“Good Lord.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. I saw the X-rays from the hospital. His foot was folded up behind his calf like a clam shell.”
Charlie thought about the brace on Leroy’s leg. Was he too disabled to chase after his granddaughter? Flora was young, but she looked like she could handle herself. All she had to do was briskly walk away. Then again, if she was being assaulted by her grandfather, a man who had taken over as her father when her own father had died, then she might not feel like she could run away from anything.
“About his injury.” Charlie looked up at Lenore. “I was wondering if—”
Lenore held up a finger to stop her. The woman’s hearing was bat-level precise. Three more seconds passed before Charlie heard the humming and snapping and clicking that announced her father walking up the hallway.
“What warm delights!” He clutched his chest at the sight of them. “Two beautiful women in my kitchen. And cinnamon buns!” Rusty helped himself to a pastry. “Tell me, ladies, what does a thesaurus eat for breakfast?”
“A synonym bun,” Charlie answered. “I was asking Lenny about Leroy and Maude Faulkner.”
Rusty raised an eyebrow as he took a messy bite of bun. He had no qualms about talking with his mouth full. “Last time I dealt with those two, Maude had sliced open Leroy’s face with a switchblade.”
Charlie felt a chunk of broken glass pump through her heart. “Any particular reason?”
“The magic of inebriation, I assume. Leroy refused to press charges once he sobered up.” Rusty took the paper napkin Lenore shoved in his face. “It’s a love/hate relationship. They love to hate each other.”
Charlie asked, “Do you think they’d ever turn on each other?”
“Absolutely, but then they’d turn right back.” Rusty grinned around another bite of pastry. “Those two are the proverbial finger and the asshole. You can never tell who’s fucking who.”
Charlie had long become anesthetized to her father’s colorful remarks. She did not want to, but she looked at the calendar again. She could feel a sheen of sweat on the back of her neck. She worked to stay with the problem at hand, asking Rusty, “What do you know about their granddaughter?”
“She lost her mother in a terrible accident.”
“Are they capable of taking care of her? I mean, like, without hurting her?”
He gave her a curious look. “What are you asking?”
Charlie did not know how to ask her father if Leroy Faulkner was a pedophile. Even if Rusty knew, he was likely bound by attorney–client privilege and couldn’t tell her. “Do you think she’s safe with her grandparents?”
“People make bad decisions when they’re down on their luck.”
“So, she’s not safe?”
“I did not say that.” Rusty grabbed up another cinnamon bun. “I will, however, tell you that back when the girl’s mama died, the fact that there was a trust fund went a long way toward convincing them that they should raise her. Like tying a pork chop around a kid’s neck so the dog will play with her.”
Charlie wasn’t surprised by the news. “What happens when the money runs out?”
“Indeed.”
Another non-answer. Charlie tried to narrow down his options: “They only pretend to love her because of the money in the trust? Or do they really love her, even without the money?” She groaned. “How much money did you get for Leroy after the accident?”
“Forced arbitration,” Rusty answered, which meant that the case had not been handled by a judge and jury, but by a professional arbitrator who likely worked for the company that was being sued. “Most of the money went to the doctors and the hospital and rehab. Not much left after that. His greedy lawyer sucked up all the rest.”
Charlie looked away as pieces of pastry fell from his mouth.
Rusty took another bite. “Anything else, Charlie Bear?”
Charlie held up her hand. “You’ve been so helpful already.”
He was immune to sarcasm. “You are most welcome, my beloved daughter.”
Rusty left, snapping his fingers, humming until the cinnamon bun got caught in his throat, then hacking a cough that sounded like the late stages of tuberculosis.
Charlie asked Lenore, “Why do you put up with him?”
“I don’t, really.” Lenore told Charlie something Rusty would not: “Your dad cut his fee in half to help out, but Leroy walked away with around fifty grand, which is a lot, but not a hell of a lot.”
“Is Leroy on disability?”
“I doubt it. He wouldn’t be able to qualify because he’s a convicted felon. Can’t get food stamps or housing or any government aid.”
“I don’t guess Maude has a job?”
“She’s got plenty of beer money,” Lenore said. “And she’s at Shady Ray’s more than your father, so she’s pulling an income somehow.”
“Do you know her?”
“Just around.” She winked at Charlie. “I’m at Shady Ray’s more than your father, too.”
“Is Maude making the beer money on her back?”
“I guess there’s a certain type of man who’d pay to screw her, but I can’t think there’s enough kink in this pissant town to keep her gainfully employed.”
Charlie could not disagree. Neither could she see Maude Faulkner prostituting herself out. Running a bevy of prostitutes, maybe, but not doing any of the dirty work herself.
Which meant that the woman’s beer money had probably been siphoned from Flora’s college fund.
Lenore asked, “You okay, baby?”
Unbidden, Charlie’s eyes had gone to the calendar again. “They threatened me. Leroy did, but Maude was clearly on board.”
“Is that why you look so pale?”
Charlie mad
e herself look down at the half-empty pan of cinnamon buns. Her mouth watered at the prospect of the sweet, warm goodness, but her arms felt too tired to move.
“Charlotte?”
Slowly, reluctantly, Charlie’s gaze returned to the calendar. She stared at the numbers, willing them to roll back. This wasn’t only about the Visa bill. She had lost an entire week. How had that happened?
Lenore asked, “How was Belinda this morning?”
“Angry,” Charlie said, because there was no better description. “She was angry the first time she was pregnant, too.”
“She’s not angry because she’s pregnant. She’s angry because her husband’s a dick.”
“She said that men change when you have children.”
“Ryan was always a dick. It’s what made him a good soldier.” Lenore held her hand. “What is it, honey?”
“What was Mama like when she was pregnant?”
Lenore smiled. “Excited. A little scared. Radiant. I never believed that bullshit about pregnant women glowing. I mean, what are they, light bulbs? But with your mama, it was true. She glowed with joy.”
Charlie smiled back. She had thought the same thing about Belinda this morning.
Lenore continued, “You sister was a happy accident, but with you, everything was planned. She told your daddy exactly when it was going to happen, what you were going to be named, what subjects you were going to love in school, what you were going to be when you grew up.”
“Was she right?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your mother was always right about everything.” Lenore added, “And she loved you and your sister to her very last breath.”
Charlie had witnessed her mother’s last breath. She knew that Lenore’s words were true.
Lenore said, “Not all men are assholes.”
“I know.” Charlie picked at the cinnamon bun until a piece flaked off.
“Ben is a wonderful human being.”