by Alex Finlay
“Five-dollar minimum,” Danielle said.
Liv was about to lose it, but she looked back and saw Tommy doing a pee dance. “How much is the whole container?” Liv asked, gesturing to the plastic jug of candy.
Danielle made a face like she was doing a complicated math problem in her head. “Twenty bucks,” she said.
Liv dug into her handbag and smacked a twenty down. “Can I have the key please?”
Taking her sweet time, the clerk retrieved a key that was connected by a string to a large plastic slab, and slid it across the counter.
Liv snatched it up and rushed to the bathroom. She unlocked the door, and Tommy ran inside, yanking down the front of his pants and squirting indiscriminately until making it to the bowl.
When he was done, he let out an audible sigh of relief.
“Feel better?”
He gave a wide-eyed nod.
Liv considered the urine all over the toilet seat and floor. She should leave it for the witch out front. But that was all she needed, Danielle telling everyone she’d vandalized Parker’s. She cleaned up the mess and dropped the key on the counter on their way out. But before reaching the door, Liv stopped. She marched back to the counter and scooped up the giant container of candy. She could feel Danielle’s glare burning into her as she and Tommy left the store.
“Welcome home,” she whispered to herself.
CHAPTER 21
Liv pulled the rental car into the driveway and frowned at the scene. The house, her childhood home, was in a state of disrepair. The hedges were in desperate need of trimming. Shutters crooked, paint peeling.
Cindy met them at the door. She, too, showed signs of neglect. Her hair had a two-inch band of gray at the part. She wore polyester pants with a threadbare cardigan.
Liv’s older sister had never been one to primp, and when they were kids, many wondered aloud how the two could be related. In high school Liv had been the town beauty, voted Irrigation Queen three times in the sexist pageant held every summer. She’d inherited their late mother’s delicate, faintly aristocratic features. Cindy was their father’s daughter. Big boned. A wide face and nose.
“Is this Tommy? I can’t believe it,” Cindy said in that raspy voice of hers. “You were just a baby the last time I saw you.” This was directed more at Liv than Tommy.
“It’s me,” Tommy said earnestly.
“Well, come on in and give your auntie a hug.”
Tommy hesitated, but sauntered over and gave her a sideways hug.
“I’m sorry we’re late,” Liv said. “Flight delays, then—”
“Visiting hours are over soon,” Cindy cut in, “so we probably should get over there if you want to see him today.”
They took Liv’s rental since Cindy’s vehicle didn’t have a car seat. Her sister glanced at the giant container of candy wedged between the front seats, but didn’t ask. It wasn’t long before they were on another lonely highway headed to the nursing home. On either side of them were vast fields, punctuated with telephone poles, birds balancing on the lines.
“They say we have a week to find him somewhere,” Cindy said, matter-of-fact.
“Or what?” Liv replied. “They’ll throw an elderly man with Alzheimer’s out on the street?”
“No, they’ll just hire an overpriced caregiver, put him in the most expensive room, and charge us an arm and a leg until we relent.”
“Have you looked into other places?”
Cindy nodded. “Most won’t take wanderers, much less disruptive residents. And they’re pricey.”
“How pricey?”
“Four times what we’re paying.”
Liv guffawed. They could barely afford Twilight Meadows. “We can’t swing any more money. With Maggie leaving for college, we’re going to struggle just to cover our mortgage.” It was even worse than that, she believed. But after their last fight, she’d relinquished the monthly bills to Evan. For now she was staying blissfully ignorant. A reckoning was coming, she knew.
Cindy just stared ahead at the miles of flatland.
Liv didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “The house. Have you considered selling—”
“Where would I go?” Cindy said, her tone indignant.
“I don’t know. It’s a big place. Maybe you could—”
“What, rent a room above Pipe Layers?”
Liv frowned. “Of course not.” Then again, Cindy might fit in with the toughs who rented the flophouse rooms above the town’s only bar. Before taking her job running the local post office, Cindy had been employed by Adair Irrigation like their father. Working alongside the lifers on the line hadn’t exactly softened her rough edges.
Liv scolded herself—she was being too harsh. Like the candy from Parker’s, her sister might have a hard exterior, but there was a soft center in there. Though you might spit out the sour candy before ever finding it.
Cindy said, “I get that this town hasn’t been good to your family, but this is my life.” Cindy had stubbornly stayed in Adair. Most of the citizens hadn’t held her relation to the Pines against her, probably for fear she’d throw away their mail.
The hum of tires on the road filled the silence.
“Is there any way we can convince them to let him stay?” Liv said at last.
Cindy frowned.
“It can’t be that bad,” Liv said.
“He’s wandered off four times. And last week Dad threw a bedpan against the wall and called the nurse a”—Cindy lowered her voice because of Tommy—“a effing c-word.”
Liv put her fingers on her temples and massaged them. She’d been there only an hour and already her head was pounding.
“Trust me,” Cindy said, “I got into it with the staff. They threatened to ban me from the home if you can believe that.”
Liv could believe it.
“But I got a call yesterday from the director,” Cindy said. “He said there may be something you can do to help.”
Liv looked at her sister. “What is it?”
“I’ll let him tell you,” Cindy said.
Liv sat quietly again, annoyed that Cindy was keeping her in suspense.
Purposefully changing the subject, Cindy said, “You hear about Noah?”
“Hear what?”
“Your old boyfriend’s getting promoted from lieutenant governor to the big boy job. Governor Turner’s gotten himself caught up in some mess with young girls. Turner’s expected to resign any day now; they say he may be indicted. By law, the lieutenant governor fills the rest of the term.”
Liv thought about this. A rush of excitement flooded through her. Noah had been an outspoken supporter of Danny, and as governor he would head the Nebraska pardon board. Just when she’d given up on Danny ever being let out, something she’d never say out loud, a glimmer of hope. Then again, that was the cruelest thing about Danny’s case. Matt always said it was like the scene from an old mafia movie: Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. It had nearly destroyed Evan. And their marriage.
After checking in at the front desk, they walked past a communal area that was filled with elderly people sitting at tables playing board games or watching television. Two frail-looking men, both in wheelchairs, sat across from each other in the far corner, studying a chessboard. Liv’s thoughts drifted again to Matt. He loved the game. She made a mental note to call him. Matt was still angry at Evan, at Liv as well, she supposed, but he had a sweet heart and he’d come around.
In the residential section, Cindy stopped in front of a closed door. Underneath a medical chart there was a sign that read, I’M CHARLIE FORD. I HAVE TWO DAUGHTERS AND FOUR GRANDCHILDREN. I WAS IN THE ARMY THEN SPENT MY CAREER WORKING AS A WELDER AT ADAIR IRRIGATION. It was a cue card for the staff, to give them conversation starters and to remind them that her father was a real person before the monster had stolen him.
“You think it’s okay for…” Liv directed her glance at Tommy.
“It should be fine. If not, I can take him into t
he courtyard. The shelter brings over dogs to play with residents, so maybe there’ll be some puppies.”
“Puppies?” Tommy said, perking up.
Cindy knocked loudly, waited a beat, then opened the door slowly when no response came.
Their father was sitting in his old lounge chair from home, staring blankly at a television that had the volume muted. The room was spacious, at least—a hospital bed lodged in the corner and a small round table for meals.
Liv’s heart sank at the sight of him. He was too thin, the skin on his neck loose, his hands bony around the arms of the chair.
“Hi, Dad,” Cindy said in a loud voice.
Their father didn’t turn his head.
Cindy stepped in front of the television and crouched at eye level. “I have a surprise for you.” She stretched out her arm for Liv to come within their father’s field of vision.
Liv walked over. Tommy stayed by the door, a puzzled look on his face.
“Hi, Daddy,” Liv said.
Her father’s eyes lifted to Liv’s face. Then his own face brightened.
“Olive Oyl?”
Liv broke into a smile. He’d called her that since she was a little girl. They’d watched Popeye cartoons together, and he’d show her his tattoo and flex his biceps and laugh like the sailor. Though he hid it from the outside world, he was a tender man, her father.
She knelt down and put her hand on his, trying not to tear up.
Tommy strolled over to his mother. “Hi, Grandpa.”
“Danny boy!” her father said.
“I’m Tommy,” he said, offended.
His grandfather appeared confused.
“How about we give your mommy some time to catch up with Grandpa?” Cindy said, taking Tommy by the hand. He hesitated until Cindy added, “Was that a puppy I heard barking?”
Liv mouthed thank you as they left the room. It was then she saw the sadness in her sister’s eyes. Cindy had their father’s face, but Liv had his heart. She pulled a chair from the dining table and positioned it next to the recliner. They watched the muted television, a sports channel, for a long while. Her father held her hand, intermittently turning to her and smiling.
Unexpectedly, he blurted, “Where’s Eddie Haskell?”
It was her father’s nickname for Noah Brawn, Liv’s high school boyfriend and the soon-to-be governor. Haskell was a character from an old television show known for his insincere flattery and sneakiness. The nickname wasn’t meant as an insult. Just a recognition that Noah—with his politician’s charm, even as a teenager—wasn’t fooling her dad.
Liv was about to explain that she was married to Evan, but her father’s thousand-yard stare had returned. He was like a time traveler, jumping from year to year, place to place, the timeline scrambled along the way.
Liv’s mind did its own time travel. She was home on a break from Northwestern and had a dilemma. There was a boy, someone new—a decision to be made. She’d dated Noah throughout high school, but they attended different colleges. At first they’d stayed close—speaking every night on the phone, spending breaks together. But predictably, they started drifting.
And then Liv met Evan.
“What should I do, Daddy?”
“Who treats you better?”
“They both treat me well.”
“What do your heart and mind tell you?”
“Mind says Noah. He’s driven, wants to be governor someday, maybe even run for president. I know with him I’ll have a bigger life.”
“And your heart?”
Liv smiled, thinking of Evan. “I can’t explain it, but when he’s near me, I feel more at ease than anytime in my life. And he’s willing to come back to Adair like I want. He said he doesn’t care about Chicago or his career; he just wants to be with me. Have a family, make a life.”
Her father rubbed his chin. “I can’t make this decision for you, Olive Oyl.”
“What would Mom tell me to do?”
Her father gave a fleeting smile. “She’d probably tell you to go for the boy who wants to be part of your story, not just you being part of his.”
The grunt of a snore interrupted her thoughts. Her father’s head drooped to his chest.
Cindy popped her head in. “Tommy’s playing with the dogs. The staff said they could watch him for a few while we talk to the director.”
Liv softly removed her hand from her father’s and stood. She kissed him on his head. “Let’s get this over with.”
CHAPTER 22
The director of Twilight Meadows smiled at Liv and gestured for her to take a seat. Dennis Chang wore khakis and a Mister Rogers sweater. His desk was paperless, the office spotless, the domain of a perfectionist. Cindy didn’t say anything, just plopped down in the seat next to Liv’s.
“Mrs. Pine, thank you for meeting with me.”
“Call me Liv,” she said, trying to build rapport. If she couldn’t convince this man to let her father remain at the home, it would be a disaster.
“Liv,” Chang said. He took a breath. “I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.”
Liv nodded. She didn’t recall any Asian families back when she was in school. Nebraska wasn’t a cultural melting pot. But Adair was more diverse than most areas. Adair Irrigation attracted people from all over the country, luring executives with high pay and a cheap cost of living, the promise of an idyllic Mayberry existence for their kids. Even after moving away, the company was a mainstay in the Pines’ lives—Evan’s main client at his accounting firm was Adair Irrigation. Her father’s best friend from high school had been a vice president and had stuck by Evan even after he’d transferred to the Chicago office.
“I really hope we can work something out,” Liv said. “My father was a pillar of this community. He raised a family here, like his father. He worked at the plant for forty years, coached high school football. And he’s a kind, sweet man. He just—”
Chang held up a hand, not aggressively. Just an assuring gesture that she didn’t have to go on. That he knew all this. “No one is questioning your father’s character or the many, many contributions he’s made to this community. It’s just that, given his condition, I’m not sure we have the ability to give him the care he needs and deserves.”
Liv felt her eyes welling up. Perhaps it was seeing her father, being back in this town, but her emotions were raw. “Is there anything we can do? Maybe we could arrange to have an extra caregiver check on him periodically. Or maybe we can talk to his doctor about his meds. I saw him today. He was a bit confused, but—”
She turned to Cindy for backup. But her sister just sat silently, something resembling a scowl on her face.
Liv added, “He’s lived in Adair his whole life. And the other facilities are so far away, and…” She didn’t finish the sentence, noticing that Chang was about to say something.
“As your sister may have mentioned to you, we’ve been talking about possible solutions,” Chang said.
Liv looked at Cindy, who remained quiet.
“Here’s the thing,” Chang said, leaning forward. “My company has been trying to open several other facilities around the state, and we’ve been having licensing issues. One of our competitors has been raising baseless complaints. Not about resident care,” he added quickly. “But that we’re unfairly undercutting on price and trying to run other facilities out of business.”
Liv wasn’t sure where this was heading.
“Governor Turner wasn’t receptive, but the lieutenant governor—an Adair native, as you know—was always willing to at least hear us out. But his hands were tied.” Chang shifted in his chair. “You may have heard that—”
“That Noah Brawn will take over for Turner,” Liv said, finishing his sentence. And there was the rub.
Chang nodded. “I understand you were high school friends, and you may hold some sway with Brawn.…”
Liv’s hard stare returned to her sister, who didn’t look back at her. Then, against her better judgment, Liv sa
id, “Tell me what you need me to do.”
CHAPTER 23
SARAH KELLER
Even in the late afternoon, the State Department lobby was bustling. Men and women in business suits stood in line to check in at the long security desk stationed at the center of the atrium. Flags from around the world lined the perimeter. Keller thought she saw a national news correspondent, blond hair and big sunglasses, walking out of the building with an entourage.
After checking in, Keller and Stan were whisked up to the fifth floor. Unlike the modern glass-and-steel lobby, it had the feel of an old-time country club. Lots of portraits, heavy rugs, dark wood. Before they entered the back offices, a woman at yet another reception desk gave them a small key with a plastic fob engraved with a number. The receptionist directed them to a wooden cabinet that had tiny numbered drawers with keyholes. “Please store your phones in there,” the receptionist said. They didn’t need to check their firearms. Just the real security threat: their cell phones.
Brian Cook was another tall man. Sweet mother, Keller thought. But unlike the beefy FBI deputy director, Cook was thin and athletic, with a Midwesterner’s affability.
Following quick introductions, Stan said, “Thanks for fitting us in on short notice.”
“No worries,” Cook said, directing them to a worktable. His office was small for someone so high up at the State Department, Keller thought.
“DeMartini says you need help with one of our consulates?”
Keller briefed him on the death of the Pines.
“I haven’t watched the documentary,” Cook said, “but I saw the piece in the Times. What a tragedy. Such a handsome family. I understand our people aren’t giving you what you need?”
“I’m sure they have heavy caseloads, but we’re having issues with the consulate assigned to that area,” Keller said, charitably. “Matt Pine, the surviving son, is in Mexico. A consular officer was supposed to meet him at the airport to take him to Tulum to get the bodies released, but the consulate rep never showed. And he’s not returning my messages.”
