“You. Eric. Leila. You leave your car keys on the driver’s seat.”
“And?”
“Well, anybody could take them.”
“And do what? Drive the car to the other side of town, where everyone and his mother would know whose car it was?”
She had a point.
They drove through Clymer, Casey keeping a lookout for Thomas and the two men. There was no sign of them. Rosemary, oblivious to Casey’s interest in passing cars, drove several miles over the speed limit toward the interchange at the highway. When they got parallel to HomeMaker, Rosemary made a show of pulling her visor to the side window, blocking her view.
“It’s not the people, of course,” she said, “that I’m trying to avoid. Other than the one. But just seeing that place makes me want to throw things.”
Casey held her hands in her lap and said nothing, trying not to think about the fact that she was heading onto a highway in a car. Especially a car that was careening along with no respect for traffic or speed.
“Ellen was such a sweetheart,” Rosemary said, sighing. “We really thought she and Eric… But of course it’s not to be. He’ll have to find someone else.” Her eyes flicked toward Casey, who leaned back in surprise.
“Oh. Well. He’s pretty young, isn’t he? He has lots of time.”
“Um-hmmm.” Rosemary looked back at the road. “And I think it will take him a while to get over Ellen. This past week he’s had a hard time of it, and I don’t see it getting easier any time soon.”
“Yes,” Casey said. “It takes a while.”
Rosemary gave Casey another speculative look, but Casey turned to gaze out of the window. The Ohio soybean and corn crops were just about ready for harvesting now, golden in the fields. Tomatoes, red and ripening, dotted the lush green rows. Thousands upon thousands of plants, waiting for harvest.
“If Ellen didn’t…take her own life,” Casey said, glancing into the backseat, at Death, who was actually paying attention. “Who would’ve? It sounds like everyone liked her.”
Rosemary blinked quickly, and raised a finger to her eye. “There was no reason not to like her. She was kind, honest, a good worker… Not that most people weren’t who got laid off, but someone in her position…”
“Which was what?”
“Administrative staff. They let about half of them go at the same time as the assembly line got cut.”
“So she worked in the front office?”
Rosemary’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Right outside the door of the man we don’t like to talk about.”
“She was Karl Willems’ secretary? And he fired her?”
“No. No, she wasn’t his secretary. She was just one of his ‘office girls,’ as he called them.” Rosemary frowned. “I’m pretty sure he knew her name. At least she said he called her ‘Ellen’ once.”
Casey gripped her thighs, trying to come to terms with this man who had no clue. She shook her head, looking straight ahead, and then stopped. “But why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would Lillian marry someone like him?”
Rosemary smiled sadly. “She’s not so young anymore, you know.”
“She was when she married him.”
“Right. And he was, too. Young and funny and smart…”
“You knew him then?”
Rosemary gave a chuckle. “Oh, I sure did. Knew him very well.”
“Don’t tell me you’re Thomas’ mother?” She looked back at Death, who grinned impishly.
“Thomas?” Rosemary said. “Thomas Black, the play director?”
“Yes. Eric said his parents and Thomas’ were good friends.”
Rosemary let out a whoop of laughter and slapped her hand on the steering wheel. “Oh, goodness, no. If I’d been Thomas’ mother perhaps he wouldn’t be the man he is today.”
“You mean he’d be nice?” And not connected with nasty members of society?
Rosemary hooted again. “Oh, Casey, darling, you’re killing me.” As soon as the words left her mouth she sobered, sighing and brushing a hand across her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The things I say…”
“It’s just an expression. You didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Hmphf.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes.
“So how did you know Karl Willems when he was young?” Casey finally asked.
“Oh,” Rosemary said. “You know. He’s my brother.”
Casey’s shocked reply was cut short as Rosemary swung off an exit, spinning around the ramp with dizzying speed. Casey couldn’t speak, as she was concentrating on hanging on and not throwing up.
They drove through quiet smalltown streets until Rosemary pointed a scarlet fingernail at an old brick building. “There it is. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s cheap rent, from what Mr. Damon tells me.” She grinned, and rocketed into a parking space in front of a dusty window with an understated sign proclaiming, “Cole Damon Hapkido.” Casey unlatched her fingers from the dashboard, gathered her things together, and got out of the car. Death remained seated, as did Rosemary.
“You coming in?” Casey asked Death.
Rosemary let out a whoosh of air. “I need a minute to catch my breath.”
Death just smiled.
Casey shut her door and waited by the front of the car until Rosemary joined her, leading her to the door of the building. “C’mon. I’m dying to introduce you to my teacher.”
Looking back, Casey could see Death, now in the driver’s seat, giving her a double thumbs-up.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Casey and Rosemary climbed the creaky wooden steps to the third floor, passing an old-fashioned weight room and a dance academy full of trophies, dance clothes, and waiting mothers.
Finally, on the third floor, Rosemary entered a large square room. The wooden floor was covered with a mat, along with a cluster of children in Dobaks and protective head gear. A man stood over them as they sparred in pairs.
“Our teacher,” Rosemary sighed.
The man, tall and thick, wore all black, including his thick black belt, and his feet were bare. His long black hair lay against his back in a ponytail, pulled away from his broad face. Curly hair sprouted from the V of his jacket, and Casey could feel his confidence from across the room.
Casey smiled to herself. So that’s why Rosemary comes here.
“The changing room is over here.” Rosemary skirted the mat, showing Casey to a wooden door. “Anybody in there?” Without waiting for an answer, she flung it open, revealing a teenaged boy, complete in a Dobak, a red belt wrapped around his waist.
“Sorry!” Rosemary said. “You’re done, right?”
He scuttled out.
Rosemary waved Casey in. “All yours.”
Casey shut the door behind her and locked it, breathing in the smell of the dojang. Sweat. Effort. Composure. She changed, hanging her clothes on a hook on the wall.
Walking barefoot back into the classroom, she eyed the other students who would be participating in the class. The children were done now, one black belt student helping to remove their helmets and foot protection. On the outside of the mat stood several adults in hapkido uniforms—two more men with black belts, a few teenage boys with various colored belts, and Rosemary, resplendent in her yellow belt, one level up from the white Casey was wearing.
“If you’re not experienced at this you can just watch,“ Rosemary said.
