The Mill River Redemption Page 8

  “I never knew my father,” Josie said. “Mom didn’t like to talk about him much. He left us when I was three months old. I think that’s when she really started drinking heavily.”

  “Have you ever thought about trying to find him?” Ivy asked.

  “Mom got a letter from him in 1962, when I was six. He was in Vietnam, and he wrote to apologize for abandoning us and promised to make things right once he was back home. He didn’t make it, though.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ivy said.

  “That’s all right. I never knew him, so I never felt as if I lost anything, not like Mom did.”

  “You lost a helluva lot,” Ivy said. “No father, no functional mother. It’s a wonder you’ve survived.”

  “Sol Berman was a godsend,” Josie said. “I’m still thankful that he hired me away from Macy’s. He was probably the only reason I held it together through the worst of it with Mom. There were so many times I was a total wreck when I showed up at the shop. He used to listen when I needed someone to talk to. He always joked that he was so understanding only because I was the best salesperson he ever had and he couldn’t afford to lose me, but I knew it was more than that. Sol was just one of those rare people who are good and kind all the way through.”

  “So you worked for him for a long while, then, even after Abby died?”

  “Yes, right up until I had Rose. I never did go back to school. I meant to, but before Mom died, it was impossible. After that, I needed some time to get myself together, and then I met Tony. Before I knew it, we were married and I was pregnant, so I quit. Sol actually gave me away at my wedding, since I didn’t have anyone else to do it, and he passed away suddenly when Rose was about eighteen months old. I miss him.”

  “I wish I could’ve met him and Tony, and come to your wedding,” Ivy said.

  “Why didn’t you? I sent you an invitation.”

  “I know. I didn’t get it until a month after, and when it finally showed up here, it was all mangled. The post office really screwed it up. I felt bad and almost called you, but it was so awkward. It was easier not to call than to offer an excuse a month after the fact.”

  Josie smiled. “Our wedding was small, anyway. You didn’t miss much.”

  Ivy was quiet a moment. She chewed a mouthful of pancakes and stared thoughtfully at Josie. “You know, going back to your job situation … you’ve actually got some decent experience.”

  “Sol taught me a lot about diamonds and gems,” Josie said, unsure of where Ivy was taking the conversation. “There might be some jewelry stores in Rutland, but—”

  “No, no,” Ivy said. “There’s no jewelry store job around here. What I’m thinking about is your sales experience. Sol said you were the best salesperson he ever had? What made him think that?”

  “Well,” Josie said slowly, “he said I had a knack for being able to see whether a buyer was serious and what style suited him. I almost always sold a big engagement ring each shift. Sometimes more than one.” Josie looked down at her left hand and lightly traced the wedding band that she still wore. “Tony and I used my commissions to make the last payments on the car and set up a nursery for Rose. We saved what was left for a down payment on a house.”

  “I think that’s exactly what you need to focus on now.” Confused, Josie looked across the table at her aunt.

  “Houses, I mean,” Ivy said. “You’ve proven you can sell. But, the only things that cost as much as diamonds around here are houses. It wouldn’t be too hard for you to get your real estate license. You’d probably make enough for you and the girls to live on by selling a few houses a year. Plus, your work hours would be flexible.”

  Josie sat up a little straighter in her chair and then shook her head.

  “I don’t think I could risk it. Putting myself out there so publicly, I mean. It would make it so easy for someone to find me and the girls.”

  “Are you still worrying about that?” Ivy asked. Her aunt rolled her eyes. “You’ve been here almost two years now with no scent of trouble. When are you going to realize that nobody’s gonna bother you up here?”

  Josie sighed. “Even if you’re right, is real estate selling these days?” she asked. “My guess is that real estate agents struggle around here. Houses are small, and interest rates are high.”

  “Most everybody around here struggles to earn a living, not just real estate agents,” Ivy said. “But, don’t forget that people always need places to live, whatever the interest rates. And sure, Mill River is full of cute little houses, but the sale of a small house is still a sale. There are plenty of bigger properties outside town—vacation homes of rich people from Boston and New York City, and a whole slew of resorts and condos up near Killington. For someone who knows how to sell, I’d say you would do well to get into real estate around here.” Ivy glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and jumped out of her chair. “Lordy, it’s nine o’clock! I’ve got to go open up.” She started to clear her place at the table, but Josie waved her off.

  “Go on, I’ll clean up,” Josie said as she reached over and lifted Ivy’s plate onto her own.

  “Thanks, honey,” Ivy said. She pushed open the door that led to the sitting room. “But make sure you think about the real estate thing. I’ve just got a good feeling about it.”

  It took Josie only a few minutes to do the breakfast dishes and tidy up Ivy’s kitchen. She was headed back to her own home when Larry Endicott reached her block on his daily route.

  “Hello, Miss Josie. You’ve got good timing.” With a smile, he held out the day’s mail to her.

  “Thanks, Larry,” she said. He tipped his hat and continued down the sidewalk. When she looked down at the envelopes in her hand, her breath caught in her throat. The letter on top was from the FBI.

  Her heart racing, Josie glanced around and ran inside. Her hands were trembling so badly that she had trouble opening the envelope. Finally, she succeeded in removing the letter inside. Josie read it through once, started to sob, and reread it twice more. As she reached the end of the letter the third time, she leaned back against her front door and then slid down to the floor. Relief, grief, love, anger, hope, and relief again ripped through her. She wrapped her hands tightly around herself and waited for the storm to subside.

  When she had calmed down and rational thought had returned to her, Josie shoved the letter into her purse and ran back to The Bookstop to borrow a road map from Ivy. A glance at her watch told her that she had two and a half hours before she was due to pick up Emily from nursery school.

  She got back into her car and unfolded the map to display all of Rutland County. It was strange—she’d been in Mill River almost two years now, and this was the first time she had looked carefully at a map of the surrounding area. Killington, Proctor, Pittsford, Hubbardton, Castleton, Ira, Tinmouth, Clarendon … her eyes swept in a counterclockwise circle, stopping to read the name of each town surrounding the small black dot labeled MILL RIVER. She looked at the map eagerly, with an open mind. The letter from New York had changed everything.

  Josie laid the map on the passenger’s seat, shifted her car into reverse, and backed out of her driveway. Her aunt was right. Of course she had the potential to do well in real estate. Before, she specialized in finding the right setting and owner, essentially the right home, for a diamond. Now, she would learn how to find the right homes for people. The commonality between them, and her true talent, was her ability to find what belonged. Josie smiled, feeling the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind.

  To be successful, she would need to know the area as well as the locals. She would need to familiarize herself with the towns and communities, the neighborhoods and school districts. It would take time and effort, but Josie was willing to commit both. Her girls’ future, and her own, depended on it.

  A FEW WEEKS LATER, JOSIE SAT AT HER KITCHEN TABLE WITH A YELLOW highlighter in her hand. A large pot of pasta sauce and meatballs simmered on the back burner of her stove. The girls were upstairs playi
ng, and the chattering and occasional giggling that drifted downstairs assured her that they weren’t getting into too much trouble.

  The table was covered with study materials for Vermont’s real estate pre-licensing course in which she had enrolled. Forty hours of instruction were required, which she would complete on the mornings when both girls were in school. After she finished the course, she would have to pass the national and state real estate exams. And finally, she would have to find a real estate brokerage willing to take her on as a trainee.

  The sound of the doorbell interrupted her train of thought, and she hurried to the door to find Ivy on the front stoop. She had a large typewriter in her arms.

  “Here, let me help,” Josie said, but her aunt had already pushed her way inside.

  “I’ve got it,” Ivy huffed. “Just let me know where to put it.”

  “The storage room,” Josie said. She ran ahead of her aunt and opened a door off the living room. “There’s an old card table in here.”

  “Whew!” Ivy said after she set the typewriter down on the table. “I forgot how clunky this thing is. It’s been up in my attic for years.”

  “Does it still work?” Josie asked. The typewriter was an old IBM electric model. The greenish-gray finish was chipped and worn along the edges, but the keys looked to be in good shape.

  “Oh, sure. It’s sort of a dinosaur, though,” Ivy said. “I’ve read about the new models they have in offices these days. ‘Word processors’ they call ’em. They’ve got a little screen where you can edit what you type before you print it.”

  “I don’t need anything that fancy,” Josie said. “This’ll be great. I’ve been working on a cover letter and a résumé to send out to some agencies. Now I’ll be able to get them in the mail on Monday.”

  “The sooner, the better,” Ivy agreed. She turned toward the kitchen and sniffed. “It sure does smell good in here. You make Italian food better than any restaurant I ever ate in.”

  Josie had just followed Ivy back to the kitchen when Rose and Emily thumped down the stairs. The little girls burst into the kitchen wearing a variety of items from their dress-up collection.

  “Hi, Aunt Ivy! Mom, we’re hungry,” Rose said, as Emily trailed behind her, grinning.

  Josie took one look at Rose wearing a feather boa, a shimmery blue dress, and a pair of enormous round sunglasses and burst out laughing. Emily’s appearance was just as comical. She wore a silk scarf tied over her hair and a pair of too-big overalls. An eye patch was wrapped around her face, but it covered her nose instead of one eye, and a fake mustache was stuck crookedly on her upper lip.

  “You girls look like you’ve been having fun,” Ivy said.

  “Yeah. I’m a movie star,” Rose said, flipping the boa and grinning up at Ivy as the sunglasses slid down her nose.

  “And I’m a pirate!” Emily yelled happily.

  “Wait,” Josie said, squinting at Emily’s face. “I don’t remember there being any mustaches in your dress-up box. Come here, Em.” Josie reached out, pulled her younger daughter closer, and put one hand under Emily’s chin to lift it up. The “mustache” Emily wore was a cluster of red hair that was somehow glued onto her face.

  “How did you—” Josie started to ask, but Emily’s wide eyes immediately prompted her to question Rose. “Rosie, did you cut your sister’s hair? And what is this on her face?” Josie grabbed Emily’s mustache and tugged. The whole cluster and the clear rubbery blob underneath it stuck to Emily’s skin as she tried to peel it away.

  “Ow, don’t,” Emily protested. “That’s my mustache, Mom.”

  “I just cut a little of her hair with my paper-doll scissors,” Rose said. “And we used rubber cement to put it on, like we use in school for art. Pirates always have mustaches and beards, Mom.” Rose’s face lit up. “I was going to make her a whole long beard, too, but we got too hungry and decided to come downstairs. Are we going to eat soon?”

  For a minute, Josie was speechless. She wanted to laugh and yell at the same time. She turned Emily around and looked to see where Rose had snipped the hair for the mustache. With Emily’s hair being curly, the missing bit wasn’t too noticeable. It could have been so much worse. As in, a whole long beard worse. Josie had a sudden mental image of Emily with long locks of her hair rubber-cemented all around her jawline. Thank goodness they’d come down when they had, or poor Emily would have ended up bald.

  “Listen, Rose,” Josie said with a sigh, “you are not allowed to cut your sister’s hair or your own hair, do you understand? And rubber cement should never go on your face. You could have gotten it in Emily’s eyes, and then we would’ve ended up at the hospital. You will be in big trouble if you do this again, got it?”

  “Got it,” Rose said reluctantly.

  “And yes, we’re going to eat just as soon as I cook the spaghetti.”

  “Yay!” Emily said, clapping. “I love sketti and meatballs!”

  “Me too!” Rose said. She smiled, already forgetting Josie’s scolding.

  “Me three,” Ivy said, laughing. She winked at Josie. “C’mon, girls, let’s go put your dress-up stuff away so you don’t get sauce on it when we eat.” Ivy herded Rose and Emily back toward the stairs as Josie slid the garlic bread into the oven and put the spaghetti on. With dinner in the homestretch, she meandered back to the little storage room. Other than the ancient typewriter and the rickety card table on which Ivy had placed it, the room contained her vacuum cleaner and a few boxes pushed up against the far wall. Still, it’ll make a cozy place to work, eventually, she thought. For now, she was tickled to have the beginnings of a home office, albeit one of the makeshift variety.

  “Let’s set the table,” she said when Ivy and the girls came back downstairs. Rose climbed up onto a chair and watched as Josie capped her highlighter and closed her notebook.

  “Mom,” Rose said, pointing to the still-open study guide, “why are you writing in your book? You always told us we were never supposed to write in a book, unless it’s a coloring book.” Josie looked at the yellow highlighted passages. “I’m not writing in the book, Rosie. I’m highlighting. It’s what you do when you read something that you have to study and that’s really important for you to remember. See here, how I’ve made lots of these words yellow? It’s because those are the main points in this chapter, and I want to remember them and also to be able to go back and see them quickly when I review them.”

  “Can I have a highlighter to use?” Rose asked.

  “Hmm. What exactly would you use a highlighter for?”

  Rose screwed up her mouth and was quiet for a minute.

  “My spelling words!” Rose said suddenly. She looked up at Josie with a brightened expression. “Mrs. Harp gave us ten words that we have to know by the end of the week. And we have a spelling test on Friday. Don’t you think that if I use a highlighter, I’ll be able to remember them better?”

  “Well,” Josie said slowly, “I suppose that would be a good use for a highlighter.” This kid’s going to be a lawyer, with the way she can think on her feet. She looked over at Ivy, who was lifting plates down from the cupboard, trying not to laugh. “All right, I’ll let you use one, but only if you promise that you will use it only in your spelling workbook and NOT in any other books or anyplace else. Deal?”

  “Deal!” Rose held out her hand and grinned triumphantly as Josie handed her one of the fluorescent yellow markers. “I’m going to go put it up in my room. Be right back!”

  “Make sure you cap it after you use it so it doesn’t dry out,” Josie called as Rose dashed out of the kitchen.

  “She got you good,” Ivy muttered. She nudged Josie aside to set the plates down on the table. “I call that manipulation through logic, and she’s only six! You’re in for it, I tell you. You just wait until she gets older.”

  “You’re right,” Josie said. She made a mental note to remove Rose’s paper-doll scissors from her room. “Rose is diabolical. I’ll just have to keep a close eye on her. I
shudder to think how she’ll turn out if I don’t.”

  CHAPTER 9

  LATE IN THE EVENING, CLAUDIA SAT WAITING ON THE SOFA in Kyle’s apartment, aimlessly flipping through television channels while he said good night to Rowen. She thought back to the afternoon, to the blowup between the DiSanti sisters, and before that, to when Kyle had offered to help unload Emily’s things. He was always eager to lend a hand, and it was just one of the things she loved about him. Their relationship had matured during the time they’d been together, and Claudia had no reason to doubt Kyle’s feelings for her. But even so, Emily’s presence in Mill River made her nervous.

  Claudia glanced down at her tummy and thighs, currently covered by her favorite blue jeans. It had taken her so much—months of exercise, strict dieting, willpower, and tears—to be able to fit in those size-ten jeans. Her stomach still wasn’t as flat as she would like, and despite her now being at a healthy weight and very fit, she knew she would never look like Emily, who was effortlessly lithe with a gorgeous face to match.

  Quit being so paranoid, Claudia suddenly chided herself. Of course Kyle had just been his usual polite self. Her own insecurities were trying to get the better of her.

  “Well, she’s not sleepy yet,” Kyle announced as he came back into the living room. “We struck a bargain—she can read for another fifteen minutes and then it’ll be lights out.”

  “She’s already sucked into those new books, then?” Claudia asked.

  “Yep,” Kyle said. “She’ll blow through them in a few days, tops. Did I tell you that her last achievement test showed that she reads at the eleventh grade level?”

  “Um, you do remember that she was one of my students this past year?” Claudia asked, smiling.