Monkey Wrench (10 page)

Perhaps, Rose thought, they'd had words.

“Did Joe give you an estimate on the repair work?”

She heard Susannah sigh. Then the younger woman said, “No, he had to go home and write up a few things. I believe he said he'd drop off some paperwork later today.”

Rose nodded. “He's very efficient, don't you think?”

“Oh, I have no doubts about his efficiency.”

“Then what's bothering you, Suzie? Don't you like Joe?”

Susannah put down her mug and thought the question over. The noise of Marge's Diner swirled around them. The small restaurant was tucked on a side street just off the main square of Tyler, and for many years it had been one of the town's busiest spots. A hotbed of gossip and local news, the diner was packed with patrons on that bright winter morning. Christmas carols were playing on the radio, the smell of hot coffee filled the air, and Marge and the waitress both sported little sprigs of holly on their blouses.

Most of Marge's customers seemed very happy to be in the warm restaurant on such a cold morning. Hopping back and forth between tables or waving across the crowded room, everyone seemed to be spending as much attention on their neighbors as on breakfast. There was a lot of laughter and loud talk.

And a great many Tyler citizens came over to the table by the window to greet Susannah.

“It's wonderful to have someone famous in Tyler,” Marge said, once everyone was finally allowing the Atkins ladies to enjoy their coffee in peace. Marge poured more coffee into their mugs and added, “Will you be filming your program from Tyler now and then, Susannah?”

“No,” Susannah replied. “I doubt it. It's much more convenient to work in the city.”

“But you're missing life in Tyler, you know. We may not have the same amusements you find in Milwaukee,” Marge said with a grin, “but there's a lot of wonderful stuff here, right under your nose.”

“But my work is in Milwaukee.”

“Oh, work!” Marge scoffed. “There're more important things in life than work!”

Susannah smiled and said nothing, but afterward she looked squarely at Rose and said, “I had the same conversation with Joe a few minutes ago.”

“Oh?” Rose asked.

“He intimated that I wasn't living a very full life, either.” Susannah leaned forward. “How about you, Granny Rose? Do you think I'm wasting my life?” At her grandmother's searching look, she went on, “I just don't know sometimes. I love my work, I really do, but...well, you've been very happy here in Tyler, haven't you?”

“Yes, but I raised a family—two, in fact, if you consider I raised your father first, then you after your parents died. And I kept myself busy, but I certainly never had what you'd call a big career. It's a question of choices, I suppose. And my choices were different than yours.”

“Better?”

“No, just different.”

But Rose's words, spoken to ease whatever turmoil was in Susannah's mind, didn't smooth the expression of anxiety from her granddaughter's face. Instead, Susannah seemed to withdraw even further.

Rose leaned across the table and touched Susannah's hand. “Suzie, what's wrong? Did Joe say something to hurt your feelings?”

“No, he just...well, he's made me question the way I do things, I guess. He was pretty pushy about it, in fact.”

“You mustn't hold his pushiness against him,” Rose said with a laugh. “Remember, he
is
from the city—Chicago, to be exact.”

“And he was married? He chased his wife away, I suppose.”

“No, not at all. Joe's a widower,” Rose explained, watching Susannah's expression change from frustration to interest. “His wife died of cancer, I believe, after a long, hard struggle. He doesn't seem to be bitter about it, but I'm sure his wife's death was very difficult.”

Susannah swallowed hard. “I see. I think I'm starting to understand why he said some of the things he did to me.”

“Suzie, are you all right? Did he really upset you? Is there something I can do?”

Susannah smiled uncertainly. “Of course not, Granny Rose. I'm just... Oh, maybe I've been working too hard lately. I'm a little touchy and burned-out. Maybe I was too sensitive.”

“And now I'm causing you to miss your vacation.”

“Don't say that!” Susannah squeezed Rose's hand back. “I'm not going to miss it. I'm just postponing it for a while. I want to hear what Dr. Phelps has to say about you.”

“Oh, don't worry about me! I'm a tough old bird!”

“I have a right to be concerned, though. I love you, Granny Rose. I don't want to see you get run down—especially not before Christmas. I know how much you enjoy the holidays.”

“I'm fine!”

“But you work so hard at this time of year. It worries me to think you'll soon be slaving to get ready for your annual party.”

The week before Christmas, Rose always baked cookies, decorated her house for the holidays and opened her doors for an evening of singing and socializing. At one time, she used to bring out a birthday cake at eight o'clock—since the party was always held on Susannah's birthday. But as a teenager Susannah had refused to celebrate her birthday that way, so the party became a Christmas affair.

“I won't knock myself out,” Rose promised.

“Will you let me help? I can do a lot before I leave for my trip.”

“Why, that would be very nice, dear. We could decorate and do some baking.”

“My favorite things.” Susannah smiled. “So that's settled. Now, have you phoned Dr. Phelps yet?”

“Yes,” said Rose, surprising her granddaughter with the truth. “I called just before you got here. I have an appointment at ten.” Rose checked her watch. “In fifteen minutes.”

“Wonderful! I'm glad he's going to see you so promptly. I'll take you.”

“Don't be silly, dear. His office is a few blocks away. I can walk.”

“Well, then, I'll come along.”

Rose took a deep breath and said, “I'd rather see my doctor in private, Susannah. Do you mind?”

By the expression of surprise on Susannah's face, Rose could see that her granddaughter did mind. Obviously, she wanted to hear a prognosis from the horse's mouth. But she covered her dismay and said, “No, I don't mind. I understand completely. But surely there's something I can do. I'd like to be useful.”

“Well,” Rose said firmly, “there is one errand you could run for me.”

Susannah smiled. “Name it.”

“Go over to Joe Santori's house and tell him I'd like the other repairs on my house to begin immediately.”

Susannah's blue eyes popped wide. But...but shouldn't you wait for an estimate from another contractor?“

“No need for that! I know Joe and his work, and he's the man for the job. My mind is made up.”

Susannah was definitely flustered as she said, “But what if he can't squeeze you into his schedule? Maybe he's too busy for—”

“Oh, he'll find the time for me, I'm sure. He said so last night. Will you go see him?”

“Well...”

“Ask him if he could start on the kitchen first and save the boring things for later—the roof or whatever. I wonder if it's possible to have some of the kitchen work finished before my party? I'd really like to have a new counter and sink before then.”

“It's starting to sound expensive.”

“What's money for? That sink should have been replaced years ago. And wouldn't you like to see the kitchen looking new for my party?”

“Yes, of course,” Susannah said faintly.

“And you can help, Suzie. I might as well choose some new wallpaper and such. You're such a whiz at that! Between you and Joe, I'm sure my kitchen will look wonderful in no time! Tell him I'd like him to start right away.”

Susannah looked stricken for an instant, but she recovered. “No matter how good Joe is, he won't get all that done before your Christmas do. But all right. I'll go see him, Granny Rose.”

“Fine.”

Rose hopped up and grabbed her coat before Susannah could think of an excuse to avoid speaking to Joe again. She gave Susannah Joe's correct address and made certain that her granddaughter knew exactly how to get there. Then, with cheery goodbyes for everyone in the diner, Rose went off to her doctor's appointment.

With Rose gone, Susannah sat for several minutes, ostensibly to finish her coffee. Actually, she was working up the courage to go looking for Joe Santori. She finally paid Marge for their breakfasts on her way out the door. A chorus of goodbyes rang out as Susannah left the diner, making her feel as if she'd been warmly welcomed back to Tyler. She waved to everyone and set off down the street.

Determined to settle things with the exasperatingly attractive and annoyingly bossy Mr. Santori as quickly as possible, she walked briskly to Joe's house, a mere three blocks from the diner. The sun sparkled brightly on the snow-covered lawns of Tyler, looking very pretty. The whole town was just as delightful as it always was. She had to dart out of the way of a gigantic snowplow when she crossed Main Street, but the driver of the plow tooted his horn and waved to her in a friendly way. Susannah waved back.

When she arrived at the Santori residence, Susannah realized she knew the house. It had been the home of her second-grade teacher, Miss Sternburg, who'd unfortunately let the place go to rack and ruin in her later years. Susannah was glad to see that Joe had rescued the structure. It was a charming Victorian house—not nearly as large as Susannah's grandmother's, but every bit as picturesque, with gingerbread trim, a pretty side porch with a rose trellis, a picket fence draped with Christmas lights and a separate garage attached to the house by a covered walkway overgrown with grapevines. The house was yellow with white trim, and the mailbox at the front gate had been built to match the shape and configuration of the garage. Over the garage door was a sign that read simply, Santori Construction.

Looking at that quaint yellow house—so obviously a labor of love—gave Susannah pause. It was the house of a man who cared about little things. He cared about his house, his neighbors, his grape arbor, his roses. Obviously, he even cared about little old ladies who lived a few blocks away.

Susannah's courage almost failed her. Maybe Joe
was
right. Maybe she needed to butt in where her grandmother's health
was concerned and damn the consequences. Perhaps Joe's experience with his wife's illness had led him to the conclusion that not interfering was far worse than hurting someone's feelings.

Torn, Susannah almost turned around and walked away. But as she hesitated on the sidewalk, who should come around the corner at that moment but Lars, the newspaper boy.

He spotted Susannah and gave her a big, loopy grin. “Hi, Miss Atkins!”

“Good morning again, Lars.”

“What are you doing here? Looking for Mr. Santori?”

“Well, yes.”

“Have you seen Gina yet?”

“Gina? Oh, his daughter. No, I haven't.”

Lars looked disappointed. “Oh. I was hoping she'd be around this morning. Sometimes she's having breakfast when I bring the paper. I like to wave at her through the window. That's their breakfast room right there. Through that big window.” Lars pointed a long, bony finger toward the large picture window at the front of the Victorian turret. “Once Gina opened the window and gave me an English muffin. It was a little burned around the edges, but I didn't mind.”

“She's a friend of yours?” Susannah asked, amused by Lars's loquaciousness with a celebrity.

Lars sighed. “I wish she was. But most of the time Gina doesn't know I exist.”

I should be so lucky with another member of the Santori family,
Susannah thought. “Well, I'm sure that will change eventually.”

Shaking his head, Lars said, “I don't know. Gina can be real tough sometimes. She's the star of the girls' basketball team, you know. Last game, she broke another girl's nose. It was an accident, of course—I guess basketball can get kinda rough under the hoops—but that nose was broken in two places. She's something.”

Susannah had walked with Lars up the sidewalk and the porch steps. As they reached the front door, it was suddenly
yanked open from within. A slim, dark-haired girl stood inside, looking belligerent.

“It's about time you got here,” she said to Lars. “Where's the paper? I want to check the hockey scores.”

“The paper's r-right here, Gina,” said Lars, eagerly digging one out of his bag. “There's a sale at Gates Department Store, and a Kevin Costner movie is playing at the theater in Belton.”

With sarcasm, Gina said, “Great. Too bad I hate shopping almost as much as I hate Kevin Costner.” She snatched the newspaper out of the boy's hand.

“Yeah,” Lars said faintly. “Too bad.”

He shuffled off the porch, head drooping, and soon disappeared around the corner.

Susannah turned back to Gina. “Lars seems like a nice boy.”

Gina shrugged. “I'm not into boys. Can I help you?”

Susannah maintained her smile in the face of the girl's blunt behavior. “My name is Susannah Atkins. I was wondering if your father is—”

Gina snapped her fingers. “The lady on television!” Her eyes widened as she recognized a celebrity standing on her front porch.
“Oh, Susannah!”

Susannah smiled politely. “Yes, I'm Susannah Atkins, all right.”

“I hate that show,” Gina said with only the slightest trace of apology—a characteristic Susannah recognized she shared with her opinionated father. The girl leaned her shoulder against the open door and folded her arms over her chest, saying, “It's all girl junk. I think it's demeaning to women.”

“It's a household-hints program,” Susannah shot back at once. “I don't decide who actually performs the things I discuss on my show, do I?”