Who do i talk to, p.14
Who Do I Talk To?, page 14
Huh. Might be the first time in a month of Sundays I hadn’t been thinking about myself.
Hannah the Bored flagged me down at lunch. “So are you gonna let me do nails for the ladies or not? You said to give you activity ideas, an’ I’ve axed you twice.”
Had she really? Had to admit it was easy to ignore Hannah. She irritated me, just sitting around filing her nails. I made my voice light. “Hannah, you are free to do anyone’s nails at any time. Go for it.”
The young woman frowned. “But to do it right, I need lotsa diff ’rent stuff. Cuticle cutters, nail strengthener, lots of different colors o’ polish, clear coats. If you made it official, ladies could make appointments. Depends on what they want done, how long it takes. Full sets, gel overlays, French tips . . .” An excited grin lit up her face. “You should see the designs I can make—flowers an’ starbursts, stuff like ’at. But it takes special brushes and paint.”
I studied Hannah with new interest. Sounded like she knew what she was talking about. A crazy idea popped into my head. “Hannah, tell me, have you ever done nails professionally?”
“Ya mean like in a salon? Oh yeah. I started cosmetology school once, but my ol’ man got busted an’ . . . nah, never mind. Anyway, had to drop out after that. My aunt had this salon an’ she gave me a job, but . . . I don’t really know what happened, but she lost the salon, back taxes or somethin’, an’ I lost my job and ended up no place ta go. So”—the young black woman grinned flippantly—“here I am.”
“But can’t you get another job at a salon?”
She shrugged. “That’s what I wanna do, but most of ’em want ya ta graduate cosmetology, but can’t do that till I can pay for tuition, can’t get a job till I get a state ID, but I’m still waiting ta get a copy of my birth certificate. Wasn’t born in Chicago, so it’s takin’ awhile.”
Whew. I never really knew Hannah’s background. Who was her case manager? I knew Manna House worked on priorities and goals for each resident, and I didn’t want to get the cart before the horse, but—
“Hey, Miz Fairbanks. Let me do your nails.” Hannah grabbed one of my hands. “Oh, girl, they are in bad shape. I got a nice color, would look real good on you.”
I pulled my hand back. “Oh, that’s nice, Hannah, but I—”
“Aw, c’mon, Miz Fairbanks—”
“Call me Gabby, Hannah.”
“Okay. Gabby. But jus’ give me half an’ hour, show ya what I can do.”
Something Precious once said hovered at the edges of my memory. “When you been living on the streets, a bit of pamperin’ is pretty nice. Homeless women need ta feel like women, too, ya know.”
I relented. I would like to see what she could do.
By the time I left Manna House that evening, my nails glowed with a dark honey-peach nail color that did not clash with my hair. Hannah had soaked them—in a shampoo solution, but oh well—then she’d softened and rounded the cuticles, lotioned and massaged my hands, filed my nails, and painted them with an undercoat and a top coat. “My last couple bottles,” she’d said.
“That’s why I need ta get put on the activity list, so you can get me some real supplies.”
She had me convinced, but I told her I couldn’t promise what the budget would be.
I had one errand to do on the way back to the Baxters’—deposit my paycheck. When I had a chance, I was going to move my household account to the branch bank near the Sheridan El. But for now, I had to get off at Berwyn and deposit it at the bank near Richmond Towers. Not likely that I’d run into Philip at this hour.
Lucy still hadn’t shown up at Manna House by the time I’d left, even though there’d been brief thunderstorms off and on all day. Where did she go when she wasn’t at the shelter? I’d run into her three times in the park near Richmond Towers. Should I walk over there on the off chance I’d run into her? I didn’t have my umbrella, but when I came out of the bank, the sky was just overcast, so I took a chance.
No Lucy in the park. I even walked through the underpass to the beach. No sign of a purple knit hat. Drat! If I had my cell phone, I could call Mr. Bentley and tell him to keep a lookout when he was on the job, but . . . On a sudden impulse I headed straight for Richmond Towers and into the lobby. Mr. Bentley was holding the inside security door open for a resident whose arms were full of shopping bags from upscale stores, and his eyebrows went up like question marks when he saw me.
“Mrs. Fairbanks! Going upstairs to storm the fortress?”
I grimaced. “No, and I want to make this quick. Don’t really want to run into you-know-who. Could you keep a lookout for Lucy—you know, my bag lady friend? She disappeared from the shelter this weekend, and I kind of want to find her. She wears a purple knit hat Estelle made for her—you’ve seen it, I’m sure. Second thing, my husband is supposed to bring my sewing machine down here to the desk for me to pick up. Either one, would you call me at the shelter and let me know? Or call Estelle, whatever’s easier.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Fairbanks.”
I felt a little bad at how brief I’d been with Mr. B, but at least I’d made an effort to find Lucy. Hopefully my mom wouldn’t ask about her . . . but when I got to the Baxters’ house, that was the first question out of her mouth. “Did Lucy send me a message? I know she’s worried about Dandy. Did you tell her he’s getting better and we’ll be back tomorrow?”
I put her off as best I could—no, Lucy was out, but I was sure she’d be glad to see us as soon as Dandy was strong enough to go back—then collapsed on the stool in the Baxter kitchen with the glass of iced tea Jodi handed to me. “Hard day?” she asked.
I grinned at their cats, weaving in and out between her bare legs. “Actually, a good day. The prayers last night—they really made a difference, Jodi. Not sure I can explain it.”
She just grinned and continued to chop vegetables for a stir fry. Patches, the calico, meowed pitifully. But Peanut, the black-and-white, hopped into my lap, knowing a sucker when he saw one.
I stroked the beautiful fur absently and was rewarded with a loud purr. “But I’m wondering if you have a phone number for the Yada Yada lady—I forget her name—who owns a beauty shop and needs a new nail girl?”
“You mean Adele Skuggs. Sure—I think her shop is open on Monday nights. You want to make an appointment? If she’s got an opening, I could drive you over when Denny gets home.”
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.”
