by Joyce Magnin
I saw Gilda Saucer sitting at the far end of the counter, closest to the bathrooms. She looked intent on eating her meatloaf, oblivious to the crowd or Eugene. But that figured, she hadn't been in Bright's Pond long enough to have an opinion about Eugene or the dog situation.
Dot filled my coffee cup, and I saw Zeb moving around in the kitchen filling plates with the specialty of the house. He spied me through the window and winked. "Extra mashed tonight, Grizzy?"
I nodded. I was about as hungry as the bear intended for Mickey Mantle's trap. "Sure thing, Zeb."
Dot placed my dinner in front of me and the aroma immediately lifted my gloom. It swirled around my head and into my nostrils and made me feel at home and at peace. I ate amid the clamor of the regulars and the clatter of dishes and utensils. Gilda finished her meal and walked down the skinny aisle much to the delight of the men, I was sure. She stopped near me.
"I was just wondering if you might be going back to Greenbrier tonight or tomorrow?"
"I don't know. Probably to see my sister. How's Walter?"
"Same. I was just wondering is all." Then she finished her runway walk out the door. Dot wiped the place next to me as Jasper York sat down. "That woman is up to something," Dot said. "It's all over town. Mildred Blessing is even staking out Cora's house waiting to see what happens."
"Steak?" Jasper asked. "Since when you got steak on the menu? It's meatloaf night."
"Not that kind of steak, Jasper. Simmer down," Dot said. "I'll get your special."
"I think you're right," I whispered. "I just don't know what to do. Or what I should do. I certainly don't want to see Stella get hurt."
"Me neither. I think Mildred should call in the real police."
"She is the real police. And the truth is that no crime has been committed."
"Pick up," hollered Zeb. "Get a move on Dot."
"Where's Babette?" I asked looking around.
Dot shrugged. "Not sure. She was supposed to be here seeing how it's our busiest dinner rush."
"Pick-up, now," Zeb called. "Stop your yakking, Dot, and take care of the customers."
"I am," she hollered. "Sometimes customer service is about talking to them." But that was as far as her argument got her. She grabbed the full plates from the pick-up window.
After I enjoyed my meatloaf I said good-bye to Zeb and Dot, both of whom were too busy to notice or care. Outside, I met Babette running like Alice's rabbit toward the diner, "I'm late. I'm late." She breezed past me, and then I saw Cliff near my truck. He was wearing his leather aviator jacket. It was worn and faded in places and made me think of John Wayne.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"Fine. How's by you?"
"Can't complain. When are you going flying with me again?"
My heart sped out of a sudden sense of thrill and trepidation. "Don't know."
"How's tomorrow?"
"OK, I guess. As long as nothing pops up."
"Good." He started toward the café. Stopped and turned. "Say, you planning on going over to Greenbrier anytime soon?"
I felt my brow wrinkle. Strange he should ask the same question as Gilda on the very same night. "Not sure. Maybe."
He nodded. "Well, OK. Are you going today?"
"Probably not until later. I need to take Ivy back to Shoops and check on Mickey Mantle."
"The dog I keep hearing about?"
"Yeah. Poor guy caught his leg in a bear trap."
Cliff winced. "That's awful. Is he all right?"
"Well, yeah, but let's hope he doesn't get another leg caught in a trap. A dog with three legs is one thing, but two?"
"Man oh man, it hurts just to think about it."
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I said. "I need to get going."
I knew Ruth would want to hear about the dog so I stopped at her place and invited her to come to Shoops with us.
"Oh, poor Mickey Mantle," she said. "Poor Ivy. How's she taking it?"
"Pretty well. A little worried about Mickey Mantle only having three legs, though."
"I can well imagine."
Ivy waited on the porch. She squeezed into the cab next to Ruth. "I'm so worried," she said.
"Did you get some dinner?" I asked.
"I couldn't eat a thing."
Ruth patted her knee. "He'll be OK, Ivy. Don't fret. Maybe they can make him a false leg, you know, like they do for them poor fellas that come back from the war."
"You think?" Ivy said. "I never heard of such a thing, not for animals."
What she said next escaped me. My mind kept turning back to Cliff and Gilda, suspicious of their sudden interest in my visiting Greenbrier.
It was dark when we got to the veterinary hospital but the door was open and there was a nice young man behind the front desk.
"I'm here to check on my dog," Ivy said.
"OK, what's the name?"
"Mickey Mantle," Ivy said. "Mickey Mantle Slocum."
The young man, who was wearing a pale blue lab coat, looked through a list of names on a clip board. "Oh, here he is. Come with me."
We followed him into a back portion of the hospital. It smelled of kibble and antiseptic.
"Oh, dear," Ivy said. "Look at him, lying there all bandaged up in a cage. I never seen anything more pitiful in all my born
Mickey Mantle opened his eyes. He recognized Ivy and attempted to get up. But we saw him grimace as pain shot through his body.
"Is he OK," Ivy asked.
The young man, who said his name was Bruce, opened the kennel door. "Sure. He might have some pain. But he'll be fine. He did well with the surgery and all."
"All?" Ivy said. "All what?"
"I just mean the whole ordeal," Bruce said.
Ivy stepped into the kennel and knelt near her dog. She patted his head and side. He lifted his head and licked her cheek. "It's OK, boy," Ivy said. "Mommy's here."
It was a happy, albeit tragic reunion as I saw Mickey Mantle's bandaged stump.
"Can they give him a false leg?" Ruth asked.
"False leg?" Bruce said almost with a chuckle. "Nah. But don't you worry. The dog will get along just fine on three legs. He'll be running and jumping in no time."
It was, at that moment, hard to believe.
After a while we said our good nights to Mickey Mantle and returned to Bright's Pond. I dropped Ruth off first and then headed back home. I sat out front staring at the place. It was big, big and spooky at night, and for a moment I could hear my mother calling me from the porch. I saw Agnes up at her window looking down on the children playing in the street. My heart swelled with nostalgia that quickly turned to sadness and then concern. I glanced at my watch. It was still early, not quite seven-thirty so I decided to head to Greenbrier just in case there was some reason behind Gilda's question, some ulterior motive for Cliff's sudden interest in when I was going to visit Agnes.
22
The nursing home appeared quiet and peaceful at night. The three flags out front waved and furled in the mountain breeze that carried a hint of wood smoke and burning leaves on it. Inside, the halls felt different in evening, dim lights, not as many professional looking people milling around. It was quieter. I took a moment to notice that the windows and walls were decorated with construction paper cutouts of sunflowers and pumpkins, scarecrows and autumn leaves. I touched one of the leaves thinking it strange that these people had grown older and were now making crafts proudly displayed like they were made by kindergartners.
"Hi Agnes," I said pushing open her door.
She was in bed with the TV on. "Hi, it's late to be here isn't it? But I'm glad you came."
"It is but I needed to come by. This stuff with Cliff and Gilda is getting strange. The whole town is talking about it. Rumors are swirling and even Cliff and Gilda have been asking questions."
"Really, tell me." She perked up and grabbed the dangling triangle and lifted herself straighter. "Doing more of this myself," she said. "I think I move more easily than I ever did at hom
e."
"That's great." I sat in the visitor's chair. Agnes turned off the TV. "The physical therapy is paying off."
Filled with a sudden sense of just how tired I was I told Agnes what was going on. "And so that's why I came tonight. I had this feeling that maybe Cliff and Gilda were planning on being here."
"Together?"
"Yes. I just don't know why. I mean if it was all innocent. If they were friends why would they be hiding that?"
"It does sound like something isn't right."
"Now look, don't worry, just keep your eyes and ears open."
"I got my spies," Agnes said. "I'll have a few of them linger around and catch what they can. They'll let me know."
"Good idea, but Agnes—" She looked up. "Be careful. I mean what if they are criminals?"
"We'll handle that. God is looking out for us. Don't you worry."
"I don't want to see Stella get hurt or even Walter if he's innocent."
"Go on," Agnes said. "See what you can find out."
I made my way slowly down the hall. I stopped several yards away from Walter's room and listened. But I couldn't tell anything from that distance. I needed to be closer. I crept closer and pushed open the door a sliver. I peeked inside and much to my surprise I saw Stella sitting next to Walter. I paused.
"And so you see, Walter," Stella said. "I hate your guts and all but I don't want you to die, and there's all this talk about that supposed fiancée of yours and that pilot fella Cliff. Are you involved in something weird, Walter?"
I coughed just so she'd know I was there. She looked in my direction. "Griselda, I . . . I didn't know you were coming out here."
"I just decided. I'm glad you're talking to your brother."
She moved her chair away from him. "Ah, who knows what he hears. Honest to Betsy, this is some terrible pickle."
I took some steps closer to her. "I know. But we'll get it figured out. Have you seen Gilda?"
"Nope. Just me. I've been here a little while—" she glanced at the clock. "My goodness, I've been here for over two hours. Well I had a lot to say to him. Making my peace I imagine."
"Is it helping?"
"I don't know. Feels good to get some of it off my chest but not knowing if he can hear is kind of like talking to a grapefruit."
A nurse came in and checked Walter's vital signs.
"They come in a lot," Stella said. "Checking this, checking that. Did you know they are feeding him through a tube? A tube stuck inside his belly. The other nurse showed me when she cleaned it and stuff. Hard to believe a man as big as Walter could live on liquid. Man needs steak."
The nurse left but not before smiling at us both.
"Speaking of steak," I said. "Mildred has decided to stake out Cora's house, and Agnes says she has her spies keeping a lookout too."
"For what?"
"Whatever. Some sign that something illegal is happening."
Stella shook her head. "All I know is that they're all looking for that treasure, and knowing Walter the way I do I would not put it past him to be involved in some criminal undertakings."
I let a sound escape my nose. It was hard to know anything. All we could do was wait until something actually happened.
Stella touched Walter's cheek. "I really don't want him to die, you know. I hate his guts—"
"I heard."
"Yeah, well, I guess I'm finally hoping we can make things right between us. Money don't matter anymore."
"Say," I said. "How did you get here? I just realized it. Did Nate drive you?"
She chuckled. "Nate? You serious? No. I took the bus. Did you know you can get practically everywhere by bus? They picked me up over near Personal's Pub and drove me all the way to Shoops where I got another bus that brought me here. Practically to the front door. I never knew you could get around town like that."
"Well, good for you, Stella. That gives you a little more freedom now."
"Kind of. I mean it's not like you flying in an airplane, but it is good to know that I can get around by myself."
"I'm here now so I'll take you home, unless you want to ride the bus."
"Oh, no, I'd love a ride home. The bus is great but it took me the better part of an hour to get here, and I am a little tired."
I looked at Walter. He seemed to me a kind man, but I suppose even John Derringer looked innocent when he was sleeping. I said a silent prayer that God would nudge Walter out of his coma. It would take a God-sized nudge I thought.
"So how come you're here?" Stella asked. "Agnes all right?"
"Yeah, yeah. I just . . . felt like coming by. And I'm glad I did."
"Why?"
"To see you. And I must say that I am so happy you're making things right between the two of you."
"It's up to him now," she said. "I said all I can say. I can only hope when he does wake up that he'll want to make it right with me."
"Oh, I think he will. It's been a long time and time does have a way of making hurts smaller. It's the distance. It's like being in the airplane and looking down at Bright's Pond with all that space between me and the town. Everything looked so small, even my troubles. From up there I had a sense that any problem could be solved. It's about perspective, I think."
Stella was not surprised to see Nate standing on the porch when we drove up.
"He's probably been standing there for hours looking for me. He probably stood outside a while, then went inside, out to the pumpkin patch, back to the porch, pacing like a tiger in a zoo cage."
"You didn't tell him you were leaving?"
"Oh, I told him. I think I've been gone a little longer than he thinks I should."
"He'll understand."
"No. He won't. He'll holler and get mad at me, but as soon as I put a big hunk of pie or something else to eat in front of him, he'll simmer down."
I watched for a minute, and she was right. I could hear Nate hollering.
"Where in jumpin' blue heck were you, Stella? I expected you hours ago."
I pulled away from the curb and went home to rest.
The next morning we held the final Harvest Dance Committee Meeting at the Full Moon Café. It was mandatory that everyone attend. The dance was now six days away and it was imperative that all the details were in place. I heard we sold out of tickets at church and Mildred ordered more for Vera Krug to sell in Shoops.
"Good morning," I said. Studebaker and Boris were there eating breakfast, as was Ruth. Dot had taken off her apron and squeezed into the large booth next to Boris. "I'll do my best to be here and take care of customers," she said. "Babette doesn't come on until after school."
"That's OK, Dot," Boris said. "We understand. Just keep an ear turned our way if you need to go handle a customer."
Zeb came out from the kitchen. "Morning." He kissed my cheek much to the delight of the committee. I tried my best to suppress a blush but I should have known better. It's just the way I am.
"Where's Nate and Mildred?" Studebaker asked. "They knew this was the final meeting."
"Nate will be here," Zeb said. "He's always late."
"But what about Mildred?"
"Oh, she's probably slinking around town looking for a reason to arrest Cliff Cardwell," Stu said.
"And Gilda," Ruth chimed.
"Criminy," Boris said. "I would love to know what is really going on, but like I told Mildred, she's got no evidence of any wrongdoing and she can't go following people without due cause."
"She's looking for it," Ruth said. "That woman's got a nose for crime like a hound dog has a nose for rabbit. She'll sniff something up."
"Well, this is America," Boris said. "People are innocent until proven guilty. Proven guilty, I said. We can't go arresting people on sniffs of reason."
"Hear, hear," I said. "I agree, Boris, but you got to admit there is something odd going on."
He dabbed toast into his egg. "Happens when strangers come to town, Griselda. I for one refuse to harbor suspicions until I have facts. Cold hard evidenc
e, indisputable fact."
"Goodness gracious, Boris," Ruth said. "You sound like a lawyer. Like a real lawyer."
"I am a lawyer, dag nab it. I just don't get to practice it much." Boris pulled himself up and thrust out his barrel chest. He always wore the same three-piece gray suit to meetings with a white shirt and a fancy tie. That morning he wore a tie with a hula dancer on it. Her eyes lit up when he pushed a small button on the back of the fabric. We'd seen it about a million times but he still got a charge out it. "What will they think of next?" he always said.
Nate finally lumbered into the café like one of his bulls. "Did I miss anything important?"
"No, not really," Stu said.
Nate grabbed a chair and pulled in as close as he could to the table. "Hope breakfast is on Zeb today. I'm starved."
"We were just talking about Cliff and Gilda," Boris said.
Nate craned his neck. "Ah, why doesn't everyone leave them alone? They ain't doing nothing wrong. Cliff couldn't help it if he needed to land his plane up on Hector's."
"Then why is he still here?" Ruth asked.
"He likes it here. Who knows, maybe he'll move here. Besides he said he discovered another minor problem with his plane. Needs a part, forget which one, but it needs to come from Wilkes-Barre."
"Why don't you just drive him?" Boris asked.
"He'd rather wait. Like I said, he likes it here."
Dot stood. "Let me get your breakfast, Nate, and then maybe we can discuss the dance."
"The dance," I said. "Yes. So where do we stand on the arrangements?"
Boris cleared his throat in an effort to remind me that he was the dance committee chairman.
"Sorry, Boris," I said.
"Now, now," Boris said. "Where do we stand on the arrangements?"
Nate glanced around the table. "Where's Mildred? I hope she isn't out there spying on Cliff and Gilda. That woman should be arrested herself for unlawful spying or whatever you'd call it. Shouldn't she be arrested Boris? Can't you stop that woman from making a public nuisance of herself?"
"Don't worry, she'll be here. I know she had to take tickets into Shoops," Stu said.
