Mal cried. He couldn’t help it.
Later, on his way down the hallway to the exit doors, Mal heard Amari call his name. Wiping the lingering dampness from his eyes, he turned and waited.
When Amari reached him, the boy just eyed him, before saying, “That was a big thing you did.”
“Big screw-ups demand big things.”
“I was so mad at you. At least when Devon was stealing it was for a good reason. Yours didn’t make sense.”
He nodded. “I know, and losing the respect of you, your dad, and everyone else? All the money in the world couldn’t make up for that.” He studied the boy who’d brought nothing but joy into his life. “I hope one day soon you’ll be proud to be my grandson again.”
“I think we’re going to be okay.”
Mal opened his arms. “Can an old man get a hug?”
Amari didn’t hesitate.
As Mal held him close, tears stung his eyes. “Thanks for giving me a second chance.”
Amari looked up. “We’re family. It’s how we Julys roll.”
That evening, Mal had one more tour stop to make. As he rang the doorbell, he thought this one might be the most difficult. When Crystal answered the door, she gave him a puzzled look. “Hey, Mal.”
“Hey, Crys. Can I talk to you for a few minutes?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
He stepped inside and followed her into her nicely furnished living room with its neutral color palette and art-filled walls.
“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the couch.
He sat. “I stopped by because I’m going around apologizing to everybody for being such a dumb ass.”
“’Bout time.”
He hid his smile. She never pulled any punches and he loved her for it. “And I wanted to apologize to you, too.”
She appeared surprised. “Why?”
“For hurting your mom.”
“Ah yeah. Broke her heart and all that.” She studied him for a moment before saying, “Instead of being here, you need to be apologizing to her while kneeling in two inches of broken glass and barbed wire.”
He winced.
She asked, “Have you talked to her?”
He nodded. “Yes. She visited me while I was healing up at Tamar’s.”
“Oh yeah. I heard about the big fight with the lady’s brother.” She peered at his eyes. “You look like you’re better. Zoey said you had two black eyes.”
“I did.”
“I admit, I thought you getting a beatdown was a good thing, but Mom still loves you. Not sure why after what you did, but she does.”
“I still love her too, probably more than before. She makes me better.”
“And you used to make her better. I worry that all that turning the world is going to make her stroke out, but you helped her relax. She needed that, and then your dumb behind tried to kill her anyway. Who does that to someone they’re ’posed to love?”
“I know, Crys.”
“I put her through hell when I ran away. I never thought I’d see her that sad again, but you topped me.”
Shame returned, and he looked away.
She continued, “Because I know how much she cares about you, I’ve been telling her to try and work things out between the two of you, but me? It’s going to be a long time before I stop wanting to cuss at you every time I see you.”
He met her angry eyes.
“I’m being honest. I accept your apology in the spirit it’s given, but that’s as far as I go. When you fix things with Mom, we’ll talk.” She stood. “Thanks for coming by.”
Mal had no other choice but to take his dismissal and leave. On the drive back to his place, he sighed. He’d been right. The final stop on the Apology Tour had been the hardest. He was lucky to have gotten out alive.
Bright and early Saturday morning, he showed up at Marie’s door. “Came to paint.”
She smiled. “So I hear. What color?”
“Green, in honor of Zoey.” It was her favorite color.
“Well, have at it. And remember to take breaks. You’re an old man.”
“I love you, too, Marie.”
He was walking back to the fence when the peanut gallery showed up. Tamar, Trent, Bing, and Genevieve. Whenever the kids had to paint, the adults gathered on Marie’s porch to drink coffee and watch, mostly to make sure the punished kid or kids stayed hydrated and didn’t pass out in the sun or drown themselves by falling into a paint can. In his case, however, they’d come strictly to razz him, and he supposed it was what he deserved. Bernadine wasn’t with them, but there were no secrets in Henry Adams, so he knew she’d heard about his painting. He hoped she approved of his self-chosen penance.
He was opening the cans when Clay drove up. “Morning,” Mal said.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
Mal looked at the nearly mile-long pickets that made up the fence. “Truthfully, I can’t, either, but it’s part of reclaiming my self-respect. You want to help?”
“No.”
“Then go sit in the cheap seats on the porch. They’ve got coffee and doughnuts.”
Reverend Paula drove up, slowed, and yelled from her window, “Awesome decision, Mal!” And drove on.
He smiled. “And that’s why I’m doing this.”
Clay shook his head. “Have fun, then.” He returned to his truck and drove away.
Disappointed with his friend’s attitude, Mal watched the truck disappear, sighed, and pried open a can.
By the end of the first hour the repetitiveness of dragging the brush up and down began taking its toll on his right arm and shoulder, and he didn’t even want to talk about what the prolonged bending at the waist was doing to his back and spine. He couldn’t imagine how the kids did this. They were younger, of course, but this was no joke—especially for an OG like himself.
Trent walked down to join him. “How’s it going?”
Mal wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. “I can’t believe we made you kids do this.”
“And remember I was dumb enough to have to do it twice one summer. After that second time, just the sight of paint made me nauseous.”
Mal looked at the fence and how much more there was to do. “At the rate I’m going, it’ll be spring before I’m through.”
“Or summer.”
Mal shot him a glare. “You got jokes for your old man now?”
Trent smiled and sipped at the coffee in his cup. “I’m just saying. You can invoke the Zoey Rule you know. After three days you can call a friend. I’ll help.” The rule was put in place over the summer by Roni Garland when Zoey’s potty mouth earned her paint time. Her friends wanted to help, but Roni made Zoey paint alone the first three days so the punishment would be taken seriously. For her part, Zoey had helped Devon paint after the mini crime wave that saw him stealing money from Mal and Lily.
Mal didn’t want to admit needing help, even though he did. Having always been one of the watchers from the peanut gallery, he never imagined the job would be this difficult. “I’ll let you know.”
“Don’t let pride put you flat on your back. If you need help, ask for it. You have a school to clean starting Monday, too. Remember?”
Mal sighed.
“But I’m proud of you for taking this on. Real proud.”
“Thanks.”
Trent gave him a pat on the back. “Carry on.” And he headed to the porch.
Ignoring his sore arm and screaming back, Mal went back to work.
At noon, he called it a day. His shoulder was so sore just turning the key in his truck’s ignition made him wince with pain. He knew his muscles would adjust as time went on, but when he got home, all he could do was lie on his bed and moan.
Sunday morning, he skipped church and drove to Marie’s. Raising his arm was difficult but he was determined to push past the discomfort and put in at least a few hours. The first forty-five minutes were a killer, so much so that discouragement set in.
“Hey you. Came to check on my patient.”
He looked up to see Reg getting out of his truck.
“Hey,” Mal said.
“How’s the head and nose?”
Mal shrugged and winced.
“Why is a shrug making you wince?”
“Arm’s sore.”
Reg studied him. “Raise it above your head.”
“I’m fine, Reg.”
“Raise your arm.”
Mal blew out a breath and slowly complied. He tried to mask how much it hurt but apparently didn’t manage to do it well enough.
Reg ordered, “Go home. Get in a hot shower. Take a couple of ibuprofen every four to six hours and don’t come back out here until Tuesday.”
“Reg?” Mal cried.
“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”
Mal rolled his eyes.
Reg said, “We’re all proud of you for doing this, but it’s a big job and you need to pace yourself, especially the first few days. Zoey had a real hard time when she started, so I know this is wearing you out.”
He was right, but it only added to Mal’s sense of frustration and discouragement.
Reg said, “The fence will still be here on Tuesday.”
Mal nodded and said, “Okay.”
“I’ll give you a call this evening to see how you are.”
Mal appreciated Reg looking out for him. “Going home, doc.”
“Good.” Reg left him at the fence and drove off.
Mal put the paint cans and the other supplies in Marie’s garage and went home.
Chapter 16
On Monday morning, Gary dragged himself out of bed and got ready for work. He and Nori had been on the phone together until 2:00 a.m., and he was sure their late-night calls were going to be the death of him. Since the reunion, they’d talked regularly about everything and nothing, from politics, to how the girls were doing, to Nori’s ongoing campaign to keep her dog, T’Challa, from eating her couches. And each call strengthened their connection. In spite of his complaints tied to his lack of sleep, he’d probably be on the phone again with her that evening, but for now he had to stay awake long enough make it through the day.
He’d just finished his first cup of coffee when Leah entered the kitchen. She took one look at his bleary eyes and said, “Either she’s going to have to move to Henry Adams, or we’re going to have to move to Boston. You look whipped.”
“I’ll be okay once I eat something and drink a gallon of coffee.”
She laughed. “How late were you up?”
“I think it might have been two or two thirty.”
“Young love,” she said, placing her hand dramatically over her heart. “Be careful you don’t fall asleep in one of the meat coolers. You’ll wake up singing like Elsa in Frozen.”
“Who’s going to be singing like Elsa?” Tiffany asked, coming in on the tail end of her sister’s comment.
“Dad,” Leah replied. “He’s tired from being on the phone all night. I told him not to fall asleep in the store’s meat cooler.”
Tiffany viewed him. “You do look sleepy, Daddy. Really sleepy. You and Nori need a phone curfew.”
“That might not be a bad idea. I feel like the walking dead.” He needed to wake up, though. Gemma had a dental appointment, so all the store’s morning duties were on him. Fixing himself a bowl of instant oatmeal, he grabbed his toast from the toaster and sat down to eat while the girls did the same. He had something to share with them, though. “I’ll be meeting our lawyer today.”
They looked up.
“I made the appointment Friday, but I kept it to myself because I didn’t want you to spend the weekend worrying about when we’ll go to court, what the outcome might be, and all that.”
Leah said, “I guess it’s okay we didn’t know because we probably would’ve worried.”
Tiffany nodded in agreement. “I know I would’ve. I talked to Amari the other day because I needed to figure some things out.”
Amari? Gary found that surprising.
Apparently, Leah did as well. “You talked to Amari? About what?”
“Just some stuff. It was personal, Lee.”
“And?” Leah asked.
“Do I need to spell the word personal for you?”
“Are you crushing on him, Tiff?”
“None of your business.”
Gary realized his mouth was hanging open. Tiffany and Amari?
“I’m not hating on him,” Leah said gently. “He’s kind, a good person, a great friend, and he’s always had Brain’s back and mine, but—”
Tiff interrupted her. “Can we talk about something else, please? When are we going to court, Dad?”
Gary forced his brain back into gear. “I’m hoping we can get on the docket as quickly as possible. I want this settled once and for all.”
“You don’t think the court will give us to her, do you?” Tiffany asked.
Leah answered: “Not a chance, Tiff. Don’t worry.”
But Gary could see that she was worried. He heard it in her voice too, and that sent him back to wondering what she’d discussed with Amari. He also wondered if Leah was right about Tiff having a crush on Trent’s son. Not that he had anything against Amari. As Leah said, he was a great kid with a great future. Gary just never imagined his youngest hooking up with someone as street-smart as Amari was.
Gary finished his breakfast and put his dishes in the dishwasher. “I’ll let you know what the lawyer had to say when I get home. Have a great day, ladies.” He gave them each a quick kiss and made his exit.
Of course, his first customer interaction of the day involved Mrs. Beadle. She wanted to exchange a sweater, which Gary would’ve had no problem taking care of had the sweater been one she’d purchased from the store.
The employee at the desk, a young college student named Art, had a plastered-on smile when Gary arrived. Gary insisted that the employees always deal with the old lady politely no matter how much of a pain or how crotchety she might be, and Art’s fake smile was a testament to that.
“Good morning, Mrs. Beadle. How are you?”
“I’m doing well, Mr. Clark, but Art here won’t let me exchange this sweater, and I don’t see why not.” Gary picked up the white sweater from where it lay on the counter and made a show of looking it over, patently ignoring the small hole in one of the sleeves. “Mrs. Beadle, the reason is that you didn’t buy the sweater here.”
“How can you tell?”
“By the name of the manufacturer on the label.”
“Oh.”
She looked disappointed, but he wasn’t fooled. “I think you already knew that, though.”
She smiled. “I did. Artie’s new here, so I wanted to see if he’d fall for the old okeydoke.”
Hearing her use the term made Gary smile inwardly.
Art did a tiny eye roll.
Mrs. Beadle gave Gary a grin. “But he passed with flying colors. He was also very polite.”
“That’s good to hear,” Gary said. “I want the staff to be polite no matter what.”
“You’re doing a good job.”
“Can we help you with anything else?” Gary asked, hoping to get her out of their hair.
“No. I’m done here for the day. You can keep the sweater.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Beadle.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Just don’t bring Lorenzo with you.”
“I think you should have a Shop With Your Pet Day. Lorenzo was a bit rambunctious the last time, but he enjoyed himself.”
“The health department would never allow it.”
“Probably not, but a girl can dream. Have a good day, Mr. Clark. Bye, Artie.” She waggled her fingers and walked to the exit.
“I think I deserve a pay raise,” Art cracked.
“Don’t we all.”
Gemma returned from the dentist just before noon, which freed Gary to welcome the lawyer into his office without having to worry about the going
s-on in the store. Her name was Daphne Summers. She was brown-skinned, bald as a member of mythical Wakanda’s Dora Milaje, and at least three inches taller than he. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Summers,” he said as they shook hands.
“Same here,” she replied with a southern accent.
He gestured to one of the chairs. “How was your flight?”
She sat. “Just fine. It’s not often you get to fly in on a private jet, so no complaints at all.”
“Thanks for taking our case.”
“You’re welcome. So now, tell me what’s going on with you and your ex-wife.”
While Gary explained the situation, she took notes on her tablet. She asked questions about his marriage and he told her the truth.
She stopped and eyed him with surprise. “Her father blackmailed you to stay in the marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.” She resumed typing while saying, “I grew up in a small town in Mississippi, and small-town power brokers can be terrifying if you’re the one they’re leaning on. Did she say why she wants to change the agreement?”
“She’s about to be divorced again and doesn’t want to be lonely.”
Daphne cocked her head. “Not because she misses her daughters, or because you’re a questionable parent?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
Then they talked about what he should do when he received the paperwork from her partners, how long the process might take, and what to expect from the judge and the court. She then asked about the girls. “How do they feel about the change in the order?”
“I’d like them to speak for themselves if that’s possible.”
She paused and studied him. “Suggesting I talk to your daughters first gives me some insight into you as a parent.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
“It is. When can I meet them?”
“They’re in school right now.”
“Is there someplace I can treat you all to dinner once they’re out?”
“We have a local diner, but it’s pretty loud there. Would you mind if we ate at home?”