by Suzi Weinert
Grammy shook George’s hand. “Nice to meet a gentleman. There aren’t enough around anymore.”
George smiled, handing her his business card. “Just send me the repair bill. Rumor on the street is that you may move soon. True?”
“Yes, in about three weeks. Hate to leave my home and this neighborhood… and Florida’s beauty and climate. But…time marches on,” Grammy said, on the verge of tears.
Seeing this, Jennifer thanked them. “Good to meet you both.”
Becca asked if the boy could have some candy. She exposed the end of a Hershey bar in her pocket. When the father nodded, she offered it to Georgie.
“By the way, do you have wasps in the yard?” They looked blank.
“…that can of wasp spray in your hand.”
“Oh,” Jennifer laughed. “Just…just in case we do.”
“Bye, George and Georgie. Nice to meet you both,” Grammy said.
They closed the door.
“Becca, sorry to ask, but would you look up glass repair shops on your computer and make a few calls? I remember a TV ad for a company with 24-hour service. The sooner solved, the better. Meantime, I’ll get the ladder and tape cardboard over the hole to keep bugs out and air conditioning in.”
Grammy shook her head. “I’ve had about all I can take for one afternoon. I’ll lie down a few minutes while you two decide where to eat dinner for our celebration tonight. Call me ten minutes before you’re ready to go.”
She went upstairs while Becca worked her smart phone and Jennifer made a list of likely places to eat. Becca scheduled the glass repair for 9:00 the next morning. Jennifer settled on a favorite restaurant, Bravo at Mercato, and made a reservation.
Becca looked thoughtful. “Mom, in a way we learned something important today.”
Jennifer lifted a questioning eyebrow toward her daughter.
“Max can get into the house through a broken window at night. With no alarm, we won’t know he’s here until he appears in our bedrooms. He knows the house and where they are.”
Jennifer nodded. “Glad you thought of that. Max may not know or care where you and I sleep, Becca, but he certainly knows Gram’s in the master bedroom.”
“…and she’s the one he’s after.”
“We haven’t heard back from Goodwin. Could wasp spray possibly offer enough protection?”
Becca frowned. “And how well does it work against a gun?”
CHAPTER 39
The next morning, Jennifer checked garage and estate sales in the Naples Daily News. The classified section showed an area map dividing the sales into Bonita Springs, North Naples, Naples, South Naples and Marco Island.
She liked Golden Estate Sale’s catchy ad for the event they’d visit first, but she also wanted info about others in the vicinity. Scrolling Craigslist, she found additional Naples listings.
Becca enjoyed these sales almost as much as Jennifer did, but had Grammy the stamina or motivation to attend any while downsizing her belongings? They couldn’t leave her alone at home with Max on the loose. After critiquing Golden’s sale with their own upcoming version in mind, Becca and Jen decided they’d stop the minute Grammy tired.
The glass repairman came on time and finished work quickly. Jennifer explained about the bill.
“You pay me,” he made clear. “Then work it out with your neighbor however you want.”
By ten o’clock, they locked the house and set off for sales. They nodded approvingly at Golden Estate Sales signs at intersections blocks away from the sale, with arrows pointing the correct direction. The large sign in front of the sale was an attention-getter. “I like their advertising,” Becca said.
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Grammy asked.
“Yes, I am,” said Jennifer. “Something for Jason’s birthday next month. I’ll know it if I see it.” Her bonding with the dragon she’d thought would make a good birthday gift seemed more like fusion. She didn’t want to part with it, even within her same household. So she’d find Jason another gift. They reached the front stairs.
“Ready to go in, Mom?” Grammy nodded.
Inside the house, they saw like-items grouped together. China, silver, linens and crystal in the dining room, all kitchen cupboards open to display contents and the counters covered with bowls and pans. In the garage were tools, ladders, mops and seasonal decorations. Upstairs bedroom closets stood open with clothing and shoe prices listed on the door. Folded bed linens, curtains and pillows were stacked neatly on the beds. In the home office, half-full boxes of new file folders, envelopes, paper clips and other supplies covered the desktop and surrounding shelving.
In one of the bedrooms, Grammy exclaimed, “Oh look. Here’s a piece of Blue Danube china I always liked: the biscuit jar. Didn’t I give my Blue Danube china to you some years ago, Jen?”
“You did, and I use it every day. It always reminds me of you and happy times around the table when you used it as I grew up. I love it.”
Becca picked up the piece Grammy had admired. “A biscuit jar?”
“Yes,” Grammy explained. “The English call our cookies ‘biscuits,’ although theirs are usually smaller. But you could store other things here or even remove the top to use it as a vase.”
As they moved among the rooms, Jennifer whispered. “Notice how they’ve put one of their people in each room to deter shoplifting?”
Grammy scoffed, “Why would anybody steal at a sale where everything’s already a bargain?”
“In psychology, we learned some people don’t even need what they take,” Becca said. “It’s the addictive thrill of stealing; outsmarting the system, breaking rules and feeling clever—assuming they get away with it, of course.”
Grammy examined a figurine. “I think Golden does a great job. I’m glad we chose them.”
They headed for the car, Becca catching up behind them. “Shall we visit some more sales today?”
“Don’t think I will,” Grammy said, “I shouldn’t buy anything and we have so much to do at home preparing for the move.”
Jennifer pulled the Mercedes into the garage, lowering the door as they went inside.
Becca hurried to her laptop. “Here are responses to the inventory pictures I e-mailed yesterday. Do you want to decide about these family requests, Grammy?” At her grandmother’s nod, Becca added, “I’ll print them out. Glad your printer works wirelessly.”
“Yes, and I’m glad I remembered the password!” Grammy grinned and turned to her daughter. “Becca chose some of the goblets, Jen. Is there something you’d like?”
“Mom, the beautiful things you’ve collected over the years are all treasures to me because I remember them from childhood. Even when you moved here, you brought along most paintings and furniture. If I feel an emotional attachment to them, I know yours is even stronger.”
“I want to show you something.” Grammy pulled a box from a drawer in an end table. “There are the pictures I meant to put in albums. Each one is small freeze-frame of a moment in my life or of the ones I love.” They each took a handful to look through, exclaiming over people and places in each scene.”
“Mom, why not take all these with you? We haven’t time now, but in Virginia, we can group them by year and make books of them. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Yes, it would, dear. Because these and everything here in my home are proof….”
Becca and Jennifer exchanged questioning looks.
“Proof?” Becca raised her hands, palms up.
“Proof my life wasn’t just a dream.”
CHAPTER 40
The doorbell chimed. They were careful to peek out the window before opening the door.
“Georgie. How nice of you to visit.” Grammy said.
“Could I…could I please look at the broken window again?”
“Of course. Come in.” They led him to the dining room and Grammy eased into one of the chairs while the boy studied the floor under the window and the window itself.
“Those broken pieces…how did you connect them together and get them back up there?”
Becca explained, “We swept up the broken pieces and threw them away. Then we called a glass repairman to install a brand new window pane.”
The boy processed this chain of events.
“I play third base.”
Becca grinned. “And I used to play first base.”
The boy smiled acknowledgment of this unexpected kinship. “Do you…have any more of that candy?”
“I do.” Becca produced a Hershey bar from her pocket. “Do you like chocolate?”
“My favorite.”
“Mine, too—another thing we have in common besides baseball.”
Georgie grinned.
Jennifer had a sudden idea. “Georgie, do you play outdoors a lot now that it’s summer vacation?” He nodded. “If you ever see a bad man on our street or in our yard, would you please come to tell us right away?”
The boy looked doubtful. “What does a bad man look like?”
She handed him Goodwin’s mug shot of Max. “Like this.”
The boy appeared confused. “He looks like a regular man. What makes him a bad man?”
“He’s a bad man because he was so mean to Grammy she had to go to the hospital. She told the police and they arrested him but getting arrested made him really mad. Then they took him to jail, which made him even madder. But he escaped from jail. Now he wants to hurt Grammy again. If he comes near our house, do you understand why we must call police right away to arrest him and take him back to jail?”
“Yes, I get it. Would he…ring your doorbell?”
“We think he’d sneak around the house and find a bad way to get inside. He’s a criminal.”
“What’s a criminal?”
“A bad man who does crimes like stealing, cheating, hurting people and being cruel to nice old ladies like Grammy.”
“Oh.” The boy headed for the front door. “Thanks for the candy.”
Grammy laughed. “Do you think he understood a word you said?”
The phone rang and Grammy put it on speaker. “Deputy Goodwin here. Any sign of Roderick?”
“No,” Grammy answered.
Jennifer turned away and lowered her voice, hoping Grammy couldn’t hear. “But we learned our security system doesn’t respond to broken panes, which is the way he’d likely break into our house. We’re not feeling very secure with only wasp spray for protection.”
“Yeah, well I can’t spare anybody right now to stay there. Does your community do Neighborhood Watch? If so, you could at least alert them.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“Meantime,” Goodwin continued, “keep your doors and windows locked and your car parked inside the garage. Call me with any news.”
They agreed.
Grammy sat down with a sigh. “Jen, don’t we have George Bixby’s business card? What if you took the repair bill to his house and asked if he knows about a neighborhood watch? I’ve become rather isolated now that I’m older, but they’re a young family and should know.”
“Okay. While I do, Becca, why don’t you and Gram organize one of the rooms for movers, making sure go/stay signs are on every item? The packers may work in several rooms at the same time, so we want them to be clear about what to do. Lock the door after me.”
Jennifer found the Bixby house. George answered the door. “Nice to see you. Please come in.”
Jennifer did, producing the repair bill. “Thank you again for taking responsibility. I have five children and respect the positive lesson you showed your son.”
“Glad to do it and, again, sorry about the window.”
“Does this community have a neighborhood watch?”
“Not that I know. Some discussion about it once but I think nothing came of it. Why?”
“Have you a few minutes for me to explain?”
“Sure. Have a seat.”
Jennifer told a short version of Max’s cruelty to her mother, his criminal behavior pattern and the new threat he posed. “Here’s his picture.”
George considered the situation. “Not the kind of man we’d want around here. Look, why don’t I make a flyer with his picture and text like, ‘Max Roderick wanted by police. Possibly targeting this neighborhood. Call 911 if you see this man.’ My family would willingly knock on doors and hand out the flyers on this street. As a side benefit, if neighbors draw together in a common cause, this might even lead to formation of an official Neighborhood Watch. Good could come from this bad situation.”
“Thanks, George, for this great idea. We’ll move north in another two weeks, but until then this flyer could be very important.”
“Look, I work in computer graphics. If you let me copy this mug shot right now, I can create a flyer for you to proof before I print and distribute it. Is a particular detective working on this case?”
“Deputy Cliff Goodwin. I know his phone number by heart.”
George wrote it down.
Jennifer rose to go while George fished out his wallet and removed several bills. “This is for the window repair.”
“Thank you. Actually, some good came from that, too. We learned of a security system flaw at the very time we need to know where the house is vulnerable.” She explained the window situation.
She left and crossed the street, inadvertently peering around, half expecting Max to leap from behind a bush. This was no way to live.
As she put lunch on the table, the doorbell chimed. Peering out first, she opened the door for George. “How does this look?” Below Max’s picture the flyer read:
Max Roderick
WANTED BY COLLIER COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE
Possibly targeting our Pinewood Neighborhood
If you see this man, call Deputy Goodwin at 239-801-8688 or 911
“Perfect.” She showed it to Grammy and Becca, who agreed.
“Please keep this copy.”
“Thank you very much, George.”
“This is what neighbors are for.”
As he left, Goodwin’s car pulled in front of the house. The deputy shuffled up the front steps.
Inside, Jennifer showed him the flyer. “Good idea and timely, too.”
“Timely…?”
“Yeah,” he continued. “New development. In interrogating the cellmate further, we learned your mother’s not the only one Roderick’s afraid could ID him and his girlfriend. Also on his list is your beautician friend, Chelsea.”
Chelsea mentioned these two becoming an item, Jennifer remembered. If so, for Goodwin this was no longer just part of his routine job. Now he took this personally.
CHAPTER 41
From Saturday through Wednesday, Grammy, Jennifer and Becca prepared for the movers, adding items requested by family members to the “take” category. Finalizing choices became crucial.
More important, no sign of Max. Had he changed his mind about “getting” Grammy? Moved with his girlfriend across country to start over? Focused revenge on Chelsea instead of Grammy?
Becca confided, “Mom, as each day passes quietly, I feel less anxious about Max.”
“Me too, but the opposite could also be true.” At Becca’s puzzled expression, she explained, “This isn’t to scare you, honey, but to keep us both alert. If Max hopes to lull us into a false sense of safety, we might get careless about security. And if Grammy’s still in his sights and he hasn’t struck yet, then we should be even warier.” When her mother walked in, she changed the subject. “Grammy, you’ve been a trouper through all this. With Becca’s excellent photos, soon you can remember how every room looked by flipping through her pictures.”
“Which I’ll put in an album so they’re easy to see and store in your fancy new apartment,” Becca promised.
“Have we overlooked anything before the movers come early tomorrow?” No one spoke. “Then why don’t we walk through one last time, room by room?”
They followed Grammy into the kitchen. “What about this cerami
c chicken and rooster set?” Becca asked, realizing they’d missed categorizing something obvious.
Grammy sank into a chair. “This is why it’s hard to give things up. I’m the steward for these pieces of the past. These were my grandmother’s,” Grammy said wistfully. “Her farmer husband encouraged her to start her own small chicken business—exciting for a woman back then. After producing chickens and eggs for the family table, he said any remaining profit became her own money. These ceramic figures symbolized her independence, and she treasured them for sixty years, into her eighties. Then they sat in my mother’s kitchen another twenty and in mine for thirty. Letting them go feels like betraying a piece of family history placed in my care. See why I cling to things others consider dust catchers?”
“Yes, we do.” Jennifer put a loving arm around Grammy’s shoulder as they walked toward the lanai. “Now this room should be easy. Virginia apartments might have outdoor balconies, but this is indoor furniture. Let it go?”
Grammy nodded and they moved to the study. “Dad’s desk is too big for a small apartment,” she decided. ”I’ll take the file cabinets because I haven’t time to sort through them now. I’ll need a place to keep my papers. Most books are for the sale, except for this pile.
They studied contents of the remaining rooms, ending up in the master bedroom.
“Have you separated take-and-leave clothes, Mom?” Jennifer called from the walk-in closet.
“Yes, but I haven’t pinned signs on them for the packers.
“Also take-and-leave shoes. I’m getting rid of all my hats and most purses. They’re old styles now.”
“’Vintage,’ Grammy, not ‘old.’” Becca giggled. “Vintage shops sell the very things you’re discarding. Some older fashions are even making a comeback, like platform shoes.”