by Ann Minnett
Nerd man and Kirk asked for a beer. Nora brought out one for herself as well.
“I’ll take one of those beers,” Lark said.
“No way,” Dee said. “Now, tell us what happened.”
Lark shushed her visitors although she had been the one shouting. "It's a school night." Right on cue, Zane joined her on the couch to accolades of concern from Aunt DeeDee and Aunt Nora.
Lark began her tale and Zane filled in details of the fight.
* * *
Lulu snuggled tighter into Rob’s armpit while poking her key blindly at the deadbolt lock on the door behind him. She lost her train of thought, sank fully into him, hiking a long leg around his hip. They kissed deeply and fumbled, both drunk from an afternoon of snooker and a lot of beer.
Rob said, “Gimme that key.” He grabbed it from her hand and promptly dropped the key ring on her mat. Raven sniffed, momentarily distracted from human grunts and the odor of sweat.
“Uh-oh,” Lulu said. “Better hurry. Jordy gets off at nine.”
Rob’s entire body flinched. “Jordy?” He retrieved the keys.
“My roommate,” she said, stroking Rob’s belly under his shirt. “You met him skiing that day.”
He backed away from her as the door swung open and Raven barged in to sniff around. One bed. Kitchenette along a wall and one door ajar to the tiny bathroom. She stumbled in ahead of him, checking her phone.
"Oh, my God!" Lulu shouted.
Had she detected his hesitation? "Everything all right?"
Lulu ignored him and stared at her phone’s screen.
"What happened?" He stepped inside. Raven reconnoitered the apartment.
"My sister’s in trouble." She fished out a pair of faded jeans from the clothing pile in the corner and pulled them on over her tights. "Shit. Jordy has my car."
He glanced at the open doorway, wanting to run.
"You can drop me off at my sister's. Right?" The adorable Lulu tossed cosmetics and some underwear into her immense bag.
"Sure. Let’s go."
Raven understood and made a bee-line for the door where Rob stood.
Outside, Raven peed in the bushes while Rob and Lulu got situated in his still warm truck. He told himself to remember this drama the next time he craved human company. Once again, Lulu relieved him of making small talk on the short drive to her sister’s. She explained that her big sister and nephew had been in a wreck on Monday and in a fight a few hours earlier this evening.
"Both of them?" He envisioned dropping Lulu off at a tawdry trailer park and escaping before some meth head scratched his shiny truck. The sister sounded like a reality television star.
"Uh-huh." Lulu squirmed in her seat. "It all started with a break in, but Zane’s mostly innocent."
Mostly innocent? You couldn't make this up.
It had started to snow. Approaching Whitefish from the north where Lulu lived, Rob didn't recognize where he was. They crossed the viaduct and turned right, paralleling the railroad tracks.
“Turn left at that corner,” she said. “It’s down a block and catty-corner from the Blue Heron Salon.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, preparing to bolt from the truck.
“Catty-corner where?”
“The corner unit. Stop here.” Lulu jumped out of the truck, flailing the sleeves of her jacket in the cold. "Call me," she yelled over her shoulder.
"Wait," Rob shouted after her. The commotion made Raven bark and twirl in the back seat. He lowered the passenger window and shouted, "Your sister lives here?"
Lulu barged into the corner condo without answering him.
“I’ll be damned. Lark and Lulu are sisters.” He turned off the ignition. His grandmother's voice whispered, It's a God thing, Robert.
Curiosity trumped a vague worry that Lulu might think him needy. He followed her inside a minute later. The several people crammed into the tight living room fell silent and stared at him.
“I’m with Lulu,” he said. But the girl he could still smell on his clothes ignored him.
The others turned back to Lark who said, "And Zane protected me from that bastard, Mick."
Whew, tough crowd, Rob thought, however grateful for the scrutiny to be lifted from him. He checked out the others. Yes, Lark and a teenaged boy sitting close together on the couch looked worked-over. Lulu had plunked herself down on Lark’s far side, and a cast of misfits sat in a tight circle with all eyes on Lark.
Lulu interrupted Lark’s mumbles by kissing her cheek. Lark stopped speaking. Slowly, her smudged half-mast eyes focused on Rob, who remained by the door.
"Don't I know you?" She slurred her words. Her bleary eyes glared at his boots.
Puddles now formed under and around Rob’s moisture-proof boots because he’d taken the shortcut across her snowy yard. He shot her an apologetic smile and stepped on the mat. Here he was, seeking social interaction again and feeling awkward.
Lulu scooted closer to her sister. "Mick's just plain mean. I dated him last summer. Remember?" No one commented. "Is he locked up?"
"Lulu? What're you doin' here?" Lark slumped into the couch's cushions with her good arm resting behind her battered son.
"I've come to save the day, sister."
Lark waggled a finger. "Tell that man to remove his shoes."
Rob began the laborious process of unlacing his boots.
"You should be in bed, sister." Lulu reached across Lark to place her hand on Zane's chest. He raised his sleeve to reveal a raw bruise. "You, too."
Zane pecked his mother’s forehead. "Go to bed, Mom."
"Right." She perked up at the boy's touch, ruffled her half-butch hairstyle and stood. "I have to work tomorrow. What's tomorrow?" She swooned and sat again.
Rob volunteered, "Thursday."
"Oh." She hobbled like an old woman and then stopped to examine a nasty hematoma below her shoulder. "Would you look at that. Damn Mick."
A blocky woman rose to her full spiked heel height. Rob had seen this glittery overly-done person in the parade. She said, "Honey, you call if you need anything. I'll check in on you tomorrow between clients."
"You're so tall, Dee," Lark said.
"I know."
A fat woman, also from the parade, whispered in Lulu's ear, and Lulu said, “I will.”
"No secrets, you two." Lark wobbled, steadying herself on a chair back.
"Oh, boy." The fat woman tugged on her snow boots. "C'mon, Kirk. Let's give Ms. Fancy Shoes a ride home."
Fancy Shoes was a girl best described as apple-shaped. Huge boobs and protruding stomach balanced atop smallish hips and skinny legs. As interesting as she was, Rob focused on Lark who followed the comings and goings like a spectator at Wimbledon until her eyes rolled back, and her forehead came to rest against Lulu’s shoulder. When the other man and woman stood to leave, Rob stepped aside to make way for them.
Once the five had left, the teenager scrutinized Rob. The kid ‘s vertical growth hadn't filled out. Mid-teens, he figured. To Rob’s surprise, the kid challenged his stare as he passed by. The kid was taller and seemed self-satisfied about it. Lark's son had attitude despite a swollen nose and bandaged forehead—maybe because of his injuries.
The door to the kid's bedroom closed quietly, and Rob turned his attention to the sisters. Both watched him silently. He raised his eyebrows. “What?”
Lark looked like hell, especially huddled next to her younger sister, a golden girl.
"Who's this?" Lark asked.
"He's Rob. Isn't he cute?" Lulu's forehead leaned into Lark's, sharing a sisterly confidence.
"I'm in the way here. I should go. Can I drive you home?”
Lark kept squinting from across the room. Her eyes focused, unfocused. She didn’t recognize him, and it hurt his feelings.
His patience waned. "I met you at Patty's."
Her fingers tried but failed to snap. "Raven," she said. "I remember Raven. Where's your fish hat?"
Yup. She’s loaded.
Lulu
protectively patted her sister's shoulder. "I'll stay here tonight and sleep on the couch in case they need anything."
Lark reoriented herself toward a bedroom off the living room. "I gotta be at the Moore’s place by eight in the morning. Just let me sleep." She skirted the misarranged chairs and shut the bedroom door behind her. From behind the door she said, “Oops, no I don’t. They fired me.”
He had a million questions. Now alone with Lulu, he asked, "Why would anyone beat them up? An ex-husband? Old boyfriend?"
"Oh, no. Lark never married." She made him sit and told him what she knew of the story. All the while, her legs rested across his lap, and she fiddled with his belt buckle.
"What a train wreck,” he said. Lulu stiffened at his remark, so he clarified, “She made one bad choice after another."
"Why would you say that?" Lulu swung her legs and put both feet on the floor.
"She reminds me of someone I used to know." His hand slipped up Lulu's sleeve. "But that girl got into trouble."
"You got it all wrong. She's had bad luck like the rest of us, but my big sister is the toughest, most stubborn woman I've ever known. Just ask anybody."
"And she went to the University of Missouri, right?"
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
He shrugged, assuming she'd keep talking.
"I was a kid then," she said.
"That would have been fifteen years ago, right?"
"What? I don't know." Lulu got up from the couch and took his hand. "C'mon. Kiss me and get out of here."
He wanted stay but tolerated her chaste kiss and dismissal.
Once outside, Rob let Raven out to do her business, then he climbed into his truck with relief. He welcomed the half hour drive home to ponder the events of the day, especially in the past hour.
Lark's life was a train wreck, and why not? No husband in the picture, one bad choice after another, and clearly the woman thrived on drama. Had her decline started back in college? Or had that long-ago night been no more than one fuck-up of many? From the looks of it, she hadn’t come too far.
The hum of studded snow tires whirring on pavement at sixty miles per hour took on the tone of his grandmother’s gentle voice. It's a God thing.
He had an epiphany as he turned onto Star Meadow Road. He had misinterpreted his grandmother's words. It wasn't a miracle to meet up with Lark after all these years, but rather to discover her white-trash background.
Victim, indeed. His conscience lightened, knowing Lark's history.
CHAPTER 8
A padded envelope with five hundred in cash—all twenties—arrived in Lark's mailbox the following Monday. Postmarked locally with no return address, the mailer contained no note. Her mother, an unlikely donor, hadn't sent it, nor had client/attorney Alice. Her housekeeping clients barely knew the meaning of a tip, so none of them would have sent her money anonymously. She stashed the windfall inside a shoe box and hid it on the top shelf of her closet.
In the days that followed, Lark's hand remained painfully swollen, but she got the hang of one-handed chores. Some second-home clients dropped her service as the families returned for skiing vacations and word about the break-in reached them. She replaced the drop-outs with commercial clients, including Stanhope & Stanhope law offices and their nephew's tanning salon. Lark cleaned both places before they opened each weekday, The Tan Man on Saturday as well.
Lark used to enjoy chatting with the women who hired her, took pride in their trust in her with their gorgeous homes. A week into her new early morning schedule, Lark came to experience a different satisfaction. She thrived on the silence. She rarely listened to music while working because she wanted no surprises, no client walking up on her from behind unannounced. Lark wanted her wits about her in the solitude. And she was doing all right financially despite the setback with Zane. They had settled into new routines. Zane had begun his community service, picking up trash along Highway 2 on Saturdays, and he occasionally worked for his grandmother after school. Lark didn’t know how Patty afforded his assistance at eight dollars an hour.
Life had resumed some normalcy when the second stack of money arrived in the mail a week after the first. Another five hundred in twenties in a padded envelope with no return address.
Lark threw it across the living room. The bills fluttered onto the carpet. Why the hell would someone think she’s a charity case?
* * *
McCord’s was illuminated solely by low winter sun streaming through one plate glass window, forcing Dee to examine the envelope with squinted eyes. She raised a black eyebrow. "Someone's sending you cash, and you don't know who?"
"Exactly." Lark tilted the beer bottle into her mouth, left-handed. "No return address."
“Oh hell," Dee said and pawed through her bag for reading glasses. "Let's see. Small printing, blue pen, all caps. Whitefish postmark. Yesterday."
"Mailed from Whitefish, just like the one before. They're definitely coming from the same person."
Dee pointed again at the postmark. "Look, it took extra postage. Whoever sent it had to go to the counter. Jenean might know who mailed this envelope." Dee's eyes sparkled with the mystery and possible solution.
Lark perked up, too. "I forgot about her." Jenean and three other women had been post office fixtures for years, if not decades. Each package or special delivery letter passed through their hands.
"Since it was mailed yesterday, Jenean or one of the others might remember who sent it." Dee laid the envelope in front of her like a winning hand.
Lark thought a moment. "Do post office employees have ethical restrictions? Val and Amy might not talk because of ethical crap."
"Who knows? My customers tell me things you wouldn't believe." Dee primped. "Well, you've heard most of the stories."
Lark checked time on her phone—too late to catch Jenean at work. She'd stop by in the morning.
Dee asked, "What will you do with the money?"
"Save it? Donate to Sister House?”
“You know they need a new computer,” Dee said. “Wouldn’t that make your updates and newsletter easier to get out?”
“Cheryl’s computer is crap, for sure.” Volunteering at Sister House was another important part of her life she’d let slide in recent weeks.
“Or repairs. The gutters are falling off the roof.”
“Okay, Dee, I get it. Sister House needs donations. Back to that man giving me money.” Lark took a long drink of her beer. “I can't help but think this is a joke, and someone will want it back, or will accuse me of stealing." Lark drummed her left-hand fingers on the table, thinking about her once stellar reputation. The locals knew her and hadn't changed their opinion, but the people with the money, the snow birds and rich Canadians—they had been the clients she lost after Zane’s burglary charges. She almost couldn't blame them. What did they know about Whitefish anyway? Tourist bars, carnivals, skiing, and their own kind who came down from the ski mountain to shop and have a decent meal.
“Well, someone wants you to have it,” Dee said, signaling for another Diet Coke. “And heaven knows you need the money.”
"I’d better head out. Zane's home by now and hungry."
"He's always hungry." Dee glanced up and smiled. "Hey, Nora."
Nora slammed her huge purse onto the table, knocking over Lark's empty. In the clamor to catch the rolling bottle, she said, "That's over."
"What's over?" Lark slipped the envelope into her purse on the floor.
"Kirk's having dinner with the ex and their kids." Nora slid her ample butt sideways into the bar chair.
Dee asked, "Weren't you and the twins invited?"
"I declined."
Lark added, “And the twins?”
Nora grinned sheepishly. “A sitter.”
"Well, there you are." Dee never showed patience with the couple's pettiness.
"Kirk went without me."
"You insisted." Lark had tired of the squabbles, too. "I heard you say so."
Nora thought
a moment and waved it off. "Oh, who cares. Kirk pisses me off. It's over."
"Is not, and shut up." Lark zipped her jacket. "I’m off to fix Zane's dinner. You girls be good, now that you're both single." She grinned and threw Dee a significant look, patting her purse and shaking her head.
* * *
Zane was hunched over his homework at the dinette table when Lark came home from McCord’s, a habit he’d slipped into since the dust-up with Mick. She liked seeing more of him in the evenings.
"Hey there." She hung her jacket and scarf on the hall tree and pried off her boots. He didn't flinch when she kissed him on the head.
"Hey, Mom."
"What's the news on Mason?" Mason's dad would kill him if he knew they remained friends.
"The same, but he's okay."
"And you?"
"I'm okay, Mom."
Zane kept his troubles from her until she eventually dug it out of him, but she let him off the hook tonight. She’d heard some kids had given him shit for the whole breaking and entering arrest and for ratting out Mason. But Mason wasn't a particularly popular kid, and the furor soon cooled. Surprisingly, Zane earned street cred for fighting off Mick Eidsvoldt, a known bad guy. If anything, Zane's popularity had risen with the aftermath of his crime.
After dinner, Lark sent an email to Jenean asking when they might talk. She had a question that only Jenean could answer.
Lark placed the additional five hundred dollars in the shoe box, set her alarm for 3:30 a.m., and crawled into bed at eight. She looked forward to quiet mornings now, completing a job early, waking up her son, and making him breakfast before school.
She fell asleep almost believing her problems would work out after all.
* * *
By ten o’clock the following morning, Lark had tidied Sky’s real estate office and the Stanhope’s law offices and scrubbed the tanning beds at Tan Man. Cleaning took her less time, as did everything else, as she adjusted to her injury. Life had improved. She checked her phone for messages. Jenean had responded to her email saying she went on break around 10:30 and would meet Lark behind the post office. Lark had plenty of time to get there.
