Breaking the Mould

by Victoria Hamilton

  “It’s a long story,” she said with a deep sigh. “A long ridiculous story of two men and a difference of opinion.”

  “Do you mean to say this goes back to the work they both did in economics?”

  “It does.” Erla explained that though Finn did not know Evan was his father at that point, he did consider him a father figure. “How could he not, growing up in his house, with Ben like a brother to him?” She took in a long shaky breath. “His actual brother,” she amended. “I’m so used to lying about it, it’s become a habit. But Finn’s work at the college, his master’s thesis, completely departed from Evan’s economic theory. I don’t understand much of it, though he’s tried to explain it to me, but it seems like the two used the same data and statistics to come to different conclusions.” The resulting argument had led to the break, apparently, and Evan was not the type to let it go. He was vindictive and decided to destroy Finn’s career before it even got started.

  “Even though he knew Finn was his son?” It was hard to imagine someone so spiteful. Maybe, if what she had learned was true, though, there was more behind it.

  She nodded. “He was in a foul mood. Said to me that he had two sons, neither one worth a damn.”

  Jaymie watched the woman’s expression, how the flush left her skin and her expression turned hard. “So when did Finn learn that Evan was his father?”

  “Evan told him at the party that night.”

  “Why? I mean, why did he tell him, and why then and there?”

  “I don’t know. Evan was . . . he . . .” She shook her head, tears welling again in her eyes, and shrugged helplessly.

  “He liked to control people,” Jaymie guessed.

  “That’s true, but that’s not why he told him then and there, not to control Finn. It was all about Ben. He was going to announce that he was Finn’s father just to upset Benjamin.”

  He had two sons, and he was using acknowledging one to hurt the other. What a prince. “Did you know what Evan was going to do?”

  “Of course not! I would never have let my son be used like that. Finn was intent on speaking with President Belcher at the party. He was barred from the campus, so he thought he could talk to the president here, one on one. But I knew it would irritate Evan for him to interfere with the party. I thought I could get Evan to use his influence to make the college reverse their action but I knew the party was not the time and place. I couldn’t tell Finn the real reason I wanted him to wait.”

  Jaymie cast her mind back to the party, and what she had been told about the aftermath, after she and Jakob left. “I heard that Finn came back and confronted Evan. That was when Evan told Finn he was his father, right?”

  The woman’s tears had dried, and she looked uneasy. “You’re not trying to pin this on my son, are you? The last thing he would do would be to . . . to hurt his father. I know my son. He would have had so many questions. He would have wanted to get to know Evan in a different way, as a father.”

  Would he? Jaymie wondered. Or would it infuriate him that Nezer had so callously gotten him canned from the master’s program even knowing Finn was his son?

  Bella slammed open the kitchen door and glared at Erla, then looked at Jaymie. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to—”

  “Never mind.” She turned back to the housekeeper. “Erla, you’re fired. I want you out of here by tomorrow.”

  “By tomorrow! Where am I going to go?”

  “Do I look like I care?” All pretense of a classy English accent was gone. “I won’t have a damned liar in my house. Go live with your son, or . . . oh, that’s right,” she said with a malicious snarl. “He doesn’t have a place to live either, does he, now that the shed is off-limits.” She retreated, but then came back and slammed open the door. “And you, you busybody,” she said, glaring at Jaymie. “You need to get out. Now. Erla doesn’t have time to talk. She has to pack.”

  Under the woman’s venomous glare, Jaymie nodded and left.

  Nineteen

  Home. Home was as welcome a thought as a warm blanket on a cold day. Jocie had dance practice, so Jaymie picked her up at school. As they pulled up the drive by the cabin, twilight was gathering, making every scene mysterious, tossing the upper branches of the trees across the road with a rustling that seemed secretive, whispery. They waved to Shannon, Johnny and Jakob, and entered to the madness of Hoppy and Lilibet, who dashed around barking and yowling their pleasure. Jaymie laughed as Jocie tossed her bookbag aside and raced around with the animals, her high-pitched squeals of laughter echoing into the upper reaches of the cozy cabin.

  And then peace, animals and child weary at last. Jocie had homework, a project she was working on. Jaymie turned on the light over the table so Jocie could work, and the lights over the kitchen sink so she could chop vegetables for crudités.

  As much as she loved autumn and winter, she liked that on December twenty-first she could always say, And now every day gets longer! Living where there were four distinct seasons was a blessing. Just when you got tired of winter, spring arrived with blossoms and warm winds that promised summer. When summer got too hot and humid for her taste, she looked forward to fall, cooler temperatures and pumpkin spice everything!

  Jocie’s project was about that very thing, the change in seasons, so Jaymie brought out her laptop and helped her research why their hemisphere had winter when it was winter, while in the southern hemisphere December ushered in beach weather! They talked about the tilt of the planets, and the earth’s orbit around the sun. It was surprising how much one forgot after years of being out of school.

  Once dinner was ready Jaymie pulled on a heavy cardigan that hung by the door and went out, watching as Shannon helped a family load a tree on the top of their car and tie it down, while Johnny and Jakob rearranged the cut trees for optimal viewing, all by the light of the floods that topped the electrical pole near the road. They had that day constructed a new feature, a kind of pergola structure from which they dangled various trees so customers could see them. That weekend would be the first of “cut your own,” which Jakob only allowed in daylight hours, but many folks preferred to just come and pick out a ready-cut tree.

  When the car pulled away, Jaymie cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Dinner, everyone! Dinner!” She needed one of those bells to clang, like you saw in old western movies to bring in the ranch hands. She smiled at the direction her life had taken, from townie to Christmas tree farmer’s wife.

  She had made a giant pot of chili and had defrosted and baked rolls to go with it, along with a tray of cut vegetables. Johnny was absurdly grateful for dinner; he thanked everyone multiple times. Before eating he ducked his head and said the serenity prayer. Jaymie teared up. ’Tis the season, she thought, when anything from a Hallmark card commercial to a friend’s festive wishes could reduce her to tears. But this was different than holiday sentimentality; Johnny’s struggle to maintain sobriety touched her deeply. She said a silent prayer, reminding herself to be careful about judging others, for she had once judged him unfairly, and it had taught her a lesson. She sent him a warm smile.

  At the end of the meal Shannon departed—she had an early exam the next morning—and Jakob took Jocie up for bath and bed. Johnny asked if he could help Jaymie with the dishes. She would normally have said no, but she was in a hurry to get going to girls’ night and she had a feeling he wanted to help. That somehow, he needed to help. He washed and she dried, since she knew where everything went and could put it all away.

  “You use nice dish detergent,” he said, mounding bubbles in his big rough hand. He blew on the mound, sending a cascade of foam fluttering into the air. He glanced over at her, maybe anticipating censure, then smiled. “It smells nice. The stuff they use at the church dinners smells like a hospital.”

  “Do you go to church every week?”

  “No, just for the dinners. That’s where our meetings are,” he said, referring to his and Cynthia’s weekly sobriety meetings.
“I like going to the dinners because I see friends there. Last week that fellow Pastor Inkerman came and talked about stuff before dinner. It was interesting.”

  “I’ve met him. What did he talk about?”

  “He talked about how some folks go to church but don’t follow the scriptures the rest of the week, and how some other folks don’t even know they’re following the scriptures, ’cause they’re just being kind and helpful.”

  “Interesting. Did he stay for the dinner?”

  Johnny nodded as he handed her a bowl. “But not after. He met a woman in the parking lot. She was waiting for him outside the church.”

  “Maybe he’s got a girlfriend?”

  “It wasn’t a girlfriend. She’s a lot older than him. I mean, not that she couldn’t . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.

  “I know he has his own car,” Jaymie said with a frown. “Did the woman drive him away?”

  “Nope. They sat in the car. Me and Amos stood outside for a while having a smoke and a coffee. We were gonna go back in and help clean up. The pastor appreciates it because a lot of the older folks can’t move the heavy tables and such.”

  “So they just sat in her car?”

  He nodded. Jaymie wiped the bowl and put it away, then took the next. They were establishing a rhythm. She got the chili pot from the stove and put it in the sink as Johnny lifted his soapy hands.

  “I couldn’t figure out why Erla would be sitting talking to the pastor. It was weird.”

  Jaymie jolted and splashed some of the dishwater, dropping the pot. Johnny sometimes left things out when he told a story, and that part hadn’t been clear before. “You mean it was Erla sitting in the car with Pastor Inkerman? When was this?”

  “Uh . . . a week ago. Tuesday evening, I think. Yeah, Tuesday night is the church spaghetti dinner.” He scrubbed the pot then looked up at the clock. “I gotta get going. I’m picking up Cynthia for tonight’s meeting.”

  Though Erla’s name kept coming up in relation to things, nothing tied together . . . nothing made sense. “Johnny, you’re sure it was Erla Fancombe?”

  “Yeah. I fixed her car for her once; it’s an old Subaru with too many miles on it. But she sure keeps it clean. And Amos knows what she looks like, right?”

  “Of course. What happened after? Did they drive away?”

  “Nope. He gave her something, like . . . an envelope.”

  “You could see that inside her car?”

  “She put the dome light on, you know, to look at the envelope, I guess. Then he got out and went to his own car, a real nice one with a vanity plate.” He finished scrubbing and lifted the pot out of the water, which was now grimy and oily. He emptied the sink, carefully rinsed the chili pot in hot water, then handed it to her.

  She wiped it dry and put it away on the pot rack over the table. “And that was it?”

  “Yup. She drove away too.”

  Odd. A meeting before the party, and even before the cider booth fire.

  And Erla, according to Amos, was the one who set the fire. He had seen her gray hair and the coat she always wore. Jaymie hadn’t been able to figure out why. She had assumed the woman was doing it perhaps at Evan’s command. But now she wondered . . . had she eliminated Erla from suspicion of killing Evan too fast? And maybe the pastor had a hand in it, even before he supposedly found out that Evan Nezer was his harsh and hurtful critic.

  • • •

  She kissed Jakob goodbye and headed out, her mind working on the problems and questions she still had. Erla the arsonist; it seemed odd. Why would she do that? But Amos had recognized her by her clothes and gray hair. The why of it nagged more than anything. She wished she had been able to ask Amos questions about it, because something seemed off.

  She took back roads and approached Wolverhampton from another direction, easily finding Austin’s mom’s tidy split ranch on a well-treed suburban street. He hustled out, clutching his trench coat around him and slipping on the icy lane. He hopped in, his round face holding an eager expression. He wore glasses, and she gazed at him in surprise. “What’s with the specs?”

  “I guess you didn’t know I wear contacts most of the time. But one of my eyes is watering lately—allergies or something like that,” he said, squinting and pointing to one pink and watery eye. “So I’m wearing my glasses tonight. Don’t look!” he said, rearing back and holding his hands up over his face. “Now I feel self-conscious in them.”

  “Stop it!” Jaymie laughed and pulled away from the curb as her passenger buckled up. “My sister and best friend both wear glasses, so you won’t be the only one. When I was a kid I longed to wear glasses. I thought it made you special, maybe because my big sister wore them.”

  She turned on the satellite radio, tuned to the all-Christmas music channel, and they sang along to “Jingle Bell Rock,” Austin showing vocal talent she never would have suspected. “You’re good!” she said, glancing over at him in surprise.

  “Karaoke Calhoun, they call me,” he replied.

  “You have to come next time we have a karaoke party at Bernie’s house.”

  She drove to the lane behind the Queensville house. Heidi had picked up Bernie, and Val had walked over with Georgina, who was invited for the first time, so there was just Becca and Heidi’s cars to maneuver around in the cramped parking lane. As she pulled into the only available spot she told him of her childhood, growing up in the home with her mom, dad, sister, and her Grandma Leighton. She turned off the engine, and they stared at the back of the house, the long summer porch with its dressing of winter storm windows over the screens.

  They could see the lights on in the kitchen, giving the Queen Anne home a warm and glowing appearance, like a Thomas Kinkade painting. “That’s where I got my love of cooking, from my grandmother,” she said, her voice hushed in the silent SUV. “My mom isn’t much of a cook and my sister is barely adequate in the kitchen.” The air was crisp and the sky black as they climbed out. Jaymie led the way through the gate and up the flagstone walk, letting herself in through the back door.

  They followed the sound of laughter to the front parlor, where it was clear the party had already started. Heidi, Bernie, Becca, Valetta and Georgina were into the holiday spirits; there was a bottle of red and one of white already open, and a couple of martini glasses full of a dark pinkish cocktail. She introduced Austin around, though Valetta needed no introduction and warmly hugged Austin.

  “Cocktails!” Becca exclaimed as she fixed one for the two latest to join them. She was already “happy,” her round cheeks glowing with bonhomie and Christmas cocktails. Georgina downed hers and asked for another. She sat in a corner of the sofa smiling at them all, swiftly getting, as she called it, potted. She had many more words and phrases for her state: squiffy, legless, sloshed, sozzled, and Jaymie’s favorite, drunk as a lord.

  Jaymie watched her, worried about her alcohol consumption after what she and Valetta had figured out. Then it hit her; it was exactly zero percent of her business, and if Georgina hadn’t earned the right to live her own way at sixty-something, then who had?

  Inevitably, they all talked about the murder, the Nezers, the Nezer party and everything else, though Bernie stayed mum through it all. Popular opinion was that Bella had finally gotten fed up with her husband and did him in.

  “Come on,” Jayme demurred. “If that’s so, how did she get him out to the diorama? I mean, she’s a sturdy girl, but I’m strong and I couldn’t haul a body that far.” She didn’t share what she had heard, about the handcart or wheelbarrow.

  Bernie was listening and smiling and sipping, eyes wide.

  “She supposedly claims she didn’t hear a thing. Didn’t she even notice her husband was gone in the middle of the night?” Valetta said with a snort.

  “But they didn’t sleep together,” Heidi said. “Oops,” she added, and eyed Bernie with trepidation. Bernie shrugged.

  “How do you know?” Jaymie asked.

  Heidi giggled woozily and hiccup
ped. “Where do you think I was the night of the party? I was snooping upstairs! She has a nice room, and the most heavenly fur coats, all smelling of Givenchy.” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, ugh! I hope they were faux furs.”

  “With that woman? I’m sure they were genuine furs and she probably skinned the animals herself,” Valetta said with a sarcastic edge. She wasn’t a fan of Bella Nezer.

  “So they don’t share a room,” Jaymie said. “But maybe they do sleep together.”

  “Oh, no, they don’t. She has all her stuff in her side table, you know . . . book she’s reading, night cream . . . stuff. And him too . . . he’s got a book on his bedside table and his laptop charger plugged in, all that stuff.”

  “Well, that would explain her not hearing him leave that night,” Jaymie said. “But why did he leave his room? Maybe he heard something.”

  “Maybe he had a lover,” Becca said. “Could have snuck out to meet her.”

  “In his nightshirt? Or . . .” Jaymie thought, maybe he went outside to meet his newly discovered son, for some reason, and they got in a fight and Finn bashed him. It was possible. She chose not to speculate on that. “I don’t know why we’re thinking that having her own room means Bella didn’t do it.”

  “No one said that,” Valetta commented. “We said it would explain why she didn’t hear him leaving, if he snuck out without her knowing.”

  “Yeah, I guess. So many possibilities. Let’s talk about something else,” she said, afraid she’d say too much if they kept talking. “Something more cheerful.”

  Work and Christmas and parties were discussed. Austin, who had been silent through that conversation, was a little reserved at first with a group of new people, but he was soon in the thick of it, telling tales of his first semester at WC. The hospitality course, he said, had all the most amusing people, and they relentlessly poked fun at the serious folks in economics and other “uppity” courses at the Perry College branch of WC.