Two hours later, the girl was sitting alone, looking at a piece of paper with a name and address on it. The address was in a part of town she had never been, and the room was in the back of a discount luggage store. When the girl knocked on the door, a little fat man opened it to see a pretty young blonde standing there, shaking with fear over what was about to happen. She looked very much like the last girl that Sardino guy had sent.
That night around seven-thirty, Hershie Abrams was sweating. He’d been working hard for the last couple of hours. He finally dialed Sardino’s number and whispered in the phone, “It’s me….She didn’t make it.”
“What?”
“She’s dead. I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t stop it—”
“Who’s dead? Who are you talking about?”
“The girl…the girl you sent. She bled out. You’ve gotta come over and get her out of here.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I didn’t send you any girl.”
“The blond girl. She said you sent her.”
“I don’t know any blond girl.”
Now sweat was pouring down Abrams’s face. “You’ve gotta help me. The girl is dead.”
“Like I said, I don’t know any girl.”
“What am I gonna do?”
“I don’t know, Hershie. I guess you could always call the police,” he said. And then he hung up.
Hershie was stunned. He had dealt with a lot of cold-hearted bastards in his day, but this one was scary. Sardino had turned on him in a matter of seconds.
Anthony Sardino was sure there was no way he would be implicated in it, but he decided it was best if he moved on anyway. Stupid women. He decided not to fool with them anymore, unless it could do him some good.
1967
Anthony Patrick Sardino, who now called himself Michael James Vincent, was half Irish, half Italian, and 100 percent son of a bitch. But he was handsome, and he had charm and drive. He was now living in Boston and working at an advertising firm there.
He’d studied preppy boys—how they walked, how they dressed. It wasn’t so hard. He knew how to work people. And today he had wangled his way into a fraternity party where he had a friend. He liked college girls. He was standing looking around the room when he spotted her. He turned to someone and asked who the deaf girl was. The boy glanced over. “Oh, that’s the Swensen girl. Her father owns a huge dairy farm somewhere in the Midwest. Missouri, I think.”
He knew a little about cows. His father and uncles had worked in the Chicago stockyards. It was a dirty, smelly, filthy job that he would never do. But he wouldn’t mind owning a nice, big, clean dairy farm. He looked again. The girl was not bad looking at all. Kind of pretty really, in a wide-eyed innocent sort of way. So what if she was deaf? It might be nice to be married to a woman who didn’t talk. He nodded and smiled at her from across the room. He could see she was shy. She had even blushed. No, the girl was not bad looking at all. He put down his beer and walked over to her.
Up at Still Meadows, everyone was in a good mood. Spring was always a favorite time of year. First came Easter, which meant lots of visitors, and usually by noon, the entire hill was filled with baskets of Easter lilies.
Now it was Mother’s Day. And even if you weren’t a mother, everybody there had a mother, and they were thinking about her today. Ted Nordstrom was able to wish his mother Happy Mother’s Day in person.
Katrina said, “I’m so happy to have my son with me. This is the best Mother’s Day I could have wished for.”
That morning, Macky and Norma drove over and picked up Aunt Elner to take her to the cemetery. Aunt Elner had brought roses for her mother as she had for the past sixty-something years. Macky and Norma both brought roses for their mothers, as well.
That night, the fragrance of roses covered the entire hill. Before she went to sleep, Ida said, “Isn’t it nice to be remembered?”
“Oh, yes,” answered Katrina. “And you were so lucky to have such a sweet daughter.”
Ida smiled. “Yes, she was always a sweet girl. Nervous, but sweet.”
—
AT TOT WHOOTEN’S HOUSE, Mother’s Day had come and gone without much notice. It had never been a particularly happy day for her. Tot’s daughter, Darlene, had worked in the beauty shop with Tot for a while, until she’d dyed the preacher’s wife’s hair bright orange. Darlene couldn’t read a label if it killed her. And then she left a lit cigarette on the shelf with the end papers and set fire to the back room. She was a liability, and Tot’d had to let her go. And then Darlene had the nerve to demand a month’s severance pay. From her own mother.
Neither Darlene nor her brother, Dwayne Jr., finished high school. It had been so discouraging when Tot would see cars with bumper stickers that read MY CHILD IS AN HONOR STUDENT AT ELMWOOD HIGH. Her children had been mostly high at Elmwood High. But she guessed it was to be expected. She and their father had not set good examples for them. Looking back now (too late), she would have left James much earlier and not subjected them to seeing all those terrible fights. And she really shouldn’t have broken the phone over James’s head. The doctor said that if he hadn’t been so drunk, it would have killed him. But then there were a lot of things she would have done differently.
First of all, she wouldn’t have been born who she was and where she was. She had just read an article claiming that you picked out the parents you needed, to learn what life lessons you had to learn in this life, but she didn’t believe it for a minute. If that were true, who in their right mind would pick a drunk father and an insane mother? Her father had been so drunk at her wedding he’d passed out in the vestibule, and she’d had to walk down the aisle by herself, and when the minister asked, “Who giveth this woman?” nobody answered. Her mother had gone around the bend a few years after that. Early dementia, they said, but Tot figured she’d just checked out on purpose, and who could blame her? But still, it was no fun to have to take care of her, a poor old lady who kept wandering off.
The last time it happened, they’d been at the mall. Tot had turned her back for five seconds, and her mother had disappeared into thin air. When she told Grady, the security guard, she had lost her mother, he had said, “Oh, Tot, I’m so sorry, when did she die?” She had to tell him that she wasn’t dead—she had really lost her mother somewhere in the mall. Two hours later, and after a long search, she finally showed up. She had wandered into the movie theater, taken a seat, and watched the movie to the end.
After that, Tot put a tag on her that read, “If found, please return to Mrs. Tot Whooten at the beauty shop.”
Poor Tot was part of the sandwich generation, long before it had been named that. She had been caught between her kids and her mother. She knew people felt sorry for her, and she also knew a lot of her customers were loyal because of it. She didn’t want to be a victim, but she needed the money. Between caring for her mother and the kids, she had never been able to save a dime. At night, when everyone was asleep, she sat in the living room in the dark, smoked cigarettes, and dreamed of being single and childless.
After Ida Jenkins passed away, the Garden Club sort of disbanded, which was not good news for Still Meadows. For a while, Norma and her friends volunteered one day a month to do cleanup, but, eventually, a lot of people moved away or dropped out, and people wound up just tending their own families’ graves.
When the local bank closed down, Arvis Oberg, who owned the Rest Assured Funeral Home, had been put in charge of the Still Meadows corporation account, and after twelve years, was tired of fooling with it. It was a lot of paperwork, and most of his customers were now going to the new cemetery. He talked it over with his wife, and they decided to just sell off the remaining plots and be done with it.
When Cathy Calvert came into the newspaper office the next morning, she read the ad Arvis wanted to run in the Friday edition.
WHERE WILL YOU SPEND ETERNITY?
Wondering what to get Dad on Father’s Day?
Mom on her spec
ial day?
Stuck with what to buy the spouse for that anniversary?
Diamonds are forever, but a burial plot is for eternity.
Last call for the cemetery plots at Still Meadows.
Hurry…Hurry…Hurry…only 54 left!
This week only, we are offering a his-and-hers two-for-one sale.
Call or stop by Rest Assured Funeral Home today!
Cathy did not agree with Arvis’s assumption that a cemetery plot would make a good gift, but Arvis was one of her regular advertisers, so what could she do?
Norma and Macky were coming up on their twenty-fourth wedding anniversary, and Macky was so hard to buy a present for. Most women got something for their husbands at the hardware store, but when your husband owns it, it’s a problem. So she wound up buying him a pair of pajamas with fishing lures on them from Sears.
Macky had a similar problem. He never knew what to get Norma, and the date was getting closer and closer, so when he saw the ad in the paper about the cemetery plots on sale out at Still Meadows, it was like an answer to his prayers. He ran over early the next day and was glad he did. He got the last “two-for-one plots” left. Arvis said there had been a run on plots all morning. He said since the minute he opened his office door, plots had been selling like hotcakes.
Norma was still in her housecoat when Aunt Elner called. “Happy anniversary,” she said.
“Oh, thank you, Aunt Elner.”
“What are you two lovebirds doing to celebrate? Are you going out to eat?”
Norma sighed. “I suppose so.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. He said he was going to surprise me.”
“What’s the matter, honey? You don’t sound happy.”
“Well…I guess I’m not. You won’t believe what Macky gave me for our anniversary.”
“What?”
“Are you sitting down? A his-and-hers burial plot out at Still Meadows. I said, ‘Macky, a burial plot is not exactly romantic.’ ”
“Awww, I think it was real thoughtful of him.”
“Maybe so, but I would rather have had something I can use now. What fun is a burial plot? I won’t even be alive to enjoy it.”
Aunt Elner laughed.
“You can laugh, but I don’t think there is a thing funny about death.”
“Oh, honey, you mustn’t lose your sense of humor. Death is just a part of life.”
“It’s a serious and horrible part of life, and I hate it.”
“Yes, it’s serious. Losing our loved ones is the hardest thing we humans will ever have to go through. I think that’s why the good Lord gave us a sense of humor. Because if we didn’t have that, we would surely all die of grief, don’t you think?”
“Well, maybe, but…I can’t help it. Just thinking about it gives me the willies.”
“Well, sweetheart, we’re all gonna die one day.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to. And I don’t want to have to think about me or Macky dying, especially on my anniversary.”
“Very few people do, but, nevertheless, it’s gonna happen, and as for me, I’m ready to go whenever He sees fit.”
“Aunt Elner…I swear. If you die, after what I went through losing Mother and Daddy, I’ll never forgive you. I’ll even have Tot Whooten do your hair.”
Aunt Elner laughed. “Ohhh, then I’d better hang on. I don’t want to wind up looking like Ida.” Norma had to laugh in spite of herself.
“Oh, my God, Aunt Elner, will you ever forget how Tot fixed Mother’s hair—all poufed up on one side?”
“It’s a good thing Ida was dead or else she would have killed both of us.”
“Poor Tot. And she thought Mother looked so pretty, too. All through the viewing, I was just horrified. The look on people’s faces…”
“I know. I was there. But bless her heart. Tot has good points. Unfortunately, doing hair is not one of them.”
Norma then screamed with laughter.
“Well, you know it’s true.”
“Oh, God…let’s just pray she retires before we die, or we’ll wind up with a pouf.”
After she hung up, Norma wiped her eyes with a napkin, and she did feel better. Aunt Elner was right. Macky buying her a burial plot for her anniversary was sweet, and the more she thought about it…well, it was pretty funny. Some women get rubies and pearls. She got a plot.
1975
It was twelve noon, the day after Easter, when everyone heard the siren go off. A few minutes later, the clear blue April sky suddenly turned an ugly, sick-looking dark green, and the wind picked up and began whipping around in circles. Merle Wheeler saw the gray spinning cone first and yelled, “Tornado!” Soon they all heard the loud roar as it got closer, twisting and twirling right through town, spewing roof shingles, chicken coops, and lawn chairs in the air, then passed right overhead, taking baskets of Easter lilies and broken parts of the old wooden archway up at the cemetery along with it. An eerie silence followed, then came the sound of fire trucks and news helicopters.
Everybody up at Still Meadows waited, worrying about their friends and family members in town. By the horrible sound of it, they were sure that many people would be coming up in a few days, due to the tornado. Will Shimfissle was especially concerned about his wife, Elner. “God, I hope she reached the cellar.” Thankfully, her neighbor Verbena had warned her in time, and she had made it to her cellar along with her cat and a baby squirrel she had in a shoebox.
—
AFTER A FEW WEEKS, when not one person came in, they were all relieved. Gene said, “I guess nobody was killed. That’s good.”
He was right. But the tornado had taken down the old wooden water tower and had completely leveled the entire Elmwood Estates Trailer Park. There was nothing left of it now but a vacant lot full of broken and scattered butane tanks and thirty-four cement slabs where mobile homes had once stood.
Many people in town immediately volunteered to take in families rendered homeless by the event. A kind and generous neighborly gesture to be sure, but everyone who signed up made one stipulation. “We will be happy to do it, as long as it isn’t the Griggs family.”
The parents were one thing, but it was the son they were really leery about. Eleven-year-old Luther Griggs was a hellion on his way to being a fully fledged juvenile delinquent. He had tried to burn the school down twice.
By the following week, all of the families had temporary homes. But only one displaced family remained. Luther’s parents decided to go back to West Virginia, but they thought it was best to leave Luther behind to finish out the school year.
“I ain’t gonna live with some old lady,” he said as he was being dragged up Elner Shimfissle’s front stairs with a paper bag of donated clothes. A frustrated Merle Wheeler, who was in charge of the Placement Committee, said, “Well, Luther, that’s too bad, but she’s the only one who will take you, so shut up.”
Elner was at the front door to greet him. “Well, hey, little Luther. Come on in and welcome.”
Luther did not move, so Merle pushed him through the door and said, “Good luck, Elner,” and left in a hurry.
Once inside the house, Luther glared at her. “I ain’t gonna stay.”
“Well, that’s fine, honey. But before you take off, let me fix you a little something to eat and maybe wash those clothes for you.”
“Well…but I ain’t gonna stay. And you can’t make me.”
“I’m sure not.”
He looked around. “This is a stupid old house anyway…and you’re old and ugly.” After he said it, he flinched, waiting to be hit, but Elner just agreed with him.
“Yeah, it is pretty stupid. And I am pretty ugly at that,” she said, looking in the mirror. “Oh, well. Come on, let me show you what I’ve got in the kitchen. I’ve got bacon, hot biscuits, and honey…and do you like strawberry ice cream? We can have some of that before you leave, if you want.”
He stood there and then, after a moment, followed her to the back of the ho
use.
When Norma heard that Elner had taken in Luther Griggs, she called Elner, almost hysterical. “Oh, my God, Aunt Elner. Why did you let Merle Wheeler talk you into doing such a stupid thing? You should have called me first.”
Elner knew Norma and so she had been expecting the call. She said, “I know, but Norma, somebody had to take him in. Besides, it’s just for a little while.”
“Well, don’t be surprised if he burns your house down…or murders you in your bed.” Norma put the phone down and was still upset. “Good Lord.” She was worried enough as it was, with Linda being off at that big college so far away from home, and now this. How could she possibly relax? Her Aunt Elner was in danger of life and limb.
The next day, Mayor Smith came over to Elner’s house carrying a box. He said, “Elner, I found this old box of Bobby’s things in the closet and thought maybe Luther might get some use out of it.”
After Robert left, Luther looked inside the box in the living room and quickly grabbed the metal toy car that had once belonged to Gene Nordstrom, ran to his room with it, and locked the door. It turned out the boy loved anything with wheels.
Four weeks later, when the school year was almost up, Elner and Luther were having breakfast, and Elner said, “I know you must be missing your parents something awful about right now.”
He looked up at her between bites of buttermilk pancakes dripping with maple syrup. “No, I’m not.”
“Aren’t you getting anxious to see them again, honey?”
“Nope. They didn’t never care a thing in the world about me. I’d just as soon stay with you.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure that’s not true.”