“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Sure. We had radar set up down on Kidder Extended, one way, you know, two blocks behind the Kroger.”
“I know the area.” It was a notorious speed trap.
“She came busting down the wrong way, clocked her at forty-five in a twenty-five zone. Speeding, reckless, wrong way, no lights, plus expired tags.”
“When did they expire?”
“Uh, last week, I believe.”
“No lights?”
“Yeah, you see it was raining and her wipers were on. If wipers are on, then lights too.”
“Were you solo?”
“Oh, in other words, Do I have a witness?”
“Something like that.”
“Yes, I was solo, but I have the video. Dashcam. Slow-motion and living color. Ask me nicely and I’ll send you the link.”
“Okay. Look, I need to talk to the judge. Any objections if we bump it for a few weeks?”
“No problem here.”
It was routine in the city courts to continue cases for a month or so, especially when lawyers got involved.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” the officer said. “But, look, has she told you about the other charges?”
“Afraid not.”
“Two pending, both moving violations. Ran a red last week, and used a wrong lane two weeks ago. Dashcam, more footage. If this reckless sticks, it’s probably time to sell the car.”
“Thanks.”
Inside the courtroom, Simon stopped by the clerk’s desk and filed a short request for a continuance. He and Eleanor left the annex and walked two blocks to a coffee shop where he paid for two cups and they sat in a corner.
With a warm smile, Simon began with “You should’ve told me about these traffic tickets, Netty. This is more serious than I first thought.”
Her eyes watered and she said, “I know. I just didn’t want to worry you with them. You’ve done so much for me. My will, getting me out of town when Clyde was here. I just hate to bother. I know how busy you are.”
He kept smiling as he listened, nothing but warmth and understanding. “I’m never too busy to help my clients, Netty. That’s what I’m for. Now, who is your insurance agent?”
She frowned, then closed her eyes for a second. “Oh, what’s her name? Sells Allstate up north of town, by the mall. I’ll think of it.”
“I’ll find her. This could pose a real problem, Netty. Reckless driving is a serious charge and insurance companies don’t like them. Plus you have other charges you never told me about.”
“I’m so sorry. Will they take away my license?” The fear was obvious, and Simon felt sorry for her. Mobility was life, and losing it only brought the end closer.
“I don’t know but probably not. The bigger problem is losing your insurance. You can’t drive if you have no insurance.”
“Oh dear.”
“But I’ll get to work on it. Now, about the expired tags. You’ve told me that you still pay all of your own bills.”
“I do indeed,” she bristled. “Every Monday morning, I pay my bills first thing. It’s an old habit Harry had.”
“I see. So how did you miss the license renewal?”
“I don’t know. Something must have fallen through the cracks. It’s not a monthly bill, you know?” She was indignant for a moment and tried to seem offended. Then, from nowhere, “Doris wants to do lunch with us. She knows an Indian place out in the country in an old service station. Said the food is great.”
Doris was a friend she mentioned occasionally, one of few. Simon wasn’t thrilled with the idea of lunching with a stranger. “Is Doris still driving?”
“Oh yes. She’s only seventy-nine.”
“Married.”
“Sort of. Delbert is in a facility, out of it. Hasn’t said a word in two years. Really sad. I’ve told her all about our lunches and she would really like to join us.”
“I don’t know, Netty. We discuss some pretty serious matters over lunch and there are things we need to decide. Let’s wait a while before we include anyone else.”
She did not like to be told no and began to pout.
Chapter 18
On a glorious Saturday morning in early September, with a chill in the air and the golden leaves falling from the oaks and maples, Simon rose early in The Closet and left to do what he now dreaded: stand away from the crowd and watch his talented nine-year-old daughter chase a soccer ball around the field. Kickoff was eight-thirty, so he arrived ten minutes early to make sure Janie saw him, which she did. Paula had watched the last game. This one was his. The tag-team approach worked because they had no choice.
They had survived the summer travel schedule by taking turns, which meant Simon had spent long weekends in Raleigh, Pittsburgh, and Baltimore. Since Janie was playing in a local recreation league for the fall, all games were at the complex, in the same place. Simon was thankful for small miracles, but it had not been easy. The same guy who’d coached the summer team (at $4,200 per player) was also coaching a fall travel team (another $4,500), with weekend tournaments as far away as Atlanta. Five games guaranteed with dozens of college scouts taking notes as they analyzed ten-year-old athletes. Of course, Janie had been keen to do fall travel, but, in a rare moment of cooperation, both parents said no.
Simon was startled when Paula suddenly said, “I brought you a coffee.” She handed him a tall white cup with a lid.
“Thanks. What are you doing here?”
“It wouldn’t be a real Saturday without soccer, now would it?”
“I thought you were at a swim meet with Danny.”
“He quit.”
“Danny quit swimming?”
“He did.”
“When?”
“This morning. He wouldn’t get out of bed, said he was quitting.”
Simon wanted to celebrate. Of all the sports the kids had tried so far, swimming was the worst because it was year-round. Danny had been a fish until he was twelve years old, then the other kids caught up. Now he rarely won a race and was losing his love for the sport.
The ref blew her whistle and the game was on.
“How’s Janie’s attitude these days?” he asked.
“Who knows? One day she’s okay, the next she’s in a mood. She’s having a rougher time with the divorce than the boys. Our house is a pretty gloomy place these days.”
“Then let’s get the divorce behind us and move on.”
“Move on to where?”
The great question. Where were they going? What was their endgame after splitting the family? Was that supposed to make life fulfilling again? Simon had no answers, nor did Paula, but the only thing they were sure of was that they could not stay together.
She said, “There’s something else.” Then silence.
Ah, now the real reason for her unscheduled appearance at another soccer game too early on a Saturday morning. He waited without a word, refusing to help her.
“The Glen is being sold, another merger of some variety. I’m not sure what it means for me.” She had a master’s degree in business administration and earned $72,000 a year as the finance director at a midrange retirement community called The Glen. It was owned by a large, shifty corporation that changed its name every three years and had a reputation that was not exactly stellar.
“We had our first round of layoffs yesterday.”
“And what are your chances of being laid off?”
“Not sure, but the place is in full panic mode.”
The last thing they needed was more uncertainty. Her steady salary had been the one constant in their otherwise unsteady finances.
“Any idea when the second round will take place?”