Harvey Holds His Own

by Colleen Nelson

  She’s not worried about the threat of another animal. She flexes her sharp claws and arches her humped back. The fur bristles. She too has a small black nose finely tuned to decipher scents. She catches Harvey’s odor. He’s well-groomed, so his scent carries none of her untamed, forest smells.

  The raccoon isn’t looking for a fight, but she’s a survivor. She doesn’t have an owner to care for her or protect her, or a warmly lit home to retreat to. She will be patient and stalk the space until the right moment arises for her to make a move.

  But one thing is for sure. No curious little dog is going to get in her way.

  Chapter 36

  Austin

  My palms were sweating by the time I got to Brayside. I’d come up with a plan to save Grandpa’s job. It wasn’t that complicated; it was the going-behind-his-back part that kept me up at night. In the end, it wasn’t me who was going to save his job anyway, it was a bunch of old people.

  I’d run through the what-ifs. What if they didn’t want to? I mean, some of them had been retired for over twenty years or had never worked at all. What if they thought not working would be good for Grandpa?

  What if they didn’t want any part of this plan? They lived at Brayside because it made their lives easier and here I was complicating it.

  But the scariest what-if was: What if Charlie was right? What if Grandpa wasn’t doing a good job? Maybe his age was catching up with him and I hadn’t noticed?

  “Hey, Austin,” Artie says. He’s got Mrs. Kowalski in a wheelchair.

  I do a double take because that’s not usual for her. “What happened?”

  “Took a bit of a tumble this morning,” Artie says. “Her ankle is sprained.”

  “Bob left his slippers right in the middle of the floor,” she grumbles. “I could’ve broken a hip!” It’s true. Old people’s bones are brittle. Grandpa says when old people fall they don’t bounce like I do; they often break bones. A broken hip is bad news for them. I’ve seen a few people go straight up to the second floor after that injury.

  “But don’t worry, Austin. Artie’s bringing me into the games room early so I can get a seat at the front.” It’s hard to keep a secret at Brayside. I told Louise my plan yesterday, which means by now everyone will have heard it. Seeing Mrs. Kowalski so committed lifts my spirits. All the what-ifs fade away.

  “Louise and I went door-to-door this morning,” Artie says. “To let everyone know. We posted a sign too.” He nods to the activities bulletin board where a black-and-white computer- printed sign is taped up. free bake goods is in big letters and underneath it reads: Join us in the Games Room for a resident sing-along!

  “The free baking was Mrs. O’Brien’s idea. She’s been making muffins all day.”

  Mrs. Kowalski turns in the chair to look at me. “Listen, dear. We’re going to do everything we can to make sure things stay the same around here.” She gives me an encouraging smile.

  “Where’s Charlie?” I ask.

  “Louise took a peek at his schedule. He left for a meeting earlier today and won’t be back.”

  “And Grandpa?”

  “Don’t worry about him. He hates sing-alongs. He’ll hide in his office till it’s over.”

  The sliding glass doors open and a guy in khaki pants and a button-up shirt walks through. He’s got a paper in his hand and a nervous look about him. He smooths his hair down and pulls at his sleeves.

  “Can I help you?” Artie asks.

  “Is the manager here?”

  “Sorry, he’s not. Something I can help you with?”

  “I saw the posting for the custodian job,” the guy says with a nervous smile. “Thought I’d come by and introduce myself. I’m Isaac.” He holds out his hand to Artie, who takes it. Warning bells are going off in my head. This young guy is Grandpa’s competition. About thirty years old, fit and tidy. Is he the kind of person Charlie wants working at Brayside?

  The three of us stare at him until it gets uncomfortable. “The position is filled,” Mrs. Kowalski says.

  Isaac’s face falls. “But the posting said it was open until—” “It’s filled,” she says, looking as authoritative as a woman wearing a housecoat and slippers can.

  Isaac puts the paper down on the desk anyway. “I’ll leave this in case another job becomes available. You can keep it on file.” He’s talking to Mrs. Kowalski like she’s in charge. Then he turns and leaves.

  As soon as the sliding doors whoosh shut behind him, Louise comes out of the staff room and frowns at the three of us. “What did I miss?”

  “That guy was applying for Phillip’s job,” Artie says.

  “He’s the third one today.” She pulls a file folder out of the top drawer of the reception desk. She’s about to add Isaac’s résumé to them, but instead she does something that I never would have expected Louise to do. She puts the résumés straight into the paper shredder.

  “Louise!” I say.

  “Your grandpa would do the same for me, Austin. We look out for our own around here.” I want to hug her and when I look at Artie and Mrs. Kowalski, they’re both nodding in agreement.

  Old people like to be early for things, so it doesn’t take long for the games room to fill up. Artie puts Mrs. Kowalski’s wheelchair right at the front and leaves a chair beside it for her husband. Mrs. O’Brien comes in next with a plate of muffins. Miss Lin and Mrs. Luzzi are behind her and each of them has a plate of cookies.

  I wrote out a couple of things on loose-leaf so I wouldn’t forget anything. My hands tremble as I take it out of my pocket. It’s silly that I’m so nervous since I see these people almost every day, but there’s so much on the line right now. If my plan doesn’t work, I don’t know what Grandpa will do. Who is going to hire a guy his age? He needs his job and not just because of the money. He likes to work because that’s who he is.

  The residents look at me kindly, smiling and nodding. By the time Louise has herded them all into seats, lining up wheelchairs and walkers, the room is crowded. Mr. Singh scooters himself right up to the front and gives me a big thumbs-up.

  Mr. Santos works on a crossword while we’re waiting to start. At the back, Louise nods for me to begin. I clear my throat and open my mouth.

  But there’s a creak as the door opens, so I stop. What if it’s Grandpa?

  Everyone turns as Mrs. Fradette and Maggie slip in.

  Mrs. Gelman purses her lips at the late arrival, but points to the empty chair beside her, which Mrs. Fradette takes. Maggie stays standing at the back beside Artie and Louise.

  Maggie gives me a big smile and for some reason seeing her there makes me braver. I clear my throat again and start talking.

  “Hi, everyone.” Instead of silence like at school when I have to give a presentation, all the old people say hello back to me. This also makes my nerves disappear. “So, I guess you figured out there’s no sing-along.” There’s a murmur of laughter. “What I wanted to talk to you about is my grandpa. I found out that his job is posted and Charlie’s been accepting résumés.” Lots of white-haired heads shake. “What I was hoping is that if everyone wrote a letter to Charlie explaining how important Grandpa is to Brayside he’d change his mind.”

  “Of course we will, dear!” Mrs. Luzzi says.

  “I’ve already started one,” Mr. Singh adds.

  “What if he wants to go?” Everyone turns to look at Mrs. Fradette. “Have you asked him?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Phillip’s still a young man,” Mr. Santos, who’s in his eighties, says.

  “He’s never said anything about retiring to me or my mom,” I explain. “He still likes coming to work. He never complains, even if he has to come in on the weekends.” It’s true. Brayside has a weekend custodian to do the cleaning, but if there is a plumbing or electrical issue, Charlie knows he can call on Grandpa because he’ll come to fix it.


  Louise pipes up from the back. “I’ve known Phillip since he started here. If he wanted to retire, we’d have talked about it.”

  “When do you want the letters written?” Mrs. O’Brien asks. “As soon as possible, I guess. Is tomorrow okay?”

  From the back of the room, Maggie speaks up. “If you need help, I can type them on the computer in the library.”

  I give her a big smile of gratitude.

  For the first time since I found the job posting on Charlie’s desk, I breathe easier. Grandpa might not be a spring chicken, but he’s not on the chopping block either.

  Chapter 37

  Maggie

  Maggie’s mind drifts off as her math teacher hands back a test. “What’d you get?” Brianne asks, turning around in her desk. Her thumb is placed strategically over her mark.

  “Eighty-five percent,” Maggie says. It’s a good mark, but based on the satisfied smirk on her friend’s face, she can tell it’s not as good as Brianne’s. Usually, this would bother her. She’d hide her test, quickly slipping it into her binder, or go through every question and grade-grub for a few more points to boost her final mark.

  But this time, when Brianne shows her the 90% circled on her paper, Maggie gives her a half-hearted congratulatory smile. Then she goes back to thinking about Mrs. Fradette, the essay contest, and Brayside.

  She typed up four letters yesterday after Austin’s speech. She’d thought the old people would write about how well Phillip did his job.

  But that wasn’t what happened at all.

  Each letter was a tribute, a little story about some way Phillip had helped each of them. Some were funny and others touching. As Maggie typed them up, she realized the residents at Brayside were as much a family as she, her sisters, and her parents.

  When Maggie had got home last night, she’d filled in her chart of volunteer hours. All the time she’d spent at Brayside after school and on the weekends had already added up to seventeen hours. Only three more hours? Maggie frowned. She wasn’t ready to be done with Brayside.

  >With all the talk about Phillip’s job, there hadn’t been much time for her to visit with Mrs. Fradette, but she’d been giving the essay some thought. Something Mrs. Fradette had said the other day about being a “grease monkey” had intrigued her. A girl working in a garage in the 1950s must have been unusual. Even now it was rare to see a female mechanic. Could that be the nugget she’s looking for?

  At lunch the next day, Maggie lets out a sigh of relief when she sees that her seat next to Lexi and Brianne is still vacant. She’s a few minutes late because she was talking to Mrs. Weston about the essay contest.

  “Where were you?” Lexi asks.

  “Talking with Mrs. Weston,” Maggie says, sitting down.

  “About?” Brianne asks.

  The truth sits deep in Maggie’s throat. It isn’t just the itchy socks and the uniform that are different now that she’s in seventh grade. Qualities that used to be commended in elementary school, like wanting to enter an essay contest, have suddenly become embarrassing. “My mom thinks I need help with English.” Maggie gives a convincing eye roll.

  Both girls groan in sympathy. Maggie silently congratulates herself. The lie has given her an excuse to see Mrs. Weston without Brianne and Lexi asking questions. When she’d spoken with Mrs. Weston today, she’d told her about Mrs. Fradette and the things she was learning about the flood evacuation. “I want to use her stories for the essay contest,” Maggie had said to Mrs. Weston.

  “The topic is Hidden History so find one unusual area to focus on,” Mrs. Weston had replied. “Something people won’t know much about. And think about what her story is teaching you.”

  As Brianne and Lexi discuss another seventh grader’s unfortunate haircut, Maggie drifts off again, preoccupied with thoughts of her essay and Mrs. Fradette.

  Chapter 38

  Austin

  All my worries about the old people not wanting to write letters flew from my mind when I got to Brayside the next day. “Hello” is barely out of my mouth before Louise grabs my hand and leads me around to the back of the nurse’s station to show me the stack of letters she is hiding in a drawer. A bunch of them are typed, thanks to Maggie, and others are handwritten. One, from Mr. Santos, is three pages long.

  I’m not sure what to say, but finally sputter, “Wow!”

  “I know!” Louise says. “One of them says, ‘It will be the biggest regret of your professional career if you let Phillip go.’” She hoots with laughter.

  “You’ve been reading them?”

  Louise gives me a sly look. “Of course. And this didn’t come a moment too soon. Look at what came today.” She passes me a résumé and I skim it.

  “‘Jerry Zubick. Head custodian for Park View Manor,’” I read out loud. Park View is a place a lot like Brayside. I keep reading and see that he’s got twenty years of experience and is also a licensed electrician. This applicant isn’t a newbie like Isaac. Jerry could be real competition for Grandpa.

  “I can’t keep shredding the applications either. Charlie’s getting suspicious. He keeps asking if there’s any more mail than what’s on his desk. I think we need another sing-along,” Louise says. “But this time, Charlie needs to be there. Just passing the letters on isn’t enough. He needs to hear from the residents. If he saw how much Phillip means to them—” Louise waves her hand and shakes her head.

  “Okay,” I say slowly, “but how are we going to get Charlie there?”

  Louise doesn’t have a chance to answer because I hear Grandpa’s key ring jangling. I stuff Jerry’s résumé and the letters back into the drawer. “Hey, Grandpa. Everything okay?” I ask as he comes to the front desk.

  When he frowns, his forehead gets even more wrinkles. “Yeah. I was just talking with Charlie,” he says, looking at Louise more than me.

  “About what?” I get all tingly with nerves. What if Charlie fires Grandpa before I can give him the letters?

  He opens his mouth, then closes it and shakes his head. “Nothing for you to worry about. Come on. You’ve got some work to do in Mrs. Gelman’s suite. I’m going to show you how to re-caulk a tub.”

  I shoot Louise a look. She gives it right back. Between the two of us, we’ve got to come up with something, and quick! On the way to Mrs. Gelman’s suite, I glance at the Kowalskis’ photo collage. The center picture is the two of them under a FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY banner.

  And that’s when I get my idea.

  I slap my forehead like I’ve forgotten something. “Shoot! I was supposed to help Mr. Santos with today’s puzzle. I’ll meet you in Mrs. Gelman’s in a few minutes.”

  Grandpa nods and I wait around the corner until he’s inside her suite. Louise looks up from her charts when I slap my hands on the front desk. “We’ll tell Charlie it’s a surprise party for Grandpa. For his seventeenth anniversary at Brayside.”

  “How do you know when he started?

  “I don’t. Not exactly anyway. The point is that Charlie will have to come to the party. When all the old people are there, we’ll have them read their letters. There’s no way Charlie will let him go after all that. He’d look like the world’s biggest jerk.”

  A grin spreads across Louise’s face. “I’ll make up the invitations tonight. We’ll have the party tomorrow before dinner in the games room. I’ll ask the chef to make a cake.”

  I head back to Mrs. Gelman’s suite. Grandpa hasn’t even started on the shower yet. He’s been chatting with Mrs. Gelman. She’s grinning so big, I’m worried her dentures are going to fall out. “I’ll make you some latkes tomorrow,” she says. Grandpa is so much more than just a custodian to Brayside. How can Charlie not see that?

  Well, after tomorrow, Charlie will see. I just hope that it’s not too late.

  Chapter 39

  Maggie

  Maggie hadn�
�t planned on coming to Brayside today, but she found something last night when she was researching that she couldn’t wait to share with Mrs. Fradette.

  When she gets to Mrs. Fradette’s door, it’s already open. Inside, Louise is sitting on the couch with a blood pressure gauge around Mrs. Fradette’s arm. Not wanting to intrude, Maggie goes back to the hallway and waits.

  The three collages have been hung and they take up most of the wall space between Mrs. Fradette’s suite and Miss Lin’s. There are so many photos that every time Maggie looks, she notices a new one.

  Today, her eyes are drawn to a particularly blurry photo. It looks like Mrs. Fradette is standing beside a baby deer. Maggie looks closer. Spindly legs, long neck; the head is the right shape. Maggie wonders what the story is behind that photo.

  Maggie peeks into Mrs. Fradette’s suite to see if Louise is finished. “It’s high,” Louise says, pulling the stethoscope out of her ears. “You have to take it easy.”

  Mrs. Fradette waves a hand at Louise. “I’m eighty-three. I haven’t taken it easy my whole life, I’m not starting now.”

  Maggie is relieved to hear Mrs. Fradette still feisty. She can’t be feeling that bad. Maggie raps lightly on the door to announce her arrival. “Mrs. Fradette?” she calls. “It’s Margaret.”

  It is Louise who gestures for her to come in. “Perfect! Maggie can keep you company. I’ll be back in an hour.” Louise turns to Mrs. Fradette with a stern look. “And you need to keep resting. Maggie can get you whatever you need.”

  As soon as Louise is gone, Mrs. Fradette sits up. “Getting old is no fun, Margaret. No matter how well you tune the engine, something’s always breaking down.”

  “It’s important to have a good mechanic,” Maggie says with a grin.