“That’s the truth.” Fair’s deep voice resonated.
“I’ve been thinking so much about Silver Linings. Pete loved working with young people. You know, what he really was focusing on was finding a building that could house the group. St. Cyril’s is bursting at the seams. We have so many Hispanic members now. Pete wanted the kids to be somewhere relaxing and safe. Plus, St. Cyril’s needs the space.”
“Wonderful idea. And giving the truck for a raffle was so generous.”
“We both loved doing that. We’ve been so fortunate. So many of those boys haven’t. Pete always said, ‘Give people a chance. Don’t shut the door. Open it.’ ”
“Most people will go through the door.” Fair agreed with Pete’s philosophy.
“I’ve met so many of the new people through the church. Many are Hispanic, as I mentioned. It enrages me that the stereotype is an apple picker who can’t speak English.”
“Oh, Charlene, what would people do without stereotypes? What’s the stereotype of a car dealer?”
This brought the relief of laughter. Someone was talking to her without a long face spouting platitudes about closure.
“Think I fit it?” She smiled. “Give me a cigar, and let’s make a deal.”
“That’s not you.”
Her son Alex popped his head in. Fair stood and shook his hand.
“Good to see you, Dr. Haristeen.”
“You too, Alex. I know this is a difficult time. We’re all glad you’re working in the business over Christmas break.”
“I like learning about the dealership.” He acknowledged Fair’s sympathetic words, then lifted his eyes to his mother. “Mom, the insurance claims adjuster is here to look at Dad’s Explorer.”
“Fine.” She smiled. “If he wants it in the garage, have it towed in.”
“Okay.” Alex left.
Charlene turned to Fair. “Fixing a claim when you’re a dealer is usually simple enough. We’ve had people total cars on test drives. Still, I never look forward to it. The paperwork is almost as bad as the accident.”
“I can believe that.” Fair’s voice was soothing. “Don’t you pay interest every day on cars on the lot?”
“You bet I do.” Her eyes met his. “Owning a dealership is not for the fainthearted.”
When Fair pulled up by the barn, it was already dark at 6:30. He cut the motor, sat in the cab and looked out at the frozen pastures, the deep night sky. Then he pulled the key, dropped it in the center tray. Inside, in the kitchen, he was greeted by his wife with a hug and a kiss.
Within minutes, both had provided recaps of their days.
“Glad Charlene looked good.” Harry pulled out two cups. “Green tea?”
“No. I don’t know what I want right now.”
“While you’re thinking about it, Susan and I saw Mr. Thompson. Our solid and trig teacher. Remember him?”
“Sure. I thought he was dead.”
“Half dead. Pickled.” She tipped back her head, swallowing an imaginary drink.
“There was a rumor of that when we were in school. Sorry.”
“He has this deaf and mostly blind dog, lives alone. Has a wood-burning stove in the kitchen. All the paint’s peeled from the house. It’s funny. Our last stop, we also dropped things off to an older person, Miss Rice. House just the opposite. Neat as a pin.”
“Rice.” He pondered the name. “Little odd?”
“Odd doesn’t cover it.”
“She used to work for Diana Valencia, more money than God. Miss Rice worked in her barn office. I was starting out. She was nice, as I recall. Somewhat religious. As time went by, she rarely spoke to me anymore. Perfectly nice but introverted. I never knew how the Valencias got their money.”
“When turn signals were first invented, the problems were with the wiring. In bad weather, a lot of them didn’t work. Diana Valencia figured out how to solve the problem. This was way back when women were told they couldn’t do mechanical or engineering things.”
“Never knew that,” said Fair, before adding, “Come to think of it, Miss Rice is Esther Mercier’s older sister. I remember seeing Miss Mercier once at the barn. One thing about living in Virginia, your memory won’t go bad.”
“Why?” Harry asked.
“You need to use it constantly to remember who is related to whom.” He laughed.
“Make up your mind yet?” She smiled.
“I am going to have a cup of green tea with a shot of scotch.”
“That’s original.”
“Isn’t that why you married me?” He grinned.
“There were other factors.” She poured the hot water into his cup.
Listening in were the cats and dog all curled up in their kitchen beds. They had beds everywhere.
Sipping their beverages, the husband and wife reviewed tomorrow’s schedule.
“So you’re going out again?” he asked.
“The response to the need for clothing has been overwhelming. Today we delivered stuff for St. Cyril’s. St. Luke’s is overflowing. More deliveries tomorrow.”
“I thought December twentieth was supposed to be the big day.”
“There will be plenty to do on that day, but we’ve got to disburse some of the canned goods and clothing. There’s no way we can deliver everything in just one day. Also, we lost some days with Pete’s death. Most of the St. Cyril’s ladies were at the Vavilovs’. Us, too.”
“I have a couple of old but good sweaters. I could root through my drawers.”
“Honey, we have more than enough, plus all your clothing is covered in cat hair.”
“No outfit is complete without it!” Pewter loudly proclaimed.
“What if I run out of the car?” Pewter maliciously considered this route in the back of the now almost empty Volvo. It had been a long, long day, with their human busy handing out food she could keep and nosing into other people’s business.
“I’d chase you.” Tucker solemnly vowed.
“Ha.” Pewter swished her tail.
Nose-to-nose, Mrs. Murphy threatened her fellow feline, “You aren’t going anywhere. We’re almost done with this run, and I want to go home.” The tiger cat then turned to Tucker. “Don’t set her off.”
Ears drooping, Tucker flopped down in the back of the Volvo station wagon.
Harry, by herself, had been dropping off food and clothing since eleven, the time she usually finished her farm chores. With one stop left, she peered upward out the windshield, then Harry reached over to pet Mrs. Murphy, who had come up to sit in the passenger seat.
The twisting road climbed toward the Blue Ridge Mountains. The sky threatened, charcoal gray. Harry turned left onto another snow-packed dirt road, followed the ridge, then turned right down a narrow drive that was at least plowed. She finished by 3:30.
——
At 3:30 Arden Higham labored in the small office at St. Cyril’s. Friday was her regular bookkeeping day. With the end of the year looming, the demands escalated. Arden wanted to keep up with it all.
Jessica Hexham had the same idea. Walking in, she said, “It’s a zoo out there. I’ll be doing the church books until midnight.”
“Lord, I hope not. If you’ll be here to midnight, I’ll be here until two in the morning. You’re faster than I am.” She twirled a pencil. “Traffic?”
“Yes, and it’s snowing again. When is this going to end? Hardly any last winter, and now, boom.” Jessica shook her head.
Arden’s cell rang. “Hello.”
“Mom, where’s Dad?” her son, Tyler, said. “I’ve been waiting forty-five minutes.”
“Did you call him?” she asked, looking over at Jessica.
“Of course I called him.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Jessica just walked in and said traffic is a problem.”