Miss Julia Paints the Town (12 page)

Our after-dinner conversation got off on the wrong foot almost as soon as we regathered in the living room. As we sat in a loose semicircle around the fireplace, in which Sam had built a small fire to take the chill off the nippy evening, Pastor Ledbetter took it upon himself to draw out Mr. Kessler.

In the midst of the general conversation, the pastor leaned over and said, “I hear you have big plans for Main Street. It's about time somebody did something with that old courthouse. It's about to fall down.”

Wanting to forestall that topic and pretending not to have heard, I jumped in with a question. “Will your wife be joining you, Mr. Kessler?”

LuAnne immediately stopped talking with Emma Sue and turned to hear the answer.

“I'm a widower,” Mr. Kessler said. “Unhappily. But call me Arthur.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” I replied, then, searching frantically for another subject, went on. “And where in New Jersey do you live?”

“Milford.”

I waited a second for further enlightenment, but when it wasn't forthcoming, tried again. “Do you have children?”

“Two daughters. Both grown and married.”

By this time, everybody's attention was on him, waiting to learn more. Pleading silently for anyone to help me out, I was relieved when LuAnne finally said, “Oh, children are such a blessing and I know you're proud of yours. I've always regretted not having any, but a single woman is so much better off without them, don't you think?”

My eyes rolled only slightly as she let him know she was available. I declare, what some women won't do to attract a man.

I thought Sam was coming to the rescue when he said, “We have a lot of retirees here from New Jersey. All fine people and an asset to the town.”

That perked up Mr. Kessler. “That's exactly the kind we intend to attract. People're tired of congestion and long commutes and hard winters. Like I said, they're looking for better places to live when they retire, places with a low cost of living and where they'll have a sense of community. That's why we think Abbotsville is ideal for our project.”

I wanted to ask who the
we
were that he kept referring to, but I preferred staying above and out of any of his plans.

“Well, you're looking at the right place,” Pastor Ledbetter said, and we were off and running on the very subject I'd wanted to avoid.

Mildred, roused out of her concentration on her own woes, said, “I hope you'll build something nice, something that will bring in the right kind of people. If you do, I might be interested myself. I don't want to end up rattling around in a big house all by myself.”

Etta Mae reached over, patted her hand and whispered something comforting to her. Then she said to Mr. Kessler, “If you're looking for building sites, you ought to look at Delmont. We're only a few miles from here out in the county, and we could sure use some fresh faces. Everywhere I go, I see the same people, I don't care where it is.” She laughed. “The ones I see at the hardware store in the mornings pop up again at Ingles in the afternoon, and they're the same ones I see line dancing at the roadhouse that night.”

Mr. Kessler gave her long, penetrating look, and I couldn't tell if it was a look of dismay or of interest. Either way, he didn't answer her, just turned his shrewd eyes to Hazel Marie when she said, “Delmont's a nice place. I've always liked it.”

“Oh, I like it, too,” Etta Mae said. “Especially now. Since Miss Julia gave me the manager's job, I've been able to get some decent people in the trailer park.”

Mr. Kessler jumped on that. “You live in a trailer?”

“I sure do,” she said, not one bit reluctant to admit to it. “I've got it fixed up real nice with an awning and everything, and now that I don't have to call the cops every night, it suits me fine.”

LuAnne's eyes rolled worse than mine ever had. She couldn't imagine living in a trailer, much less announcing it to all and sundry. “My goodness,” she murmured.

But Mr. Kessler was definitely interested in Etta Mae. He leaned forward and said to her, “My condos are going to be top of the line, the last word in luxury and there'll be some one, two and three bedroom units, as well as a penthouse. Maybe you'd be interested in moving up.”

Etta Mae threw back her curly head and laughed. “Mr. Kessler, a double-wide would be moving up for me.”

Hazel Marie quickly said, “But your place is so nice, Etta Mae, even if it is a single-wide.”

Mr. Kessler gave Etta Mae another long, almost calculating look. “Call me Arthur,” he said.

“Well,” Pastor Ledbetter said, “I, for one, think anything would be better than letting that courthouse sit there, deteriorating by the day. But I'll tell you, Arthur, you may have a tough row to hoe getting the commissioners' approval to tear it down. There're some in town who're dead set against it.”

Well, there it was, out in the open. Inwardly fuming at the pastor, I bit my lip and remained silent. But it frosted me good that, if he moved to Raleigh, he wouldn't have to live with a monstrosity on Main Street. For Emma Sue's sake, though, I couldn't say a word. But he'd certainly hear from me in the future.

Mr. Kessler gave a quick nod of agreement. “I know there's opposition,” he said. “But we expected that, and we'll deal with it. We have the mayor's backing already and almost a majority of the commissioners—only one or two are wavering. They'll come around, though, when they see the plans and hear how it'll mean progress for the whole county.”

Mr. Kessler didn't seem to have a doubt in the world that he'd get his way, sooner or later and one way or another. And I didn't doubt that he would, either. You put dollar signs in front of the businessmen on the Board of Commissioners, and you could bet your bottom one that they'd give him whatever he wanted.

And, furthermore, they wouldn't care if more than half the town disagreed with their decision. They'd figure it'd all be forgotten and forgiven by the time the next election rolled around. In fact, they'd run on the increase of the tax base they'd brought to the town.

“Besides,” Mr. Kessler went on, “even if we don't get a majority vote, that won't stop us. There's nothing on the books that'll keep an unused courthouse off the market. All that remains to be settled is how much they'll take for it.”

And there we had it: It came down to money. I wanted to slap off that arrogant curl of his mouth. He was positive that our commissioners could be bought, either directly or for the supposed good of the town.

So my idea of presenting an alternate plan for the courthouse was dead in the water before I'd even started rowing. There was no way that archives and Boy Scout meeting rooms could compete with luxury condominiums filled with tax-paying property owners.

I'd have to come up with something else, and by the time the guests took their leave, I'd about decided what that something else would be. It was confirmed for me when I went into the kitchen after the last guest had left.

“Lillian,” I said, “everything was perfect. You outdid yourself with the shrimp and grits. I think they were tastier than usual.”

“Yessum, I spiced 'em up a little. But,” she said, frowning, “that Mr. Kessler didn't do much damage to his.”

“I noticed. But that was the idea. I didn't want him to think too highly of us.”

“Well, you misfigured on that, 'cause he come in here an' say he never have such good yeast rolls and pecan pie. He ast me can I cook roast beef an' steak an' such as that, an' I say I been cookin' such as that all my life.”

“Why in the world did he want to know that?”

She took a last swipe of the countertop and looked up at me with a grin. “‘Cause he offer me a job.”

“A job! Doing what?”

“He say he intend to keep one of them condominiums for hisself, an' he want me to cook for him whenever he come to town. He say he keep on payin' me even when he out of town, an' I never have it so good.”

I was stunned and furious in equal measure. The nerve of the man, coming into my home and trying to hire Lillian out from under me. No guest had ever been so rude and underhanded.

Holding on to a chair for support and nearly strangling, I asked, “What did you tell him?”

“I tell him I'm not in the market for another job. I like the one I got.”

“Oh, Lillian,” I said, relief flooding my soul, “thank you. I don't know what I'd do if you left.”

“I don't know what I'd do if I left, either. Can't no other place be like this one. Nobody know what gonna happen next 'round here. It keep me en'ertained all the time.”

“I don't know what you mean, but I think it's time you had a raise. I'll see to it at the end of the week.”

“Well, I 'preciate it, but you don't have to do that ever'time somebody want to hire me.”

“Why? Has somebody else tried to hire you?”

“Yessum, Miz Allen, one time she say Ida Lee need help an' she ast me if I come to work for her.”

“Mildred! She asked you?” I had to sit down. “I can't believe a friend would go behind my back. And after all I've done for her, too.”

Lillian laughed. “You won't find no friends when it come to money and good cooks. I done learnt that a long time ago.”

“I can believe it. But thank you again, Lillian, for being so loyal. You're so much a part of this family that it'd be like losing an arm or a leg if you weren't here. But I'll tell you this,” I said with renewed fury, “Mr. Kessler is not going to be around long enough to need either a cook or a condominium. I am going to send that man back where he came from.” I got up and stomped toward the hall. “One thing's for sure, if he wants quaint, I'll give him quaint.”

Having heard the telephone ring while talking with Lillian, I wasn't surprised to find Hazel Marie waiting for me in the dining room. No one but Mr. Pickens called so late, a bad habit of his when he was out of town.

“That was J.D,” she said, somewhat hesitantly.

“I figured. How is he?”

“Oh, he's fine, but what he called about was to tell me he has to go to San Francisco for an interview. I didn't understand it all, but a big insurance company wants to hire him and put him on a retainer. Or something like that. And, well, he wants me to go with him. Oh, I don't mean really
with
him,” she said, her face turning red and her hands waving. “I mean, I'd just go along for the trip. Would that be all right with you?”

“Hazel Marie, you don't have to ask my permission. You do whatever you think is right.”

That stopped her for a minute, and I regretted the way I'd expressed myself. I had come to terms some time ago with Mr. Pickens's touchiness on the subject of marriage, and had decided that if Hazel Marie could put up with it, I could, too. Yet, I couldn't seem to keep my opinion of their unblessed union to myself.

So I tried again. “They say San Francisco is lovely. I'm sure you'll enjoy it, and it'll be nice to have Mr. Pickens with you. I'd hate to tackle it by myself.”

“Oh, but there's another couple going, too. They're married and they'll join us in Dallas and fly on with us. So that'll make it all right, won't it?”

“Well, of course that puts a different light on it. I know Mr. Pickens wouldn't suggest anything that would compromise you.” I didn't know any such thing, but what do you do?

“Well, I just wanted to be sure you wouldn't mind looking after Lloyd while I'm gone. It'll only be three or four days.”

“You know I don't mind,” I said, since that child was the very reason I'd come to terms with her open-ended connection to Mr. Pickens. If he ever got it in his head to propose marriage, which Hazel Marie would jump at, they'd move into a home of their own and take Lloyd with them. I've learned that you can put up with a lot of less than optimal situations in order to keep something important.

“You go on and have a good time,” I told her. “We'll be fine.”

“Oh, good,” she said, “I've never been to San Francisco and I can't wait to see it. J.D.'s driving back from Charlotte tonight and he'll pick me up in the morning. We'll fly out from Asheville around ten. Oh, I am so excited. I don't know what to take, but I better go pack something.”

“Wait a minute, Hazel Marie. What about Horace Allen? If Mr. Pickens is going to be gone, how can Mildred hire him?”

“Well, that's just it. She hasn't done a thing and neither has Tonya. I talked to both of them, gave them his cell phone number and everything, and he says they haven't been in touch. So, this insurance thing is such a big opportunity, he can't afford to sit around and wait for them.”

“Well, I declare,” I said, wondering at the disinterest of both Mildred and Tonya in putting a tried and true private investigator on Horace's case. I think if my husband were missing, I'd have everybody and his brother out looking for him.

At least, that's what I'd do if I couldn't find Sam. I'd have to think long and hard if Wesley Lloyd had ever taken off.

As Hazel Marie ran upstairs to pack for another getaway with Mr. Pickens, I put the unseemliness of it out of my mind. But it took an act of will to do it. They'd been in Mexico together, but since I wasn't supposed to know he'd joined her there, that was easy enough to overlook. This time, though, they were being flat-out open about their plans, even to the point of Mr. Pickens coming to the house to pick her up. I declare, when you close your eyes to one seemingly innocent expedition, you start yourself on a slippery slope. And don't tell me about a married couple going along. I knew how much chaperoning they would do.

Well,
I thought with a sigh,
at least Mr. Pickens is as true and faithful to Hazel Marie as any husband, and more so than many.
Just look at all the well-married absent ones at the present time.

But, as I stood there in the dining room, I realized that Hazel Marie's unexpected flight to San Francisco would put a crimp in my own plans. I had no other option but to rethink the idea that had been forming in my mind and come up with some adjustments.

“Sam,” I said, walking into the living room where he was moving chairs back to their original places. “You won't believe what that Mr. Kessler is up to.”

“You mean,” he said, relocating a side table, “besides the courthouse?”

“That's bad enough,” I said with a flip of my hand. “But what really runs all over me is the fact that he tried to hire Lillian right from under us. That's why he went to the kitchen to compliment the cook.” I pursed my mouth with the thought of it. “But it wasn't compliments he was offering, it was a job.”

“I wouldn't worry about that. Lillian's not going anywhere.”

“Well, that's true,” I said, sinking onto the sofa. “She said she wouldn't. But he is really stirring up trouble and I don't want him around.”

“Not much you can do about that.” Sam took a seat beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. Then with a raised eyebrow, he asked, “Is there?”

I gave him a sidewise glance. “Well, you never know.” Then, settling down to another subject, I said, “Listen, Sam, Hazel Marie's taking off with Mr. Pickens in the morning, which means he won't be here to help look for Horace, although it seems Mildred is not interested in him doing it anyway. So if she's not worried about her own husband, I'm not, either.” I took Sam's free hand and stroked it. “And that leads me to the other abandoned wife. What did Helen have to say this morning?”

“Well, she's in pretty much of a state, I'll tell you that. There's not been one word from Richard or about him. And the longer he's gone, the more suspect he becomes. FBI agents came while I was there and took every paper, file and folder they could find.” He sighed. “It's a good thing I was there when they came. At least I could assure Helen that they had the authority to do it. But she was almost catatonic by the time they left—just sitting there staring into space. I'd almost rather deal with hysterics than that.”

I looked away as my mouth tightened. “I don't know why you have to deal with either one. Where is the lawyer you advised her to get? That's who ought to be helping her.”

“She hasn't gotten around to it yet. And I'm not sure she's capable of doing anything unless I'm there to get her moving.”

“Sam!” I said, turning to stare at him. “Helen Stroud is the most capable woman in town! She can do anything she turns her mind to, so don't be fooled by that helpless act. She needs a lawyer, and she doesn't need you hanging around holding her hand.”

Sam pulled me to him. “I don't hold her hand and, to put your mind at rest, I stood over her while she made a call to Stenson over in Asheville. She has an appointment with him tomorrow afternoon, so my dealings with the Stroud case are about over.”

“You hope,” I said darkly, unable to let go of my suspicions. Helen was too reliant on him and he was too trusting for my peace of mind. “Well, enough of that. What did you think of Mr. Kessler—‘call me Arthur'?”

Sam smiled as he ran his hand up and down my arm. “I think he's going to get that courthouse torn down and get his building up. He'll intimidate the commissioners and promise them the moon and get what he wants. Did you know that Tom Wilkey is already on his payroll?”

That got my attention. “He
is?
For what?”

“For carpet, tile and all the other floor covering—every inch that'll go in the condominiums. Now, wait, I expect he's not officially on the payroll, but Kessler has him figuring square feet to give him an estimate of what will be needed. With, I expect, the assumption that it'll all be bought from Wilkey's Carpet and Tile.”

“That's not right! How can Tom Wilkey be objective when he stands to make money if it goes through? He ought to excuse himself.”

“Recuse, Julia. But you're right, he should. And I expect he will, or he'll have to, when the newspaper puts the arrangement on the front page. Which is what's going to happen in a day or two.”

“Well, good. Tom has gotten my last vote. I declare, Sam, seems like you can't trust anybody. But, you know, there's something else going on. I don't doubt for a minute that Mr. Kessler knew exactly what he was doing when he asked Tom for an estimate. He
knew
he was a commissioner.”

“Sure, he did. And I wonder who else he's gotten to.”

“Now that's a scary thought. The man is a snake, Sam. He's going around corrupting people who're normally as honest as the day is long.” I ran my hand across my brow. “
What
am I saying? If they can be bought, they're not honest in the first place. How can they live with themselves?”

“People rationalize, Julia. And justify. It's human nature, I guess.” Sam hugged me close. “Which doesn't say much for human nature, does it?”

I nestled closer. “No, and Mr. Kessler's playing on it for all he's worth.” By this time, Sam's hand was running up and down my back. “But he may be headed for a fall. Somebody, sometime, may just take him down a peg or two.”

“That'd be nice,” Sam said against my ear. “But Arthur Kessler's not on my mind right now.”