Kelly Sofie - Curiosity Thrilled The Cat

I sighed and stood up. “Where?” I asked.

“Window on the far left.” Larry looked back over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it seems Will’s guys are on a break.”

“They take a lot of breaks,” I said, coming around the desk. I followed Larry to the computer room. Just as he’d said, the end window—a brand-new-three-weeks-ago window—was leaking. A small stream of water ran along the inside edge of the unit, between the actual frame holding the glass and the build-out, across the wide ledge and onto the floor. Actually it was running into a large white bucket with SHORTENING written on the side. The floor around the base of the bucket was wet.

“Do you have any rags or paper towels to soak up that water?” Larry asked.

“There’s a plastic crate full of clean rags under the sink in the lunchroom upstairs,” I said.

Larry touched my arm. “Stay here. I’ll get them.” He headed for the stairs. I checked the other windows.

I was thankful there was only the one leak.

Larry came back with the box of cloths in one hand and a couple of heavy drop cloths in the other. He handed me the drop cloths. “I thought it might be a good idea to put these under the other windows—just in case,” he said.

Together we spread the painting tarps under the two dry-for-now windows. Then I mopped up the small pool of water around the bucket. The leak hadn’t slowed down, but it wasn’t any faster, either.

“There’s probably something wrong with the flashing outside around that window,” Larry said.

I looked at the little river of water running down the side of the window. I took a couple of deep breaths, but they did nothing for the anger simmering in my stomach.

“Looks like I need to track down Will,” I said to Larry, rubbing my wet hands together.

“Good luck with that,” he said with a wry smile.

I went back to my office and called Will’s cell phone. No surprise; all I got was voice mail. I left a tense, brief message.

Then I hung up and called Lita at Everett’s office. I explained about the leak, and after a moment’s hesitation gave her the highlights of what it had been like working with Will, especially lately.

“You have more patience than I do, Kathleen,” Lita said. “Everett’s out of the office right now, but I’ll have him call you when he gets back.”

I thanked her and hung up. I went back out to the desk to see if Mary had any idea where Eddie and the other worker had gone. “They might be in the parking lot,” she said. “Will’s here.”

“He is?” I said. “Where?”

Mary gestured at the staging. “He was checking that when I was on the phone.”

The staging filled all the free space inside the front doors. Neither Will nor his crew was in evidence anymore. How could they have gone off and left it like that?

I threaded my way between the wall and the metal framework. The floor was damp in spots. I hoped it was because the sections of staging had been outside in the rain, not because there was another leak.

I tipped my head back to check the ceiling overhead. My foot skidded on the wet tiles and my shoulder banged into the metal frame.

“Kathleen, look out!” Mary called.

Startled, I put a hand against the wall just as a large roll of plastic fell from the top of the staging above my head.

13

Wave Hands Like a Cloud

The roll of plastic glanced off my shoulder and thudded to the floor, where it unrolled for several feet before hitting the circulation desk. The impact knocked me into one side of the staging and onto the floor. It also knocked the breath out of me. Wheezing, I clutched my shoulder.

Mary scrambled over the unraveled plastic and around the staging to get to me. I looked up at her, wide-eyed, mouth gaping like some kind of fish that had jumped too high and ended up on the shore. Mary used a swear word that I didn’t even think she knew. It was so out of character, I would have laughed if it hadn’t been for that pesky breathing thing.

“Kathleen, are you all right?” Mary asked, kneeling beside me.

I nodded, making squeaky sounds as I tried to get a full breath.

Larry appeared behind Mary. “Do you want me to call nine-one-one?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mary said.

I shook my head vigorously, which only made the wheezing squeaks sound worse. I was not going to the hospital, because if I did, I wouldn’t be here when Will Redfern came in from the parking lot or wherever he was. I wouldn’t be able to take a couple of swings at him with that three-foot roll of vapor barrier that had just whacked me on the shoulder. I closed my eyes for a second and had a Walter Mitty-esque moment, in which I imagined myself swinging the roll of plastic like I was Big Papi swinging for the stands, as I chased Will over the rock wall and down to the lake.

“Kathleen, you need to see a doctor,” Mary said.

“I . . . I’m . . . fine,” I managed to gasp.

“Mary’s right,” Larry said, pulling out his cell.

Without thinking I reached for the phone, grimacing as I moved my left shoulder.

“See?” Mary said.

I sighed, mentally, if not literally. Truth be told, I had a bit of a phobia about hospitals. When I was seven I’d gotten lost in an old hospital in Key West. My parents had been doing Alan Ayckbourn’s Table Manners . My dad had skidded on the edge of a rug during his entrance in act two. By the end of the play one side of his face was a gigantic bruise and his eye was swollen shut. We ended up at the emergency room, along with the rest of the cast, the stage manager and the young woman who worked the last shift at Dunkin’ Donuts and had a massive crush on the actor who played Tom.

In all the uproar, I went for a walk and got lost. Let’s just say that when you’re seven, it’s close to midnight and you’ve spent most of the evening hiding backstage with a big bag of cheese puffs, the sight of an artificial leg can scare the life out of you—or at least a lot of half-digested cheese puffs.

Larry flipped his phone open just as Roma came through the library doors. Mary caught sight of her at the same time I did and waved her over.

Roma knelt beside me on the tiled floor. “What happened?” she asked.

“That roll of plastic”—Mary pointed—“fell off the staging and hit her. She doesn’t want us to call an ambulance.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Roma said. She held up a hand. “Hang on a second and let me take a look.” She began to probe the back of my head with her fingers. “Kathleen, this is getting to be a habit and not a good one.”

“Not my head,” I wheezed, reaching for my right shoulder. “Hit my shoulder.”

Roma’s fingers moved down to my shoulder. “You had the wind knocked out of you, too,” she said. She laid the palm of one hand flat against the front of my shoulder, holding it steady, while her fingers felt around my shoulder blade and up along my neck. Then she took my arm and moved it slowly forward and back. “Does that hurt?” she asked.

I shook my head. She sat back on her heels and studied me. “You don’t need an ambulance,” she said.

Larry and Mary exchanged looks before he slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I was just about breathing normally again.

“It doesn’t look like anything is broken,” Roma said, lightly touching the top of my shoulder. “But I’d feel more confident saying that if you had four legs instead of two.” She extended a hand to help me up.

Larry took my other arm. He looked over at the unwound plastic and shook his head, his face tight with disgust. “That’s vapor barrier,” he muttered. “Why did they need that up there?”