked doing it with him on a table at the Slide during church.”
“I figured. Slutty name like Jazz and all.”
“Are people really talking about us?”
Marlena scrunched her wrinkly lips into a smile. “You want ’em to?”
“I think I’m in the dark here. I’m sure I’m not the only woman in town who thinks he’s totally hot, but I’m probably the only one who knows nothing about him.” If Bluegill had secrets, Marlena was undoubtedly someone to ask.
“I don’t like to gossip, but if you’ll help me suction cup these damn sailboats to the window, I’ll fill you in.”
Ten minutes later, I knew enough about Kurt to understand that I had about as much chance of doing it with him on a table at the Dairy Slide as I would with the pope. He was the youngest of seven children from a seriously Catholic family. He was also practically engaged to the mayor’s appropriately Catholic and reportedly virginal daughter. How lovely. No wonder he had an admission ticket to the Town Car.
“What are his brothers and sisters like?”
“Mark is a priest, Matthew is a professor of religion at a college, Luke owns an accounting firm that does everyone’s books around here.”
“And the sisters?”
“All married, producing big Catholic families for God and country. Kurt’s the last of the Reynolds to get married, but that’ll soon change.”
“Think he’ll marry the Virgin Mary?”
“If his family has anything to say about it. They want him off the market and settled down.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Did you notice he’s the only one of the boys in his family not named after a saint?”
I laughed. He was too hot to be a saint. Of course, he probably spent his free time these days courting the mayor’s daughter and consoling her over the recent loss of her friend. Maybe Mary had the face of a bridge troll and I still had a chance.
“What’s Mary like? Half the women in town have to be jealous.”
“Gorgeous. Smooth. Don’t really care for her much myself.” Marlena grinned at me. “I prefer my friends to be a little more…”
“Flawed?”
“I was thinking colorful. Interesting.”
No one ever accused me of being gorgeous and smooth. I could live with colorful and interesting. Probably the best I could do. Of course I might not live a whole lot longer if I kept overhearing peculiar conversations in the parking lot. I considered confiding in Marlena about what I’d heard.
“That mayor job must be pretty profitable,” I said.
“Guess so.”
“I mean, it seems a little strange he’d have such a fancy car.”
“Never really thought about it.”
“And I suppose it won’t hurt Kurt’s career as a firefighter to be married to the mayor’s daughter,” I said. “Good for him. Guess he’s smarter than some people.”
Marlena squinted one eye, making the area of sparkling blue shadow over the other appear unnaturally large. “Someday you’ll have to tell me about your love life.”
“Nothing to tell.”
“I mean before you became a nun over at St. Pete’s.”
I had a lot more questions to ask Marlena, but since Kurt was clearly not in my future I decided to give it up for the day. Maybe I’d get it out of her little by little over time, but it wasn’t a good idea to go on and on about it or she’d think I was obsessed. Which I was. But I couldn’t compete with the gorgeous and smooth Virgin Mary.
It was for the best anyway. My interest in Kurt was a brief mental flirtation, an infatuation if you will. But it did serve one useful purpose. Having the hots for someone, anyone, reminded me that I was only twenty-five and not dead yet. Once in a while, I even had a good hair day when my shoulder-length brown hair picked up the light just right.
When I got home that evening, Harry set down his nail polish and eyed me suspiciously.
“Cop stopped by to see you while you were at work.”
It was more of an accusation than a statement.
“Cop? To see me?”
I tried to sound surprised, but I knew who it had to be. Several days had passed since Balcheski approached me at the Slide, so I’d harbored a secret hope that whatever he’d wanted to discuss had vanished like virgins at a high school prom. I didn’t know why the police chief was anxious to see me, but he seemed to be trying to catch me alone. I mentally reviewed all my legal infractions, but parking a little more than six inches from the curb seemed to be the worst of them. Not counting the incident with my ex-husband. But no way could Balcheski know about that.
“I told him you were at the marina if he really wanted to talk to you.” Harry paused. “Anything special you’d like to share, Jazz?”
“Please,” I said with a dramatic eye roll, “you’re a much more suspicious character than I am. Maybe the cop thinks you have a nice ass and he’s just using me as an excuse to get to you.”
“No thanks. Paunchy, middle-aged, Barney Fife sorts aren’t exactly my reason for keeping up the pedicure. What I’d like to know is why he’s itching to talk to you.”
“His daughter is in my kindergarten class,” I said. “She can hop on one foot and count to ten.”
Harry looked me over. “Bet you can’t do that.”
“Not taking the challenge. It’s been a long day. The chief probably wants to ask me something about his daughter.”
“A complicated kindergarten homework assignment?” Harry suggested with a smirk.
“More likely lice. Probably wants to know how you use that kit you get at the drugstore. According to Karen, her mom is out of town.”
The word lice caught Harry’s full attention.
“It happens,” I said. “Little kids are magnets for filth of all kinds. It’s part of their charm. And don’t worry, I almost never bring any of it home.”
He didn’t look very reassured, and I imagined he would be disinfecting my half of the house while I was at work.
Chapter Five
“A lot of sexy, rich men dock their boats here in the summer,” Marlena informed me matter-of-factly the next Saturday morning. “I’ll send you out to throw a line and tie one of them up if I see one coming.”
“Tie up a boat or a man?”
“With your pretty face and tits like that, it’ll be like taking candy from a baby to hook you up this summer.”
“What makes you so sure I want to get hooked up?”
Marlena rolled her eyes. “Shit, girl. Who doesn’t?”
She was right. School was just about over and the tank tops were coming out of hibernation. I needed distractions in the romance department so I could give up my fireman fantasies.
“You think Sherman would teach me how to
tie up a boat?”
“He’s a master at tying stuff up.” The way Marlena said it made me think I had a lot to look forward to when I was in my sixties.
“Hmm. I might go out on the dock and see if I can at least learn port from starboard. It might be a busy summer.”
Sherman was using a small, silver boat with an outboard motor to scoop up tree limbs and debris alongside the curved concrete wall that gave the marina a basinlike feeling. Long rows of docks stretched out from the wall, and each row could accommodate at least twenty-five boats on each side. When filled, there would be hundreds of boats in the marina. Only a few docked there now, mostly intrepid early season fishermen and a few pleasure boaters who couldn’t wait for Memorial Day weekend.
I soaked up the smell of exhaust from the small engines, the gleam of highly polished boats and the amusing names done up in colorful decals. Not a bad place to spend the summer, out in the fresh air, working on the docks and snagging rich, sexy men. Their boats. Snagging rich men’s boats.
“Hey, Jazz,” Sherman called from a few feet below me. “I hear you need docking and tying up lessons from a pro.”
“How the heck do you know that already? Marlena just suggested it to me a few minutes ago. You guys must have some crazy ESP thing going on.”
“Nope,” he said, digging in his back pocket, “portable radio.”
“Marlena says you’re good at tying things up.”
“She oughtta know.”
Sherman looked a few years older than his wife, although maybe it wasn’t a fair comparison considering that she colored her hair and his was only a white ring around his head. His skin reddish and wrinkled, he looked like he had spent his life outside. Sherman’s eyes were green, though it was hard to tell with the one. I had heard he’d gotten shot with a BB gun as a teenager horsing around with his friends. That eye was mostly white and I’d wondered since I met him if he could actually see out of it. It didn’t seem polite to ask.
