“Oh, I’m sorry, what was it?”
“Is your current zip code 36564?”
“Uh, yes. That’s correct. You have to forgive me. I’m a little distracted. I’m having a little bird problem at the moment.” Sookie sat down, held the phone against her ear, and retied her pink sneaker. She felt a dull pain start up in her right ankle. Oh, no. She knew as soon as she had stepped in that gopher hole, she had twisted something. She just hoped it wasn’t sprained. She needed to put ice on it right away, before it could swell up, and she also had to get the man off the phone, but in a nice way. “Sir, I’m so sorry, but I think I’ve sprained my ankle, so I’m going to have to hang up now.”
“I see … uh … Mrs. Poole, one more thing before you go. Will you be home tomorrow between ten A.M. and twelve P.M.?”
“Pardon me?”
“Will you be at this address tomorrow?”
“Yes, I guess so. I might go to the travel agency later. Why?”
“We are sending a letter to Mrs. Lenore Simmons Krackenberry—and we need to know if you will be home to sign for it.”
It suddenly occurred to Sookie that this was certainly a weird call. Why did this man want to know where she would be tomorrow and at what time? She began to get a little suspicious and wondered if he might be some sex pervert or a burglar. So she quickly said, “Yes, I will be home, and so will my husband, the police chief. May I ask where you are calling from?”
“I’m calling from Texas, ma’am.”
“Texas? Where in Texas?”
“I’m in the Austin area.”
“Austin, Texas?”
“Yes, ma’am. And Mrs. Poole, the letter should arrive at your address tomorrow, sometime between ten and twelve.”
Now Sookie really was baffled. Why would anybody in Texas be sending Lenore a letter? “Is this from the Gem Shopping Network? Are they in Texas? Has she ordered more scatter pins? I hope not. She has over a hundred now.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Is it from Barbara Bush? My mother thinks they have a lot in common, and she’s always writing the poor woman, asking her to come down for a visit. I said, ‘Mother, Barbara Bush is far too busy to come all the way down here, just to go to lunch with you.’ ”
“No, ma’am, it’s not from Mrs. Bush.”
“Oh … well, is it a telephone bill? Has she called somebody and reversed the charges again? If so, I apologize in advance. We have a wonderful nurse watching her, but she must have turned her back for five minutes. Anyway, I’m so sorry, and tell whoever she’s called that we will be happy to pay for it.”
There was a pause, and then the man said, “Mrs. Poole, we have a registered letter we are sending out overnight, and I just need to confirm that someone will be home tomorrow who is authorized to sign for it.”
Sookie’s heart stopped. A registered letter! Oh, no. That always meant something legal. Sookie winced as she asked the dreaded question. “Sir, when you use the term, ‘we,’ are you by chance a law firm?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Poole, but I’m not at liberty to discuss it over the phone.”
Oh, God, it must be something serious, if the man can’t even discuss it over the phone. “Listen … I’m so sorry. What is your name?”
“Harold, ma’am.”
“Listen, Harold, is it about some editorial she’s written? She watches the news and gets herself all riled up, and she’s always spouting off about something. But believe me, if my mother has made any threats against the government or said anything stupid, I can assure you that she’s a perfectly harmless old lady. Well, harmless as far as not being armed or anything. She’s just not quite right, if you know what I mean. It’s a family trait. You just have to know the Simmonses. They are all a little off. She has a brother and sister that are really off. You have no idea how much trouble the woman has caused. She’s almost eighty-nine years old, and she won’t go to assisted living, and she refuses to let us put in a walk-in tub for her, and I worry to death about her falling and breaking a hip.” She sighed. “I’m sorry to be so upset. It’s just that my poor husband and I have just gone through four weddings, and my little birds won’t go around to the front yard. I’m just being overrun by blue jays, and another lawsuit is just not what I need right now. My nerves are all a jangle as it is. Can’t you tell me what it’s about?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not authorized to give out any information over the phone.”
“Oh, please, Harold, don’t drag this out. You don’t know me, but I really could go off the deep end at any moment. It’s the Simmons family curse. It hit Uncle Baby overnight. One day, president of a bank, and the next, off weaving baskets over at Pleasant Hill. And Aunt Lily was perfectly fine and then for no reason, she shot at the paperboy. Thank God, she didn’t hit him or she could be sitting in jail right now, instead of where she is.”
“As I said, Mrs. Poole, you will be receiving the letter in the morning.”
“Oh, Harold, can’t you just open it up and read it to me now? I don’t need to know all the details, just how much she’s being sued for. We just went through our entire retirement account for a down payment for a house for our daughter Le Le and her husband. He’s perfectly nice, but he plays the zither for a living.”
“Oh …”
“Yes … that’s what we said. But she loves him, so what can you do? Anyhow, we are mortgaged up to the hilt. Can’t you at least tell me how much my mother is being sued for, so I can be prepared? I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have the authority to do that. I was instructed to locate the current mailing address and send it on, that’s all. This is not even my department. I’m just filling in.”
“Oh, I see. Well, couldn’t you just take one quick little peek and tell me if it’s over a hundred thousand dollars?”
Then she heard his muffled voice, obviously whispering behind his hand, “Mrs. Poole, the wife and I just married off our daughter, so I know what you’ve been through. Don’t worry, she’s not getting sued.”
“No? Oh, thank God! Oh, bless you, Harold. I don’t know why, but with Mother, I always assume it’s going to be bad news, but then again, it could be good news, right?”
Harold didn’t say anything, so Sookie’s mood suddenly brightened. “Hey, wait a minute. Did she win a contest or something? Are you from Publishers Clearing House? Should I have her over here at the house in the morning, dressed and made-up or anything? I need to know, because she’ll want to have her hair done. Will there be photographs? Or news people?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Oh … well … can you give me just a little hint of what to expect?”
There was a long silence on the other end, then Harold said, “Mrs. Poole, all I can say is … you are not who you think you are,” and then he abruptly hung up.
Sookie sat there with his last words ringing in her ear, and now there was someone banging away on her back door. As Sookie stood up, her ankle throbbed even worse than before, but she hobbled down the hall and opened the door, and there stood Netta in her robe, who looked at her strangely. “Honey, are you all right? I saw you running around the yard like you were in some kind of distress. I tried to call you, but your line was busy. You left one of your shoes out in the yard.” Sookie took the shoe and said, “Oh, thank you, Netta.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Netta. I was just trying something new with feeding the birds, and this man just called about some registered letter for Lenore and I think I’ve sprained my ankle. Come on in.”
“No, I can’t, I’m still in my robe. I better get back home, but call me if you need me.”
A FEW SECONDS AFTER Netta left, Sookie went and looked out in the front yard to check on her birds and, to her dismay, saw that her entire yard was now a veritable sea of blue. It looked like she was running a blue jay reserve. She’d been so distracted by the phone call that she didn’t know if the little birds had gotte
n anything to eat at all. Oh, drat. She would just have to try again tomorrow.
She hobbled back into the kitchen and put some ice cubes in a hand towel and wrapped it around her ankle. As she sat there with Peek-a-Boo in her lap, she thought more about the phone call and what the man had said. “You are not who you think you are.” Then it suddenly dawned on her. That man had probably been calling from the Jehovah’s Witnesses or some other religious group. They were always leaving pamphlets at her door asking, “Do you know who you are?” or “Do you know who your father is?” Oh, Lord. Now she felt like a fool. What a complete idiot she had been, telling him all that personal stuff about the family.
But on the other hand, knowing her mother, he could be calling from ancestor.com or some other genealogy-tracing company. She’d also seen ads for them that said, “Who are you?” or “Who do you think you are?”
The more she thought about it, she thought that it must be Lenore trying to trace the Simmons family line again. “I just know we’re related to the royal family in some way. I just feel it in my bones,” she said. For as long as Sookie could remember, she had been tracing and retracing, but so far, no connection. Now even Dee Dee was obsessed with it and had the Simmons family crest hanging over the mantel in her condo.
AS THE MORNING WORE on, Sookie tried to relax and just forget about the call, but she was still feeling a little uneasy. It was the word “registered” that bothered her. She hated to call Earle at work but she dialed the number anyway, and his receptionist answered. “Dr. Poole’s office, may I help you?”
“Hi, Sherry, it’s me. Could you get him to pick up? I need to ask him a quick question.”
“Sure, hold on. I’ll buzz him. How’s your mother?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“Well, good. Hold on.”
A few seconds later, Earle picked up. “Hi, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just need to ask you something.”
“Honey, I’m right in the middle of a root canal.”
“Okay, I’ll make it fast. A man from Texas just called and said he was sending Lenore a registered letter tomorrow. Should I be worried? He said he wasn’t a lawyer.”
“Well, then, no.”
“What do you think it’s about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s probably just some come-on, trying to sell something or get her to join something.”
“Then I shouldn’t worry?”
“No, just forget about it.”
“But it’s registered.”
“Well, honey. Just don’t sign for it.”
“Isn’t that against the law?”
“No. Just tell Pete you don’t want it. That’s all. Sweetie pie, I’ve really got to go. I’ll see you at home, okay?”
“Earle, maybe … I just won’t go to the door.”
“Fine.”
“But won’t he leave a note and try and redeliver it?”
“Honey, do whatever you want. Don’t go to the door or just sign for it and throw it away. It’s probably just junk. Okay?”
“Then I shouldn’t worry?”
“No.”
“And I don’t have to accept it.”
“No. Forget about it. I gotta go. Love you.”
Sookie hung up and smiled. Earle always knew how to make her feel better. Even her ankle felt better.
WEDNESDAY
JUNE 8, 2005
SOOKIE WOKE UP AND PLANNED HER DAY. SHE DECIDED THAT THIS morning she would try a slight variation on yesterday’s bird plan and put sunflower seeds into every other feeder. She hoped the little birds would figure it out and eat a little while the blue jays were still at the sunflower seeds. Then after she fed the birds, she was going downtown to the travel agency and check out trips and cruises. A second honeymoon—what fun! Her brother, Buck, and his wife were always going on cruises, so yesterday afternoon she had called Bunny in North Carolina and asked her advice. Bunny said that Prague was “the new Paris,” but Sookie hadn’t seen the old Paris, yet. She hadn’t really been anywhere, except to college and to the store and back, so anywhere Earle wanted to go would be fine with her.
At 8:10, Sookie had filled all the feeders and was out in the backyard in the pink tennis shoes, hiding behind a tree with her binoculars, when suddenly someone walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She nearly jumped five feet in the air. It was Pete, the mailman. “Oh, my God, Pete,” she said. “You nearly scared me to death!”
Pete, a tall skinny man in gray shorts, said, “I’m sorry. I knocked on the front door, but you didn’t answer.” He then reached into his bag and said, “I have a certified letter for you, but first I have to ask you, ‘Are you Mrs. Earle Poole, Jr.?’ ”
Sookie sighed. Pete had only been her mailman for the past thirty years. “No, Pete, I’m the queen of Romania. Of course, it’s me. You know who I am.”
Pete took his job very seriously. “Oh, I know who you are, but it’s an official letter, and I have to ask. Do you have power of attorney to sign for Mrs. Krackenberry?”
“Yes. What I want to know,” Sookie said, “is why you are here so early? Don’t you usually start your deliveries on the other side of the pier?”
“Yes, but I thought the letter might be important, so I came here first. I just need for you to sign right here on this line.”
“Oh, Pete, I’m sorry you came all this way, but I don’t want to sign for it.”
He was completely taken aback. “But … it’s a registered letter.”
“I know, but Earle said I didn’t have to sign for it, if I don’t want to.”
“Oh … well … huh … I’ve never had this happen before … so I guess I’ll just write out a first attempt slip and try again tomorrow, then.”
“But I won’t want it tomorrow, either.”
“Well, officially, I’m required to make three attempts to deliver it.”
“Pete, I don’t want it. I don’t even know who it’s from.”
“Huh … well, that’s up to you. But it does seem a shame—somebody sure went to a lot of trouble and expense to make sure you got it. And it could be important.… It looks like it’s some kind of medical records.”
“Pete! I really don’t want to know. Right now, I’m busy trying to plan a vacation. Did you know that Earle and I have not been anywhere alone since 1970? And what makes you think it’s medical records?”
“It’s from the Texas Board of Health, so I just figured it had something to do with health information.”
“Texas Board of Health? How weird. What could they want?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking at the large envelope. “Did someone ever get sick in Texas or hospitalized for anything there?”
“No. I was born in Texas … but …”
“Well, there you go. Maybe it’s an outstanding hospital bill or something.”
“Oh, I can’t imagine it could be a bill at this late date. You knew Daddy. He always paid his bills.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Maybe it’s a refund.”
“Fifty-nine years later? I don’t think so.”
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t want it, I’ll just leave you the attempted delivery slip on the door and go on then.”
“Okay, thank you, Pete. Sorry.”
As soon as Pete walked away, Sookie looked out in the backyard. Once again, it was full of blue jays. Not one little bird to be seen. Her plan was clearly a failure—not only a failure, but she might have made things worse. She wouldn’t blame the little birds if they all just packed up and never came back. And it was so sad, because they were her favorites, and they didn’t even know it.
LATER, AS SHE SAT in the tub, she tried her best to forget about the letter, but it was still on her mind. It wouldn’t have been so hard if Pete hadn’t waved it around in her face and hadn’t blurted out who it was from. It was so irritating. All she had wanted to do today was relax and not have to think about any more problems. She knew the letter had something to do wi
th her mother, but what? She couldn’t imagine. Had Lenore been sick or hospitalized when she was living in Texas? She had never said anything. Was there something her mother didn’t want her to know? Everyone always said how young and beautiful she looked for her age. Maybe she had had a major face-lift in Texas. Or she could have hit somebody and put them in the hospital. Lenore was a terrible driver, and she had run into almost everybody in Point Clear at one time or another. Or maybe she had had some sort of mental break, like Aunt Lily, and been committed at some point. Could Lenore have been in a mental hospital? Oh, dear.
By the time Sookie had dressed and put on her makeup, her imagination had completely run away with her. The next thing she knew, she was downtown at the post office with the pink slip and had picked up the letter and was on the way home with it. She never did make it to the bookstore or the travel agency. She stared at the envelope it on the seat next to her all the way home. Sure enough, it had TEXAS BOARD OF HEALTH written across it, and stamped in big black bold letters across the front was PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL MATERIAL ENCLOSED.
At 5:15 that afternoon, Earle walked in the house. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m home.”
“Hi, honey,” she said, not giving him a chance to sit down. “Earle, I know you think I’m silly, but I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day. Would you sit with me while I open this letter?”
“What letter?”
“The registered letter.”
“Oh. I thought you weren’t going to sign for it.”
“Well … I tried not to … but anyhow … I wanted you to be here.”
He smiled at her. “Okay, sweetie. Let me fix a drink, and I’ll be right there.”
Sookie sat down on the sofa in the sunroom and waited until he came back in and sat down across from her. “Okay, open her up, and let’s see what we got.”
Sookie took a deep breath and opened it and read the cover letter.
Attention: Mrs. Lenore Simmons Krackenberry
c/o Mrs. Earle Poole, Jr.
526 Bay Street
Point Clear, AL 36564