by Dale Mayer
“And then what happened?”
She shrugged. “A couple weeks passed. I’d been sick,” she said by way of explanation. “Later I called her but got no answer. And I called again and again and again. Her phone just keeps ringing.”
“Did you go see her?”
“No. I don’t have a car. She lives on Mable Lake. Her property borders the lake. It’s acreage that she’s had several offers on because it’s so picturesque,” the woman said. “But she’s never wanted to sell. She plans on staying there until she is old and gray.”
“Anybody in particular trying to buy the place?”
The young woman shrugged. “I don’t really know names. She got a big offer in the million-dollar range which I wanted her to take. That was the reason behind our fight. My mother is broke. It’s all she can do to pay the taxes every year. She needs better food. She can’t look after the property the way it needs to be looked after.”
“Does she work? Has she missed any work?”
“She used to work but doesn’t now. She’s an artist and was doing really well for herself, and then her fingers crippled up, and she found it much harder to create the same quality of paintings she used to. But, being an artist, she didn’t have a backup plan for getting old. I always assumed selling the property was her backup plan, but she has refused to do so.”
“I imagine it can be hard when you’ve already lost your creativity and your way of making a living,” Kirk said gently. “Then to give up the one last thing you’d always counted on that brings you comfort, which is your home.”
Lee-Anne looked at him with understanding dawning in the back of her eyes; then she burst into tears.
Kirk sighed and settled back. He reached for something on the counter behind him and pushed a pack of Kleenex toward her. “Here. Use this.”
Sobbing quietly, she pulled out several tissues and basically covered her face with them.
“Do you have a picture of your mother?”
Sniffling and wiping her eyes, she nodded. Then she pulled her purse into her lap and dug through it. Various items ended up atop the table.
He was amazed to see hairbrushes and wallets and makeup packs. He wasn’t even sure what one thing was and wasn’t going to ask. But why did women have to carry so much stuff with them? He never understood. Queenie was the opposite. She was a minimalist by nature. She carried cash or a debit card and her keys, and that was it. But, in this instance, this woman appeared to have everything but the kitchen sink.
Finally Lee-Anne pulled out a small envelope and removed several photos from it. She laid them on the table and turned them around so he could see. “This is my mother, taken years ago.”
The woman was in her late twenties with blond hair about shoulder length. She had a big smile on her face, as if everything in her world was right at that moment. He understood that a snapshot was just that. It was a second of a person’s life, hopefully at a good time in their life.
He studied several of them and asked, “What about friends? Other family? Have you contacted anyone?”
“There was just her and me.” Tears clogged her throat. “That’s why I feel so bad. If something happened to her while I was so busy being in a snit, I don’t know what I’ll do,” she wailed.
“Well, I wouldn’t start thinking along that line. If you haven’t checked at her home, I can call the police or the local sheriff in the area and get them to take a drive up.”
She nodded. “Please. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t have answered her phone.”
“Did you ever think maybe she can’t afford her phone anymore?” he asked.
Shock and shame filled her gaze. She stared down at the photos. “I hope it is that.” Her voice was a little stronger, a little more robust. “Because then I’ll start sending her money every month.”
“Can you afford to?”
Lee-Anne shrugged. “I’m a graphic designer, so maybe not.” She focused on the pictures once more. “Please find her.”
He nodded. “Do you have an address? Where is this property located?”
She scribbled down what she knew and the directions to get there. “She has a post office box in the nearby small town. I’ve contacted them, and they said she hasn’t come in to pick up her mail.”
“Well, that’s something,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not really. My mother rarely gets her mail, so she wasn’t in the habit of checking in very often.”
He nodded. “How long a drive is it?”
“Over an hour,” she confessed. “But, as I said, I don’t have a car.”
“So how do you get back and forth to see her?”
“Normally my mother would come see me. Just not very often.”
“But …”
“She doesn’t have any money to make the trip. She hasn’t been down in over a year. That’s how long since I’ve seen her.”
Kirk sat back and stared at the young woman. They both sounded like they wanted to be together but couldn’t find a way to make that happen. “Look. We’ll see if somebody can drive out there and take a look. Are you sure you don’t know who wanted to buy the property from her?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know who. She just said she didn’t like him. He was arrogant and mean, and she didn’t want him to have anything to do with her beautiful place.”
“Is it beautiful?” he asked, wondering about the daughter’s own mind-set of the home.
Lee-Anne nodded and smiled. “It really is. It’s got a beautiful view of the lake, and I can see that the sprawl of Seattle will catch up there eventually. But, right now, it’s more of a holiday home for others than for her.”
“What vehicle does she drive?”
“A small Nissan pickup,” she said. “About twelve years old.”
“We can run the plates and see if she’s got it insured. With any luck we can also see if it’s at the property. For all you know, she may have gone on a holiday somewhere.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. She didn’t have money for anything.” She stood, grabbing her items, putting them back in her purse. “Can you make copies of those pictures? I don’t want to let the originals go.”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
*
He didn’t like it here. Except for the spiders. They were his friends. His mommy screamed when she saw them, so he had to keep them out of sight. His daddy squished them.
That wasn’t nice.
But Daddy was mean. He hit Mommy and him too. He’d asked the spiders over and over again to stop Daddy, but they couldn’t.
The shouting increased overhead. He slapped his hands to his ears to block out the sound, but he still heard Mommy crying.
“That damn kid. I told you not to bring him home. What kind of a loser woman are you that you have to look after someone else’s kid instead of having your own?”
The little boy listened to the words, but they weren’t making sense.
Mommy never answered. Her weeping didn’t stop.
Slap. Smack. Thud.
He scrunched up his face and cried. He knew what that meant. He lay down and pulled the covers over his head, his body freezing in fear.
If Daddy came downstairs, then it was bad, … real bad.
But, if Mommy wasn’t his mommy, who was? And could his mommy come and take him away? … He didn’t want to live here anymore.
Then he heard it. … Footsteps.
His breath hitched in the back of his throat, and, terrorized, he waited alone in the dark.
Chapter 3
Sunday, Midmorning …
In her tent once again, Queenie searched for the spider. Found no sign of him. She placed her Open for Business sign outside, sat down at her table and waited for the customers to flow in. Business was slow today. Probably her punishment for having walked away when there was a line yesterday. She had needed the money too. These last few months had been slow and had barely paid enough to keep her going.
When Carlos walked in a half hour later, his face set as if determined to have something out with her, she smiled at him and said, “Thanks so much for letting me go home sick yesterday.”
He froze, and the smile fell off his face. “You were sick?” he asked cautiously.
She nodded. “All of a sudden, I felt like I would throw up. I didn’t think having those kinds of germs around this place would be very good for business. Not to mention the fact that vomiting isn’t an activity the public wants to see.” She spoke with an airy laugh. “But I’m feeling much better now.”
He took a cautious step back as if she had germs that would reach out and smack him one. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? We don’t want anybody here at the amusement park getting sick.”
“I wouldn’t have had breakfast with Betty just now if I thought that was the case,” she said gently.
“Okay. But you should have given me some warning. There was a line,” he whined. “And when we have a line like that, you know how much money we’re gonna make.”
She did know. She was the one who put the five-dollar bills into the jar. Sometimes she could easily do twenty customers in an hour. Maybe it wasn’t big money for a lot of people, but it was for her. Not that she got a whole lot of it. But all business was erratic. There was no rhyme or reason when there would be a good day or a bad day. If her crystal ball could tell her things like that, then she could manage her days off so they were most effective. But her abilities didn’t work that way.
As far as Carlos was concerned, she didn’t have any abilities. He was all about making it look like she did. The fact that she knew that just made it easier on her. He was also a germophobe, and that gave her irrefutable reasons for leaving the tent unexpectedly.
“I will next time, if I can.” She nodded. “Honestly, yesterday was so bad that I wasn’t sure I should stick around at all.”
Just then they could hear voices approaching from outside. His face lit up. “Hopefully it’ll be a good day today. You know? As we lead up toward graduation, we get a lot more people in here.”
“You mean, as the summer holidays come through,” she said with a laugh. “I’m not sure graduation has anything to do with it.”
“We’re running a bunch of ads geared toward the grads,” he said with a big smirk. “Offering them your abilities to determine what they should be doing in life.”
She stared at him. “You did what?”
He waved his hand airily at her. “That’s perfect for you. You do such a great job with that already.”
She shook her head. “I do for the people who seek me out naturally. I am not at all sure how that’ll work when they come in droves.”
“What’s the difference?” he asked.
He seriously did not understand how that strained her energy levels or how seeing difficult information hurt her on so many levels. But there was really no working with him. He had a mind of his own, and the bottom line for him was money.
He quickly backed away as the first person walked through the tent.
A young girl stood there and smiled. “Is it my turn?” she asked.
Carlos motioned toward Queenie. “She’s all yours. Make sure you ask one good question,” he cautioned, “because she really does have the answers.” And then he disappeared.
The girl looked even more excited than ever, if that was possible. She raced up to Queenie and jabbered about all the colleges she’d applied to, wanting Queenie to tell her which one she would get accepted to because she wanted to make plans. She was really hoping to move to that location soon, so she could spend the summer getting to know everyone. All her friends had heard already, so she figured the mail was just late, but her tone of voice rose up—almost in a panic.
Queenie stared at her, resignation deep in her heart. She was afraid to touch this girl’s hand because she could already feel the energy coming toward her. And how did she let the girl down easy? How did she let her know all the applications she’d sent so far were rejected?
“Have you applied to every one you wanted?” Queenie hedged.
“Well, there’s still the local one,” she said, “but I didn’t want to stay in town for the summer.”
“Why is that?” Queenie asked, looking for anything to give her a positive outcome. The local college would be a positive outcome. But the girl had to come to that on her own; otherwise it’d be a crushing disappointment.
“My boyfriend broke up with me,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. She shoved her fist into her pockets. “But can’t you see that?”
“I can see a lot,” Queenie said cautiously. “Place your hand in mine, please.” She held her hand out, palm upward. The young girl laid her palm down on top of Queenie’s. An instant affirmation slammed into her. “I see you staying locally,” she said quietly. “And, no, I don’t see the same boyfriend back in your life.”
The young girl jumped back, pulling her hand away. She glared at Queenie. “That’s not what I want to hear,” she cried.
“I know that,” Queenie said. “Yet it doesn’t change the fact that’s what I see.”
The young woman gave her a hurt look and raced out of the tent.
At least she wasn’t sobbing. Queenie would take solace where she could.
Almost immediately a young man walked in, about the same age as the woman who just left. He smiled and said, “I don’t think you told her what she wanted to hear.”
She looked at him. “I can’t deliver good news when it’s not.”
His smile fell away. “People say you’re the real thing,” he said abruptly.
She shrugged. “I’d like to think so. I don’t deliberately mislead people. That was the problem with the girl who just left. She didn’t like the answers.”
He cast a backward glance, as if seeing the girl. “She’s a year behind me. I graduated a year ago and remember how she was pretty hung up on her boyfriend back then.”
Queenie could see the energy flowing from him toward the young woman who had run out before him. “Maybe you should talk to her,” she said with a gentle smile. “I can tell you right now that’s probably a very good match.”
Startled, he glanced at Queenie. “That’s not what I came here for.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes you get a little more than you asked for.”
He hesitated, almost shifting his weight from foot to foot, as if uncertain what to say.
She looked at him. “Place your hand in mine.”
He laid a hand atop hers. She could feel the pain and the frustration. Another face showed up in her crystal ball. Truly it was in her mind’s eye, but, for the sake of what she was doing, she always said it was the crystal ball.
“You’re worried about your brother.” She felt his start. But she clasped her hands around his, holding them in place. “He’s a drug addict. He’s taken too many chances.”
The young man froze in front of her, hope and fear worrying on his face.
She sighed and gently released his hand. “He has a tough road ahead of him,” she said quietly. “He does have the stuff inside him to make that journey. But he’ll need your support.”
She wasn’t sure anything she’d said was helpful, but the young man’s face lit up.
“Does that mean he’s done overdosing?”
“You need to get him into rehab,” she said. Instantly a name came to her. She pulled out a pad of paper and wrote it down. “Riverdale. Get him into Riverdale. If you can get him there, he’ll do much better.” She ripped off the piece of paper and handed it to him.
He looked down at it and said, “How am I supposed to pay for it?”
“Talk to them about their charity programs.” She smiled as the answers flowed. “They do help a certain number of cases for free. Most of these places do, but they don’t tell you about it.”
He stared at her in surprise. “They do?”
She nodded. “But, like I said, they don’t want anybody to know. Riverdale. You
contact Riverdale on his behalf and get your brother down there for an assessment.”
He took a step back. “I didn’t tell you about anything like this.”
“I know.” She stared at him, her gaze steady and strong.
He took another hesitant step back, his mind obviously overwhelmed with the what ifs. And then he turned and bolted out the door.
She smiled until she realized she’d forgotten to ask him for the five dollars. She groaned. “Well, that’s your free one for the day,” she muttered. She didn’t blame the kid. He’d been a little too affected by what was going on to remember.
At the same time, she couldn’t keep doing that. She had to put food on her table somehow.
The morning continued on with more odd requests, odd people. Some days it was just girl after girl, looking for boyfriend information; other times mothers looking for information about their children and whether they could have another baby. Today it was everything.
There was a young man afraid to buy a house because the market was so unstable. Privately she thought the market had never been more stable, but she wasn’t a financial analyst, so what did she know? It was more a case of he was afraid his girlfriend wouldn’t move in with him because she wouldn’t like the house.
A woman wanted Queenie’s advice on a weight-loss-and-training program. That one really surprised Queenie. She tried to explain to the woman that the program wasn’t necessarily the best option, given the money involved. But she hadn’t been interested in Queenie’s answer. She was looking for validation of her own choice. There was only so much Queenie could say.
By the time she was ready to take a break, she quickly flipped the Open sign to Closed and headed to the coffee stand. There was one thing she did like, and that was her caffeine. She’d been told by enough people that she should stop drinking it, but it was one of the few comforts in her world. And she wasn’t up to letting that go too.
Time to get food, right, Reese?
He didn’t answer, but a light laugh filled her mind.
She chuckled.
She grabbed a coffee and a hot dog, and headed back to her tent. She stepped inside to see a man with his back toward her. Her voice sharp, she said, “The sign says I’m closed.”