Once in a Blue Moon

by Sharon Sala

  Her entrance into the store did not go unnoticed. Almost everyone she approached stopped to comment something to her about her bravery, and the people who didn’t take time to come up to speak to her waved at her in passing.

  Between the story Mavis Webb had published and the ad the private investigator took out in the paper apologizing for his part in what had been a fearful time for her, she had become the best-known face in town.

  That was part of why she hadn’t wanted anyone to know about her presence at the Savannah Mall. She didn’t want to be associated with conflict and peril. She just wanted to be Cathy who loved Duke…and the newest resident of Blessings.

  She was outside putting her bags into the car when she saw a young woman come out of the store with a toddler on one hip and a little girl that might be school age trailing her. She was carrying two bags of groceries and hunched against the weight of the baby and the sacks in her hands.

  The little girl at her heels was wearing flip-flops instead of shoes and only had a little sweater over her clothes instead of a coat. The baby was in lightweight pajamas, and the woman was thin as a rail.

  Cathy pushed her cart back to the outside rack, curious as to which car the woman was heading toward, and then realized the woman was afoot. Without thinking she ran to catch up.

  “Hi, honey. I noticed you have your hands full here and thought you might like a ride home. My name is Cathy. I live over on Cherry Street. What’s your name?”

  The young woman stared, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

  “My name is Barrie. I live down in the Bottoms.”

  “Where’s that?” Cathy asked.

  “The other side of the tracks.”

  That’s when Cathy remembered. She’d been down there before. “Okay. If you’ll wait right here, I’ll go get my car and load you all up and get you out of this cold wind.”

  Barrie Lemons had been teased about her name for years and had given up trying to make lemonade out of the lemons life had given her. So when the woman turned around and ran back to a shiny red car, she was almost certain this was a joke and the woman would drive past her laughing for falling for it.

  But she was wrong.

  Cathy pulled up, then jumped out and took the sacks Barrie was holding. But when the little girl cried about being buckled up and having to sit in the back on her own, Cathy quickly solved the dilemma.

  “What’s your name, sweetie?”

  The little girl sniffed. “Lucy. My little brother is Freddie.”

  “Okay, Lucy, I have an idea!” she said. “How about you and Mama and Freddie all sit in the back, like you were in a fancy limousine, and I’ll be your driver. You can tell me where to turn and how to get to your house.”

  Lucy sniffed again, and then looked at her mother.

  Barrie nodded. “That would be fine.”

  Cathy got them settled in the back, and then got back in the car.

  “Okay…we’re leaving the parking lot. When I get to Main Street, which direction do I turn?” she asked.

  “Turn left,” Barrie said, and the little girl sitting beside her piped up, “Left!”

  Cathy hid a giggle. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She drove all the way down Main and was almost at the gas station at that end of town when she got her next set of directions.

  “Take the next street left. Cross the tracks and take the second street right,” Barrie said.

  “Street right!” the little girl echoed.

  Cathy smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Turning now,” and when she crossed the long-abandoned tracks and started downhill, she suddenly understood the meaning of the Bottoms. The cluster of houses below reminded her of dirty toadstools all clumped together…but not in a fairy ring. More like seeds in a garden that didn’t all germinate…and the ones that did were stunted and sterile.

  This place gave off a lonesome feeling, and Cathy didn’t understand why, when Blessings was so welcoming, this was still like this. As she turned right on the second street, the little girl cried, “Dat’s home!”

  “The one with the leaning porch,” Barrie added. Freddie had fallen asleep in her lap, so she shifted him to her shoulder so she could carry her things inside. “I sure do appreciate this.”

  “Oh, you’re very welcome. I won’t intrude on your privacy, but I will carry your things up to the porch,” Cathy said. “You get your babies inside out of the cold, and then you can come back for your things, okay?”

  Barrie Lemons was so struck by the continuing kindness that she could only nod for fear if she spoke again, she’d burst into tears.

  Cathy parked and got out, then ran around to open the door, and when the woman and baby got out, Cathy leaned in and unbuckled the little girl.

  “You did such a good job telling me how to bring you home. Thank you very much,” she said.

  Lucy beamed. “Welcome,” she said, and ran into the house behind her mother.

  Cathy grabbed the two sacks and carried them up to the door. The woman had left it ajar. The lights were on, so Cathy knew the family had electricity, but she could see inside just enough to know they were destitute. Even worse, she couldn’t feel any heat coming out the door although there was obviously an electric wall heater in sight.

  When Barrie came back, Cathy handed her the sacks.

  “I thank you,” Barrie said.

  Cathy nodded, then pointed to the wall heater. “That isn’t putting out much heat, is it?”

  “It hasn’t worked in two years,” Barrie said. “Landlord won’t fix it.”

  “Oh my God…how do you stay warm in the winter?”

  “We got a space heater from Salvation Army about three years ago. We use it when it gets bad, but it won’t heat more than one room.” Then she turned her back on Cathy and went inside, shutting the door behind her as she went.

  Cathy went back to her car and headed home, but she couldn’t get that family out of her mind. She kept thinking of how some people have too much, and some will never have enough, and then she thought of Blaine Wagner’s millions sitting in three banks…and an idea was born.

  As soon as she got home and her things put away, she googled Peanut’s office to get a phone number and then called it.

  Betty Purejoy, Peanut’s secretary, answered.

  “Butterman Law Office. This is Betty.”

  “Betty, this is Cathy Terry. Might Mr. Butterman be available to speak to me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just a moment, please.”

  A few seconds later, Peanut was on the line.

  “Hello, Cathy! How can I help you?”

  “First I just need a question answered. Who is responsible for the Bottoms? It’s a disgrace.”

  Peanut sighed. “Yes, ma’am, it is. Except for the few houses that were deeded over to the renters recently by their landlord at his passing, all of the others are owned by a different absentee landlord. And before you ask, I will tell you that we have tried to contact him for years without success about the deterioration of his property and the hardship it’s caused for the people living there.”

  “So, nobody helps them just because they don’t own their places?” Cathy asked.

  Peanut was silent a moment. “I never looked at it like that, but it appears to be the case, doesn’t it?”

  Cathy let that comment lie on his conscience and asked another question. “Do you have contact information for the absentee landlord?”

  “I know his name and how to contact him, but I can’t guarantee he’ll ever respond to your letter.”

  “I don’t intend to write to him. I was thinking about calling.”

  “Ah…not sure I have that info, but I know who might. Let me do some checking around and get back to you.”

  “Yes, sir, and thank you for your help.”

  “If I may
ask…what do you have up your sleeve?” he asked.

  “Not sure yet. I need more info before I make that decision.”

  “Okay, that’s fair, and for the record, it’s not sir…it’s Peanut. As aggravating as it is, that’s my name.”

  Cathy grinned. “Peanut it is, and I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  She busied herself making a sandwich, and then answered a text from Duke that made her laugh.

  Just checking in. Are you still alive?

  Really funny, Dude…uh, I mean Duke. Yes, I’m still alive.

  He sent a smiley face and a LOL, which made her smile.

  A short while later, she got a text from Peanut with a name, address, and phone number.

  “Hmmm, R.L. Meiner with a Brooklyn address. How in the world did someone from New York wind up owning land in Blessings? But there’s a phone number. So, here goes nothing,” she said.

  She sat down and made the call, listened to a multitude of rings and then a robotic voicemail.

  “Well…good grief if this is all I have to work with,” Cathy muttered, and left a brief message. “Mr. Meiner, I’m Cathy Terry from Blessings, Georgia, and I want to discuss the deterioration of the property you own here. The tenants are suffering from your lack of attention. I know slum lords are a thing where you live, but not here. I would like to discuss the possibility of buying the properties from you. Please call me at your earliest convenience. Winter is coming, and some of your tenants do not have heat. Not because they’re too poor but because nothing has been repaired in so long that the appliances they have don’t work.” Then she left her address and the phone number she was calling from, and hung up.

  She didn’t know what might come from this, but she also knew someone who might be willing to wave another flag on behalf of those suffering such hardship. She scrolled through her small list of contacts until she got to Mavis Webb at the Tribune.

  Mavis answered on the second ring, and Cathy started talking.

  “Hi, Mavis. It’s me, Cathy. I might have the next big story for you if you’re interested.”

  “Then get your butt down here to the Tribune and we’ll talk,” Mavis said.

  Cathy giggled. “I’ll be there in ten,” she said, then grabbed her jacket and her purse with the bullet hole and took off out the door.

  Mavis was waiting for her when she walked in. “Want a cup of coffee?” she asked.

  “No, I’m good,” Cathy said.

  Mavis led the way to her office, then closed the door behind them.

  “Sit, and tell me what’s going on.”

  “Have you ever been to the Bottoms?” Cathy asked.

  Mavis frowned. “Isn’t that what they call those little houses on the other side of those old railroad tracks?”

  “Yes. But did you know they’re owned by an absentee landlord who has ignored requests for years to address the situation there? I took a woman and her two babies home from the Crown today, and there wasn’t any heat in the house. She had electricity, but no heat, and I saw an electric heater on the wall. She said it hadn’t worked in two years and the landlord refused to fix it. She said she’s been using a donated space heater from Salvation Army that she was given three years ago…and she said it barely heats one room. The child was wearing flip-flops. She did not have a coat. The baby was in pajamas and no blanket, and the mother looked like she was starving. Those houses are pitiful, and I’d warrant the families are all living the same lives.”

  “And what do you think I can do?” Mavis asked.

  “I’ve called the landlord, asking to buy the property, but if I can’t get a response, then maybe we can shame him into either fixing the places or selling them to me.”

  Mavis’s eyes widened. “All of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I can’t think of a better way to spend some of Blaine Wagner’s money,” Cathy said.

  Mavis nodded. “Do you think they might cooperate with us…let me take pictures of everything that’s broken inside their houses…and take pictures of them?”

  “We can only ask,” Cathy said. “We have an absentee slumlord situation in Blessings that is appalling. I can’t believe it’s been let go this long, and I said so to Peanut Butterman.”

  “Then I’m willing to run the story, but I need to get background on the landlord and contact information for him, too.”

  “I can furnish that,” Cathy said. “Call it Operation Christmas Rescue, and talk to Barrie Lemons. She’s the young woman I took home. Tell her I’m trying to contact their landlord to force him to either fix the properties or sell them to me so I can.”

  Mavis nodded. “We’ll work on this together and see how it goes. I’ll go down there later and look around for myself.”

  “Awesome,” Cathy said, and took out her phone and gave Mavis all the information Peanut had given her. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

  Mavis grinned. She liked Cathy Terry, but now she was getting a glimpse of a whole other layer to her personality.

  Cathy went home, happier than she’d been in years. She had a purpose and the means with which to achieve a difference in people’s lives. Now she just needed R.L. Meiner to respond.

  * * *

  A whole week passed without a response from the landlord, but Mavis Webb had gone into full documentary mode, made friends with Barrie Lemons and a half-dozen other residents of the Bottoms, and was on a mission to get their stories and pictures of them and their living conditions, while Cathy was torn between two different passions—Duke, and her new project at the Bottoms.

  * * *

  The Bailey property was officially Talbot land now. The Bailey family had cleared the house of all the furniture, leaving it a shell of its former self.

  The renovation budget was in place, and the first thing Duke did was hire a crew of painters to give the two white wings of the house a fresh coat of paint and roofers to repair the broken shingles that had been damaged during the hurricane.

  He had a friend in Savannah who hooked him up with a reputable contractor named George, and now George and his reno team were gutting the kitchen and widening the opening between it and the formal dining room.

  The house was being transformed, and so was Cathy. She was fast becoming a fixture down in the Bottoms. Even though the landlord was still silent, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help them, and she began with the house Barrie Lemons was renting.

  She started by replacing the heater, repairing floors and replacing windows, then a new roof and insulation blown into the attic.

  Little by little, she was refurbishing the house, replacing appliances that didn’t work, and putting decent furniture inside the house.

  After Barrie’s house was done, Cathy upped her game and hired four separate crews working full time in the Bottoms, with two paint crews, plumbers, and two crews that did flooring and tile.

  The residents were ecstatic. Having decent living conditions, appliances that worked, and creature comforts was giving all of them a new sense of pride in themselves.

  When Cathy found out about the large number of the men living there who had lost their jobs when their vehicles needed repairs they couldn’t afford, she hired them to work on the project.

  In the midst of all that, she was picking out colors and tiles and flooring for her and Duke’s own house, running her selections by Duke during the evenings, and shopping and ordering local, or ordering online for delivery on the jobs.

  She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, but she was afraid to go back to Savannah. One day she’d have to face that fear, or accept that those killers had done what wild animals, the Alaskan wilderness, and a cheating husband hadn’t been able to do—and that was beat her.

  But right now, getting those homes fixed before Christmas was her goal, a
nd she was pushing hard for it to happen.

  Cathy called R.L Meiner every other day, asking for a decision but with no response. And then Mavis Webb finally ran her story about the absentee landlord in New York, and Cathy Terry, the Christmas Angel of Blessings. She ran pictures of the families and of the living conditions with the story, calling R.L. Meiner a hard-hearted slumlord, and again the AP picked up on another scandal and ran with it.

  * * *

  Cathy’s philanthropy had not gone unnoticed by the people in Blessings. When they first found out what she was doing, they reacted with a sense of guilt, acknowledging this should have been done years ago, and then with a sense of purpose that it was never too late to right a wrong.

  Ruby Butterman started an angel tree in her salon and picked five families from the Bottoms for her customers to buy Christmas presents for, and when she did, Lovey Cooper put up an angel tree in Granny’s and added the names of five more family members, and so it went until every business on Main Street had every family member in the Bottoms on the trees.

  One Sunday, Granny’s Country Kitchen donated the entire day’s proceeds to the families—to be divided up so that they could have their own Christmas dinners and buy presents for their own children, too. And when Broyles Dairy Freeze and the barbecue place all found out Granny’s was doing that, they did it, too. Even the owner of the Blue Ivy Bar donated the entire take from one Saturday night to the project.

  And in the midst of this, Cathy Terry finally got her call from R.L Meiner.

  * * *

  The morning dawned raw and blustery. Cathy had paint samples and tile samples spread out all over her kitchen table when her cell phone rang. Duke was coming into town, and thinking it was likely from him, she didn’t even look at caller ID.

  “Hello.”

  “May I speak to Cathy Terry?”

  It wasn’t Duke.

  “This is Cathy.”

  “Miss Terry, this is Michael Meiner. I understand you have been trying to reach my father, R.L. Meiner.”

  “Yes, about purchasing some property he owns in Blessings, Georgia.”