| |
The band shell at the city park was five short blocks from the police station. The Charlottesville Jazz Band was already practicing when I dropped the boys off, preparing for the weekend fund-raiser. Various bands and choirs would be providing music throughout the day for the hundreds of expected visitors.
For the third year in a row, Hunter played the saxophone and Skylar played the trombone, but this was Travis's first year with percussion instruments. Our house band was rounded out with Audrey on flute and Emily had just started Clarinet but the girls declined to join the jazz band.
At the other end of the park was my next stop, Brummel's IGA grocery store. After dropping off the boys with their instruments, I drove the Purple People Eater into store's parking lot so I could reload the kitchen with some much-needed supplies. Audrey needed more flour if she was to bake cookies for the church meeting, and we needed six gallons of milk to last the week, plus a few odds and ends.
I decided to park in the rear of the parking lot, farthest from the store, for two reasons: The Purple People Eater required a wide turning berth and two parking spaces. Bracing for the onslaught of curious conversation, I headed into the store.
From three different aisles I heard friendly calls.
"Hello, Rainbow, I am surprised to see you out," called Nancy Parker as she checked-out.
"I would still be lying in bed if that had happened to me!" said Lesley, the checkout girl.
"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Mrs. Penant, my retired third grade teacher.
Doing my best to respond in kind to the friendly comments, I replied on the move, "No time like the present. I have a family to feed. Accept for a few bumps, I am just fine."
"I thought you liked surprises," a disembodied voice called from behind the milk cartons, making me jump once again.
"Only when they are good surprises and last night was definitely not good," I said, piling three packages of cream cheese for our breakfast into the cart.
Mr. Brummel, the store owner, came out of the cold, "Here is something that shouldn't be a surprise. You have been the talk of the town by almost everyone today."
That was definitely not a surprise. "I gather all the town cooks made an early run on casserole supplies?"
"What can I say? Gossip and tragedy are good for my business." His shrug belied the sparkle in his eyes. Mr. Brummel himself was a major hub of the well-oiled grapevine. "Well, what is the news? The real news, not stories circulating the grapevine."
While Corbin had wormed a promise to keep the full story to myself, I knew the neighbors had begun spreading the news before my head hit the pillow. Which meant, by now, the rumors must be pretty creative.
Keeping the details to myself, I presented the basic true story, if only to bring the mountainous lies back down to mole hill size. "The real story is that I am a klutz. I was cleaning out my van, but dropped the wrong handful into the dumpster. When I attempted to retrieve the good stuff, I rolled right in, landing on poor Harvey. The police took over from there. It is not a very glamorous story, I'm afraid. And, no, I am not interested in what is circulating."
"And, please," I added. "I only told you the real story to help correct the rumor."
"Who, me? You know I am as quiet as a church mouse." He winked consentingly, as he placed five gallons of milk in the cart for me. "But I think I hear Ruthann in aisle six."
"Thanks for the warning," I replied.
Mrs. Ruthann Marlin was the oldest living descendant of Charlotte Jensen, for whom our town was named. In her mind, that meant offering an opinion on everyone's business and how it reflects on the community at large. Since we didn't see eye-to-eye on those reflections, restocking my chocolate stash would have to wait.
Instead I dashed two aisles over for the baking items for Audrey. While price-checking the brown sugar special, I heard a voice I recognized float over the top of the aisle. "Of course, I would never wish anyone harm, but I, for one, am glad Harvey is gone. He was a creep, always peering over my son's bushes as he walked past. It was like he was looking for something or someone." Judy Thiessen said, evidently more than willing to contribute to Mrs. Marlin' obsession.
"I even caught him once when I was babysitting my beautiful granddaughter Carmen one afternoon. We were outside enjoying the late afternoon sun to help get rid of her cough. She had just fallen asleep on a blanket when I felt someone watching me. When I asked Harvey what he wanted, he said he was looking for my daughter in law, as if they were best friends! But I had never heard her mention his name before."
"Oh," crooned Mrs. Marlin loud enough for the whole store to hear, "That would have given me a fatal scare."
"Not me, thanks to the kick boxing class I know some moves," assured Judy. "And I had my grand-daughter to take care of. I marched over to him and told him I would call the cops if ever I saw him again near their house!"
"Oh, how brave you were," exclaimed Mrs. Marlin.
I placed the last list item into my cart and rushed to check out while they were too busy entertaining each other to notice me. I refuse to participate in that part of the grapevine.
One-sided stories like that only hurt people, especially for Harvey, who was no longer here to defend himself. Harvey was not born blessed to be a rocket scientist, but he certainly wasn't a danger to anyone. Not the Harvey I ever knew.
Their voices moved down the aisle toward the front as I reached the cash register. Time to scoot, as I had neither the time nor energy to fend them off today. Luck was with me, I paid and loaded my goodies into the van before the busybodies realized I had escaped.
Ruthann attempted to wave me down as I drove by the front door. Smiling, I politely returned the wave. Though I didn't like her style, it would do me no good for her to know that. She was a very influential person in our community. I didn't have to like her, but I respected her influence.