Made to Order Family

Herne Ruth

“It doesn’t matter,” Cade told him. “As long as it’s right, the cost is insignificant.”

His words touched Brooks’ heart.

Brooks was frugal. His lifestyle reflected that. He was constantly amazed at how quickly Rita went through money, week after week. Shoes here, doctors there, school supplies, car repairs, food, clothes. Her expenses boggled the mind.

Picturing Cade’s family, Brooks realized he was the anomaly, not them. His singular status and prudence labeled him different.

Usually that didn’t bother him.

Today it did.

A movement outside caught his attention, a flash of red-gold skirting the parking lot. “Cade, have you noticed this stray dog that’s been hanging around?”

“No. How long’s he been around?”

“Off and on for the last week or more,” Brooks told him. He taped the edges and slid the frame into one of his distinctive cord-handled bags. “A retriever.”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“I just caught a glimpse of him alongside the parking lot. He’s been getting into my garbage at night, making quite a mess.”

“Tags?”

“Haven’t gotten close enough to see. He’s furtive.”

“Or smart.”

“Either way, it’s a pain to have to chase him off.”

“I’ll keep an eye out and let Bill Pickering know.” Bill was the animal-control officer for St. Lawrence County.

The idea of the dog being caged niggled, but the thought of not having to wrestle garbage constantly won out. “Thanks.” Brooks hesitated, then asked, “They won’t put him down, will they?”

“That depends on a lot of factors,” Cade explained. “If he’s got an owner, tags, if he’s healthy, adoptable. A lot of strays get put down. There are no guarantees.”

“But he’s not that bad,” protested Brooks.

Cade went silent for a moment. When he spoke his voice held more than a hint of question and a good dose of amusement. “You either want him caught or you don’t. Which is it?”

Brooks ran a frustrated hand through his hair and frowned. “I’m not sure, myself.”

“Well, when you figure it out, call me back. I’m just across the road, so I’m fairly accessible.”

“Thanks, Chief.

He wouldn’t call, Brooks decided. The thought of the dog locked up in a pound bothered him. Not as much as the dog rummaging his garbage, but still…

Nothing to be euthanized for, right? A few scraps of paper, some old mac and cheese and one worn shoe that Brooks really should have tossed months ago.

Definitely not worth a death sentence, but Brooks couldn’t deny he’d like to get a full night’s sleep on a more regular basis, and hoped the locked-up garbage bin would ensure that.

Chapter Five

Rita took a deep breath, breathed a prayer for strength and dialed her brother-in-law Ed’s home. “Heather, it’s Rita. Is Ed available?”

Her former sister-in-law’s voice faltered. “I’m not sure, Rita.”

Rita sent her gaze upward, compressed her lips and bit back what she wanted to say. “I only need a minute.”

“Who is it?” Ed’s churlish voice came through gnarled, as if Heather tried to block the sensitive microphone a little too late.

“Rita.”

“What does she want?” His emphasis on the pronoun smacked of disregard. Obviously Ed felt she had nothing to say that he wanted to hear. But if she was going to garner enough courage to run her own business and her own life, Rita needed to lasso some guts, take charge and do what was needed on a daily basis. A good businesswoman didn’t put things off for her convenience or to shore up a sagging self-esteem.

“Tell him I need to talk to him, Heather. It’s either talk to me now or I’ll come right over.”

“She says she’s coming over if you don’t talk to her.”

Ed muttered words unsuitable for decent company and Rita hoped his kids were somewhere else. Anywhere else. But Ed’s kids had been raised around his late-day vulgarity, the ever-present twelve-pack of beer an after-hours habit.

“What do you want?”

Rita heard his words and figured he was about six cans into the night and it was only five o’clock.

“Ed, you’re aware the judge could make his decision any day regarding the pension fund, right?”

“I know you’re trying to finagle your way into messing up my retirement fund, yes. And that any decent judge will see right through your little scheme and tell you to get your drunken butt out of bed and get a better job. Take care of my brother’s kids.”

His words hit their mark, but Rita choked back a retort. “Ed, if you split the fund now, I’ll drop the case. I’m starting a bakery of my own and those funds would go a long way to helping me get on my feet.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Ed expounded. “I know you’re a worthless excuse for a wife and mother, that if Tommy hadn’t been working night and day to keep you in fancy clothes and cars, he wouldn’t have done what he did. You drove him to it, and we all know it.”

“Ed, if you wait for the judge to rule, you could be liable for legal fees and court costs. Those add up.”

“That judge ain’t gonna give you a dime,” Ed shot back. “You get your share when I get mine, at age sixty-five. That’s how Tommy and I set it up, and that’s how it is. Now leave me alone.”

Click.

Rita stared at the phone, thinking of all the things she wished she could say, then sighed. Not one of them would change the outcome, change Ed’s outlook or make a difference in the long run, so why say them?

Complete satisfaction?

Sure, yanking Ed’s chain with a long-winded spiel might offer some sense of momentary comfort, but it was better she leave things be. She’d called, she’d tried, made an honest attempt. Now she’d go to the banks knowing she’d given it her best shot with Ed. Yeah, she’d come up short, but she hadn’t chickened out or gone off on him. Two good things.