Heaven Preserve Us (6 page)

And it didn't look like this guy was going away any time soon.

I had managed to get things set up in my basement workroom for
Kyla and Cyan to package the Saltea Bags when I heard a cupboard
door bang in the kitchen. I clomped up the narrow steps and
opened the door at the top.

"Hey. How was school?" I headed for the fruit bowl on the
counter.

Erin sat at the big butcher block table, shoving a cookie into
her face and reading ... what? I looked over her shoulder while
peeling a banana.

"Odoriferous? Paleethnology? Quacksalver? What the heck is
that?"

"That," she said, "is a spelling word."

"Well, duh. I kind of figured that out. But what does it mean?"

"I don't know. I just know how to spell it."

"But what good is that?"

"Ask me that after they give it to me in the spelling bee next
week." She exuded smugness.

"Well, sure. But what's it worth if you don't know what it
means? Isn't that what words are for, after all? To communicate?"

"God. You're so ... literal." The doorbell rang and she tossed
back the last of her milk. "That's Jonathan. We're studying."

"Okay. Bring him in. I'd like to meet him."

She looked less than happy at this prospect, but dutifully
brought in her visitor. He walked right up to me and stuck out his
hand. "Hi. I'm Jonathan Bell."

He was a little shorter than Erin, which was saying something.
Smooth brown hair, bright blue eyes. His expression was far more
sardonic than any eleven-year-old has a right to. This kid was going to get his growth spurt any second and start breaking girls'
hearts left and right.

"Hello, Jonathan. I'm Sophie Mae."

"Did you guys buy any Coke yet?"

I raised my eyebrows. "How about some orange juice?"

"Sorry, Jonathan." Erin sounded truly contrite that we didn't
have any sugary soda to give this kid. Apparently, he'd already
started in on the heart-breaking. I wasn't pleased to see him practice on Erin.

"That's okay," he said. "Juice's fine." He stood there while she
took the pitcher out and poured him a glass. He smiled when she
handed it to him. She smiled back.

I watched all this through narrowed eyes. He knew I was
watching, and turned that charming smile my direction. Little
scamp. I stuck with the narrowed eyes but allowed the corners of
my mouth to turn up.

"We're gonna study for the spelling bee," Erin said, grabbing
Jonathan's arm and pulling him into the living room.

"Right," I called after them. "I'll be down in my workroom. Yell
if you need anything."

They fell to whispering. Despite my protestations to Meghan
about the innocence of eleven-year-olds, I found myself curiously
loathe to leave them alone.

I went back downstairs as my teen helpers arrived. They began
filling oversized tea bags with the premixed herb and salt mixture.
Then the Saltea Bags would be heat-sealed with an iron. While
they worked, I finished packing the internet retail orders. By the
end of two hours they had four piles of bath tea bags on the long table that ran down the middle of my workroom, and I had several
boxes lined up along the wall, ready for UPS to pick up the next
day.

Yet somehow I had managed to find an excuse to run back upstairs every ten minutes or so.

Man. Those teen years might be just as hard on me as they
would be on Meghan.

"Is Barr going tonight?" Meghan asked.

"He said he was."

"Are we picking him up on the way over?"

I finished writing out a label for a jar of watermelon pickles
and considered the pile of heavy canning jars we'd moved out of
the pantry and stacked on the kitchen table. "I hadn't thought of
that. It'd sure be nice if he'd come here first and help us carry all
these preserves into the car."

Meghan smiled. "Good idea. You should get on that."

I rolled my eyes at her and went into the living room, snagging
the phone off the table in the hall on my way. Barr answered his
cell phone on the fifth ring as I was getting ready to leave him yet
another voicemail.

"Did I catch you in the middle of something? I have a quick
question," I said after we said hello. He sounded harried, and I decided my exciting morning at Heaven House could wait until we
were face to face.

"I can talk for a sec."

"Meghan and I decided we'd welcome the aid of a muscle-y
guy this evening. How would you like to come over before the preserves exchange and help us load up?"

"I'm not sure I can make it tonight, Sophie Mae."

I sighed. More work. Crap. I was developing a real dislike for
Andrew Maher, the new Chief of Police, despite the fact that I'd
barely spoken to the man.

"Listen. I'll do my best to be there. I will. But I'll have to meet
you at eight. Sorry I can't come help you and Meghan before."

"Yes. Well, you do sound pretty busy."

"Sophie Mae..."

"I'll see you tonight. If you can manage to tear yourself away."

"Oh, now, c'mon-"

I hung up.

Meghan looked up when I walked back into the kitchen. "He
coming early?"

I shook my head. "He'll meet us there. He says. Maybe."

She set down the label she was holding. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Bull puckey."

"He works all the time."

"You knew that when you got involved with him."

"I guess I thought he'd make more time to spend with me."

"Oh, for heaven's sake. You know he's completely infatuated
with you, don't you?"

I bit my lower lip. Infatuated? Infatuation was short-lived, by
definition. We'd been seeing each other for a little over three
months. If it was just infatuation, then the end might very well be near. Had I mistaken our entire relationship? I felt a strange combination of panic and embarrassment at the thought.

"Oh, it's fine," I said, forcing myself to shrug. "But we're on our
own with all those jars."

"Maybe I could call someone else to come help," she said, still
watching me. "A guy I know."

I smiled. It felt like I was baring my teeth at her. "We've always
managed before on our own. Did you bring out all the pickled
asparagus?"

"What? Oh, no, I started labeling the applesauce first."

"I'll get them." I hurried into the pantry and started taking jars
off the shelf.

And tried not to think about whether this was the beginning of
the end of my new relationship.

"Can we stop by Beans R Us on the way?" I asked.

"Why didn't you grab a cup of coffee at home?" Meghan sounded
as tired and cranky as I did.

"Didn't have time to make any before we had to leave."

What a day. I'd worked in the morning, gone to see Philip in
hopes of heading off a stalker, witnessed his collapse, covered the
phones until Ruth could get there, worked my butt off when I got
home, watched and worried about Erin and Jonathan, and then
spent two hours getting our contributions ready for the preserves
exchange. Meghan threw together a quick chicken quesadilla while
I hauled the boxes out to the trunk of her old Volvo, and we rushed
through dinner.

The food had helped, but I needed caffeine if I planned on getting through this evening without falling asleep on my feet.

"There'll be coffee there," Meghan said, and turned the opposite direction from Beans R Us.

Which was true; Heaven House always had a big pot of coffee
going. Still, I felt a flash of irritation. Over-brewed and perpetually stale, the coffee at HH was egregious. I had to dress it up with
cream and sugar, and I wouldn't normally mar any decent cup of
coffee that way.

Meghan knew this. She just didn't want to make the detour.
And since she was driving, she got to make that call.

Definitely irritating.

Then she sighed, low so Erin couldn't hear her in the back seat.
She'd had a long day, too. My irritation instantly morphed into
guilt.

"How many people do you think will show up?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Hard to tell. When we all met to set it up
everyone was excited. But now, with Philip in the hospital, some
people might not come. I know I'd rather have put if off altogether."

"Couldn't. Not everyone knows what happened."

Her brief glance held exasperation. "Exactly."

Okay. So I'd stated the obvious. Sue me.

QUIET MURMURS AND THE smell of wet paint greeted us as we
walked into Heaven House laden with boxes of asparagus and
watermelon pickles. Erin staggered under the weight of hers, and
once we were inside she immediately dropped it to the floor. The
jars jostled together with a loud crystalline rattle. I put my box
down on the first of three long tables arranged in the middle of the
room and went back to make sure nothing had broken. Erin had
made a beeline for the game room, where the sole attraction was a
pinball machine. Erin had never seen one before her mom began
spending time at HH, a fact that had initially surprised me.

Once Erin went back to pour a handful of quarters into Nardella's Treasures, I began unpacking our goodies. After tossing the
third empty carton under the table and straightening the lowhanging cloth to hide it, I stood up and looked around for
Meghan.

Instead, I saw Maryjake, which surprised me more than a little.
I had been sure she'd pass on the evening's festivities. Huge dark circles underscored her pale eyes, and her hangdog demeanor was
completely out of character. Her husband, James Dreggle, stood
nearby but not too close, watching her every move as she arranged
a precise pyramid of pint jars filled with bright yellow corn and
attractive green beans. His thick, dark beard cloaked his expression. Maryjake finished stacking her veggies, then turned to the
room and snapped her fingers, one of her standard attention getting maneuvers, but even that came across as desultory.

"Everyone, we're going to start the exchange soon, so please
finish up your displays in the next few minutes."