by Aimée Thurlo
Jo looked at the summer squash, noting how beautifully tended they’d been. She loved thin sliced, pan-fried summer squash with a smattering of butter.
Almost as if reading her mind, Esther picked up three of the summer squash and set them in front of her. “Here. I know you love these. Take them home and cook them up as a treat. You won’t find balance if you neglect yourself.”
“Although you adopted the Anglos’ religion, you still respect the ways of the Diné,” Jo said with a gentle smile.
“They’re part of me, too.”
“I know you’re living mostly on a retirement income, Esther. Why not can or freeze these vegetables?”
“This year, the weather and the pests have been kind and we already have enough to meet our needs. As for the rest, it gives me pleasure to be able to share them with my coworkers, my friends.”
“I’ll fry these up in butter,” Jo said. “Or grill them, maybe.”
“Good. Relax and stop trying to carry the mantle of responsibility for the trading post all by yourself. We’re in this together, you know.”
“But what if I can’t keep the trading post going?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Horrified, she clamped her mouth shut. Words had power, and saying things out loud was sometimes enough to make them happen.
“You want to be a Singer, so you already know that some things take time and demand effort—a lot of effort. It’s the same with the trading post.”
“I feel so overwhelmed sometimes,” Jo said softly, walking to the window and staring outside for a moment before speaking again. “Does anything ever come easy?”
“Giving up is easy. Fighting for what you want is a struggle that requires persistence and the ability to stand your own ground.” Esther grew silent, then after a beat, added, “But the biggest battle we wage is always inside ourselves.”
Jo heard the echo of pain woven through Esther’s words. “Is everything okay with you?”
“I think my Truman has the beginnings of Alzheimer’s,” Esther said. “He’s become very forgetful. We spent half of yesterday evening looking for the car keys. Eventually, we found them in the refrigerator.”
“Maybe he had them in his hand when he tried to grab a carton of milk, set them down, then got sidetracked,” she said, then wondered if that sounded lame.
“I’m not sure of anything yet, but for now, like you, fear’s my biggest enemy. That’s a battle I’ll have to fight—and win.”
“If there’s anything I can do, just let me know,” Jo said, giving her a hug.
“Please don’t say anything to the others yet. I’d like to get a better handle on things myself first.”
The sound of Leigh Ann and Regina coming in through the storeroom interrupted them. As Esther left the office, Jo leaned back and took a breath. Esther feared what she couldn’t change. If Truman had Alzheimer’s, there would be little she could do except work with the diagnosis. Esther felt trapped, and fear was a natural result.
She, on the other hand, had some power over the situation she was facing. Someone had definitely targeted the trading post, but her enemy was human and could be defeated.
“You okay, hon?” Leigh Ann asked, stopping by Jo’s office door.
“I’m fine,” Jo said, rubbing her temples, then reaching for a bottle of aspirins in her desk drawer. “I’m just tired of having to tough things out.”
Leigh Ann went around the desk and gave Jo a hug. “Sweetie, it’s okay to be upset, you have good reason. I heard on the radio about the shooting last night.”
“So now the whole world knows, and that could come back to haunt us like before,” she said, then expelled her breath in a slow hiss. “One way or another, I’m going to have to figure out what the person who killed our former boss wants. This won’t stop till then.”
“Ever since that break-in the day of the memorial service, we’ve all been trying to find the answer to that.”
Regina came in next, knocking on the open door as she entered. “The tribal rodeo is less than two weeks away now, and we’re going to need some of those inexpensive Mexican rugs that Tom stocks this time of year. They’re perfect for those who can’t afford a Navajo rug but are looking for Southwest-style accents. They always sell fast.”
“Tom placed his regular order with the Juárez wholesaler, and I know we’re due to make a pickup soon. I remember seeing the paperwork. A third of that inventory is already presold,” Jo said.
As the women stepped out, Ben came in carrying his father’s desk calendar. “Dad wasn’t big on iPhones or electronics, but everything on his schedule is written here.”
“Does he have a pickup scheduled there with León Almendariz, by any chance?”
“Here it is—Juárez, Mexico,” he said after a moment. “It’s listed for anytime this week. I remember Dad always drove down in the SUV to get those rugs himself. I rode with him on a few of those trips. Why don’t you let me go get the rugs? I’m getting restless. The lack of progress on the sheriff’s department investigation is really eating at me, and I need a change of pace before I do something stupid.”
“Thanks, but I should go down there myself. I have to tell León that we’ll be cutting back on our orders, and as the new owner that should come from me.”
“Why cut back, particularly under the circumstances? Didn’t you tell me once that those rugs sell fast?”
“Yeah, they do, but they also undercut our local weavers,” Jo said. “Your father and I were always at odds about this. I wanted to carry a wider range of sizes crafted by locals. The smaller rugs that usually sell for less might become more attractive to those who’d ordinarily buy the cotton-blend imitations.”
“But in the interim, we might lose sales.”
“Not if we do things gradually—testing the strategy before we get burned. For instance, the next order I’ll place with León will be for about twenty-five percent less product. León probably won’t like that much, which is why, as the new owner, I wanted to speak to him personally. It’s a matter of respect. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “I follow, but let me go with you anyway. I need to get away from here, if only for a day. Consider me your security detachment, or your driver, whatever it takes to change your mind.”
“No problem. It’s a long drive and we can take turns behind the wheel. The company will also help keep me alert. Just let me finish a few things here first. I’ll need to ask Leigh Ann to take over while I’m gone and give her a complete set of keys. I’ll also have to pick up a few things at my house. After that, I’ll be ready to leave.”
Like Ben, she wanted—needed—to get away from the trading post, even if only for a bit.
* * *
Leigh Ann, in charge of The Outpost for now, took her place behind the front register and watched a couple of customers sorting through bolts of fabric. Esther’s ready smile always managed to convince them to buy an extra yard, or maybe some contrasting material.
Regina was across the way, talking to another customer—an Anglo woman looking for a present for her granddaughter. Regina was good with people, and Leigh Ann could tell that she really enjoyed her job at The Outpost.
Yet as happy as the young Navajo woman seemed, Leigh Ann sensed another side to her. She’d often wondered if Regina saw her job as a way of getting away from problems at home. She’d heard Regina talking to her husband on the phone more than once, and Regina always seemed to be apologizing for one thing or another. It had reminded her of her own marriage.
Although she and Regina had never confided in each other, Leigh Ann sensed the special kinship between them. It was clear to her that Regina was going through her own version of hell at home.
Regina came over after the customer left. “She didn’t buy anything, but I have a feeling she’ll be back for Ambrose’s necklace—unless someone else gets to it first.”
“Good. Jo will be gone till tomorrow, probably, and once she’s back, I’d love to be a
ble to greet her with the news that we’ve sold the last of Ambrose’s pieces.”
“Jo’s really been tense lately,” Regina said, “but after what happened last night, I’m surprised she’s kept herself together as well as she has.”
“She’s still pretty edgy, which is why she needed to get away for a day or so.”
“Nothing ever goes according to plan, does it?” Regina took a shaky breath.
“I’m a good listener, if you need to talk,” Leigh Ann said softly.
Regina sighed. “It’s Pete. He took off again. Last time this happened, he didn’t come home for three days. He says that the baby, Mom, and me drive him crazy, and sometimes he gets so angry, he loses control. He can be really scary when he gets like that.”
“Does he hit you?” Leigh Ann asked in a whisper. She’d never told a soul, but Kurt had often come home from his business trips tired and cranky. He never actually hit her, but he’d fly into a rage over some little thing, cuss her out, then force her to have sex, holding her down until he was done. The next day, she’d be sore and covered with bruises. At least most of those hadn’t been in easily seen places.
Remembering, Leigh Ann suppressed a shudder. Nobody should ever have to go through that kind of hell alone. “You can trust me, honey. It’ll be our secret.”
“It’s not really bad—not now, anyway. Pete slapped me once, but then my mother started hitting him with the broom. She told him that if he ever raised a hand to me, she’d shoot him while he slept and he’d never see it coming. That was the last time it ever happened.”
“Damn straight!” Leigh Ann said with a smile. “Good for her! You don’t have to take that crap from anyone.”
“I still love him,” Regina said softly, “and sometimes it’s my fault, getting him upset.”
“No, that’s what abusive men want you to think. Putting the blame on you is their way of excusing their own behavior,” Leigh Ann answered quietly. “The problem is that our hearts won’t turn themselves off, and being alone seems scarier than staying with our man.”
“Yeah, it’s like that,” Regina said. “Thanks for listening, and don’t worry. Pete and I will work through this.”
Leigh Ann recognized the tone. It was the same one she’d used whenever her sister Rachel had asked too many questions, and she’d wanted the subject dropped. Respecting that, Leigh Ann didn’t press her any more.
Regina quickly switched to business. “I know how you want things to go smoothly while Jo’s gone, so I should probably tell you what I overheard. Del’s mom stopped by earlier and chewed him out. He’s off his meds again. There’s a prescription waiting for him at the Walgreens, but he hasn’t picked it up.”
Leigh Ann knew about Del’s medical disorder, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, ADHD. Without his medication, he became unstable under pressure. He would have a hard time getting along with other people, finishing tasks, organizing—all the qualities a stock boy needed.
“I’ll go speak to him. If he ran out, maybe one of us can take him to the pharmacy.”
Leigh Ann found Del in the storeroom, arguing with a deliveryman who was trying to unload a pallet of canned goods. “Come on, man. I haven’t got all day!” Del said.
“I’m pacing myself,” the man in his late forties said. “I’ve got a bad back.”
“You’re just jacking around,” Del snapped. “You shoulda been done and outta here ten minutes ago.”
“If you’re in such a hurry, Del, do it yourself.”
“It’s not my fricking job, old man.”
“Then get out of my face,” the man growled at him. “You young dickheads are all the same. Who put the rocket up your ass, anyway?”
Del threw down his work gloves. “You wanna piece of me? Come on, bring it. You’re not too old to have your ass kicked.”
The delivery man dropped the case of peaches right at Del’s feet and put up his own fists. “Happy now, you punk?”
“Delbert Hudson, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Leigh Ann stepped up, placing herself between the two men and crossing her arms across her chest. “This is no high school locker room. It’s a place of business. You’re here to do a job—and it’s not picking fights with our vendors. Apologize this instant, then get your sorry butt over to the produce locker and clean it from top to bottom.”
Del lowered his fists, slowly, but didn’t move.
“Get on with it, Del,” Leigh Ann demanded, her hands on her hips now. “I don’t have all day.”
“Sorry—old man,” Del mumbled. His head lowered and a scowl still on his face, he whirled around and hurried out of the room.
Leigh Ann breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to the deliveryman. “John, just leave the boxes there on the floor. We’ll take care of them later on.”
“You need to control that kid before he gets in some serious trouble. You’re gonna get sued if he keeps it up.”
“I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry. If he causes any more problems in the future, just back off, pick up the phone, and call me or Jo.”
As soon as the deliveryman finished emptying the pallet and drove away, Leigh Ann went to find Del. He was in the cooler, wearing a jacket and sweeping.
“Nice job so far,” she said, noting that the boxes of fruit and vegetables were neatly stacked on the metal slats of the cooler shelves.
“But you’re not yourself today, Del. You’re not taking your meds, and you know you have to keep a close watch on that,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Don’t you dare take that tone of voice with me! Now, you answer me. Did you ever pick up your pills?”
“Yeah, well, no.”
“It can’t be both.”
“I was going to do it on the way to work, but I was running late. Jamie left her book bag in my pickup, and I had to go back by her house. I guess I forgot.”
“Let’s go. You’re on break. We’re going to pick up that prescription right now.”
“I don’t have enough cash on me.”
“I’ll make up the difference and you can settle it with me on payday. Now, get moving.”
Leigh Ann walked out to the customer area and stopped at the rear register. “We’ll be back in fifteen,” she said to Regina. “I’m taking Del to the Walgreens. Call me on my cell if there’s a problem.”
* * *
As the day marched on, Leigh Ann came to the conclusion that she’d never worked so hard in her entire life. The crisis with Del had passed. Although the meds would take a while to get into the boy’s system, at least he was now trying his best to make it up to her. Then, just as things settled down, the plumbing had decided to act up in the employees’ bathroom sink. Good with a plunger, she’d managed to clear the drain after a struggle. Now she needed a break. Desperate for some coffee, she went to the break room.
Esther was there, finishing a cup of coffee. “You’ve done really well today, Leigh Ann, taking care of problems and getting everything else done at the same time. Three more hours till closing, and we’re still standing tall. You should be proud of yourself.”
Leigh Ann sat down and sighed. “I just wanted everything to go smoothly so Jo could see I can handle things.”
“A lot went on and you took care of it all—successfully. That qualifies,” Esther said.
As the thought registered, Leigh Ann smiled. “Yeah. You’re right. Everything has turned out okay. Thanks for reminding me.”
By the time Leigh Ann returned to the front register, she felt better than she had all day. Esther was the calmest person she’d ever met. Of course, at her age, with social security and her husband’s pension, she probably didn’t have a care in the world.
For a moment, Leigh Ann wondered what it would have been like to be Esther’s age and not have so many worries anymore. After seeing so much of life, did anything ever rattle Esther? She supposed she’d find out someday—if she lived that long.
Regina appeared at the doo
r. “We’ve got the wrong shipment. John, the deliveryman that squared off with Del, left us the wrong pallet. I guess in the confusion nobody noticed. When I opened the first case, I found out the cans are private label. The only places around here that carry that brand are the Smith’s stores in Farmington,” Regina said.
“Wonderful,” Leigh Ann said with a sigh, rising from her chair. “Let me find the telephone number.”
Fortunately, John readily agreed to stop on his way back from Shiprock and make the switch. By the time Leigh Ann straightened out that mix-up and was back at the register, another hour had gone by.
Just as she took a seat on the stool, Ambrose John walked in. “Hi, there, Leigh Ann. Jo around?”
“Nope. She’s gone to a wholesaler to pick up a scheduled order. She won’t be back till tomorrow.”
“And Ben?”
“He’s her driver. They’re picking up a shipment of rugs south of the border.”
“That tourista crap?” Seeing Leigh Ann nod, he grimaced. “I thought Jo wasn’t going to carry those knockoffs anymore.”
“You’ll have to talk to her about that,” Leigh Ann said with a shrug.
“I know business has been tough for The Outpost lately, so I came up with an idea that might benefit us both. How about letting me do some of the finish work on my latest pieces here? We could set up a table out front under the covered porch. I’ve brought some nearly completed pieces with me. My working right out in public might attract some customers. Old school advertising, like with the historic Hubbell Trading Post, way back when. With drive time coming up, a lot of commuters will be passing by in the next two-plus hours.”
“That’s a great idea!” Leigh Ann said. “I’m sure lots of people will stop just to see what you’re doing! I’ll put a sign out at the end of the drive ASAP.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll set up a table. I’ll also need an outlet.”
“There’s one outside just below the window. If you want one of our evaporative coolers out there with you, just say the word.”
