Chapter Thirty-Three
A soft knock on her door woke Paige. She wasn’t certain how long she’d been out. Wondering if Sterling had come to apologize, she turned the knob and was surprised to find his dad instead.
“My boy was telling me you needed supplies for soap making.”
So Sterling was using his father as a buffer. Fine with her. “Yes, most health food stores carry essential oils, but I also need lye, and it’s tricky to get.”
“Not really.” Mr. Keller’s grin wrinkled his leathered skin. “Jerry’s Hardware’s got it.”
“I doubt it.” Paige hated to correct him, but things had changed. “Two years ago the largest manufacturer of soap-grade lye went out of business. It’s almost impossible to find anymore.”
“Why don’t you prove me wrong with a little ride in my pickup?”
The worst thing that could happen was she’d be in the same predicament she was now. “Whatever you say, Mr. Keller. Give me a minute, and I’ll be right down.”
Paige ran a hand through her hair and looked at the clock. It was after ten. She’d slept for two hours. She thought of going to the store the way she was but wondered if she would run into Misty. No, she’d better get ready properly. After starting the shower, she went to her bag and pulled out her corral jacket.
Twenty minutes later she stepped into the passenger side of the rusty Ford next to Sterling’s waiting dad and peered around. The U-haul was gone, and Sterling and Austin were nowhere to be seen. She doubted she’d be missed and clicked her seatbelt as the diesel roared to life. Before she knew it, she was unclicking it again. They’d only driven three blocks.
Jerry’s Hardware was a square cinderblock building pressed between a lumberyard and gas station. In front of the store a life-sized wooden Indian held a trowel in its hand and was encircled with bags of chicken feed, a kiddie pool filled with plastic shoes, and a wheelbarrow holding flower starts.
Mr. Keller removed his hat, as if in apology. “I’ve got to make a quick run to the lumberyard. Why don’t you go in, and I’ll catch up with you soon?”
Paige opened the glass door plastered with local flyers about lost cats and tractors for sale. Inside, the store was crowded with shelves of merchandise no less eclectic. Wicker picnic baskets were next to welding supplies. A three-foot tall baby doll that had to be at least twenty years old was displayed at eye level in the original box. Paige remembered receiving one for Christmas when she was five.
“Can I help you?” A tall, thin woman with white hair clipped short asked. A tag on her shirt read, “Jerry.”
“I’m looking for lye. I want to make soap.”
“Oh,” she said with a smile. “Let me show you our Soap Corner.”
“No, I don’t want to buy soap.” Paige tried to explain, “I want to buy supplies to make my own.” She had to trot to keep up with the woman who turned down one aisle and up another.
“Here you go.” She held out her hand.
Paige stared. It was everything she could ever want. She touched each small bottle as she read: grape seed extract; Vitamin E, rosemary and apricot oil. On the shelf below were four cans of Red Devil Lye.
“You have it! Oh, my word!” Paige clutched the cans and turned to Jerry. “Is this all you have?”
“I think I’ve got six cases in the back. If you need more, my brother-in-law has a garage full. He went a little crazy when the company went out of business.”
Paige hugged her. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
The bell over the door rang, and Paige ignored it, continuing her perusal of soap additives. To the rear of the top shelf, she came across a yellow powder that looked like saffron. The front label said Narcissus bloom. Jerry was coming back with two large boxes in her arms. Paige called to her, “What is this? I’ve never heard of it before.”
“That’s daffodil powder. I’ve never been brave enough to use it myself, since I heard about the scare at the elementary school down the road. Apparently, one of the cooks thought a daffodil bulb was an onion and made half the children sick.”
Paige turned to the back label. “Here it says that it can help with joints and arthritis, but it does warn that the bulb is toxic. Hmm.”
“Oh,” said Jerry. “You’ll need one of these.” She grabbed a wire with two metal handles on the end that looked like what an assassin would use to strangle people.
“My Cynthia used to use two wooden spoons tied to a guitar string.” Mr. Keller approached them, a huge smile on his face.
Jerry handed Sterling’s dad the boxes. “I might have known she was with you. Mindy told us some pretty young thing had brought your boy back to town. I can’t wait to see him. Has he changed much?”
“Still ornery as ever.” He carried the boxes back the way he had come.
Jerry called after him. “I can’t imagine where he gets it.” Then she leaned over to Paige. “You know, that Sterling was the toast of the entire town. He was captain of the football team and the basketball team. After that little tussle with Darryl, he was even named captain of the baseball team. Triple threat is what he called it, and then he was gone. Without a word.”
“Really?” Paige remembered the glowing name on the ceiling in Linda’s room and wondered what his sister had to do with Sterling’s apparent rival. As they walked back to the register at the front of the store to pay for her purchases, Paige ran back and got the daffodil powder. If nothing else, it would be a pretty color.
The total was far less than she expected. Paige did some mental math and came up to twice the amount Jerry told her. “I think you haven’t charged me enough.”
“Well, I gave you half off on the condition you get Sterling to the Pit Friday night. Most of the town is planning on it. Deal?” She put out her hand.
“I’ll try my best.” Paige shook on it and reached in her purse. Sterling had insisted they take out some cash before leaving Vancouver, so they couldn’t be traced with a credit card. Paige would be happy when the next three days were over, and they could go back to their normal lives.
On the ride home Paige turned to Sterling’s dad. “I’ll never doubt you again.”
He laughed in response. “At least not when it comes to soap. Sterling’s mom loved making it. She wasn’t very good at it, but she loved it just the same.”
Paige gave him a confused look.
“I’m not disrespecting her or anything. See, my Cynthia was a city girl. We fell in love at the rodeo, and I took her home to the farm. She’d never cooked or cleaned in her life before then, but she took to it like a pig to a mud hole, happy as a clam to try every recipe known to man.”
“So you ate well?” Paige asked.
“Not most days. Did you see the pantry behind the kitchen?” he asked. “One year she got into this dill green bean recipe that makes me want to toss my cookies when I think on it. Waste not want not, they say, so I keep ‘em. But, you can bet dollars to donuts they’ll be there till kingdom come.” They pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, but Mr. Keller didn’t turn off the engine.
“You must miss her,” Paige said in the silence.
He nodded. “Yeah, I do, but what I really miss most is how she understood Sterling. She always told me that I only had to give him time, and he’d see the right way. Just give him time.” The last words seemed for her.
Anxious to get home, Sterling floored the gas as he turned off Highway 22. Seconds later a siren whistled through the air. He cursed under his breath while pulling over. If it was Misty, he might be able to talk himself out of a ticket. In his rearview mirror he watched an officer with a grey butch-cut march toward him. His nose looked like it had been broken a dozen time. This must be the new sheriff Misty had mentioned. Sterling lowered his head and tried to look contrite.
The sheriff rocked back and forth on his heels. “Any idea what you were doin’ there? Just ‘cuz you think you’re a hot shot doesn’t mean you own the road, boy. I’m sure you know the drill, license and registration, now.”
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He sounded more like a boot camp drill sergeant than a sheriff. Sterling handed him his information and then realized exactly who he sounded like. “Coach Newell?”
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Sterling Keller. Always knew you’d make it big.” He ran his hand down the side of the car. “I heard you were in town.”
“Yeah, sorry about the speeding thing.” Sterling squinted.
“Don’t mention it.” Coach chucked the license back at him. “You can come home as fast as you want anytime you like. It was garbage how you got booted out in the first place. If it wasn’t for that stupid brother-in-law of yours, we would have been the ultimate triple threat that year.”
Sterling bobbed his head but really didn’t want to talk about it. It was history, and he didn’t have to think about the past anymore. What he wanted to do was get back to Paige and tell her not to worry. If Dotty was telling the truth, when Monday came, he should be able to iron everything out, and if he played his cards right, he could have his cake and eat it, too.
“Ya’ know, you weren’t the best athlete between the two of you.” The coach looked off into the distance as though looking back through the years. “But, you were a winner.”
“Wait.” Sterling’s brows lowered. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, Darryl was a natural talent, but, you, you wouldn’t let anything get in your way once you knew what you wanted.” He punched Sterling in the arm. “Remember when you tackled the other team’s center in basketball? Twisted up his knee so bad he was out for the rest of the season? Totally worth the technical foul. We won. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You’d do anything to get what you wanted.”
Sterling’s arm ached where Coach Newell had punched it. Still, his conscience hurt worse. “That was not one of my better moments.”
“Nah, Darryl was soft. That’s why he lost the dairy. He worked his butt off but hired a couple of milkers who stiffed him. Let it go on too long, worried about their families, he’d say. Then when his distributor contaminated that truckload of milk, it was too much to recover from. You’d have sued and come out better for it, but he said he knew the bastard and couldn’t do it.” Newell shook his head in disgust. “Yup, lost the dairy because he was a wussy.”
“Sounds to me like a run of bad luck,” Sterling said, thinking of his 401K. If he had known, he could have carried them through.
“Don’t you remember what I taught you? We make our own luck. Look at you. It’s what made you a winner.” The sheriff was beaming. “Hey, I still got keys to the high school gym. What do you say we get together tomorrow afternoon and shoot some hoops? I’ve got some moves left, ya’ know.”
“I’m a little busy.” Sterling started up his engine again. In high school, Coach Newell had been his role model. He’d swallowed every word he said as if it were gospel truth. Seeing him now, Sterling wondered if the years had been hard on him.
The coach lifted one eyebrow. “Heard about that cute young filly you brought home. If Misty says she’s a looker, you know she’s a knock out. Now you better be at the Pit Friday, or I will arrest you myself.” He put his hand to his gun.
Sterling raised one hand in the air. “I’ll be there, I swear.” Then he had an idea. “Hey, Coach, do you mind if I borrow those keys?”
“Sure thing.” He chucked them through the window. Sterling barely caught them. “Bring them back to Mike’s Drug at three tomorrow. All the fellas are gonna wanna see you again. Planning on a little hanky-panky behind the bleachers?”
“Something like that.” He pocketed the gym keys and slid the car into gear. “Tomorrow it is.” Sterling peeled out onto the highway, not caring how fast he went. It was time to get home and do what he came here to do.
***