“Oh. Well, good!” Kiki fidgeted around some more, going through the stack of magazines on the table between the two wicker chairs, picking up this item or that item and examining it, only to return it to not-exactly-the-right place.
“So,” Kiki said, when she’d exhausted the possibilities of the store, “what do you think Quinn’s doing now?”
“Probably visiting with Diederik, because that’s what he came here to do,” Fiji said. “Or if Diederik’s busy, Quinn’s working up in his hotel room on his laptop.”
“Why would Diederik be busy?”
“He has a couple of . . . jobs,” Fiji said. “He helps the Rev out. And he works over at the hotel doing janitor work in the evenings.”
Kiki decided to rearrange the wicker chairs and the table. “Who’s the Rev?”
“The Rev is the older man who wears the black suit and hat,” Fiji said between clenched teeth.
“Why is he helping to raise Diederik?”
Fiji had to think quick to come up with an answer for that one. She wasn’t going to tell her sister that the three men were weretigers. “The Rev is a distant relation. Quinn travels all the time, so the Rev’s glad to keep Diederik here until he can go along with his dad. We’re all helping.”
“So he’s been here for years?”
In tiger terms, yes. In human terms, not so much. “We’ve all watched him grow up,” Fiji said truthfully.
“Quinn had quite a chat with you today out on the porch. All by your lonesomes.”
“We’re friends.”
“You never thought about making a play for him?”
No, because I was blinded by my love for Bobo. “I never did,” Fiji said calmly.
“Because, seriously, he looks like he would be a tiger in the sack.”
Fiji snorted with laughter. “I’ll bet he would,” she said. She had a strong conviction it was not the first time that observation had been made about John Quinn. She thought for a moment about how it would feel, going to bed with Quinn, all that olive skin at her pleasure. She felt a twinge, and knew it would be a memorable experience, but somehow Fiji didn’t think she’d follow that up.
She glanced at her watch. “Kiki, you want to cook supper tonight?”
“Oh. You don’t feel like it? What were you going to have?”
“I have some chicken in the refrigerator in the meat drawer. How about chicken baked in spaghetti sauce over pasta, with a salad?”
“Got any garlic bread?”
“There should be some in the freezer.”
“Then you got a deal,” Kiki said.
It was really nice not to have to cook this evening, but not quite nice enough to make up for the aggravation and tension that Kiki’s presence caused her. At least Fiji kept busy that afternoon. Three women from Marthasville stopped by to exclaim over the philosophy books, the witchcraft books, and the astrology charts. They even bought two or three things apiece. And as the afternoon came to an end, Fiji could smell cooking from the back of the house, a novel assurance that she could sit back and relax, maybe work on the store’s books for a while.
Though the chicken was a little overdone and the salad a little overdressed, Fiji enjoyed eating a meal that she hadn’t had to prepare. Dinner was even more pleasant when Kiki ran out of small talk. But Fiji could tell there was something else on her sister’s mind. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that might be, but automatically she began reviewing the possibilities.
After a moment, Fiji realized that Kiki hadn’t said one word about hearing from her husband or their parents since her arrival. Kiki specialized in adversarial phone conversations. This dearth of controversy seemed very odd. I haven’t even seen her pick up her cell phone, Fiji realized. Significant, but in what way?
There was a knock at the front door just as they’d finished eating. Fiji peered out to see through the glass pane that her caller was Teacher Reed. Though she was surprised, Fiji hurried through to unlock it.
Teacher said, “Sorry to bother you, Fiji, I know you’re closed. But my truck has just died, right here.” Fiji peered past him. Teacher’s old pickup had pulled in just off the road. “Can I leave it there until the morning? The tow truck will come get it then, early, I promise.”
“Sure, that’s fine,” Fiji said, feeling Kiki coming up behind her. The woman was as curious as a ferret. “I hope it’s not too broken.”
“Bad enough that I can’t fix it myself,” Teacher said. In Fiji’s observation, Teacher was a man who liked to listen more than he liked to talk, who would rather do than be done for, and he seemed to have a personal goal of self-sufficiency. Fiji found all that admirable, but not endearing. “I had big plans for tomorrow, now that I’m free of working at Gas N Go,” Teacher said.
“I’m glad for you. And I know everyone in town will be relieved now that you’re available as a handyman again!”
“Good to hear. But I’m giving myself a few days off. I was going to Killeen in the morning, but I guess now I’m staying home. I’ll let you know when I can get it moved. Sorry.” And with a wave, he walked off.
At least after Teacher had gone Kiki didn’t ask questions. It wasn’t that Kiki disliked men of color, or looked down on women who dated men of color—at least, Fiji didn’t think so. Kiki simply didn’t see them as suitable play partners for her, so they didn’t register with her as male.
About an hour later, Manfred called her. “What’s broken at your place?” he asked.
“Not a thing, unless you know something I don’t know.”
“Teacher just stopped in for a visit?”
They both knew how unlikely that was. “Right,” Fiji said, laughing. She was holding the phone to her ear with one hand while she put a bookmark into an Anne Rice novel with the other. “No, his truck broke down, and it’s beyond his power to fix so he’s in a state about it. Plus, he had an appointment in Killeen tomorrow and now he can’t go.”
“Killeen? Huh. I have to go to Killeen tomorrow. I should give him a call.”
Manfred didn’t sound too excited about it.
Fiji said, “He won’t know, if you don’t spread it around. I guess you two aren’t soul mates?”
“It just seems so random,” Manfred said. “That he should need to go where I’m going. And that it should also be somewhere I’ve never gone.”
“Got your spidey-sense tingling?”
“Yes,” Manfred said.
“Don’t call him, then,” she advised. “It won’t kill him to wait a few days until his truck is fixed. Killeen will still be there.”
“I’ll think about it,” Manfred said. “I feel like I owe him for fixing my sink. He came over at ten at night after he’d closed the convenience store. That was kind of above and beyond the call of duty. Okay, well, glad nothing’s wrong with your water heater, or your plumbing.”
“Me, too.”
“Hey, I got a couple of bottles of that pinot grigio you like so much. It was on sale. Want me to bring one over? We can talk about the state of the world.”
“Sure, come on over. We just cleaned up after supper, but there are some leftovers if you’re hungry.”
“Nah, I’ve eaten. But I’m walking over with the wine.”
Fiji put down her phone and said, “Kiki, let’s put out those cheese straws in a bowl.”
“Company’s coming?” Kiki said, trying not to sound too eager. Kiki’s face lit up at the prospect of having someone else to talk to besides her sister. Truth be told, Fiji felt the same way.
“Manfred, and he’s bringing wine. So if you could get out some glasses? They’re on the second shelf of that cabinet.” Fiji pointed.
Thirty minutes later, the three of them were sitting around the wicker table in the shop portion of the house. Fiji had rolled her office chair around the counter for the third seat.
; She understood that the conversation was stilted, but she didn’t really know how to cut the thread of awkwardness. She and Manfred had a comfortable relationship. Adding Kiki to the mix had put in roadblocks.
Oh, her sister could have a conversation . . . the famous people she’d “happened” to meet, the odd customers who’d come into the mall clothing store where she worked. The punch line of each story was (always) Kiki setting them straight in their opinions and life styles with a pithy phrase or put-down.
Manfred was very polite about the lopsided conversation. He could say “Really?” or “You did not!” as well as the next person.
But Fiji became more and more embarrassed. Finally, she was compelled to stem the tide. At the next pause in the monologue, she jumped in. “Why are you going to Killeen, Manfred? Do you have a private reading there?”
He smiled ruefully. “Yes, but a nonpaying one. I won’t tell you the whole long story, but I owe my lawyer one. You remember Magdalena, I’m sure.”
“She’s dating Arthur Smith now, isn’t she? You’re just a cupid, Manfred!”
He made a mock-modest face and bowed.
“The sheriff and his lawyer sort of knew each other, but Manfred brought them together,” Fiji said in an aside to her sister.
Kiki had taken the change of subject with good grace and was doing her best to look interested. Possibly she’d remembered conversation is a two-way street.
“Tomorrow I’m giving Magdalena’s mom a private reading. The first time we scheduled it, her mom had to cancel. But tomorrow, I’m driving to Killeen to clear the board.” He said this with more relief than Fiji would have expected.
“Has Magdalena been bugging you about it?”
“You have no idea,” Manfred said, shaking his head. “She’s tenacious, which makes her a great lawyer. But she’s a very uncomfortable person to owe a favor to.”
“How far is Killeen?” Kiki said.
“It should take about three hours to get there,” Manfred said. “Oh, by the way, Feej, I called Teacher and he jumped at the chance to ride with me. I figured as long as I was canceling out a favor I owed, I might as well cancel another one, too.”
Fiji smiled. “I like your reasoning. It’s a good thing to be square with Teacher.”
“The guy who left his truck in front of your shop?” Kiki said, to make it clear she was feeling left out.
“You met him,” Fiji said. “He just texted me to tell me a tow truck would be coming early in the morning to get the pickup out of the way.”
“Want some more cheese straws?” Kiki asked their guest, determined to insert herself into the conversation.
“Oh, I’m not company,” Manfred said easily. “I’ll get my own.” And he did.
After twenty more minutes, Manfred made leaving sounds. He offered to wash the wineglasses, but Fiji said, “I give you a pass on helping this time, since you brought the wine. You have to get an early start in the morning, anyway.”
After he’d departed, Kiki could hardly wait until the door slammed behind him before she began asking questions. The fact that Manfred was a real Internet presence had escaped her until this evening. She wanted to know all about him.
Fiji answered the questions she could and shrugged at the questions she couldn’t. She did point out that Manfred was at least eight years younger than Kiki, whose face went sour at the reminder.
“It’s like you’re telling me I can’t flirt with anyone in your precious little town,” Kiki said. Her voice was sharp and her face was hard.
Fiji made herself pause before she snapped back. She gave Kiki’s accusation a minute’s thought. “I’m just pointing out facts,” she said. “Flirt with all of them, if you want.” She spread her hands to indicate the buffet of men available in Midnight. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone whose age is so different, that’s all.”
“Same difference as between you and the Diederik boy,” Kiki said meanly.
“What?” Fiji had turned away to dry the last glass. Now she swung to face Kiki again.
“Well, he is really tasty looking,” Kiki said with a smirk. “And he doesn’t look at you like he’s thinking how old you are.”
Fiji exhaled heavily, trying to control her impulse to jump on her sister and beat her about the head. But a thread of honesty kept her from it. It was true that when Diederik was helping the Rev dig graves in the pet cemetery, with his shirt off, it was hard not to think about him . . . carnally. If she just happened to be there at the time. But all Fiji had to do to bring herself back to reality was to remember Diederik as he’d been less than a year before, a very little boy who was really scared.
That memory was cold water. Ice water.
“Kiki, I really don’t want to hear that again. I’ve known that boy since he was a toddler, and I don’t even want that idea to cross my own mind, much less anyone else’s.”
“Oh, Fiji, I was just kidding!” (She hadn’t been.)
“Don’t kid anymore.” Fiji let the water out of the sink. “I’ll put the dishes away in the morning. I’m going to read for a while, and then I’m going to bed. Do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m just fine.” Kiki looked angry because she felt guilty, and Fiji thought there should be a word for that. Guilter? Anguilty?
“See you tomorrow.” Fiji escaped to her room, shutting the door behind her with great delicacy.
The only television in the cottage was in the shop portion, and it was no great TV set. Fiji didn’t care that much about watching, though she heard all the time there was good programming that she really ought to see. But she always seemed to have something better to do. As Fiji, in her nightgown, padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth, she heard the television come on and saw the glow. Just as gently as she could, she closed the door between the shop and the residence. Mr. Snuggly came through the cat door, stopped by his bowls, and jumped up on Fiji’s bed the minute she climbed in. Fiji read some more of the Anne Rice novel, and worked a crossword puzzle, and caught herself yawning. She switched off her lamp and wiggled down in bed, Mr. Snuggly curled up at her feet.
Fiji said prayers every night, though she varied whom she prayed to. Tonight, she prayed for a smooth trip for Manfred and Teacher, and she also prayed that her sister would finally tell her why she’d really come to visit, and then find a reason to go.
6
At seven the next morning, Manfred and Teacher left for Killeen.
Teacher walked into Manfred’s yard holding a travel mug of coffee and looking morose just as Manfred was stowing his valise in the backseat. The two men nodded at each other, and Teacher got into the passenger seat. After a brief pause while Manfred put Agnes Orta’s address into his GPS, they drove south.
After Manfred had had his favorite morning beverage, Coca-Cola, and Teacher had worked on his coffee, Manfred found himself casting around to think of a topic of conversation. Manfred hadn’t met the new manager of Gas N Go yet, and he asked Teacher about the newcomer. Teacher told Manfred that he was okay. Teacher cataloged the repair jobs that had accumulated while he was employed at the convenience store and let Manfred know he was plenty upset about his truck failing him.
“What do you need to do in Killeen?” Manfred asked, after they’d listened to the morning news on the radio and agreed that the world was in sad shape. “I hope something that’ll take a couple of hours? I’ll be at least that long, I think.”
“I’ve got a friend there who handles this brand of tools I like a lot, so rather than order a few over the Internet and guess which one I’ll really use, which one feels the best in my hand, I thought I’d take a look at ’em,” Teacher said. “He just e-mailed me to tell me he’d gotten in some new things, and I didn’t have a job scheduled for today, so I’d planned on driving down there. Kind of a treat to get away for a day. Thanks for letting me know you were going, man.�
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“Fiji told me,” Manfred said. “It’s no big thing. Glad I could help. I guess these are pretty specialized tools?” Manfred only knew the basics about home repairs and tools, and he was trying to imagine how “special” a wrench could be.
“Some of them are special enough that I don’t know how often I’ll use them. The main thing is they’re very well made. So they’re pretty damn expensive,” Teacher said. “But my daddy always told me, don’t do to buy cheap tools.”
“Really? Huh.”
“Your daddy tell you the same thing?”
“I never met him, so he didn’t have the chance.” Manfred had had his whole life to get used to this state of affairs, but it was usually a shock to anyone else. Sure enough, Teacher turned and stared.
“That sounds pretty rough,” Teacher said, after an appreciable pause.
“I’m used to it. Where did you grow up?” Manfred asked, just to get the conversation across that abyss.
“Alabama,” said Teacher.
“Never been there,” Manfred said. “You meet Madonna there? Childhood sweethearts?”
Though Manfred was focused on the road before him, he got the impression that Teacher shot him a sharp look. “We’ve known each other a long time,” Teacher said.
A curiously nonspecific answer, Manfred thought, and not what he’d expected. “So you grew up in the same town.”
“Nearabouts.”
“Can everyone in her family cook as well as Madonna can?”
“She says her granny could, but the talent sure skipped her mom. We’ll have to see about Grady.”
“Today Home Cookin, tomorrow Top Chef,” Manfred said, smiling. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
“How about you, Manfred? Where’d you grow up?”
“Tennessee,” he said. “A town outside of Memphis.”
“Had a big houseful?”
Manfred laughed. “No, just me and my mom, or more often me and my grandmother,” he said. “You have lots of siblings?”
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