by Ward, Vivian
“How did you hear about the accident?” Curiosity had gotten the best of me.
“Word travels fast, Mrs. Clay,” he sipped his coffee. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss something with you.”
Oh, maybe he’ll let us keep our house. Please, God, let him tell me we can stay here.
“As you may know, I’ve talked to your husband in the past about selling your property in order to build an apartment complex and shopping mall for the community.”
I nodded, “Yes, he did mention that to me before he passed away.”
“I’d like to make you an offer for your land.”
I held my hand up cutting him off. “Mr. Pincetti, I…”
“Please, call me Jeff. There’s no need to be so formal,” he politely smiled at me.
“Jeff, right now, I can’t deal with that. It’s been so hard for my daughter and me losing Thomas.”
“Judy—if I may—I’m aware that funeral and burial costs are quite expensive. I know that your family was in need based on the bulletins your church posted all over town. I came here today to help you and your daughter.”
“With what?” I couldn’t imagine him wanting to help us out if he was still willing to take our home. Why did he care anyway?
“I’d like to offer you $110,000 for your property. That includes the acreage, your home, and the barn. I know that in a situation like this, that money could really help you in such a time of need.”
My jaw dropped. Is he serious? “Mr. Pincetti, I know…”
“Please, Judy, call me Jeff.”
“Jeff!” I could feel the heat radiating from my face as I tried to control my temper. “Do not attempt to come and insult me in my own home, especially after I just lost my husband!”
“Judy,” he grinned, “I’m merely trying to help. Don’t you want the best for you and your son? Don’t tell me that you don’t need the money.”
“I don’t have a son! I have a daughter, and her name’s Natalie! And let me tell you something else,” my blood was boiling. “Natalie has special needs. She’s deaf, and I know that my husband turned down a $175,000 offer. I’m not sure why you’re trying to come in here and low ball me, but it won’t work!”
“Situations, needs and circumstances change, Judy. I apologize if you think I was insulting you.”
“Show yourself out, Mr. Pincetti!”
I turned on my heel and stomped down the hall to my bedroom. A few moments later I heard the front door close as he left. What did I do to deserve this? First we were looking at losing everything we’ve ever had and being forced to start all over, then I lose my husband and I’m still looking at starting all over. Now this pompous ass comes in here and adds salt to the wound? I began crying uncontrollably. Christmas was only a few weeks away and I barely had any money. While I would’ve loved to take him up on the offer, I couldn’t. Not only would I be selling us out by being forced out of our home early, I also knew that he’d offered much more money in the past. That man was bold, and I couldn’t believe my Thomas had only been in the ground a week before that shark came in here trying to sink his teeth into me.
Shortly after Thomas passed away, I started crocheting blankets and taking them up to the local flea market to sell in order to pay the bills and buy Natalie a few things for Christmas. In addition to the blankets, I bagged up all the pecans that we’d collected and sold them too. The money was slowly adding up, but at least I had some coming in without having to leave the house to work. There’s no way on God’s green earth that I could ever leave Natalie home alone or send her to someone else’s house for them to take care of her.
Not too long after Mr. Pincetti’s visit, the house was vandalized. It was only a few days before Christmas when I entered the brutal, frostbiting Missouri winds to check the mail and saw someone had dumped several bags of trash all over the front lawn. Initially, I thought a dog or wild animal had gotten into our trash and dragged it all over the yard, but that wasn’t the case. My trash was still in the receptacle, and I use white trash bags; these were black. The trash was spewed all over from one of the yard to the other. I spent almost an hour picking up all the trash out of the yard. The last thing I wanted was for Natalie to what had happened.
When it rains, it pours. Maybe moving out of here would be the best thing for Natalie and me, but I hate to leave Thomas’s legacy behind. He’d worked so hard to give us what we had; I couldn’t turn my back on all of it now. At least, not without a fight. Our church was doing what they could to help us get by, but it wasn’t enough. I hated taking handouts; Thomas would’ve never accepted anyone’s help—financially. But here I was, receiving help with our light bill, phone bill and groceries. Tears started welling up in my eyes as I thought about things.
We were supposed to have such a great winter this year. This winter would’ve allowed us to make more money than any of the last five winters, and we were going to put some of it into savings. All of that’s gone now. All I have are these blankets, pecans and the chicken eggs to keep money coming in. One thing that I did have to my advantage is that before Thomas died, he made sure that there was enough wood for our house for the winter. He always cut ours before filling other orders so if he came down with the cold or got sick, he never had to worry about going out to work or sending me to pick some up. That alone saved me hundreds of dollars, if not at least a thousand dollars.
The day before Christmas Eve, I went back to the flea market to check on my sales. They’d gone through the roof! All of the bags of pecans were gone and I only had three blankets left. If my calculations were correct, there was nearly $250 waiting for me at the register from my sales. Oh, thank God! I will be able to buy Natalie a few lovely gifts. I took the ticket from my booth and headed to the register for a payout from my stand. The petite brunette that runs the flea market smiled when she saw me approaching her.
“Well, hello, Mrs. Clay! How are you doing today?”
“Good,” I handed her my ticket. “I can’t complain, my booth’s almost empty! Looks like my sales have been booming,” I smiled, grateful that I’d sold so much.
“I know! The weather’s been so cold that they’ve been flying off the shelves back there. Everyone loves your patterns; they’re unique.”
“Oh, that’s so good to hear! Thank you,” I smiled at her.
“You’re welcome,” she counted the money back to me. “And here’s one, two and forty-six, fifty.”
“Wow, I can’t believe it! $246.50! I’ll be able to have such a good Christmas with my daughter,” I could hardly contain myself.
“Mrs. Clay?”
“Yeah?”
“There were some women in here that would love to buy more of your blankets for the nursing home in town. Do you know how many you could make and how long it would take? They asked me to ask you.”
“I could have probably do two a week for them. How fast did they want them and how many?”
“They said about a dozen or so, and they’d be willing to pay extra for them.”
“Do you have a pen?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. To say I was excited would be an understatement. “I’ll have you write down my number so they can reach me and we can coordinate an order that way.”
After I wrote down my number, the brunette placed it inside the register and promised to give it to the ladies as soon as they came back in. Things were finally starting to look up. When I left the flea market, I took Natalie to church for her youth group meeting and left to do some holiday shopping. I still needed to buy everything for our Christmas dinner, but I would have plenty left over to get her some nice gifts. This was the first youth group meeting she would be attending since her father passed away. As I dropped her off, I told the youth leader that if Natalie started having any problems to call Mrs. Jenkins. Mary was a longtime friend of the family and knew a little sign language, and I trusted her with my daughter more than anyone else from the church.
With my cash in tow, I he
aded to the store and was able to score Natalie a small fortune in art supplies. The last thing she’d painted was the picture for her dad; I wanted her to start drawing and painting again. Maybe this will be just the push she needs. I didn’t want to see her talent go to waste and didn’t spare a penny when it came to her presents. Drained from my rushed shopping trip, I headed back to the church as her youth group meeting was drawing to a close. For the first time in a month, I saw my beautiful Natalie smiling. She walked out of the classroom with a precious baby doll that one of the other children had given her.
“Momma, look what I got today,” she signed with excitement.
“Your baby is so beautiful. What’s her name?”
She thought for a moment before signing back to me. “I think I’ll call her Tammy.”
My eyes did a double-take as she signed the letters. “Tommy?”
“No, T-a-m-m-y,” she spelled back to me. “She’s a girl, but her name is close to daddy’s name.”
“Oh, baby, I bet your father’s looking down from heaven smiling at you right now,” I hugged her.
We maintained our usual Christmas Eve ritual even though her daddy wouldn’t be there. I thought it was very important to keep things as normal as possible. She helped me bake cookies for Santa and prepare some of our food for our Christmas dinner. Before the end of the night, I handed her her Christmas Eve box. It was filled with popcorn, hot cocoa, a new pair of pajamas, and a coloring book with brand new crayons. This was a tradition that Thomas and I had started with her since she was big enough to understand the concept. She’d slip into her new pajamas while I popped the popcorn and made the hot cocoa, and then we’d stay up late coloring pictures for Santa and his reindeer.
On Christmas morning, Natalie slept in as I baked cinnamon rolls for our breakfast. Baking cinnamon rolls for breakfast was something we’d done ever since Thomas and I had gotten married. It was one of his favorite meals. After I pulled them out of the oven and spread the icing on them, I went into Natalie’s room and woke her up.
“Come on sleepy head, it’s Christmas morning,” I hugged her as she rubbed her eyes.
“Did Santa come?” she asked as she put on her slippers.
“He did! You should see all the presents,” I told her. “Come on, let’s see what you got.”
Natalie followed me out to the living room. Her eyes lit up as she looked at the gifts under the tree. The house had a frigid chill to it that morning.
“Let me throw some more wood on the fire before you open all these presents,” I signed to her.
She could hardly wait for me to stir the firewood around and sit next to her. I watched her tear into the gifts one by one until they were all unwrapped. She was so excited to receive new coloring books, watercolors, paints, canvases and her big present—a brand new easel. The one she’d been using was partially broken but we only paid three dollars for it at a yard sale. It made my day to see her that excited in such a long time.
“Come on, let’s go eat our cinnamon rolls before you start any new projects.”
Natalie eagerly followed me into the kitchen and made herself a cup of hot cocoa while I plated our food and poured myself a cup of coffee.
“I know daddy’s not here, but this is a great Christmas. I love you mom!”
“Aww, Nat, I love you, too. I’m sorry your daddy can’t be here, but I know he’s watching you from heaven, and have each other and that’s all that matters right now.”
Chapter 4
The women from the flea market had called me and loved my work so much that they were willing to pay double for my Afghans, and placed an even bigger order than they had originally anticipated. In addition to that, I was still making a pretty penny off the blankets that I was still selling at the flea market since the winter had been so harsh. I had so much work cut out for me that I had to spend a few days teaching Natalie how to make Afghans and enlist her help. Including her on my crafts seemed to help lift her spirits even more. She’d finally left the withdrawal phase and was beginning to move on. She was now eating regularly and had begun to partake in more activities within her church youth group.
With Valentine’s Day coming up, I decided to branch out my crocheting skills and started to make stuffed animals to sell for the holiday. Natalie loved making “Love Bugs” and giant red heart-shaped pillows to sell in our booth. Thomas was right about her being so talented. I would’ve never been able to do the things she does at her age when I was that young. Everyday that I watched her, I became more amazed with her talents.
The week of Valentine’s Day, Nat and I were busy ramping up on our holiday crafts to sell at our booth when I saw a car pull into the driveway. A dark colored BMW parked next to my powder blue Buick. Craning my neck to see who it was, I leaned over in the chair and saw it was him again. Ugh, can this man not understand English? I got out of my chair and walked over to the door before he had a chance to knock, and opened it.
“Hello, Ms. Clay,” Mr. Pincetti greeted me with an overly exaggerated smile.
“Mr. Pincetti,” I replied as I nodded at him.
He pulled his arm from behind his back and presented me with a bouquet of flowers.
“Judy, I wanted to come by to apologize for my previous behavior. I’ve had some time to reflect, and I can see how you perceived my earlier visit.”
“Uh-huh, thank you.” Where’s he going with this? I know he’s got something up his sleeve. “And you came by today only to apologize?”
“Well that, and I wanted to make you aware of some upcoming city council matters. May I come in please?”
“Be my guest,” I said against my better judgment.
When he walked in the living room, Natalie looked at him and then to me. Confused, she started signing to me, asking who he was. I quickly signed back to her that he was a businessman and he needed to speak to me about something important. As we sat down in the kitchen, he noted that we were using sign language.
“Your daughter can sign pretty fast,” he complimented.
“I guess you would too if you’ve been deaf all your life,” my words sounded bitter. “What would you like to tell me about the city council?”
“Listen, Judy, I’m not here to waste your time. I can promise you that, but I wanted to stop by to remind you that the city council will have their official vote for the eminent domain in the next couple of months.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. The reverend has been keeping me informed.”
“Then you must know that it will inevitably pass, and you will likely lose your home when that happens.”
“Get to it,” I snapped.
“I came by to offer you more money for your house. Since our last visit, a few things have come to light and…”
“What things?” I was tired of doing his dance. The last time he was here, he hadn’t exactly left me with a warm, fuzzy impression of himself.
“I don’t know how to say this, but I didn’t realize that you had a child with special needs. And I also didn’t understand the severity of your situation. I’d like to offer you $160,000 for the property.”
“Jeff, if I were to sell this house and land, I’ll have to move. It’s just not something that we’re prepared to do. You also can’t expect me to sell everything only months after my husband’s passed away. Our entire family’s history is in this house.”
“I know it’s hard for you, Judy, but think of what you could do with $160,000 for you and your daughter.”
And there it is. He’s giving me just enough rope to hang myself with. It’s also not nearly as much as he offered my husband. Sure, I could do a lot with that kind of money, but it wasn’t only about the money. It would be an enormous adjustment for Natalie and me. At least right now, I have my booth at the flea market where I can sell blankets and crafts, and I have my chicken coops so I can sell eggs. The pecan grove yields quite a bit in the fall; if I move to the city, I won’t have any of these things. And the cost of living is much higher in the Kan
sas City, Joplin or Springfield areas.
“Judy? Did you hear what I said?” he broke the silence as I contemplated all of these things.
“Yes, I heard you. Loud and clear. I don’t have an answer for you right now. Neither one of us can predict the future, Mr. Pincetti—I mean Jeff—nor am I ready to move just yet.”
“You're aware that if you continue to refuse my offers that you’ll be forced to accept whatever the eminent domain decides your property is worth. I think my offers have been quite generous,” he cocked his head and raised his brow, as if he expected me to agree with him.
“Jeff, I’m sure your intentions are good—for yourself, but I’m not selling out my family. Do you have any idea what I’d do with my daughter if I moved away from the only community we’ve ever known? Who would take care of her while I worked at a full-time job to support us?” I could feel a well of emotions building within me as I let my rage continue. “How would she communicate with others? Not everybody knows sign language to speak to her, and…” I broke down. I couldn’t go on talking, it felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest and I couldn’t breathe.