morning, and them being busy…”
Eric laughed. “Sounds like them. But you might want to find out the price before you get too settled.” He held up a hand. “Not that they’ll cheat you or anything. It’s just…” He swept a hand at her.
“I know. I don’t exactly look like a high roller, do I? But their place is so nice. Clean, even.”
He grinned. “It would be.” He studied her some more. “I’m sorry. You just don’t look like a bed and breakfast kind of person.”
She winced. “You know you can’t judge a book by its—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m being incredibly nosy and rude.”
She smiled. “That’s okay. I won’t take it personally.”
“So, in the vein of nosiness…why are you here? At HomeMaker?”
“Just curious. I’ve heard so much about it since I got here yesterday. I wanted to check out the big, bad wolf.”
His face clouded. “I guess it’s hard to be in Clymer and not hear about it.”
“It’s like any big business. They sort of…take over.”
“You sound like you’ve had experience.”
“Some.”
They stood quietly, watching as mist blew across the pond from the fountain.
“I hear a happy birthday is in order,” Casey said.
He kept his eyes on the fountain. “Not sure how happy it was.”
“No. I guess not. But Loretta and Johnny felt good about getting you a cake.”
“Yeah, they would.” He turned to look at her. “I’m headed over there to get ready for dinner. You coming?”
“Is it time already?”
“Not quite, I guess. But sometimes Loretta and Johnny get there early. I want to make certain they aren’t burning the place down.”
“Sure, I’m coming.” She walked back to her bike, disengaging the kickstand.
“You want to put that in my car?” Eric said. “I’m pretty sure it would fit in the trunk.”
“No. I mean, thanks, but I’ll ride. It’s not far.”
“If you’re sure.”
She straddled the bike. “I’ll race you.”
He grinned. “You’re on.” He shot off, sprinting toward his car.
Casey took off down the parking lot, waving good-naturedly when Eric passed her in a dark green Camry. She followed him, catching up as he waited for traffic at the end of the drive, then cruising up onto the sidewalk, now devoid of people.
About a block from Main Street, trailing only by a few hundred feet, Casey ducked down an alley, which she believed would take her behind Home Sweet Home. Pausing at the cross streets to make sure she didn’t get hit, she bounced through the rutted, gravel lane, counting buildings and looking for the church steeple.
She found the church sooner than she realized, and skidded to a stop as the alley dead-ended at a cast iron fence surrounding the church’s back yard. The grassy area was barely visible through the branches of thick bushes, but Casey could make out some flowers and a pathway among trunks of larger trees.
The gravel lane angled sharply to the right, toward Main Street, and Casey turned her bike quickly in that direction, hoping she could still beat Eric to the kitchen.
“But it’s not fair!”
Casey froze at the words, the woman’s shrill voice traveling easily through the air, along with footsteps and the slap of the church’s back door. Casey leaned toward the bushes, squinting through the leaves into the church’s garden.
“I don’t like it either, Holly, but what was I supposed to do? Eric made it clear what he would do if I didn’t cast her. And we have to replace Ellen if we want to do the play.”
Thomas. The play’s director. Casey grimaced. And he was talking about her.
“What could Eric really do? Tell people about your little problem? Like they even care?” the woman, Holly, said. Casey couldn’t quite make out her face, but could easily imagine the pout that must have been on it. “You’ve got to tell her to go away.”
“I tried. You can try if you want, but you’ll get the same response. Everybody else wants to keep her.”
The two were close together, the woman’s arms crossed tightly over her chest. Thomas stood over her, his posture just as stiff.
“I don’t understand why you let Eric push you around so much, Thomas. He’s younger than you. And smaller. Why wouldn’t people believe you instead of him, no matter what he said? You should just show him who’s the boss. I mean, you are the director.”
“I know that, dammit! And he knows it, too. But I can’t change who his parents are, can I, or what he knows? Or why he’s come back to town?”
Holly snorted. “How about why you came back? Doesn’t that matter at all?”
They stood glaring at each other.
“I think,” she finally said. “That you’re just chicken. Like everyone says.”
Thomas reared back, his face a picture of shock and anger.
“Quite a pair, aren’t they?”
Casey jumped, whacking her foot against the bike’s pedal. Death stood on the back, feet on the axle and hands on Casey’s shoulders, like a ten-year-old catching a ride on a friend’s bicycle.
“Who’s there?” Thomas stalked toward the bushes, his face dark.
With a growl Casey pushed off, racing down the alley, trying to balance with Death’s weight on her back. After the short distance to Main Street she skidded around the corner and dashed the remaining half block to Home Sweet Home, hoping the church’s fence didn’t have a convenient gate for Thomas to find.
“Thanks a whole lot,” Casey said. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
Death’s eyebrows rose. “Who? Me?”
Casey shuddered. “You are so—”
“Casey?” Eric held open the front door and winked. “Glad you could join us.”
Casey stepped off of the bike and dropped it against the brick store front, hoping to squash Death against the wall. Death stood suddenly at the curb, shaking a finger at her.
“Yeah,” Casey said. “I got detoured.”
“Maybe next time. But then, I was driving a car.”
Turning her back on Death, Casey walked past Eric into the soup kitchen, taking a whiff of the same cologne Eric had worn the night before. This time it was replaced by the smell of pasta, rather than beef and vegetable soup.
“Macaroni tonight,” Eric said. “We had lots of government cheese to use up.”
Casey followed him to the kitchen.
“Thank you, Jesus! ” Loretta said. “Hallelujah! ”
“Pretty lady’s back!” Johnny skipped toward her, arms outstretched, a bundle of silverware in each hand.
Ducking to avoid losing an eye, Casey allowed Johnny to hug her, squeezing her so tightly she lost her breath, along with her sense of place.
It was at the funeral. The last time someone had hugged her like that. Not as hard, nor as joyfully. Her aching breasts had sent arcs of pain through her body. Full breasts, and tender, no longer the sustainer of life, but the reminder of life lost. Omar’s casket, so small in the receiving room next to the larger box.
Casey’s whole life, enclosed in two cases of pine.
“Let her go, Johnny.” Eric was laughing. “Ease up, my man.”
She almost fell from his arms, grabbing onto the counter for support.
Eric’s hand slid onto her back. “Casey? You okay?”
She took a deep breath, eyes focused on the bread knife lying on the counter. “I’m all right. It’s nothing.” She darted a quick look around the kitchen, expecting Death’s face. It was not there.
“Well, you look pale. Johnny, you’ve got to be more careful.”
