Foothills Pride Stories, Volume 2

by Pat Henshaw

  We sat for a few moments in silence.

  “Now I can’t find him. His account’s closed, and he and the friends who set up the deal have vanished.” He sighed. “Abe said I should check the deed, but it looks okay to him. Maybe I really do have a house. Who knows?”

  “You’re still meeting with Abe Behr this morning?” I asked. I didn’t think we needed to beat this topic to death. It was time we all moved along. He was in a mess, but I was confident he could untangle it and come out fine in the end.

  He nodded.

  “Good. Then I’m hoping I can talk Henry into coming with me to the mall. We can get you both some clothes to tide you over while the Behrs work on shoring up your house.”

  “You don’t think the house will be habitable by tonight?” he asked, hope hanging on his words.

  I shook my head. I knew Abe. If the house hadn’t caved in, the interior would be a jungle gym of support beams and stabilizers by now. He wouldn’t be letting anyone in without a hard hat, and then only the men on his crew who had a job to do.

  “You don’t have to stay here,” I reminded him, with a little ache in my heart. “There are apartments and condos out by the mall if it’s going to take a while.”

  “I feel like such a failure,” Christopher groaned.

  Henry got up and stood by him, his arms going around his father’s neck. I understood. I would have done the same thing.

  “Why? You aren’t a contractor or an architect, are you? You’ll know better what to do next time.” I said. I’d been sucked into their lives just as they’d been in mine. I wanted more than anything to help them.

  “No, my dad’s not an architect,” Henry said. “He’s a world-famous game designer.” The boy held his dad tighter and glared at me like I should have known who his father was.

  “Henry,” Christopher chided him softly. “Frank doesn’t need to know what I do. He’s being incredibly kind to us. He could have kicked us out last night.”

  “Then if you’re not a contractor or architect, why do you feel like a failure? Someone deliberately duped you.” I wanted to know how he could blame himself for something he didn’t know about and didn’t understand.

  “I’m a smart man. I should have known.” Christopher shooed his son back to his place at the table and gestured for him to keep eating.

  “You should have known what? That someone worked at conning you? I don’t understand.” I really didn’t. “I think what you should do is talk to Abe this morning and find out what he thinks. Get his assessment of what needs to be done and how much it will cost. Then visit the town’s real estate lawyer to see if the deed is genuine and has been registered. You can’t make any decisions or beat yourself up until you get all the facts.”

  He nodded and smiled slightly.

  “While you do that, Henry and I will go to the mall and get me a smartphone and a laptop computer and whatever else Henry thinks I need to enter the twenty-first century.” I watched Henry’s eyes light up and his quick nod. “Maybe we could meet for lunch? I’ll bet you haven’t been out to the Rock Bottom Cafe yet.”

  Henry snickered at the cafe’s name just like we all did when we were his age, while Christopher gave me a thoughtful look.

  “Sure. That sounds like a plan.” He got up and stretched. “I hate to ask, but will you drop me off at the house to get my van?”

  “No problem. It’s on the way to the mall anyway,” I answered, getting up from the table.

  As we got ready to leave, I could tell it would be a long day for all of us, but I hoped it would be calmer than the day before.

  6

  “BUT WHAT are you going to do with your pocket watch?” Henry was concerned that I might throw it away now that I had this new Tissot wristwatch. Obviously he didn’t know my thrifty nature.

  “I think I’ll have it framed and put up on the wall of the store in an antiques corner. I thought we’d put the scale on the counter, maybe a barrel full of nails on the floor near it. I’m sure you and I will find other things lying around in the back room that could be considered antiques.”

  Henry got a wicked gleam in his eyes. “How about the overalls? They’re pretty old. And the bow tie. That whole outfit looks pretty antique.”

  He was right. Since I wouldn’t be wearing them anymore, I could find a mannequin somewhere and dress it up for display.

  “So are we done, Frank?”

  Henry didn’t look like he was getting anxious to leave the mall. But what did I know about teenage boys these days? We’d gotten me the watch, a laptop, and a smartphone. I’m sure from his point of view he’d updated me.

  “How about we shop for some new clothes too?”

  He stood back and scanned me from head to toe. Then he shook his head sadly.

  “Yeah, you really do need an upgrade. Can we get something to drink first? Maybe a snack?”

  I knew that Jimmy Patterson had completely redone his mall coffee shop and added a snack menu, so I walked us over to the map, found Penny’s Coffee Stop, and led the way to it.

  I’d visited the old mall store with its primary-colored booths and industrial chrome accents once. The new place contrasted with the Old Town Penny’s, which was the model of a frontier gentlemen’s club. The colors in this new mall store were more modern to my eye—dull orange, lime green, and an indescribable blue. I thought about the paints I sold these days—things like Swim Team Blue and Sour Apple Green.

  The odd colors in the coffee shop jarred me for a moment, as did the wooden stool-height chairs and tall tables along one wall. I wasn’t sure I was ready to perch in order to drink coffee and have a piece of whatever they offered to eat.

  Henry had hurried up to the glass-covered food case and was bent over looking into it. He stood abruptly and pulled out his cell phone. As he talked, he glanced at me. Then he nodded. After he’d finished the conversation, he pocketed the phone and walked back to our table.

  “They’ve got blueberry scones today. My dad’s on his way over to meet us. He doesn’t sound happy.”

  Henry was being what I was starting to consider typically Henry—unflappable and confident. I appreciated it since I dealt with so many teens who were filled with angst or self-disgust. I’d take effervescent calm any day.

  CHRISTOPHER JOINED us for a cup of coffee. He needed to talk to Henry about the house, so we decided Henry would leave with his dad. I reminded them that they could stay at the farmhouse for as long as they needed. I didn’t push the invitation, but in my heart, I hoped they’d take me up on the offer.

  After they left, I went clothes shopping. I was sorry to lose my style advisor, but I figured I could manage to buy new jeans, slacks, and dress pants for myself. To those I added button-down shirts in the popular colors and T-shirts with logos, images, and slogans I wasn’t familiar with. I topped off my purchases with a pair of boots and the kind of shoes my mother used to call sneakers.

  My phone had rung a few times. Henry had shown me how to silence it, turning it to vibrate in my pocket instead of making a noise. It was something my old flip phone couldn’t do and was a really nice feature. But it felt funny wriggling next to my leg whenever a call came through.

  I knew in general who wanted to talk to me, since the summer season was nearly upon us. It wasn’t Riley. When I didn’t show up this morning, he would have just shrugged and opened the store. The callers were people who wanted me to fix something. At that moment I didn’t really care if they ever got in touch with me. To retrieve their messages, I’d have to ask Henry to give me another tutorial, but for the most part, I was happy with not being at work. I was enjoying dancing through the new life of Frank McCord.

  A LITTLE after noon, with all my new purchases safely stored in the truck, I decided I should probably drive past the store and see if it had weathered my absence. As I rolled down the street, I could see two people—not the two old-timers everyone called Bert and Ernie—sitting on the long bench under the hardware store’s front window.


  The younger one was bent over, staring intently at something he held, and the older one sat with his hands clasped in his lap, right about at a spot I fantasized about getting to know better.

  I pulled into the reserved parking space in front of the store and got out onto the boardwalk.

  “Are you winning, Henry?” I asked him as he intently poked at the screen on his phone.

  He jumped and dropped the phone on the gray wooden slats.

  “Oh, uh, hi, Frank. We were waiting for you.”

  “So I see.”

  “Henry, do you mind walking over to Penny’s and getting your dad and me some coffee? Just tell the girl at the counter you want Frank’s regular for me. And you, Christopher, what do you want?”

  It took him a minute to climb out of whatever thought hole he’d fallen into.

  “Oh, uh, just whatever the special of the day is would be fine.”

  I took a twenty out of my pocket and handed it to Henry.

  “And whatever you want too.”

  He clipped the bill out of my hand, nodded, and was off like a rabbit.

  I turned to Christopher.

  “Okay. What did Abe say?” I wanted to put my arm around him and lean him in toward me so I could be a solid bulwark where he could rest and gather needed strength. But this was Stone Acres’s Old Town and not Provincetown.

  Christopher turned slightly toward me and grimaced.

  “It’s not good, Frank. I guess when I mentioned I was paying with cash, the seller wrote Chump on my forehead with a fat permanent marker and the scam artists of Stone Acres gathered round.”

  He looked like given a little privacy he’d break out crying. I patted his knee, and he grabbed my hand and squeezed it for all he was worth.

  What was odd was how normal and right it felt—his touch and our sitting together holding hands on a busy Saturday in downtown Stone Acres. People weren’t swarming around us, but I knew most of the individuals driving by in their cars and walking along the sidewalk nearby. We might as well have been on display, but I didn’t give a damn.

  Life was certainly strange. One day it was going along like it always did. Then the next, it threw a curveball. You could let the pitch go, telling yourself you’d swing at the next one. Or if you’re conservative like me, you could bend and twist to connect with this one because you doubted another one would come along.

  I only needed a day with Christopher to know I’d probably never be in his ballpark again. He was a perfect pitch being tossed at me, and I wasn’t walking away without following through with him.

  I felt like I’d reached a degree of happiness I’d been seeking forever. I could be at peace for the rest of my life with Christopher by my side. The realization both thrilled and scared me. Did he feel the same?

  I didn’t know this man in the sense of understanding all the baggage he was carrying around with him, but I did know his essence. I could picture us decades in the future sitting peacefully side by side. The unexpected thrill of ethereal happiness glowed between us.

  “Just tell me what Abe said, and then I’ll help you figure out what to do.” I returned the wave of a woman who was one of my regular customers. She had looked like she was walking toward the store, but she’d veered off in another direction after smiling and waving.

  The town seemed to have agreed to leave me alone for the moment. Across the street, people came and went from the grocery store. Before they entered, they’d glance our way. Their gazes seemed to take in me and Christopher, and then they’d go about their business, either with a wave or a nod. I couldn’t tell if they were shocked, surprised, or didn’t care at all. Whichever it was, it didn’t bother me. I was just glad that small town civility at its best seemed to be the order of the day.

  Christopher sighed, a huge exhale that shook both of us on the rickety bench. I looked up to see Bert and Ernie, probably on their way back from lunch, ambling toward us. Their puzzled looks landed on me, and I shook my head. With answering nods, they wandered past us to the bar next door.

  “First of all, Frank, thank you for calling Abe. He’s a godsend.” Christopher seemed to be studying his shoes.

  “No, actually, I’m not a god,” I quipped. I hoped he would smile, and he did just a little, since it wasn’t much of a joke.

  “He showed me how they’re getting it all propped up inside. He said it took them almost all night to get it somewhat stabilized, but that it was better than waiting until morning and having the house collapse in the middle of the night. He couldn’t understand why the house was still standing.”

  Christopher looked up and watched the people coming and going from the grocery store. Then he shook his head.

  “When my husband, Jules, left us five years ago, he took nothing but the twink he claimed he loved better than me and Henry. Then after Christmas this year, he returned to get more of ‘his things.’ We’d been squabbling over them for months, even though it had all been spelled out in the divorce settlement. I finally capitulated and let him take anything he wanted. I was planning to move up here anyway, so I figured Henry and I would be better off making a clean break.”

  His eyes swung to mine. His heat and caring and good heart filled me with hope. Maybe he did feel the connection between us. I couldn’t tell.

  “When we were with you yesterday and spent the night at your house last night, it was the first time I’ve relaxed in months. Henry too. I have to thank you for that.”

  “My offer for you to use my spare bedroom still stands.” I wanted to say more. I wanted to try to persuade him, beg him if necessary. But I knew if I pushed I’d sound pathetic. And who wants to stay with someone as needy for companionship as I was?

  “Thank you. We’ll be taking you up on your offer, Frank. At least until Abe gives me a firm ETA on putting the house back together.” He squeezed my hand again.

  With a start, I realized we were still holding hands on the public bench in front of the hardware store. My grandfather had probably spun out of control in his grave. He had abhorred public displays of affection and ran people out of the store when they walked in holding hands, young and old alike.

  I squeezed back and smiled. The new Frank held hands in public. Who knew what else he might do?

  With a slight nod toward the store, Christopher asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be working today?” Then after a beat, he laughed like the question was the funniest one in the world.

  “I guess. Maybe,” I answered over his cackling. “Why?”

  At my answer, he howled. He snatched his hand from mine and covered his face as tears poured down his cheeks. His laughter had a manic edge to it.

  “What’s so funny, Christopher?”

  It took a lot of choking and coughing and aftershock chuckles to calm him down.

  “Oh God. Oh God,” he said finally. “Sorry. I heard what a fool I sounded like, asking the owner of the store if he should be working. It’s your store. You can do whatever you want. You’re like me. You can work when you want to.”

  Then he seemed to sober up. “Yeah, not just like me.” He shook his head. “I might have to come up with a new game if this house is really mine and it costs too much to fix.”

  Christopher turned to me with a look of amazement. “Thank you for your understanding and help, Frank. I’ve never been able to talk to anyone like this before. Not even Jules.”

  He stopped, surprise growing in his eyes. Who knows what else he would have said if Henry hadn’t come racing back down the street carrying a cup tray with three drinks and a bulging pastry bag? The odd moment was cut short by the ray of sunshine in our lives.

  7

  CHRISTOPHER SAID he wanted to talk to Abe a few more minutes. He added that he and Henry would be back at my house by dinnertime, and where I’d suggested to eat sounded good to them. Henry’d broken in then, giggling over the words Rock Bottom. I was halfway back to my house when Lloyd Campbell pulled his official sheriff’s department van up behind me and motioned
me off the road. After I stopped, he got out of his vehicle and marched up to my truck.

  “Where the hell have you been, Frank?” he demanded. “I started getting phone calls early this morning because you haven’t been answering your phone. Then you didn’t come in to the store, and Riley didn’t know where you were.”

  Lloyd didn’t look particularly upset, though. More amused than anything. His eyes lit up as if he were smiling, but his lips sat stern and a little nonplussed.

  “Good day to you too, Lloyd. It’s a great one, isn’t it?” I grinned at him, and he grinned back.

  The sun shone down on us while the birds chirped. A slight breeze lifted Lloyd’s hair and gently patted it down again.

  The old Frank McCord wouldn’t have noticed any of these things usually. Today was just like every other springtime day. The old Frank would have been driving himself crazy trying to schedule all the repairs he’d agreed to do and hire summer help. The old Frank wouldn’t have noticed anything around him because it would never have occurred to him to bask in life tapping him on the shoulder.

  The new Frank peered at Lloyd, smiled, and invited him to the house for a cup of coffee.

  Lloyd gave me a quizzical look and said, “Sure. I was just going up there to see if you were alive.”

  As he strolled back to his van, he glanced up at the mountains that towered around us. His step faltered, and he stopped for a second. I followed his gaze, and we stared off in tandem at the snowy peaks, me through my windshield, him standing out on the deserted road. He took a deep breath, and a soft smile lit up his face.