“Time slips away,” the undersheriff said. Irene looked like her grandmother-square, almost stout, with a strong jaw, and the same shock of unruly hair that would go first salt-and-pepper and then steel gray as she matured.
Serafina headed back toward the kitchen. “I hope she comes back in time for you to say hello,” she called. “She walked over to talk with Danny Rivera for a little bit.” She smiled. “He thinks that he wants to buy my old car, and they backed it out of the shed this morning. He needs to find a tire, I know that much.”
Estelle reached out for the mug of coffee. “And you know,” Serafina continued, “I’m glad that you stopped by. I’m so addled headed these days. If I wanted to sell the Jeep, is there anything special that I have to do?”
“Just fill in the back of the title certificate,” Estelle said. “That transfers ownership. Then the buyer needs to add the vehicle to his insurance, and register it with the MVD. They have to have it insured before the MVD will issue the registration. It’s pretty simple.”
“So I just sign the title?”
“That’s correct. If you want a bill of sale, the MVD has blank forms that you can use. I’ll be happy to help you with it, if you like. You don’t have to have one, but a bill of sale is always a good idea.”
“Well, we’ll see,” Serafina said. “Why Danny would want such a monster, I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Those were good, rugged trucks,” Estelle said. “You drove it over the pass to school for a lot of years.”
“It’s really like new, you know.” Serafina waved a hand in dismissal. “I mean, if you don’t consider that it’s a filthy mess at the moment, with a flat tire. But really, it’s all road miles, you know. They say that’s good. None of this stop-and-go. But now I didn’t drive much, you see. A big old boat like that isn’t worth anything anymore. I’d be just as happy to see it put to use.”
She motioned toward the living room. “Let’s sit. These old bones don’t work like they used to.” Estelle followed her out and crossed to the TV console, setting down her coffee cup as she sat in the straight chair near the wall heater. The aroma of the coffee was strong, but now she could smell the fragrance of Serafina’s visitor, light perfume, maybe shower potions, that drifted out from one of the bedrooms.
“I can’t stay long,” Estelle said. “I stopped by because I’m still hung up on this sweepstakes thing.”
“You worry me a little bit with all this,” Serafina said.
“I’m sorry if I do, but I keep wondering how you heard about the sweepstakes originally, Serafina. You gave me the copy of the first letter that you kept. But in the beginning, did they contact you first, or did you have to send something in? How did that all work?”
Serafina sipped the coffee tentatively, grimaced, and said, “I didn’t ask if you take cream or sugar. This is pretty strong. I think I lost count when I was putting the coffee in.”
“Neither one, thanks.”
Serafina relaxed back in the Morris chair. “Let’s see, now. I received a letter, right out of the blue. Just a routine mailing, I think. At least, that’s what I thought it was, at first. Then I saw that it was from Canada, and I’m something of a stamp fancier, so the first thing I did was cut off the postage. I have a grandniece who saves stamps, you see. Then I saw that it was a formal business letter, and that’s when I read the whole thing. And land, if I hadn’t won a little bit. It was the same the second time.”
“Just like that? A letter from out of the blue.”
Serafina nodded. “But isn’t that the way of it? Those notices from the publishers’ thing…they just arrive unannounced. Except this time, it wasn’t a come-on. It was just a formal letter saying that I had won, and what to do in order to claim the prize. None of the usual folderol with all the bright lights and fanfare.”
“It said that the check would be delivered by courier, then.”
“Certainly. And that made me feel a little better, too, knowing that I’d be dealing with someone face-to-face.”
Estelle reached across and picked up the coffee cup, looking down into the brew thoughtfully.
“I’d like to know how they selected your name,” she said finally. “That’s the thing I can’t stop thinking about.”
Serafina chuckled. “Oh, in this day and age? Our names are common fodder, I’m sure. Use a credit card once and that’s it. Of course, I don’t do that. But buy a set of charity Christmas address labels just once, or send away for a magazine. Our lives are open books, dear. But what difference does it all make? They did just what they said they would do.”
“I suppose.”
“You don’t have to drink that if you don’t care for it,” Serafina said, and Estelle placed the cup back on the console.
“Coffee and I don’t get along too well,” she said. “But thanks, Serafina. I really need to run. You said that Irene went over to Danny’s?”
“Just a few minutes ago. Now,” and she smiled slyly, “supposedly to try and find a tire from that mess over there. But they cut across the old orchard. I told them they should drive, but they wanted to walk a little. It’s such a short ways, and it’s such a beautiful day.”
“Maybe we’ll take a minute and stop by there, then,” Estelle said, pushing herself to her feet. As an afterthought, she asked, “At any point, did the sweepstakes company call you on the phone?”
“Oh, no. You know,” Serafina said, heaving herself out of the chair with great effort, “half the time, I don’t answer the phone anyway. It always rings when I’m right in the middle of something. Us old ladies don’t move so fast anymore. And most of the time, you know, it’s one of those recordings. They don’t give up easily.”
“No, they don’t,” Estelle agreed.
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine.”
“Little old ladies are the favorite target these days,” Serafina said. “That’s what the news is always saying.”
“Did you talk about winning with anyone? Relatives, maybe? Or someone here in town?”
Serafina’s eyes twinkled again, and she held a crooked index finger over her lips. “In a little place like this,” she said, “you talk to just one person and first thing you know, it’s a secreto a voces through the whole town. Joe and Lucinda, they know all about that.”
“You’re wise to be careful,” Estelle said affectionately. “But I confess I’m still curious. I can understand Joe and Lucinda’s names coming up.…There’s some notoriety there when they won the state lottery. I’m curious how other names are selected.”
“You could ask the company.”
“Yes, I could. And I will, tomorrow. Sundays are difficult.” She took her full coffee cup out to the kitchen, a tiny room whose surfaces were under years of enamel paint of various pastel colors, with a kitchen sink so stained by Regál’s hard water that it looked more like reddish brown stoneware than white porcelain.
Serafina had settled back in her chair and didn’t get up as Estelle returned to the living room. The television remained ignored, and Estelle wondered if it had been on all night. “You should visit more often,” the elderly woman said.
“Yes, I should.”
“Bring your mother with you next time.”
“I think she’d like that.”
“Who’s that riding with you today?” Serafina asked, and Estelle felt a twinge of sadness at the repetition.
“Her name is Madelyn Bolles,” the undersheriff said. “She’s in town for just a few days.”
“A friend from college?”
“No. She’s a writer. She’s working on a profile of our department.”
“Ah. All right. Well, if you have to go, then you have to go.” She reached out a hand to take Estelle’s. “It’s always so nice to see you, querida.” She used the grip to boost her out of the chair and, with more of a hobble than a walk, escorted Estelle to the front step. She stood in the doorway watching as Estelle made her way back through the tall grama grass to the car. The undersheriff passed within half a dozen feet of the Jeep, and could smell the perfume of its sludgy oil and sun-baked paint and rubber.