Chapter Five #2
“Oh . . . we’d never—” Kit glanced quickly at Banks, whose face said, Maybe don’t go there right now.
“Thank you,” Kit told her. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Oh, Tolerance had no kinder soul than your aunt, honey. ’Course in her later years, she could be all bluster and bully sometimes on the outside, as I am sure you know, but she had a good heart.”
“Thank you,” Kit repeated, not having anything to add.
“Specials today, Mary Gail?” Banks moved the conversation away from the subject, which Kit thought he rightly guessed made her uncomfortable.
“Nope, just the usual. We do have a new batch of chowda, though. Sold out over the weekend, so Linda came in early to make a pot.”
Banks turned to Kit. “I highly recommend Linda’s clam chowder, and her chicken salad.” He looked up at Mary Gail. “That’s what I’m having.”
“As if I didn’t know. You’re totally predictable, Banks. I already wrote that down. How about you, honey?”
“I’ll do the same, thanks.” Kit was starving and could easily put away soup and a sandwich.
“Can I bring you a tonic?” Mary Gail addressed Kit.
Kit wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Did Mary Gail think she looked ill? “What?”
Banks smiled. “You folks down in Pennsylvania say soda. Up this way, it’s tonic. Or pop.”
“What kind of soda do you have?” Kit asked.
“Root beer, Dr Pepper—most of the usual brands. And of course, we serve Moxie here.”
Kit looked over at Banks. “What’s Moxie?”
“It’s a pop—a soda. Its taste is difficult to describe, but you might like it. It’s a Maine original.” Banks nodded. “I’ll have one and maybe let Kit here try one.”
“Sure thing.” Mary Gail patted Kit on the shoulder. “We have Pepsi products as well if you don’t like it. We know it’s not to everyone’s taste.”
“Now I’m intrigued.” Kit smiled and handed her one-sheet typed paper menu to Mary Gail.
After she’d walked away, Banks told Kit, “You’re going to find that just about everyone in Tolerance knew your aunt. Maxine was a fixture in this town. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone who couldn’t tell you a story about her.”
“What was she like?”
The attorney hesitated for a moment. “She was . . . complicated. Nicest, most generous person you will ever meet, or the meanest, most relentlessly unforgiving.”
“Is that why she and my mother never spoke? Did my mother do something Maxine couldn’t forgive her for?”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their food.
“Here’s your lunch, and honey, here’s your Moxie.” Mary Gail handed Kit a straw, then placed a glass of dark liquid in front of her. “See what you think about that.”
Kit’s eyebrows raised at her first sip. It had the strangest taste of any beverage she’d ever tasted. She took another, trying to decide whether to take a third or to hand it back and ask for a Diet Pepsi.
“Well?” Banks asked.
“It’s . . . different. A little, I don’t know, spicy?” She took that third. “A little like root beer with a touch of black licorice, maybe?”
“That’s as good a description as I’ve ever heard,” Mary Gail said, obviously pleased. “Your aunt Maxine loved it, ordered it every time she came in here, and she was here a lot. You know that’s the state drink of Maine, right?”
“I do now.”
“You can trade it in for something else, if you like,” Banks told her.
“I think I’ll stick with it. It has an interesting flavor. I don’t hate it.”
“Well, then. We have a convert. Anything else?” Mary Gail looked from Kit to Banks, then back again. After they both declined, she said, “I’ll leave you to your lunch. Enjoy.”
Kit started with the clam chowder. Two spoonfuls in, she turned to Banks. “This is delicious.”
“Linda’s a fine cook. She’s been with Ruthie for years.” He spooned chowder into his mouth. ‘“Damn, but that’s good. I should say, they’ve been together for years. They met at the camp, by the way.”
“The camp?”
“The Camp in the Meadows. A lot of us spent all or part of our summers there. There was a day camp for local kids—your grandmother ran that—so every summer we’d go in the afternoons and play, swim, fish.
It started out as a playground and some activities for the campers’ kids.
Then either Barbie or Maxine wanted their friends from town to be able to come and play, and your grandmother agreed that their friends and neighbors should be able to send their kids over.
It became a thing after a while. Your grandparents had to hire extra people just to watch the playground.
Of course, once Barbie and Maxine were old enough, they ran the camp for the little kids. ”
“That was nice of my grandmother.” Kit chewed a bite of sandwich slowly.
“She was a very nice lady, your grandmother was.”
“So you knew the whole family?”
“Oh, sure. This is a small town, Kit. Everyone knows everyone.”
“So everyone would know what happened between my mother and Maxine?”
He put his spoon down before answering. “Ah, now that, I think not. That was pretty much between the girls. Barbie and Maxine.”
“But you know.” Kit was beginning to believe this man knew all her family’s secrets.
His eyes met hers across the table, and he nodded.
“But you’re not going to tell me.”
Another shake of his head. “As I told you on the phone, it’s not—”
“Your story to tell. Right. I remember. But can you tell me this: How did Maxine know about me if she and my mother didn’t speak? And why was my sister left out of her will?”
“I’m sorry. I cannot speak to any of that without breaking my word.” He picked up his sandwich. Before taking a bite, he added, as if trying to make a joke, “If there’s one person I don’t want haunting me, it’s Maxine Meadows.”
“But not my mom? Her haunting you doesn’t scare you?”
“Not Barbie’s style.”
“You seem to have known my mother well.” She hoped she sounded more casual than she felt.
“Oh, very well. We were in the same grade in school, you know, so we were classmates from kindergarten on up.”
Kit made a quick calculation. Her mother had been born in 1942, so if she and Banks were the same age, he’d be eighty-three years old. Amazing.
“No, I didn’t know. My mother never said much about growing up here. What was she like back then?”
“Probably much as she was as an adult. Kind, caring, thoughtful. Always a lot of fun, great sense of humor.”
“So you’d been in touch with her after she left Tolerance.”
“From time to time, we would have occasion to speak.” It seemed to Kit he was choosing his words carefully.
“When was the last time you spoke with her?”
“A few weeks before her death.” He took a long sip of his drink.
“May I ask what you spoke about?”
Kit looked up to see Mary Gail approaching the table. “So, how did you like your first Moxie, hon?”
“It wasn’t bad. I’d order it again,” Kit said.
“Attagirl.” A smiling Mary Gail patted her on the back.
Banks shut down whatever it was she was about to say and cleared his throat.
To Mary Gail, he said, “I’ll take the check.”
To Kit, he said, “It’s best we continue this discussion back at the office.”