The Favor (16 page)

Janelle didn’t bother asking if Nan wanted to move to her bed. She waited a few minutes for her grandmother’s breathing to slow, then set her knitting aside to pick up her book. She’d put dinner in the Crock-Pot this morning and couldn’t be running the vacuum or anything like that while Nan slept. Nan’s naps were Janelle’s reading time...just like when Bennett was a baby, she realized.

As a single mom living far away from her family, Janelle hadn’t had anyone to rely on when her son was born. She’d been able to manage her schedule by working part-time from home and taking Bennett with her when she had to go into the office. She’d traded listings with other agents and found a decent babysitter for the times she had to do showings. She could vividly remember walking through a newly constructed condo with a newlywed couple and having to go into the bathroom to change her sodden breast pads because the neighbor’s cat had meowed and her milk let down. Bennett’s nap times had been precious, both because they were so fragile, so easily interrupted, but also because they were the only time Janelle had taken for herself.

Today, she’d read no more than a couple pages when her cell phone hummed in her pocket, and she went into the living room to answer it. Janelle had spoken with the school counselor many times on the telephone during her preparation for the move, though she’d never met her in person. “Mrs. Adams?”

“Ms. Decker.” There was a pause. Silence. A sigh. “I’m sorry to bother you, but...you’re going to need to come in and get Bennett.”

“Is he sick? What’s wrong?” Heart pounding, Janelle sank onto the couch, far less comfortable than the one in the family room.

“No. He’s not sick. He’s...” Another sigh, then Mrs. Adams’s voice turned brisk. “Bennett got in a tussle with some other boys, and he needs a change of clothes. Because it’s so close to the end of the day, I think it’s best if you just come get him. We can evaluate the situation and make a decision then.”

Janelle blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“They gave him a swirly.”

“A swirly...” Janelle shook her head. “Some boys at school dunked my son’s head in the toilet and flushed it?”

“Yes. There’s been some trouble with Bennett and these boys before.”

“Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”

Mrs. Adams was quiet for a few seconds too long. “I think you’d better come get him, Ms. Decker.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Janelle disconnected without waiting for an answer.

Nan still dozed on the family room couch, and though Janelle debated waking her, she settled for scrawling a note and putting it on the dining table where Nan would be sure to see it. She got to the school in fifteen minutes and signed in, heading straight for the counselor’s office. She spotted Bennett, hair wet, face red, shirt soaked, at once.

“Hey, buddy.” She squeezed his shoulder, but he pulled away. “What happened?”

“Ms. Decker.” Mrs. Adams held out her hand. “Let’s talk about this in my office.”

Janelle had spent her share of time in the counselor’s office. And the principal’s. She’d never been called in on her son’s behalf, though. Bennett had always been a good kid.

“Bennett, why don’t you tell your mom about what happened?”

“We were just fooling around,” he said at once. “It got out of hand. I know we shouldn’t have been doing it. I’m sorry.”

Janelle looked at Mrs. Adams, who remained impassive. “Is Bennett in trouble? I mean, he’s the one who got swirlied. Are the other boys being reprimanded?”

“Yes. They’ll have detention. Bennett’s being sent home today, but so far he hasn’t been assigned detention.”

“So far?”

“We’re investigating what exactly went on today in the boys’ lav,” Mrs. Adams said. “When we know more, we’ll take action.”

“Is my son in trouble?” Janelle looked at Bennett, who studied the floor.

Mrs. Adams hesitated. “We have some concerns about his progress in some of the classwork.”

“I got him a tutor. Is there something else?” Janelle twisted her fingers together in her lap. “Bennett? You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“We were just fooling around,” he repeated.

“That’s what the other boys said, too.”

“Mrs. Adams,” Janelle said coldly, “I’m getting the feeling you think my son’s not telling the truth.”

The counselor didn’t answer.

Janelle stood. “Come on, Bennett.”

“Ms. Decker—”

“I’m taking my son home. If you have any further concerns, please feel free to call me.” Janelle gestured at Bennett, who didn’t move fast enough to suit her. “Let’s go. Now.”

In the car, he said nothing while Janelle counted to ten, then twenty, then another ten while she figured out what to say. “What’s going on?” was all she could finally come up with.

“Nothing.”

She thought of the missing hats, the dirt and scrapes. “Are you being bullied?”

“No!”

“You can tell me.” She had to swallow hard to get the lump out of her throat. “If they’re bullying you, Bennett, I’ll talk to the school—”

“No,” he insisted. “Mom, don’t. It’s fine. We were just fooling around, I told you. It’s fine.”

She said no more into she’d pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition, but made no move to get out of the truck. “If something is going on, you know you can talk to me about it, don’t you?”

He shrugged and got out of the vehicle. Janelle followed him to the back door, pausing to toe off her shoes, but her head went up at the sound of Bennett’s startled cry.

“Mom!”

Heart dropping into her stomach, Janelle ran into the family room to find a chair overturned, Nan and Bennett nowhere to be found. They were both in the kitchen, Nan standing over a flaming pan on the stove. She backed away, eyes wide, as Janelle pushed past her to shove the pan off the burner. She twisted the knob to turn off the gas, but the flames didn’t disappear. Oil sloshed as she grabbed the pan and turned to dump it in the sink. Nan cried out, but Janelle couldn’t focus on her—she had to find the baking soda. Minutes later she’d dumped an entire box on the mess in the sink, dousing the flames.

The kitchen reeked, and everything was very, very quiet.

“Oh,” Nan said. “I’ve made a mess.”

There was the briefest second when Janelle imagined herself turning around and walking out the door. Getting in her truck. Driving away.

She didn’t.

“Bennett. Upstairs. Take a shower. Change your clothes. Put your dirty clothes in the basket and put it in the hall. Do your homework, and no games.” Bennett ducked away without protest, while Nan gave Janelle a trembling smile. To Nan, she said, “I’ve told you before, you need to let me handle the cooking.”

“You weren’t here,” Nan accused. “I woke up and you weren’t here.”

“I left you a note.”

Nan hesitated, shoulders hunched. She looked shrunken, diminished. “I didn’t read it. I didn’t...remember, honey. That you were supposed to be here. I woke up and was hungry for some fried potatoes. I didn’t remember you and Bennett.”

Janelle could think of no answer to that but words she didn’t believe. “It’s going to be fine. Everything’s okay.”

NINETEEN

JANELLE WAS MAKING a list.

Normally, she wasn’t the list-making sort. That had never meant she was unorganized—she’d needed to be on top of her game in the real estate business—just that she’d never been the kind who gained satisfaction from checking things off on a to-do list.

This house, though, needed a list. And how. Not just the usual sort, cataloging the amenities—the built-ins, the original woodwork, the hardwood floors that could be gorgeous if refinished. But also a list of the upgrades and repairs that the house would need before it could go on the market.

She didn’t want to make the list. Every item she wrote in her notebook was one more reminder that things were changing—had to change. No choice about it. She could refuse to get working on any of them, but it wouldn’t make a difference.

The problem was not just the number of problems she found as she went around the house, checking light switches and outlets and fixtures, but the cost of it all. Everything came down to money, in the end. As Mr. Tierney had said, it always came down to money when there wasn’t enough of it.

She peeked in on Nan, napping in her bed, before dialing Joey at work. He cut her off before she could do more than begin to describe the bulk of the work she thought needed to be done. He didn’t mean to be rude, she was sure, but still the brusqueness irritated her.

“How much do you think it’ll be? For the hot water heater and the dishwasher?”

“I haven’t really done any pricing yet. I’m just trying to get things organized, put in priority.” She paused. “It would be much nicer if we had a working dishwasher sooner rather than later. Same with the hot water heater. Right now I can get through one shower and one load of laundry—”

“The washer’s new,” he said. “We bought it for her just last year.”

The inside of Janelle’s cheek was already sore, but she bit it, anyway. “There’s nothing wrong with the washer. It’s the hot water heater. And about the rest...the big ticket items should be taken care of first. Someone might want to buy a house with outdated light fixtures or lovely wooden floors hidden under old and ugly carpet, but they’re not going to make a good offer on one without updated appliances.”

“What’s the matter with the carpet?”

Oops. Land mine. “It’s out of style and worn, that’s all. I pulled up a corner to see what sort of subflooring was under there, and—”

“It’s hardwood. When I was a kid, it was hardwood, but we paid for Mom to put in carpet for Christmas one year. We all chipped in.”

Janelle had never known the house without the burnt-orange shag carpet, so that Christmas must’ve been a long time ago. “We might want to consider ripping it out....”

“I don’t think so. No, I don’t think anyone will agree to that. If someone wants to buy the house, let them rip it out.”

Janelle wasn’t going to push it. She’d seen people cling to dumber things for longer, and for stupider reasons than sentimentality. “Okay. That’s fine. We can reevaluate it after...when the time comes.”

“And the rest of it?” he asked after a pause. “Those other things. The problems with the wiring, redoing the back porch steps...how much can we get away with leaving as-is?”

“I guess that depends on the buyer. And the market. All the things on the list are important to think about,” Janelle said. “Will some of them make a huge difference in whether or not we can sell the house? Probably not. But you never know.”

She’d been through this a hundred times before. Sellers wanted to get the most money out of their house, and the “you have to spend money to make it” argument didn’t always fly.

Her uncle sighed heavily. “Let me talk to Deb about it. And I’ll give Marty and Bobby and John a call, too. I’ll get back to you on the dishwasher. Have someone look at the hot water heater, see if you can get it fixed instead of buying new. Listen, I have to get back to work. Give my love to Mom, okay? I’ll shoot you an email with what we’ve decided.”

“Uncle Joey,” she said tightly. “Listen. I need a working hot water heater that can handle three people living in this house. There are dishes, showers, baths. The laundry alone is...” Janelle sighed and put a hand over her eyes for a moment. “Nan’s incontinent, okay? There are accidents. I need to be able to wash her things in water hot enough to get them really clean.”

“When we asked you to come out here and take care of her, it was with the understanding that you’d do that. That includes doing her laundry.”

For a moment, Janelle couldn’t think of how to reply. He’d totally missed the point. “I’m not complaining about doing the laundry. I’m just saying that I had to run a few loads of sheets and towels and other things today, and the hot water heater isn’t—”

“You know, we could’ve hired a nurse to come and stay with her, Janelle.”

“A nurse would’ve cost you more than a new hot water heater and a new dishwasher,” Janelle snapped. “You’ve given me power of attorney for your mother’s medical needs. Which means that if she goes to the hospital, I can sign her in. I can sign her out. I can determine if they give her lifesaving care. Or not. If she needs to be taken off of life support, I can do that, too, without consent from any of you. But I can’t spend more than a hundred dollars at a time at the store, and I can’t change any of the utilities or make repairs to this house without your permission.”

She paused to draw a breath, forcing herself to keep her voice calm and steady, not to give in to her emotions. “How does any of that make sense?”

Silence.

“What are you so worried about?” she asked finally, when he wouldn’t say anything.

“We’re not worried...it’s just that...look, the house is all she has,” Joey said. “The house and that little bit of money in the bank. It has to last. That’s all.”

Janelle thought of Nan, sleeping when she ought to be awake, and wakeful when everyone else slept. Of how frail she’d become. “It’s not like I’m asking to remodel the entire house. I don’t understand what the big deal is. If you don’t want me to tear up the carpet or make decorating improvements, that’s fine, but...but...” Janelle let out another low sigh, hating that it had come to this. “I need to be able to do these other things. Necessary things. Without being hobbled.”

“Your dad,” he said. And that was all.

Janelle’s stomach twisted. “What about my dad?”

“You don’t know, I guess. You wouldn’t.”

Across the alley, Gabe’s light went on. His curtain twitched, but he didn’t pull it all the way open. Janelle stood at the window, not even pretending otherwise, though her attention was taken up more by the phone pressed to her ear than any sort of strip show going on across the way.

Janelle could easily believe the worst of her father, but this sounded bad. “What did he do?”

“He was always a big talker, your dad.” Joey’s laugh sounded harsh. “A storyteller. He could sell ice to the Eskimo, you know what I mean?”

Janelle remembered her father’s stories. Promises made and broken. She’d learned not to count on him to show up on time for birthdays, but to expect something grandiose as a surprise when he did. “What did he do?”