Love Is All Around (33 page)

Ruthann leaned against the porch swing, a stuffed lion in her hands.

Sighing, Will swung open the door.

“I don’t know what to do.” Ruthann confided as she stroked the lion’s mane.

Will wandered outside and collapsed on the swing. Patting the seat beside him, he said, “Join me.”

“Patsy always tells me what to do and when to do it. With her not here, I’m lost.” Ruthann perched on the edge of the seat.

“What’s wrong?” Will heaved out.

“Randy.” Ruthann drew the name out into three syllables.

Great, just what Will wanted to do—discuss someone else’s love life, someone who had a love life.

“I thought you were getting along now,” he said.

“We were, but his momma...”

“His momma?” Who cared about Randy’s momma?

“Patsy says she’s an old biddy.”

Will smiled. That was his Patsy.

Ruthann yanked the lion’s mane into a makeshift bun. “Patsy gave me this, when we were twelve. Some older girls were making fun of me. Calling me names, saying my clothes were Goodwill rejects, and...” Her voice tapered off to a whisper. “...that my momma was a...” Will leaned forward to catch the last word. “...whore.”

Will wondered briefly if his sister had been part of the gang. Sounded like her loving nature.

Ruthann continued, “Patsy brought me this and told me I had to learn to stand up for myself. Every time somebody hurt me I was to think of this little lion and roar right back.” She shook her head. “I can’t do it, though. Patsy can. She’s the strongest, bravest person I know, but I can’t.”

Will shifted his weight, making the swing sway back and forth. “What happened?”

“Nothing yet, but it’s going to. Randy’s momma isn’t stupid. She’s going to figure out all that stuff we told her at church isn’t true, and then what am I going to do? She’ll hate me even more, and I’ll lose Randy.”

“You think Randy’s that weak?” And if so, why did she want him anyway?

“He loves his momma,” Ruthann mumbled.

“More than you? You think he’d dump you just because his mother doesn’t approve?” Will could not track the way these women thought. First Jessica, now Ruthann; how did he become the keeper of Patsy’s problems?

Ruthann pulled the lion’s mane so hard Will thought the king of the jungle was going to need transplants.

“If he’d do that, you don’t want him anyway,” he said.

She looked up at him. “That’s what Patsy said. But then I talked her into helping me, and we came up with that big act at the church. It was just supposed to buy me some time to get closer to Randy. Then Patsy was going to work on him, convince him he should stand up to his momma...” Her voice quavered. “...But Patsy’s gone, and I don’t know when she’s coming back.”

No tears. Not twice in one week. Keeping his voice firm, Will replied, “Patsy can’t solve this for you.”

“She can’t?” Ruthann blinked close-to-overflowing eyes. “She always has before.”

Geez, Will’d had no idea how dependent these people were on Patsy. “Take a risk.” Get some balls. “Don’t you think it’s time you confronted something on your own?”

Will walked a bewildered Ruthann to her Cavalier. Leaning through her car window, he tucked the tiny lion onto the dash.

“Time to roar, Ruthann.”

o0o

Lex lounged in Patsy’s cubicle, painting his fingernails with her Wite-out.

“Lexter, any new holes in your head?” Patsy glided in, plopped down on her desk and shoved her chair back with her foot. Working on the baskets had made her a strange mixture of happy and depressed. While she was weaving, she was at peace. When she stopped, she thought of nothing but the man who’d sent them back to her.

Lex quit blowing on his nails. “You talking to me?”

“Not that sharp first thing in the morning, are you? Might want to cut back on the habit.” Patsy nodded to the bottle in his hand. “Can’t afford killing good brain cells; need to leave a few for the drugs and alcohol.”

“Do you know who I am?” With one eye squeezed shut, Lex blew on his fingernails. “I have connections you may need.”

“You think?” In her current mood, ticking off the grim reaper himself wouldn’t intimidate Patsy. He couldn’t put her through anything worse than the self-doubt she’d been stewing herself in.

“I know.” He tossed her Wite-out into the lap drawer and sauntered off.

“Stop in again anytime. On Friday we have a special on French tips,” she called after him.

Pulling her “protocol manual” out of her bottom drawer, Patsy flipped it open. Time to tackle the delicate issue of code comments. Didn’t want to step on any toes. It was a matter of such earth-shattering importance. One person’s comment might be another person’s insult. Had to be diplomatic about the whole issue.

Let’s see, how about “when using comments, take utmost care in constructing them in a manner least likely to be effective in any way.” Yes, that would cover it.

Now to review Lex’s work from yesterday. She flipped to the section on closing tags. “Closing tags, good. Not closing tags, bad.” Patsy smiled. You had to love a smart-aleck.

After jotting down changes for both sections on pink post-it notes, she stuck them on the pages and shut the manual.

“Patsy, could I see you in my office for a moment?”

Uh-oh, Kelsey sounded more tense than normal, not that she was ever what you could call tranquil. Inside her office, Patsy moved a stack of files off a chair and sat down.

“You and Lex getting along?”

“Why?” Had the little rat ratted her out?

“No reason.”

Kelsey reached into a McDonald’s bag sitting on her desk and pulled out a cherry pie.

“Apple’s better,” Patsy announced.

Kelsey looked at her in surprise.

“There’s not enough cherries in those, it’s mainly juice,” she explained.

“Oh, I bought an apple too, but I felt like the cherry.” Kelsey nipped the end off the pastry with her teeth.

Patsy nodded her head. “Are we done?”

Pie juice dribbled between Kelsey’s fingers. “I know he’s worthless.”

Patsy shrugged.

“His father’s a vice president. If you want to keep your job, you have to get along with him.” Kelsey’s tone became apologetic. “It’s just how it is.”

Patsy shrugged again. Lex was growing on her, and it didn’t sound like he’d snitched. “I understand. That it?”

Waving the pie, Kelsey indicated she could leave. “Patsy?” she called. “You want the apple?”

Fried pastry in hand, Patsy strolled back to her desk. Had Lex ratted her out? No, not his style. Kelsey must be keeping a closer watch on her than she’d realized. But why?

o0o

Trash day. Will pulled out a twist-tie and yanked open the built-in garbage drawer in his kitchen. Grasping the sides of the plastic bag, he tugged it out. Something inside poked through the plastic, tearing the sack and spilling garbage onto the plank floor.

Ralph wandered over to investigate.

“Careful, boy, don’t step in it.” Using a whisk broom, Will brushed coffee grounds into a pile. When he looked up, Ralph was sitting in the mess, holding Will’s creation from the day before in his mouth.

“Pretty awful, huh?” Will asked. He pulled the item from Ralph’s gentle hold. A few coffee grounds were wedged between the reeds, but overall it was clean.

Will shook his head. He hated failure. Why couldn’t he make something with his hands? Why did he think he could make something for Patsy? He’d tried, but he botched it. Holding open a new bag, he started to drop the embarrassing mess inside.

Patsy helping him measure reed and weave it into a basket flashed through his mind. She didn’t care that what he made that night was lopsided and unattractive. She loved the process. He set his creation on the counter and spun it in a circle. Ugly, but he’d made it; maybe Patsy would appreciate that.

A cardboard box he had set aside to haul away sat near the back door. Before he could change his mind, he placed his gift inside and went to look for packing peanuts.

o0o

Patsy knew why basket weaving was thought of as therapy for neurotic old women. There were only three things that even came close to calming her like this—Granny’s chamomile tea, Hostess pies, and sex. None of which she had access to at the moment.

She attached the bail handle to her jack-o-lantern and set him on the floor. One down, two to go. With the time crunch, she was going to have to switch plans for the last two. The hamper and picnic basket were both too involved. An egg basket would work; classic, but simple. Selecting some reed, she headed to the kitchen to soak it in Ritt dye. Up to her elbows in robin’s-egg blue, she heard the doorbell ring. Pugnacious began her alarm. Patsy ripped off her rubber gloves and rushed to the door.

Another cardboard carton sat outside her apartment. She picked it up and kicked the door shut behind her.

“Presents,” she announced to Pugnacious.

With the box hugged to her body, she dropped to the floor. She shook the package. “What do you think it is? No return address, but it’s postmarked Daisy Creek.” She waited for Pugnacious to complete her inspection. “You think it’s from Granny? No, she won’t even talk to me on the phone. I don’t think she’d be sending me presents. Will again?” Patsy’s heart skipped a beat at the thought.

Her pug gave a loud snort.

“I know, I know, just open it. But it’s fun to guess, too. Don’t you think?”

Another snort.

“Fine.” Using the scissors she’d been cutting reed with, Patsy sliced open the packing tape.

“Look, a card, and there’s a dog print on it, a real dog print.”

Pugnacious,

I miss you.

Ralph.

“Aren’t you the lucky girl? It’s for you.” With a trembling hand, Patsy set the card to the side and removed the tissue-wrapped object. Tearing off the paper, she sat it on the floor between her and Pugnacious.

“Oh, my God, Pug Girl. It’s a raccoon, with a daisy.”

The small hard rubber figure stood six inches tall. Its tiny masked face was tilted to sniff the daisy that was grasped in its paws. Patsy cradled it in her arms like a newborn baby. She’d never seen anything so… perfect.

“I can’t believe he did this. How did he…?” A tear crept into the corner of Patsy’s eye. She wiped it away with a jerk of her hand.

“I am not crying over a rubber raccoon.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, but saying the words aloud made her a little stronger.

Pugnacious sniffed the little figure, tilted her chin to the ceiling and began to bay. Laughing, Patsy wiped new tears off her cheeks and rolled the toy to her dog.

“Have fun, girl. It’s nice to be loved.”

o0o

Fog rolled in the next morning, forcing Patsy to drive with her lights on to avoid being lunchmeat in a semi sandwich. As she pulled into her parking place, big, fat drops of rain littered the parking lot.

A day like this made the prospect of being trapped in her gray cell almost cheerful. She grabbed a copy of the
Daisy Creek News
she’d received in the mail the day before and jogged to the building with it held over her head like a halo.

Lex loitered near the coffee machine, snitching sugar cubes. “Nice day.”

“If you’re a slug.”

He popped a cube in his mouth and crunched down. “You calling me a slug?”

“You feel like a slug?”

“Not today.”

“Well, then?”

He shrugged. “Okay, just checking.”

Patsy shook the rain off her paper.

“What’s that?” Lex stacked two cubes together and slowly demolished them with his molars.

Amazing—disgusting, but amazing. “Can you do three?”

“Sure.” Three perfectly aligned cubes went into his mouth. Within seconds they were dust.

“Impressive.”

He shrugged off the compliment. “What’s that?” He pointed to the paper.

“Oh, an old paper from home.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” Patsy tossed it to him, grabbed a sugar cube, and wandered to her cubby.

Around one, he sauntered over to her desk with the paper tucked under his arm.

“You know this Will Barnes?” he asked.

Patsy started at the name. “Will? Yeah, why?”

“No reason. He sounds righteous, though.”

Confused, Patsy asked, “What do you mean?”

Lex pushed some papers to the side and sat on the corner of her desk. “In your paper, it talks about him buying a bunch of land near where the company wants to put in a smelter.”

“Yeah?” Patsy didn’t realize the
Daisy Creek News
had printed the story of Will’s greed.

“Brilliant. The dude is brilliant.”

Patsy blinked. That wasn’t exactly how she’d been thinking of it.

Lex sighed. “It doesn’t say it in your little rag there, but this Will, he’s negotiating for the whole area. See, he bought a key piece of property, and he won’t let go of it until they agree to a price he ‘deems fair’ for all the land owners.”

Patsy frowned. Lex had this all wrong. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I got ears. Half the people ‘round here don’t think I use them, but I do. The powers are all twitchy about your pal Will, but he’s got them by the jewels. This land is the best spot for the smelter, and he knows it.” Lex crossed his arms and leaned against the padded wall of Patsy’s cubby.

“He also claims he doesn’t care whether they build it there or not and won’t even consider selling it until they meet his price. Even then, the sale might not go through. He’s hired some hotshot attorney to work up the contract. It’s got all kinds of stuff about testing along the drive route, clean-up, that kind of thing.” Lex chuckled.

Patsy felt sick. She had jumped to the worst conclusion as soon as the smallest piece of evidence was given to her, and that evidence hadn’t even been presented by a reliable source. She’d believed Will was greedy and selling out Daisy Creek because of what Jessica, of all people, had said. She’d judged Will, betrayed him in thought if not deed, just like she’d been betrayed five years ago.

He’d trusted her, and she’d walked away without even a phone call. And he’d been sending packages. Why was he doing that? He should hate her. After the confusion wore off, before the apathy set in, there was hatred.