Aftermath

by Ann McMan

  Maddie cupped an ear and bent toward her. “Did you say something, Laverne?”

  Syd chuckled.

  Maddie glared at her. “Don’t think you’re off the hook either, Shirley.”

  “Me?” Syd pointed a finger at her own chest. “What the hell did I do?”

  “Ever heard the phrase ‘guilt by association’?”

  “That’s ridiculous. Doris was the architect of this whole thing. Wasn’t she Celine?”

  Syd looked at her accomplice. Celine was uncharacteristically slumped down in her seat. Maddie assumed her poor posture was as much an attempt to conceal the dried food stains on the front of her suit, as it was an expression of weariness.

  “As tempting as that is, Syd,” Celine began, “I can’t really blame all of this on Dorrie. I showed up there, intending to bait her, and it worked with a vengeance.”

  “You think?” Maddie asked. “The arrest of the august Dr. Heller on charges of aggravated assault is going to make quite a salacious headline in this week’s Gazette, Mom.”

  Celine waved a tired hand. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad. Dorrie would never let it go that far.”

  Maddie looked at her mother with amazement. “You’re in the joint for less than two hours, and you start talking like Lorraine Bracco?”

  Syd stifled a laugh. Maddie shot her a dirty look and focused her attention back on her mother. “What makes you so certain that Doris will drop her charges?”

  “Because the only thing she still hates worse than me, or tomato pie,” Celine chuckled, “is having her precious name associated with any kind of scandal.”

  “That’s true,” Syd agreed. “She’d pay big money to keep this out of the news.”

  Maddie sighed. “Well, according to Nadine, she’s going to have to pay big money to clean up the mess you all made at the café.”

  “How much were the damages,” Syd asked, with genuine- sounding concern.

  Maddie shrugged. “I’m not sure about the final tally. Michael said Nadine was thinking about suing her for a couple thousand. That’s as much for lost revenue as it is for actual clean up and repair.”

  “A couple thousand?” Syd waved her hand. “Are you kidding me? Doris spends more than that on brunch.”

  “That’s hardly a comfort, sweetheart.”

  “Well, it’s a moot point, anyway,” Celine said. “I already heard from Dorrie’s attorney.” She held up her cell phone. “She’s offering to drop all charges and forget the entire thing happened.”

  Syd brightened up at once. “Really? Will she pay Nadine?”

  Celine nodded. “She’s already paid Nadine. But,” she raised a finger, “she has a condition for you, Syd.”

  Syd slumped back against her chair. “Of course she does.”

  Maddie was wary. “What is it?”

  Celine took a deep breath. “Apparently, she’s willing to drop her son’s contest of the divorce, if Syd will drop her allegation of infidelity. This would allow the marriage to be dissolved without prejudice on either side.”

  Syd appeared stunned by the offer. “Why would she agree to do that?”

  “Because you and I would both sign affidavits, swearing that we will never make mention of anything that transpired today—especially my allegations about her son’s premature birth.”

  Maddie looked back and forth between them. “Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?”

  “No,” Celine and Syd replied in unison.

  Syd sat quietly for a moment, then looked at Celine. “What does this mean about the prenup?”

  Celine gave her a long, slow smile. “I think it means you just got your ten percent severance package.”

  Syd’s jaw dropped. “You mean I still get the money?”

  Maddie was really confused now. “What money?”

  Syd looked at her. “Our prenup specified that if we ever divorced without prejudice, I’d get ten percent of Jeff’s net worth.”

  “Oh,” Maddie said. “And Jeff’s net worth is?”

  “Roughly twenty-five million dollars—give or take,” Celine said.

  Maddie was speechless.

  Syd patted the top of Maddie’s hand. “Don’t worry, honey . . . I promise not to let it change me.” She laughed merrily.

  Celine slowly shook her head. “Poor Dorrie. She took all that punishment just to try and hang on to a paltry few million.”

  Maddie was still feeling shell-shocked. She looked at Syd. “Honey,” she said in a quiet voice. “That’s two-and-a-half million dollars.”

  “Tax free,” Celine added.

  Syd just smiled. “I’ve always wanted to invest in livestock.”

  Chapter 20

  THE DAY OF the inn’s grand reopening was the warmest they’d had yet. The mercury had climbed steadily all day, and by three o’clock, it was pushing seventy-two degrees—perfect for an outdoor event of this magnitude.

  Everyone in town was invited, and nearly everyone showed up. David had outdone himself with the preparations. He and Michael had actually moved back into their rebuilt bungalow the night before the party, and it was on the open-house tour, too, along with the grandly refurbished main facility.

  The Riverside Inn and its grounds were better, bolder, and more perfectly appointed than ever. Four-dozen tables dotted the big front lawn, and food and beverage stations were scattered about at precisely the right intervals. There were games for the kids and roomy Adirondack chairs for the folks who just wanted to sit and share stories about The Storm that Changed Everything.

  Today was the day that David and Michael engineered to give their friends and neighbors a chance to celebrate how much they all had survived, and how hard they each had worked to rebuild their town and their lives. Nowhere was that resiliency more apparent than in the faces of the men and women who had participated in the rebuilding of the inn. They were special guests of honor—those carpenters, electricians, plumbers, painters, landscapers, gardeners, and cleanup crews who worked so tirelessly to make today’s celebration possible.

  There were other guests of honor, too—people who had lost things that couldn’t be replaced. Deb Carlson was there, and she made a valiant effort to join in the general air of celebration—even though it was clear that her heart just wasn’t in it. More than once, Jocelyn had to go and fetch her when she wandered off down the path that led to the river.

  Gladys Pitzer was there, too, and David made sure of that by going to pick her up himself. He arranged a special seat for her at their table—right near the steps that led to the big front porch. She was antsy and nervous, but that wasn’t really a change from her normal demeanor. She distracted herself by wandering from table to table, pulling the cattails out of every arrangement.

  She’d already told David that it was the wrong time of year to be including those, but he did it anyway.

  Azalea Freemantle actually showed up, but insisted that she was going to sit in the truck until Edna left. Once Cletus managed to convince her that Edna wasn’t going to be leaving any time soon, she consented to get out of the truck, but she would only sit on a folding chair near the food kiosk that was serving Nadine’s fried chicken.

  David later commented that every time he passed her chair, he noticed more leg bones piled up on the ground beside it. Astrid actually left the sanctuary of her dog bed beneath the porch and toddled over to take up residence on the ground at Azalea’s feet. It was hard to tell whether she was guarding Azalea, or the pyramid of chicken bones, but whenever anyone got too close, she growled and beared her tiny fangs.

  Charlie Davis came wearing her Sunday best, and David punched Maddie in the ribs when he saw Edna invite her to sit down at the Freemantle’s table. He noted that Charlie was careful not to sit beside Roma Jean, and it was lucky for her that she didn’t, because it only took Roma Jean about two seconds to knock over their pitcher of iced tea. Everyone laughed, though—including Edna—and Charlie just smiled, picked up the pitcher, and walked off to se
e about getting it refilled.

  David supposed that Charlie might just be resourceful enough to survive as a companion for Roma Jean. When he said as much to Maddie, she did not disagree.

  All in all, it had been a wonderful afternoon.

  Syd and Henry were tasked with getting sticks and marshmallows ready for the big bonfire David had planned for after dinner. But first, he had a special announcement to make. He looked around to make sure that everyone he needed was in place—and that the “package” had been delivered.

  He looked toward the big outbuilding where they stored all of their outdoor furnishings and lawn equipment during the winter months. Junior was leaning against the freshly-painted bay door. David caught his eye, and Junior gave him a clandestine thumb-up sign.

  It was time.

  David walked up the big front steps and went to where they’d set up the sound system. He picked up a microphone. Michael followed him and turned off the bluegrass music they’d been playing all afternoon, then went back down to reclaim his seat.

  David faced the crowd with all the ease and panache of a sideshow barker. “Hey, y’all. Hey, there . . . Gimme your attention for just a minute or two. I promise it won’t take long. Come on . . . come on . . . stop gabbing. Azalea, put down that chicken leg. Cletus . . . you and Evelyn wanna grab her knitting bag—just to be on the safe side? Thanks.”

  He waited for the titter of conversation to die down. “That’s right . . . that’s right. It’s me. With a microphone. Be very afraid . . .”

  There was a smattering of laughter, then it quieted down enough for him to continue.

  “We’re so very happy and grateful to see so many of you here today,” David said. “Michael and I owe so much to all of you, and we wanted to say thank you for all you’ve done to help us stand here and realize our dream . . . once again. The Riverside Inn—like the town of Jericho—has been reborn. And that’s because we all understand that the things that bind us together are more than bricks and mortar. We will endure, and we will persevere because we are part of a family—and families will always reach out, dig down, roll up their sleeves, and lift each other up whenever they fall. That’s what we do because that’s who we are.”

  Someone in the crowd started clapping. Soon, it spread across the lawn like wildfire, and the whole place erupted in cheers.

  David looked out over sea of faces that he’d known most of his life. They were all there. His mama and Celine. Nelda Rae Black and the Lear Twins. Nadine, Nicorette, and Raymond. Sonny and Harold Nicks. Bert Townsend. Byron Martin. Rita, from the bowling alley. The Buford brothers. The Wives. The Sanchez family.

  Lizzy Mayes had even shown up with Syd’s handsome brother in tow.

  Finally, of course, he looked at the table where Maddie, Syd, and Henry sat with Michael. They were his family of choice.

  The whooping and hollering continued. David let the celebration go on for another minute, then he shushed the crowd. He had something else to say.

  “As much as we all lost—or nearly lost—three months ago, one of us stands out as the person who sacrificed the most. And I don’t think it’s hard to figure out who I mean.” He saw the object of his remarks, walked to the top of the steps, and pointed at her. “Deb Carlson. Come on up here.”

  The crowd parted like a fork in the New River as a Deb slowly and warily made her way to the porch. She was short and wiry with gray-streaked hair, but she looked hard as iron. She stopped short at the bottom of the steps and looked up at David with a mixture of fear and suspicion. David knew not to press her. Deb was small but feisty, and she was famous for her ability to bench press an Oldsmobile.

  “Deb, you lost something you loved in the storm, and we all bore witness to that. In fact,” David looked out at the crush of townspeople, “how many of us here have pieces of Deb’s beloved Camaro? Let’s see a show of hands.”

  So many arms waved in the air, it looked like Sunday night at the Pentecostal Holiness Church.

  “Look around you, Deb. These are your friends and neighbors, and your great loss became the bridge that brought us all back together. It unified us. It made us laugh. It filled us with excitement and hope, and it became an icon for our drive to endure.”

  He walked down the steps and stood just beside her.

  “So we want to say thank you, Deb. Thank you for your great sacrifice, and thank you for giving us so many bright spots in the midst of so much loss and so much hard work.”

  He looked down the wide, open path the crowd had made, and gave the high sign. Everyone stood quietly, waiting. Deb was taking anxious looks at David, then back at the crowd. Behind her, Jocelyn was wearing about the biggest smile David had ever seen on a human being’s face.

  Then, they all heard it . . . the sound of a car starting. Every head in the crowd swung toward the shed. The next sound they heard was the unmistakable rumble of a 350 horsepower, big block V-8 engine. It was backed up by the sheer poetry of a four-barrel, Holley carburetor.

  Deb turned pale and started to shake.

  Zeke Dawkins and Bert Townsend rolled back the big bay door on the shed. Inside the dark interior, two headlights glowed like tractor beams.

  Behind the wheel, Junior gunned the big engine a few times for effect before he shifted the four-speed Muncie transmission into gear and took the perfectly reconditioned, blazing red, 1968 Chevy Camaro SS for the shortest, but most important, drive of its life.

  Tears streamed down Deb’s face. David turned to her and held out a duplicate set of keys.

  “Miss Carlson,” he said. “I think your ride is here.”

  And the crowd went wild . . .

  HOW FAST THINGS started to happen after she put James Lawrence in contact with Junior made Maddie’s head spin. She felt like she was ten years old again, riding the Tilt-a-Whirl platform at Pacific Park in Santa Monica. Only now, it was time that was spinning faster and faster outside her control. She couldn’t make it stop—any more than she could slow it down.

  James Lawrence jumped at the chance to take a position as an auto mechanic at Junior’s. Maddie really didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect when she told him about Junior’s offer, but James quickly expressed interest in relocating to Troutdale and taking the job. He explained that he didn’t really have any ties anyplace else. He couldn’t return to California to live, and since his mother was now in full-time nursing care, he didn’t have a home in Kannapolis to return to. He was also realistic enough to know that he’d have an easier time managing Henry in an area where his son had so many close connections—especially with Maddie and Syd.

  He eagerly accepted Junior’s offer of the apartment, too, even though he knew that living out there would mean that Henry would have to change schools. The apartment wasn’t furnished, but Junior was connecting James with a local chapter of the Vietnam Vets, and they were going to get him started with the bare necessities. Maddie had to fight an impulse to tell James that she would furnish the damn place herself, but she knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. After so much time away, James wanted the chance to make a life with Henry on his own. She did make it clear, however, that she and Syd were available to help out in any way they could.

  Walter Reed was discharging James on Thursday. He was traveling first to Kannapolis to see his mother and to pick up his car, then his plan was to drive himself to Jericho to spend time getting reacquainted with Henry and spend a couple of days getting situated in the apartment near Junior’s.

  James had already made contacts in the area. The Bureau of Veteran’s Affairs had a community-based outreach clinic in Wytheville, where he could continue his outpatient therapy. The VA Medical Center in Salem, which was about an hour north of there, would be his primary resource, should he require any more serious care.

  James would start his new job at Junior’s a week after arriving. He would work a few hours each day—just to see how things went and to be sure he had enough stamina to manage the demands of the job.

 
He was confident that he would soon be able to resume a full-time work schedule—he was strong and healthy, and he’d worked very hard to adjust to life with an artificial limb. He admitted that he sometimes had bouts of what he called depression, but he was certain that these would diminish once he was able to resume a more normal life out of the hospital and away from the regular army. And he was determined to have things as squared away as possible before taking Henry on a more permanent basis. He told Maddie that if things proceeded according to plan, he thought he should be ready to have Henry join him in Troutdale as early as the following Wednesday.

  This meant that Maddie and Syd had fewer than seven days left with the boy who had been the nexus of their lives for the past year and a half.

  That left them in a quandary. They needed to explain to Henry that his father was coming home, but that Henry would be living with him someplace else. They both understood that, all along, Henry had indulged a fantasy that his daddy would one day live with all of them on the farm. After all . . . it was big enough. There were enough bedrooms—even when Uncle David and Uncle Michael still lived there.