Saturday Morning

by Lauraine Snelling

  “He had me sign an IRS form, married couple, so we both signed it.”

  Julia stared over her glasses. “Are you sure he filed?”

  “He must have. I never heard from the IRS … ” Clarice paused, her eyebrows knitting in thought. At length she said, “But then I didn’t pick up the mail. I let him get it. He seemed to take such pleasure in it.” She sighed and shook her head. “There’s no fool like an old fool.”

  Julia wagged a finger at Clarice. “Well, since you are neither, I guess that doesn’t apply to you.”

  “Thanks, but—”

  “No buts. He was very good at what he did, and like I said, I know of at least three other women that he pulled this on.”

  “So I’m either in good company or foolish company,” Clarice said, not bothering to hide her resentment.

  Julia pointed to the computer Clarice was working on. “The Internet is a wonderful invention. I think I’ll start a blog for women who’ve been fleeced. I bet I’d get all kinds of interesting stories. And who knows? Maybe it’ll be the launch of a whole new career for me.”

  “What about your practice in Kansas City?”

  Julia put a finger to her cheek. “I don’t know. Other than a glitch once in a while, they seem to be doing just fine without me. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I can work up any enthusiasm for family law again. I don’t even know if I really want to go back to Kansas City.”

  “Has the City by the Bay stolen your heart?”

  “Could be.”

  Clarice smiled. “It’s certainly stolen mine. If I could get some of my money back, I’d rent or buy a little place near here. I don’t need much.” A slow smile curved her lips. “In Florida I had money and a handsome husband, but here—here, I have a purpose. Here, I’m needed.”

  “You’d stay here then—here at J House?”

  “It’s better than going back to New Jersey and listening to my big sister say ‘I told you so.’”

  “One thing to keep in mind, you’ll have to go back to Florida at some time.”

  “Why?”

  “To testify at this jerk’s trial.”

  Clarice grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “With bells on.”

  Julia checked her PDA. “I promised to be up at Andy’s in a half hour to open the door for the men delivering the hospital bed, so I’d better run.”

  “Martin’s going home today—right?”

  “Later this afternoon. Andy told me to have them put the bed in the living room so it would be easier on her. She’s certain Martin will pitch a fit, but she says he’ll forgive her once he’s enjoying the view.”

  “I-yi-yi.” Clarice threw up her hands. “Men can be so stubborn.”

  “Who you calling stubborn?” Roger leaned against the doorframe of the office.

  “Men in general.”

  “Myself excluded, of course.”

  Julia tucked her PDA into her purse. “Do we want your opinion, since it could be slightly skewed, or Hopes?”

  “Male bashing is not polite.”

  “It’s not bashing if it’s true.” Julia sat forward, her eyes full of excitement. “Do you want to hear our good news?” At his nod, she told him everything she’d learned about Gregor.

  “Good work, Julia. Maybe you should have been a detective.”

  Julia laughed. “I actually considered it at one time, but you know how that goes.” She stood up, feeling better about herself now than she had in a long time. She refused to diminish her pleasure by wondering why, if she could find a man thousands of miles away, she couldn’t find a sixteen-year-old girl a few miles away. Some things just didn’t make sense. She waved on her way out the door. “See you.”

  Roger checked his watch. “If anyone calls, tell them I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’m going to the store, then over to the hospital to bust Martin out.” He started to leave, then stuck his head back in the doorway. “Hope is sleeping, and while she asked me to wake her, I’m opting for her to sleep as long as she needs.”

  Clarice raised her hand. “I second the motion.”

  Julia stopped by Speedy’s on her way back to J House and bought some chai. She had a taste for something warm and fuzzy, and spiced chai fit the bill. Clarice was still in the office, and Hope was in the common room helping Alphi with his math.

  “Don’t you ever quit?”

  “Celia asked me that a little while ago. Herbert used to call me his little bulldog because I wouldn’t quit until the job was done. Of course, that’s also why he was so successful. The woman behind the man, you know.”

  Julia leaned forward and whispered, “How are you and Celia getting along? I haven’t seen her out in the garden playing gopher in a few days.”

  “We’re getting along just fine. As a matter of fact, she actually asked me to teach her how to use Word Perfect. She said she wanted to write a book about her life. I told her I would be happy to teach her. Now, all I have to do is get her to let me edit it!” She chuckled at her own joke.

  “Do you have time to help with the girls tonight?”

  “Of course. Thanks for asking. Helping with their training makes me feel useful. They’ve come a long way in the few weeks you’ve been doing this.” She glanced at the calendar. “What, four weeks now?”

  Julia nodded. “We need to find places for them to intern, to use their newfound skills in a real office setting.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Clarice said quickly. “I asked Peter Kent about that, and he said he could take one or two of them, and that he’d ask some of his friends if they’d be willing to do the same.”

  Julia leaned down and gave Clarice a hug. “You are amazing.”

  Clarice blushed. “Thank you. I was afraid you would think I overstepped my bounds. That’s why I didn’t ask first.” The phone rang. Clarice answered, then held up a finger to catch Julia’s attention. “It’s for you.”

  “Who is it?” Julia whispered.

  Clarice shrugged. “One moment, please.” She handed the receiver to Julia.

  “Hello? This is Julia. Hello? Hello?” She stared at the receiver, then at Clarice. “They hung up.”

  “It was a she. A young voice … She sounded like she was crying or plugged up with a cold.”

  “Cyndy?” Julia sank down on the sofa.

  “I don’t know but”—Clarice huffed a disgusted sigh—“I should have asked for more information. I know better than that.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Julia said, her voice dragging with defeat. “It must have been her. She probably heard I was here looking for her … God above, I’d give anything to see her again, to hug her. Why would she rather be on the streets than with me? I love her. I want to give her a wonderful life. I don’t understand.” She shook her head, tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes.

  “If that was her, maybe she hung up because she was afraid someone might hear her. Maybe she’s with someone who doesn’t want her getting in touch with you.”

  “You mean like that pimp?” Julia spat out the word.

  “Remember that girl who came over from juvie? She was on the run from a pimp.”

  Julia covered her face with her hands. “I can’t bear the thought of Cyndy working as a prostitute. I know too well how bad it is.” She took a deep breath and worked on composing herself. “If it was her, maybe she’ll call back. Do you have my cell phone number?” She reached forward and grabbed a pencil and a scratch pad. “If I’m not here, give it to her. Tell her I want to talk with her, that I won’t pressure her, that I love her and just want to help her.” She handed the note to Clarice.

  Clarice put her computer to sleep, got up, and signaled Julia to follow. “Come on, both of us have had a big day. Let’s get a soda or something.”

  “I’ve got chai.” Julia pulled two little packages out of her purse.

  “You mean t’ai chi?”

  “No, chai. It’s a tea. All we need is hot water.”

  That night back in her hote
l room, Julia stared at her most recent photo of Cyndy. “Lord, You said You keep track even of all the sparrows, and I know You think Cyndy of more value than a little bird. Please watch over her and protect her—in spite of herself. And bring her back to me.” She sank to the floor and brought her knees to her chest, soaking her slacks with her tears.

  “Huh? What did you say?”

  Roger crawled into bed beside her and put his face on the pillow next to hers. “Blakely Associates was behind our drug raids.”

  Hope tried to make sense out of what he was saying, but her brain refused to cooperate. “Roger, what are you talking about?” She glanced at the clock and groaned. “It’s three a.m., Benson. You are losing your mind and taking mine with you.” She closed her eyes and tried to ignore him, but his breath tickled her face. “Would you mind taking your head off of my pillow?”

  “Not until you hear what I have to say.”

  She stretched her arms out to the sides and rolled her shoulders. “This better be good, or you’re going to be on my list.”

  “It is good. Blakely Associates—you know, the consortium that sent us all those letters? They were behind both drug raids and our crooked cop.”

  She could tell by his voice that he was trying to be cute. “Really? How do you know?” She pushed her pillows against the headboard and propped herself up with a groan.

  “Korchesky called a couple of hours ago and told me to come down to the station so I could hear Watson’s confession on tape.”

  She was wide awake now.

  “He confessed to taking ten grand from Blakely’s CEO to plant drugs on the property.”

  “Wow! They must have really wanted J House to do something like that.”

  “J House sits on some prime property, honey. You know that. A savvy developer could make a fortune.” Taking her hands in his, he smiled into her no-longer-sleepy eyes. “Blakely Associates is in serious trouble. Korchesky has a warrant and will be bringing all the company’s officers in for questioning this morning. He also has a warrant to search their headquarters and their personal homes.”

  “What about Watson?”

  “He’s behind bars, and I imagine that’s where he’ll be staying for quite some time.”

  Hope stared at him a moment, her thoughts whirling. “So my instincts were right,” she said, recalling the letter she had taken to Peter.

  Roger raised up and kissed her nose. “I should have paid closer attention to your instincts and been more watchful. You can go back to sleep now. I’m sorry I woke you up, but I wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t be afraid anymore.”

  “Ah, if that were the only thing I’ve been afraid of.”

  “Other than a forced closing of J House, what else?”

  “Isn’t the forced closing of J House enough?”

  He got out of bed and tucked the covers around her. “Sleep tight.”

  “You betcha.”

  Hope woke to fog-shrouded windows and the penetrating chill of a cold wind tossing the tree branches and seeping in like a bad odor. The clock said nine. How had she slept through the bedlam of breakfast and people getting off to school and work? Roger must have threatened a slow and painful death to whoever woke her up. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been up and down half the night anyway, with a baby lying right on her bladder, or at least giving it a good kick now and then. And she still had three months to go.

  She threw back the covers and headed for the bathroom and a shower. With the hot water pounding down on her, she thought back to Roger’s news. Thank God for Adolph. If not for him, we might have been facing more than the closing of J House. A lot more.

  Dried and dressed, she sat down on the bed to rub dry and braid her hair. “This is the day, this is the day, that the Lord has made, that the Lord has made, I will rejoice, I will rejoice, and be glad in it.” She sang the song softly, when she’d rather be shouting it aloud. But if she made any loud noises, everybody would think something was wrong and come running.

  She needed to sing the song in church on Sunday. Funny how you could forget one of your favorites for a while, and then the Holy Spirit would bring it back. Singing Bible verses always made her feel better.

  Hope left her apartment and went to the kitchen, where she poured herself a cup of decaf coffee. Sipping her coffee, she walked down the hall to find Celia hard at work. “Good morning.” Celia mumbled something that might have been a reply without taking her eyes off what she was reading. “Do you know where Roger is?”

  “Nope.”

  Hope set her coffee on the desk and tried to see what it was that Celia was working so hard on. “What are you doing?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

  “Studying.”

  “Studying what?”

  “Word processing.”

  Hope recalled that Celia had asked Clarice to teach her word processing so she could write a book. Thank You, Father. You did it again. Admittedly, for a while she’d begun to think that peace and harmony between Celia and Clarice was an impossibility. “You can always use word processing, just like you can always use typing,” she said, being careful not to make too much of it, or else it would embarrass her. “Now, is there anything that I need to know this morning?”

  “We got another call for Julia, but the caller wouldn’t give her name. And the Dragon Lady, she didn’t press her.”

  “Celia!” Hope shook finger at her. “Does Clarice know you call her that?”

  “Of course. Why would I do something behind her back? She thinks it’s funny.”

  What could she say to that? Let it go, Hope. They’re working it out their way. “How did Julia’s classes go last night?”

  “That Julia get more out of those girls than I ever thought possible. They sayin’ ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am’ and wearin’ longer skirts and buttoning up blouses.” She indicated her own rather obvious cleavage. “I like the part where they answer the interview questions she fires at them.”

  Hope sighed. “I just wish we could accommodate everybody who wants to take her class, but we just don’t have the resources. Someday, maybe.” She looked at the phone messages Celia had taken and put them in the order of who needed to be called first. “I just had a thought. Tell Julia I want to see her when she comes in. What do you think about having graduation exercises for the girls who complete Julia’s training?”

  “Sounds good to me, but she’s already here. She’s been here since real early this morning.”

  “Oh, good. I can’t wait to tell her my idea.” She started to leave, then turned back and asked, “How are Thanksgiving preparations coming?”

  “We have pies made and in the freezer. Tonight we’re baking cookies. That Fawna, she’s turning into a real good cook. I showed her a thing or two about spices, and the Dragon Lady gave her some baking tips. Now, she’s got it in her head that instead of goin’ to school to learn nail art, she wants to learn how to be a chef.”

  Hope laughed, then shook her head. Every day there was something new, something exciting, and most times, something wonderful happening at J House. Again, she started to leave, only to have Celia call her back.

  “I almost forgot,” she said. “Peter Kent called. I didn’t put it on a message. He said not to call him, that he was gonna come by about lunchtime. Said he would like it if you could get everybody together. I told him I couldn’t guarantee that, but we’ll try.”

  Lunch was clam chowder and a salad of fresh greens from Celia’s garden topped with pine nuts and sliced apple and covered with raspberry vinaigrette. The crowning glory, however, was freshly baked focaccia bread.

  Peter Kent offered to say grace, after which he asked, “Since when do you have a chef here?”

  “One of our girls, Fawna, wants to be a chef. We let her work in the kitchen, and Celia and Clarice have been training her.” Hope smoothed the white tablecloth.

  “Has she ever worked in a restaurant before?”

  Clarice answered. “She did some f
ast-food cooking, but she isn’t interested in getting back into that. What we need is to find her a restaurant—a good restaurant—where she can work and train at the same time. Then she can see if she really likes cooking enough to make a career of it. Ideally, the restaurant needs to be someplace close by so she can continue to take part Julia’s class and her GED classes.”

  Peter appeared to ponder the situation. “Let me talk with the chef in our building. Maybe he would be willing to take her on.” He drank the remaining coffee in his cup. “Okay, if everybody’s ready, we need to get down to business. I have another meeting this afternoon.”

  Roger scooted his chair back. “I knew better than to think this was just a pleasant call with an old friend. Before we begin, though, I want to tell you our news about Blakely Associates.”

  “Sure.” Peter reached down to his briefcase and pulled out a file folder. He started to look through the folder, but as Roger’s story unfolded, he put the folder down on the table and gave Roger his full attention. “That’s incredible. If it hadn’t have been for Adolph … who knows what might have happened?”

  Clarice piped up, obviously eager to add to the excitement. “And Julia here has found that jerk who fleeced me! I can’t wait to go back and testify against him. I hope they put him someplace where the sun doesn’t shine!”

  “Congratulations, Julia,” Peter said. “I wish we had someone like you working in our firm. If you ever decide to practice law in California, let me know.”

  “I hear the California bar is a bear to pass.”

  “You’re a smart woman. You could do it.”

  “You’re right. I could. Thanks for the offer. Just don’t be surprised if I take you up on it.”

  “Well, now,” Peter said, “in regard to the retrofitting, it looks like you’re out of options. You’re going to have to sell J House.”

  Andy stared out the windows to the lights on the Bay Bridge. Even at this time of the night, she saw car lights blink as they crossed the final span from Treasure Island to the city. I don’t care how lovely the scenery is, I want to go home. Just today she’d read the saying “Home is where the heart is,” and she’d been thinking about it ever since. San Francisco wasn’t where her heart was, and she was doubtful it ever would be.