The Good Nearby

by Nancy Moser

  “Moved on, Maddy. People have to move on when they aren’t making enough to live. Big towns with big stores and big jobs. That’s what people need.”

  She watched a squirrel scamper diagonally from the park to the bank just a few feet in front of her. It didn’t even hesitate. Even the rodents knew there was no need for a traffic light in Weaver anymore.

  Her shoulders slumped. What she needed was a long soak in a lavender-scented bath. What she needed was time—more years to accomplish what she wanted to accomplish. “They don’t need those things they’re after, Web. They want them. Big difference.”

  He came toward her, right there in the street. She let him come. She could use a hug. In the three years since Augustus had died, she’d relied on Web’s arms to make her feel better when the world was uncooperative. Her cheek found his shoulder. The clasp to his overall strap bit into it, but she didn’t care.

  “It’s not your responsibility, Maddy.” He put a hand on the back of her head and she closed her eyes to let the years slip away. Many, many years . . .

  But then his words—instead of falling away as they gave comfort, hung back and started to jab like a bully offering a challenge.

  Yes, she and Web had lived a lot of years here, shared a lot of history, but it wasn’t time to rest on those laurels yet. There were too many years between them to brush off as being past and over. She may be old, but she wasn’t dead yet.

  She suddenly pushed away from him. “It is my responsibility, Web. You don’t know . . .”

  His faded blue eyes looked confused, as if he’d forgotten he’d just said those very words.

  She repeated herself, growing impatient. “Weaver is my responsibility.” She pointed at the street signs. “Emma Street is named after Augustus’s great-grandmother, and Henry Avenue was named for her father. Every street in this town is named after a Weaver. They claimed it ninety-nine years ago and we’ve been here ever since. I’m the last Weaver standing and I will not go down without a fight!”

  She noticed her arm was raised in a give-me-liberty-or-give-me-death position. She kept it there for effect.

  “Ever hear of retirement, Maddy? Enjoying your golden years?”

  She lowered her arm. “Oh pooh. Use it or lose it.” She started walking toward the Weaver Garden on the far edge of the park, right across from the Weaver mansion. She often did her best cogitating among the flowers.

  When she didn’t hear footsteps coming after her she turned back and found Web still standing in the middle of the abandoned street. “You coming?”

  He put his hands in his pockets. “Depends. Exactly what are you planning to do?”

  “I’m going to save Weaver, silly. And after I do, we’re going to have the best and biggest one-hundredth birthday celebration this town has ever seen.” Web’s shaking head riled her. “I will save Weaver, Web Stoddard. The question is: will you help me?”

  Web’s sigh was eaten up by the drone of the cicadas overhead. “What do you have in mind?”

  Madeline had never let technicalities stop her before, and she certainly wasn’t about to start now. She put her hands on her hips. “Are you in or out?”

  “You need to explain—”

  She took a step toward her best friend. “I don’t need to do anything of the sort. I need a yes from you. Now.”

  “Before I even know the question?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re not being fair, Maddy.”

  She planted her feet dramatically and waited. Come on, Web. Do this for me. For Weaver. For us.

  Web’s head shook no even as he said, “Yes. Yes, I’m in.”

  Bravo.

  It was a start.