“I wrote you about him. He did that series on modern-day Pakistan for the New York Times. There’s talk of a Pulitzer for it. Anyway, I wrote him a long letter about how I would soon be traveling and I told him I work in a travel agency. Today he called me and asked if I’d plan his next trip for him.” She fell back against her chair and waited for Adam’s exclamation.
“That’s great! Really, it is.”
“I think so. In fact...”
The waitress put their platters in front of them. It was a huge amount of food. “In fact what?” Adam asked.
Vera moved her food around. “I think I’d like to do some journalist work. Tell me about where we’ll live in Kenya. What access do you have to political leaders?”
Adam’s face showed his puzzlement. “I wrote you about all of it.”
“I know. Clean water. That’s important, but what about the big picture? A lot of countries send money to Africa. Where does it go?”
“Not to us,” he said, smiling.
But Vera didn’t smile back. “I’d like to look into that. You should read what Joe wrote about Pakistan. He thinks the separation of the countries was a failure. It was over twenty years ago but people still don’t have homes.”
People at nearby tables looked at them as Vera was getting loud.
He leaned forward, his voice low. “We workers live very quietly. We’re teachers and well diggers. I play a lot of football—that’s soccer in the US. We...” He broke off as he could see Vera’s attention was wavering. He put his hand over hers. “I probably don’t know anything because I haven’t asked. When you get there, you can question everyone.” He went back to his food. “So you’re going to arrange the travel for this guy Harmon?”
“Harding. Joe Harding. Very famous. He’s going to be in Saint Louis next month and I am going to go see him. You okay with that?”
“Depends on his age and what he looks like.”
Vera smiled. “He’s fifty-two and seems to live on beer and cigarettes. He’s spent a lot of time in India. I’d really, really like to go to that country.” Her eyes seemed to glaze over.
“I need to talk to you about something. Kelly—”
Immediately, Vera came back to the present. “What’s wrong? That little twerp Paul hasn’t done something to her, has he? So help me, I’ll rip him apart.”
Adam looked at the couples at the next table. “It’s nothing. Paul leaves tomorrow morning. He won’t be around all summer.”
“That’s good. Hope he stays away.”
“Kelly’s afraid of losing her job with Dr. Carl.”
Vera frowned. “I know, and his wife would make sure Kelly was kicked out. The woman dotes on that son of hers. Him and his little trees.”
Adam couldn’t help frowning. “Paul has some good ideas about organic food.”
“What’s that?” Before Adam could answer, Vera looked at her watch. “I have to go.” She stood up. “Kelly needs to open her own clinic. I’ve told her that a thousand times. She could put Dr. Carl out of business. Then she could dump Paul and she could meet other people.”
“Like Seth Murray?” Adam asked.
“Great idea. Very nice guy. Works for the volunteer fire department. I’m late.” She started toward the door.
Adam caught her hand. “You planning on going to the dance on Saturday?”
A look of horror flashed across Vera’s face. “I usually work on Saturday nights, but if you want to go, I will.”
“No,” Adam said. “I mean, I may go, but only to catch up with people. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
“Good idea.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then left the restaurant.
Adam sat where he was, feeling a bit like he’d just weathered a storm. Had Vera always been like that or had his absence made her that way?
The waitress came to clear the table. “We have pie.”
“Apple?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll have a slice, and could you wrap up a couple of pulled pork sandwiches? I’ll take them with me.”
As he ate, he realized that it was better that he hadn’t told Vera what was going on with Kelly. And certainly not with Paul. Poor guy. He was right—the whole town was going to hate him. But the worst problem was keeping Kelly employed by Dr. Carl. Adam thought of Vera saying Kelly should open her own clinic and Dr. Carl be damned. Vera could do that. She could snub her nose at everyone, but Kelly couldn’t. She would hate it if there was animosity between her and a man who’d been a second father to her. As Paul had said, if Dr. Carl had to choose between his stepson and Kelly, everyone, including Mrs. Carl, knew who he’d choose.
There had to be a way to solve this!
* * *
When Adam got home, he made another stab at sorting the paperwork, but his heart wasn’t in it. He kept thinking about Kelly and Paul. He wanted to be on one person’s side, but he understood both of them. He admired Paul for wanting to create a business, even though it seemed ridiculous. It had taken centuries for farmers to learn how to protect food from insects and now Paul was going backward. It made no sense.
Adam admired Kelly for her love of animals and giving her life to them. Although marrying someone just to keep a job was way too much.
An idea began to form in his mind. It couldn’t work, could it? It was too far-fetched. On the other hand, if his idea did work, it would be nice for everyone: Kelly, Vera, Adam. And for all the adults who seemed to believe that marriage was the one and only goal of every human being.
At four, he rummaged in the kitchen looking for his mother’s big picnic basket. How he missed her! She was the peacemaker, and after she died, Adam and his father never stopped arguing.
He found the basket in the top cabinet. The two sandwiches took up little room inside and Robbie was right that there wasn’t much food in the fridge.
He showered again—a coating of wet horse manure could make a man paranoid—then headed toward the frog pond, making a quick stop at the tiny local grocery. He had no idea what food Kelly liked, so he added potato chips and candy bars and cans of Coke.
“You and Vera goin’ on a picnic?” Hal, the store owner, asked. “Nice day for it.”
Adam just smiled. The village in Africa was as bad as Mason. Everyone knew everything about everybody. A lifetime of gossip had taught him to keep his mouth shut. “It is a nice day,” he said as he left.