Us? Holy shit, does she think I’m normal?
21 | “You’re Under Arrest”
Lee did a final walk-through of the house with Earl to create a punch list of items that needed attention. Afterwards, Lee plopped himself down in the middle of the living room floor to take it all in. He felt happy and excited, but at the same time scared. But most of all he felt satisfied—a feeling he wanted to bottle up and put on his new mantle.
Later that day, he felt compelled to let his parents, or whoever they were, know he was moving out of their lake house. After long internal deliberations with himself about what he was going to say, he called his mother.
“As soon as I’m settled, I would love for everyone to come for a visit,” he told her through gritted teeth. While extending an invitation to someone who had betrayed him his whole life was agonizingly painful, he knew it was the right thing to do.
“We’ll see, Lee. Henry is still, shall we say, disturbed by your behavior Memorial Day weekend. He needs time to—”
Her words sucked any politeness he had right out of him. “I understand. Well, I must be going. I’ll call you with my new phone number as soon as it’s installed. Goodbye...” He stopped short of calling her Mother. “Well, goodbye then.”
As soon as he hung up, he regretted ending the phone conversation so abruptly, but when she practically defended his father’s contempt for him, all he could think of was getting away from them as soon as possible.
He went to the kitchen to say goodbye to Shaneta. First, he gave her a big hug, and when he let go, she had tears in her eyes. “I’m going to miss you,” he told her.
“I’m goin’ to miss you, too, Lee.”
“When are you going back to Evanston?”
“I’m not,” she said as she clutched a dishtowel close to her chest.
“You’re not?”
“Mrs. Winekoop said they don’t need a second cook there, and when they come here, they plan to eat at the club.”
He was fairly sure he hadn’t heard her correctly. Her thick accent made it hard to understand her at times, and the added emotion in her voice now made it even harder. “What did you say?”
Shaneta didn’t respond.
“Does this have to do with Memorial Day weekend?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. When you moved in and they sent me up here, I thought maybe I was on my way out. Mrs. Winekoop was findin’ things wrong with mi work lately.”
“I have a good mind to tell her—”
“Don’t, Lee. It will only make matters worse.”
“Where will you go?”
“She told me I can stay workin’ here until I find somethin’ else. As long as I’m gone by Labor Day when they have their big fall soiree. They’re bein’ very generous, Lee. A good severance check and everythin’.”
The current job market wouldn’t be kind to someone Shaneta’s age, and being a black woman with a thick accent made her even less marketable.
“Shaneta, when I said back in May I’d have your back, I meant it. If you can’t find something in the next...Labor Day? That’s in less than three weeks.”
“I know.”
“Look, you won’t be able to—”
“I can go to Detroit and live with mi sister.”
“Your sister?”
“It will be fine.”
“Your sister, the one you said has one boyfriend after another coming to live with her?”
“She’ll calm down...one of these days.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Until I find somethin’ else.”
“No, I won’t hear of it. Look, they’re starting to build the greenhouses for Dr. Rad, and—”
“Dr. Rad?”
Oh, shit. Can I say that? Too late now. I already did.
“Yes, I am partnering with him on his research. He’s going to manage fifty acres of my land, live here, do his research here.”
He tried to recall the exact language of the terms of his inheritance. All he remembered was he couldn’t divulge them to anyone.
“What I was about to say, is you can stay with me. I have two extra bedrooms on the first floor, and then...”
“Then what? All I would be doin’ is postponin’ the inevitable.”
“You can stay with me until we figure something out. In fact, I insist on it. And let’s face it, we’re kind of kindred souls at this point. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, no. What will your family think?”
“Do we care?”
Shaneta’s smile revealed her response.
“I guess the fair thing for me to do would be to let you see it first, before you move in. Why don’t you come with me now. I just have to load all my things in the car, and that won’t take but a few minutes.”
“I can’t just leave like that. I have...”
“You have what?”
Shaneta shrugged. “Well, nothin’ I guess. I’ll meet you in the car. One more thing, Lee.”
“Yes?”
“Dr. Rad.”
“What about him?”
She hesitated. “Nothin’.”
* * *
It took Lee little time to settle into his new house, which quickly came to feel more like a home than any place he had ever lived. The furniture Francine had helped him pick out suited him—it was masculine, but not too masculine, and cozy and fit well with the A-frame style of the house.
Shaneta settled into her new room with surprising ease. He took her shopping to pick out sheets, towels, curtains, and a bedspread—a gesture Shaneta considered magnanimous. She chose the room in the northeast corner of the house, the one with a sliding door that opened onto a private rear deck and offered a clear view of the rest of the property.
Of course, she insisted on doing all the cooking and cleaning and told him if he said no, she was going to do it anyway.
“Just give me some notice when you’re not goin’ to be here for dinner,” she told him. “So I don’t cook for nothin’.”
“I wasn’t very good about that before, was I?”
She pursed her lips. “But I was bein’ paid, so I couldn’t say anythin’.”
“We’ll start over. Deal?”
“So can I throw in some good down-home Jamaican food for you from time to time?”
“You bet. Say, let’s invite CJ and her clan over for a housewarming party. Some other people too. All Jamaican food. Will you help me with it?” He paused. “And then join us?”
“When?”
“How about Labor Day weekend?”
“Be careful, my friend, I could get used to this.”
* * *
“Toss me a cold one, will ya, CJ?” There were more people than usual at the inn. “So what’s going on? It’s a madhouse in here,” he said to her.
“There’s a going-away party for some McHenry County sheriff going on.”
“McHenry County?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Is DeRam here?”
“Yeah, he’s here.”
“Has he said anything to you?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
“I gotta go. They’re running me ragged.”
“Stop back when you have a minute, okay?”
She gave him an affirmative head jerk and disappeared to the other end of the bar.
It didn’t take DeRam long to spot Lee. He approached him with his usual cop-like swagger even though he wasn’t wearing his uniform. Lee didn’t get up off his bar stool.
“So what keeps you comin’ back here, Winecrap?”
“The name is Winekoop.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I know.”
DeRam’s disgusting smile made Lee want to slap it right off his face.
“It’s a free country...at least the last time I looked.”
“You’re messin’ around where you shouldn’t be, karate boy.”
Lee shrugged. “I haven’t broken any laws. And you?”
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DeRam lowered his voice. “Just make sure you know what business is yours to mind and what belongs to someone else, ya hear?”
“I’m sorry. Did you say something? It’s so loud in—”
The sheriff leaned in and whispered near Lee’s ear, “You heard me, smart ass.” His cheap cologne caused Lee to stifle a cough.
Lee watched him walk back to his group. Whatever DeRam said to the others caused two of them to slap him on his back. Lee cringed at the thought DeRam was bragging about bullying him.
After the party was over and the crowd at the bar had thinned out, CJ made her way over to Lee.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing. Just some bullshit.”
“Why, Socrates, I’ve never heard you swear before.”
“He does that to me. Listen. I’m all moved in to my new place, and so is Shaneta, but that’s another story. We’re going to—”
“Get outta here. You and Shaneta?”
“Not that way, you ditz.”
“Ditz? Did you just call me a ditz?”
“Sorry. I got carried away.”
“Well, keep it up. It suits you.”
“Anyway, we’re going to throw a little housewarming party on Labor Day weekend, and I’d love it if you, Francine, and the boys could come.”
“Most definitely. Can we bring something?”
“Just yourselves. And just so you know, Shaneta is cooking a boatload of authentic Jamaican food.”
“A theme party, then. None of us has ever had Jamaican food.” She shot him a sidelong grin. “So what will your family eat?”
“They won’t be there. They always have a big Labor Day affair at the lake house on that weekend.”
“You’re not going?”
“Apparently I wasn’t invited.”
“Whoa.”
“Long story.”
* * *
Lee stopped by Earl Lundberg’s office the next day to ask him about building a small guesthouse on the property. Earl told him that he could probably start construction in November, and it would take about the same amount of time as the first house, maybe less if he didn’t go A-frame. They talked a bit about the costs, and then Lee said he would be back in touch with Earl about it.
His next stop was Rockford Coin and Stamp to get an appraisal on the coin collection he had inherited from “Uncle Nelson,” which was still in a safe deposit box in Chicago. He had seen it only once a few years back, at which time he had jotted down descriptions of some of the more interesting-looking coins.
Lee described what he thought he had to the owner of the store, who said he would be more than happy to appraise them, but due to the potentially high value of the collection, only if they met on neutral territory with a third party present. Lee called the Winekoop family attorney in Chicago and arranged for the three of them to meet at the bank the following week for the appraisal.
When Lee got home, he called Stonebugger’s secretary and asked her if she would ask Stonebugger if he had any issue with him constructing buildings on the property using his own funds, not from the trust fund. She said she’d get back to him.
The next week, Lee drove seventy miles to the First Chicago Bank, where the coin collection had been residing for the past twenty-seven years, to meet with the attorney and the Rockford coin expert. When the three had settled themselves at a large table in a private room, the appraiser tenderly opened the oversized lockbox containing Lee’s inheritance. He inspected each coin through a magnifying lens attached to his glasses, stuck a label with a number on each, and created a written inventory that included the coin’s shape, color, denomination, date, size, and inscription. He did this with amazing speed, picking up a coin with his left hand and hand-writing the information with his right, sometimes picking up the next coin before he had finished writing about the previous one.
When all was said and done, the inventory included 253 coins. The appraiser told them off the top of his head, it wouldn’t surprise him if Lee had a quarter of a million dollars worth of coins.
He went on to explain that he would provide Lee with estimates of market value and replacement value for each coin, as well as recent auction prices if available. He said he had no doubt that all the coins were authentic, but if Lee required certificates of authenticity, there would be an extra cost. When Lee asked him if he would consider buying some of the coins himself, he said that he would indeed and could give Lee a better price than a wholesaler.
Lee basked in the satisfaction he was feeling from being in control of his own actions. Determined to keep the ambiguity of his family situation from interfering with his newfound gratification, he vowed, at least for now, to avoid any communication with them.
Two weeks later, the coin appraisal arrived in a large box—one sheet for each coin. In his cover letter, the proprietor provided a tally of $315,900 for the whole lot, the most valuable coin being a 1943 bronze wheat penny with an estimated market value of $55,000. He also included a list of the coins he wished to buy from Lee and what he was willing to pay for them. His offer totaled $75,000.
“Thank you, father,” he said to the heavens. “You just paid for my guesthouse...and then some.”
* * *
In the days preceding Labor Day, Lee woke up every morning to the intoxicating aromas of Shaneta’s jerk-spiced chicken, ackee and saltfish, pilau, stewed peas, coco bread, banana fritters, and plantation tarts, as she prepared for the housewarming party.
On Labor Day morning, Lee dressed in a tie-dyed t-shirt Shaneta had made for him, khaki-colored linen pants, and a Panama hat. He went outside, and greeted by a warm sunny day, watched Shaneta decorate the patio with lanterns, bamboo torches, and red, yellow, and green streamers. She then placed bowls of bananas, mangos, and pineapples out on tables set with brightly colored paper tablecloths. The floral centerpiece, with a paper toucan nestled among the petals, was her finishing touch. To make his own contribution to the ambiance, Lee brought out a tape player and a recording of Jamaican folk music that he’d picked up at a local record store.
CJ, Francine, Wayne, and Travis arrived at noon, all sporting tropical shirts. One by one, gifts in hand, the other guests arrived, all the same people who had come to his Memorial Day barbecue, minus the Winekoops.
Once everyone had toured the new house, they all went out to the patio table where Shaneta had placed a half-hollowed-out coconut by each place setting, complete with a paper umbrella and hibiscus flower. Lee poured Jamaican punch into each one, spiked for those who wished to imbibe. The amount of food on the table would have easily fed twice the number of guests. Lee sat back and enjoyed the cheerful conversations while they passed the dishes around the table—conversations that differed considerably from the ones he’d overheard on Memorial Day…delightfully normal conversations.
At the end of the meal, Lee stood up and tapped a spoon on his water glass to get everyone’s attention. He thanked Shaneta for her contribution to the party and invited his guests to partake in a lively limbo contest. Afterwards, he said the girls could have their nails painted by an artist who would soon arrive and that there would be dessert and a gift-opening ceremony after that.
Just as the limbo contest was about to begin, Lee saw his brother Bennett emerge from the side of the house. Lee hadn’t spoken with him since their awkward run-in on the phone. His brother wasn’t smiling, and Lee’s first thought was that something had happened to their mother.
“Is everything okay?” he asked him.
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. It looks like I picked a bad time to come see your new house,” Bennett said.
What’s he up to?
“No problem. You’ve met everyone here.” Lee gave him a puzzled look. “I would have thought you’d be at the lake house today for their big Labor Day party...with your family.”
“Can we talk in private for a minute? I won’t take you from your
guests for long. I promise.”
“Okay.” Lee excused himself and led Bennett into the house.
Bennett didn’t waste any time getting to the purpose of his visit. “I’ll make this short. I’ve done a lot of thinking since we last spoke, and I have to tell you, well...I have to tell you that you were right. You were absolutely right.”
“About?”
“Me. I’m not connected with myself. I never have been. You said it perfectly that day on the phone—I’ve been more interested in what others think about me than I am in what I think about myself. It took me a while to come to that realization...even after you flung it in my face like you did.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Lee said.
“Don’t be. I’m certainly not.” He reached out for Lee’s hand. “Peace?”
They shook hands.
“Of course.”
They had never shaken hands before. Hadn’t ever touched each other before. Lee studied Bennett’s face. He hadn’t realized until now just how handsome a man he was—strong jaw line, dark wavy hair, warm green eyes, and one of those smiles that made you feel at ease.
“And that speech you gave Mother and Father after the picnic, when you told them you were your own person, not someone molded by their expectations...bravo. They needed to hear that. We all needed to hear that.”
“I was scared to death saying what I did.”
“You had courage to say what you did.”
“Thanks for saying that. Means a lot to me.”
“You mean a lot to me, and I really mean that.”
“So why aren’t you at Mother’s party?”
“I was. I feigned a headache so I could come over here.”
“And your family?”
He hesitated before speaking. “Daphne left me. And she took the children with her.”
“What?”
“She went back to Colorado to live with her parents.”
“What about you? What about your kids?”
“I have an attorney. We’re trying to work things out.”
Red Clover Page 18
