by Ann McMan
“Thanks so much, Edna.” Syd took the plate from her. “Please call me Syd.” She smiled warmly. “I ran into Peggy Hawkes on my way in, and she said I should ask you for a slice of her lemon pie. Do you know if there’s any left?” She cast her eyes back behind Edna where a group of volunteers worked a makeshift assembly line fixing plates and to-go boxes.
Edna warily followed her gaze. “Sure, honey. Let me get you a piece.”
She walked back to one of the volunteers and gestured toward a row of precut desserts. She returned and handed her a plate that held a shiny piece of yellow pie—and a brownie.
“Here you go.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell Peggy, but this really isn’t very good.” She smiled. “I gave you a brownie, too. You’ll want that.”
Syd thanked her and went to the outside area in search of a place to sit down.
“Looking for company?” a low, sexy voice said softly from just behind her.
Syd jumped and barely caught her dessert plate as it started to slide off the Styrofoam box that held her dinner.
She turned around. A smug and smiling Maddie stood behind her near the drinks table. Maddie was dressed in the same faded blue jeans from the morning, but had changed her polo shirt for a fitted, black v-neck t-shirt. She had a straw-colored cotton sports jacket slung over her arm, and her thick dark hair was now loose about her face.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said with a grin. Her blue eyes were twinkling.
“Back at ya,” Syd replied with a smile. “I ran into Peggy on my way in, and she said you had been here. I assumed you’d already left.”
“Nah. I can’t let the local undertaker be the only professional working this event.” Maddie raked her eyes over the crowd, then nodded at a tall, skinny man in a black suit who was slowly making his way from table to table. “I gotta drum up some business.”
Syd followed her gaze. “Oh really? Hoping someone will choke on a piece of gristle and need the Heimlich maneuver?”
Maddie snorted. “Gristle my ass.” She bent closer and whispered into Syd’s ear, “Wait until you taste that lemon pie.”
Syd looked down at her dessert with alarm. “You know, you’re the second person to caution me. How do I get rid of this without offending anyone?”
Maddie took her by the elbow and led her across the field toward a couple of unoccupied tables. “Stick with me, kid. I’m a pro at the old bait-and-switch technique.”
They sat down at a small table beneath a large red maple tree that vibrated with fall color. Maddie tossed her jacket across the back of an extra chair and folded her arms in front of her on the tabletop.
“Did you already eat?”’ Syd asked, as she unfolded her paper napkin and opened her container.
“Oh, yeah. But I wouldn’t say nay to one of your hush puppies.” Her eyes were hopeful.
Syd pushed the container across the table. “Be my guest—I don’t really do well with fried food.”
“Amateur.” Maddie snagged one of the fried cornbread morsels and moaned happily as she bit into it. She looked down at Syd’s meal. “Hey. Do you want some tea? Or water?”
“Sure. I forgot to snag a bottle of water while we were up there by the table.” She started to get up.
“No, no. Stay put. I’ll go. I want something else, too.” Maddie stood up. “Be right back.”
Syd watched her cross the field and stop to laugh and chat with several groups of people on her way to the beverage station. She couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed and in command Maddie seemed in this setting—less like the shy and somewhat awkward woman she had been last night when they had been alone together. It must be her professional persona. I guess she has to be like this in public. It wouldn’t do for her to appear unsure of herself.
She took a few bites of her barbecue. It was amazing—incredibly rich and flavorful with just the right amount of spice to the sauce.
There was a large crash, and Syd looked up, startled, to see a commotion by the drinks table. It looked like someone had tripped and fallen into the table and knocked over a huge tureen filled with iced tea. People in line were scrambling to duck out of the way of the icy brown liquid as it raced across the plastic-covered tabletop and poured onto the ground. Syd stifled a laugh when she saw a beet-red Roma Jean sprawled in an ungainly heap on the grass and wearing a dazed expression as Maddie bent over to help her back to her feet.
Syd shook her head and took another bite of the barbecue. The poor kid won’t get any sleep tonight, either.
Maddie came back to their table in a few minutes, holding two big bottles of cold water. She sat down across from Syd. “I barely dodged that bullet.”
“Do you mean Roma Jean?” Syd asked, innocently.
“Roma Jean?” Maddie looked confused. “No, the tea. It went everywhere.”
“Right.” You’re so clueless.
Maddie looked down at Syd’s plate. “So . . . what’s the verdict?”
“Are you kidding? It’s fabulous.” She pushed the plate toward Maddie. “Best I’ve ever had.”
Maddie snagged another hush puppy. “I think it’s that sauce Curtis makes. He should bottle it.”
“So, Doctor,” Syd said in a low, conspiratorial voice, “what’s your strategy for ditching this pie?”
“Ah, yes. Take the brownie off and slide the plate over here to me.”
Syd did as she was asked.
Maddie positioned the plate just to the right of her elbow and casually pushed it toward the edge of the table. Then, straightening her arm out as she reached for another hush puppy, she seamlessly knocked the plate off the edge. Syd heard a soft splat as the pie landed facedown on the grass.
“Oh, damn,” Maddie drawled. “How clumsy of me.”
Syd looked beneath their table at the gooey yellow mass. “Um, Maddie? Is that grass turning brown?”
Maddie guffawed. “I wouldn’t doubt it. My dad used to say that you could use the filling from Peggy’s chess pies to grout tile.”
“Oh, god. Poor thing. And she thinks they’re wonderful.”
Maddie smiled. “So, how was the rest of your morning? Did you get your work done?”
Syd nodded. “Yep. I made a real dent in processing the New Media materials I was telling you about.”
“I think it’s great that you’re sensitive to this need in the community. You’ll do more to help the population here than any of the social service agencies have done to date.”
Syd shrugged. “It’s why public libraries exist, really—to fill those gaps that traditional agencies don’t or can’t address. And I’m lucky that the trustees of this particular grant project have given me so much latitude and autonomy. I can pretty much design the collection any way I want.”
“Well, then, the residents of Jericho are fortunate to have you in this role. Anyone else probably would have opted for a set of encyclopedias and a bunch of Turner Classic Movies on DVD. What you’re doing is really going to make a difference to many people who wouldn’t otherwise have access to services that could materially improve their quality of life.”
“You know, you could be talking about yourself.”
Maddie blushed. “It’s not the same thing at all. They pay me for my services.”
Syd held her ground. “Not all of them. Don’t think I haven’t heard about your weekend clinic hours for people with no insurance.”
Maddie shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. We all do what we can.” She gave Syd a small smile. “Don’t canonize me yet. I still make a pretty decent living off this practice.”
“I know,” Syd teased. “I’ve seen your wine fridge.”
Maddie chewed the inside of her cheek. “That you have.” She sat back in her chair. “Are you nearly finished?” She looked at her watch. “Wanna go watch the sun set over the river? There’s a gorgeous pathway a short walk from here that runs right along the east bank—the views are amazing.”
Syd brightened up. “I’d lov
e that.”
They stood, collected her leftovers, and discarded everything except the plastic-wrapped brownie in a nearby waste can. Maddie led them away from the fire station and toward a path that snaked back along the edge of the field. Several other couples walked along just ahead of them—clearly motivated by the same idea. It wasn’t long until Syd could hear the sound of the river rushing along beyond a dense stand of trees.
After a few minutes, the pathway opened up, and the river came into view, flashing brilliantly in the late afternoon sun. The wind picked up when they reached the clearing, and a cool breeze blew toward them across the surface of the water.
“My god, you weren’t kidding. This is beautiful.”
Maddie smiled. “Told ya. One of the best things about living up here is that you’re never more than five minutes away from this old beauty.”
They walked along a few more minutes in silence, and then Syd hit an uneven patch of ground. She lost her footing as the sudden shift in weight stressed her weak ankle. Maddie quickly caught her by the arms and held her upright. Syd fell against her and stood for a few moments with her face pressed into Maddie’s shoulder.
“Are you all right? Did you twist it again?” Maddie asked with concern.
Syd pulled herself upright. “No—no. It’s okay. I just stumbled on something. I guess my ankle is still pretty flimsy.”
Maddie kept an arm wrapped around her. “Let’s find a spot to sit down so I can take a look at it.”
“No, really. It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt.” She looked up into concerned blue eyes that now searched her face from inches away.
The landscape seemed to melt and reform itself right before her eyes. The sensation was identical to the one she experienced over a month ago, on her first day in Jericho, when she sat next to Maddie by this same river. She had a feeling that some primal force was giving her mental kaleidoscope a great, wrenching twist—tumbling the colored shards of glass inside into a curious and surprising configuration. Time seemed to stop as they stood there, rooted to the spot like trees, slightly swaying toward each other as the breeze swirled around them and the sun dipped further into the west.
They looked around at the sound of pounding feet.
“Come back here with that, you bastard!”
The two teenaged boys from the food line at the fire station burst through the trees and into the clearing. One raced ahead of the other, waving an open can of beer over his head and swinging the rest of a ringed six-pack in his other hand. Beer and foam flew everywhere as he ran past them. The other teen slowed briefly when he saw Syd and Maddie, then he raced on by—clearly more focused on getting back his contraband than in stopping to admire them.
Syd and Maddie stepped away from each other belatedly. Maddie kept a secure hand on Syd’s elbow. “Do you want to go back?”
Syd shook her head emphatically. “Not at all. I promise, it’s fine. I’d really like to finish the walk.” She smiled at Maddie. “Stop worrying, okay? I’m really not that brave. If it hurt, I’d tell you.”
Maddie smiled as she dropped her hand. “Okay. C’mon then. It’s not much further.”
They continued on along the path until they reached a wide bend where the river turned and headed back away from them. They sat down on a large, felled log near the bank to rest before starting back toward the fire station. The sun was just above the treetops, and its late autumn light bathed everything around them in a warm, gold color.
Syd nudged Maddie playfully. “I wish we had another thermos of your coffee.”
Maddie looked at her. “You know, I almost brought one along. If I had known for sure you were gonna be here, I would have.”
“Well, next time we’ll know better.”
“That we will.”
Syd stared off across the water at the sunset. “It’s so beautiful.”
“You can say that again.” Maddie’s voice was enigmatic.
They sat in silence for a few minutes and listened to the sounds of the water and the occasional notes of distant laughter that drifted toward them on the breeze.
Maddie stretched her long legs out in front of her and leaned back on her hands. She turned to Syd. “So. What do you have on tap for the rest of this fine evening?”
Syd shrugged and ran a hand through her short, blonde hair. “Nothing much. I thought earlier that I might try to relax and do some reading but it’s likelier that I’ll end up going back into the branch to work for a couple more hours.”
“That seems like a shame. I was heading back into the clinic after this but I think I’ve succeeded in talking myself out of it.” She nudged Syd playfully. “See? You’ve already guilted me into paying more attention to my life away from work.”
Syd studied Maddie. “Really? You’re quite a pushover. Are you generally this easy to manipulate?”
Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Depends on who’s doing the manipulating.”
“Oh, selective flexibility. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Maddie crossed her arms. “You know, as your doctor, I could offer you some studied, professional advice.”
“Oh, yeah?” Syd lifted her chin as she regarded Maddie. “Let’s hear it.”
“I know you have the branch opening breathing down your neck but I think you need to take at least one night a week off. Do something else—something personal—something that feeds your soul. You can’t underestimate the restorative powers of a few hours of enforced relaxation.”
Syd held Maddie’s blue gaze. “I thought that’s what I did last night?”
Maddie held up an index finger. “No. That’s what I did last night. And in this case, turnabout is fair play.”
Syd wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure this prescription is covered by my insurance plan.”
Maddie laughed. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a free sample.” She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. “What were you going to do if you went back to work?”
“Oh, it’s highly technical—something only a licensed professional can do.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I was going to paste cards and pockets onto the backs of about two hundred pieces of media.” She sat back up. “It sounds boring, I know, but after about an hour of inhaling the fumes from the rubber cement, you don’t mind it at all. I’ve actually wondered if there were twelve-step programs for this. It’s kind of addictive.”
Maddie chuckled. “How long will it take you to do this?”
Syd shrugged. “I dunno, a couple of hours. Why?”
“I haven’t been high since college.” Maddie’s voice was dreamy. “I’m thinking it might be fun. How about some company?”
Syd stared at her. “Are you nuts? It’s mind numbing. There’s no way you want to spend a perfectly good Saturday night, sitting in a dank old storefront up to your elbows in rubber cement.”
“Oh, c’mon. Let me exercise my philanthropic muscles a bit. I happen to know that I’m the only member of the library board who hasn’t ponied up yet with some material support. It’s long overdue.” She paused. “I’ll even make us some coffee.”
Syd narrowed her eyes. “Now that’s just playing dirty, and you know it.”
Maddie grinned. “Whattaya say? I can meet you there in half an hour, and we can knock this out in a fraction of the time it would have taken you. You can have your nose safely tucked into a book by eight-thirty.”
“You’re pretty persuasive,” Syd said with amusement. “It must go with all of those abbreviations after your name.”
“Hey, don’t knock it. Those abbreviations took ten years to acquire, and I’m still paying for most of them.”
Syd slowly shook her head. “I can’t begin to understand why you’d want to do this, but I’d be crazy to refuse your help.”
Maddie gave her a dazzling smile. “Great. Let’s go.”
They stood up and walked back up the path toward the fire station. When they made the final turn and the field full of picnic tables came into view, Syd nudged
Maddie.
“I wonder if there’s any lemon pie left?”
Maddie eyed her with suspicion. “Why? Thinking you might want some dessert later?”
Syd shook her head. “Not at all. I was thinking it might work better than rubber cement.”
The musical sound of Maddie’s laughter trailed behind them as they made their way across the field and headed toward their respective cars.
ON MONDAY NIGHT, Maddie worked alone in the clinic, updating patient records. She was in the midst of moving all of the files in her practice to an EMR system she had purchased six months ago, but it was proving to be an arduous and protracted process, and she found herself spending many evenings just like this one—checking and cross-checking data entries for accuracy.
Her father’s practice hadn’t been all that large, but he had been the chief medical provider to scores of families in the area for over twenty-five years, and the backlog of thick patient files was daunting. She thought again about engaging some extra help to make the tedious transition, but she was uncomfortable with the more customary practice of outsourcing the entire project to an agency, and there were sticky confidentiality issues related to engaging local part-time help. For the time being, she and Peggy continued to plug away at it whenever they could, and Maddie now managed all of her active records electronically.
She was making notes on Mrs. Halsey’s sciatica when her cell phone rang. She answered it without checking the caller I.D.
“This is Stevenson.”
“Hi ya, sweet cheeks. What’s shakin’?”
She smiled. It was David. “Nothing much. I’m just here at the clinic—cooking the books, like normal. What are you up to?”
“Oh, I’m gonna be playing host at an ostentatious soirée, and I need your help.”