Stay At Home Dad 03-Father Knows Death

by Jeffrey Allen

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You better just make sure this in no way impacts the birth of your second child. Because if it does, you’ll then be needing to ask Mama Biggs for a new place to live.”

  I reached for the hand that wasn’t covered in ice cream. “Nothing will impact that.”

  “Oh, don’t try to be all sweet and romantic with me,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You aren’t carrying a small beast in your stomach.”

  “I know. You are. Thank you.”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever,” she said, finishing off the last bits of cone. She wadded up the napkin and tossed it at me.

  I caught it in midair. “Can we talk about names?” I asked.

  She stared at me, her eyes narrowed. “Yes. After the baby is born, I will tell you what his or her name is.”

  “That’s not how it’s supposed to work, Jules.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh, really? So you’re telling me that after forty-two weeks of nausea, heartburn, indigestion, and cramping—and not to mention stretch marks and saggy boobs that will never go away—I have to share naming the baby with you?”

  Put that way, I wasn’t sure I had any ground to stand on.

  She nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. By the way, we’re having sex tonight.”

  “That’s quite the seduction.”

  “I don’t have time for seduction,” she said. “I need this kid out of my stomach. The kid that I will name. Pronto. Having sex with you is one way to make that happen.”

  I smirked. “Isn’t that how we got here in the first place?”

  “Shut up and come help me get up.”

  I helped her get herself turned around and into a standing position. She wobbled for a moment, her hands perched on her sides as she got her bearings.

  “So, I know you’re going to that meeting tonight, but you will be home in time to have relations with me this evening,” she said. “That is an order.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Everything I’ve read says that’s one way to pop an overdue kid out.”

  “So is induction,” I reminded her.

  She shook her head. “Seriously, Deuce. It’s like you don’t even know me. I am not being induced. I am having this baby naturally. Even if it kills me. Even if I have to have sex with you when I’m eleventy weeks pregnant.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Then I’ll blame you.”

  13

  My father grinned at me in a way that I knew meant he was about to have fun at my expense. “Heard you’ve been making friends with Mama Biggs.”

  Julianne and my mom were walking Carly through one of the animal barns and he and I were sitting on a bench, watching the throngs of people stroll up and down the fairgrounds. A lot of them were complaining about the 4-H stand not having any food, while stuffing their faces with sugary confections and greasy fried concoctions.

  “I’m not sure you’d call it friends,” I said.

  “No one’s friends with that old codger,” he said. “I’m surprised it wasn’t her body you found in the freezer.”

  I ignored his sarcasm. “I think everyone’s too afraid of her to do anything to her.”

  My dad nodded. “Probably so. She usually has everyone on their heels. Glad you put her in her place.”

  “Not sure anyone can really put her in her place.”

  “Just not taking her crap in public was a good start,” he said, still nodding. “I would’ve kicked your butt if you’d let her knock you around.”

  “Not sure you can get your leg up that high anymore.”

  “For your butt, I’d limber up.”

  I chuckled because I knew he probably would. “What’s her deal anyway? She knows you.”

  “Oh, she knows everybody,” my dad said.

  “And everybody knows her, in the same way that everyone knows the town bully. They know her enough to stay away from her.”

  “How do you know her?”

  He yawned and crossed his legs. “Good Lord, I don’t even remember how I met her. Had to have been at the bank, years ago.”

  “Yeah. She immediately identified you as having worked at the bank.”

  He shrugged. “That will always be my identity in Rose Petal.”

  That was true. He’d worked at the bank for most of his adult life, managing for almost thirty years before he retired. In a small town like Rose Petal, the bank was as much of a community hub as any other spot in town. He’d signed off on loans and mortgages for nearly everyone in Rose Petal. He’d opened accounts for nearly everyone born in Rose Petal. And anyone that needed a break financially? Well, he’d found a way to help them out, too. My dad didn’t just live in Rose Petal. For a lot of people, he was Rose Petal.

  “Can’t recall what for, but I’m sure the first time I met her was there,” he said. “Don’t know why I would’ve had any other reason to associate with her.” He waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, she was always in and out, whining and complaining about how we handled her money. Most of it was nonsense and it got so that the tellers would run for the back when they saw her coming because they were so sick of her antics.”

  “Who dealt with her then?”

  “Most of the time, it ended up being me,” he said. “Anybody that was a known problem, I’d usually handle them. I didn’t like putting my people in those situations. And she was a chronic pain in the rear.”

  Before I could ask my next question, Susan Blamunski sauntered up to us, a smile nearly as big as her hair spread across her face.

  “Well, well,” she said. “If it isn’t two of Rose Petal’s finest gentlemen. How are we today?”

  “We are just fine, Susan,” my father said.

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Excellent,” she said. “And have we learned any more about what happened with George?”

  “No, we have not,” I said, wondering why we were using we all of a sudden.

  “I heard you and your little partner were investigating,” she said. “Certainly you know something by now.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss, Susan.”

  “I heard you and Mama had a bit of a showdown earlier,” she said.

  “You have tremendous hearing,” my father said, chuckling.

  Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t know anything, Susan,” I said. “There’s nothing to report to anyone.”

  “Hmm,” she said, clearly unsatisfied with my answers. “Well, 4-H is certainly taking a beating with all of this. I’m trying to get an answer now as to whether or not we’ll have a working freezer anytime soon.”

  “You’d probably best get that answer near the food stand, then,” my father said, still smiling.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, a thin smile on her brightly colored lips. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”

  She strode off in the same direction from which she’d arrived.

  “That woman is nothing but a mouthful of gossip dressed up in poor makeup,” my father observed.

  “Back to Mama Biggs,” I said. “At the bank. What did she used to complain about?”

  “Anything and everything,” he said, frowning. “She always had cash deposits and she was always afraid we were going to miscount it or something.”

  “Lots of cash?”

  He thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, a fair amount. No pun intended.”

  I watched a couple with twins in a stroller walk by, looking at the map, wondering where to go first. I wondered if Mama Biggs’s cash deposits were a coincidence or if maybe she really had been stealing from the fair for years.

  “What do you know that you’re not telling me?” my father asked.

  “Nothing, really.”

  “Baloney.”

  “I’m hearing things about her. And about the rest of the board, for that matter. Just makes me wonder.”

  My dad folded his arms across his
chest. “Son, people have been saying it for years.”

  “Saying what?”

  “That Mama pockets more than her fair share of the fair revenue,” he said with a wink. “That is not some new story.”

  “You think it’s true?”

  He sort of shrugged, and pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Probably. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and all of that.”

  “Why hasn’t anyone ever looked into it?”

  “Like who?” he asked, chuckling. “The entire board is made up of her family and her cronies. And, truth be told, the revenue generated by the fair isn’t huge, so I’m not sure anyone ever had a reason to stick their nose into it.”

  I glanced around. The fair drew people from not only Rose Petal but the surrounding towns, as well. It was busy for the entire week. It was an institution, so I had a hard time believing it didn’t bring in a good amount of money. I understood what my father was saying, but I didn’t think it made it any less wrong. If Mama Biggs or anyone else in her family was taking money from the fair, it was time to stop it.

  “What’s the board selection process?” I asked.

  My dad stretched his arms and stood. “Honestly, I don’t know. She and her family have run it for so long, I don’t think anyone’s thought about that for a while.” He made a face and raised an eyebrow at me. “And before you start poking around, know this. Running the fair isn’t exactly an easy thing to do and no one’s been clamoring for that job. Everyone has been pretty happy letting her run it. She may be a huge pain in the rear, but she’s also done a pretty good job of pulling this thing off every year for as long as I can remember.”

  It was a good point. She may have been secretive and brash and not terribly likable, but her way seemed to have worked. Year after year, people kept coming back to the fair. People had fun. They enjoyed themselves. So while she wasn’t going to win any popularity contests, she seemed to know how to organize and run a county fair.

  But I was still curious.

  “So before you blow up that meeting this evening, keep that in mind,” my father said, cracking a smile. “You could end up driving a golf cart next year.”

  14

  I grilled ribs for dinner and did the dishes in record time.

  “Scoot,” I said to Carly as I dried and put away the last of the plates.

  She hovered at the table, licking her barbecue-stained fingers.

  “Time for a bath.”

  She continued licking. “I’m giving myself a bath. Like a cat.”

  “I’m going to give you a bath,” I told her. “Like a human.”

  She giggled and followed me up the stairs.

  I started the water and dumped a capful of liquid soap into the tub as she stripped out of her clothes and dug around for her basket of bath toys.

  “This guy is my favorite,” she said, holding up a rubber duck wearing a cowboy hat.

  Her favorite changed daily, it seemed. I lathered her hair with special kids’ shampoo. “Yeah? Why is that?”

  “I don’t know.” She plunged it under the water and squeezed.

  “Look up,” I said. She did and I poured a cup of water over her hair, shielding her eyes with one of my hands.

  I loved giving her baths. I loved taking care of her. There was nothing I’d rather do than be a dad and once again, I was grateful I had the opportunity to do that. To stay home and take care of my kids.

  “Daddy?”

  I rinsed her hair again. “What?”

  “When will the baby be here?”

  That night, if her mother had any say in the matter. But I didn’t know for sure if it would work, so I told her, “Soon.” It was the most accurate estimate I had right then.

  “Are you happy about the baby?”

  I set the cup down. “Of course I’m happy about it.”

  “Oh.”

  I looked at Carly. Her head was down, her eyes focused on the duck in her hands.

  “Are you happy about it?” I asked. “About being a big sister soon?”

  She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I guess. I think so.”

  I repositioned myself in front of the tub, shifting my weight from one knee to the other. “Tell me.”

  She took a deep breath. “Well, it’s just that everyone’s so excited. About the baby. That’s all Mommy and you talk about. Grandma and Grandpa are always buying toys and clothes and stuff. For the baby.”

  My heart broke a little for my daughter. I knew it took a lot of courage to say these things, to talk about how she was feeling. And I also knew that she had absolutely nothing to worry about. I could have a dozen kids and still love all of them differently but the same. Every parent knew it.

  But my daughter didn’t.

  I rinsed her off with a couple more cups full of water, grabbed the towel off the hook, and rubbed at her hair. On cue, Carly reached out and lifted the plug on the drain.

  “I’m happy about it,” I said. “Just as happy as I was the day you were born.”

  She looked at me. “Yeah? You were happy the day I was born?”

  I smiled at her and lifted her dripping body from the tub. “Happiest day of my life. You were the best gift I ever got. You were the best baby in the entire world.”

  “I was?”

  I toweled her off. “Yep. And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “You’re gonna be the best big sister in the entire world, too. I just know it.”

  She nodded and smiled at me. “Okay, Daddy. I will be.”

  I hugged her and got her in her pajamas and handed her off to Julianne before heading out the door. And I made it to the fair board meeting with five minutes to spare.

  The meeting was being held in one of the community rooms at the Rose Petal Library and I was surprised to see that most of the seats were already taken when I walked in. I’d gotten the impression that no one really cared about the board or their monthly meetings, so I wasn’t expecting a crowd. But maybe George Spellman’s death had stirred some interest.

  I found a seat in the back row and Victor arrived a minute later, sliding into the seat next to me.

  “Why the hell are there so many people here?” he asked, scowling. “Why aren’t they over at the fair?”

  “Got me. I thought it would be empty.”

  “I talked to the old lady,” he said. “We’re set with a retainer.”

  “That was quick.”

  He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Apparently, you made an impression on her this morning”

  “I’m awesome.”

  “Whatever,” he said. “And I already made some calls. There was definitely something going on with the daughter and the dead guy.”

  “Like?”

  “Like I don’t know yet,” he said. “But my initial feeling is something was afoot.”

  “Afoot?”

  “It’s a detective word. You should use more of them. People might take you seriously then.”

  “I like it better when people think I’m your father,” I said.

  His scowl deepened, but he kept his mouth shut as the members of the fair board proceeded into the room. They sat at a long table at the front of the room and, except for Mama, they all looked a bit nervous. Mama sat at the far end, plunked down a stack of papers, and took stock of the crowded room.

  “Well, seems like we’re a little more popular than usual tonight,” she said with a grin that seemed more menacing than mirthful. “We’ll try not to keep you here all night.”

  A nervous chuckle drifted above the heads of the crowd.

  She ran through some procedural things—approving minutes from the last meeting, simple committee reports, and attendance. It all seemed very by the book and there was nothing goofy or out of line in what they were doing. It looked just like any other meeting I’d ever been to.

  “Now, we will hear from our treasurer,” Mama said, and something close to irritation filtered into her expression.

  Wendy Norvol
d shuffled some papers and cleared her throat. “As always, our financial report is fluid, due to the fact that the fair is currently in progress.” She ran off a few numbers tied to surplus and expenditures. She glanced nervously at Mama. “We’ll know more about what the town has earned at the conclusion of the fair, like always.”

  A hand in the audience went up near the front of the room. The board members looked at each other, unsure how to address this.

  “You have a question?” Mama asked, clearly not happy with the interruption.

  “Just curious about what the fair earned last year,” a male voice said. “My daughter is doing a project for school on fairs and we had no idea how much money fairs make when they’re open.”

  Mama kept her eyes on the questioner while the rest of the board members stared at their papers or their hands.

  “We did just fine,” Mama said. “Just fine.”

  “Oh, sure, of course,” the man said. “But can you give us an idea of what the fair actually took in versus what it costs to put it on?”

  “I just said we did fine,” Mama said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you not hear me?”

  “Uh, well, yeah,” the man said, confused, maybe a little embarrassed. “We were just hoping to get some specific numbers, because I thought it was public information. My daughter . . .”

  “Wendy!” Mama snapped. “You got the numbers?”

  Wendy mumbled as she shuffled through her paperwork. “Uh, I’m not sure I have last year’s financials with me this evening.”

  “How about your little girl just puts down that we took in a whole bunch?” Mama asked.

  The crowd laughed nervously.

  “Well, her teacher would really like specific numbers. . . .”

  “Look, buddy,” Mama said, pointing a finger at him. “Wendy just told you we don’t have the numbers with us tonight. If you need your little numbers, perhaps you could leave a phone number and e-mail with her and she’ll get back to you. That’s all we can do and you’ll just have to deal with that.”

  “Oh, uh, okay, sure,” the guy said, sounding confused and a little sheepish.

  “And do it after the meeting,” Mama said, shaking her head. “We don’t need to waste any more time tonight, because I’ve got a fair to run.”