Mary White - The Qualities of Wood

Vivian opened her eyes. The sun glared through her sunglasses.

Katherine moved over, blocking the light. ‘I thought that was you. I drove by a minute ago.’

‘None of the stores were open,’ Vivian said. ‘I thought I’d read the paper and enjoy the sun a little.’

‘I keep telling Max that we should open later like everyone else, but some people like to drop off their cleaning on the way to work.’ She looked up at the sky. ‘Feels like another hot one, doesn’t it? July is going out with a bang, I swear.’

They walked across the plaza, over the jagged shadow of William Clement and horse.

Katherine said, ‘This place has a great salad bar, and it should be pretty fresh since we’ll get there before the lunch crowd.’

Vivian looked up and down the streets, which were clear but beginning to show a few sporadic signs of life. She couldn’t imagine any type of crowd anywhere on this street, lunchtime or otherwise. There was a pregnant stillness, like a suspenseful movie. Any moment, a mad gunman would burst from the bank or someone would scream and fall from the top of a building.

‘Those kids were a handful today,’ Katherine said.

‘What grade?’

‘Third. Eight and nine years old. They’re hard to handle during the summer. It’s like the heat gets to their little brains.’ She laughed, pleased with herself. ‘What did you think of that storm?’

‘Windy, wasn’t it? I filled a trash bag with leaves and branches.’

Katherine grabbed Vivian’s upper arm. ‘I still can’t believe it. One of the teachers at the school heard that Chanelle had been missing for almost three weeks. She has a friend who knows Kitty.’

‘Kitty?’

‘Mrs Brodie, Chanelle’s mother. Her name is Katlyn but she’s always gone by Kitty.’ She made a clicking sound with her tongue. ‘She had a hard time raising that child alone. Chanelle was a magnet for trouble.’

‘More trouble than most teenagers?’ Vivian asked.

‘That’s a good question. It’s been so long since I was one myself.’

They were seated at a table on the restaurant’s patio, and when they were comfortable with iced teas, Katherine resumed the conversation. ‘Chanelle was a very pretty girl and arrogant about it. I think it’s a special time, and a dangerous one, when a young girl discovers her sex appeal. Don’t you?’

Vivian flushed slightly. ‘I guess.’

‘She had a way about her. Arrogant, but sad. She wasn’t going to let anybody tell her anything.’

‘Did she have brothers or sisters?’

Katherine shook her head as she sipped from her straw. ‘Kitty had her real young, in high school.’ She set her glass down. ‘You should know that in a small town, everybody goes to the same school and knows everybody’s business. I swear, it’s almost intimidating sometimes, knowing you can never get away from yourself. You can never change, not really. People are always reminding you who you are.’

Vivian hadn’t lived in her hometown since she moved away to college. She hadn’t ever thought of it in those terms, but she did like the anonymity of the city. ‘Were you and Kitty friends in high school?’ she asked.

‘No. She was a year back, and hung around a different crowd.’

Vivian smiled. ‘Let me guess. She was a cheerleader and you were a diligent student.’

Katherine chuckled. ‘Something like that. She never was a cheerleader, but boy, she wanted to be. She pestered the in-crowd until they had to let her in. She was very pretty. Still is.’

‘So that’s where Chanelle got her looks.’

Something passed over Katherine’s face. Vivian thought that maybe it hurt her feelings, remembering how she and Kitty differed in high school.

‘I see kids around here,’ Katherine said, ‘well, they have no fear. I’ve seen Chanelle riding around at night, six or seven of them in the back of a truck. Cruising up and down the main street, trying to make something happen.’

‘The street with the statue of William Clement?’

‘Yea.’ Katherine paused. ‘I can’t explain it, but they act like they own the town. I was never completely fearless, even at my worst.’

Vivian envisioned the circular plaza surrounding the statue of Clement. ‘That’s probably the turn-around point,’ she said, ‘where the statue is.’

‘You sound like someone who’s done some cruising yourself.’

Vivian shrugged. ‘Maybe once or twice.’

‘There’s something else.’ Katherine lowered her voice. ‘About a year ago, Chanelle and two local boys got arrested for stealing a car from the mini-mall parking lot. They were raging drunk too. Lucky for them, Sheriff Townsend is an old friend of Kitty’s father. They all got bailed out and the charges were eventually dropped. I think they got some kind of probation.’

‘What about the owner of the car?’

‘She used to work for the sheriff when he owned his construction company.’ She winked. ‘Everything worked out.’

Their salads arrived and for a few moments, they ate in silence.

Katherine sighed. ‘I think Chanelle had a lot of boyfriends, that sort of thing. Pretty much like her mother in that way. But she was still in school. She could have done something with her life, especially with that stubborn streak. Life takes perseverance, doesn’t it? It’s a real shame.’

Vivian set her fork down. ‘I saw the story in The Sentinel.’

‘You know,’ Katherine said. ‘It doesn’t give the exact location. People won’t know it was near your place.’

‘Do you think they’ll want to leave flowers at the site or something?’

‘No, I just thought you wouldn’t want people bothering you.’

‘People? What people?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘They can come over and look if they want to,’ Vivian said. ‘Why? Do people think that we know something, do they…’

Katherine waved her hand, bracelets sounding an alarm. ‘Oh, no, no, no. There are all types, that’s all. The curious, the downright nosy.’

Vivian hadn’t once imagined the possible implications of the girl being found on their property. She had been thinking only of their safety.

‘The man who owns this little cafe is so nice,’ Katherine told her. ‘His father designed the fire station, and the county office addition…’ As she talked, Vivian stayed alone in her thoughts, which weren’t about office additions or salads but instead were vivid contemplations about Chanelle Brodie and the nature of her final moments.

When Vivian came in, Nowell was on the telephone, speaking patiently into the receiver, which was propped between his shoulder and ear. ‘I can’t tell you anything until I speak to him. What’s his name again?’ He paced the room, very intent on the conversation, pausing only to give her a brief nod. ‘Richards or Richardson? I’ve got it. And his number?’

The curtain divider to Nowell’s study had been pulled back. Through the window, the back lawn was a vivid, monochrome green. Vivian noticed an empty plate and a fork on the end table near the couch. She stepped down into the room to get them.

‘I’ll call him today or maybe first thing tomorrow. What are you doing? No, not you. Viv, what are you doing?’

She turned with the plate in her hands to show him.

‘Mom, they can’t do that. No, I will call Richards, or is it Richardson? I’ll call him. You just wait to hear from me. I’ll let you know what I find out.’

Vivian set the plate and fork in the sink then walked down the hallway toward their bedroom.

Nowell came in as she was adjusting the straps of her bikini. ‘You’re going outside?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘My mom said she’d call to talk to you later this week. She’s too upset today.’