I hadn’t packed anything appropriate for a walkathon. When I told Lizzie, she excitedly ran to get me a T-shirt listing sponsors down the back, including her office. My jeans would be fine, and I did have a pair of old sneakers I always traveled with.
I cleared away the breakfast dishes, since I was the first one dressed. Lizzie walked through the house, phone to her ear, giving her assistant Josh last minute instructions about what to bring to Westwood Park, where participants were scheduled to meet.
Chloe came up behind me. “Mom’s on her phone twenty-four-seven. She practically sleeps with it. OMG, I was never that bad.”
I turned around. “Chloe, sweetie, are you telling me that a grown-up woman, using a phone to run a business, support three people, pay bills, and arrange schedules, is the same as a teenager using her phone to ask a friend what she’s wearing?”
She scrunched up her face. “I talk to my dad, too. That’s important.”
“I know it is. But I’m sure you can see it’s not quite the same?”
Frustrated with my logic, she inhaled and blew out a long, frustrated sigh. “Guess not.”
She’d managed to tie her short hair into a ponytail that stuck out of her head all bristly. Her face was scrubbed clean except for the pink lip gloss she loved to continually apply. An oversized shirt hung loosely over her floral print leggings. Bright pink tennis shoes completed her ensemble.
I grabbed her and held on tight. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” I asked.
“A lot,” she mumbled into my chest.
When I finally released her, she burst out of my arms and ran for the door, shouting over her shoulder, “Love you, too!”
Lizzie came rushing in. “Can you help Cam get ready, Mother? I have to be there early to help set things up.”
“Sure.”
His door was open and I could see Cam sitting on the edge of the bed, dangling his bare feet.
“Put on your shoes and socks; we gotta get going.”
“I’m working on something,” he said, sketching on a large pad with a worn pencil.
“Can I see?”
“If you want. But I just started.”
I walked into his cozy little room and sat next to him.
His hand moved swiftly across the rough paper without a second of hesitation. What a contrast to the stiff, unsure way he carried himself. Watching him draw like that, it almost seemed as if he was taking directions from an inner voice.
The abstract shapes interconnected in a free-flowing, harmonious design. I felt a little envious of his innate talent. Nothing had ever come that easily to me. I’d always had to study and work so hard.
“I like it,” I told him. “It makes me feel . . . peaceful.”
“Me too.”
“So what happened with your art project? Did the teacher like it?”
“I got a B plus. I would have gotten an A, but some glue from the frame leaked on a couple blocks.” He pointed to the piece propped up on his desk.
He didn’t seem to particularly care what his grade had been. But I still felt the need to cheer him on. It’s what grandmothers do, I guess. “B plus is great. You should be proud.”
Focused on his drawing, he didn’t respond.
As I glanced over at the framed blocks, which had initially reminded me of Jackie’s bracelet, I remembered Stacey had been wearing a similarly colorful one the day I met her at the gallery. Strange . . .
Lizzie suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Come on, you two. We have to be there in twenty minutes.”
Cameron got up off the bed carrying his pad and pencil to the computer desk in the corner.
With his back to us, he asked, “Do I have to walk at this thing . . . with all the other people? I don’t know any of them.”
Lizzie looked to me for some help.
“I’m not going to walk. You can sit with your old Grammy and watch. There’ll be chairs or something, right?” I asked Lizzie.
“Bleachers are set up all along the course. And there should be refreshment stands so you can have a snack. Does that sound good, Cam?”
He turned around. “Will they have hot dogs?”
“Yep,” his mother told him.
“Okay.” He went to his dresser to find a pair of socks.
“I’ll go get my jacket,” I said as I started to leave the room.
“Grammy?”
“What, Cam?”
“You shouldn’t call yourself old. ’Cause you’re not.”
“Thank you, Cam. I’ll have to stop doing that.”
***
The shirt Lizzie had given me was white with several puzzle pieces—the symbol for Autism Awareness—in the center. Each piece was a different color—red, yellow, and blue—and attendees’ shirts, hats, visors, and jackets all featured at least one of these primary colors, making the park look like a gigantic field of tulips. The temperature had risen to seventy-five, adding to the crowd’s enthusiasm.
Chloe perked up when she saw a few of her girlfriends and raced over to talk to them. Lizzie was immediately surrounded by volunteers needing direction. After assuring her I’d keep Cam close and Chloe well within sight, she hurried off, shouting her thanks as she went.
I scanned the crowd.
Margaret Ann stood with a few of her girls from the beauty shop. She waved, mouthing a hello. A young cop I’d worked with for a few months before I retired was with his family. I couldn’t remember his name. He was holding a cooler while a woman I guessed to be his wife spread out a blanket on the lawn. It always threw me off seeing one of my men out of uniform in an unfamiliar setting. I knew them so well—and yet didn’t.
Cam was quiet, as usual, and focused on the handheld game he’d brought from home. I led him through the crowd, looking for a space on the bleachers near the starting line.
“Katherine! Hey, Sullivan!”
I looked out over the crowd but couldn’t see who had called me, so I sat. Cam plopped down next to me.
“Think you’re too good to say hi to an old friend?”
I still couldn’t figure out where the voice was coming from.
“Up here!”
Turning around, I saw Barbara Nylander sitting at the top of the bleachers.
“How long you been in town?” she asked, stepping down to sit beside me. “And why do I have to come all the way out here to see you?”
“I was planning to call you—swear—but I got involved in—”
“—the Jordan murder,” she said, making sure Cam couldn’t hear. “There are no secrets in this town, you know.”
“It isn’t a big secret. I’m just doing some investigating for Randolph Pierce’s lawyer.”
“Yeah, I heard your daughter hired you.”
I had to laugh. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”
“Being the county coroner sort of puts me out there on the front line.”
I wanted to ask a hundred questions and get her spin on the murder, but this wasn’t the place. Cam had fooled me before into thinking he hadn’t heard parts of a conversation, only to repeat every word that had been said later. Barbara was quick and caught on when I nodded toward him.
“We can talk business anytime,” I said. “So how’re you doing?”
“Better than the folks who end up on my table, that’s for sure.” She laughed at her own joke. She always did. Maybe it was her macabre sense of humor that helped her cope with what she had to do and see every day.
“How come you’re not out there walking?” she asked. “You’re in good shape.”
“Oh, my grandson and I are spectators today. Right, Cam?” I turned to look at him but he never took his eyes off the game he held tightly.
“What about Elizabeth? Is she here?”
“Somewhere. She’s one of the sponsors, which means she has to be everywhere at once. That’s my granddaughter Chloe over there.” I pointed.
“The one with the ponytail?”
“Cute.”
“So are you going to walk today?” I asked.
“Bum knees, bad back. You know how it is. Once you hit fifty, everything starts to go.”
“Must be hard with all the bending and standing you have to do on the job.”
“Yeah it is, but I’ve only got a year and a half till retirement. Then John and I are heading south.”
“Florida?”
“Hell’s waiting room? God, no. I’ve seen enough old stiffs to last a lifetime. No, I’ve got a sister who lives in Rio; she runs a hotel down there. What a place. Gorgeous beaches, beautiful, healthy people. Emphasis on healthy.” She laughed.
That time I did, too.
We tried to talk above the commotion around us, but it was getting frustrating.
Things were gearing up to start. I couldn’t let Barbara get away. “You know, I’d like to stop by your office sometime.”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Won’t it be closed up?”
She winked. “I got the key. How’s two o’clock? Gives me time to feed the old man and get him settled in front of the TV for his sport shows. He’ll never miss me.”
“I’ll be there.” I turned toward her, getting close to her ear. “This means a lot, thanks.”
A voice came over the very loud speaker, first welcoming everyone, then thanking the crowd for their support. When a national representative started talking about what percentage of donations were going where, Cam reached over and shook my leg.
“Can we get hot dogs now?”
“Let’s go.”