Chapter 26
Marilyn
After hugging Devan and asking her to keep me updated, no matter the time of day or night, I look around the waiting room. Ricky said he was going to ask Devan where he should stay, but he’s nowhere to be found.
Jill bumps my shoulder. “Are you sure you want to go back?”
Swallowing, I nod.
I can’t quell the feeling of sadness that’s come over me. I tell myself it is about Justin and for Devan, but I know it’s Ricky. There was something in his voice that makes me uneasy.
“Are you going to say goodbye to Ricky?” Jill asks.
Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. “We already said bye. I don’t know where he is.”
Settling in Todd and Jill’s back seat, I pull out my phone, ready to send Ricky a text message, when I remember that he doesn’t have his phone. With a sigh, I push my phone back into my purse. Our ride is relatively quiet. There isn’t a lot to say when one of your friends is hurt and another is hurting.
“Todd?” I ask. His gaze goes to the rearview mirror. “I know you weren’t really part of the farming in Riverbend.”
“Not willingly,” he says with a scoff. “As a teenager, my dad made me help at the Gordons’ farm. I think everyone in town did their time there.”
“Mrs. Gordon is still keeping it going,” Jill says. “She has to be a hundred if she’s fifty.”
I laugh. “Jack is over fifty, and I’ve heard him talk about working that farm as a kid.”
“Yep. She’s a hundred,” Jill says. “Why are you asking?”
“Ricky was talking about Justin’s recovery and how he’ll need help.”
“He won’t ask for it,” Todd volunteers. “Justin Sheers has always been stubborn.”
I laugh. “That seems to be the general accepted description. But he will need help. Do you think he could hire someone?”
“Randy will do what he can,” Todd says. “And Dax will help when he can.”
“Will that be enough?”
“Probably not,” Todd says, telling me what I already know. “It sucks. Justin took on a lot of work, combining the two farms. If he only had half the acres, but damn, I think there’s about a thousand.”
That was what Ricky said.
I lay my head back on the seat and watch the world pass by the SUV windows, feeling like every mile that I go is a mile away from Ricky that I’ll never get back. Closing my eyes, I send good thoughts to Devan, hoping the surgeon comes out with favorable news.
“Marilyn.”
Jill’s voice comes to me in my dream seconds before I realize she’s waking me. I startle awake, seeing that we’re parked in front of my apartment building.
“Sorry,” I say. “I fell asleep.”
“You were both sleeping,” Todd says. “And I’m not going to say which one of you was snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” Jill and I say in unison.
She gets out of the car and gives me a hug. “If you hear anything…”
I nod. “If you do.”
Climbing the steps to my second-floor apartment, I wish above anything that I had a way to communicate with Ricky. For the first time in years, I yearn for a house phone. If I knew which house he was staying at. Inside my apartment, I see that it’s after midnight.
Is Justin out of surgery?
By the time I’m ready for bed, I still don’t have any new messages on my phone. I send Devan a heart emoji and turn in for the night. In the morning, I wake to multiple text messages from Devan.
The first one is time stamped after 1:00 a.m.
Justin is out of surgery.
The next one is time stamped just before 3:00 a.m.
They finally have him in a room.
At 5:25 a.m., just before my alarm, I receive the third message.
He’s awake.
There are tears in my eyes as I send her a response.
Give him a hug for me. I love you both. Get some sleep.
On my way to work, I swing by Ricky’s apartment. From all his stories about his roommate, I’m not exactly sure who will answer the door, if anyone. It’s nearly seven thirty when I knock on the door. I wait. I knock again. I wait.
I’m about to walk away when the door opens.
Max’s blond hair is in disarray, and he’s wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, not briefs. I try to keep my line of sight to his eyes. The fly on the boxers doesn’t seem to fasten.
“Um,” I say, “Ricky lost his phone, and I wanted to come by and see if it’s here.”
Max rubs his eyes. “Yeah, you can come in.” He opens the door wider.
I step inside. The living room has two open pizza boxes with nothing but crumbs. And a video game is on the TV screen. I can’t see into Max’s room, but it doesn’t appear as if he has company.
“Have you seen his phone?”
Max yawns and points to the kitchen. “I think that’s his in there.”
The kitchen is as clean as the living room, which isn’t a compliment. On the table by a box of cereal is a black iPhone. I pick it up. “I think it’s his.” I swipe the screen, and nothing happens. The phone is dead.
“I don’t know,” Max says with a shrug. “Where is Rich?”
“He’s down in Riverbend. A friend was injured yesterday.”
“Oh man.” He walks to the coffeepot and lifts the carafe. “Want some coffee? I’m not sure when this was made.” He looks at me with wide eyes. “Coffee doesn’t go bad, does it?”
“Could the phone belong to anyone else?” I ask.
Max contemplates the question for what seems longer than necessary. “I don’t think so.” He wrinkles his forehead. “I don’t remember anyone being here last night.” He pours the coffee into a mug from the sink. “I haven’t gotten any messages. I didn’t know.”
“Well—” I lift the phone. “—he doesn’t have this, so it’s hard for him to message.”
Max laughs. “Yeah. I like you. You’re the best girlfriend he’s brought around.”
“The best?”
“The only,” Max says, lowering his voice as if he’s telling me a secret.
“Do you know where his charger is?”
“Probably his bedroom.”
Carrying the phone, I make my way down the hall to where I know Ricky’s bedroom is. It feels a little like snooping, and I don’t want to be that kind of girlfriend. Turning the knob, I push the door open.
The last time I was at his apartment, Ricky’s bedroom was neat. Today, his new suit is lying on the floor, along with the dress shirt and tie. Drawers are open and items are hanging out.
“He left in a hurry,” I say to myself as I bend down and pick up his suit. There’s no sense having it wrinkled. I smooth the fabric before hanging the pants and suit coat on hangers in his closet.
Remembering my task at hand, I look around for his charger. It isn’t on his bedside stand, so I check his desk. The first thing I see is a spiral notebook. Peering toward the door to see if Max is watching, I open the notebook. Before I can read his words, I chastise myself for snooping.
That condemnation only lasts a millisecond, before I see what Ricky wrote. It’s about his meetings with people from Parker and Stevens. Each entry is dated all the way back through last September, when he first decided to apply for a job.
I sit on the side of his bed and quickly read his entries.
With each one, my heartstrings are pulled. He mentions how much he wants to work at a reputable firm. He knows more about the history of Parker and Stevens than I do. I flip the pages until I get to the dinner two weeks ago.
Friday, January …
I was dreading the dinner after what happened last night. To be clear with myself when I read this later, I didn’t write this entry until Sunday night, after the dinner. Let me say, Friday night exceeded all my expectations. To my honor and shock, Marilyn James kept her word. I didn’t think she wasn’t a person who kept her word, I just didn’t think I deserved for her to show. She did!
I met Ralph Stevens, and we talked about farming. His grandfather owned a five-hundred-acre farm in southern Michigan, and he has always had respect for the profession. He’s asked me to speak to him on the phone on Monday. I also met Herold Parker. He’s younger than Mr. Stevens and very interesting. I’d read that, originally, Herold’s father had partnered with Ralph at Parker and Stevens. After the father died unexpectedly from an aneurysm, Herold Jr. went into business with Ralph Stevens. Marilyn introduced me to everyone in the room. It felt unreal that I, a nobody from Riverbend, was at that level. Cinderella at the ball and my Prince Charming was the most beautiful woman at the dinner. Maybe I can deserve Marilyn. I sure as hell am going to try.
I close the notebook, not wanting to read more.
“Did you find the charger?” Max asks, peeking into the room.
Laying the notebook back on the desk, I see the white cord and plug. “I found it.” I hurriedly take the charger and stuff it into my purse. “I’m headed back down to Riverbend after work. I’ll take this to Ricky.”
Max laughs. “You’re the only one who calls him that. It sounds like some name from a comic strip.”
I can’t come up with a Ricky in a comic strip. Richie Rich is my only connection. “It’s the name he went by back in our hometown.”
“You’re from Riverbend too?”
“I am.”
“Bet you’re glad you’re out of there.”
“Not always.” I pass by Max and head toward the front door. “Thanks for letting me in.”
“I have to be at the mall at nine thirty. You saved me from being late.”
“I need to get to work too.” I open the door to their apartment. Max shuts it after I pass through.
My only thought is that Ricky deserves the job he was offered. I learned more about Mr. Stevens and Mr. Parker in that one entry than I have learned in three years.
“Don’t give up your dream,” I say to myself as I make my way to my car.