Mustard on Top (2 page)

Terror drained off her in torrents allowing her to breathe. She pressed her hand to her chest trying to calm her pounding heart as she walked toward him. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. We were behind the fire truck.”

“We?” Irrational fear the ‘we’ was Theo and Ben raged in her mind. Then a yellow smudge standing next to Theo came into focus.

“I’m Fire Chief Heller. Are you the homeowner?”

Numbly, Helen shook his hand. “Yes. I’m Helen Ableman.”

“I have some questions for you,” he said.

Helen glanced back. The flames were gone, but charcoal-gray smoke puffed through two windows stretching upward in a great plume. The roof, covered in water, glistened in the red-and-white spiraling lights. Her neighbors still stood in their yards watching and Ben’s car was still parked in front of her house. She spotted his silhouette three-houses down and was grateful he was keeping his distance.

The next few hours passed with controlled chaos. The fire had started on her stove destroying her kitchen. The rest of the house fared better with just smoke and water damage, but most of her important things—Theo’s baby pictures, his art projects, and Hot Diggitys business documents—were safe in the basement.

Though not a mortal strike, her home, with the gaping hole in the roof, was deemed unsafe by the Chief.

The firefighters secured a tarp over the hole in the roof and vacuumed the excess water while Chief Heller explained the house was uninhabitable until the roof, electrical, and whatever other code violations the city inspector found were repaired. She and Theo would be required to live elsewhere.

He advised Helen to contact her insurance carrier then gave her a pile of brochures for various services: shelters, clothing, food, and contractors. Finally, she and Theo were escorted back inside to pack some belongings.

The house, though familiar, felt foreign. Discolored, the living room stunk of burnt plastic and wood. Although the firefighter tried to dissuade her from going into the kitchen, Helen had insisted.

Charred cabinet chunks protruded, and crippled appliances jutted out. The kitchen was a dark shell. The dank, heavy air made Helen sick to her stomach.

After gathering clothes and toiletries, she met Theo at the front door. They came out as one firefighter was running tape around the periphery while another posted ‘Hazard’ signs.

“Mom, did you remember your insulin?” Theo asked.

She’d forgotten. Typical. Turning to the fireman who’d escorted her in, she said, “I need to get my medicine.”

He led her back. After grabbing a handful of syringes, she went to the refrigerator. The handle, having melted in the fire, was shrunken and deformed. Angry with herself for making Theo worry, Helen yanked the door open.

The lining stretched like a piece of gum before snapping. The firefighter shined his flashlight inside. Leftover lasagna flowed from a melted container, and a cracked ketchup bottle dripped. The milk carton had burst and white, red, and brown liquids pooled on the bottom shelf.

Helen reached for her insulin and dropped it when the metal lid burned her fingers. “That’s hot!” She shook her hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Helen growled. She grabbed a dishtowel off the floor, wrapped her hand and snatched the bottle. The month’s supply was likely ruined, but who knew? Insulin had proven hearty in the past. She made a mental note to get it replaced, dreading the request since insurance probably wouldn’t cover it without a fight.

This time when she exited, the firemen were waiting to install a lock on the front door. Only one fire truck remained along with a few scattered neighbors.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” Chief Heller asked.

“My car’s right there.” Helen pointed, noticing that Ben had left. “We’ll be fine.”

With her suitcase on the ground, Helen stood next to Theo and watched the firefighters board their truck. When they drove away, Helen turned and faced the house.

“Poor old house,” Helen said. Years of rain and summer heat had made the siding warp. To the left of the door, one of the gutters dipped below the roofline. Their house had always been at the bottom of her list of priorities. Between Theo’s tutoring classes, and running Hot Diggitys, the gourmet hot dog stand she owned, she never had enough time or money.

Yet, it had been a solid home; and she and Theo were happy there.

“You okay, Mom?” Theo asked.

Helen gave him a smile. He had no idea the fire would be the first shock of the evening.
No.
“Yeah. You?”

Theo puckered his lips the way he’d done since he was three years old and nodded. Helen pulled her tall son into an awkward hug holding him longer than she knew he was comfortable.

She let go and took a step back. “I think you should use the money you put into my college fund to fix up the house,” Theo said. “You could get one of those stoves you’ve been drooling over.”

Helen stiffened. She wanted him to get a college education. Because he’d struggled with schoolwork, she worried his battered ego was more the cause of his lackadaisical attitude than his lack of desire. Wanting to pay his own way seemed to be his latest excuse. Whatever the case, college would benefit him, but the more she pushed, the more he resisted.

“We have insurance, honey.” At least she hoped it covered the fire.

“So where’d you go? Why’d you leave food cooking?” Theo asked.

Ben. She wasn’t ready to tell him. Opting for a half-truth, she stammered, “I went for a walk.” The lie came out stilted.

“With food on the stove?”

“I forgot about it, I’m getting old I guess.” She was relieved when Agatha Cashman, their neighbor, waved to them. Agatha, a sixty-something widow, reminded Helen of an updated, older, June Cleaver. Impeccable. Precise. Agatha’s dress gave her an hourglass figure, and her silver-blonde hair was wound into a tight bun.

Neighbors for the past eight years, Agatha acted like Theo’s quasi-grandmother. Helen had comforted Agatha when her husband died, and again after Agatha had been forced into retirement. When Agatha had complained of boredom, Helen, on impulse, hired her as a part-time bookkeeper for Hot Diggitys. Ever since, Agatha tried to reform what she thought was Helen’s lax business practices.

Agatha glanced at the suitcase next to Helen. “You two
are
staying with me.”

Helen needed time to process what had happened. A shower, some clean clothes, a meal and a glass of wine would work wonders. Mostly, she wanted to be available for Theo. While staying with Agatha would be convenient, she hated being a nuisance.

“That’s okay. We’ll get a room,” Helen said.

“Don’t be silly. I could use the company.”

In truth, Agatha had few visitors. Her abrupt manner and bottom-line attitude didn’t lend itself to socializing. “We couldn’t impose.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Agatha addressed Theo, “I’ve got a pot roast in the oven.”

“I want pot roast.” Theo sounded cheered.

“We’ve decided then,” Agatha announced.

Helen glared at Theo, but he’d hoisted his bag on his shoulder and was already moving. Defeated, Helen offered, “I’ll pay you what we’d pay for a hotel.”

“Oh piddle sticks. You will not. Besides, I need time to go over some ideas for Hot Diggitys with you anyway. I wouldn’t bring it up right now except that it’s good news.”

Helen suppressed a groan. Good news or not, she didn’t want to talk about Hot Diggitys. She pinched the bridge of her nose then picked up her suitcase.

The only two-story home on the block with a pristinely maintained flower garden, Agatha’s house was the jewel of the neighborhood. Helen didn’t like that it made her property look shoddy by comparison.

“Shoes off,” Agatha reminded Theo on his way through the front door. “And go into the bathroom and take off those smelly clothes. I’ve got something you can fit into, so wait there.”

Unlike his behavior at home, Theo obeyed. Helen went to the laundry room and was loading the clothes from her suitcase into the washer when Agatha entered the carrying Theo’s smoky duds.

“I gave him some of Alfred’s old clothes. I’ll bet he loves that.” She laughed. “I’ll get you something too, so you don’t have to wear what you’ve got on.”

A half hour later, the three sat at Agatha’s dining room table. Theo wore Alfred’s clothes while Helen sported a stretchy, gray, velveteen sweat suit. The roast beef with carrots and peas was comforting and tasty.

They talked about the fire. Relieved no one had been hurt, Helen turned her mind to the repairs. The rebuild would be a serious inconvenience, but her burned out kitchen wasn’t a tragedy. When Theo offered to do the work for free, Helen abruptly ended the conversation.

Clearly sensing her mood change, Theo held his hands up in surrender then retreated to one of the spare bedrooms. Helen sighed, since Theo’s graduation from high school, his future plans hung heavy between them and Helen didn’t want him committing to anything in the heat of the moment.

Helen washed the dishes then, hoping to stave off Agatha’s latest advice about Hot Diggitys, picked up a copy of
The Wall Street
Journal
, the only reading material Agatha seemed to own, and feigned interest. Between articles concerning the stock market and the economy, she thought about Ben. How and when would she tell Theo? Her son believed his dad was dead.

Agatha settled in an armchair across from her. “So,” Agatha began.

Helen lowered the paper halfway. “Thank you again for letting us stay here.”

“You’ve thanked me enough. While you were talking to the Fire Chief, a gentleman approached me and insisted I give you this.” She held a business card toward Helen.

“Oh?” Helen set the paper aside and took the card from Agatha. An egg-yolk yellow, it read:
Blake,
Esteban & Associates
across the top. Beneath was simply
Chicago, Illinois 35882
leaving Helen to wonder if Blake, Esteban & Associates had their own zip code.
Cooper Manning, Trial Attorney
was printed in the middle along with several phone numbers.

She flipped it over. Scrawled on the back was:
I’d like to help with the house and to talk. Please call me, Ben.
Beneath the message was an additional number. The pot roast in Helen’s stomach threatened evacuation. “Did he say anything?” Helen asked.

“Just to make sure you got it.” Agatha cocked an eyebrow.

The headache between Helen’s eyes pounded. She needed to tell Theo before Ben showed up on Agatha’s doorstep, and Theo got the shock of his young life. “May I borrow your phone?” Helen asked.

Agatha set her up in her office and closed the door. Her hands shaking, Helen dialed Ben’s number. He picked up on the first ring. “Ben. It’s Helen.”

“Thank you for calling.” He sounded relieved.

“Cooper Manning, huh?”

“My name for the last nine years. How bad was the fire?”

“Bad enough.”

“I stayed until they put it out.”

Helen didn’t know how to respond. A vision of Ben watching her house burn left a foul taste in her mouth.

The silence stretched until Ben added, “I’d like to help repair the damage.”

His swooping in was bizarre. She preferred self-reliance. “That’s not necessary. I have things under control.” She hoped her voice conveyed enough dislike to put an end to his offer.

“I know this is awful timing, but I only have a few weeks and I don’t know when I’ll be able to speak to you again.” He paused. “Is there a chance I can meet Theo tomorrow?”

It felt as if two tiny gnomes were at war in her stomach. “I don’t want Theo hurt.” Her voice crackled.

“I won’t hurt him.”

“You already have.”

“I won’t hurt him more,” Ben said in a monotone.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Helen asked, “How can you say that? You don’t know him. You don’t know how this will affect him.”

“He deserves the truth,” Ben said.

The words hit Helen like a shot to the chest. Again, she fell silent.

“I saw him today.”

For a second Helen thought he meant Harvey and almost laughed until she realized he was talking about Theo, she grew mute.

“He was talking a firemen.”

Helen held her breath.

“Helen? Are you there?”

She didn’t want to be. “Yes.”

“He’s a good-looking young man.”

Helen twirled the phone cord around one finger. Theo’s uncanny resemblance to Ben made his compliments sound conceited. “Yes he is.”

“He seems responsible.”

“He is responsible. I just wish he’d go to college.” Helen winced, wanting to retract her words. “He has no plans for his future?”

“Oh, he has plans.” Theo’s aspirations were like her own, occasionally dancing into view before fading away.

“He can call me Harvey if that makes you more comfortable. I’ll answer to just about anything.” Ben chuckled.

Helen inhaled a shaky breath. “I’ll just tell him that you’ve risen from the dead. That’s believable.”

“You were protecting him as best you could when you told him I’d died. I don’t blame you. When can I meet him?”

Helen contemplated hanging up, but worried Ben might show up on Agatha’s doorstep unannounced, she said. “Give me a couple days. I need to think this through.”

“The sooner the better. Sorry if I’m a little anxious.”

“How do I know this whole witness protection thing is even true?”

“I brought newspaper articles and some of the US Marshal Service paperwork to show you.”

Helen trusted everybody. ‘That’s not necessary,’ lingered in her mouth, but she stopped herself before the words toppled out. This was too important to accept willy-nilly, she wanted proof. “I need to see them.”

“I can drop the paperwork by as soon as we hang up.”

“Not you. Send a courier or something.”

“Where are you staying?”

“We’re at my neighbor’s house. Hers is the only two-story house on the block. The woman you gave the business card to.”

“I’ll have them to you within the hour.”

“Fine,” Helen said, resigned.

“Can I call you tomorrow? Once you’ve read through the documents?”

Panic momentarily seized her voice. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

“Please don’t wait too long.”

“I won’t,” Helen snapped.

After hanging up, Helen took a deep breath and stood. Her legs shook, and she put a steadying hand on the desk. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Of all the parenting challenges she’d faced, this one she had to get right. She returned to the living room where Agatha sat doing a crossword puzzle.

“Everything okay?” Agatha asked.

“A courier is bringing by some information. Once it arrives, I’m heading to bed.”

Agatha must have sensed Helen’s need to be alone, because she simply nodded.

Chapter 2

The documents arrived in a large, brown manila envelope the size and weight of a half ream of paper. Helen took the package and retreated to her room.