Troubled waters, p.14
Troubled Waters, page 14
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The heat had done a number on both of them. When they arrived back at the house, Macey, sticky with sweat, was astonished to find that it was already four o’clock. She’d always thought time moved so slowly here. Evelyn had collapsed into her easy chair, and Macey made sure she had a tall glass of cool water next to her.
While her mother “rested her eyes,” Macey used the kitchen phone to make a few calls, to see about rearranging her flight schedule. It took thirty minutes, but she managed to get a flight out at one in the afternoon the following day, still leaving her plenty of time to go to the bank, resolve her mom’s financial situation, and then head home to Dallas.
She was climbing the stairs to go put moisturizer on her sunburned skin when she heard the faint ring of the phone. She realized it was her cell and tripped twice trying to get to it before the voicemail kicked in. She pounced on her bed and reached for it, hitting the middle button with the blue line across it.
“Hello?”
“Macey Steigel?”
Yes.
“This is Thornton Winslow, from the network.”
Macey’s heart stopped. “Mr. Winslow. Hello.”
“I understand your father died.” His voice came through thick and distinguished.
“Yes. I’m here in rural Kansas, wrapping up a few things for my—”
“Can you fly to New York on Thursday?”
“This Thursday?”
“I understand we’d set something up for a week from Tuesday, but that’s not going to work for me.”
Macey swallowed. “Thursday’s fine.”
“We’ll arrange everything from this end.”
“All right.”
“Good. Then we’ll see you Thursday.”
“Okay. And thank—” The line went dead. Macey sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath, running her fingers through her tangled, windblown hair. This was going to be a tough business, but she was up for it. She once heard that famed journalist Peter Tollenhause had missed his own mother’s funeral to cover an assignment in the Middle East. The network wasn’t interested in an employee’s family matters or personal problems. You served them with your whole heart or you didn’t serve at all.
A stark beep from her cell phone told her that she’d forgotten to end the call. She pushed the button and fell back into the pillows. She should call Mitchell and Bethie right away, but she decided to wait until tomorrow. She didn’t have any other close friends to speak of and was a little disappointed at the anticlimax of it all. She then thought of her mom and got up to go downstairs to share the big news with her. Though she wouldn’t understand just how incredible it all was, at least she’d smile and nod and be happy for her.
At the top of the stairs Macey could hear her mother talking with someone, whom she assumed was either Patricia or Margie or some other church member who had stopped by. As she headed down, though, she realized her mother was on the phone.
“Why, thank you,” she heard her mother say and then laugh. It was nice to hear her mom laugh. “Yes. I am very concerned about that sort of thing.”
The conversation went on as Macey stood at the living room bay window and looked out across the river. From the window she couldn’t see Noah’s house. She thought about stepping outside just to do this very thing but then quickly dismissed the thought and continued to listen to her mother on the phone, wondering which friend she was chatting with.
“Well, no, it’s a long tale, and I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than listen to an old woman’s sob story. . . . You’re so kind. Are you from around here?”
Macey frowned. Perhaps her mother wasn’t talking to a friend. Staying put in the living room, she listened more carefully.
“My goodness! You must be racking up quite a phone bill then. . . . Oh, well, aren’t you so nice. . . . No, no, I live by myself now. My husband just recently passed on.”
Macey decided to go into the kitchen. She found her mom standing at the counter, the short phone cord barely reaching across the narrow room. Evelyn smiled and waved her over to the fridge, mouthing she’d just made some tea. Macey nodded and started to reach for a glass to pour herself some so she’d have a reason to stay in the kitchen and not look like she was eavesdropping.
“Oh, thank you. You’re very kind. . . . Yes, that’s what my daughter keeps saying.” She winked at Macey and then stared back down at the floor. “Uh-huh . . . uh-huh . . . Yes, that sounds very simple to me. . . . Uh-huh . . . No, no, dear, I’m not too savvy on things like this. But this does sound like a good idea.”
Macey forgot to pretend to be interested in tea. Instead, she stood near the fridge, listening to Evelyn.
“Okay, sure, that would be fine. You sound like a very decent young man. Are you married? . . . I’ve got a beautiful daughter and she’s very successful. . . . That’s true. You are quite a ways away. . . . What’s that? . . . Oh, I’m sorry, you needed what now? . . . Okay, well, my memory’s not what it used to be. Let me see if I can recall it. . . 442-77—” Evelyn stopped and looked to the ceiling as if searching the far corners of her mind—“is it 41 or 44?”
Macey suddenly realized what was happening. “Mother!”
Evelyn startled and turned to her daughter, frowning and confused.
“Mother!” Macey said again loudly. “What are you doing? Are you giving out your social security number?”
“Hold on,” Evelyn said into the phone and then covered the receiver. “Dear, what are you ranting about?”
“Mom, you’re not giving your social security number to some stranger on the phone, are you?”
Evelyn looked squarely at her. “Well, yes. This man on the other end, I think his name is Mark, he told me that if I give him my social security number and bank account number, he would be able to double my money in three months, and after that, he could triple my money in five months.”
Macey snatched the phone out of her mother’s hand and screamed into the receiver, “You listen to me, you pathetic piece of—” She glanced at her mom, lowering her voice a bit. “I know what you’re up to, and if you EVER call this number again, I will personally hunt you down and—”
The phone clicked. The man had hung up. Macey was breathing hard. She wanted to finish giving the jerk a piece of her mind, but instead she was left with an operator instructing her to hang up and try again. She firmly placed the phone back on the wall cradle and swung around to face her mother, whose eyes were wide and distraught.
“What in heaven’s name did you do that for?” she asked.
Macey rubbed her temples and reminded herself she was talking to her mom, not the crook on the phone. “Mother, listen to me. Are you listening to me?” Evelyn nodded. “Don’t ever give out any personal information, especially any numbers, over the phone or to anyone you don’t know you can trust. Not your social security number. Not your bank account numbers. Not your driver’s license number.”
Her mother was still nodding, but Macey knew it was out of nervousness and confusion, not because she comprehended what she’d just told her. She clasped her hands together in front of her lips, drew a deep breath, and asked her mom to sit at the kitchen table with her. Evelyn obeyed, and Macey sat down with her, remembering suddenly how gentle and understanding Patricia had been with the elderly people at the church picnic.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Please forgive me.”
Her mom’s trembling lips formed a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that . . . whatever I wasn’t supposed to do.”
“I know that man sounded friendly, but do you know what he was doing?”
“He said he was a financial planner, just like the man you’d mentioned last night. He sounded very knowledgeable, and he was also such a kind young thing.”
Macey shook her head. “No, Mom, actually he’s a crook.”
“A crook?” Evelyn laughed. “How could you tell that over the phone?”
Macey made her tone stay firm yet quiet. “Because he asked for your bank numbers and social security number.”
“But he said he needed those in order to double my money and secure my financial future.”
“What he needed your numbers for was to steal your money and also your identity. People like him sound friendly, Mom, but they’re not. They go through the newspaper looking at the obituaries with the purpose of preying on recently widowed women, hoping they’ll trust anyone who comes along and promises security—what they call financial independence. He was planning to take you for everything you had.” Macey studied her mother’s soft eyes in hopes a light would come on. Instead, Evelyn’s brow dropped low across her eyes, and she looked as if she was worried about Macey. “Mom, that ‘kind young thing’ was not a good person. He was a thief. Do you understand now?”
“Well, maybe such a thing happens in the big city, but this is a small town. We don’t have that sort of problem here.” She tapped her fingers lightly against the table. “Besides, he said he was from Connecticut. How would he know I was widowed if he was in Connecticut?”
Macey bit her tongue for a couple of seconds to keep herself from losing control. “They have ways of finding things out, and chances are he was probably not from Connecticut. For all we know, he could’ve been calling from Parsons.”
Evelyn studied Macey with a worried expression, and Macey could hardly keep from exploding. Her mother wasn’t getting it; she probably thought Macey was paranoid, the result of living in the “big city” for too long.
“Well, whatever the case may be, he’s gone now and I’m getting a little hungry. What sounds good for dinner? I can thaw out some beef.”
Evelyn began to rise and go to the fridge, but Macey said, “Mom, please.” Evelyn turned around. “Promise me you’ll never give those numbers to anyone you don’t know.”
Evelyn’s features turned bright and cheerful. “Macey, I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
Macey was about to explain that it wasn’t about that, that it was a common sense issue and that her mother was much too naïve, when the phone rang again. Macey grabbed it. “Hello.”
“Uh . . . Macey?”
“Yes?”
“Hi, uh . . . it’s Diana. Diana Parr. I’m married now, but I was just. . . well, how are you?”
Macey swallowed. She hadn’t expected any friends from the past to be calling. “Fine.”
“Good, good. Listen, I was thinking if you were going to be in town awhile, maybe we could get together? I’d love to see you. Oh, sorry about your dad.”
Macey closed her eyes and wondered if she’d rather spend the evening lecturing her mother about telephone thieves or listening to Diana reminisce about the past. She twisted the cord several times around her left index finger and listened to her own breathing through the mouthpiece.
This was not going to be an easy choice to make.
Thirteen
There were going to be questions. A lot of questions.
The dusty wind made her eyes tear, but she kept her speed high and constant, her hands tightly gripping the handles. It had been years since she’d ridden a bike. The exercise felt good, especially since she hadn’t had a run since Friday. Her heart pumped vigorously, and her muscles throbbed with a dull ache. Even so, she kept pedaling. She’d always been able to push herself.
It took almost twenty minutes to ride into town by bike. Once she reached Main Street, she pulled the bike onto the sidewalk, steadying it around a curve. She couldn’t believe she’d found a bike in the barn. It was a little rusty, but the tires were inflated, and it pedaled nicely.
Though it was almost seven o’clock, the sun, starting to lower toward the horizon, still warmed the air enough to make her sweat. Wisps of hair clung to her temples, and her T-shirt stuck to her back. She licked her lips, wiping all the salt away, only to have it return seconds later.
Not many people were around on this Sunday evening. Most of the shops were closed, while the teenagers always escaped to Parsons to hang out. At least they did when she was their age and living here.
She hopped off her bike and strolled alongside it, window-shopping while letting her heart rate drop slowly. The shops along Main Street had changed. New clothing boutiques. A bookstore, a music store. The hardware and floral stores still remained, though.
Two blocks away was Edna’s, a greasy diner and town favorite. It was one of the few establishments that stayed open on Sundays, even though a hundred deacons had warned Edna she’d go to hell for it. Rumor had it that Edna once decked a deacon right after telling him that if flipping burgers on a Sunday would send her to hell, then it probably wouldn’t hurt her to punch out a deacon while she was at it.
Macey slowed her pace, checking her watch. 6:54. She had a few minutes yet. She stopped at a little children’s shop and peered through the glass. The store’s interior was dark except for a few racks of summer clothing that were highlighted by the evening sun. Her stomach growled and then stung in pain as she second-guessed her decision to meet with Diana.
What would she say to Diana? How would she explain? She’d spoken to her maybe twice since leaving, and even then it was pleasantries and chitchat. That was easy over the phone. But in person, things were a little harder to hide.
They’d been friends. Not good friends. Not best friends. But friends, one of only a few Macey had known in high school. When she was younger, friends seemed easy to come by. In high school, for reasons she still couldn’t figure out, her friendships became complicated. Relationships were harder to maintain. It wasn’t long before she was lonely and standoffish. She’d been burned by a few too many so-called friends, therefore she had isolated herself, retreating inward, to a place no one could understand. Not even her.
From where she stood, she could see the edge of Edna’s bright pink neon sign. The smell of diesel trucks filled the air. Being only a mile from the highway, this was a favorite of truckers, too, though they had to park six blocks away and walk. None of them seemed to mind. The booths were always filled with heavy men sporting trucker hats, eating greasy hamburgers, and drinking Cokes.
Macey crossed the street, walked another block, and leaned her bike up against the brick wall of the restaurant. The air already felt thick with grease, even outside the restaurant. Fleeting memories of the place passed through her mind.
A tall burly man opened the door for her, grunted, and waved her in. She’d thought she would just stand outside a few more minutes, but she didn’t want to be rude so she stepped in, relieved at least to be in cool air.
Scanning the room for anyone resembling a woman she hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years, she saw that all eyes were on her. She tried to look pleasant and unassuming, imagining that any new customer was probably something to gawk at. After another quick look around the restaurant, she decided Diana hadn’t arrived yet.
A thin freckle-faced blonde who couldn’t have been more than seventeen approached, her hair high in a ponytail that swung from side to side.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m waiting on someone.”
“Me too. You.” She winked and smacked her gum. “You wanna sit down?”
“Okay.”
The girl grabbed two menus and took Macey to a booth by the window. She slid the menus onto the table, and Macey sat down, brushing the crumbs off the vinyl seat first. The girl raised an eyebrow at that and then said, “Your waitress will be here in a sec.”
The stench of cigarette smoke made it hard for Macey to breathe. She knew better, though, than to ask to sit in the nonsmoking section. The sign across the room said Nonsmoking, but the lack of ventilation left a thick haze hovering in every corner. Still, she didn’t feel too put out, for the place was air-conditioned.
Macey carefully handled the menu, which was stained and sticky, and decided to get just an order of French fries and a Coke. She figured it would be enough grease to last her a few years. If they still fixed their fries the same way, they had a certain bite to them that made them particularly good. If they still fixed their hamburgers the same way, that meant the state health board hadn’t visited in a while. At Edna’s there was no such thing as well done.
Judging by the expression on the woman’s face, an old crank of a waitress approached, pulled out a pad and pencil and stared down at Macey, who realized this was her cue to order. “I’m waiting for someone. But I’ll start with a Coke.”
“Pepsi.”
It was a statement, not a question, so Macey just nodded. The woman walked off, and Macey glanced up just in time to see an extremely large, jovial-looking woman entering the diner, carrying a sizable fake-leather handbag, wearing cutoffs and a blue T-shirt that barely fit over her thighs. Macey tried not to let her jaw hang open. In high school Diana hadn’t been thin, but she wasn’t even close to obese. Could this be her?
The woman glanced around, and when her eyes met Macey’s, she smiled and, after Macey waved to her, shuffled over to where Macey sat.
“Macey Steigel?” she asked, out of breath from the walk over.
Macey stood and smiled. “Diana Parr? I mean, Wellers?”
Diana gripped Macey by the shoulders and pulled her into a bear hug, then let her go and took a moment to fit herself into the booth. She laid her purse next to her and grinned with bright eyes. She seemed as mirthful as ever, her large jowls ruddy and her smile small and sweet. “My goodness,” she exclaimed, “you look just wonderful! All sophisticated.”
Macey swallowed, trying not to glance at Diana’s kinky permed hair, pulled back in a barrette, or her overly hair-sprayed bangs. “Oh, you too.”
Diana laughed embarrassingly and shook her head, avoiding Macey’s eyes. “I’ve gained a few pounds. You probably noticed.” She glanced up. “I have five children.”
