Authors: Lynda Simmons
Island Girl (16 page)
I had no idea what a shot peening machine was, and the only dust collectors I knew were the Royal Doulton figurines Great-Grandma Lucy brought with her from the old country and that Ruby regularly threatened to leave to me one day. But the details of the equipment didn’t matter because I could already see where this was going to end.
“I’m guessing the company that hired him is big, giving Mitch a lot of comfort while he was climbing out on a limb to make the job come together.”
“They even showed him a letter of credit from the bank, proving they had the financing for the move.”
“And based on that, he probably maxed his line of credit plus every one of his credit cards. Maybe even reached out to family and friends to get this job done.”
“We all helped out, yes.”
“Then there’s something you all need to know. I guarantee that Mitch is never going to see the rest of the money.”
Gary stared at me. “What are you talking about? He has a signed contract. The equipment is up and running.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I finished the rest of the brownie and wiped my fingers on a napkin. “They’re gambling that he’ll go bankrupt before they’re forced to pay.”
“But how can they do that?”
“Unfortunately, all too easily. If Mitch’s company doesn’t survive, then the debt is wiped out and the money stays in the other guy’s pocket. It’s dirty, but it happens more often than you’d think.”
Gary put his plate down, his appetite clearly gone. “How do you know all this?”
I smiled. “Because I’m more than a fabulous Highland dancer. I’m also a lawyer. At least I was a lawyer.” And it amazed me how quickly the blocks had fallen into place. Like Mark said when I cleared out my desk:
You can take the girl out of the courtroom, but you can’t take the
—
You can take the girl out of the courtroom, but you can’t take the
—
“Were you disbarred or something?”
“Nothing that exciting. I just got tired and quit.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Pursuing my options.”
“At the Duck?”
I started to get up. “I should go.”
He laid a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, it just seems like a waste, that’s all. You obviously know your stuff, and Mitch could use someone like that right now.”
“Doesn’t he have a lawyer?” Gary nodded. “And what’s he done for him so far?” I asked.
“Lots of letters. He says the next step is a lawsuit.”
“Which will be expensive, with the costs due up front, of course. He’s probably explained that it will take at least two years to get to court and by then Mitch’s company will be bankrupt anyway so what’s the point. And for this he’s already charged him an arm and a leg.”
“Two legs, I believe.”
I shook my head. Goddamn lazy lawyers. No wonder people hated us.
Hated them.
“Well, Gary, I can tell you with every confidence that the lawyer is wrong. There is indeed something else that he can do.”
I opened my backpack, hunted around until I found a pen and a scrap of paper. A receipt from the liquor store, what else? I turned it over, printed on the back
petition into bankruptcy,
and handed it to Gary. “The lawyer won’t want to do this, so Mitch will have to insist.”
petition into bankruptcy,
and handed it to Gary. “The lawyer won’t want to do this, so Mitch will have to insist.”
“What if he still won’t?”
I zipped up my backpack. “Then he needs a better lawyer.”
“Gary,” Mitch called, and waved a hand when we both turned. “We’re up.”
“Be right there,” Gary said, then turned back to me. “You going to the Duck afterward?”
“There’s a good chance of that, yes.”
He tucked the note into his pocket and gave me another of those smiles. “See you there then. I’ll talk to Mitch about this. You talk to Brenda.”
“Will do,” I said, watching him jog back to the baseball field and wishing he were anyone’s brother but Brenda’s.
She sat down next to me. “Stay away from him,” she whispered, as though reading my mind.
“I’m just looking.” Gary took his spot on the bench next to Mitch. Raised a hand and waved to me. I waved back and tried not to think about brown eyes, or full lips, or a wiry naked body moving over me—
“I mean it,” Brenda said, taking her cell phone out of her purse and punching in a number. “He is off limits.” She rose and spoke into the phone. “Hi Marty. It’s Brenda.”
Marty West was the owner of the Duck. He rarely came into the pub, leaving Brenda in charge on a day-to-day basis, but his was the number they called in case of emergency.
“I can’t come in tonight,” she said. “You’ll have to call Stevie.” She shook her head. “Don’t give me a hard time on this, Marty.” She walked away from the blanket and I couldn’t hear what was being said anymore. But I could see her spine stiffening and her hand clenching at her side.
“Then screw you, Marty!” she finally yelled. “I quit.”
She closed the phone and came back to the blanket, sank down on her knees, and stared at the cooler a moment. Then she started picking up plates, napkins, empty drink boxes. Her movements brisk and efficient, almost masking the shaking of her hands.
I screwed the lid on the pickle jar and crawled with it over to the cooler. “Brenda, I know how hard this must be, and it’s really none of my business—”
She snatched the jar out of my hand. “You’re right, so drop it.”
“It’s just that Gary told me what’s going on and—”
“And he should have kept his mouth shut.”
She kept her head down, her lips pinched tightly together while she wrapped the sandwiches, snapped the lid on the brownies. Proving she was tough and strong—and breathing deeply enough to keep the tears from giving her away.
“Brenda, you need a plan—”
She raised her head and glared at me. “I suppose you have a plan. And I should take advice from a drunk who hides in the trees because she can’t talk to her own mother?” She picked up the last Tupperware container, dropped it into the cooler. “You need to leave. I have to see to the boys.”
“Mitch is never going to see that money,” I said softly.
Her hands stilled, her eyes met mine. “Leave me alone.”
“You have to talk to your lawyer.”
She got to her feet. Kept her voice low, her tone level. “And you have to drop it.”
I rose and picked up my backpack. “Fine. Just promise me—”
She shoved me hard enough to get the attention of the families around us. “Are you fucking deaf? I said drop it.”
I felt the eyes of her neighbors taking my measure, assessing her risk. I swung the backpack over my shoulder. Nothing to see here, folks. Move along, move along. “Take care of yourself, Brenda.”
She said nothing, just glared at me, lip curled, fists clenched at her sides. All she wanted right now was to smack me a couple of good ones. Pow. That’s for Hal. Pow. That’s for my husband. Pow, pow, pow. And that’s for the asshole lawyer who should have come up with a plan before the fucking drunk.
Instead she snatched up the garbage bag, tied the top, and walked away, leaving me alone, a visitor no longer welcome at her party. What else had I expected? Brenda wasn’t a sorry, sloppy drunk with no one else to talk to. Her family was close, her circle of friends probably still intact, and she didn’t need the likes of me for advice.
The beat of Ruby’s drum was suddenly all around me, steady and low, like a heartbeat. Walking back toward the trees, doing my best to avoid the stares from the sidelines, I glanced over at the diamond. Gary was up to bat. I couldn’t resist pausing a moment, watching the windup, the pitch, and every player on the bench leaping to their feet when he drove that ball right out of the park. “Off limits,” I whispered. “Way off.”
He started running the bases and I started walking again, heading for my hideout in the trees. I was sober enough to feel a little foolish taking those first few steps off the path, but the drum drew me on and I promised myself I would only stay a couple of minutes. Just long enough to shake off this shit mood and get ready for a night at the all new Brenda-free Duck. Yes indeed, good times were on the way.
By the time I was in position, act II was already in progress: Ruby marching, Mark following, and everyone chanting something about birds again. The only difference was Ruby’s hot-pink baseball cap. How about that? Back for less than a minute, and I was already smiling, wondering when she’d forgotten how much she hated those things.
I parted the leaves for a better view but must have made more movement than I intended because suddenly Mary Anne turned and looked straight into my eyes. She raised a hand and pointed. I shook my head. “No, no, please.” But Mary Anne was indeed faithful and Ruby was her friend.
“Ruby!” she called. And again, louder. “Ruby!”
Mark looked over. Dropped his sign and started toward me, coming through the taxis and limos while Ruby kept beating that drum and marching. I gripped my pack and backed away from the hiding spot, reaching the path as a car screeched to a stop and Ruby’s drum fell silent.
“Mark!” she screamed.
My whole body went hot and then cold. I couldn’t feel my legs, but I didn’t need them. My feet were taking me around the trees all on their own. I saw people running, Mary Anne fretting, and Ruby leaning over Mark, who lay on the ground in front of a taxi.
“Call 911! Call 911!” someone hollered, and suddenly baseball players and little kids were all around me.
“Don’t bother,” Mark said. “I’m fine,” He put a hand on the grill of the taxi and tried to pull himself up. “Just a little winded is all.” He made it to his knees and paused. Looked around. Spotted me. “Liz. Stay there.”
Not a chance.
Telling myself he was okay, I turned and pushed my way through the crowd. Sprinted along the path toward the bathrooms. I had a good fifty-foot head start when Ruby hollered. “Liz, please. Just talk to me.”
Maybe it was the way she said please or maybe it was just too much trouble to keep running. Either way, I stopped and turned around. Watched my mother walk toward me for the first time in more than two years.
She was flushed and sweating as I must have been, and we both made a discreet ladylike dab at the line of sweat on our upper lips at exactly the same moment. Funny, the habits you pick up from your mother and cannot shake for the life of you. I did not, however, tip my head to the right and fold my arms over my chest once she was standing in front of me. That pose was all Ruby’s.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Nice to see you too, Mom.”
“Liz, I’m sorry. But I haven’t seen you in a while, and you’re so pale and thin ...” She lowered her arms on a sigh. “It was a bit of a shock, that’s all.”
Couldn’t be any worse than the view from this end. She looked good from a distance, but up close her skin was dry and there seemed to be too much of it for her face. The tiny lines around her eyes had deepened into a full-blown web that was starting to reach down as well as out. My mother was getting old—just not old enough for Alzheimer’s.
“Were you equally shocked when you saw me outside Fran’s the other day?” I asked.
She had the grace to look away. “I only had a glimpse of you. And then you were gone.” Her eyes flicked back to mine. “I ordered you a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“And apple pie. Yes, I saw.”
“But you didn’t come in.”
“And you didn’t come out.”
She took a few steps away. Turned and came back. Pacing as she always did when she was trying to think, to pull her story together. I could only imagine what great shape she’d be in soon, now that she had Alzheimer’s.
“I wanted you to make the next move,” she said. “Prove that you’re as interested in getting past this nonsense as I am.”
This nonsense? Is that what she was calling it now? Like everything had been a silly misunderstanding. Another tale of the Donaldsons to be trotted out whenever one of us had too much to drink.
Remember the time Mom took out a restraining order against me?
Remember the time Mom took out a restraining order against me?
She smiled. “But what happened at Fran’s or anywhere else doesn’t matter any more. The important thing is that you’re here and we’re talking.”
I wanted to hit her so badly. Make a real impression on my mother for once. But I didn’t. I merely moved in closer and closer until she either had to back up or rub noses with me. It was almost funny the way the very idea had her moving away, putting space between us again.
“Liz, you have to work with me. For Grace’s sake. You’ve spoken to Mark. You know the challenges I’m facing.”
“The Alzheimer’s, yes. Bad bit of karma there.”
“Karma has nothing to do with it.”
“They say suicide only makes things worse. You may come back as a rock on Uranus.” I didn’t know much about karma or reincarnation. I just knew it would piss Ruby off to hear it.
She glanced out at the street, the crowd still gathered for Mark. “I don’t have time to get into this with you. I need to get back to Mark and you need to come to the house. I have to make plans. Ensure that Grace is taken care of and the house is secured for the next generation.”
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