Broke: (14 page)

***

The
morning
of the Pot Belly Association Pig Show dawned clear and crisp
,
promising to be
a gorgeous October
Saturday
. The weather had taken a turn for the cold during the night. Immy had gotten up around
2:00 in the morning
to hunt for a thermostat, but couldn't locate it. She'd have to ask Jersey or Vance where it was.

Immy and Drew had
hosed the
finger paint
off Marshmallow last night, since it wouldn't last
very
long
and rubbed right off
. They would have to apply it right
before he appeared for his category, so Drew
had
practiced until it was too dark outside to see.

Ralph came over early to help lift the pig into his truck.
Ralph had to push to get Marshmallow into his crate.
Immy
made sure he wasn't squished too horribly. She
would have to get a bigger
crate
soon. Immy put Drew into her car seat and carefully stowed the horned helmet on the floor with Hortense's
cloth cow
tail.

The Pig Show
was to take
place
at 2:00
on the fairgrounds. Probably because th
e
ground
there
was used to having manure on it
.
S
ome pigs
, Immy was sure,
couldn't be trusted.
But when they drove to the shed where the pigs were gathering, she was pleased to see a litter box in each stall. Marshmallow
trotted behind
them like a puppy dog to the
pen
with his name taped on the gate and the three of them sat
inside,
on the ground next to the pig
,
to await their judging.

Cutest was the last category, after Fattest, so when the fat pigs began to waddle out in response to the loudspeaker announcement, Ralph fastened the
horned
helmet onto Marshmallow's head, Immy tied on his tail, and Drew went to work with the
finger paints
. Ralph and Immy helped her finish up just as the clapping for Fattest died down and the
echoing
voice of the
announcer said, "All potbellies competing for Cutest Pig to the arena, please."

They wiped the paint off their hands and, a
mid grunting and oinking
porkers
, they
joined a
proce
ssion
to the brightly lit central space. Ralph stayed on the sidelines while Immy and Drew led their pet to his
judgment and possible glory
.
Immy saw Mother standing beside Ralph
at the railing
. Those two were their cheerleaders.

Immy, Drew, and Marshmallow
were shepherded to stand between a ballerina pig and an astronaut. Immy thought the
tacky
tutu was store
-
bought and the astronaut pig was nothing more than cardboard and aluminum foil. She
peered
down the line at the ten or so other pigs. None were as cute as hers.

One by one, each pig's name was called and the pig and owner stepped forward. Three judges, two portly men and an emaciated woman, cocked their heads and rubbed their chins at each pig. But when they inspected Marshmallow, Immy thought she saw the woman's eyes brighten. The men
kept
look
ing
stern and she couldn't tell what they thought.

It took forever for th
e trio of judges
to
go down the line
. At one point Drew started to pet Marshmallow and Immy caught her hand.

"You'll mess up his cowhide," she whispered.

"Is Marshmallow gonna win?" asked Drew.

"We have to wait and see what the judges say. Pretty soon.
Can you stand still a little bit
longer
?
"

Drew stood still, but Immy could feel vibrations of
impatient energy coming off her in waves.

At last the judges finished
with all the pigs
and stood to the side
of the lineup
to confer. One of the men had made notes and he referred to them, frowning the whole time.

Then the woman stepped to the microphone stand facing the pig line.

"Third place for Cutest Pig goes to
...
Porky!" she said, and the astronaut pig's owner stepped over to accept a small trophy.

"Second place for Cutest Pig goes to
...
Angel!" That pig, at the far end of the line, was dressed as a princess, all in pink, with a conical hat trailing a scarf.
She was marginally cute.

"And now, our final category of the Pig Show. The winner of Cutest Pig is...Marshmallow!"

Drew screamed and Immy rushed up to shake the woman's hand. The trophy was about a foot tall and featured a potbelly pig atop a pinnacle. She heard Ralph and Hortense cheering amid the
applause
from the stands.

After a celebration at the ice cream stand next to the arena, they piled into their vehicles and drove out, triumphant.
The caravan of Immy's Sonata, Ralph's truck, and Hortense's van wended their way to
Immy's
house.
They were all
happy
winners. After all, t
hey had all had a hand in Marshmallow's glor
ious
triumph
.

Even the colorful falling leaves seemed to be celebrating with
a confetti shower
. Frequent bursts of chilly wind swept the
leaves
across the streets. It was probably going to be a cold night. Immy would have to get jackets for Drew and herself out of the box they were still in.

Ralph lifted Marshmallow out of his crate and down from the truck. Unfortunately, some of the black and brown
finger paint
smeared the front of his light blue shirt.
Ralph ignored it.

"Success," said Ralph, high-fiving Drew while he lifted her from her carseat.

"The Cutest Pig, the Cutest Pig," Drew chanted. She
hugged Marshmallow and got paint on her pink dress.

"Let's bring Marshmallow around to the back so
we can hose him off
," said Immy.

Hortense
bent into the back of her van,
unloading a pot of beef stew
they would have later,
for dinner
.

"Here, let me help you,"
Immy said
. "I'll get the rolls."

She straightened when a
black sedan pulled up behind the van. Immy stood
holding
the b
ag of rolls while two men in pressed jeans
and dress shirts got out and approached the women. Drew had
taken Marshmallow to the back, but Ralph
was still in front and
came up behind Immy.

"Ms. Duckworthy?" asked the one on the left. "Is Mr. Valentin here yet?"

"Vance?" Immy said. "No, he's not here. Why would he be? Unless he broke in while we were gone."

"He's to accompany us on our inspection."

"Huh?"

"What are you inspecting?" Ralph asked.

"We've been told to make a house inspection. To make sure it's up to code," the one on the right said. Immy couldn't tell them apart. Maybe they were twins.

"On a Saturday?" Ralph asked.

"We've tried during the week. No one was home."

Hortense had gotten halfway to the house, but had stopped to listen and now approached the group.
"What are your nomenclatures and whence come you?"

They gave her identical blank looks.

"Allow us to introduce ourselves, as civil people
are wont to do
. I am Hortense Duckworthy, retired librarian."

Immy took a step forward, following her mother's lead. "I'm Imogene Duckworthy. I work in a PI's office and I'm renting this house."

The two men looked at Ralph for his introduction.

"Ralph Sandoval. Police officer."

The one on the left gave a start of alarm. "There's not going to be any trouble, is there, officer?"

"I hope not," said Ralph, his voice grave and official sounding. "Let's see some documentation
and ID
."

Ralph held out his hand and Right Hand Man handed him a paper.

Vance chose that moment to arrive. He jumped out of his car and hurried over to the knot of people on the front sidewalk. "Am I late?"

"Late for what?" Immy said. "What's going on?"

"Jersey couldn't make it," Vance said. "She told me to come for the inspection."

"What inspection?" Immy was getting exasperated.

"
Someone
called the city council and said the
building here
wasn't fit for habitation."

That Sadie sicced the city council on her!
"But you told her it was, right?"

Vance raised his eyes
. They lit
straight
on
the broken porch railing.

"We're fixing that railing," said Immy. "It was broken when I moved in."

"Not like that," Vance said.

"There's also been a report of damage to the grounds," said one of the men.

Immy had a sinking feeling. "What's this inspection for?
I'm renting here.
Are you
setting
us a time limit to get the repairs done?"

"If the property fails the inspection," said Left Hand Man, "we'll recommend to condemn
it
.
"

"Wait a minute," said Vance,
finally
stepping forward. One of the men
retreated a step
. "This house is habitable. There are some cosmetic issues
, I'll admit
. I'm sure you'll find the structure sound."

"May we do our inspection?" Right Hand Man said.

Vance followed them closely as the
y
roamed
from room to room, upstairs and down
,
rapping
on the walls and trying the faucets.
Immy was sure glad she'd gotten rid of the remains of the ruined carpet. Vance didn't say anything about that. But he had as much at stake as Immy
did
in keeping the house from being condemned. It was income for him.

Before the men left, Immy got Vance to show her where the thermostat was. The weather was only going to get colder from now until winter.
He told her the city council meeting
would discuss the matter at their next meeting
in
two weeks.

As Vance went out the front door, he gave the chandelier a glance that Immy could only call
loving.

Chapter Fifteen

"How rude," Hortense said. "Th
ose persons
never even introduced themselves. I can only imagine their upbringing."

They were in the kitchen eating
supper,
her delicious stew, studded with carrots and potatoes and thick with sauce.

"Do you think we failed
the house inspection
?" Immy asked.

"Hard to tell," said Ralph. "They didn't give much away.
But I don't think the
old place
is in that bad a shape. It doesn't look good, but
that
Vance
guy
is right. It's solid."

"I suppose Sadie McMudgeon turned us in," Immy said.

Ralph reached for a third roll.
"Who's that?"

"The old biddy who lives next door."

Drew perked up. "What's a biddy?"

Hortense threw Immy a stern look. "It is a term variously used for a female fowl or as a
pejorative
."

Drew, unenlightened, resumed slurping her stew.

"There's a house next door?"
Ralph
slathered butter on
his bread
and popped a bit into his mouth.

"Yeah, it's hidden and not very close, but it's there. Hm
m
, I wonder what shape her
own
house is in."

"No," Hortense said
, studying her daughter
. "You will not inform the municipal governing body of the condition of her abode, no matter if it's substandard or not. That
would be
asking for trouble. Things will escalate and you'll rue the day."

"I suppose you're right," Immy said.
Would she ever be old enough that her mother couldn't read her mind?

"Besides," said Ralph, "it might not have been her. Anyone could have driven past and seen the porch falling apart."

"How was I supposed to know that railing would fall down like that?"

"Well," said Ralph, "when you removed all the support, how could it not fall down?"

"I'm not
going to
talk about the porch any more." Immy went to the stove to ladle just a bit more stew into her bowl, making sure to get a couple
of
big
pieces of potato.

***

All week, Immy and Drew, and sometimes Ralph, had Spaghettios, Dinty Moore beef stew, and frozen fish sticks for their dinners. And all week, Immy remembered the taste of her mother's stew. By Wednesday, she'd found a recipe for lasagna on the internet and printed it out while Mike was at lunch. On Thursday, she decided she could do it.

She invited Mother, Ralph,
her new
Uncle Dewey, and her new cousin Theo Nichols, to dinner at her house
for
Friday. She and Drew spent Thursday night polishing the kitchen and the gloomy dining room
,
Immy running to the kitchen to keep track of
the
bubbling
meat sauce in between dusting
and vacuuming
forays
. Her mother was going to bring a white tablecloth to counteract the dark wood paneling
. That stuff
sucked the light out of th
e
room.

Tuesday night,
Ralph had
installed
a narrowish ramp
he had designed
for the
curving
inside stairway
that led upstairs from the Great Hall.
Drew, Marshmallow, and Immy had all been sleeping upstairs since
then
. No men had intruded, other than Ralph, and
he
was no intrusion.

Immy was having a very good week.

She was able to duck out of the office a little early Friday since Mike was on another surveillance. After she rushed home and let Marshmallow out
into the
back
yard
, she started putting her meal together. It wasn't a complicated dish, but it sure took a lot of pans.
She'd cooked the meat and onions and garlic in tomato sauce
, using her biggest pot,
the day before
.
It
had been
well after midnight
when she'd finished. Now she b
oi
led
the noodles in
another
one, mix
ed
the cheese
s
in a big bowl,
then
assembled the whole thing
in
a baking pan.

The guests were invited for seven and she popped the
lasagna
pan into the oven at a quarter till. Two minutes later, as she started washing pans, Ralph knocked at the front door. She dried her hands
and
ran to let him in.

"I hope you noticed that I locked
up
," Immy said.

"
And
I hope you're locking
up
every time
you go out
."
He put his arms around her.
"You should keep it locked when you're inside, too. I want you to be…safe."

His
voice slowed. He pulled her closer. His
ey
es were
dark and deep in the soft light of the Great Hall. Immy had turned the chandelier low with the dimmer switch.
Since Drew wasn't around, they enjoyed an intimate moment
or two
.
For a brief while, Immy regretted inviting all those other people.

The timer rang in the kitchen, reminding her to put the rolls into the oven.
"I'm glad you're a little early. Can you help set the table?"

"Drew
's
at your mother's?"

"Yeah, they should be here soon. Oh rats, you can't set the table because she's bringing the tablecloth."

"Where are the dishes? Hey, you're organized," Ralph said, peeking into the dining room.

Immy had set the
plates, glasses, and flatware
on the hulking sideboard beside the long dining table.
She returned to the kitchen
and put the rolls into the oven. She looked at the
sudsy sink
ful
. "I just have to finish washing these."

"I'll do it." Ralph bumped her out of the way and took over.

It was that kind of thing that made Ralph dearer and dearer to Immy.
She ran upstairs to change into a long skirt. Magazines always showed hostesses in long skirts. As she descended her grand staircase
, she felt like Scarlett O'Hara at Tara, although
the pig ramp marr
ed the scene
slightly
. She reached the bottom
as
Drew burst through the front door, followed by Hortense.

Oops. Immy hadn't locked the door after she let Ralph in. Oh well, he was here
now
to protect her.

***

Dinner was finished and the sink was, once more, full of suds and dirty dishes.
Everyone had eaten their fill and had complimented Immy on her cooking. They sipped
the rest of a bottle of chianti
in the Great Hall, Hortense and Drew sitting on the stiff couch, the rest on chairs pulled in
from the dining
room. Drew was having sparkling white grape juice and staying up past her bedtime.

"Looks like you take after your dad and your other uncle," Dewey said
to Immy
.

"How so?" Louis and Huey hadn't had much in common.
They didn't look alike.
Uncle
Huey had been a restaurant owner/manager and Louis, after a brief stint in the family diner, became a cop.

"They could both cook circles around me. I never took to the kitchen."

"What did you take to?" Drew asked.

Immy choked on her wine. Theo was eyeing his father, waiting for his answer. Immy wondered if he would mention abandoning his family.
Or prison.

"Rodeo," said Dewey. "I rode bulls for awhile."

Drew's eyes grew wide. "Those mean bulls? I hate
those
bulls." She had had an incident with a
rodeo
bull during the summer and was still terrified at the
mere mention
of them.
(
see
Smoke
, chapter 20, by Kaye George)

"They are mean sons of--son of a guns. I made a good living on them for a stretch
, though
."

Drew seemed
doubtful, but continued her interrogation.
"Then what did you do after the stretch
?
"

"Broke a few ribs, my collarbone, and my leg. Had to hang up my hat."

"Where did you hang it?"

"Drew, that's enough," said Immy. "You should go get your jammies on. It's getting late."

"I
only wanted to know wh
ere his hat is." She pouted, but handed her glass to her grandma and stomped upstairs. Marshmallow
clip-clopped
up the ramp after her.

"You do that ramp, Ralph?" Theo
asked
, gesturing toward it
.

Ralph nodded. Theo strolled over to take a closer look.

"Oh,"
said
Immy
with a flip of her hand
, "he just threw that together. You should go out back and
see
the fence he built."

Theo's cell phone
played a rock song
. "Maybe I will. I'll take this call out
side
." He went out
through
the kitchen door
,
talking quietly as he went.
When he returned, Dewey was
still
pouring down the wine and
regaling Hortense with bull stories, which Immy didn't think she appreciated all that much
.
Theo seemed subdued
as he
shoved his phone into his pocket and
took a seat on the dining room chair
.

"Everything okay?" asked Immy. Sometimes phone calls were bad news.

"Dad," Theo said, not looking at Dewey. "That was
Nelda.
"

"And?" Dewey said
, a grim look on his face
.

"And she's in Wymee Falls."

"Well, shit. I don't
wanna
see her." Dewey took an extra large gulp of wine.

"I know, but she said she has to see me."

"And?"

"And I gave her this address."

"I'm outta here." Dewey got up and headed for the door. He'd had more wine than the rest of them and h
e stumbled after two steps, grabbing the back of the chair he'd been
sitting
on
.

"You can't drive like that," Theo said.

"Your filial relation is correct," put in Hortense
, with a glance at Ralph
. "You are inebriated."

"Oh, I am, am I? I am not inebb, ineedree, in--"

"You're drunk," Immy said
, putting herself between him and the door
. "You're welcome to our couch."

"No, I can drive
myself
to the motel. I only had a couple glas
h
es."

Theo caught Dewey's elbow and steered him to a chair without much trouble.

"I don't wanna see the bitch."

"Who's Nelda?" Immy was having a hard time following the conversation. She'd had more than two glasses of wine herself.

Dewey had rested his head on his chest, but he raised it to answer. "My ex-wife's sssister."

"My aunt," added Theo.

The doorbell rang.