Shari made a disgusted face, but plowed ahead. “Yours too,” she lied. “Actually, Kip, I was wondering if you could help me locate someone.”
An hour later, Kip called back to tell Shari that he had hit pay-dirt; adding that since this was business, he would have to bill Shari for his time. Shari had expected as much. She thanked Kip and after jotting down the telephone number, she terminated the call. She rubbed her hands on her blue jeans, feeling like she needed a shower after to talking to the slime-ball lawyer. She then began writing down questions to ask Pendleton. This wasn’t her first rodeo and Shari knew that she would only have one shot at this. For the next hour and a half, Shari racked her brain and her fingers danced across the keypad. She felt as if her marriage was riding on the phone call and she wasn’t about to screw it up. Finally, she was satisfied at her list and she picked up the telephone.
Forty minutes later, Shari hung up the phone. She laughed to herself; had she really thought she would just pick up the phone and actually speak to a celebrity like Ty Pendleton? That had been a childlike fantasy and totally unrealistic. Still, she had struck gold and she was brimming with excitement. Yes, it could be done. Better yet, Mr. Pendleton’s assistant had supplied her with a wealth of information, from the city and state offices that she would need to contact, all the way down to the builders and contractors that the show had used when they were filming in Minnesota. Best of all, the man had even given Shari an email address and telephone number for an experienced coordinator, Chona Nederski, and he assured Shari that she could handle the job.
Once again, Shari began making lists and placing phone calls. Every few hours, Tom would call and give her an update on how his day was going. Supposedly, they were finished with the legalities. The insurance adjustor had seemed to know what he was doing and as they filed the claim, the fire inspector arrived and probed what was left of the house; which admittedly, wasn’t much. Somehow, he had been able to confirm that the fire had started on the stove and he told Tom’s mother that she was lucky to be alive. There were more tears, but Tom said that his mom seemed to be much better today. During his last call, Tom sounded apprehensive on the phone. They were out buying necessities and he was worried that his mom might be going overboard. “That’s impossible,” assured Shari. “You buy that poor woman anything she needs; do you hear me? This is an important step and it’ll show her how much we love her.”
“Oh honey,” said Tom, “do you really mean that? I can’t tell you how good that makes me feel. She’s buying a lot of stuff. I just don’t want you having a heart attack when I show you the receipts.”
Shari laughed at that, but inside she was filled with trepidation. “Don’t worry about it. In fact, I want you to make a day of it. Things here are going full-speed ahead. I’m so excited. I just need some time to finishing tying this all together.”
“Tying it all together; you’re so punny.”
Shari laughed at that. She hadn’t meant to make the pun, but it had fit and it made her appear to be wittier than she actually felt. “Can we plan on having dinner at five? Do you think that will give you two enough time?”
Tom assured Shari that they would have more than enough time. He went on to say that he understood that she was working on something very important. He and his mom would stay out of her hair. She hung up, feeling good about their conversation. After putting her list together, Shari called her attorney and filled him in on what she was up against. Her attorney, Stan Menkowitz, also twice divorced, was very sympathetic to her plight and promised to move mountains to make this project happen. Shari thanked him and forwarded him all of her information by email. At 1:30 that afternoon, Stan called her back to say that all of the pieces were in place. Demolition of Doris Picacello’s house would begin in two days at precisely 8:00. He also said that Chona Nederski was at that very moment, in her car and driving out to the lake with house plans for Shari to consider.
Shari hung up the telephone, feeling overwhelmed, but proud of her accomplishments. She had taken Doris’ bull by the horns and had wrestled it to the ground. She ate a late lunch, a frozen dinner she cooked up in the microwave, and had a glass of Asti Spumante to celebrate.
Chona Nederski arrived and hit the ground running. She was short in stature with what Shari thought were beautiful Polynesian features, from her big brown eyes to her long, silky black hair. She talked so fast that Shari had to stop her, several times, and ask her to slow down. “You don’t understand,” said Chona, “time is a luxury that we don’t have. Try and keep up, okay?”
At first, Shari was put off by Chona’s brusque attitude, but she slowly began to understand that the woman knew exactly what she was doing. There were decisions to make, hundreds of them, and they had to be made before they could begin construction. There were materials to order, crews to contract, variances to be obtained, and even a few palms to grease. Shari found herself trying to crawl inside Doris’ head, something she loathed doing, trying to think what her mother in-law might like when it came to floor plans, countertops, bathroom fixtures, color schemes. Everything needed to be hammered out before Chona walked out that door. Even then, second and third choices needed to be decided upon, in case something was out of stock or they couldn’t find an installer.
“I think my head is about to explode,” said Shari, pouring herself another glass of Asti. “Would you like a glass?”
“I’d like an entire bottle,” said Chona, “and I’ll take one just as soon as we finish the final walk through. We’ve got work to do, Shari. Keep your eye on the prize.”
That was when Shari finally understood what she was up against. She gave up trying to decide what Doris would like, for it was quite possible that she was going to hate everything about her new home. Shari made decisions and called the shots according to her own tastes and preferences, which turbocharged the process. Chona was thrilled at her transformation, unaware that her comments had spurred the change in Shari.
They plowed ahead, discussing landscaping options and windows and doors and siding and roofing. Shari stabbed her finger at her choices. “This one, that one, that one, this one,” she spat, becoming almost automated. Chona began to laugh. “You have no idea what a breath of fresh air you are,” she said, as they drew down to the final phases. “I only wish my other clients had as much taste and were as easy going as you are. You’ve made my job so much easier.”
Twenty minutes later, Chona was driving through the gate. Shari smiled, feeling better than she had felt in years. She poured herself another glass of wine and took it outside to enjoy. The late afternoon sun was hidden by a blanket of clouds, but it was warm outside and the bay was filled with fishing boats, jostling for position to catch the evening bite. Shari watched them, still smiling, wishing she were out on the water. She loved to fish and she realized that she and Tom had never even talked about that. There was so much she still didn’t know about him, and he of her, and she was excited for them to be able to resume their relationship. The sound of the gate buzzer startled her. She checked her watch, it read 4:45. She chuckled as she ran up to the house to buzz Tom inside. The day had gotten away from her, but she had accomplished much and she felt pride in that.
She walked back out the patio door and watched as the Mercedes appeared at the crest of the hill. Behind that, a large moving van appeared, which was followed by another, and another after that. The big trucks were like moving billboards, advertising what stores they hailed from. Shari now understood what Tom had been getting at on the telephone. She swallowed back her anger, watching the big trucks as they lumbered down the driveway. Shari finished her glass of Asti and held it up in the air. “Bring it,” she said.
Chapter 4
Doris motioned to the big house as they topped the hill. “I can’t wait for you to be living inside that grand house,” she said. “You must be very excited.”
Tom groaned. “Ma, would you knock it off? That decision isn’t up to me. You know what I told you, Shari has had th
e place locked up since her folks were killed.” Tom’s cellphone began to chirp and he fished it out of his pocket and checked the number. “Dang it, Ma, it’s Lumpy again. This is the tenth time he’s called since you gave him my number. What am I supposed to say to him?”
“I have no idea, Tommy. He is your cousin.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s your cousin, Ma. He’s also a jerk.”
“Oh, but look at that glorious house. I would be just dying to get in there, if I was you. Just imagine what’s inside there.”
Tom dropped his cellphone back into his pocket and looked up at the big house. His mother was right; he was dying to get inside of that place. Still, he didn’t want her to know that and he didn’t reply. Shari would allow him inside when she felt the time was right. He would just have to bide his time and that was all there was to it. He checked his rearview mirrors and watched the trucks. He hoped Shari wouldn’t think they were all full to the back. She had told him to let his mom buy what she thought she needed. If she was mad, she would only have herself to blame. At least, he hoped she would feel that way.
“Look at me, Tommy We need to talk.”
“We’ve been talking all day, Ma.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t want to live under the same roof as the two of you. I know how newlyweds are and it hasn’t been that long that I’ve forgotten what newlyweds do. I didn’t just fall off the back of a truck. You know that I’m a light sleeper.”
“Ma, I get your point. Can we just talk about something else? This is creepin’ me out.”
“Do I have to spell it out for you? My God, Tommy, think about it. Do you want me in the next room when you and Shari go to bed?”
“Stop it, Ma,” said Tom. “No, you don’t have to spell it out for me. I read you loud and clear. I’ll talk to Shari about it, okay?”
“I think the sooner the better. Maybe I should wait out here while you go inside and talk to her. Newlyweds should have their privacy. I’ve always said that and you know that I have. And if push comes to shove, I mean if she doesn’t want to leave her home, you can tell Shari that I would be fine in that big house, all by myself. All I would need is a few rooms.”
Tom sighed and parked the Mercedes in the driveway. He then pressed the garage door opener and the big door began to lift. “Come on, Ma,” he said. “We have to figure out what to do with all of your stuff.”
Doris stepped out of the SUV and she closed the door. She met Tom at the back of the vehicle and they both began gathering up shopping bags. Tom waved at the truck drivers and helpers and pointed to the open garage. Doris glowered at them. “Those men had better be careful with my things. I hope they know how much it cost.”
“I’m sure they do, Ma. You did buy it from the places they work at.”
Shari walked out to greet them and after exchanging a quick kiss with Tom, one that drew a sour face from Doris, Shari offered to help with the bags. “I didn’t know you were going to finish your shopping in one day,” she said. “Good job.”
“Oh, but I’m not finished,” said Doris, staring up at the twin turrets of the big house. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always wanted to live in a house with turrets.”
“Ya know,” said Shari, conversationally, “I used to have that same dream. I really did, but when it actually came true it was no big deal.”
“Maybe not to you, it wasn’t, but to me it would be like the highpoint of my life.”
Tom led the way and the three of them began carrying Doris’ purchases into the house. He could feel his cheeks growing red and he wished his mother would stop dropping hints. She was about as subtle as an earthquake.
“Well, it won’t happen in that house,” said Shari. “Not while I’m still alive. Nope, that was my parent’s house and it’ll always be my parent’s house. I’m kind of funny like that.”
Doris frowned and gave Tom a hard look. “I’ve heard of people like you,” she said. “I guess they’ve come a long way in treating your condition.”
“Stop it, Ma,” said Tom, knowing this train had already jumped the tracks.
“I didn’t know they started calling respect a condition,” said Shari. “I guess I need to start watching more television.”
Tom was just about to scream when he saw a familiar face at the back of one of the trucks. “Hey Ma,” he said, motioning toward the truck with a pair of white shopping bags. “Doesn’t that guy look like Shifty Sam?”
Doris and Shari both stopped to look and the figure began waving at them. “Why, that is Sam,” said Doris. “I didn’t know he worked for Slumberland.”
“I didn’t know it, either,” replied Tom, watching his mother’s cousin as he jogged over to them. Despite his past, or perhaps because of it, Shifty Sam was still in the prime of his life. Exceedingly fit, he had once confessed to spending six hours a day at the gym. He wore a tight white t-shirt shirt over a pair of blue jeans, and with his slicked-back pompadour, sculpted sideburns and pencil-thin moustache, he looked like a time traveler from the 1950’s.
Doris smacked her lips. “You know, Sam and I aren’t actually blood relatives,” she said.
Tom wasn’t about to comment on that. He was confused. The Slumberland driver and helper were already carrying a box spring into the garage. He and Shari exchanged a wary look as Shifty Sam began to slow up. “Hey Fat Tommy,” he said, taking a toothpick out of his mouth and pointing it at Tom. “How are you’?” Nice day we’re having, huh?”
Tom shrugged. “I’m good, Sam.” he said. “What are you doing out here?”
“I’m getting to that part,” said Shifty Sam. “Excuse me, Shari, Doris, it’s certainly a nice day we’re having, isn’t it? Here, let me help you with those. They look heavy.”
“Sam,” said Tom, “you didn’t answer my question.”
Sam hung his head. “My car broke down on the freeway. I’m flat broke, Tommy, what was I supposed to do? I’m sorry, you want me to leave?”
“We’ll get your car towed to a shop and have it repaired,” said Shari, nodding her head. “In the meantime, we’re about to have dinner. Are you hungry?”
Sam rubbed his stomach and smiled. “That would be very nice of you,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“You wouldn’t be putting us out,” said Shari. “Tom, call Triple A and have them tow Sam’s car to a repair shop. I was just about to order some Chinese? Does that work for everyone?”
“Chinese?” asked Doris, making a sour face. “I was hoping that you would have cooked something.”
Shari wanted to laugh. She had been cooking all day, but not the way Doris had in mind.
“Thank you,” said Sam. “You guys are great. I just knew you and Fat Tommy would come through for me.”
Shari stopped and turned to face him. “You can call Tom whatever you like when you’re alone,” she said, stiffly. “But I find it disrespectful to hear him called that, especially when you’re a guest at his home. I would appreciate it if you remembered that.”
Shifty Sam smiled and nodded his head. “Whatever you say, Mrs. P.”
“Oh no,” said Doris. “There’s only one Mrs. P in this family, and that’s me. Sam, you’ll just have to call her something else.”
“I prefer Shari,” said Shari. “There will be no nicknames used here.”
After carrying Doris’s purchases into the house and stowing them inside her room, Tom and Sam walked back out to the garage. Tom made small talk as the hired help emptied their trucks. He told Sam about the house fire, but found out that Sam had already heard about it. “That must be a terrible thing,” he said. “Your mom is a strong woman.”
“You can say that again,” agreed Tom.
“She was always my favorite cousin.”
Tom pulled his cellphone from his pocket. “So, where did you leave your car?”
Sam made a funny face and his eyes fell to the ground. “I ain’t got no car, Tommy,” he admitted. “I kind of made that part up.
”
Tom nodded. He had expected as much. He liked Sam, he had always liked Sam; everyone had always liked Sam. By all accounts, Sam Calizzi was the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his own back. He was polite, funny, and had a smile that could light up a room. The trouble with Sam was that trouble hung over him like a shadow. He made poor decisions and he had paid for each of those bad decisions. They had cost him nearly half of his life. “Sam,” he said, “I want to help you, but I need to know if you’re on the level. You’ve made some pretty crummy choices in the past. Can we agree on that?”
Sam removed his toothpick and he began to laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “I think we can agree on that.”
“Are you working?”
Sam put the toothpick back between his teeth and he shrugged. “Kind of,” he said.
“Kind of? What do you mean?”
“Well, I give blood three times a week. I’m AB Negative. It ain’t so bad. I get cookies and juice and it pays for my gym dues.”
“Uh-huh,” said Tom, wondering how anyone could survive like that. “Where do you live?”
Sam scratched his head and studied Tom’s face. His brown eyes grew cold. “Where the heck do you think I live? I live under a bridge, Tommy, inside a refrigerator box. I own two pairs of clothes and I wash them with a bar of soap, down in the river. And you know what? I ain’t blaming anyone but myself for where I’m at. I’ve been a fool and I like to think that I learned my lesson. Yeah, I’ve made some crummy choices, but if you’re thinking that you can’t trust me, you’d be dead wrong. I ain’t never lied or stolen a dime from my family, Tommy. You can take that to the bank.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t need to. I could see it in your face.”
Tom smiled sadly and nodded his head. “Can you blame me for wanting to be careful?”
Sam stepped outside of the garage and let his eyes wander around the property. “Not one bit,” he said, shaking his head.
The Minnesota Candidate Page 4