Who Do I Talk To? (44 page)

All six of us had spent the previous afternoon loading Moby Van with my old single bed, which we'd taken apart, and several boxes of dishes, silverware, pots and pans, blankets, sheets, and towels—most of which had seen better days, but hey, at this point in my life, something was better than nothing. We even squeezed in Mom's favorite wingback upholstered rocker and the Oriental rug from the dining room. “You need
something
to sit on in your new apartment,” Aunt Mercy had insisted.

Celeste had had the brilliant idea of making Aunt Mercy the power of attorney for Mom's estate, even though she—Celeste—was still technically the executor, so we stopped packing long enough to drive back over to Mr. Putnam's law office to fill out the necessary forms, sign our names, and get them notarized. The man's secretary got a bit flustered when we piled into the law office with no appointment, but given the circumstances, Mr. Putnam agreed to stay an extra hour to squeeze us in.

“Huh. Probably charged us extra too,” Honor grumbled on our way out.

Aunt Mercy had come over early Tuesday morning to say good-bye to all of us before going to work at the library. “I'll move this real estate transaction along as quickly as possible, Gabby,” she whispered in my ear just before I climbed into the driver's seat. “I know you need the money to get on your feet and get your boys back. Now go before my mascara runs and I look like a raccoon when I show up for work.” I felt a pang as I backed Moby Van out of the driveway and waved wildly to my aunt out the window, yelling good-bye, which got Dandy all excited, barking until the house and Aunt Mercy disappeared from sight.

With the van loaded to the gills, we left Minot behind and headed down the two-lane highway, intent on taking I-94 all the way back to Chicago. Jodi and I decided we'd split the cost of a motel room somewhere around Minneapolis—if we could find one that allowed pets—and get back at a decent time the next day. “You sure?” I asked. “That was an awful short visit with your parents. We could go back through Des Moines, same way we came.”

Jodi shook her head. “Uh-uh. Right now I'd rather get home to Denny.” She looked at me a little doe-eyed. “This is the longest we've been apart since Denny and the kids drove to New York to see
his
folks a couple of years ago. I had to stay home because I'd been sick all spring, and cases of SARS were cropping up everywhere . . .”

We talked a lot, Jodi and I, on the way back to Chicago. But I steered away from saying anything about the breakdown between Philip and me until I heard Lucy snoring in the backseat after we ate the sack lunch Aunt Mercy had packed for us. Jodi had taken over the driving, her shoulder-length brown hair caught back with an elastic band to keep it off her neck. She was a few years older than I, but somehow managed to look younger. Her face was relaxed, her eyes alive. The look of a woman who knows she's loved.

“I'm jealous, you know.”

Jodi glanced at me, startled, then looked back at the highway. “What do you mean?”

“You and Denny. You guys ought to clone your relationship, sell it on eBay. You'd make a ton.”

She slipped a small grin. “Yeah, well, we have our moments. Me, I'm a terrible nag. And Denny can be
so
dense.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But it's obvious you guys love each other. Philip and I were that way once. Crazy about each other. Gosh, Jodi, the man's so gorgeous I used to melt like chocolate on a hot day whenever he came in the room. We laughed at his mother's objections to our ‘mismatch'—almost like marrying me was his rebellion against their snooty conventions. He was going to be the rising star in the commercial development business, and I . . .” I grabbed my T-shirt and dabbed at my eyes. “I tried, Jodi, I really tried to be the good corporate wife. But somewhere along the way, I lost myself. Lost Philip too . . .”

I leaned against the passenger-side window, watching the Minnesota hills rolling past. “It's like I don't even recognize him anymore . . . couldn't relax and be myself when he was around . . . everything I did was wrong. But”—I felt heat in my chest—“I still can't believe he just kicked me out, kicked my mother out, even kicked the dog out! I mean, who
is
that man?!”

My voice had risen, and I glanced into the backseat to be sure Lucy was still sleeping. “He even started gambling,” I muttered darkly. “Practically every weekend! Last time I talked to Henry Fenchel, it sounded like Philip's new love affair with the dice was starting to affect their business partnership.”

We rode in silence for a few minutes. Then Jodi glanced at me. “Do you pray for Philip, Gabby?”

I gaped at her. Pray for
Philip
? I'd certainly done a lot of praying
about
Philip. Or ranting at God about Philip. But pray
for
him? “Not really,” I said slowly. “I've been too mad.”

“Maybe you should. He sounds lost.”

We found a motel just across the Minnesota-Wisconsin state line that allowed pets for a ten-dollar fee. Lucy complained about stopping, said she could sleep in the car just as well. “Maybe
you
can,” I muttered. “
We
need a bed.” The room had two queen beds, and Lucy claimed the one farthest from the door—after double-locking the door and jamming the desk chair under the handle. She didn't bother to undress either. I shrugged at Jodi.
Go figure.

I was used to sleeping with Lucy's snores back in the bunk room at Manna House, but I don't know if Jodi got very much sleep. At one point, I got up and rolled Lucy over onto her side, and we managed to fall asleep before she moved again.

In the morning we treated ourselves to breakfast at a nearby pancake house before hitting the road again. Couldn't believe how many pancakes Lucy was able to put away. I asked if she'd like to sit up front for a while, but the old lady shook her head. “Nah, me an' Dandy is all settled back here. 'Sides, can't keep up with all that chitchattin' you two doin'. Ain't got no kids to talk about, ain't got no husband, ain't been anywhere, ain't got nuthin' to say.”

I laughed and glanced in the rearview, still not used to seeing Lucy without her purple hat. “Okay, just one question, Lucy,” I said over my shoulder, “and then we'll leave you out of the chitchatting. Where did you learn how to clean a bathroom like you did at my mom's house? You even folded the ends of the toilet paper in that cute little hotel style too. I think you've been living a secret life.”

“Humph. Ain't got no secret life. Got this job as a hotel maid when I first come to Chicago, but . . .” Her voice drifted off. “Let's jus' say, cleanin' bathrooms wasn't the only thing I learned on that job. All sorts o' people gonna take advantage of ya any way they can, 'specially if they think you ignorant. Decided it was safer out on the streets. Been makin' my own way ever since. Just . . . lonely sometimes.” A long pause. “Gonna miss Miz Martha.”

Jodi and I looked at each other. That might explain the triple door-locking last night. Still, there was a lot of story left out of that two-bit summary. But at least it was more than she'd ever given up before. “Thanks, Lucy.”

“Yeah? Thanks fer what?”

“For being a good friend. I think you were the best friend my mother ever had.”

Lucy made a funny noise. “Just . . . shut up an' drive, will ya?”

We laughed and settled down for the final day of our trip. Jodi studied the road atlas. “Gee, it's not that far. We oughta be home in six hours or so.”

Home . . .
For the first time in weeks, I let myself think about what that meant. I was still pretty broke, but within a few days or weeks, I'd have real money in my bank account. “Can't believe my mom actually left us an inheritance,” I murmured. “Paid off the house when my dad died, bought that term life insurance . . .”

The reality of it all was beginning to sink in. I might even have enough to buy a house one of these days—but that would have to wait. I had more immediate goals. “Can you believe it, Jodi? I'm going to be able to rent that apartment, get my boys back here in time for school—”

“Buy the whole building if ya want!” Lucy quipped from the backseat.

A big semi thundered past us, making the van shudder. I gripped the steering wheel, wondering if I'd heard right. I looked over at Jodi. She was staring at me. “Gabby! What Lucy just said.”

“Buy the—?” Now a shudder did ripple through my insides. I shook my head. “Oh, no, no, I don't think so. I don't have
that
much . . .”

“How much? I mean, how much are they selling it for? You might have enough for a down payment.”

“Yeah, buy the building,” Lucy growled. “I might even move in. Or visit ya.”

I kept shaking my head. “You guys are crazy, you know that?”

Jodi laughed. “Yeah, I know. God is crazy too—look at how He answered our prayer about how to get your mom's body back to North Dakota for burial! But Gabby, think about it! Josh and Edesa told me you wanted Manna House to use the Dandy Fund to buy a building for second-stage housing for mothers with children, but—”

My ears got red. “Yeah, what did I know? We're riding in the Dandy Fund.”

Jodi was practically bouncing in her seat. “Gabby! Listen to me! What did Mabel Turner say to you when you applied for the job at Manna House? You told me yourself !
She
believes God brought you to Chicago because He has a purpose for you at Manna House.”

My mind was tumbling even as she spoke.
A six-flat . . . not far from Manna House . . . up for sale . . . Precious and Sabrina . . . Tanya and Sammy . . .

Jodi punched me on the shoulder. “Maybe this is it.”

chapter 45

The idea of buying that six-flat was flat-out crazy, probably impossible . . . but it grew on me like a second skin. Dozens of questions tumbled through my thoughts, and I jabbered at Jodi like a set of wind-up chatty teeth all the way back to Chicago. Was a building for second-stage housing a good idea? Mabel had thought so, just not yet. Did I even want to live in Chicago? Well, yeah, because I loved my job—more than that, if Mabel was right, God had called me to it—and it made sense to live close by. Would my boys want to live there? Moot point.
I
was going to live there, even if I just rented the first-floor apartment, and they were going to live with me, because Lee Boyer said I had a slam-dunk custody case. But what about Philip? What if we got back together? There was always that possibility, wasn't there? Buying a building was a really big leap to take by myself. What would he think? Was it a smart thing to do with my money? Good question. Probably should invest it. But what about investing in the lives of women like Precious and Tanya? How would buying a building work with Manna House? I had no idea. Would my inheritance even make a dent in the asking price for the building? Probably not . . .

“Well,
duh
!” Jodi said. “Pull over. Let me drive, and you can call your lawyer friend and ask what they're asking! That'd be a start anyway. Look, there's an exit up there with a Wendy's. Time for lunch anyway.”

We made a pit stop for hamburgers and fries, fed and watered Dandy, filled the gas-guzzler on my debit card, stretched our road-weary muscles, and climbed back in the van for the last leg of our trip, with Jodi behind the wheel.

“Step on it,” Lucy grumbled. “I'm tired. Me an' Dandy 'bout ready to get out an' walk.”

“Just a few more hours, Lucy,” I said, twisting in my seat. “Don't blame you. But you and Dandy have been good travelers. I'm glad you came.”

“The phone, Gabby,” Jodi reminded me as she pulled onto the interstate. “Call the lawyer guy.”

“You
are
a nag, you know that?” But I dutifully dug out my cell phone, found Lee's number, and pushed the Call button. “He's going to think I'm nuts . . . Lee? Hi, it's Gabby.”

“Gabby!” Lee Boyer's voice crackled in my ear. “I was hoping to hear from you. Where are you? How'd it go driving the casket back to, uh, North Dakota, right?”

“Yeah. Minot. Real good. We're still on the road, almost to the Illinois border, though. But, hey, today's Wednesday, I think I missed my eleven o'clock appointment, so thought I'd check in.”

He chuckled in my ear. “Yeah, I bill double for missed appointments.”

Jodi was making
hurry-up
signs. I waved her off. “Well, just wanted to let you know it's going to work out for me to rent that apartment after all. You didn't call the guy to cancel my contract or anything, did you?”

“No, no, I said we'd deal with that when you got back. But that's good, real good! What happened?”

“Just . . . well, I got some inheritance money I didn't expect.

I'll explain more when I see you. But I have another question.” I held my hand up to stop Jodi's impatient gestures. “Do you happen to know the asking price for the whole building?”