The Old House (7 page)

“I heard you kids got in trouble in school again, shut down a couple of classrooms.”

Max gave him a look that appeared to denote distaste. “Not me,” he denied. “Some of the other kids. Only closed one classroom and the library.”

“You want to watch it,” Gus said, anyway. “I know you kids all think old Faulkner is a joke of a principal, but he can kick you out of school. I'll tell you, you get expelled, no way I'm driving you over to Kalispell to school.”

Max's jaws clenched visibly. “I'm not getting kicked out of school, Pa.”

“When
I was a kid, I got in trouble in school. I was in more trouble when I got home. My old man lit into me with his belt.”

Buddy was watching Max and saw the expression that came over his face. Max was smaller than his father, but Buddy was suddenly convinced that he would resist to his utmost if Gus tried to whip him.

A dysfunctional family
, Max had said. She hadn't asked Bart for a definition, but she had a pretty good idea what Max had been talking about. She didn't think she cared for Uncle Gus very much.

“How come nobody ever feeds me?” Grandpa asked from the doorway of his room. He pushed the button to activate the voice on his watch. “Is supper all over?”

“No, Grandpa, it's not ready yet,” Cassie said.

The old man wandered across the room toward the area where food was being prepared. “I smell cucumbers. Don't put any in my salad, Sister.”

“Max is making them separate, and no cucumbers in yours. Go sit down, honey. It'll be ready in a few minutes.”

Grandpa tapped out with his cane and located a chair. “Did you know Blackie came back? He was lost, but he came back.”

“No, Grandpa, Blackie didn't come back,” Addie said, steering him into the chair. “Blackie died, remember?”

“No, he didn't. He's sleeping on my bed right now. Been there all afternoon.”

“My kitten!” Max said, suddenly agitated. “That's where he went!”

He left his salad assembly line and trotted over to the open door to the old man's room. “Hey, there you are, you scamp. That's what I'm going to call him, Scamp.”

Gus was scowling. “Where'd you get that critter? You know I don't like cats.”

“I'll keep him out of your way,” Max said, cradling the kitten.

“I like cats,” Grandpa said. “I always had cats around the house, and the store, too.” He hesitated, an odd, rather lost expression coming over his face. “Do I still have the store?”

“No, Grandpa. You sold the store after you had a stroke,” Addie told him.

Grandpa's
forehead wrinkled up as he tried to remember. “I sold the store?”

“Yes. To Alf Peterson.”

The forehead got more wrinkled. “I never liked Alf Peterson.”

“Neither did anyone else, but he paid you in cash. And you couldn't keep running the place anymore.”

“Cash,” Grandpa repeated. “There
was
a lot of cash, wasn't there? A big pile. A whole bag full.”

Suddenly the room was full of tension.

Buddy didn't have the slightest idea why, but she stiffened, feeling as if the air had abruptly turned blue.

Cassie forgot to stir the gravy she was making. Addie paused with the last napkin in her hand, not placing it on the table. Gus rested his beer bottle on the table and seemed almost to be holding his breath.

And Max . . . when Buddy's gaze swept toward him, Max was staring at
her.

Whatever the problem, Buddy thought, Max knew what it was. And somehow it involved her, though she couldn't imagine how that could be.

And then, as if someone had hit the
pause
button on a remote control, freezing all the action, it was as if the
play
button had been activated, and motion resumed.

The atmosphere at the supper table was quite different from what it had been at lunch, and Buddy knew exactly why.

Gus dominated what conversation there was. Max said nothing at all unless someone directly addressed him. He had put down another bowl for the kitten and was watching him, avoiding his father's attention as much as he could.

Gus talked about the fellows down at the Hayloft, the local tavern. He talked about sporting events and scores. He informed them that there was a Seahawks-Raiders game on the satellite at seven o'clock, if they wanted to watch.

Nobody rose to the bait. Bart and Dad had watched football games on TV, especially
when the Seattle team was playing, and often Buddy had joined them to cheer on the Seahawks. It had always been a fun evening, and they'd popped corn or baked pizza and sipped soft drinks.

Gus slurped beer.

The cooking was excellent. Buddy realized how poorly she and her own family had been fed since Mom was gone, depending on simple recipes with little seasoning, or take-out foods, or frozen dinners. They hadn't tasted anything like this beef roasted with potatoes and carrots and onions. Their salads hadn't been topped by sunflower seeds and slices of pale green avocado.

Yet nobody complimented the cook. Gus rose in the middle of the meal and got another bottle of beer. “Listen,” he said to Max. “You get that front yard mowed tomorrow, you hear?”

Max nodded, not speaking.

“And you'd better bundle up them old newspapers and get 'em over to the recycling bin.”

Cassie cleared her throat. “I was hoping you might have time to put up the storm windows tomorrow, Gus. We haven't had any bad
weather yet this year, but last year this time we got that big blow, and the first snow.”

Gus gave her a disgusted look. “And I hurt my back getting them windows in, don't you remember? Listen, if Max can't manage 'em, why don't you go ahead and hire somebody to do it? Jim Silva's always looking for a small job to pick up a little extra.”

Addie spoke for the first time since Grandpa had been asked to say grace, which he did surprisingly well. “And where did you figure we were going to get the money to pay Jim?”

“Didn't you just get a check from Gordon? I saw the envelope on the dining room table. Good old rich Gordon, he always comes through, don't he?”

Addie's lips thinned. “The money Gordon sent was to buy new tires for the car, so we'll feel safe enough to drive into Kalispell if we have to. We can't ask Gordon to pay for everything. It's a good thing Daddy left us a little annuity to keep this place running, but he never figured on what inflation was going to be like, and there isn't enough to go around for anything luxurious.”

“Didn't
bother you to ask him to buy you that computer, did it? That must have set him back a bundle.”

“He lent me the money for the computer. I'll pay him back when I sell something,” Addie defended herself. “And it's none of your business, anyway, Gus.”

“Yeah, well, I hope he ain't holding his breath, waiting for you to sell one of them romancy novels of yours. At least Gordon's making enough money so he can afford to waste some of it. I'm sure not. My disability pension ain't enough to cover much but the essentials,” Gus said, helping himself to two more biscuits and slathering them with butter. Suddenly he jumped sideways and glared at Grandpa. “For crying out loud, look what you did! You got it all over me!”

Cassie was on her feet, hustling for a dish towel to wipe up the spilled water. “You know he can't see a glass of water. It's the same as invisible.”

“Then let him sit next to somebody else,” Gus grumbled, wiping at his pants.

Grandpa activated his watch. “Is it time for
Jeopardy! 
?” he wanted to know.

“
Not for half an hour yet,” Cassie told him. “Finish your supper, honey.”

They all finished in silence. Buddy was glad nobody expected her to speak up while Gus was there.

He was the first to push back his chair. “Got to get moving,” he said, as if he had an appointment. “That bowling match starts in just a bit. Got me a little bet on that Scheffler fella, bet he's going to come out on top.”

Again, Addie's mouth pinched up. Gus couldn't afford to help pay someone to put up the storm windows, but he could put a bet on a bowling game, and he could sit at the tavern all evening, no doubt buying more beers. Buddy was beginning to understand why Addie wondered how Cassie could have married the man.

She realized that Max was looking at her. When he saw that she'd noticed, he shrugged. “You look different with your hair cut that way.”

She'd almost forgotten that. She couldn't tell from his tone whether he thought she looked better or worse.

Gus was nearly out of the kitchen when he stepped in the kitten's bowl, and maybe on his tail, too, because he yowled and leaped away from him. Gus swore. “There's no way you're keeping that critter where people can trip over him,” he said to Max, who was already on his feet to rescue the newly named Scamp.

“I want Blackie to sit in my lap while I listen to
Jeopardy!,
like he used to do,” Grandpa said, getting up, too.

“He's not Blackie, Grandpa, he's my new kitten,” Max protested, but Grandpa was already reaching for the small animal.

Instinctively, Max clutched the kitten tighter, looking beseechingly at Cassie. “He's mine, not Grandpa's Blackie.”

“Oh, Max, let him take the cat,” Cassie urged. “Of course he's yours, and he'll probably forget all about it by tomorrow. Let Grandpa hold him for a while now. Buddy, you want to help me clear the table?”

Buddy saw Max's expression and wished she could help. His jaw was clenched as he handed over the kitten and let the old man carry him toward the living room.

Nobody else was interested in listening to
Jeopardy!
The atmosphere changed when Gus had gone, though. Buddy could feel everybody relaxing. Cassie got out a basket of mending, Addie announced that she was going up to work on the computer, and Max muttered something about running next door to Jeremy's house for a few minutes.

That left Buddy with little to do.

In the living room, which was large and comfortable, with two couches and several recliner chairs—all but one of them old and shabby—she found a tall bookshelf. Grandpa was settled in front of the TV with the remote in his hand, with his program on loud enough to make her ears hurt.

The books were mostly ones she remembered her mother talking about from many years ago, most of which Buddy had read, too. But there, on one middle shelf, were some with newer covers and titles. Nothing for kids, but then she often read books that Bart or Dad brought home.

She took two of the most likely looking ones and decided to carry them back to the sewing
room that was now her own. She could still hear the television, but at least it didn't make her ears ache.

She didn't really feel like reading, though. She couldn't stop thinking about her brother, out there somewhere sleeping in rest stops, asking people if they'd seen an eighteen-wheeler, the sleeper cab painted bright green with an
EDMONDS TRUCKING
logo on the door. He'd be asking if they remembered Dad or Rich, and describing them. She prayed somebody would know what had happened to keep them from delivering their load as scheduled. She prayed Dad was safe, and that Bart would be, too.

Halfheartedly, Buddy opened one of the books and began to read. It was a true story of someone whose yard and home had been invaded by a bear cub, and it was both touching and funny, entertaining enough so that she gradually got engrossed in the antics of the bear.

She hadn't closed the door into the little room, so she looked up at once when Cassie tapped on the doorframe.

“We're all going to have a snack before bedtime,” Cassie said. “
You want to come out and join us?”

Buddy was surprised to realize she'd been reading for several hours. She put the book aside and followed her aunt toward the kitchen. She could hear Grandpa there, checking the time, and met Addie coming down the stairs at the same time as Max came in the back door.

Everybody was there except Gus.

“I'm heating some milk for cocoa,” Cassie said to all of them as they assembled in the kitchen. “There are some chocolate cookies to go with it. Shall we sit around the table here?”

The kitten had gotten off Grandpa's lap when he'd left the TV behind, and Max was quick to snatch him up and cradle him against his chest.

“How come I don't have the store anymore?” Grandpa asked plaintively, sitting down in one of the old oak chairs.

“You sold it, honey,” Cassie said, checking the pan of milk on the stove.

“I didn't want to sell it,” Grandpa said. “I worked in that store my whole adult life. Didn't I?”

“
You sure did,” Cassie agreed.

“I always gave people a good deal. Fair prices. Good service. Everybody in town came in there to buy their furniture and appliances.”

“That's right,” Cassie confirmed.

“Then why did I sell it?”

Cassie and Addie exchanged a look, and once more Buddy sensed mysterious currents that she couldn't interpret. “You had a stroke, Grandpa,” Addie told him, bringing out the plate of cookies. “You couldn't work anymore.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About two and a half years ago. Here, you want one of these?”

“I always want a cookie.” Grandpa reached to take one and noticed Buddy, just sitting down across from him. “Who's this?”

“You remember. Buddy,” Cassie said. “EllaBelle's girl.”

He nodded. “Where's EllaBelle?”

This time the current swirled for only seconds before Addie said calmly, “She died, Grandpa. In a car wreck.”

“She did? Was he driving? That fellow she married?”

“
No, she was alone when it happened. She skidded on the ice.”

Grandpa nibbled thoughtfully. “Always liked that boy. Dan, wasn't that his name?”