7 Madness in Miniature (18 page)

The impromptu lunch party, which started at about two o’clock, ran into late afternoon. No one was in a hurry to leave, and I liked that. When the break came, we went off in twos and threes. Henry and the girls went in one direction, toward his home workshop where he’d been helping them make jewelry boxes. “Grandpa is going to show us how to use the sander on a piece of wood,” Taylor told me, giving me a good-bye hug. She’d been especially affectionate toward me all afternoon. I could hardly wait to get the backstory at Maddie’s bedtime.

Skip and June went in the other direction, but not before Skip whispered to me, “I’ll be ba-aaaack,” imitating a character in a movie, I thought, but couldn’t think of which one. “Will you be up around eleven?”

“For you, any time,” I said, though his visit would really be for me.

Before I knew it, Bev whisked me into her car and drove us to a mall. “At last,” she said. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

“You have a lot going on,” I said, as we pulled into a parking spot. “Once you have your shoes, you’ll feel a lot better.” I couldn’t remember another time when I’d recommended retail therapy instead of ice cream and cookies to relieve stress.

Bev hit the buttons to lower the windows and parked her SUV. She reached around to the floor behind her and brought up a plastic bag with a shoe box inside, not saying a word. She opened the box and I peered at a pair of elegant sling-back sandals—green shoes, the same shade as her dress, as near as I could recall.

“What’s this? I love them. When did you buy these?”

“Two weeks ago. It was never about shoes, Gerry. I just needed to talk to you.”

Was I that hard to get? “What’s up? Are you okay?”

The first thing that always came to mind when Bev was fatigued or indicated that a serious conversation was coming up, was her physical well-being. Although she looked fit and healthy, she carried with her the remnants of childhood scarlet fever, which had weakened her heart. Too many times in our life together as sisters-in-law, I’d sat in a hospital waiting room with Ken after one of her episodes. We were more optimistic now because of advances in heart surgery and medicine, but the worry was always there.

Bev waved my concern away. “It’s not health-related,” she said. “It’s wedding-related.”

“Tell me,” I said, dreading what I’d hear.

“I’m getting married,” she said. I waited for real news. “I’ll have a new husband.” Still nothing I didn’t know. “My son will have a stepfather who’s a guy he used to work with on the force.” More waiting. Finally, after more obvious announcements, like “I love Nick,” Bev asked me a question. “Do you think it’s okay?”

I didn’t know where to start. Should I remind her that it had been twenty years since Skip’s dad died? No one could accuse her of being quick to replace him. Should I mention that Skip clearly loved and admired Nick? I could bring up the fact that Skip had tried to set Nick and me up before it became clear where Nick’s attention was focused.

“How could it not be okay?” I asked. “Everyone who knows either of you is thrilled.”

Bev’s eyes teared up and her voice was sad. “But I’ll be a happy wife.”

But?
“And you don’t deserve it?”

Bev shrugged. “It’s hard. Skip lost his dad.”

“Through no fault of yours.”

“He’ll never get his father back.”

“He knows that,” I said. “And he’s not replacing him with Nick. You’re all adults. Skip doesn’t really need a father now. He’ll be one himself before we know it.”

Bev’s head snapped up. “Really? Do you know something?”

I laughed, in spite of the heavy air in the car. “No, I didn’t mean to imply that. I meant ‘eventually,’ not necessarily ‘soon.’ But the fact is, you’re marrying Skip’s friend, and we know he’s happy about it. He’ll have a good buddy who’s also part of his family. How great is that? Any more questions?”

Bev shook her head and ran a wad of tissues over her face. “No more questions. I guess I just needed to hear you say it.”

I couldn’t believe I’d said anything I hadn’t been saying since she and Nick started dating. But I’d do or say whatever it took, as many times as necessary, to set Bev’s mind at ease. I knew she’d do the same for me. Not that I’d ever need her to.

I arrived home
after a brief shopping spree during which Bev picked up the personalized jewelry she’d ordered for her attendants—too late for me to recommend watermarked stationery. The number 2 blinked on my landline answering machine. Only one message, from Maddie, came up when I turned my cell back on. I’d wanted to be fully available to Bev during our heavy conversation.

The message from Maddie was a simple notice that she’d be having dinner with Taylor and the Baker family and I was invited and please come. She sounded so happy, I thought of capturing the recording and saving it, along with the one or two (or three hundred) other precious items I’d collected over her short span of life. I talked myself out of keeping the recording, mostly because I didn’t know how to do it. I also talked myself out of joining them for dinner. Not only was I still full from the late lunch, but I needed some time alone to arrange all the pieces of information I had that involved SuperKrafts and the murder of one of its managers.

I sat at my kitchen counter and punched the button for my voice mail. As I waited for the first message on my landline, I sorted through the mail from the post office, relieved not to be searching for a letter from Taylor. Loretta Olson’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hi, Gerry. It was great to see you and Maddie at the inn this morning. You’ll have to come back for lunch some time. I talked to Amelia and she assured me that no broken glass was found in any of the rooms the day after the earthquake. Or ever, that she can remember. Hope that helps. Whatever. See you.”

No broken glass. Whatever. I dug around in my purse for The Chart. I had the older, unedited version that Maddie had printed out for our trip to KenTucky Inn, but it would do. Megan was listed as telling me that a glass broke, and I remembered that later she’d told Jeanine that “some things” broke. But so what? Megan Sutley exaggerated. We were all in trouble if a little hyperbole was a crime. Especially when we talked about earthquakes. “Nothing happened” is not a good story (though that was Leo’s); a little fiction makes things more interesting. I remembered allegedly true stories that were passed around during the meeting of my crafts group a few days after the last major quake to affect the San Jose area. Some anecdotes rivaled what might have been depicted in a movie version.

The only thing that concerned me about Megan was that, according to Loretta, she was scheduled to fly back to New York tomorrow. I’d have to check with Skip, but I would have thought a “don’t leave town” rule would apply to all persons of interest in an open homicide case. Maybe the police had already decided they weren’t interested in Megan.

I put on water for tea as I listened to the next message, from Jeanine.

“Hi, Mrs. Porter. This is Jeanine. Um, you probably know my voice.
(Chuckle)
I want you to know that me and Dana are going to the police station tomorrow morning. I also forgot to tell you that when I was waiting for you in your atrium I saw a crystal that I think is the one Ms. Sutley lost from her cell phone case. She’s been looking for it and I told her I thought you might have it. So, in case she calls you, that’s why. Um, thanks for everything today. I’m at work if you need to reach me.”

Too little, too late
, as far as turning themselves in, but I was glad “me and Dana” had come to the right decision. Whether—as a result of my snitching—Skip would contact them before they got to him, remained to be seen. I couldn’t worry about it. In other circumstances, I’d have called and offered to help Jeanine if she needed help with last minute tasks before tomorrow’s informal opening. But now I had no desire to see her or talk to her in person until I knew what would transpire with the police, if it hadn’t already.

Bebe was another story, and I intended to ask Skip what he planned to do about her. I hadn’t decided what I would do about her either. She was beyond reasonable discussion as far as I was concerned. After hearing of her crazy scheme to hassle Catherine, I couldn’t put anything past her. Even murder. Her false confession might have been another scheme. Distract the police with an obviously unlikely story, so they wouldn’t look more closely.

While I let my tea sit a few minutes, I paid a visit to the blue-green bead I’d found at SuperKrafts while I wandered around the store on Sunday afternoon. I hadn’t looked closely at the bead since I’d noticed it in the dim light of the store. I picked it up now and turned it around in my hand. I saw that the bead was indeed a crystal that might have been glued to the case. Crystals were not my field of expertise, but even so, studying it now, I could tell this item was more pricey than the crystal-like beads on the racks of SuperKrafts or on Taylor’s phone case. No wonder Megan was looking for it. I placed it back in the bowl, far from my crafts room where it might not be seen again for years.

Dum dum, da da dum, da da dum.

Maddie on my cell phone. I hoped they weren’t holding dinner for me.

“Where are you, Grandma?”

“I just got home, sweetheart.”

“Uncle Henry said he’d pick you up if you want to come for dinner.”

“Thank him very much, but I think I’ll pass. I’m beat.”

“You’re never beat.”

How nice that I presented an unbeatable image. “You’re right. How about ‘a little tired’ and ‘need a little rest’?”

“Okay, I get it. Uncle Henry said he’d drive me home in a little while if you didn’t want to come. Do you want me to stay away longer?”

“Of course not. I just need to sort out all these things I bought for you.”

Maddie giggled and gave me her new good-bye. “Mwah,” she said, which was so much better than the “Nyah” she’d begun her visit with. I was eager to call Mary Lou and tell her that Maddie’s funk was over, that it wasn’t boy-time yet, and that Maddie and Taylor had reconciled, but I wanted to wait until I had more specifics. Since Mary Lou and Richard were in the same time zone, I could safely wait until later this evening. I doubted my son was even aware of the trauma. He’d married well.

I poured the tea over a large glass of ice, stirred, and took a refreshing sip. I had an idea I wanted to work on for the miniature police station scene—stationery with the LPPD letterhead, inspired by Leo Murray’s watermarked notepads. Though computer tasks were usually Maddie’s job, I thought I could handle searching online for the LPPD logo and shrinking the image to fit mini correspondence paper.

Dum dum, da da dum, da da dum.

Maddie again. It might have been a better idea to simply succumb to the invitation.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t want to bother you, Grandma, but if you want to study The Chart some more before I get home, you should use the latest version. It’s in the printer tray. I put in all the new stuff we learned at KenTucky Inn and what the guy said who came over this morning. Then I forgot to give it to you because it got so busy. Maybe that’s why you’re beat.”

“I’m fine now.”

“Did you find all the things you bought me?”

“Uh-huh, there’s a really fancy dress, and a—”

My granddaughter blew a raspberry at me before clicking off. Imagine.

I abandoned the mini-stationery project, since computer-based crafts weren’t my favorite anyway. Instead, I retrieved the newest chart from my printer and looked it over.

UPDATED THE CHART

Megan
KenTucky Inn
coffeemaker/ice bucket shook, glass broke
Not

Catherine
KenTucky Inn
hotel clock shook and slid (? Maybe)
W

Jeff
inside his store
games toppled
W

Maisie
home
no movement

Bebe
?
?
?

Leo
San Jose store
nothing happened

Jeanine
Seward’s Folly
filters fell, coffee spilled
W

Grandma
home w/Maddie
vase and bowl fell and broke
W, W

The speed with which Maddie had updated the chart—I loved the title—even in her misery over her social life, was impressive, but I’d ceased to be amazed at the wonders of my granddaughter.

I took The Chart and my iced tea to a soft chair in my living room. In retrospect, it might have been a mistake to lean back and stretch my legs out. Soon after I propped a pillow behind my neck, the lines on the sheet began to blur and the slippery paper slid off my lap and onto the floor.

* * *

“Grandma,
Grandma.” Maddie’s voice came to me out of a deep hole. I opened my eyes to see that the sun had set and I’d missed anyone’s idea of dinnertime. “You fell asleep, Grandma.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” I managed, trying to focus.

Henry emerged through the shadows in my head. He very thoughtfully ran the atrium light up slowly through the dimmer switch. “I guess you really were beat,” he said.

I smiled. “How did you come up with that term?”

“It’s all the rage in the Baker household right now.”

I rubbed Maddie’s head, which happened to be on my lap as she knelt on the floor in front of me. “Thanks for taking care of her dinner.”

“Our pleasure,” Henry said.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked, making no move to leave my overly comfortable chair.

“Thanks, no. I’ll be moving along. Are you going to be first in the door at SuperKrafts tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Wednesday. Opening day, albeit an informal beginning. “Probably.”

“Shall I pick you up?”

“That would be great.”

“See you at nine-thirty.”

He leaned over and kissed me. All was well. Maddie let Henry out, in deference to my slow wake-up.

“Do you want me to make you some dinner while you get out my presents?” Maddie asked.

The great negotiator. “That sounds perfect.” I knew eventually I’d have to leave my chair and its cushions.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Surprise me.”

While Maddie prepared my surprise meal, I forced myself out of drowsiness and gathered my shopping bags. It was about time I sorted through the loot I’d purchased. I’d learned long ago that it was physically impossible for me to spend a couple of hours shopping and not buy things for Maddie. I took the bags in the dining room, spread the contents on the now clear table, and began the process of separating the boring items from the more exciting purchases.

Under “boring” I had bought Maddie new summer pajamas. I found a pair with a black-and-white image of headphones hanging down the front of the pajama top, as if she were actually wearing them. Also under “practical” were badly needed socks and a few school supplies. I’d also fallen victim to the strategically placed hair clips by the cash register. Under “exciting” (I hoped) was a medium-sized metal chest marked EMERGENCY SUPPLIES in stenciled letters across the front and back, that contained a booklet on safety for earthquakes, floods, and other disasters, and a list of common things that should be stored for such times. I thought it would be fun to fill the chest. I had a ready supply of water and flashlights, but not a complete kit and not everything was in one place. Our next project could be to put together a chest full of blankets, canned food, bottles of water, extra clothing, a battery-powered radio, and so on, down the list.

“Ready!” Maddie called, summoning me to the atrium where she’d set the little table with a plate of leftovers—a ladleful of fruit salad, and one scoop each of potato salad and a rice-and-cheese dish from not too long ago. On another plate, in front of her seat, was a slice of pizza she must have found in the depths of the freezer.

Since nothing was going to spoil, we agreed to check out the purchases first. She pulled the pajama top over her head immediately, a sign of acceptance, and clapped at the sight of the official disaster kit. I’d done well.

There wasn’t too much time between my late dinner and Maddie’s bedtime, but we squeezed in another session in the crafts room. As I expected, Maddie whipped up an LPPD letterhead in no time, and I took pleasure in my contribution of folding tiny pieces of paper into the shape of envelopes. We’d made an L-shaped desk–computer station combination from a block of Styrofoam covered with adhesive paper, and placed the stationery in strategic spots.

“Did you talk to your mom today?” I asked, using my fingernail to firm up a fold in a miniature envelope that had sprung open.

“Yeah, I called her and said good night, and I told her that I had a good day today. I wish I didn’t make her worry.”

“She knows it’s hard to talk about things sometimes. But as long as you know that we’re always here, and there’s nothing you can’t tell us if you want to, everything is fine.”

Maddie gave me a sweet smile that said my feeble attempts at parent talk were at least passing. It seemed so much easier when her dad was her age, but then Ken was around to take up the slack of what I might have missed.

* * *

At
our bedtime chat, we had a lot to talk about. I praised her work on updating The Chart and she praised my shopping skills on her behalf.

“I’m glad you had a good day with Taylor,” I said.

“Uh-huh. She said she was sorry she left me out of some things. I didn’t want to complain to my mom or you or anything, but there’s a new girl in Taylor’s class, named Sierra, and she has a swimming pool. It’s right down the street.”

“You don’t say?” I asked, with a tip of an imaginary hat to June, who’d nailed it.

“Taylor and all the other kids have been talking about it and even sent around a picture of the pool before we got off school.”

“But you weren’t invited to join them?”

“Uh-uh. Taylor said she asked if I could come and Sierra said she only wanted kids from their school right here.”

“You mean Lincoln Point Elementary?”

“Uh-huh, no one from out of town, like Palo Alto. But all Taylor’s other friends like me, so I guess it’s okay that one person doesn’t.”

“You’ve never even met her, have you?”

Maddie shook her head. “Uh-uh, just emailing with the group.”

“If she knew you, she’d love you,” I said, tickling the right spots for maximum laughter.

When she calmed down, Maddie continued to explain. “Taylor said she was sorry and she should have at least told me instead of just ignoring me.”