CHAPTER 8
LILA
Crete was waiting for me at the garage a few days later when Carl dropped me off after work, and seeing him there made me nervous. He joked around with Carl like he always did, like everything was fine, but it wasn’t. Things had been tense between us since I brushed him off, and he’d barely spoken to me. No more friendly conversation. No more mention of installing AC. I figured he wasn’t used to getting turned down, that he was pissed or embarrassed, but sooner or later he’d get over it.
“Hey,” he said when Carl’s truck pulled away. “It’s payday.” He handed me an envelope.
“Thanks,” I said, opening it up. Instead of a check, there was cash. And not much. I knew room and board were being deducted from my pay, but how much could it possibly cost to put me up in the crap-hole garage? “Where’s the rest of it?”
“I was thinking it might be best if I put the money straight into a savings account, so you don’t have to mess with it. I know you’re wanting to save it all anyhow, and you don’t have much in the way of expenses. That pocket money there should cover whatever you need.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather handle it myself,” I said. “I could go into town and set up an account.”
He sighed. “Sorry,” he said. “I think it’s best this way.”
“Well, I don’t. It’s my money, and it’s not up to you what I do with it.”
“Contract says otherwise,” he said. “Guess you didn’t read the fine print.”
I was so angry I was shaking. I stood there mute and watched him get back in his truck. “Asshole!” The word tore out of my throat as he disappeared down the road. I knew he was trying to get back at me, to show me he was in control, but he was taking it too far. He couldn’t keep my money. The problem was, I didn’t know what to do about it. I paced around the garage, working it over in my head.
Crete didn’t come around the next day. Ransome told me he’d gone to Arkansas on business, but he’d left a new work schedule. I would have Thursdays off. When she spread out the tarp at lunchtime and sat to one side to make room for me, I told her I needed to rest. I ate crackers and beef jerky alone in the garage. Ransome was staking tomato plants on the far side of the field when I came out, but she’d left a plastic cup of tea outside my door. I brushed ants from the rim and drank.
——
I practically jumped on Carl when he came into the restaurant that night, and he couldn’t have looked happier to have my attention. I’d been worried he’d have to work on Thursday, and he did, but he assured me his hours could be rearranged. He’d have plenty of time to drive me to town, though he wouldn’t hear of dropping me off. He insisted that he’d take me to eat at the bakery and help with my errands. You’ll need somebody to show you where everything is, he said. I’d gone through the slender phone book and written down the address of the grocery store and the one attorney who had an ad in the yellow pages. They were on the same street, one block apart.
He showed up at my door the next morning freshly scrubbed and reeking of Old Spice. “You look nice today,” he said, holding the door of the truck open for me. He was obviously delusional. I hadn’t bothered to fix myself up in the least. My hair was wet, my eyes shadowed from lack of sleep. “I shouldn’t say that,” he corrected, smiling. “You look nice every day.”
His sweetness was almost unbearable after the crappy couple of days I’d had, and I couldn’t look at him. I stared down at my lap. I was wearing a yellow sundress I’d borrowed from Crystal and never given back.
“Hey, are you doing okay?” he asked. From the corner of my eye, I saw his hand move toward me and then pull back. “Feeling homesick?”
He always seemed to think homesickness was the worst problem you could have. I shook my head. I missed the memory of home, but home as I remembered it no longer existed. The most important pieces of my former life were dead and buried, and I couldn’t reclaim them by going back. “I’m fine,” I said. We drove down the blacktop, and I watched the lush greenery flow by.
“I hope those guys at the restaurant aren’t getting you down,” he said.
I didn’t want to talk about any of the things that were really bothering me, most notably his brother. So I nodded. “They’re jerks.”
Carl cleared his throat. “The one with the beard? I … heard him say something the other night.”
I didn’t know which one he was talking about. I was pretty sure they all had some kind of facial hair and were equally offensive.
“I’m fixing to have a talk with Joe Bill Sump,” he said gruffly. “I’m gonna clear things up a bit. Don’t you worry about him.”
Joe Bill? That was probably the worst name I’d ever heard. I had to smile a little at the thought of Carl sticking up for me.
We reached the city limits of Henbane, population 707. The welcome sign was peppered with holes, as if someone had blasted it with a shotgun. A two-story limestone courthouse dominated the tree-lined town square, and shops surrounded it on three sides. Henbane was the county seat, Carl explained, the biggest town in Ozark County. I imagined the entire population would fit on the courthouse lawn.
The Donut Hole was no different from Dane’s in that everyone stared at me and the food was greasy. Carl insisted on paying, and I let him, since I didn’t have much cash. After breakfast, we crossed the square to the attorney’s office. I didn’t want to tell Carl I was seeing a lawyer because I was afraid he’d mention it to Crete, but there was no way to hide it from him. So I told him I had some legal questions about my parents’ estate.
“I’ll go in with you,” he said. “I’ve known Ray Walker since I was a kid.”
He said the same thing about everyone we saw. It seemed that, aside from me, not a single new person had entered his life, they all had always been there. “If you don’t mind,” I said, “I’d feel more comfortable alone. I don’t talk much … about my parents.”
“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. Sure. I’ll wait right out here. Take your time.” He sat down on a bench outside the office. “Just holler if you need me.”
I stepped inside the aggressively air-conditioned entryway and erupted in goose bumps. The secretary spoke briefly to Mr. Walker on the phone and then rose to open the door to his office. He looked momentarily stunned when he saw me—shocked to see an unfamiliar face, I assumed—and then quickly regained his composure.
“Please come in,” he said. He was tall and angular, wearing a white dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a tie with the knot loosened. His graying hair was combed to the side with pomade, and his eyes were pale and piercing. He stared at me expectantly.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Lila Petrovich.”
“I know who you are,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. “I expect the whole town knows by now. I’m Ray Walker. Let’s have a seat, shall we?”
I followed him around the billiard table that dominated the room. He sat behind a polished mahogany desk, and I sat across from him.
“What brings you here?” he asked.
While I tried to decide what to say, he poured two cups of coffee and slid one across the desk to me. “If I tell you something, do you have to keep it to yourself?” I asked. If he knew Carl, he probably knew Crete, and I didn’t want the conversation getting back to my employer.
“Well,” he said, stirring sugar into his coffee, “I do abide by the attorney-client privilege, if that’s what you’re asking.”
That didn’t ease my fears, but I didn’t have much of a choice. “I have some questions about a contract, and I wondered if you could look at it for me.”
He laughed, and it turned into a cough that went on for a minute until he cleared his throat. “Would this be a contract with Crete Dane?”
I nodded.
“Then I imagine your contract is pretty well binding.”
The room suddenly felt too small. “Did you write it?”
“Lord, no.” He chuckled. “He retains what you might call a more prestigious firm in Springfield. Lucky for you, I suppose. No conflict of interest.”
“So you could help me.”
“Possibly. I would need a retainer, and I would need to see a copy of the contract.”
I didn’t have either of those things. “How much is the retainer?”
He wrote a number on a notepad and showed it to me. I fidgeted in my seat. “Do you have a payment plan?”
He stared at me as though trying to gauge something with no standard of measurement. He took a swallow from his mug and sighed. “Do you have any money at all?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, not very much. That’s partly why I’m here. If you could just give me some advice—”
He held out a hand to stop me. “I am a country lawyer, madam. I have accepted chickens in settlement of a debt, and I am certain we can work something out. But I must insist on a small percentage of cash up front. Bonnie can explain the terms on your way out, and you can come back and see me when you have the means to move forward.”
“Thank you,” I said, standing to leave.
“Aren’t you worried he’ll find out you’ve been here?”
His words froze me. “Should I be?”
“I won’t say anything, of course,” he said. “Neither will Bonnie; her job depends on it. But other people may have seen you come in. And people talk. Now, I’m on his bad side already, but if I were you, I’d think long and hard about which side of Crete Dane you want to be on.”
“It’s too late, I think,” I said.
Mr. Walker swirled his coffee cup. “I figured,” he said.