“Why didn’t you go on in?” I gestured at the pottery chicken perched by the doorframe. “You know where I hide the spare key.”
Althea shrugged and made no move to get out of her chair. “I knew you were on the way. Besides, there’s nothin’ like a Halloween sunset. You can just feel the kiddies bouncin’ up and down with anticipation, beggin’ their mamas and daddies to hurry, hurry, hurry!” She reached over and poked Trey in the ribs with her index finger. “You sure you don’t want to grab a pillowcase and run around with the tykes? I know what a sweet tooth you’ve got.”
Trey smiled at her indulgently. “I’ll just eat the good stuff out of Mom’s trick-or-treat bucket. I’d actually be doing the kids in this neighborhood a service. Maybe she could hand out dental floss or toothbrushes instead.”
I pretended to be horrified. “Do you seriously want my house to be covered in eggs and toilet paper?”
With the grace of an athlete in his prime, Trey unfolded his long frame from the chair and crossed the porch to where I stood. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze. “I heard about what happened at the festival. Are you okay?”
I returned the embrace; relishing his scent of wood smoke and the goat’s milk soap he helped produce at the co-op. “I’ll be all right, honey. But let’s not talk about it tonight. I only want to hear about you. That always makes me feel better.”
He stepped back to pick up the grocery bags. He peered into them and grinned when he saw the delicious ingredients I had purchased to prepare dinner. “Wow, Mom. This looks way better than candy.”
“So which chicken did you go with?” Althea wanted to know. “Piccata, Parmesan, or marsala?”
“Not marsala,” I said, opening the front door. “You still don’t like mushrooms, do you, Trey?”
His mouth turned down in disgust. “I think they’re gross,” he replied and walked inside.
I gave him time to settle at the kitchen table with a cutting board boasting an array of plump grapes, sliced Havarti, and salty wheat crackers before I asked what was wrong. After she poured me a glass of pinot grigio and sat down with her tumbler of Jim Beam, Althea nodded at Trey encouragingly.
“Come on, get it off your chest. Whatever’s troublin’ you has been sittin’ on your shoulders like a big, fat cat.” When Trey said nothing, she continued. “I know you men like to keep things to yourselves, but women have a way of seein’ a problem from a different angle.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “Go on, son. Spill.”
Trey released a heavy sigh. “Something’s changed at the co-op. In the beginning, I felt like I really fit in there, you know? They got who I was. And I had stuff to offer them, too, like the new product designs. Everything’s been going so great. I have friends, a job, and…” He left the rest unsaid, but I knew he was thinking of Iris Gyles. Trey had had a crush on her from the moment they’d met, but I didn’t know if she felt the same way. Could she have turned down his romantic advances? Was he nursing a broken heart or had something more serious happened?
“Please tell me it’s nothing violent,” I murmured softly, and he quickly shook his head.
“Jasper spent all summer telling me how the co-op didn’t operate in hopes of making a profit—that the people of Red Fox were looking, you know, for something deeper.” He blushed, slightly embarrassed over having to find words to aptly describe the socialist-type lifestyle he’d adopted. “But he’s been charging kids my age to hang out with us. They’re not working or anything. They just meditate with him for a few hours and then go. And they seem totally cool about paying him what he asks.”
I dipped the last of the chicken cutlets in an egg wash before coating it with breadcrumbs and poured some oil into a skillet. As the flame of the cooktop burner sprung into blue life, I said, “Do you think Jasper is taking advantage of these kids?”
Trey shrugged. “I dunno. But I heard him talking about buying all these expensive space heaters and laptops and stuff. And people have never had to pay to walk the trails or to just find a quiet place to chill out before. We don’t own the land.”
“Yet Jasper’s actin’ like he’s king of the mountain?” Althea guessed.
“Yeah. He’s just…different than when I first moved up there.”
Even though I was focused on browning the chicken, I could sense Trey’s reluctance to bad-mouth the co-op’s leader. Still, he sat rigidly in his chair and the grip on the cheese knife was too firm. My son was truly troubled.
I waited for the chicken to cook, transferred it to a plate covered with paper towels, and then placed my hand on my son’s shoulder. “Can you talk to him? Tell him that it doesn’t feel right to collect money from people who just want to get away from it all for a bit?”