Someone Knows

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Someone Knows Page 8

by Lisa Scottoline


  “Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.” Julian had to see what was going on at Sasha’s house.

  “Do you want me to put it on pause? I can wait.”

  “No, you keep watching.” Julian fled for the powder room, which had a great view of the Barrows’ house.

  He hit the powder room and closed the door behind him, leaving the light off and parting the curtain to look out the window. Zachary and Sasha got out of the car holding cups of Rita’s water ice. Sasha would have gotten the lemon with bits of rind, that’s how well he knew her. Zachary put his arm around Sasha and walked her to her front door. Julian could see them clearly under the light. Zachary kissed Sasha, and she kissed him back, and Julian thought he was going to throw up.

  His mother shouted from the family room, “Honey, you sure you don’t want me to put it on pause?”

  “No, keep watching!”

  “Are you okay in there?”

  “Yes!” Julian shot back, trying not to sound angry, though he wanted to put his hand through the window. Sasha was giving Zachary another long kiss, which had to be with tongues, then she let him go and went inside her house. It pissed Julian off that Zachary got to make out with Sasha when he was supposed to, this very night. It made him crazy, and he wondered if she’d kissed Zachary outside so he could see. Even though she toyed with him, he couldn’t help the way he felt about her. She was his obsession, like in that song by Fine Young Cannibals. She drives me crazy like no one else.

  “Honey?” his mom called out again. “You’re missing the movie! It’s so cute!”

  “My stomach is upset! I’ll be out in a little bit!” Julian flushed the toilet for show, let the water run so his mother would hear it, and returned to the window, but the scene at Sasha’s house had changed. Another guy stood on Sasha’s front step, and Julian had no idea who he was. It wasn’t Zachary, and it must’ve been somebody on foot, but Julian couldn’t make out any details because it was too dark. All he could see was the man’s back, and Sasha opened the front door, threw her arms wide, and hugged the guy. Then the guy went inside the house, and Sasha closed the front door.

  Julian didn’t know what the hell was going on. Did Sasha have two dates tonight? Was this the ultimate move to drive him crazy? The Dude would have said, This aggression will not stand, man.

  “Honey?” His mother knocked on the door, and Julian jumped to lock it.

  “Mom, jeez, I’m coming out right now!”

  “Why do you have the lights off? It’s dark underneath the door.”

  “Mom, I don’t need lights. I know where my dick is.”

  “No need to cuss, and you’ll miss the seat if you pee in the dark.”

  “I’m not peeing! Mom, jeez!” Julian opened the door. “I said my stomach was upset. That means I was pooping.”

  His mother’s eyes flared. “Do you want me to get a Tums? Or some Kaopectate? Was it diarrhea?”

  “No, I’m fine, really.” Julian walked past her into the family room and looked out the window to see what was going on at Sasha’s house. The light was still on in their family room, so Sasha was in there with that new guy.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Let’s watch the movie.” Julian flopped onto the sectional, and so did his mother.

  “But you missed the beginning.”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “I can tell you, from the box. Okay, so Meg Ryan owns an independent bookstore and Tom Hanks owns a big chain bookstore and they talk on that computer thing you go on, AOL—”

  Julian zoned out as his mother droned on and they watched the movie, and after about half an hour, he could see the new guy leaving Sasha’s house. Sasha hugged the guy goodbye, then he walked down her front walk. Julian couldn’t see his face or his features. The guy was a silhouette backlit by the portico light, but he was tall, so he could be older. Maybe in college.

  Julian watched as the new guy took a left, then turned the corner. Who the hell was the man? Where was his car? Why did he park away from the house, to avoid being seen? Or did he walk to Sasha’s? Did that mean he lived in Brandywine Hunt? Where? Julian knew the streets behind Sasha’s house: Palomino, Hanoverian, Andalusian, and Welsh Cob Drive. It had been his idea to name them after horse breeds because it had been a horse farm.

  “Julian, watch the movie. I think they’re going to fall in love.”

  “Terrific,” Julian said, forcing a smile.

  CHAPTER 15

  Bill Hybrinski

  Darkness fell outside the kitchen window, and Bill Hybrinski eyed the calculator. He’d gone over his cost of goods, rent, payroll, utilities, inventory, and township, state, and federal taxes. He couldn’t deny the obvious any longer. He’d have to go out of business.

  Hybrinski Optical spreadsheets cluttered the table. He’d wracked his brain over what he could’ve done differently, but there was nothing. He was a member of the Pennsylvania opticians’ guild and followed the Tips of the Trade. He’d painted his store blue (a welcoming hue) from beige (avoid beige). His frame displays were innovative, like the sportsman’s display with the picture of Bambi and the sign KEEP HUNTING AND/OR FISHING FOR SUNGLASSES FOR YOUR OUTDOOR SPORT! He’d trained his staff to upsell lenses to polarized, antireflective, or Transitions. He’d trimmed his operating expenses by cutting out Vision Expo, audited his lab and frame statements to make sure he was credited for warranty items, and held sales to turn over his inventory. None of it worked.

  Bill eyed the spreadsheets without really seeing them. It was the end of a dream, one he had grown up with. He was from Milwaukee and had worked in one of the Stein Drugs stores in high school, where he met Marty Stein himself. Bill admired Marty Stein the way other boys admired baseball players, and when Marty sold his chain to Walgreens, Bill decided that someday he would be Marty. Marty founded Stein Optical with sixteen stores and had just sold it to Eye Care Centers of America, almost four hundred stores in thirty-six states. Bill would’ve settled for a fraction of Marty Stein’s success, but it wasn’t to be.

  “Hey, honey!” Marianne entered the kitchen with the twins. He thought of them as his girls, a yappy trio of double ponytails, Browne’s T-shirts, and jean shorts. They’d had a softball game tonight against West Chester Automotive, but he’d missed it to work late, sitting in his empty store.

  “Hey, Dad! Hey, Dad!” Jessica and Jennifer called out, their lips stained with cherry water ice. Twins didn’t run in their families, so Jessica and Jennifer had been a surprise. Like life itself, a series of surprises that cost you money you didn’t have.

  “Hello, beauties! How was the game?” Bill tried to look happy when the twins scooted over, and he gave them big hugs. He kissed the tops of their heads, he could swear their hair smelled like strawberry shampoo and Big Macs.

  “We won! Yay! Yay!”

  “Yay! Yay!” Bill cheered. They always said yay-yay because there were two of them.

  “We got you some fries.” Marianne came over with a weary grin, her light brown hair in a ponytail. She had round hazel eyes, a fine nose, and a warm, omnipresent smile, which was the reason he married her. Marianne Dunn was simply the most positive person he’d ever met, always upbeat. A born teacher, she said. But her salary only supplemented his income, which supported the family, or used to. He didn’t know how he’d tell her the truth.

  “Thanks.” Bill opened the French fry bag, which released a mouthwatering smell. He popped a fry in his mouth. “You guys feasted, eh? McDonald’s and Rita’s.”

  “How’s it going?” Marianne bent over, kissed him on the cheek, then surveyed the bills scattered around him.

  “Great,” Bill answered, because the twins were here.

  “Okay, girls. Go get showered and into your pajamas. Vamoose!” Marianne got them moving, and the twins hustled out of the kitchen.

  Bill watched them go, thinking that parenthood was all about momentum.

  “How’d the game go?”

  �
�Jennifer got two hits, and the other one got one.” Marianne smiled. “I forget her name.”

  “It begins with a J.” Bill managed to smile back. They both called the kids the wrong names all the time.

  “Want some coffee?” Marianne leaned on the wall and took off her sneakers.

  “Love some, thanks.” Bill closed the checkbook, and Marianne padded to the counter.

  “Where’s David?”

  “Take a guess,” Bill answered, more sharply than he’d intended. “Up in his room reading Infinite Jest, which is infinite, but not a jest.”

  “He’s been in his room a lot lately. Or out riding his bike.”

  “He did that earlier.”

  Marianne poured some coffee beans into the grinder. “He’s less plugged in, don’t you think?”

  “Nah, he’s fine.”

  “Where’s Jason?” Marianne turned on the grinder, and it churned noisily. When it stopped, she spooned the grinds into the coffeemaker.

  “Working late.”

  “Poor thing.”

  “Lucky dog.” Bill knew that came out wrong.

  “What did you have for dinner?” Marianne poured water into the coffeemaker and hit BREW.

  “Cap’n Crunch. Does that count?”

  “Works for me.”

  Bill forced a smile. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, a large rectangle ringed with oak cabinets and the island with a marble countertop. Top-of-the-line appliances and bay windows over the backyard. He’d never lived in a house this nice.

  “So how bad is it?” Marianne gestured at the bills.

  “Bad.”

  “How bad?”

  “You need to sit down first.”

  “Tell me.”

  Bill took a deep breath. “I have to close the store.”

  “For real?” Marianne kept her expression of loving interest. She never let herself get down, no matter how bad things got.

  “For real.”

  “You can’t let any more people go?”

  “No. I’m down to two, the doctor and me. I do everything I used to pay for. Yesterday, I cleaned the display cases.”

  “Maybe it’s not that bad?”

  “Honey, it is. It’s over.” Bill loved her so much it hurt, and it broke his heart that he had let her down. And the kids.

  “But why?”

  “My sales are down, almost half, for the past three quarters. I can’t survive that.”

  “Won’t they go back up?”

  “I doubt it. The optical business has changed too much, honey. You’ve heard me complain. It used to be mom-and-pop stores like me, with a thousand square feet in a strip mall. I can’t compete with LensCrafters and its eight hundred stores, with national advertising and one-hour service guarantees. They’re driving customers to them. They do a billion in sales.”

  “But you’re the neighborhood guy.”

  “There’s no neighborhood anymore. Nobody lives in Meghan’s Run. We live in developments and we shop in strip malls and malls.”

  “But people still go to you. Everyone we know.”

  “That’s not enough.” Bill hated putting this on her, this way. “I’m losing entire families now, because of managed care. It happened overnight. I’m still trying to recover. I’ve told you about that.”

  “I didn’t really understand. I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  “Right.” Bill knew he had hidden it from her. He hadn’t wanted her to worry. “Okay, take Vanguard, the biggest employer around here. They deal with a company that packages eyecare benefits, like Davis Vision, for example. Their package includes glasses, contacts, and routine exams. Almost half of my customers are now members of that plan.”

  “Okay.”

  “I can either accept the plan or not. If I don’t, the customers go elsewhere. So does the entire family.”

  Marianne frowned. “Then why don’t you accept it?”

  “I do, but it only pays me forty bucks for a routine eye exam. I used to charge seventy, and that’s not unreasonable, at all. And I have more paperwork than I ever used to because I have to verify the benefits, enter it into the system, and make sure I get paid. They’re always a slow pay.” Bill couldn’t sugarcoat it any longer. “I spend half my time managing my accounts receivable now. I don’t have the money to hire anybody to do the paperwork.”

  “I can do that.” Marianne smiled in an encouraging way, which only made Bill feel worse.

  “Thanks, but no, honey. I know you could, but it wouldn’t make a difference. I don’t have the sales, the revenue. There simply isn’t enough money coming in.”

  “So what can we do?”

  Bill braced himself. “We have to sell the house. The mortgage is a killer.”

  “Bill, no.” Marianne moaned.

  “Honey, I’m sorry, but we have no other choice. We bought here when we were high on the hog. We have to move out and downsize.”

  “But what about the rent on the store?” Marianne walked to the table with the two coffees, putting one in front of him. She sat down with the other.

  “What about it? I was talking about the mortgage, which is $2,450.”

  “I know, but how much is the rent on the store?”

  “The business pays it, and it’s $1,950. Lee’s giving up, too.”

  “The mattress store is going out of business?” Marianne grimaced. “When did that happen?”

  “A few days ago. I forgot to tell you.”

  “You didn’t want to tell me.”

  “That, too.” Bill met her eye, crestfallen. He had failed her and the kids. If his father wasn’t already dead, he would die of shame. Bill’s father had been a self-employed plumber, with pride to spare. Always be your own boss, he’d said.

  “So you’re at the point of no return? The worst-case scenario?”

  “Yes. Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Bill chuckled, but it came out like a hiccup.

  “What I mean is, desperate times call for desperate measures.” Marianne took a quick sip of coffee. “I have an idea.”

  “Your last idea was skip the condom.”

  “That’s not funny.” Marianne frowned.

  Bill had to remind himself not to joke about that. Marianne worried that the twins would hear. Bill figured that, sooner or later, the twins would realize they were six years younger than David and put two and two together.

  “Keep an open mind.” Marianne leaned forward. “Scott Browne owns your strip mall, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So he’s your landlord?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Bill answered cautiously.

  “So all you have to do is call Scott, get a meeting, and ask him to forgive a few months of rent—”

  “Honey, no.” Bill felt crushed. Scott Browne had turned out to be Marty Stein, not him.

  “Bill, think about it.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “You don’t know until you try. Everybody needs a hand, sometimes.”

  Bill shuddered. “Not me.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s why you’re hard on the boys.”

  Bill sipped his coffee, which tasted bitter. He knew he was hard on Jason and David, but that was to prepare them. You had to be bulletproof to provide for a family. God knew, he was living that right now.

  “Bill, all you need to do is call Scott. We’re friends. We’ve been over to the house plenty of times, and they’ve been here.”

  “In better days.”

  “That doesn’t matter. They got divorced. They don’t throw those parties anymore. Times change.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “The point is we’re friends. Scott has to be feeling the pressure, too. If Lee and you are going out of business, where does that leave Scott’s company?”

  Bill felt his shoulders fall. “You want me to go to Scott Browne with my hat in my hand?”

  “Such an o
ld-time expression.”

  Bill knew it was his father talking.

  “Scott’s in a position to help us, and you know he wants to.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Nobody in business wants to help each other. What do you think, it’s a sharing circle, like school?”

  “Don’t be condescending.” Marianne pursed her lips. “You’re kind of in business with him.”

  “No, he’s in business for himself, and so am I. I sign the check, and Browne Land Management is the payee. I pay him.”

  “How can it hurt to ask?”

  “It’s humiliating,” Bill blurted out, feeling his face redden.

  “You know what’s more humiliating? Us losing everything.” Marianne’s eyes glistened, which killed Bill.

  “We wouldn’t lose everything, honey.”

  “We’d lose the house. This house, our house, our home that we worked so hard for. We live in Brandywine Hunt. We made it to the Radnor Hunt section. It’s all we have to leave the kids. It’s stability. It’s a school district. It’s their friends. Their bus route. My friends, my job—everything centers around this house.”

  “It’s just a house—”

  “No, it’s not. What about Hybrinski Optical? Is it just a business?”

  Bill blinked. He realized that the business meant everything to him, and the house meant everything to her.

  “If you want to keep the business, you have to fight for it. Swallow your pride.” Marianne touched his hand. “If Scott cut you a break on the store rent, would it help?”

  Bill felt his heartbeat quicken. Maybe he could make magic happen. He would love not to throw in the towel. Hybrinskis never give up, his father used to say. “Possibly.”

  “Then please, ask him.” Marianne took his hand. “Just do it.”

  “That’s the Nike slogan, honey.”

  “And look where they are now, huh?”

  CHAPTER 16

  Barb Gallagher

  Barb dragged the mattress upstairs with her best friend, Sharon Kelly, helping her, since Kyle wasn’t home. Sharon was slim, pretty, and African-American, with her hair smoothed into a low ponytail, her dark eyes set wide, and a round face with an easy smile. Except for now, with the effort of moving the mattress.

 

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