Taking cover in indignation, Sabina rose from the table, noisily put her mug in the sink, reached for her briefcase, and, without another word to her husband, set off for work.
Middle River was its bucolic self, but she saw little of the sun, little of the trees, flowers, or homes. What she saw were the Waxman twins, age five, riding bicycles in their driveway—and the Hestafield boys, ages eight and eleven, throwing a ball into a pitch-back on their lawn—and the Webster children, age one and three, being strapped into car seats by their mom. Middle River was full of children, all innocent of worry and dependent on the goodness of the town. She wondered if Ron realized that when he questioned her motives—wondered if Annie realized it when she pricked Sabina’s conscience—wondered if Aidan realized it when he issued ultimatums.
She arrived at the Data Center feeling entirely unsettled, and that, before she discovered a major electrical problem. Yes, there was a backup generator, but it was nowhere near as powerful as the regular current, which meant that anything she tried to do would be painfully slow.
She called Maintenance, then put several backup CDs in her briefcase. Electrical problems happened. She could always work in one of the other buildings.
But not now. She was so not in the mood. Once the electrician arrived, she went outside, crossed through the parking lot, and sank into an Adirondack chair.
Northwood Mill was waking up. She saw Cindy and Edward DePaw pass in their pickup, saw Melissa Morton, Chuck Young, and Wendy Smith in their vehicles, all on this road as opposed to the plant road, because strapped safely into the backseat was a child—destination, the day care center.
Antsy, Sabina pushed herself up and headed across the grass, over a knoll and through a cluster of trees to the marketing department. Part of the Administrative Campus, it was housed in a redbrick Cape comparable with Sabina’s Data Center. Selena Post worked here. She and Sabina had become co-conspirators in school when aging teachers confused their names. They still had coffee together from time to time.
Selena’s office was warm after a night without air, and filled to the brim with stacks of promotional materials. “Major mailing this week,” she told Sabina by way of explanation for the mess.
Sabina slid into the chair by her desk and said in a very low voice, “Mercury. Know anything about it?”
“Oh yeah. We’re clean. That’s always been part of our marketing claim.”
“Always?”
“Well, for the last few years. It was a while before people realized the harm mercury could do. Every new piece of equipment we buy for the plant is either toxin-free, or comes with the mechanism to nullify whatever toxicity is produced.”
“What about cleaning up after the mercury produced years ago?”
“Done back then. Northwood is cited by the state for its environmental considerations. We rank among the top in all of New England for the cleanliness of our plant. That’s one of the reasons we can afford to provide such extensive health care coverage for our workers and their families.”
Sabina knew there was a chance Selena was right—which left Alyssa’s death, Phoebe’s illness, and the ailments of so many in town unexplained. But there was also a chance that Selena had fully bought into the hype, or that she was truly ignorant of the problem. In any case, Sabina knew a hard sell when she heard it. Her gut told her that further discussion would be fruitless.
Closing the conversation with Selena, she proceeded on, this time walking along the side of the road, one building back to human resources. Her friend Janice worked there. Fortuitously, she was just climbing from her car when Sabina approached.
“Hey,” Janice said with a smile, but the smile faded when Sabina drew closer. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to ask you something, Jan,” Sabina said in a voice that wouldn’t carry past where they stood. “Do you ever hear anything about mercury here at the mill?”
“Not lately. Years ago, maybe. But it’s been cleaned up.”
“How do you know?”
“I have it from the horse’s mouth.”
The horse’s mouth meant one of the Meades. Sabina tried a different angle. “You handle requests for disability benefits, right?”
“Yes.”
“Permanent disability?”
“Some.”
“Have there been any suspicious ones? Any trends?”
“Like…?”
“Parkinson’s. Alzheimer’s. Chronic fatigue. Depression.”
“A few. That’s where the Meades shine. They come in and help. Not only is the basic benefit package solid, but they add things when the severity of the problem merits it.”
Sabina hadn’t heard about this before. “What do you mean, ‘add things’?”
“Money. It’s done in a quiet way, so that the recipient doesn’t feel as though people are looking and saying they’re pure charity cases. The way it’s done, they maintain their dignity. But they are taken care of.”
Sabina just bet that they were. It was called “hush money.” “Do they sign papers promising not to tell?”
“No,” Janice chided. “I mean, I have no idea what’s said face-to-face in the privacy of Sandy Meade’s office. He handles it himself. He says it’s one of the best parts of his job, putting people’s minds at ease.” She hesitated. “Why do you ask?”
Because, Sabina wanted to say, you have a little girl in the day care center as we speak, and she may be in danger. But she didn’t say it, because she didn’t have proof, and it would be wrong to create unnecessary fear. Just because Annie had presented a convincing scenario didn’t mean it was so. Troublemaker Annie, Ron had called her. Our very own Grace, stirring things up.
Sabina couldn’t count the number of times she had called her sister these things herself and felt perfectly justified doing it. But this time it didn’t feel right. She didn’t know why—Annie hadn’t revealed her source—but Sabina believed her this time.
She couldn’t explain all this to Janice, though. So she simply shook her head, said a teasing, “No reason. Just wondering what to expect in my doddering old age. Catch you later,” as Janice turned back to take her briefcase from the car.
Sabina headed back to the Data Center, but her thoughts had stalled. No, this was not a race between Annie and her. For the first time, truly it wasn’t. The dynamics between them had changed. This playing field was new.
Is the motivation Annie, or is it the cause? Ron had asked, and it was actually both, though in a surprising way. Sabina believed in the cause, but she also, for the first time, believed in her sister. If Annie had a source, it was a good one. Sabina wanted to be with her on this.
Call it a reaction to losing Alyssa. Call it a reaction to Phoebe’s symptoms. Call it the culmination of years of disdain for Aidan Meade. But there it was.
Several hundred yards shy of the Data Center, she abruptly shifted course. She headed north toward the picturesque little threesome just shy of the plant itself, and picturesque it was. There had always been something special about this area. It was typically the first to be cleaned, polished, landscaped. Sabina had always attributed that to the fact that these three—Clubhouse, Gazebo, Children’s Center—were used by Middle River. Suddenly there was another possibility. It was possible that the Meades kept the surface here utterly pristine quite literally to compensate for bad stuff that lay beneath.
What was it that Grace Metalious had said so many years ago—that to turn over a rock in any small New England town was to find bad stuff beneath? Middle Riverites had heard that quote more times than they could count. Each time, they nodded, chuckled, and went on with their lives.
Sabina couldn’t do that this time. There was merit to the quote, and if Annie was the one to turn over that first stone right here, Sabina was proud of her.
The Children’s Center was still dressed in the yellows and greens of summer—decorative flags out front, painted sign, protective awnings. She held the door open for a pair of mothers delivering their chil
dren, then followed them inside. It was a minute before she located Antoinette DeMille. Toni was the center’s director and one of Sabina’s most respected friends at the mill. Sabina found her in the infant room, holding a crying child that couldn’t have been more than three months old.
“Separation problems?” Sabina asked.
“Nope,” Toni said dryly. “Colic. Should be easing up any day, but until then, it’s tough. Breaks your heart to feel these little legs scrunch up against belly pain.”
Sabina nodded. She waited until one of the other teachers was free and took the child from Toni. Then she followed Toni out of the room.
Toni glanced at her as they walked. “You look like you need to talk.”
“Yes. But in private.”
Toni gestured her into her office and closed the door once they were inside.
Sabina didn’t mince words. “Not so long ago, Northwood used mercury as part of the process of bleaching the wood. That produced toxic waste, which was disposed of, and the newest processes don’t use mercury at all. Still, it’s in the river. Know how people aren’t supposed to eat fish?”
“They do anyway.”
“Yes, because the warning is always halfhearted. But I’ve been told there’s another problem, that some of the mercury waste was buried in large drums here on the campus, and that several of the drums have leaked.” She tied the fires and subsequent rebuilding of the Clubhouse and the Gazebo to this. “The Children’s Center was built on a burial site, too.”
Toni’s jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered. “Oh, I don’t think so. The Meades wouldn’t do that. There are children here.”
“What better place to hide illegal disposal of toxic waste?”
“And put children in danger?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. The Meades wouldn’t do that.”
“Do they have any children in the center?” Sabina asked, then answered, “No. So maybe they know something we don’t?”
“But the center’s been here for more than twenty-five years, and there’s been no unusual illness.”
“Because the drums are holding. But what if there’s a leak, like the leaks at the Clubhouse and the Gazebo? There would be a fire and a cleanup, but what harm would be caused in the meantime?”
“Those fires, Sabina. There were logical causes for both. Who told you they were set?”
Sabina hesitated.
Toni guessed. “This is coming from your sister, isn’t it? She’s been trying to nail Middle River for years.”
“Actually, not,” Sabina said. “She’s been gone a long time. She could have skewered us in a book, but she hasn’t, and she doesn’t plan to. This is for our mother and all those other people who’ve been sick.”
“Do you know they were here at the time of the leaks?”
“No.”
“There you go. I know you love your sister, but this time she’s out in left field. If you’d been talking about a mercury spill at the plant that was covered up, that’s one thing. People at the plant know the risks. But to say that the Meades would put innocents at risk is something else. I mean, the Clubhouse and the Gazebo are one thing. They’re used only occasionally. But there’s no way the Meades would build a day care center over a waste dump, not something that’s used every day and by children. If they realized there was the potential for harm here, they’d have razed the place early on, cleaned up, and rebuilt. We’re safe. Truly we are.”
Toni DeMille loved children. She had raised six of her own and had earned a degree in early childhood education prior to being named director of the Children’s Center at Northwood Mill. She prided herself on being one step ahead of the Children’s Center’s insurers, and was putting tots in for naps on their back even before it became the norm. She didn’t believe in taking chances when it came to the health of her kids.
For that reason, she found herself thinking more and more about what Sabina had said as the morning passed. As the afternoon progressed and the children of part-time moms started to leave, she was taking good, long looks at those children and thinking about it even more. She debated calling her husband, who worked in the plant. Or her neighbor, who worked in sales. Or her cousin, who worked with Sabina’s husband in shipping.
But that was how rumors started, and the Children’s Center couldn’t function in a maelstrom of rumors. So she went to Aidan Meade and told him what she had heard. She didn’t mention Sabina’s name until Aidan did, and then she couldn’t lie. When he made mention of Annie Barnes, they shared a chuckle. Annie did have that element of Grace in her. But Middle River was no Peyton Place. They agreed on that.
On the matter of mercury waste being buried under the Children’s Center, Aidan put her worries to rest. He denied there was anything buried anywhere. He said that the Children’s Center was the pride and joy of the mill, largely thanks to Toni’s vision and care, and that his family would never, ever do anything to jeopardize that.
Aidan Meade wasn’t upset. Quite the opposite, he was very pleased. He was a master at trumping up charges, but when real ones presented themselves, it saved him the work. When real ones presented themselves, he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone.
He stood at his office window until he saw Toni DeMille cross the road and head over the grass toward the Children’s Center. Then he picked up the phone and called the mill’s security chief. He didn’t check with Sandy; Sandy would only ask why he had waited so long to deal with the problem. Nor did he need Nicole punching out the extension for him. He knew what to do and wanted the joy of doing every part of it himself.
Within five minutes, the chief and two of his trusted guards reached Aidan’s office. Setting off on foot down the road, Aidan explained what they were going to do. When they reached the Data Center, he led the way inside and went straight to Sabina’s desk.
The two others in the office had looked up, but she was so engrossed in something on her computer screen that she didn’t appear even to know he was there. That clinched it. He felt no mercy at all.
“Sabina,” he said sharply.
She looked up in surprise. Her eyes strayed to his companions, then returned to his. She frowned.
Feeling immense satisfaction, Aidan said, “You’re fired. You have five minutes to take whatever personal belongings you have from your desk. Joe and his friends here will watch to make sure that’s all you take. Then they’ll escort you to your car and follow you out.”
Sabina drew back her chin. “Fired?”
“Done. Gone. Outta here.”
“Why?” she asked with what actually sounded like indignation.
“You’re spreading rumors about Northwood that have nothing to do with reality. Mercury? Excuse me. There’s no mercury here. Check with the New Hampshire DES. They’ll vouch for that.”
“I’m not spreading rumors. I’m asking questions.”
“Same thing,” he said and shot warning looks at her coworkers. If they wanted to keep their jobs, this was a lesson for them. “We expect loyalty. If you have a problem, you take it to the top. You don’t go skulking around asking little people here and there. Honestly, Sabina, I thought you were smarter than that. You aren’t good for this organization.” He shot a thumb toward the door and couldn’t resist adding a firm, “Now.”
She stared at him for a minute, and he could see her mind working. She was trying to decide how she could keep her job, whether apologizing would work, whether she ought to actually grovel, like a Barnes woman knew how to do that. Aidan didn’t envy Ron. He had his hands full with this one. She knew computers. Aidan had to give her that. But she was no match for a Meade.
Averting her eyes, she opened a drawer, removed her briefcase and purse, then stood. She had the gall to look amused. “Who’ll take care of your computers?” she asked.
“We have two others right here who can do what you do.”
“Is that so?” she asked with a crooked grin.
“What’s in the briefcase?” asked the security c
hief.
She opened the briefcase wide. Aidan watched while the chief thumbed through a few papers. From where he stood, they looked pretty worthless. He guessed that anything of value was there on her desk. Of course, if he and the guards hadn’t been there—say, if he had been stupid enough to fire her in his office and let her return to her office alone—she would have been filling that briefcase with everything she could that would help her double-cross Northwood. The Barneses were vindictive. This all went back to Annie and Cooper’s Point.
“She’s clean,” announced the chief.
Looking at Sabina, Aidan put his hands on his hips and hitched his head toward the door.
She actually smiled. “Thanks, Aidan. You’ve been a help.”
“A help in what?” he asked. Helping her was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Sorry. I gotta go.” She started off.
“A help in what?” he repeated, turning as she went.
She stopped at the door. “Since you are no longer my employer, I don’t need to answer that.” She raised a hand to the two workers at their desks, who had been watching every minute of the show. Then she winked at the guards, gestured them along, and, leaving Aidan totally up in the air, was gone.
Sabina drove straight to Phoebe’s. She found Annie in the kitchen making balsamic chicken salad for dinner.
“Can’t stay long,” she said at the end of the same breath in which she had told Annie she was fired. “Ron’ll hear through the grapevine, and I want to be home when he gets there. But Aidan was a huge help—so arrogant and heavy-handed and condescending and defensive that if I still doubted your theory, I can’t anymore. He’s despicable. And he’s hiding something. So I’m with you, Annie. Tell me what to do.”
Chapter 22
I WAS STUNNED—oh, not that Sabina had been fired. Aidan would do that, if for no other reason than to flex his muscle. What stunned me was that she hadn’t blamed me. After the way she had warned me off when I first came to town, this was a turnaround. She wasn’t even angry—at least, not at me. At Aidan, yes. She called him a first-class asshole, a word I’m reluctant to repeat, but which gives you a sense of where my sister was at. I don’t think she had thought out the long-range implications of being unemployed. Right now, she was actually happy about it. I never would have imagined that.
Looking for Peyton Place Page 29
