He knocked gently on the door. He heard soft footfalls on the carpet on the other side. Joni Singleton answered.
“Hi there, counselor,” she said. “Heard about you on the evening news.”
Ben groaned. “Don’t you know better than to watch that crap? It’ll rot your brain.”
“Too late.” When Ben had first moved into this boarding house, Joni, her twin sister, and their oversized family were already living in the room on the opposite side of the top floor. Back then, she was just a silly teenager with big hair and an equal-sized wild streak. Under Ben’s tutelage, she had matured into one of the most nurturing caregivers he had ever known, first with Ben’s nephew, Joey, and now with Mrs. Marmelstein. “Don’t worry, Ben. Everyone who knows you knows those accusations are, like, total nontruths.”
“That’s swell. But what about the other half a million people in the greater metropolitan area?”
“I’m sure you’ll prove it to them, too. Why is that skank saying all those nasty things?”
“To please his corporate bosses. It’s a tactic. He’s trying to get me to back off.”
“Wow. Harsh.”
“You could say that.”
“But you’re not going to back off, right?”
“Right. I’ve got a few tactics of my own.”
She grinned. “Razor.” She widened the door and motioned for him to come inside. “I’m glad you came by. I called earlier, but you weren’t home yet.”
A worry line creased Ben’s brow. “Is something wrong with Mrs. Marmelstein?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. She got out an old photo album earlier this evening, and she’s been acting strange ever since. She’s sitting in her bedroom, practically in the dark. Every time I try to talk to her, I get no results.”
That was disturbing. It was a shame, really, that Ben principally saw her at night, after work. Mrs. Marmelstein had a tendency to sundown; night was usually her least lucid period.
Gently, he pushed her bedroom door open and stepped inside.
“Paul?” She was sitting in an easy chair. The lamp beside her was the only source of illumination. “Paulie, is that you?”
He recognized her voice, although there was something odd, something different about it.
“It’s Ben. Ben Kincaid.”
“Paulie?” she repeated, her voice strange and breathless. “Paulie? I knew you’d come.”
He took a step toward her. He turned on the overhead light, trying to brighten up the gloom.
“See? It’s me. Ben. I’m sorry to be home so late. I’ve had … a busy day.”
Her eyes lit upon his face and, after several seconds had passed, the light of recognition finally came on. Her shoulders sagged and her whole face seemed to droop. “I thought … I …”
Her voice drifted off into the darkness. Ben saw she was wearing a flannel nightgown, despite the fact that it was quite warm out. A slipper on one foot; nothing on the other. Her face was pale, almost ashen. Her hands trembled noticeably. He had never seen her look so feeble.
The photo album was in her lap. But in her hand, she held a gold-framed photograph he had never seen before.
“Can I look at this?” She didn’t answer, but she didn’t resist, either. He took the photo and held it up to the light.
It was very old; he judged it to date back to the Fifties at least. It had sculpted edges and was black and white, although the years had begun to give it a sepia tone. In the center of the picture a man and woman huddled close together. They were young—early thirties at best.
And between them, they cradled a tiny baby.
Ben had never seen any of the three in the photo as such, but even as old as the picture was, he could tell the woman was a much earlier version of Mrs. Marmelstein. The man, he assumed, was her late husband.
Ben pointed to the baby. “Is this Paulie?”
Her eyes darted away. “Paulie will come back. I’m certain of it. I always was. Paulie will come back.”
“Who’s Paulie?”
“He will come back. You’ll see.”
Ben frowned. “Where is Paulie?”
“Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. He’ll come back to me.”
Ben ran his fingers through some of the other photos in her lap. He found another old one with three subjects, the Marmelsteins and a boy with jet-black hair, maybe twelve years of age.
“Is this Paulie?” he asked.
She seemed startled by the name, or perhaps by Ben’s use of it. She glanced at the picture. “That was a long time ago.”
“How long?”
She looked up abruptly. “Paulie’s coming back to me, you know.”
“He is?”
“Oh, yes. He’s coming. I’m certain of it.”
“When is he coming?”
“I don’t know when exactly. But I know he’s coming. I know it.”
Ben gazed into her ashen face, then made a silent prayer that Paulie hurried.
He placed the photos on the end table and quietly left the room. Seeing her like this made his heart ache. For all her foibles, Mrs. Marmelstein had always been such a sweet, gentle person. He hated seeing time rob her of her personality, her sense of self, all the things that made her the special person she was.
And what was this business about Paulie? He’d never heard her mention a Paulie before. And she’d certainly never given the slightest indication that she had any children.
“How long has this been going on?” he asked Joni.
“Since we finished dinner. Normally, she eats and goes straight to sleep. But tonight, for some reason, she was determined to get out that photo album. And she’s been in there muttering to no one ever since.”
“Do you know anything about this Paulie?”
“Sorry. Clueless.”
“Joni …” He was trying to think of a painless way to address this. “Mrs. Marmelstein … doesn’t look so good.”
Joni nodded her head somberly.
“Did you go with her to the doctor this week?”
Again she nodded.
“And?”
Joni gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “She’s failing, Ben.”
His eyes darted down toward the floor. “That’s what I thought.”
Chapter 9
CHRISTINA MET BEN AT the door the moment he arrived at work.
“It’s official,” she said, waving a thin document in front of his face. “We’re at war.”
Ben snatched the paper from her hands. “As if I didn’t know that already.” He threw his briefcase down on his desk and gave the pleading a quick onceover. “They’ve filed their Answer? Already? Defendants usually let a month pass before they get around to that.”
“It came accompanied by a Motion to Dismiss.”
“That son of a bitch really did it.”
“He did.” She passed him the motion. “It’s a tactic, Ben. That’s all it is.”
He did not appear appeased. “When’s the hearing?”
She drew in her breath. She knew he wasn’t going to like this part. “Three o"clock. This afternoon.”
“This afternoon? What’s the big damn hurry?”
“To read their motion, you’d think all of Western civilization was teetering on the brink.”
“Who’d we draw?”
“Judge Perry.”
“Perry! Jiminy Christmas!” Ben pounded his forehead. “You’re full of good news today, aren’t you?”
Christina held up her hands. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger.”
“I can’t believe we drew Perry. The last thing on earth this case needs is a Reagan appointee. And not one renowned for his big heart, either.” This was a critical blow. They needed a sympathetic ear, someone who would be moved by his clients" plight and perhaps even would cut them some slack occasionally as a result. But they didn’t get it. And like it or not, this judge would be with them till the bitter end of the case. “I’m still surprised they went ahead and filed their Answer.”