But my desire to deter Madge in her headlong rush to fill the Cochran house with teenage boys was not lessened. I was convinced that she needed to have pointed out to her the irony of caring for somebody else’s children while her own so desperately needed attention.
—
That conviction was reinforced when I called Mildred to tell her how much we’d enjoyed her party. And also, of course, to tell her of the unusual gift left for us while we’d been gone. It took awhile to get through because her phone was busy for a couple of hours, most likely by guests thanking her for the party.
But finally I dialed her number at a fortuitous time and was able to pour out my tale of woe.
“What kind of sick mind would do such a thing?” Mildred said, aghast at what I told her. “Oh, Julia, I’m so sorry that happened. Do they know who did it?”
“Not yet, but we have our suspicions. And with modern scientific methods, they may eventually find out for sure. But, you know, Mildred, as bad as it was, it’s even worse to think of somebody disliking me so much. It makes me want to hide in a closet or something.”
“Well, don’t do that. It would please Madge too much. She called me a little while ago, all upset about hardly anybody showing up at her tea. She just wanted to tell me that even though she’d been disappointed, she didn’t hold it against us that they’d preferred our parties to hers. Then she said, ‘People knew they wouldn’t get alcohol at a home for children,’ as if getting liquored up was the only reason they came to my house. Can you believe that?”
“That is just so typical of her. She has a way of saying the worst things in the nicest way possible. I think it’s a gift some people are born with.”
“Maybe so, but I’m glad you called, because I was going to call you. Madge told me something else that you should know. In fact, I think she intended for me to tell you.”
“Oh, my. Well, go ahead and tell me.”
“Well,” Mildred said with a large intake of air, “it seems that she attended a meeting at the Department of Social Services this past week. It was with the counselors and social workers who oversee foster parents and foster homes. Madge said it was a meeting to finalize plans for the Cochran house, and, as such, they’d invited several homeless boys to give them an idea of what was in store for them.”
I moaned. “Well, I knew it was about time they’d begin doing something. One of the commissioners told Sam at your party that the board was going to be faced with a request for a zoning variance. He said he’s not looking forward to it, which means he’s on the fence. Pete Hamrick—do you know him?”
“Yes, and I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”
“For goodness’ sake, why?”
“I don’t trust anybody who laughs as much as he does, especially when there’s nothing funny. He just acts too happy to suit me—like he knows something you don’t. Hidden agendas,” she said darkly. “As far as I’m concerned, the entire board of commissioners has to be watched like a hawk—they know what’s going on and what’s about to go on, and they’re usually in on whatever it is.”
And I thought I was cynical, but I didn’t want to go down that track, so I got us back to the subject at hand. “Mildred, Madge is simply going to bulldoze everything in her way, and I don’t know that we can stop her.”
“Well, hold on to your hat,” Mildred said, “because that wasn’t the worst thing she told me. And I’ve just now put two and two together. She told me that she’d poured out her heart at that DSS meeting, warning them all that there were some active naysayers who were fighting tooth and nail to deny those children a home. And, Julia”—Mildred stopped for another breath—“she didn’t say that she’d actually named anybody, although she did refer to ‘close neighbors and some not so close.’
“But what I’m wondering is if she in some way let your name drop, and one of those at-risk boys decided to get back at you.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, restraining myself from mentioning the boy most at risk, “and I think you may just be right. Our house was empty during the party, but the Pickens house was full, which might’ve been his preferred target. But Lloyd was there and his two sisters, and Granny Wiggins, and James, and, of course, Ronnie. But after all the crazy things Mr. Pickens has done, no one in his right mind would tackle his house, which means that mine would be the next best thing.”
“Oh, you’re right about that. But, Julia,” Mildred went on in a mock-sorrowful tone, “you should know that they’re praying for all those who’re so hard-hearted that they’d turn children out in the cold. By the time Madge finished her talk, she said that everybody, even some of the boys, were teary eyed at the spitefulness of a few selfish people. That means you and me, you know.”
“Yes, I know, and it’s driving me up a wall. It’s as if there’re no other houses in town not only suitable, but more suitable, for a group home. She makes it sound as if it’s either the Cochran house or no house at all. And they either don’t know or don’t care that we’re simply reacting to what Madge has done—and done illegally. It all started with her.”
“Well, prepare yourself, because Madge said that the boys were so moved and so hurt that they’re going to write letters to the editor. They want everybody to know how they’ve been looking forward to having
