EYES ON YOU Page 5

  The boy’s mouth had briefly lifted at one side while he had listened to Roman’s nonsense.

  “Makes you wish you were back in rainy, chilly, fog-ridden Seattle.”

  “I’ll take Seattle any day,” Aden said with certainty, his expression having turned again into a mask of defiance. “It’s where we live, and where we need to be.”

  After Malcolm Lundry made a short production of presenting their hotdogs and potato chips to them, the hotdogs grilled just right and piping hot, Mal placed a plate with a cool dog down for Mona, having cut it up into pieces for her. The dog refused to look at Roman as she scarfed it down, and Mal said, “Left over from lunch—was throwin’ it out anyways.”

  Tolerant of yet another handout being given to Mona, Roman settled for an easy-going smile, thanking Mal.

  As soon as the owner of Jerry’s walked off again, Roman watched as the boy squirted mustard all over his hotdog, and said, “You really don’t think you dad committed suicide?”

  “Heck no!” Aden adamantly said. “He was murdered.”

  *****

  By three o’clock, they had barely scratched the surface of anything, but they had gotten the initial interview out of the way, and that was about the most Roman could hope to accomplish. The black Land Rover pulled in at a slant in front of Jerry’s, Mom didn’t get out, and Roman and Mona walked the boy out. Aden had tried to pay for his hotdog and Coke, pulling out his money, but Roman paid Malcolm as though it were an afterthought.

  When the boy opened the front passenger door of the Rover, Roman got a glimpse of Aden’s sister, Molly. His first impression of the young girl was that she appeared happy, even while turning down her I-Pod to be polite. She had a long blond braid, and was a spectacularly cute kid as she caught sight of Mona, unbuckled her seatbelt, and stared at Mona while grinning.

  “What’s his name?” she asked.

  “Mona,” Roman replied, smiling at the young girl. “It’s a she.”

  “This is Molly,” Jessica Leitner said while keeping the engine running.

  “Good Golly, Miss Molly!” Roman said in an amusing, deeper voice, sticking out a hand while delivering what had first popped into his head. “I’m Roman.” He received a surprised giggle from the youngest Leitner as Molly stuck one of her mitten-shod hands out to briefly shake Roman’s, while keeping her eyes focused on Mona. Molly’s mom might have smiled a bit too at Roman’s inane and dated bit of humor, but he wasn’t sure.

  He looked at Aden, the young guy having shrunk into the front passenger seat to try to stay warmer. “I’ll see you for a regular session on Monday afternoon—at 4:00? That’ll give you a little time to stop by Jerry’s, before we meet at my office.” Roman glanced backward at the diner, alluding to the fact that the boy had woofed down his hotdog, along with a heaping pile of potato chips and a soda. His tongue-in-cheek way with humor sometimes worked, although the boy wasn’t being cooperative. So he looked at Ms. Leitner before confirming her appointment. “Next Tuesday at seven?”

  “Seven A.M.?”

  “We’ll have coffee or something at Lenore’s…”

  When she didn’t protest, but had a strange look on her face, he made no comment.

  *****

  Light snow was beginning to fall when he and Mona got into the city’s queue of passenger vehicles, most of them early commuters who were going home to the island. He was surprised when he got right in behind Ms. Leitner’s Range Rover, noticing that she still had a Washington State license tag on her vehicle. Was she planning to return to Seattle, maybe when school was out for the summer? This might just be a break that was needed after what happened. Why would a man cop out on such a beautiful family?

  Mona had more than earned a nap and was snoozing in the backseat when Roman’s vehicle started to warm up. He left the engine running, settling in for a fifteen-minute wait for the next ferry and turned on the radio. As soon as he closed his eyes, her face popped into his mind. It was…intriguing. There were a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. He wondered about her background, and if she had always lived in Seattle. She had glossy, long hair…haunted green eyes…

  Opening his eyes and seeing the vehicle ahead, Roman reminded himself that he was like a priest: he was required to be a listener, a provider of insight, a helper for others who needed to sort through their feelings and their problems: he was a confessor, the keeper of many secrets, forbidden to judge anyone who sought his services. And he was also prohibited from overstepping boundaries between counselor and client.

  Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw other vehicles that had lined up to make the ferry crossing to Whittler Island. He could not have guessed who was in the second vehicle behind his, since he was so engrossed in thoughts about the occupants in the vehicle ahead of him. He rationalized his interest in them as clinical, which was true. Jessica Leitner had said that they were staying with her aunt, Ruth Fenwick. That meant that they lived just down the hill and a half block over from his mother, and yet—he’d never even noticed. Julia Mayer would know something about Ruth Fenwick’s relatives, if he were to ask her, and that was something he was definitely going to do.

  CHAPTER 7

  Herman and Julia Mayer had once owned the only grocery store on Whittler Island. If Herman were alive fifty-seven years later, he would still own the only store on the island to provide its citizens with a wide variety of fresh breads, pastries, choice-cut meats, poultry, seafood, fresh fruits and vegetables, a floral department, and all manner of other grocery and sundry items. In 1960, he had started out small, providing residents a general smattering of the necessities, along with his featured array of freshly-cut meats. He had been the quintessential butcher, cutting to order prime beef, pork, lamb as well as assorted poultry and seafood items. His immaculate store quickly became legendary.

  After ten years in the business, the store outgrew itself, offering so many food items that the building could barely contain them. Herman and Julia had saved their money for years to buy property adjacent to their store and finally took out a large loan to build a full-sized independent grocery. In another ten years, they paid off the loan with a thriving business that came with a trusted reputation. The store was patronized not only by locals, but by mainlanders who made the ferry ride specifically to buy a week’s worth of meats, poultry, seafood, and other items from Herman Mayer.

  He had passed away four years ago at the age of eighty from a heart attack. The news of his passing was not only traumatic for the Mayer family, but for most of the people on the island. Julia was then seventy-two, and couldn’t continue running the business by herself, so she sold the store to a man by the name of Albert Kromer. Al kept the grocery store independent and did quite well for himself because he kept fresh-cut meats and seafood as his mainstay. The shrewdest of his business decisions, however, was his foresight in keeping the grocery store’s name: Mayer’s Fresh Market. A two-bit outfit, as locals called it, had tried to make a go of it, but couldn’t compete with the fresh flowers, fresh fruits and vegetables, fresh everything in season, which Mayer’s Fresh Market continued to provide its customers. Walmart and Kroger’s took a lot of the business from the mainland away, but plenty of people still made the ten-minute ferry crossing to buy Mayer’s prime meats.

  The year before his father died, Roman had given up his practice in Atlanta to be close to his aging parents, and after Herman died, Roman thought he’d made the right decision. He’d had a wonderful final year with a man who he believed was the World’s Greatest Dad. Herman was proud of all three of his children, telling everyone that he and Julia had accomplished everything they’d ever set out to do in life. They were the honored parents of kids who were the first generation to go to college, all three working in professional level careers. Herman and Julia had worked six and seven days a week for years to help launch their kids, and felt great satisfaction in their success.

  The snow shower had not yet spread eastward to the island. As soon as Roman arri
ved at his mother’s house, he took off Mona’s sweater so that she wouldn’t get overheated, and began playing soccer with her. The naps she’d taken while they had waited for the ferry, and then on the crossing, had revitalized her. Roman threw a lighter, plastic version of a soccer ball into the air, Mona leapt for it, and when it hit the ground, she began pushing it hard with her nose, around the big yard. Eventually, she would nose it back to Roman and he would throw it again, and again, high into the air. Before he’d injured his ankle, he had kicked the ball rather than thrown it. This form of play was absolutely essential for Mona’s emotional and physical well-being; Catahoulas were high-energy dogs and Mona, regardless of her fancy pedigree, was still a typical hound. They played her favorite game for nearly an hour, until both dog and master had had enough, and light snow had begun to fall.

  As soon as he and Mona went inside, Roman reached down for Mona’s bowl, but Julia had beat him to it, and was placing the bowl of fresh water on Mona’s food pad. The dog went right to it and began lapping like mad.

  Julia said, “Thirsty girl.” She smiled at Roman. At nearly seventy-seven, Julia was still spry, never missing a beat. Just a bit slower with whatever she was doing.

  Roman smelled something he recognized. “Chili?”

  “You’ve got it,” she replied in her usual perky voice. “I heard you were dieting, so I thought chili’s on the list, although I see no reason, whatsoever, for slimming down.” She had to look nearly straight up to see Roman’s face. Her children’s height had come from their paternal grandfather, a man who had stood six feet eight inches when alive.

  Gently, Roman wrapped both arms around her for a thorough hug and then a kiss on her cheek, having to bend very low. Julia loved her son’s demonstrative nature. “It’s nearly ready. I thought you’d want something hearty before going back over for Patrick’s game.”

  “I’d never refuse chili,” he said with certainty. “I take it you and Cheryl had a nice talk?”

  Julia had finally allowed her hair to go gray. She’d always been a dark blonde, thanks to her weekly hairdresser visits, but now her hair was steel gray. She kept it well coifed, and her slim frame hadn’t changed one iota her entire life. She turned to stir a huge pot that was simmering on the stove in her small kitchen. “We always talk—yes.” She laughed when Mona finally stopped lapping water and sprawled on the floor near her bowl.

  Feeling too warm in his mother’s home, Roman removed his sweater and parka, hanging both on a coat rack near the back door. Julia kept the heat turned up high—older people really tended to feel the cold. He realized there was something cooking besides chili when, hoping for a draft of cooler air, he sat down next to the window by the kitchen table.

  Before he could utter another word, from out of the blue, his mother said, “Of course I knew Ruth Fenwick’s niece and her family have come to live here.” Busying herself with another stir of the pot, she added, “Needs more cumin...and maybe a tidge more salt.” She hadn’t tasted it, but sprinkled a little more of both seasonings into the pot anyway, while continuing to stir.

  “I wasn’t asking about Ruth’s niece and her family,” Roman said, taking off his shoe to massage his ankle.

  Julia turned to face her older son and said, “But you would have.” She grinned, her eyes growing brighter with intrigue. “Jessica bought a house a couple of weeks ago. The Hartman place. It needed some initial work, so she and the kids are continuing to stay with Ruth until a new heating system is installed. Some of the appliances in the kitchen have been replaced too, and…oh…yes, there’s been some plumbing upgrades. There’s always more to do in an old place like that.” His mother watched a lot of HGTV. “She’s already allowed the movers to deliver her furniture that’s been in storage—so I guess they’ll be moving in before long.”

  A world of knowledge regarding the Leitners was forthcoming from his mother, arising from her friendship with Ruth Fenwick and other friends who lived on Whittler Island. Nothing much got past the Merry Geezers as they called themselves—a group of old-timers, mostly women, but with a few men mixed in too, who enjoyed nothing more than knowing the goings-on about anything pertaining to Whittler. Roman now knew that Jessica Leitner had planned to stay—obviously—because she’d bought a house, and had gone to the expense of having her household items moved.

  “I confess,” Julia said with a degree of regret, “I failed to mention all this news. Things were happening over the holidays, you were very busy, and we got behind on island happenings.”

  “Oh horrors,” Roman muttered. “You mean you and your friends actually do get behind on island news?”

  Grinning and tittering a bit, Julia tilted her head sideways. “Maybe a little,” she confessed. “So, I asked JoAnn at the beauty shop to tell me all the latest.”

  JoAnn McLean was several years younger, his mother’s hairdresser, and not part of the Merry Geezers, but certainly privy to all things to do with the island because her husband was one of the island’s constables.

  “She said the niece is quite nice looking,” Julia said, peering at Roman over her glasses. “JoAnn described her as looking like my namesake, that actress who’s named Julia Roberts? I would give anything to have that woman’s long legs! Of course, you already know all this...don’t you?” Yet again, his mother looked at him.

  “And her little girl is a real little darling,” Julia went on. “She’s only seen the woman’s son once, but her little girl was a last-minute addition to the Christmas carolers who come around singing every year, and JoAnn knows all of them. She said the little girl knew all of the words to all of the songs and sings like a nightingale.” Julia was in heaven as she related what-all she knew, her face vibrant, and not from the steam coming from the pot of chili.

  On the one hand, Roman was quite interested in the news about the Leitners, but on the other, he could see the wheels turning ninety to nothing in Julia’s head. “Thanks for all the scuttlebutt,” he said with what he hoped was enough complacency to be believable.

  “Just sayin,’” Julia gaily muttered, having picked up that phrase from her grandsons, Patrick and Danny. Profiled standing at the stove, she was smiling at her hipness. Glancing at the clock, she said, “It’s 5:30 already. Let’s have our dinner and then Mona will spend the night with me. We girls need our rest.”

  Roman got up to get Mona’s food from his mother’s pantry. They kept dogfood at both his place and at hers. “You’re not going to the game tonight?” he asked.

  “Not tonight, Dear. It gives you a chance to hang with the boys afterward when I’m not there.”

  Athletic ability ran in the family. In his day, at six-five, Roman could play basketball with the best of them, and his nephews were similarly talented. Patrick was a junior who was six-five, and still had time to put on another inch or two. He played power forward for the high school’s varsity basketball team, the Hawks. Danny, at six-two and just a freshman, played guard for the junior varsity. They had played their most recent games two nights before, and Danny, as a first year player, was smokin’ hot. Both kids had played basketball since they were old enough to walk, and both had a lot going for them in terms of size and determination. Roman had a private hunch that Danny would one day make the pros if his height got him past six-seven and he stayed focused on the game. Roman never missed either of the boys’ games, no matter what.

  He had fractured his ankle during a pick-up game with the boys, right before they started the new school year, coming down hard with a twist of his foot that broke both his right tibia and fibula. The boys knew to ice the injury right away, and Roman was hoping for an easy out. However, the orthopedic surgeon who was the best in the area, and happened to be at the hospital that day, recommended surgery once he saw the x-rays. Roman gave the go-ahead, the bones were plated and screwed, and he walked with crutches and a boot until well after Thanksgiving. He was told that the residual pain and swelling came from ligaments and tendons that were taking longer to repair themsel
ves.

  His mother set the table while Roman washed up, the two of them ready to eat the scrumptious chili that no one else in the family had ever been able to replicate. Julia pulled from the oven a small loaf of sourdough bread and placed butter on the table to go with it. After she sat down, she said, “I know.”

  “Know what?” Roman asked with an appreciative smile. “There’s a whole lot to sift through, Mom, but I know you’ll manage to do it.”

  The compliment was so like Roman, so totally heartfelt. She smiled again, Roman’s own smile lighting up his eyes and giving her the courage to say what was on her mind. She hesitated only briefly.

  “After Erin…died, I’ve feared there would never be someone else for you. It’s been nearly ten years.”

  Roman’s smile was gone, but he tried to be receptive to what Julia was saying because he knew that she loved him and couldn’t stand the idea of him being alone for the rest of his life. “I’ve never said never,” he said. “There’s just not been anyone who could come close.” He still got the fierce ache in his chest, the knot in his throat that altered his speech when Erin’s name was brought up, and his mother knew it.

  “You’re still young.”

  “Almost fifty,” he reminded her.

  “That’s young,” she insisted. “Anyway, I guess I’ll never give up hoping.”

  “Don’t,” he said before taking a first bite. “Hope is a beautiful thing.”

  *****

  The high school’s gymnasium was loud, filled with students, parents, officials of the school, and lots of others whose kids were still too young to play, but who had high hopes, and with those whose kids had no chance to play, but who loved the game. In particular, Friday nights during basketball season were the time of the year when a large percentage of the city’s populace turned out big—just like they did during high school football season.