A Light in the Window (52 page)

“Well! What do you think? See how it slenderizes your face? You ought to let me give you a mask sometime. No, I mean it. Men in Los Angelees, and New York do it all the time. It cleans out your pores. Oh, and Italians, they do masks. They even carry handbags, did you know that? Italian men are different. My girlfriend used to date an Italian. He was so macho, you wouldn’t believe it. How can you be macho and carry a handbag, I wonder? I don’t have the slightest idea.

“Oh, law, this coffee has got me flyin’ to the moon. That’ll be ten dollars. No, six! I forgot—you’re clergy.”

He closed the door to the study, then closed his eyes and prayed.

He might as well expect water to flow uphill as to expect this phone call to do any good—but where was his faith?

Ed Coffey answered the phone at Edith’s condominium in Boca Raton.

“She’s with someone on the patio, Father.”

“I can call later.”

“Oh, no, sir. I’m sure Miz Mallory would like to talk to you.”

He waited an eternity.

“Hello,” Edith said, exhaling smoke into the receiver.

“Edith, it’s Tim.”

“Yes, Timothy.” He might have been someone from the IRS for all the enthusiasm he heard in her voice.

“How’s the weather down there?”

“Fine.”

He pushed on. “Same here. You mentioned you wanted to talk about something before you go off to Spain ... ?”

“Nothing urgent.”

Was she talking through clenched teeth? “Aha. When are you coming home, may I ask?”

“I don’t know. But I do know why you’re calling me.”

“Yes, well, to find out what you wanted to talk about before Spain ...”

“You’re calling because your precious Grill is going to be yanked out from under you, and you think you can talk me out of it.”

“Edith ...”

“I don’t know what you men find to love about that tacky hole in the wall. My husband went there every morning of his life. You would have thought they were paying him to open up the place. Magdolen and I begged him to eat something sensible in his own home, but no! He marched right down there and ate God knows what and came home reeking of grease—which, in my opinion, killed him.”

“Grease?”

“Gorging himself on sausage and biscuits and grits and every other thing that wrecked havoc with his doctor’s orders, and where is he now?”

At peace, he wanted to say. “A double rent hike is ...”

“... is the smart thing to do, Timothy. My accountant is here. That’s exactly what we’ve been discussing. Put yourself in my shoes.” He heard the familiar whine overtaking her indignation. “If I don’t look after Edith, who
will?”

Her mood was changing. She was batting her eyelashes, he could just feel it. “I’d like to talk with you when you come home,” he said.

She breathed into the phone. “I won’t let you get away with one single, weensy thing, though I do hope you’ll try.”

“I don’t have a clue,” said the mayor, sucking up the last of her Diet Coke through a straw. “If somebody wants to hike rent, they hike rent. It’s still a free country, though God knows how long that’ll last with th’ rabble we’ve sent to Washington.”

“Can’t we declare it historic or something?”

“That won’t change a thing. Come to think of it, why don’t you talk to th’ landlord about it? I hear she’s taken a shine to you.”

He blanched. “Mayor, if you can’t help us fight progress around here, who can?”

“Truth is, I’m feelin’ too old to fight progress. And if you let on I said that, I’ll say you lied. I just want to get in th’ Winnebago with Ray and go to Colorado for a little fishin’.”

“Take me with you!” he implored.

They had concluded the antiphonal reading of the psalm when he looked up and saw an extraordinary sight.

Barnabas was trotting up the aisle, as a couple of astonished ushers stared after him.

He arrived at the front pew on the gospel side and halted, turning to stare into the face of an alarmed congregant.

Was this a dream? No, it was a nightmare, for Barnabas was now licking a perfect stranger—a visitor, no less—on the right ear.

“ ‘Let love be genuine,’ ” said the lay reader, carrying on with the Scripture reading, “ ‘hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good ...’ ”

How had he forgotten to close the garage door? He had never forgotten to close the garage door. He could hear laughter breaking out like measles.

“ ‘...
outdo
one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be
ardent
in spirit ...’ ”

Barnabas looked toward the lectern, then gave a sigh and lay down, his head on the visitor’s foot. The man wiped his glasses and his ear with a handkerchief and, smiling broadly, gave his rapt attention to the remainder of the reading from Romans.

“ ‘Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ”Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” ’ ”

That his dog stood for the Nicene Creed and again for the dismissal hymn was, he concluded, something to marvel at.

He pondered how to sign it. He might even have agonized over it, but he refused. Did he love her? Of course. That had never been the question.

“Where are th’ KitKats that was in the kitchen drawer?”

“Where are the KitKats that
were
in the kitchen drawer?”

“Yeah, where’re they at?” asked Dooley.

“Where are they.”

“I’m askin’ you. They ain’t in there.”

“They aren’t in there.”

“That’s what I said.”

He was unable to keep from laughing. “Dooley Barlowe, I’d like to wring your neck.”

“You’ll have t’ catch me,” Dooley said, grinning.

“Ask the question in proper English, for Pete’s sake. You talk like a Rhodes scholar for Marge Owen. Come on—give me a break.”

“Where are the dern KitKats?”

“That’s better. And the answer is, I don’t know.”

“That woman eat ’em is what I think.”

“Did you eat them and forget you did it?”

“I don’t forget stuff like that. I remember eatin’ candy, ’specially since I was savin’ those for me and Tommy.”

“I’ll look into it.” he said. Which was worse—the nervous tic that had lately begun to jump in his right cheek or the wrenching in his stomach?

“Cats?” she said, staring at him blankly. “I despise cats.”

“No. The candy. The candy that was in the drawer to the left of the sink. That is Dooley’s candy drawer.”

“I don’t know anything about candy,” she said with distaste, “as I never touch sweets.”

What could he say?