“Starting when to do what for who?”
“Let’s get out of the bathroom and take us a seat at the kitchen table.”
21
Katie headed for the Taninger building as soon as Josh got on the bus.
“If I had a car. . . .” He’d moaned one too many times.
“One sure way to make sure you never get a car is to keep bugging me about it!” she’d snapped to his back as he huffed out the door. They’d spent so much time squabbling about the topic this morning that they’d both lost track of the time. When Katie looked at the clock and realized the bus would be there in less than three minutes, she’d said, “And if you miss the bus this morning, you’re going to learn what it feels like to walk miles to school, never mind driving!”
“Whatever.” The door slammed behind him.
Katie opened the door and yelled, “And if you ever do get a car, you’d better be thinking about how you’re going to pay for gas and insurance!” Although this topic hadn’t thus far come up in all their car conversations, she decided his attitude needed a little adjusting. That boy expected everything to come easy. She’d spoiled him.
But never mind all that. For now Katie had to concentrate on the space around her, which wasn’t easy since not only did she have Josh to contend with, but she’d kept getting distracted all week putting up decorations and making plans for the Hookers’ Christmas party. She knew the townspeople would be inspecting her every corner and she realized she’d opened herself to even more personal scrutinization. What was I thinking?!
She sat at the makeshift desk working on a production schedule, such that she could given the limited facts at hand. It would be a while before Jimson got back to her with final renderings, but in the meantime she wanted to figure out what Edward Showalter and his crew—he’d phoned and told her not to worry, that he had all the hands they’d need—might be able to start chipping away at, if anything. If interior demolition was to get under way any time soon, she had to get the restrooms working (a porta-potty on the square simply would not do) and get a thorough checkup on the heating system, although Jimson had already mentioned she needed to consider getting rid of the old boiler and upgrading the building to forced hot air. I’m in over my head, she thought again, but quickly pushed the thought from her mind.
Although Partonville definitely wasn’t as cold as Chicago this time of year, she’d nearly frozen herself to the core yesterday and she’d only been in the building a few hours. She walked to the front window to warm herself in the little bit of sunshine coming through the dirty glass. She felt confined in her overcoat, like a child whose mother had bundled her in a giant snowsuit. She blew on her hands and glanced across the square at Rick Lawson’s window. She wished Jacob was still in town so he might be up there, catch a glimpse of her and wave. She could use a friendly face about now. But plow on she must.
By three o’clock, even though the water looked like pure rust, she had flushing toilets in the building, but the heating man said he needed to “scout up a part” and come back tomorrow. She’d hated the tone in his voice when he’d talked to her, as though he doubted she had a clue what she was doing since why fix the boiler if she was going to replace it. She should have had Edward Showalter deal with these guys. She made a mental note to never get herself in this position again: all construction matters should go through Edward Showalter. How scary is that?!
The ring of her cell phone startled her. She checked the caller I.D. before flipping open her phone. Morgan Realty. “Katie Durbin.”
“Ms. Durbin, Herb Morgan here.”
“Hello, Herb. Please call me Katie. What can I do for you? Found me another property?” She couldn’t believe what she heard herself saying. Wasn’t this one enough for the moment?
“No. No. That’s not why I’m calling. Ms. Durbin . . . Katie. We need to talk.”
“About what, Herb?”
“Maybe you haven’t heard then. . . .”
“Heard what?” Arthur’s “warnings” sprang into her head. Surely Sam hadn’t rallied Herb against her!
“It seems you . . . we . . . the idea of a mini mall . . . your land acquisitions . . .”
“Just spit it out, Herb.”
“Word around town is that lots of folks are not happy about your projects. I’ve received four phone calls in the last two days from people who want to know why I’ve decided to play on your team rather than theirs.”
“Do you think what I’m doing is bad for the town?”
“No, ma’am. Let me assure you I believe in your integrity and purpose.”
For a moment Katie was speechless. Every time she thought she knew all there was to know about Partonvillers, somebody knocked her socks off. “Thank you, Herb. That was a gratifying statement to hear. Is the purpose of your call to warn me then? If so, let me just say that Arthur Landers covered those bases.”
“So you have heard, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Personally, I think you and me and the mayor ought to get together and maybe come up with a plan for a counterattack.”
“Counterattack? Would you go so far as to say my plans are under attack? Serious attack? Or do we just need to ride out the huffing and puffing?”
He chuckled. “Personally, Ms. Durbin, from what I know about you, I’d say it would take a lot more than huffing and puffing to blow your development plans down. But nonetheless, I still think we ought to map out a plan to nip this in the bud.”
“All right, Herb. Let’s set something up. Why don’t you give me a couple times, and I’ll give Gladys a call and get back to you.”
No sooner had Katie hung up than her cell phone rang again. The Lamp Post Motel. “Jessica! Am I glad to hear from you!”
“How did you. . . . Oh, that’s right. Caller I.D. One of these days we’ll get up to speed around here.”
“What’s up?”
“Have you talked to anyone around town lately?”
Katie groaned. “Don’t tell me they’ve gotten to you?”
“If you mean Sam Vitner or Cora Davis, yes, they have.”
Katie sighed. “So give me your honest take on this. Do you think I have a problem here?”
“Oh, Katie. I’m not a good person to ask.”
“Too late.”
“I think that people will take to the idea of a mini mall once they understand your plans. Sadly, though, fear has set people’s imaginations to working overtime. Cora said by the time you were done creating Durbinville . . .”
“Durbinville?” So Arthur was right.
Jessica’s face went beet red. She felt like a traitor to her best friend having just uttered the ridiculous word. “I don’t think like that, but Cora . . . well, she is being Cora. She went so far as to say that by the time your Durbinville plans were complete, they would undoubtedly include a Hampton Inn if not a Hilton, and that pretty soon our little motel would again be boarded up, just the way it was when we bought it.”
Katie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, now. I am even more powerful than I might have imagined!” Silence. “Jessica, you don’t believe that nonsense, do you?” Silence. “Jessica!”
“No, of course not. But you know, she carried on long enough I have to admit that she did unnerve me a little. I just needed to hear your reassuring voice, Katie.”
“Jessica, I promise you that I have no plans for creating a Durbinville. All I’m trying to do is to help save Partonville, bring you more business.”
“I know. I know. Actually, I guess it’s a good thing I did have that moment of doubt since it helps me understand what’s probably really going on around town.”
“Which is?”
“Fear.”
“Fear?”
“Fear.”
Katie processed the thought for a moment. Then it all became clear. “BINGO! Thank you, Jessica, for pushing just the right button in my brain.” Josh’s recent late-night arrival from Chicago zinged right into her mind. When she was afraid somethi
ng had happened to her son, her imagination conjured up squad car lights in her driveway, police officers with sorrowful eyes. Fear was a terrible thing, something she’d had to keep fighting herself lately, realizing how much she needed to depend on the people of Partonville to make this all work, and now here they were rallying against her. “Jessica, you are a genius.” Of course people in town were afraid; they’d lived here all their lives. It was one thing for them to worry about Hethrow swallowing them alive, but now they feared their demise had become an inside job. “How to fight fear,” she said, including her own in the statement, knowing full well she had risked pretty much all she had. “Now that is the question.”
“You might want to give Dorothy a call,” Jessica finally said, a hint of sheepishness lacing her voice. She knew what she had to tell Katie next would make her even crazier.
“Jessica! Don’t tell me Dorothy has bought into any of this!”
“No. No! She knows you better than that, Katie. But her name has gotten caught up in the gossip. People think she’s . . . colliding . . . no, in concoctions . . . no . . . They think she’s . . . What is the word Cora used. . . . ”
“Collusion? They think she’s in collusion with me?”
“That’s it!”
Katie heaved a great, loud sigh. “Thank you again, Jessica. I’ll give Dorothy a call before I phone Gladys. I hope Dorothy hasn’t had to endure any personal attacks.”
“I’m glad you’re gonna call her, Katie. Dorothy always knows what to do.”
“I’ll tell you, Katie, I don’t have a clue what to do about this other than to maybe start knocking a few heads together,” Dorothy said. As much as she loved her town and its people, sometimes some of them could just make her nuts.
“Dorothy!” Katie said, a surprised laugh bubbling out of her. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say something like that before.”
“And shame on me for saying it. Besides, if I did set out to knock heads together, I’m sure I’d do myself in; my heart couldn’t take all that knocking!” When their burst of laughter died down, Dorothy knew it was time to call in the Big Gun.
“Lord, thanks for the gift of laughter that often shakes some sense into us! Yes, we both know we shouldn’t knock Your children’s heads together—although honestly, sometimes I can’t help but believe that thought must occasionally flicker through Your mind when we’re acting plumb fools!” Chuckles. “Truth is, Lord, everybody’s probably just afraid of the unknown.” Katie’s breath hitched. How did she know? “I ask You right now, God, to help direct our hearts and find the words to help settle everyone down. You know I’ve been through my share of changes the last year, and I remember how hard it was when fear gripped my throat.” How quickly, how clearly and perfectly Dorothy got right to the crux of the matter and took it to God, Katie thought, hoping for the day she’d be able to do that. “But You brought me through. And so You will continue to help all of us. Keep us from getting caught up in the frenzy, Lord. Help us see one face at a time and to look for You in it. I know, Lord, that You are rootin’ for Katie Durbin here. You’re rootin’ for her to not only help make us a better town, but for her to grow through this, too. Help us to see this conflict as just a little . . . fertilizer.” Another group chuckle. “Amen.”
“Amen.” With his prayer behind him, Edward Showalter gingerly picked up the kittens one at a time and placed them back into their cardboard home. He’d left the twelve cans of cat food, the four cat toys, a new litter box, a giant bag of litter and the super-dooper-pooper-scooper in his van. “Come on, Kornflake. We’ve got us a delivery to make. You’ll have to wait in the van, though. If you hear me yellin’ from the top of Nellie Ruth’s stairway, start the engine. We’ll be running for our lives!”
22
Nellie Ruth just had to get over being nervous about Edward Showalter visiting her home. After all, he was going to come paint her kitchen and living room in two days! But how could she help but be nervous? He said he was bringing her a surprise to beat all surprises and he sure hoped she liked it. Something to match her new paint color, she bet. Maybe a bouquet of flowers. Yes, she bet that’s what it was. She scurried to her kitchen to prepare something to put them in—just in case. She had that cheap vase somewhere she’d bought at Now and Again Resale for the gladiolas Bernice often picked from her garden. But it wasn’t very pretty. She had a cut glass pitcher she thought might work. She dragged a kitchen chair over in front of her sink to reach the high shelf in the cabinet above it, got it down and washed it. Yes, this would do nicely. She set it on the table, and pushed the chair back in exactly its proper place.
But what if it wasn’t flowers? She didn’t want to seem presumptuous. Well then, she’d say she had the pitcher out since she thought he might like a pitcher of. . . . She searched her fridge. Yup, thankfully she had just enough lemons and one orange—all from the “bruised and reduced” shelf—to make a pitcher of lemonade. Not too seasonal, but then that would be the surprise of it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet rap on her door. She peeked through her curtains and there he was, a box in his hands. She unlatched her door and let him in, a cold gust surging in behind him. What had she been thinking assuming flowers and dreaming up lemonade? she wondered. She wished she could hide the pitcher.
“Wow!” she exclaimed a little too loudly, her nerves spewing. She pulled her sweater tight around her neck. “I can’t believe how the temperature has dropped!” she said as she closed the door behind him.
“Lots of surprises in the air today, huh?” he said, standing with the box in his hands like a frozen soldier, his heart beating so hard he wondered if she could hear it. He looked around at her immaculately kept home, wondering what on earth he’d been thinking just showing up with a box full of kittens.
“Here, let me take that so you can remove your . . .”
“NO!” he said, clutching it closer to his chest. Nellie Ruth was clearly stunned by his reaction. He’d never before even slightly raised his voice with her. “I mean, not yet!” he said with a perky smile. “It’s the surprise! How about we go into your living room so I can set this down on the floor maybe?”
“Okay,” she said, a hesitance in her voice, the surprise of his volume sticking with her.
Together they made their way to her living room just off the kitchen. He sat down on the couch and set the box on her coffee table, on top of her perfectly aligned magazines, causing him to fret all the more about what could surely be considered a chaotic gift. Maybe he should just pick up the box and . . . Just then something thunked in the box causing Nellie Ruth to jump back and scream “OH!” like she’d been electrocuted. No turning back.
“I’m sorry, Nellie Ruth. They didn’t mean to scare you.”
“They?” she squeaked.
“I know this might be hard for you right now, but how about you close your eyes and hold your hands out. You’ll just have to trust me, okay?”
Trust Edward Showalter. Wasn’t that what she kept praying for the strength to do? If he told her she had nothing to fear, why should she think otherwise? With a huge leap of faith she did what she was told. Edward Showalter opened the box and reached in to pick up . . . which one? White? Black? White? Black? She had her hands cupped together in front of her. Maybe he should ask her to separate them so he could put one in each hand. But he knew if the kittens were separated they might not stay put until she even opened her eyes. So he closed his eyes and just reached in, his fingers landing on the white one. He put his palm under Nellie Ruth’s cupped hands to steady them, then he set the kitten in her cradle. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Open up.”
Nellie Ruth had barely fixed her gaze with that of the little white cherub—there was no other way she could think about the soft silky bundle—before a tiny mew vibrated out of the box. “Oh, my,” she said, leaning forward to get a better look at the black kitty who now had her front paws up on the edge of the box obviously looking for her sibling.
&nbs
p; “ES, wherever did you get yourself such beautiful kittens?!”
“Well, actually they . . .”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d expanded your family beyond Kornflake? Who I also cannot wait to meet. But OH! these wonderful kitties! ”
“You see, Nellie Ruth, they are for . . .”
“They are just beautiful, ES!” She picked up the black one with her empty hand and tried to nestle the two of them together in her lap. They were a squirming ball of activity—it was all she could do to contain them. She was aglow with immediate fondness for them, which Edward Showalter hoped boded well. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“What I’m trying to say, Nellie Ruth, is that I got them . . .”
“Hey, you little monkey, get back here!” The black one had tumbled off her lap onto the couch and was making her way toward Edward Showalter. “Got her!” ES said, scooping the kitten into his lap. Her white brother, on the other hand, had stretched out on Nellie Ruth’s lap and started to purr while Nellie Ruth stroked his sweet back. “How does Kornflake get along with his new playmates—or doesn’t he?”
“To tell you the truth, he doesn’t seem to mind them one bit. But then it doesn’t really matter because . . .”
“Just listen to her purr, ES.”
“Him.”
“Just listen to him purr,” she repeated as she picked him up and cuddled the little muffin under her chin. “He is just so sweet, so beautiful,” she said, raising him away from her far enough to look into his green eyes.
Edward Showalter scooted closer to Nellie Ruth, close enough that his thigh accidentally grazed hers, sending a zing through his body. He quickly drew his legs in tighter and leaned his upper body toward her so he could observe the purr she’d beckoned him to hear. “Here, lean a little closer,” she said, “or can you hear him from there?” Whether he could hear the purring or not, he certainly was willing to lean in a little closer, close enough his chin was nearly against Nellie Ruth’s. “Hear him?” she asked, turning her head his way for the briefest of questions, placing her lips just a smidgen away from his, his lips suddenly giving hers the quickest of kisses neither of them saw coming.
Dearest Dorothy, Merry Everything! Page 19
