Who Do I Talk To? (20 page)

I grimaced. “I should. I need a haircut. But actually, it's for somebody I know at the shelter who does nails and needs a job.” I waggled my nails. “I brought home a sample. Not sure how long they'll look good, though. I'm hard on hands.”

Jodi laughed. “Uh-huh. Sneaky way to get out of doing the dishes—oh, here's Denny. ”

The back door banged open, and Jodi's husband came in. He pecked his wife on the cheek, then handed me a plastic bag. “Something I thought you could use.”

“Me?” I was so flustered, I hardly knew what to do. I pushed Peanut off my lap, reached into the bag, and pulled out a box. A cell phone. “Oh, Denny, I can't accept this. It's too much!”

He chuckled, sending those cheek dimples into big crevices. “I don't think so. It's one of those pay-ahead phones—no bells or whistles. Just a phone, but it's got decent service. You need it so you can call your boys whenever you want, and . . . whatever.”

I glanced at Jodi. Was she okay with her husband giving me a gift? But she was smiling at her husband with obvious approval.

Oh dear God, I do need my own phone . . .
“I—I hardly know what to say.” I opened the box and took out the phone. Petite. Ice blue. A mini lifeline. And I did just get a paycheck. “Thanks, Denny. I'll pay you back.”

Denny laughed and shook his head. “Uh-uh. The phone's yours, Gabby. But you can pay the monthly—the paperwork's in there. It's already charged and activated.” He clapped his hands together. “Okay, enough schmaltz. What's for dinner?”

I clutched the phone to my chest and slipped out to the back porch. Might as well try it out, find out how P. J.'s first day of lacrosse camp went.

chapter 20

After supper, I spent an hour on the Baxters' back porch swing, going over the power of attorney forms with my mother. “This is just in case something happens and you can't make these decisions yourself,” I assured her. Dandy, bright-eyed, seemed to enjoy our company. He'd cleaned out his food bowl, and even though it was a struggle getting out of the cushiony dog bed, he limped over and licked my toe.

My mother beamed. “See, Gabby? He's better. We can go home now.”

Home.
Did she mean North Dakota? . . . or Manna House? I let it go.

Mom went to bed early, but I stayed on the porch, inputting phone numbers into my new phone from the list I'd made before my old one totally lost its juice. Jodi came out and handed me a slip of paper. “Here are a few more numbers you might need—the top one is ours, then Josh's and Edesa's cells, and that one is Adele's Hair and Nails. It's almost nine—I think that's when she closes on Monday. Might be a good time to call her about your nail girl. Oh—wait a minute.” She disappeared inside, then reappeared with their kitchen cordless. “Here, use our phone. Don't waste your minutes.”

“Thanks, Jodi.” I tapped in the number for Adele's Hair and Nails . . . but as the phone rang, I started to have second thoughts. Did I really know Hannah well enough to recommend her to—“Jodi Baxter! Make it quick, girl. I'm trying to get out of here.” The voice exploded in my ear with no introduction.

“Uh, is this Adele Skuggs? Sorry, it's not Jodi. Just using her phone. This is Gabby Fairbanks—I met you last night at your Yada prayer thing.”

A deep chuckle on the other end was somewhat reassuring. “Oh, sure. I remember. What can I do for you, Gabby? Want me to do something with that white girl 'fro you've got?”

A white girl
what?
“Oh . . . my hair. Well, yeah, guess I do need a cut.” Understatement. “But I was calling to ask if you still needed a nail girl.”

“Why? You want the job?”

Jodi must have noticed the flustered look on my face. “Don't let her muddle you,” she stage-whispered. “That's just her way.”

Okay then. Two could play. “Oh, you wouldn't want me. You'd lose all your customers.” I was rewarded by Adele's throaty laugh in my ear. “But actually,” I hurried on, “there
is
a young woman at Manna House who's had experience in a nail salon, and she needs a job. I don't know if she's what you're looking for, but—”

“Really? Well, bring her in. I'll give her an interview. Can you . . . just a sec.” I heard pages flipping. “I have a cancellation at two o'clock tomorrow. Can you bring her in? And might as well give you a cut while we're at it.”

“Uh . . . sure. Two o'clock tomorrow.”

I hung up and looked at Jodi, who was laughing. “You just got run over by a steamroller, didn't you? Well, that's Adele!”

Tuesday morning my mother told me Dandy was much better and she thought we all ought to go back to the shelter. “I think she's bored,” Jodi murmured to me. “But I'm happy to have her stay as long as you want. She's no trouble. In fact, I'm keeping the car today and going to run some errands. Does she like to shop?”

I talked my mother into letting Dandy rest another day, privately hoping we could stay out the week until the Baxters' daughter came home. I was glad, because when I got to Manna House, a reporter and a cameraman accosted me at the front steps. “Mrs. Fairbanks! How is the Hero Dog doing? No one has seen Dandy for three days! Has he taken a turn for the worse?”

Oh good grief.
“He's fine. He's resting out of the limelight and hoping all you good people will forget about him and let him return to doggy oblivion.” I gave what I hoped was a friendly smile and hustled up the stairs.

“But Mrs. Fairbanks!” the reporter called after me. “What about all the donations people are sending to the shelter since Dandy caught the intruder and saved the life of one of your staff ? What are you going to do with the money?”

I nearly tripped on the last step, but caught myself. I turned slowly. “I'm sorry. I don't know anything about that.” I punched the buzzer, and the door clicked to let me in.

Angela Kwon looked up as I came in and waved a slip of paper at me. But I ignored the receptionist and headed straight into Mabel's office. “Money?” I demanded, even before the director looked up. “People are giving the shelter money? Mabel, we can't use Dandy to get contribu—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Mabel's face clouded. “Close the door, Gabby, and sit down.”

I obeyed, stifling a groan. Why didn't those reporters just go away?

Mabel stood up behind her desk and leaned forward on her knuckles. “First of all, Gabby Fairbanks, we are not
using
Dandy to get contributions. Second, we
have
received a sudden flood of donations in the mail—unsolicited, I might add. Third, I am calling a staff meeting this morning to bring everyone up to date. What we do with the money will be a decision of the board.” She sat back down with a
whump
. “Satisfied?”

I cringed. “Sorry. It's just . . . I got accosted by a reporter and a cameraman two minutes ago who were asking
me
what I was going to do with all the donations Dandy had generated for the shelter. If Philip hears about this on TV, he's going to be furious.”

Mabel's expression softened. “Apology accepted. I agree; it's a bit startling. But we can talk about it at the staff meeting.”

“How much—?”

“Staff meeting. Ten thirty. Now, go, Gabby.” Mabel stuck on a pair of reading glasses and turned back to her computer.

Angela waved the sticky note at me as I walked back into the foyer. “Message for you, Gabby. And don't forget to sign in.”

I took the note.
Lee Boyer at Legal Aid returned your call.
Oh good. And when I got to my office and booted up my computer a few minutes later, there was an e-mail reply from Philip. All it said was,
OK
.

I stared at the e-mail a long time. He was agreeing to leave my sewing machine at the lobby desk of Richmond Towers, wasn't he? So why did that “OK” make me feel crummy? So brief.

Dry. Impersonal. Like . . . like being offered a thimble of water when I was dying for a long, cool drink.

No, no. Couldn't go there. I eyed the Bible on my desk. I hadn't really followed through on my resolve to read it regularly.

Then again, I hadn't expected my whole life to turn upside down, like that disaster movie where the huge ship
Poseidon
got flipped over by a monster wave and everything was total chaos. A little hard to find “quiet time.” Still, when I was reading the gospel of Matthew every day during our vacation in North Dakota, God had used it to speak to me, hadn't He? Maybe I should—But maybe I should call Lee Boyer first. Hopefully he had some good news. I dialed my office phone . . . and finally got through. “Mr. Boyer? Gabby Fairbanks. I was wondering what you've been able to find out.”

The
Gabby Fairbanks?” The male voice on the other end “chuckled. “When I saw you on Friday, I didn't know you were such a celebrity.”

I felt my ears turning red, glad he couldn't see me blushing.

“I didn't know it either. Yeah, we had a bit of excitement here at the shelter that night, but I think it's blowing over. Hope so, anyway. My husband was livid when he saw us on TV.”

Now the laughter was outright. “I can just imagine.” He took a few seconds to recover. “Anyway . . . I don't think it'll hurt your case—might even help. But it'd be best if we could go over our next steps in person rather than over the phone. And bring in those power of attorney papers I gave you, if possible. Can you come in tomorrow at eleven?”

Right. The papers. I still needed to get them signed and notarized. “Sure. I think eleven would work.”

“All right. Are you doing okay?”

His question caught me off guard. “Uh, actually, yes, I am. Some friends of the shelter took us home with them for the weekend and are actually taking care of my mother and Dandy for a few days. I almost feel like a normal person this week.” I didn't mention the Yada Yada group and the impact of their prayers. Might sound a little weird.

“Atta girl. You're going to be fine. And we're going to stick it to your husband with everything we've got. You just hang in there. See you tomorrow, Gabby.”
Click.

I almost said, “
Wait! I don't want to ‘stick it to my husband.' I just want my life back!
” But he was gone. And I had to admit, it was nice of him, asking if I was okay, telling me to hang in there. Calling me by my familiar name.

The phone call had definitely perked up my spirit.

I looked at my watch. Ten fifteen. Still had a little time before the staff meeting. Maybe I could get in a few minutes of Bible reading . . . wait! I had to find Hannah and tell her about the appointment at Adele's Hair and Nails!
And
find out how to get there!

Hannah went berserk when I told her she had a job interview. She threw her arms around me and practically picked me up in her excitement. “Oh, Miz Fairbanks, thank you, thank you, thank you . . . oh! What should I wear? Is my hair okay?”

I looked at her critically. She was a big girl, but not fat. Medium-brown skin, smooth, not rough and scarred like some of the women who'd been out on the streets for years. Hair was braided tight to her head, without extensions. She probably did it herself, but it was neat. “Do you have a skirt? You don't have to be fancy. But dress as businesslike as possible. Iron whatever you've got. And don't chew gum. Never, never. This woman has a thing about gum.” I grinned. “Now, go. We need to leave by twelve thirty.” And
I
needed to get to the staff meeting.

Only five of us—Mabel, myself, Angela, Estelle, who blew in right at ten thirty, and Stephanie Cooper, the DCFS social worker who came on Tuesdays and Thursdays for case management meetings—gathered in the schoolroom on the main floor. I expected Mabel to plunge right into the matter at hand, but we spent the first ten minutes just praying. Well, mostly it was Mabel and Estelle, but the two of them praised God for all He was doing at Manna House, for the progress many of the residents were making toward their goals, and that none of the residents or staff had been injured during the break-in over the weekend. “An' we ask You to heal sweet Dandy,” Estelle added, “who risked his own safety to protect the women here. An' Your Word tells us to pray for our enemies, so guess we oughta be prayin' for that perp who broke in here. Turn him around, Lord. Clean him up and set him on the right path. An' we give You thanks that Dandy didn't hurt him too bad.”

The rest of us looked at each other self-consciously as the prayers ended. Praying for the “perp” wasn't exactly at the top of the prayer list for most of us.

Mabel told the staff what the rest of Chicago already seemed to know—that good-hearted people who'd seen the TV clips about Hero Dog stopping an intruder at a local women's shelter were sending donations to Manna House. “A few are earmarked to help with Dandy's medical expenses,” she said, with a nod in my direction, “but most are coming in as general donations.”