Cold River (27 page)

Her office door opened. She didn’t turn around but stood quietly, face to the wall, chin up, and waited.

“Uh…” It was Grange.

She didn’t answer, didn’t turn.

He cleared his throat. “This box came this morning. Ben Short brought it from downriver. It was addressed to the superintendent, and he brought it to me, but I think it’s yours.”

Silence.

Grange cleared his throat. “I’ll just set it here on your desk, then.”

Mandy had just about worn the paint off a spot on the wall by staring at it, but she wasn’t going to turn around and give Grange Timberlain the satisfaction of seeing her in tears.

“I’m just off to the high school, then,” he said. “I’ve put it in my calendar.”

Mandy stood ramrod straight until she heard the door close. She counted to ten and dove for the tissues on her desk. After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, she noticed the box on her desk was the one that Grange had picked up off his floor. One flap was half open, and she saw something yellow inside. Curious, she pulled it back and then unfolded the others. There, nestled in a bed of tissue, was a bouquet of yellow roses and a card slantwise in the envelope, as if it had been hastily stuffed in. She pulled it out and read:

I saw on the weather map that you’re having rain today. Here’s some sunshine for you. I’ve got to stay here longer than I thought I would. Funny, I used to love jobs like this. Now all I want is to get back to Limestone. I’ll try to make it back on Saturday. If I do, save me the last dance.

She smiled as she read the note, then buried her face in the flowers and let the familiar perfume soothe away the ragged edges her meeting with Grange had left on her composure. Noticing the flowers were a little wilted, she decided she’d better get them in water, and she took a step toward her door. She stopped, for Grange was on the other side of the glass, as still as a statue, staring at her with flinty eyes.

Mandy’s chin came up. Holding the bouquet at her waist like a bride, she met his gaze. When he turned on his heel and strode around the mezzanine, her eyes followed the tall, erect figure until the bright blue of his plaid wool shirt disappeared down the stairs. Moments later, she heard the front door close with more force than necessary.

All of a sudden, her chin began to quiver. She bit her lip, but the tears were flowing again, and a high-pitched, closed-mouth wail fought its way through every barrier she put up and escaped out into the room.

Mrs. Berman entered moments later with a mug in her hand. She took one look and set the cup down on the desk. Putting her arm around Mandy’s shoulders, she murmured, “There, there. Don’t take on so. There, there.” She guided Mandy to her chair, offered a tissue, and waited. When the tears showed signs of abating, the older lady said gently, “You mustn’t mind him, dearie. He has a hard time being second best. Just bad luck that Ben Short mistakenly delivered— but never mind.”

Mandy blew her nose. “I don’t mind him,” she said damply. “At least not usually. I think the fire must have got to me.”

Mr. Berman handed her the cup. “Drink this. What fire?”

Mandy took the steaming mug in both hands. “Thank you,” she murmured and took a sip.

“A fire?” Mrs. Berman pressed. “Where was it?”

Mandy looked at her over the rim. “On the outside wall beside the sliding glass door.”

“Of your house? What caused it?” Mrs. Berman was out of nurture mode. She peered inquisitively over her glasses.

Mandy sighed. “I don’t know what caused it. It may have started in the wall, though there’s no indication of that.”

“You could find out quick enough by cutting a hole in the wall.”

“I’ll leave that to Fran.” Mandy took another sip of the herb tea. “Thank you for this.”

Mrs. Berman wouldn’t leave it. “Did you hear anybody? See anybody?”

“I was in bed asleep. It happened early in the morning.”

The older lady’s eyes widened and she paled. “In bed? Why, you could have been killed! That house is built of cedar, which means it’s built of kindling.”

“We were lucky. Leesie woke up and Fran showed up, and we put the fire out ourselves.”

Mrs. Berman nodded. “Lucky, indeed.” She walked toward the door and paused to say, “Drink that whole cup, now.”

“I will.”

Perhaps it was the comfrey, or perhaps it was Mrs. Berman’s attentions, but Mandy soon felt better. She dried her eyes and repaired her makeup, and when Midge knocked at her door, she was able to greet her normally. They had a long, productive meeting, and when Mandy saw the woman’s progress in preparing a grant proposal, her spirits rose a notch.

Mandy was able to smile at Mo when he knocked tentatively at her door after lunch and asked about the meeting with Grange. “I didn’t think it went well,” he said, eyeing the flowers on her desk. “It was certainly a short meeting.”

“To be fair, he had the same reaction I had when you presented the idea to me,” she said. “He kept the folder. We’re not done yet.” She sent Mo off in a hopeful frame of mind and prepared for her appointment with Elizabeth.

Mandy’s eyes twinkled as the student aide edged through the doorway and sidled to the chair. “Sit down,” Mandy invited. “Let’s talk about your idea.”

It appeared that Elizabeth couldn’t talk about anything until she had unburdened herself. She confessed her part in Willow’s car decorating scheme and begged forgiveness.

Mandy assured her she already knew the whole and diverted her into a discussion of a way to market school-spirit items in the school. When Elizabeth left, her characteristic, incandescent smile was back, and Mandy had fully recovered her own buoyant composure. She was able to spend the rest of the afternoon focused on district matters and was surprised when Mrs. Berman poked her head in to say she was going home.

Mandy glanced at the clock. “Is it that time already?”

Mrs. Berman nodded. “Are you leaving soon? Shall I lock up? Everyone else is gone.”

“No, I’ll do it. I’m leaving pretty soon, too.” Mandy turned off her computer. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, Mrs. Berman, for your concern this morning.”

The older woman smiled. “Call me Edith. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mandy got her jacket and purse and picked up the levy folder Grange had given her. Carrying it with her, she descended the stairs, locked the door, and sprinted to her car. She drove through the steady drizzle to Stevie Joe Hawes’s garage, where she was to leave her car to have her tires rotated while she taught Tammy’s reading lesson. She turned up her wipers and wished she’d brought an umbrella for the walk.

Mandy was delighted to see that the garage was just down the street from Tammy’s. She pulled in beside the familiar 80’s vintage pickup painted a shiny candy-apple red. As she got out of the Miata, she looked inside the pickup and noted the gun rack over the rear window, empty except for a pair of binoculars hanging from one of the arms. She grabbed the file folder and her purse and hurried in to leave her keys with Stevie Joe. Then she headed down the street to Tammy’s.

Mandy found that her pupil had been diligent in her studies. She had locked in the two words that Mandy left with her and two others besides.

“I find if I work on one and then sleep on it, something happens that keeps it in my brain,” Tammy said, laughing as she pulled a chair up to her work table. “Come over here. Listen to me read.”

With such an eager pupil, the hour flew by. When the lesson was over, Tammy begged for something she could do to repay Mandy. She thought a minute and said she really needed someone to help Leesie organize Harvey Berman’s office at the bus garage.

“But if I can’t read, what help would I be?”

“Leesie can help you get started. It’s really just a matter of reading numbers and putting things in the right folders. I think you’ll do fine.”

“What do you know!” Tammy grinned. “Me working in an office. Who’d a thunk it? I’m not going to tell him you sent me, though. You’re not Harvey’s favorite right now.”

“I know.” Mandy picked up her purse and folder. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Tammy walked her to the door. “Where’s your car?”

Mandy pointed down the street. “I left it at the garage to have the tires rotated.”

“Stevie Joe’s my little brother, did you know?”

“No, I didn’t. My goodness, there are lots of relatives in this small town.”

“He’s married to one of your teachers. Vonda Hawes?”

“Oh.” Mandy looked down the street toward the garage. “Is that his red pickup?” When Tammy nodded, Mandy said, “I’ve seen him driving by my house a couple of times.” She let the statement hang as an unasked question.

“Do you live by the river?”

Mandy nodded.

“He was probably watching for nesting eagles. This is the time they lay their eggs, and he’s got a couple of pair he’s documenting for Fish and Game.”

Mandy looked next door. “Is Granny Timberlain home, do you know? I need to talk to her about something.”

“I think she is. Just knock. She’ll be glad to see you, I know.”

Mandy thanked Tammy for saying she’d help Leesie and headed toward Granny Timberlain’s with her levy folder in her hand. She intended to ask that venerable lady for help when she went to eat humble pie— probably called Tarheel Humble Pie— served up by Nettie Maypole.

GRANNY TIMBERLAIN ASKED
Mandy in, listened serenely as her guest recounted her history with Nettie Maypole, and nodded a sage approval as the younger woman framed her request. Since the Maypoles lived right behind Tammy, they walked through the lot then stood in a small portico out of the rain as they waited for an answer to their knock.

Nettie led them through a narrow hall into a tiny living room and invited them to sit on a couch covered with an afghan. Mandy, with sweaty palms and a mouth so dry she had a hard time pronouncing the letter T, asked Nettie to head up the levy committee. She was so relieved to hear her say, “I thought you weren’t going to ask,” that she willingly listened to a recital of already-laid campaign plans. When Mandy and Granny Timberlain left half an hour later, Nettie was dialing the first number on her telephone tree.

As they walked through the gathering dusk, Mandy heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you for going with me to talk to her, Mrs. Timberlain. I could never have done that alone.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You did fine. You made her feel needed. That’s all anybody wants.”

“Well, I do need her, and that’s the truth.” Looking past Maypole’s house to the street, Mandy asked, “Is that Vince Laffitte’s car parked out in front?”

“Probably. When Vince goes out of town, Mutt takes him to the airport and then just keeps his car here.”

“I guess the whole town knows when Vince is away.”

Granny smiled. “I don’t know if everyone does, but I like to keep track of him.”

“Why is that?” Mandy opened a gate at the back of the Maypole’s yard and held it for her companion.

Granny paused halfway through and smiled at Mandy. “He has very fine eyes.”

Mandy laughed. “I guess he does.” She closed the gate and followed the older lady to her back door, at first declining the invitation to come in.

“You’d better let me give you an umbrella,” Granny said. “It’s starting to rain hard, and you’ll be soaked by the time you get down to your car.”

Mandy agreed and stepped inside while Granny opened the hall closet and rummaged inside. Looking around idly, Mandy noticed a family portrait on the end table.

“I didn’t see this picture last time I was here,” she said, picking it up and turning it to the light.

“It’s been put away in a box. I just got a new frame for it.” Granny emerged with a black umbrella.

“You haven’t aged a bit,” Mandy said.

The woman in the photograph had the same dark hair piled high, the same luminous eyes, the same high cheekbones. That woman’s cheeks were smoother, and the hand that she had around her youngest son had no age spots on it, but there was no doubt it was the same person.

“This is Jacob,” Granny said, pointing to a sandy-haired man who looked to be about twenty-five. He’s Rael’s father. This is Fred. He’s Grange’s father. There’s been a Frederick Granger in my family for six generations. This is Lucinda. She’s Tammy and Stevie Joe’s mother, and this is Benjamin. Everyone called him Buck.”

“He has very fine eyes,” Mandy murmured.

“Yes, he did.” Granny said softly.

Mandy set the picture down. “I think you need to tell Vince.”

“Tell him what, my dear?”

“Tell him that he has fine eyes.”

“When the time is right.”

Mandy picked up her purse. “Actually, he already knows. I just think he needs to hear it from you.”

“When the time is right,” Granny repeated. She put her arm around Mandy as she walked her to the door. “Here’s the umbrella. Drive carefully.”

“I will,” Mandy promised. She was thankful for the protection as she hurried to her car. She got in, found the keys under the front seat as Stevie Joe had promised, and started the car. It was pitch dark, and the rain streamed down so hard the wipers had a hard time keeping up. She drove slowly, peering through the windshield to track the fog line on the side of the road. It seemed to take forever, but finally she saw the lights of Fran’s house ahead and looked for the turnoff to her gravel road. When she found it and veered gently to the right, she was conscious that now there was no white line to show her where the edge dropped steeply off into blackberry bushes.