by Ingrid Thoft
A woman answered the doorbell wearing a sweatsuit covered by an apron. It said THIS GRANDMA BELONGS TO, with a depiction of five kids, their names by their likenesses.
“I’m Fina Ludlow. I think we spoke on the phone. Is Ronnie home?”
“Did we? I don’t recall, but don’t take it personally. Things go in one ear and out the other these days.” She stepped back, her expression briefly registering Fina’s face. “I’m Mary. Ronnie’s wife.”
“Nice to meet you in person.” Fina followed her into the house.
It was a traditional center hall Colonial with a dining room to one side of the stairs and a den to the other. The dining room looked like a place that was only used during holidays and family functions. A couple of Lladró figurines were on the mantel beneath a large family portrait.
“Ronnie!” Mary hollered up the stairs. “You have a visitor!” Mary directed her to the den. “You can wait for him in there.”
Fina took a seat on a nubby plaid couch, and Mary went to the kitchen at the back of the house.
The low coffee table in front of Fina was oval shaped, its surface unmarred. A nearby set of coasters was probably the reason. The Herald was on the table next to a stack of flyers announcing the Ronald McCaffrey Junior Annual Go-Kart Derby. Fina grabbed one and studied it. The event was slated for May at the local high school.
Seeing the name reminded Fina of a news story she’d stumbled on during her Internet search of Ronnie. A piece in the Herald detailed the death seventeen years earlier of Ronald McCaffrey Jr. He had been killed by a drunk driver on his way home from the movies. Two other eighteen-year-olds were in the car with Ronnie. One was killed instantly, and the other suffered serious injuries. The tragedy had all the elements of titillation and was featured heavily in the Herald: a good working-class family, a father who was a public servant, a young man cut down in his prime, a villain, and plenty of people to blame, including a criminal justice system that had failed spectacularly. It would have made for a great soap opera if only it weren’t true. The drunk driver had previously been arrested eight times for DUI and was sentenced to seven years in jail—hardly a fair punishment for killing two people.
She heard footfalls overhead, and a minute later, Ronnie came into the room wearing dark blue pants, a Boston Fire Department sweatshirt, and slippers.
“What can I do for you, Tina?” he asked, settling into a recliner across from her. He didn’t react to her appearance, which was refreshing.
“Fina. It’s Fina,” she corrected him. “Sorry for dropping by like this. I stopped by to see Evan, but he isn’t home.”
“I think Molly has a class. Dance or something like that.”
“I thought you might be able to help me. I’ve been reviewing Nadine’s papers, and I’m missing some of the neighborhood association minutes. I assumed you’d have copies.”
Ronnie clasped his hands across his stomach. “What do you need with the minutes? They’re not exactly exciting reading.”
“I’m trying to learn as much about Nadine as I can.” Fina shrugged. “It’s just due diligence.”
Ronnie pushed himself out of the chair and walked to a drop-front desk in the corner. Donning a pair of glasses, he reached into a slotted compartment and pulled out some papers.
“Which ones do you need?” he asked Fina, returning to his recliner.
“I’m not sure. Do you mind if I take them all? I can run out and make copies. I’ll have the originals back to you within an hour.”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Fina reached over and took the papers.
“Any news on who’s responsible for Nadine’s death?” Ronnie asked.
“Still under investigation.”
“Antifreeze,” he said, shaking his head.
“Lethal stuff,” Fina said, wondering how Ronnie knew about the antifreeze.
“I have contacts in the department,” he said as if reading her mind. “That’s how I heard about the COD.”
“Lots of people have it around the house, but I don’t think they realize how dangerous it is.”
“No need to have it at home,” Ronnie commented. “Go to the auto supply store and buy what you need, then get rid of it.”
“How do you get rid of it?” Fina asked.
“The city has hazardous waste disposal sites. You don’t want that stuff in the water table.”
“So, you don’t keep any around?”
He looked at her. “Not with all the kids and pets in this neighborhood.”
Fina rested her finger on the go-kart flyer. “How many years have you been doing this?” she asked.
“Seventeen.”
“Do you have to live in the neighborhood to participate?”
“Nope. Everyone’s welcome.”
Fina scanned the notice again. “Maybe I’ll bring my nephews. They’d love it. And it’s for a good cause.” She pointed at the MADD logo at the bottom of the page.
“All the proceeds go to getting drunks off the roadways.”
“You must have seen a lot of accidents when you were working.”
Ronnie looked away. “I did.”
Fina followed his gaze to a framed picture on a side table. It was of a young man in a baseball uniform, a younger Ronnie standing next to him, beaming with pride.
“It’s great you do it every year,” she said. “It’s a nice way to keep your son’s memory alive.”
“You can just drop those minutes in the mailbox,” Ronnie said, rising from his seat. Obviously, he didn’t want to discuss Ronnie Jr. or anything else with her.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” Fina shook his hand, and he closed the door behind her.
One nice thing about her conversations with Ronnie McCaffrey? Unlike everyone else these days, he didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the state of her body or soul.
• • •
Fina found a Staples store near Ronnie’s and made copies of the minutes she hadn’t yet read. She slipped them back into his mailbox, as instructed, and called Lucas’s number. It went straight to voice mail so she dialed the Chellew house, and Heather Chellew was kind enough to direct Fina to Darcy’s softball game. Heather was still grateful for Fina’s firefighting abilities and was happy to part with the information.
On the way to the Dedham middle school, Fina stopped at a McDonald’s drive-thru and ordered large fries, a large diet soda, and an apple pie. It was a starchy, carb-heavy meal, but seemed appropriate given that she was heading to a sporting event.
Fina found a parking space overlooking the softball field and watched the action while eating. For someone without any children, she spent a remarkable amount of time at kids’ games. Between her own niece and nephews and the interviews she conducted on sidelines, she was a regular booster.
She made a quick call to Hal, her financial wizard, and left a message asking to see him. On the way to the field, she stuffed her trash into the bag and deposited it in a barrel. She tucked her drink between her elbow and side and searched the sidelines for Lucas. He was sitting in the first row of the bleachers, at a slight remove from the other parents.
Fina took a seat next to him, and he turned to say hello before realizing who it was. His smile was short-lived.
“Hi, Lucas. Heather told me I’d find you here.”
He stared at her. “What happened to you?”
“Minor accident. I’m fine. Which number is Darcy?” Fina asked.
“Eleven,” he said grudgingly. “She’s on third base.”
Fina narrowed her gaze across the field and tried to look interested. “Does she like playing?”
“Loves it. She’s a great little athlete.”
They were quiet as they watched the next batter. The sound of the bat connecting with the ball rang across the field.
“I went
to a presentation about the Frontier Fund last night,” Fina said after a moment.
“It’s an amazing program.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ve donated two thousand dollars to the church.”
Lucas looked at her. “Really?”
“You seem surprised,” Fina said, applauding a good play by Darcy’s team.
“I am. I didn’t think you were much of a believer.”
“You and Chloe and Pastor Greg keep urging me to keep an open mind. And who wouldn’t want to help orphans in Africa?” She sipped her drink.
“It really is God’s work.”
“Have you been? To Africa?”
Lucas shook his head. “I haven’t had the privilege. One of these days, I’d love to.”
“So who’s in charge of the programs in Africa? I assume there’s someone from the church over there?”
Lucas watched as Darcy caught a hit to left field. “Good job, Darcy!” he hollered between cupped hands. “We don’t have a member there; it is Africa, after all. We have a local organization that we work with. They handle things on that end.”
“What organization is that?”
“I don’t know the information off the top of my head,” Lucas said. “I’d have to look it up.”
“Could you? That would be great. Thanks, Lucas,” she said, knowing the information was unlikely to materialize.
Fina took a few more sips of her drink and tossed the cup into a nearby garbage can. “I’ve been reading the minutes from the leadership committee meetings. Interesting stuff.”
Lucas frowned. “Those are confidential, only to be read by committee members.”
“Ehh, not really,” Fina said. “They aren’t legally binding documents, so really, anyone can read them.”
“Where did you get them?”
“From a trusted source. But why the concern? Is there something you don’t want nonmembers to know about?”
“Go, Darcy!” Lucas yelled.
“Go, Darcy!” Fina parroted.
“I’d rather not discuss church business at my daughter’s game,” Lucas said, offering Fina a pained smile.
“Of course. I’ll let you get back to your cheerleading. I’m really excited about the Frontier Fund.”
“We’re all just instruments of God,” Lucas said.
Fina returned to her car.
She wasn’t sure where the Frontier Fund inquiries would lead her, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t Africa.
TWENTY-FOUR
Christa sat at the table with the kids while they finished their dinner. Paul had class tonight, and Evan had a late meeting, so she’d offered to feed Molly. The girls were engaged in an animated conversation about a Disney movie they had all seen countless times, yet it still warranted endless discussion.
Molly pushed back her chair and climbed onto Christa’s lap. The two older girls didn’t miss a beat, but Tamara eyed Molly. Her youngest liked being the baby, and Christa wondered if she felt threatened by the younger girl. She didn’t want Tamara to feel insecure, but Molly needed all the love she could get. Even before Nadine died, the child had gravitated toward Christa rather than Nadine. The natural instincts that kicked in with other people—the slow swaying motion when holding a baby, the unconscious rubbing of a small child’s back—seemed absent in Nadine. Maybe that would have changed if she’d had a child of her own, but Christa doubted it; some people just weren’t wired that way.
Christa leaned down and inhaled the scent of Molly’s hair. It smelled like her girls’ hair. Evan must have started using the watermelon shampoo she recommended. He was a good father. He didn’t always know what he was doing, but he would learn.
The front door opened, and Molly bolted from the room. Christa could hear her greet her father as Tamara claimed the free space on Christa’s lap.
“Hey, girls,” he said when he came into the room with Molly in his arms.
“Hi, Uncle Evan!” Nicole crowed and the others followed suit. The room filled with the chatter of the reports of their days.
“Did you eat?” Christa asked. “There’s some baked ziti and salad.”
“Sounds great. They had some cheese and crackers, but nothing substantial.”
“I’ll fix you a plate.” Christa shooed Tamara away.
“I can get it myself,” Evan insisted.
“No need. Girls, why don’t you go into the family room? You can play for a little while before reading and bedtime.”
“When do we get dessert?” McKenna asked.
“In a little while. Uncle Evan and I need to talk before you have dessert.”
Evan released Molly to the floor, and she followed the others out of the room. He took a seat at the table, and Christa doled out the pasta and placed it in the microwave.
“You want a beer?”
“Yes, thanks.”
The microwave dinged, and she put the food and beer in front of him. She topped off her wineglass and took a seat.
“Was Molly okay?” he asked.
“No problems. She’s a good kid.”
“Thanks for helping out.”
“Of course. We’re family. I’m happy to help.”
Evan dug into the ziti with enthusiasm.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Christa asked, grinning.
“Lunch, but your cooking is so good. It brings out the glutton in me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“So you wanted to talk about something?” he asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
Christa rotated her wedding ring on her finger. “It’s kind of awkward.”
He nodded at her, encouraging her to speak. “Like you said, we’re family.”
Christa picked at something on the table that was invisible to the naked eye. “Did Nadine mention anything to you about the loan for McKenna’s school?”
Evan narrowed his eyes in thought. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why would she need a loan for school? Doesn’t she go to the public school with the other girls?”
“She does now, but she’s applied to the Graymoore School. Their program is geared toward kids who have learning disabilities.”
“I’ve heard of it. That’s great.”
“Well, she hasn’t been accepted yet, but we’re hopeful.” Christa glanced toward the doorway to ensure the girls weren’t lurking. “Nadine and I discussed the possibility of a loan if McKenna was accepted.”
Evan looked surprised. “Wow. I’m impressed.”
Christa cradled her wineglass between her hands. “What do you mean?”
“She agreed to give money to you instead of the church? How’d you manage that?”
“Well, it’s for educational purposes. It’s not like I asked for it so we could take a cruise.” She had a large swallow of wine.
“Even still. It actually makes me happy, the idea that she wasn’t completely blinded by those people.”
Christa smiled weakly. “Not completely.”
“I’d love to help out. Let me know when you hear from the school, and we’ll figure out the details.”
“Thank you so much, Evan, and I swear, it’s just a loan. Paul thinks he’s in line for a promotion, which would mean more money. We’ll pay you back, even if it takes forever.”
Evan speared a piece of ziti. “Like I said, we’ll figure it out.”
Molly rushed in at that moment, eager to tell her father about an incident at school.
Christa sat quietly and waited.
She waited for the wash of guilt, for the nagging regrets, but they didn’t come.
The path to the money had been circuitous, but she would get the loan, and she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for that.
• • •
Fina didn’t have the energy or the will to keep traipsing
around the city, so she went home and curled up under Nanny’s afghan on the couch. She snoozed, but it wasn’t satisfying. Fina felt hyperaware of the routine sounds in the condo and struggled to find a comfortable position. After forty-five minutes of skimming the top layer of sleep, she got up and chugged a glass of water. Milloy was always extolling the benefits of water, but she usually opted for diet soda. Given her compromised state, she needed all the help she could get.
A knock on the door interrupted her second glass. She picked up her gun and walked quietly to the door to peek through the peephole. Hal was standing on the other side.
“I didn’t mean that you had to drop everything and come over,” Fina said, letting him in.
“I had some business downtown. I thought I’d take a chance that you’d be home.”
“Here I am.”
Hal stepped toward her and examined her face. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. “I thought you were turning over a new leaf,” he said finally.
“When did I say that?” Fina asked, motioning for him to take a seat. She went to the kitchen to fetch his usual glass of water before joining him.
“Last time we met,” he said, “you were in one piece, and now look at you.”
“It’s just a bruise, Hal, and I don’t think I promised that I would stay out of trouble.”
He shook his head. “It’s not right.”
Fina handed him the glass. “It’s an occupational hazard. Believe me, I’d rather be in the occasional fight than sit at a desk job all day or have to punch a time clock.”
“There are other options,” he insisted.
“Don’t worry. It’s not good for your health.” She reached up to massage the bruised area near her eye, then thought better of drawing attention to her injury. “I need some more information about that church you looked into before.”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“I made a donation to Covenant Rising and earmarked most of the money for their Frontier Fund,” Fina said. “It’s their fund for orphans in Africa.”