It had not been a good night. She had fallen into bed almost as soon as she closed the door. She hadn’t paused to admire anyone’s Christmas decorations as she drove home, hadn’t even bothered to put her car in the garage. She’d staggered into the kitchen, thrown her coat over a chair, her purse on the table and gone to bed. But not to sleep. Every time she started to doze off, a dog barked. All night. As the night wore on, the dog became more frantic. She’d gotten up a couple of times, worried it might be in trouble, but she had no idea where it was. Down the block somewhere, probably. She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. Lights went on and off in several houses. On toward morning, it stopped. Either its owner had come back or it was exhausted. She hoped the owners had gotten it. She’d never heard it before and fervently hoped she wouldn’t again.
Mary watched the coffeepot drip out enough for one cup. Thanking Ellen, who had given her this pause and pour coffeemaker, she poured. The coffeemaker paused. She reached for the Tylenol and washed down two of them with a small mouthful of way-too-hot coffee.
As she sipped, she reviewed the schedule she’d mapped out during those wide-awake hours. The first meeting for the annual St Mark’s Spring Rummage sale was at nine. Evan’s shop wouldn’t be open yet. What time had he gotten home last night and had the blasted dog kept him up? She hadn’t been by the can tree in at least two days. Her committee was great, but she needed to check in. The volunteers with pickup trucks would arrive midweek, dismantle the tree and take all the food to the food bank. In the meantime, she needed to make sure the stacking volunteers arrived daily, making the tree grow. The press would return right before they started tearing it down and hopefully those people who hadn’t donated or had somehow not been aware of the food drive would come through. Then she would visit Evan. First, a little breakfast and a shower. Where had she put those folders? On the kitchen table. One folder for each committee with a to-do list and a timeline for completion. Each sub-committee head would get one. She’d keep the master list. Things should go smoothly. She drained the last of the coffee and headed for her shower.
The morning was chilly, the meeting informal. Gray sweatpants and the green sweater with Mrs Claus appliquéd on the front would do fine. The sweater had been a gift. Why, she wasn’t sure, but it seemed appropriate for today and was soft and warm.
She slowed as she passed Evan’s house. No car in the driveway. Had he already left for the shop? Probably. There were a lot of animals and she supposed cleaning before the shop opened was the best time. She noted, with satisfaction, the street in front of St Mark’s contained nothing. No trash, no animal droppings, nothing to show that hundreds of people had been tromping through the streets and on the lawn only a few days ago. She must remember to drop the city maintenance people a thank-you note.
The meeting was in the small room off the main hall called, appropriately enough, the all-purpose room. It was used for Bible study, Sunday school, the breakfast prayer group and a meeting place for a variety of committees and clubs. Today a round table took up the center, with folding chairs around it. A large coffeemaker gave off gurgling noises, along with an inviting smell; thick white mugs were stacked beside it. Mary laid her folders on the table and headed its way.
‘Guess we’re a little early.’
Mary nodded and filled her cup. ‘Good morning, Joy. Glad to see you. Which committee do you want?’
‘Same as always. I’ll take charge of the pricin’, sortin’ and settin’ out.’
Mary nodded once more. Joy had been doing that for years. She knew how much to charge for just about anything. Antique brooches, slightly used high chairs, an out-of-date suit donated by a still-grieving widow who claimed it had ‘plenty of good wear in it,’ baby clothes stained with God alone knew what, really nice lamps and not-so-nice end tables, even wedding and prom dresses. Joy put a price on them that would see them out the door and still make their cash box rattle pleasantly at the end of the day. She smiled at her over the top of her coffee mug. She didn’t get one back, but then, she hadn’t expected one. Joy didn’t live up to her name. She looked to be about Mary’s age, early seventies. That she was only fifty-seven, Mary knew for a fact. Joy seemed to take a perverse satisfaction in presenting herself as a neat, clean, plain no-nonsense homebody. Her haircut certainly looked home done, her nails were chewed off, not cut, and her hands were always a little red and chapped. Today she had on a shapeless plaid dress covered with a sweater that had been washed so many times Mary couldn’t guess its original color. Her stockings were thick, and so were her lace-up brown oxfords. She could, however, make an angel food cake from scratch that was so light it almost floated away. Her buttermilk fried chicken was second only to Mary’s and her biscuits were incredible. How such good food came out of a home so dour, made by a person who seemed to find no pleasure in its creation, Mary wasn’t sure. However, Joy was a person you could count on, and Mary did. Often.
‘Heard you were there when they found Cliff Mathews.’ Joy pushed her plastic glasses back on her nose and blew into her coffee mug. The steam immediately fogged her glasses. She set the mug down on the table and cleaned them with a paper napkin. ‘I was no fan of his, but he didn’t deserve to die that way.’
Mary felt a little start of surprise. Somehow, she hadn’t associated Joy with a pet. ‘You knew Cliff?’
Joy’s expression didn’t change. She took a sip of her coffee, set it back down and put her glasses back on. ‘You could say that. Not well, but I knew him. I got a little black cocker from Bonnie. She said she wasn’t show quality and if I wanted her for my granddaughter, who was sick a lot back then, I could but I’d have to pay to have her spayed. I agreed and took her to Cliff.’
A jolt made Mary’s hand shake. She knew about Alma’s bitch, but she hadn’t given any thought to who owned the other dog. ‘It was your dog Cliff was supposed to spay? But he did Alma’s?’
Joy’s face looked even more disapproving, if that was possible. ‘After that I took the dog to Karl Bennington. You know Karl, don’t you?’
Mary nodded.
‘Good man, Karl. He’s taken real good care of that little dog. I don’t hold with dogs in the house but have to admit, it sure helped my granddaughter. Perked her right up. Never saw much of Cliff after that, but I heard plenty.’
‘Are you talking about Cliff? That was the most horrible thing. The manger! How could anybody do such a thing? Hello, Mary, Joy.’
Annie Wilkes shed her coat and dropped it on a chair and reached out for a mug. ‘It’s getting chilly out there. Amelia couldn’t come. She’s got a cold. I’ll take her folder to her.’
It didn’t matter. Amelia had headed up the donations committee, along with Annie, for the last five years. Mary knew there’d be no lack of items donated to sell. ‘Tell her I hope she feels better. This is no time to get sick.’
‘I know. I’m so far behind. We haven’t even put up the tree yet. It’s sitting in the backyard in a tub of water. I don’t want to do it unless we can all be there, but the kids are going in different directions and we can’t seem to all get together. This teenage stuff is for the birds.’ Annie filled her mug, added a generous amount of sugar and looked around for a spoon. ‘Don’t we have any— Thanks.’
Joy produced a white plastic one and silently handed it over.
Mary watched the small interplay. She’d known both these women for years. Neither had changed much. Joy had always been dourly competent, her household run with the rigidity of Mussolini’s train schedule. Annie’s house was filled with kids, dogs, activity and laughter, but she always got the job done. People were, indeed, interesting. ‘Before I forget, we have all of Cliff’s stuff for the sale. Well, all his furniture and some of his kitchen stuff.’
Annie lowered her mug and stared. ‘How’d we get that?’
Joy said nothing but her frown deepened.
‘He was being evicted. His landlady had filed the papers and it was past time for him to be out. She was going to put all his stuff out on the street but said if we wanted it for the sale we had to come get it. Agnes, from Dan’s office, helped, so did Ellen, and we got it all packed. It’s all here, somewhere.’ Mary looked around but no boxes, TVs, toasters or really bad pictures were in evidence. ‘Maybe they’re in the storage room. It’s a start.’
‘I thought he had a daughter. Wouldn’t she want some of it?’ Disapproval deepened the wrinkles across Joy’s forehead.
‘No one knows where she is. Dan’s trying to locate her.’
‘She lives in Charlotte, NC.’
Annie and Mary stared at Joy.
‘She does?’
‘How do you know?’
‘She and my daughter were friends. They still keep in touch.’
‘Does she know about her father?’
‘Don’t know. I don’t pry into other folks’ business.’
Mary tried to bury her sigh. No, Joy wouldn’t pry, but this hardly qualified. ‘Do you know her married name or how we can contact her?’
‘No.’ That came out of pursed lips which relaxed just enough for the next sentence to arrive. ‘I guess I could ask Charity, though.’
‘Better yet, ask Charity to contact Dan.’ Mary barely remembered Joy’s daughter, although she usually remembered the children in her middle-school classes. However, if she grew up anything like her mother, Dan was better equipped to get the information than Mary was. She wondered if this let her off the hook for organizing Cliff’s memorial. She fervently hoped so. Packing up his meager possessions had been bad enough. ‘I’ll tell Les to hang on to his things. If she wants to donate any of them, fine. I’ll feel a lot better taking them from her instead of Cliff’s landlady.’
Annie glanced at her cell phone. ‘Mary, it’s almost nine thirty. Can we get started? I have to pick up my kids from band practice in an hour and I need to go to the grocery store first.’
‘Where’s Leigh Cameron? She said she’d …’
The door flew open and a rather shapeless woman with a nervous expression rushed in. Her hair was the color of goldenrod and was almost as stiff. It fell, without moving, just above her shoulders. Her pink and mauve track suit didn’t appear to have ever been near a track, or a gym. Neither did her running shoes. However, her panting sounded as if she’d just come in from a brisk run. Mary knew it was nervous energy, not exercise that caused the stitch in her side she now dramatically covered with her hand.
‘I’m sorry I’m late. I had to pack Dave’s lunch – he’s going on some kind of hike with the boy scouts and Emily has dance class this morning, so I was rushed and then the dog threw up. The kids wouldn’t clean it up so I stopped by Evan’s Furry Friends, but it’s closed. He has that special food – I was going to get some last night but that stuck-up Bill Bliss went in the store and I didn’t want to talk to him so I bought food at the grocery store. Do you think that’s why she threw up? Maybe I should take her to Karl. Are you all done already?’
Leigh had been the head of the advertisement committee last year and had done a terrible job. Press releases had never made the paper, flyers hadn’t been distributed and promised radio spots hadn’t gotten their copy; Mary had ended up doing it all. She vowed then that if Leigh volunteered again, things would be different.
‘Actually, we were just getting started. The folders are over on the table. Leigh, I have a special favor to ask. I don’t have anyone to organize the volunteers the day of the sale. Could you do that? I’ll give you a list of them, with all of their assignments. You’ll just need to make sure they know where to go.’ All of the volunteers already knew their jobs and they all knew Leigh.
‘As well as the publicity?’ Worry creased the pancake makeup on Leigh’s face.
Mary was briefly distracted. Where does she get that? I didn’t think anyone made that thick stuff anymore.
‘Oh, no. Kay Epstein, over at the newspaper, offered to do the publicity. She deals with it all the time.’ And gets the job done on time, and well. ‘You’ll be so much more valuable handling the volunteers.’ Mary held her breath. She didn’t want to insult Leigh, but she couldn’t go through another year like the last one.
Different expressions crossed Leigh’s face until finally she smiled. ‘That’s a great idea. I have so many other committees that this will fit in easily.’
Relieved, Mary headed for the table and the folders. ‘OK, let’s see where we are so we can all get out of here.’
She spread out her lists. What was Bill Bliss doing in a pet store? Naomi hadn’t said anything about another dog. She forgot about him in a blur of who was going to be in charge of what, and when.