The Walking Bread

The hats themselves, as well as the blackbirds with which each woman had festooned her hat, I realized after I’d gotten to know them, symbolized who she was in some form or fashion. Mrs. Branford’s wide-brimmed hat was lavender, simple, and the blackbird on it was small, but sat prominently on the brim. She’d taught English for half a century, a guide in the classroom, but was prominent and impactful in her students’ lives. Her bird was symbolism at its finest.

Alice Ryder was a little uptight, in my opinion, and not overtly friendly, but she was loyal to her friends and had a caring heart. The style and design of her hat reflected that. It was cool and reserved compared to the others: white, with a band of black along the outside of the downturned brim, and black tulle forming a tasteful bundled bow off to one side. The blackbird sat, small and prim, tucked into the left side of the tulle.

And then there was Mabel Peabody. If you were to line the three women up and ask which one didn’t belong, the obvious choice would be Mabel. On a bell curve, Alice Ryder was on the far end of one side, Mrs. Branford sat squarely atop the curve, and Mabel Peabody was clear on the other side, the direct opposite of Alice. I wondered sometimes how they were even friends. After a time, I realized that although they bickered, they also had each other’s backs. They had a long history, and that was the glue in their friendship.

Mabel’s hat, like her, was bright and unique. It was a felted concoction, she’d told me, of merino wool, decorative silk fabric, and lace; it was bohemian in style, and had a floppy brim. It ran the color spectrum from chestnut-brown to rust orange, and she’d had her blackbird sitting between sprigs of peacock feathers and vintage buttons. It was truly one of a kind, just like her.

Not long ago, Mrs. Branford had dubbed both Olaya and me honorary members of their unofficial club. We’d spent an afternoon choosing our own hats and adding little blackbirds to them, symbols of intelligence and quick wit, characteristics each of the women, including Olaya and me to some degree, possessed. Olaya looked a bit like an Aztec queen. She was slightly shorter than my own five feet eight inches, but looked statuesque with the soft curls in her steel-colored hair and warm skin tone. She’d chosen a black classic men’s hat. A single feather and a blackbird sat on the left side, close to the black flat band circling the fedora. She wasn’t really a “hat” person, but this one completely suited her.

True to form, I’d found my perfect hat at the antique mini mall down the street from Yeast of Eden. I’d loved how it looked a bit like a top hat, reminiscent of the Mad Hatter’s. It was a rich maroon and was adorned with soft waves of organza ribbon and a few artfully placed feathers, both of the same color. The blackbird I’d chosen rested between the folds of organza as if it were hiding away, observing. Just like I tended to do.

1. Max was most likely killed somewhere other than the hangar that housed the art cars because he was not in it when it was delivered by Allen Trucking Company.

2. There was an unexplained broken window in the hangar.

3. Billy was there, summoned by Max, when Max’s art car was loaded up to be hauled to the hangar.

4. The truck drivers didn’t seem to know anything helpful.

5. Billy’s Through the Looking Glass book was found in Max’s car.

6. Billy had never won the Art Car contest, but Max always did, thanks to Mr. Zavila.

7. Max had committee members in his pocket, but some had recently left. Of course this was motive for Max to go after Billy, not the other way around. And Billy had no knowledge of the bribery.

8. According to Dixie, Max had lots of women. But my feeling was that Max had given up his revolving door for Vanessa Rose.

9. Vanessa, the spiritual advisor, believed Max had changed his ways and was making amends for all the wrongs he’d committed.

10. Mrs. Wellborn did not.

11. Max had swindled ten people out of one hundred twenty thousand dollars—each—in a condo deal that never happened.

12. Of those ten people, I only knew of Johnny Wellborn and Vicente Villanueva.

13. Emmaline was off the investigation because of her engagement to Billy.

14. The sheriff was convinced Billy was guilty and didn’t want to hear anything else.

We waited for her to explain what she meant, but Alice was done sharing. Instead of telling just how Max had financially screwed her, she offered another condemnation. “He may have wanted to cleanse his soul, but you can’t hide from your sins. And you can’t take back what you’ve already done.”

They all had a different reaction to that rhetorical question. While Mabel’s optimism shone brightly—and in stark contrast to Alice’s cynicism, Mrs. Branford and Olaya’s expressions mirrored each other’s. They met one another’s gazes, nodding. They knew firsthand how radically people could change. It sounded overly dramatic, but they’d gone from sworn enemies to reluctant friends. If they could change, anybody could.

The thoughts circling in my head were so polar opposite to what I’d felt not so long ago. I couldn’t know for certain if Max had truly been trying to make past wrongs right, but at this moment, I was choosing to believe that he was. “Max might not have been able to change the things he did in his past, but Vanessa was trying to help him be better. He was walking a spiritual path,” I said, repeating the words she’d used.

I laughed fondly. I adored Mabel, from the strands of her dyed red hair to the Birkenstocks on her narrow feet. Alice fluttered her hand as if Mabel were off her rocker, but I could also see the affection in her eyes. Theirs was an unlikely friendship, but it was as strong as two pieces of welded metal.

“I trust Ivy’s judgment,” Mrs. Branford said. With me, she wanted to be in the thick of every adventure. She was quick to jump into the fray, but with her friends, she was the rock. “I never was a fan of Max’s, but I’m a firm believer that everyone deserves a second chance.”

We all absorbed that simple sentiment. And we all nodded. Max Litman had been a thorn in Billy’s side for so long, but if he had recognized the error of his ways, who was I to doubt him? I chose to believe that Vanessa had been his guide on whatever spiritual path he’d been traveling. In the end, I chose to believe that he had tried to change.