Woulds

by J. L. Wilson

  Alan went back into the tiny hall and opened the door to the bathroom, a long, narrow rectangular space. A claw-foot tub with shower arm above, a toilet, a tiny sink were all immaculately white and shining in a room with pale green walls.

  “There’s even a closet here.” He opened what appeared to be a wall to reveal a ten-foot length of closet space in which my clothes were neatly aligned, shoes underneath and my two spare purses hanging on a hook. “It’s not convenient in the bedroom, so that’s why we got the wardrobe. And see.” He pulled aside a four-foot tall screen at the far end of the space to reveal a covered litter box. “Kitty place.”

  I gaped at it, and at him. “But when did this all get done? The last time I saw this place it was a mess.” I turned around the tiny but glowing bathroom, light streaming in from the tall windows over the bathtub.

  “All night. We got started on it before you fell asleep.” He touched the tub and rubbed his fingers. “We finished about an hour ago. The two drugstores in town donated the shower curtain and all the other stuff.” He pulled open the old-fashioned medicine chest to show me the bottles of aspirin, boxes of bandages, tweezers, nail files, and other assorted bathroom miscellany.

  “But—but—”

  “Come here, let me show you this, it’s really cool.” He led me back to the bedroom and picked up a remote control from the low bedside table. “See, it controls your heating and air conditioning. It’s one of those special self-contained units. I figured the temperature up here might be iffy because there’s only radiator heat and you know we keep it cool downstairs. And in the summer it’s liable to be warm because of all the windows.”

  “It feels comfortable now. And it’s so full of light. How?”

  He clicked a few buttons and I noticed a large white box set high on the wall began to hum. Cool air drifted to us. “See. It’s called a ductless air system. You can heat or cool each room individually.” He pointed to a booklet on the side table. “Read all about it. Come on. Let me show you how the TV works.”

  I followed him into the living room and sank onto the sofa, onto my sofa, twisting on the seat to examine the space. “Oh, who did that?” I pointed to the two kitty condos, one positioned at each window above the street below.

  “John did. He said you needed matching cat furniture.”

  I sat back. “But why? Why would all these people help me?” I turned to Alan.

  “At one time or another, you’ve helped almost everybody in town.”

  “Oh, no.” I leaned forward to examine the wooden steamer trunk which served as a coffee table. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “Sure you have. You’ve listened to the woes of the world while bartending.” He stood near a window, smiling at me. “I think you need to eat your words.”

  “What?”

  “Remember when I said people can surprise us by the good in them, too? You didn’t believe me, did you?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak.

  “Guess we proved you wrong.”

  I stared around the room, awestruck. “You sure did. I don’t know what to say.”

  He sat down and put an arm around my shoulders. “You deserve it, Tuck. You’ve never asked anybody for any help. This time we decided to help you whether you want it or not.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Alan.”

  The loud clanking of the elevator broke our tender moment. I twisted around at the sound but grimaced when I found I couldn’t twist because of bruising. “Damn, I can’t wait to feel better,” I griped while I stood.

  “We’ll have to get a key for the elevator,” Alan said. “You need privacy up here and security.” He walked to the small foyer and I followed.

  We waited as the elevator made its laborious descent then reversed itself to rise up. When the door finally opened, the packed space emptied of people, laughing. “Send it back for more,” Lee Knight said as he left. “We’ve got a crowd waiting downstairs.”

  “I’ll take it down and get back to work.” Alan kissed me on the cheek. “Enjoy your new digs, Tuck.”

  I was swept into the living room on the tide of people who all told me how they conspired to get the apartment ready for me in record time. I discovered that my liquor cabinet, an old refinished icebox near the kitchen, was fully stocked and soon the elevator disgorged another group and a party was in full swing, complete with cake, snacks, and music provided by a new portable MP3 player stuck into portable speakers.

  “I can’t believe you guys did all this,” I said for the hundredth time to another townsperson who gleefully showed me yet another feature of my new apartment. “I’m overwhelmed.”

  “We were happy to help. Heck, everybody has something they can donate, even if it’s only their time. I’m so glad you like the color. John Smalley thought you’d like green.”

  “Where is John?” I looked around the crowded room.

  “Oh, he’ll be by later, I’m sure. He was here all night, painting and cleaning and directing traffic. Between him and Alan, we knew this place would be finished in time.”

  I drifted to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, still marveling that all of this was mine. I now had a place to live. I didn’t have to worry about going back and trying to forget all that happened in my house. I could stay here, get the house ready to sell, and not have to worry about a mortgage payment once I sold the house.

  Well, of course, I did have a mortgage payment. We had the loan on the building, but it was the Acorn’s mortgage, not mine. I made a mental note to talk to Alan and Miller about that and see if I couldn’t chip in more, since now I owned a residential interest in the place.

  Rob Huntington poked his head around the corner. “There she is, the woman of the hour.” He came into the room, a drink in hand. “How are you feeling? I heard you were in a car accident and in the hospital. What the heck happened?”

  “Car accident, home invasion. You name it, I’ve had it.” I raised my hands to take in the immaculate little kitchen. “And now here I am. How are you doing?” He seemed exhausted, but at least it appeared he’d shaved and showered at some point, because he no longer was wrinkled and tired.

  He shrugged. “I’m hanging in there. Waiting for the axe to fall, I guess.”

  My good cheer began to evaporate. “You mean at the factory?”

  He nodded and took a sip of the amber-colored liquid in his glass. “You’ve got a lot of great friends. People donated almost everything. What wasn’t donated, Alan or John bought.” He examined the small stove, a miniature apartment-sized model in sparkling white. “A tragedy like what happened to you really shows you who your friends are.”

  “I was totally shocked by what happened to me at my house but I think I’m even more shocked by how generous people have been. I had no idea people would help me like this.”

  Rob frowned, eyeing the dishes stacked on the counter. “Who gave you these?”

  “Isabel Fitz. She said she didn’t use them anymore. Aren’t they pretty?” I didn’t tell him what was in the note Isabel tucked in one of the elegant coffee cups. I hope you enjoy using this china, Tuck. PJ bought it for me a long time ago and I never got around to using it. I suspected more of a story than her simple explanation, but I wasn’t going to pry unless Isabel offered more information. I planned to enjoy the pretty floral pattern on the Noritake dishes, a big step up from the department store ceramic dishes I used to have for daily use.

  “I wonder what people would do if it was me in trouble,” Rob said, taking a swallow from the glass in his hand.

  “What?” I dragged my attention from the china and back to Rob.

  “You see how people came out of the woodwork to help you. I wonder if the same thing would happen if it was me.”

  I stared at him, confused. “I’m sure they would, Rob.”

  “Would they?”

  He seemed profoundly depressed by the idea. “Pray you never need to find out,” I said. “Believe me, you don’t want
to have your house trashed in order to find how people feel.”

  He took another swallow of liquor. “Why was it done, do you know?”

  “I have no idea. I think it has the police stumped, too.”

  “The police?”

  “Yes, the police. They were over there, taking fingerprints and pictures and God knows what. I know I saw some footprints in the flour tossed all over the place, and the print was a much bigger size than mine.” I held up my foot, wiggling it so he could see my size five sneaker. “Given all the forensic gadgets they’ve got, I’m pretty sure they’ll track down the person who did it. Heck, I’ll bet they can tell what cow the shit came from. At least, that’s the way it seems like on TV when they do their forensic stuff.”

  “Cow?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I never thought of that. I mean, I never figured the police would investigate.”

  “Holy crap, of course they would. What did you think I’d do, pack up and run away?” He must be really drunk if that’s what he thought. “John said it wasn’t only a malicious prank, and I agree. It was personal and it was targeted at me. Of course I called the police.”

  “John? John Smalley? He saw it?” Rob took another swallow, dribbling some onto his chin. He wiped the dampness with the sleeve of his pale yellow shirt.

  “Yes, he drove me home from the hospital.”

  “Hospital?”

  “Car accident, remember?” How many drinks did he have? I’d need a lock for the liquor cabinet if I wasn’t careful.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s right.” He seemed to perk up, nodding vigorously. “I heard Guy hit you yesterday morning. Have the police arrested him?”

  I frowned. “I don’t know. So much has happened between now and then, I sort of lost track.” I made a mental note to ask Alan or Owen about it. “The last I heard, somebody mentioned the police had a search warrant and they were at his house.”

  “Why would he want to hurt you?” Rob asked.

  “I have no idea. I also have no idea why he’d want to steal my purse.” I shook my head, exasperated anew at all I lost when someone took my purse. “I spent an hour today trying to get replacement identification and credit cards. Tomorrow I’ll tackle the cell phone. There’s no way I can go back and get my backups, though.” As soon as I said it, I wanted to take the words back. Well, why does it matter who I tell? I turned in the files, so I’m off the hook.

  “Really? You carry backups in your purse?” Rob’s voice was faintly mocking.

  “Yep. Lucky for me, it wasn’t the only copy of some really important files.”

  He took another swallow of his drink. “Yeah, lucky you. How bad was it at your house? What about your home computer? Maybe you can get your backups there.”

  “No, the computer was trashed. But the backup I stored in the house is fine. Now the police have it, so I don’t have to worry anymore.” I started to move past him to rejoin the party. Rob stood in my way, though, filling the small kitchen with his inert body.

  He seemed to shake himself from his trance. “You made backups of your backups?” He tilted his head and frowned, obviously confused.

  “Yeah. Silly, but I’m glad I did it. What’s the word about PJ’s death? Have you heard anything else? Did you talk to Richard Fitz? How’s it going at the factory?”

  “We talked by phone,” Rob said. “I haven’t seen him, yet. I’m sure if I could talk to him in person, if I tell him what PJ did, maybe Richard and I can figure a way to handle it.”

  “Don’t you think the best way to handle it would be by telling the truth for a change?” Marianne asked from the doorway.

  Awkward. Feuding husband and wife at the same party. Oops. I attempted to alleviate the tension. “Marianne, thank you so much for the desk.” I moved to her side, hoping she’d go with me, back into the living room, away from her drunken husband. “I’m sure I’ll get so much use from it.”

  “You’re welcome, Tuck,” she said perfunctorily. “Well, Rob?” Marianne seemed to float when she moved, the effect of her gossamer skirt composed of many layers of lightweight, sheer pink-flowered cloth. “Why don’t you tell the truth for once?”

  “You’re a fine one to talk about truth, Marianne,” Rob said in a controlled, low voice. “You’ve lied to yourself and to me all your life.” His eyes went to her hand and the ruby ring. “You lied about that. Guy gave it to you, didn’t he? Why did you lie about that?”

  Oh, boy. We’re hitting too close to the bone here. Time to break this up. “This isn’t really the time or the place to discuss this.” I held up my uninjured hand. “I’m sure you both have a grief or two you’d like to air, but don’t you think you should save it for a marriage counselor?”

  “Counseling?” Marianne’s voice dripped with disdain. “Why would I bother? Rob has lied to me since the day we got married. Why would I believe anything he said in a counseling session? You told me we were broke, Rob. Why did you lie about that?”

  “What?” I turned from her to Rob. “You said you were broke.”

  “We aren’t,” Marianne snapped. “He wanted me to think it.”

  “You don’t know how bad it is,” Rob said. “Guy told me to invest—”

  “Guy did nothing of the kind. He told me all about it.” Marianne seemed afire with indignation. “Right before he left town, he told me how you lied.”

  “What do you mean?” Rob asked, eyes narrowed and his shoulders taut. All trace of drunkenness was gone. He seemed as predatory as Marianne was angry.

  “He told me about the bank account you set up. You saved all the money you got from the sale of the hardware store. There were no debts to clear up. You lied to me.”

  This is getting bad. “I think you need to take this somewhere else.”

  “Why do you believe Guy but not me?” Rob demanded. He advanced on Marianne, his fists clenched.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” I stepped between the two of them. “Marianne, you go to the living room right now. Rob, back off.”

  Rob tried to grab Marianne’s arm. I pushed at him and banged my broken fingers against his shoulder, almost fainting from pain. “Damn it, Rob, get back,” I wheezed.

  Marianne was suddenly jerked to one side and John Smalley filled the doorway, his white shirt strained across his chest, emphasizing his heavy forearms. “Go sit down, Marianne,” he rumbled. He turned to me. “Need some help, Tuck?”

  I nodded gratefully. “Keep Rob in here while I get rid of Marianne.”

  “No problem.” John crossed his arms, fixing Rob with a steady gaze. “Relax.”

  I went to the living room in time to see Marianne disappearing into the foyer, joining some other guests getting in to the elevator. I returned to the kitchen. “She’s gone.” I stared at Rob, who glared at John. “What did she mean about the money, Rob? You told me you were broke.”

  “It’s none of your damn business,” he snarled, brushing past me and almost knocking me over when he bolted from the room.

  “It makes no sense. Marianne is talking about secret bank accounts. What the hell is going on?”

  “I have no idea, Tuck.” John regarded me shyly. “Do you like your new place?”

  “John, I love it.” I impulsively reached over and tried to hug him. Of course, there was so much of him it was hard to do.

  He returned the hug, not squeezing much, which was good because I was bruised just about everywhere he might squeeze. “Good.” He stared down at me and I looked up at him.

  I almost got up on my tiptoes to kiss him. I saw his hesitation then his head began to bend to meet me. But someone called my name so I left, glancing back at him. He winked at me.

  Hmm. My future might be getting interesting.

  Chapter 16

  I spent what remained of Wednesday evening settling into my new apartment. The guests were gone by nine o’clock when Alan brought the kittens and my few belongings from his house. He lingered for a while, help
ing me clean up from my Welcome party.

  While we washed dishes, I told him about Rob and Marianne’s argument. “Rob gave me this big sob story about how broke he was and now Marianne is saying he’s got money salted away. What’s that all about?”

  “How would Marianne know?” Alan asked. “Unless Rob chose to share information with her, the only way she’d find out is if he died and she inherited, right?”

  I considered it. “True. If he opened accounts in his own name, she might not ever know. Wouldn’t it be awful, to be married to someone and then discover he’s living a double life?”

  “And especially for Marianne.” Alan folded his dishtowel and hung it on the stove handle. “Don’t forget, she waited years to marry Rob because he said he didn’t have enough money. I think she finally gave him an ultimatum and it’s what pushed him into marriage. I’m sure she’s regretted it all these years because if she played her cards right, she could have married Guy and lived in the lap of luxury.”

  “Poor Rob. And poor Marianne.” I took my wine glass and went into my living room. My living room. “Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to my new armchairs.

  “Nope. You’re tired and so am I.” Alan yawned. “I was up most of the night decorating. You know, John did a lot of the work himself. I think he has his eye on you.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t play matchmaker, Alan.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s needed. I think John will take care of it all by himself.”

  I smiled while I walked with him to the elevator. This place already felt like home, with magazines from my house on the coffee table and a kitten curled up on each condo, a small heap of fur silhouetted against the window. “Thank you so much for doing this, Alan. It means a lot to me.”

  “I was glad to do it, Tuck. Now don’t forget. Miller will set the security alarm when he closes the Pub tonight. I’m usually the first one here in the morning so I’ll deactivate it. If you need to go out in between those times, punch in the security code in the restaurant and leave.”