A Pocketful of Stardust

by J P Barnaby

  Noah knew an order when he heard one, so he stood up. Old Jake stood with him, and together they meandered to the den where his dad had kept a desk, a safe, and three full walls of bookshelves. They reminded Noah of his dad’s bookstore. He’d spent half his life in that store, playing in the aisles. That was where his father had nurtured his love of reading.

  Tears stung his eyes at the orderly perfection of the desktop that was the very definition of his father. A place for everything and everything in its place, his dad would say. Noah wasn’t so conscientious, and his keys went missing about once a month. Last month they were in the refrigerator. An old laptop sat dark, quiet, and cold near the back edge, like it had been pushed out of the way and forgotten. A neat wooden cup of pens was positioned next to a cheap black blotter. All the pens were the same—style, size, and color.

  The inbox on his left seemed out of place in the tidy space. It overflowed with opened, official-looking letters. Some of them had FINAL NOTICE stamped across the top. Perplexed, Noah picked them up and started to riffle through. They were bills. Some of them appeared to be up-to-date, like the electric and gas, but one looked almost like a legal document. He was no lawyer, but it might have been a foreclosure notice. Was Dad about to lose the house? The store?

  “Noah, did you find anything?” Miss Edna called from the hallway, and he folded up the paper and stuffed it in his shorts pocket. He’d read it… after. Instead, he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

  The desk had two bottom drawers that held hanging file folders. In true Charlie Hitchens fashion, his dad had labeled everything in neat block print: BILLS, RECEIPTS, JAKE, HOUSE. Noah flipped through each one until he came to a folder that had a neon tab and MY DEATH.

  He sat on the hardwood floor, Jake’s head in his lap, and opened the folder. Some of it he didn’t recognize right away, but he figured out the will, bank accounts, and emergency contacts pretty easily. There was a note with his lawyer’s number and his accountant’s. The rest he had to read through. His father already had a plot at Sunny Lawns cemetery where Noah’s grandparents were buried. He had a life insurance policy for ten thousand dollars near the front of the folder. It seemed everything Noah needed to bury his father lay in his hands. So simple.

  “Noah, did you find anything?” Miss Edna asked again from the doorway. He held up the folder noiselessly. Jake didn’t move or bother to look up; instead he snuggled closer to Noah.

  She looked through and nodded.

  “It was thoughtful of him to be so organized. Frank put me through hell trying to find everything when he passed. Bless his heart.” She touched her cross again and then held out a hand to Noah. “We should get started.”

  He wasn’t about to let the old lady heft him up, so he rolled onto his knees and Jake popped up next to him. Noah put a hand on his soft black fur and stopped.

  “I don’t want to leave him here by himself, where Dad—”

  “Bring him along. Everyone loves old Jake, he’s a good dog.” She rubbed his head and he licked her palm. “Slobbery as he is.” She laughed as she rubbed her hand over well-worn jeans.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m just going to run upstairs and change. My suitcase is in the living room. I… uhm, didn’t take it up with me last night.”

  The compassion in her look hurt his eyes, so he turned and walked up the stairs without another word. Noah changed quickly into a pair of khaki shorts and a short-sleeved button-down shirt. He’d brought his only suit for… for later, so people would have to deal with him casual until then. Noah had no idea what the protocol was—he hadn’t been to a funeral since his grandparents died when he was a kid—but he didn’t feel like wearing grown-up clothes anyway.

  The chirping of his phone caught him by surprise. It buzzed and sang across the top of the dresser next to an old remote-control jeep he hadn’t touched in years. The phone clattered dangerously toward the edge, and Noah picked it up to look at the display. Karen’s name appeared, and he realized with a hard slap of guilt that he’d forgotten to call and let her know what was going on.

  He slid his finger across the screen and answered with a tired “Hi, Karen.”

  “Hey, Noah, how are you?” Her voice came across the waves agitated, but concerned, like she was looking over her shoulder while she talked.

  “We’re about to go to the funeral home and finalize the arrangements.” He wanted to ask if everything was okay, but to be honest, he didn’t actually care.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice trailed off.

  “I’ll get through it.” He fiddled with the control for the jeep. The little light didn’t come on when he flipped the switch. Something in him cracked a little deeper. Broken. It was all broken.

  “Any idea when you’ll be heading back?”

  “No. There’s a lot to do here with the house and business, so it will take a bit. What’s going on?” He flipped over the jeep and hit the power switch. That light came on and it lifted his spirits. He’d have to pick up batteries for the control.

  “Noah, they sent us the wrong link. They needed to send us the stabilized release, but they sent us the link for the sandbox. Some of the documentation needs to be rewritten. They gave us two days,” Karen said, the words tumbling one over the other. He could hear the panic between them.

  He took a long, slow breath.

  “Karen, I’m burying my father.”

  “Noah, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just wondered if you had your laptop, is all.”

  “No, Karen. It’s on my desk.” He set the jeep back down, resolute.

  “A courier—”

  “No. Are you kidding me? I get that Todd is your bowling buddy and all, but tell him to stop fucking day trading when he’s supposed to be working. He’s capable of doing the rewrites. I can’t believe you’d consider putting this on me.”

  “I know, I—”

  “I have to go. The funeral people are waiting.” He didn’t pause to let her say goodbye; he simply pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the End button. His hands tingled from anger and anxiety. It took a long slow breath, and then one more, before he could leave the room and jog back down the stairs. Noah didn’t want Miss Edna to worry.

  They both had enough to worry about.

  Chapter Three

  “READY, SON?” Miss Edna asked and put a hand on his arm. It had been four days, but he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to say goodbye to his father.

  “No, but I guess hiding under my bed isn’t really an option today.” He turned to face her.

  “And I don’t think you’re gonna fit anymore.” She smiled, and that helped loosen the knot in his chest enough so he could breathe.

  “Probably not, and Jake would just lie there and lick my face.” Noah glanced past Miss Edna to the big lab lying on the rug in the hallway. The dog had flopped on his side, and he lay like a pile of rags, his furry face pointed toward them, lost haunted eyes watching. Noah wondered if the big guy understood that his favorite human had left him forever.

  He followed Miss Edna downstairs, and Jake came trudging behind. He’d been so lethargic in the past two days that it had started to worry Noah.

  “Okay, buddy, I’m gonna turn on the TV for you. We’ll be back in a little while.” Noah patted the couch and Jake climbed up onto the cushions. He didn’t jump, he simply stepped. Miss Edna turned on a cooking show for him while Noah refilled the food dish the poor pup hadn’t touched the day before.

  He noticed Miss Edna didn’t say Jake would be all right this time. Noah kissed the dog on the head and whispered for him to be a good boy, that he’d be right back, that he wasn’t leaving. A tear slipped down his face and he wiped it away with the heel of his hand.

  Neither of them would ever be okay again.

  “I’m ready,” Noah choked out and held the door open for Miss Edna as his father had taught him all his life. They took the rental this time; the woman could get in and out comfortably in her low heels. It
was the first time he’d noticed her dress. It wasn’t black but a deep navy that flattered her. She wore it with a pillbox hat.

  “You look pretty, Miss Edna,” he said as he settled behind the wheel and tried to remember where the parking brake was.

  “Thank you, son.” She didn’t say anything more but gazed out the window. His father had been like a son to her, and her tired, drawn face held all of her words.

  It took just two hours for them to bury his father. The funeral home, the procession, the graveside words, they all brought his world to an end. He wanted to go home, to curl up with Jake and cry alone in peace, but there were protocols. His father would expect him to be a gracious host.

  Miss Edna’s church ladies were in full flurry by the time they pulled up outside his father’s house. Charlie would have been warmed by the turnout. Practically everyone in town had started to line their street, even people Noah didn’t know. He helped his elderly shadow from the car, and together they came up the walk to the sounds of life and laughter Noah had not expected after such a somber affair. Even Jake had come out of his funk, though the fact that little Kimmy Conners, the six-year-old with pigtails from down the street, was feeding him bits of cold cuts off the meat tray probably helped. She giggled every time he licked her fingers.

  Someone had opened up the windows, and Noah caught the smell of fresh burning leaves. You didn’t get that much in New York, and he loved that smell; it always reminded him of fall in Aster with its hay rides and apple cider. He also smelled something sweet, peach cobbler maybe, as he headed into the kitchen to mountains of food on every available surface. A square sheet of plywood rested atop the stove for another makeshift buffet spot. Something akin to panic and anger welled up in him to see people standing in that spot by the stove. He wanted to yell at them that his father had lost his life right there where their dirty shoes scuffed over the tile. But he caught himself, because it was ridiculous.

  It was so ridiculous.

  The knot that had been tied around his lungs since he walked into the kitchen that first night loosened a little, and for the first time, he could breathe. It was just a room—nothing more. He took another deep breath and stepped out of the kitchen, bumping right into a short, round woman in a blinding yellow sundress. It was Noah’s dad’s neighbor from across the street, he thought; she’d moved in since Noah had gone to New York, so he didn’t know her well.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Noah. Your father was a good man. He used to come over and help fix things after my Ralph had passed.” Her soft gray eyes watered with sympathy, and she thrust yet another casserole dish at him. With the foil covering, he couldn’t even begin to guess what it contained. When he took it, he felt the tape along the bottom, which would contain her name so he could return it after he’d washed the Corningware mountain.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Call me, Sarah, Noah,” she said with an earnest smile.

  “Thank you, Miss Sarah.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Noah caught a flash of auburn hair glinting in the late afternoon sun. He figured it was one of his Kentucky cousins who had come down for the funeral—they were the only ones he knew with such fiery locks. Then he saw the flash again and a pair of guarded hazel eyes, more green than brown, locked with his. No, he didn’t know this guy. He’d have remembered seeing him. The encounter lasted no more than a second because the guy ducked his head and darted on, but the freckles spread across those smooth pale cheeks hit him like fire. He took a step forward, unsure what to do. It was a wake, for God’s sake, he couldn’t—

  “Noah?”

  The voice was vaguely familiar, deep and thick with an almost farcical Georgia drawl. Noah couldn’t place it at first, but then the crowd around him thinned and a tall, heavyset man moved forward to grasp his hand in a punishing grip. “Uncle James?”

  It had been years since he’d seen his mother’s brother, and those years hadn’t been kind. Oh, he was wearing an expensive suit—Noah’s years in New York had left him familiar with designer wear. But his complexion was too ruddy, he was sweating even in the air-conditioning, and he wheezed a bit as he elbowed past one of the Edwards twins to get to Noah. “Good to see you, boy, even at a sad event as this. How you been?”

  “Okay under the circumstances,” Noah replied. “Um—can I get you a water or tea?”

  “No, no, not at all. I can’t stay long—your aunt Violet hates these things. Difficult woman, difficult woman.”

  Noah remembered his uncle’s wife as a meek, indecisive woman whose main conversation was repeating whatever her husband had just said. He nodded as if in agreement. “Thanks for coming, anyway,” he said. “I didn’t see Aunt Violet….”

  “Oh, she’s in the kitchen. Brought you a casserole.” He snorted. “Feed it to the dog—Vi’s a lousy cook.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine, sir.”

  His uncle snorted again. “Your freezer’ll probably buckle under the weight of casseroles from all these biddies. They mostly came to see how bad your daddy left the house. Think a man alone can’t manage.”

  “It’s all fine.”

  “Charlie did okay for himself, domestically at least. Left his finances in somewhat of a mess, I hear,.” Though the uncouth comment was completely out of place, James seemed quite pleased with himself. “Look.” He reached into his inner suit jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “When all this is over, give me a ring and we’ll have lunch. Help you with the estate. Doing pretty well in real estate—I know the market around here. You’re gonna sell the store, I can help you get the best price. I imagine you can’t wait to get back to New York. Aster’s a nice town, but sleepy. Not much here for a young firebrand like yourself. And you sure as shootin’ don’t need a white elephant like a bankrupt bookstore hangin’ over your head, ’specially one where the last owner up and disappeared. Help you out—after all, you’re family.”

  “Bankrupt? And wait, what do you mean disappeared?”

  “Later, we can talk later. No one talks business at a funeral.” He glanced around, not meeting Noah’s gaze, and then started to turn.

  “Um, fine. Thanks.” Noah pocketed the card and shook his uncle’s hand again.

  He waited until his uncle had herded his aunt—who hadn’t changed an iota since he’d seen her last—out the front door before wiping Uncle James’s sweat from his palm.

  If James knew about the bookstore, then other people did too. He’d talk to Miss Edna about it the next day. His uncle was right about one thing—a funeral was no place to discuss it. Maybe he would have lunch with James, see what his uncle had in mind.

  “That man is very unpleasant.”

  He glanced over at Miss Edna in surprise. “Dad liked him. They were friends before Dad married Mom, and Uncle James was furious with her when she left. He always supported Dad.”

  “That’s because he could always get more use out of your dad than his own deadbeat sister. But he’s a rusty penny. Besides, if he wasn’t here, word would get around, and James Montgomery lives and dies by his reputation. At least he thinks so. He’s a legend in his own mind.”

  Noah chuckled. “Oh, Miss Edna.”

  She took another of the endless casseroles from his hand and bustled into the kitchen with it.

  His mother. He hadn’t thought about her in a long time. Thank God she hadn’t shown up. Miss Edna might have taken a switch to her in the backyard. That sweet old lady had no love lost for the woman who had walked away from her only son. Noah felt the same way—he’d been so young when she’d left he didn’t really remember her. She was just an unpleasant part of his past.

  Another unpleasant part of his past was moving through the room toward him. Noah groaned internally. Matt Handley. Of course he’d still be around—his family owned the biggest bank in town, and knowing Matt, he was probably running it by now. He was still good-looking, and unlike Uncle James, his football physique hadn’t decayed into flab.

  If he hadn’t
been such an asshole, he would have been one of Noah’s high school crushes. But after being shoved into one too many lockers, having his lunch stolen and Coke dumped on his homework, he’d lost any interest in the hometown football hero.

  “Noah.”

  “Matt.”

  “Sorry to hear about your old man. Must be tough.”

  “Yeah. It’s okay. How you doing?”

  “Not bad. Work at the bank now, of course. You’re in computers or something, I hear.”

  “Yeah.”

  “New York must be an exciting place after this sleepy little burg.” He laughed. It irritated Noah.

  “It has its moments.”

  “I have a fiancée. She lives in Atlanta, so I spend a lot of time in the city.” The disdain in his voice told Noah more than he wanted to know about Matt. He might have his business here in Aster, but his opinion of the place hadn’t changed in the years since Noah’d been gone. Never good enough for the scion of the Handleys. “You married yet?”

  “No. Gay, remember?”

  “Yeah, but you gays can get married now.” Matt snorted in amusement. “Which would you be, I wonder? The man or the lady?”

  Noah sighed. “Neither. Hey, there’s cake on the sideboard. Why don’t you help yourself? There’s Miz Blackwell’s chocolate cream cake.”

  “Oh man, that’s the best. I might have to snag a piece, even if I have to work it off later.” He eyed Noah’s less-than-stellar physique. “I belong to a real nice gym in the city. It’s a chain, so maybe there’s one in New York.”

  Noah smiled with all his teeth. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

  “By the way, you’d better come by the bank pretty soon. Your dad kind of left his finances a mess. You’ll need to deal with it sooner rather than later.”

  Matt tapped his forehead and turned toward the sideboard. As soon as his attention wandered, Noah hustled out of the room, looking for someplace quiet to calm his incipient headache.

  Well, that explained the notices. It hurt in a way he couldn’t explain that his father hadn’t confided in him that he was in trouble. Matt’s jubilation about it just pissed him off more.