Delia Parr - Day By Day

Judy sighed with relief. Finally a name she knew. “Mrs. Booth was Candy’s sixth grade teacher. I didn’t realize she’d become a counselor. Of course, I’ll call her tomorrow morning.” She paused to moisten her lips. “What about the Division of Youth and Family Services?” she whispered, frightened that Brian might be taken from her and placed into foster care.

The nurse shook her head. “I’ll speak to the principal, but I don’t believe that will be necessary now. Not under the circumstances.”

Judy looked toward the door and back again. “What about Brian? Should I take him home? I had to close the salon to come here, but—”

“You can speak with him if you like. I know he’s still a bit confused about why his picture wasn’t hanging up with all the other children’s. I’m afraid he got a bit forceful with one of the other students, which is why his teacher, Miss Addison, sent him here. Just to cool down a bit.”

Judy shook her head and tried to reconcile the nurse’s description of Brian with what she had observed. Over the course of the summer, she and Brian had actually gotten to know one another for the first time. Now that he had filled out, his stocky frame was in perpetual motion, and he had the greatest dimple in each of his pudgy cheeks. At first, he had been wary of her, even untrusting. He seemed more comfortable with her and with his new surroundings now, although she noticed he did not gravitate toward men, especially large men. “He’s normally very agreeable. He can get withdrawn once in a while,” she admitted, “but he’s never highly agitated or pushy, even with the children in the neighborhood.”

“All the more reason for you to speak with the counselor. I’m sure she’ll have some ideas for you that could help. In the meantime, you can take Brian home if you want, although maybe it would be better if he rejoined his class. The teacher has already taken down all the other pictures,” she added.

“I’ll ask Brian, but he’ll probably want to stay,” Judy suggested. While the nurse called the front office to have Brian returned to the nurse’s office, Judy worried the strap on her purse. How she might be able to afford counseling for Brian when she scarcely made enough for the two of them now was a problem she would need to lift straight to the top of her prayer list, but she was certain about one thing. Brian would get all the help he needed, even if that meant taking a second or third job to pay for it.

By skipping lunch with Madge, after a brief, but evasive explanation and a promise to meet her at Barbara’s shop, Judy was back on schedule by one o’clock. She had a good forty-five minutes before she was due at Mrs. Schimpf’s apartment in the Towers to give her a haircut, and she turned down the cobblestone walkway onto Antiques Row toward Grandmother’s Kitchen with more than a slight hesitation to her steps.

It seemed like only yesterday when the lumberyard had been on this plot of land. Frank had come here to order the wood to build the fence that still protected the backyard of their home and the swing set he had made for Candy as a surprise for her fifth birthday. Judy made her way past the shops, scarcely four years old now, but designed to complement the vintage storefronts along the avenue.

Grandmother’s Kitchen was halfway down the row, and the foot traffic, even on a day as hot as this one, was light. Judy was so preoccupied with happier memories she nearly walked past the shop. Once inside, she paused for a moment to cool down in the air-conditioning and looked around. The shop was smaller than it appeared from the outside, perhaps no larger than fifteen by twenty feet, and the shine on the wooden floor was almost dazzling. Floor-to-ceiling shelves boasted dozens and dozens of rare china canister sets that were breathtaking, both in beauty and price. Protective velvet chains, like the ones used in movie theaters and museums, kept patrons at a safe distance. No problem there for Judy. If she saved her wages for a month of Sundays, she would never be able to afford a single item in this shop, and she held tight to the box from McAllister’s and her purse for fear of knocking something over.

Several small antique glass-and-oak display cabinets placed about the center of the room protected more canister sets for potential buyers to inspect at close range. Candles on top of the cabinets added the scent of summer roses to the air. There were no customers currently in the shop but Judy could hear voices coming from a back room, presumably Barbara’s office.

Uncertain how to proceed and anxious about the time, she was grateful for a sign that directed her to buzz for assistance. Within moments, Barbara emerged from the back room, and Judy saw for herself how deeply the woman had been affected by her son’s tragic murder.

Although still stylish, dressed in a pale pink linen suit and heels, Barbara had obviously been too grief-stricken by her son’s murder or too busy trying to raise her twin granddaughters to pay much attention to her hair, badly in need of a good trim and a touch-up. Sorrow had etched new lines across her forehead and down her cheeks, but it was the haunting look in her gaze as she drew close that nearly moved Judy to tears.

Poor Barbara. To lose a child so suddenly and so violently must be a heavy cross to bear. At least Judy could still pray for Candy’s recovery, but Barbara had no hope of ever seeing her beloved son again. Maybe she and Barbara could become friends, helping one another deal with their private pain as they each struggled to revert from their roles as grandmothers to become mothers again, despite the obvious differences in their backgrounds and circumstances. Perhaps grief, for a son lost forever and for a daughter lost to drugs, would be the bond that was strong enough to help them both.

When Judy stepped forward, eager to make a new friend, she tripped on the hem of her slacks. With her purse in one hand and the box of bakery goods in the other, she bumped into one of the glass display cases. Fortunately, the case was heavy enough to hold fast and keep her from falling, but her nudge had toppled the contents.

With her heart pounding over the sound of the china rattling in the display case, she closed her eyes, grateful to have kept her balance. Thoroughly embarrassed by her awkward entrance, she prayed nothing more than her pride had been cracked or broken.

B arbara took one step out of her office and froze. Helpless to prevent the inevitable, she watched near disaster unfold in motion slow enough that it appeared to defy time.

Cringing, she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. When all was quiet, she opened them and saw that Judy was still on her feet, though her face was flushed as she drew in deep gulps of air.

“Merciful heavens, are you all right?” Barbara managed as she rushed forward.

“I’m okay,” Judy insisted, looked over her shoulder at the display case and sighed. “Thankfully, I think your china is okay, too. I can’t believe I was so clumsy. I knew I should have hemmed these pants. I’m so, so sorry for bumping into the display case. I can’t even begin to imagine how long it would take me to repay you if I’ve broken anything.”

“Nonsense,” Barbara countered. “I have insurance to cover everything. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

Madge rushed up to join them. “Barbara? Judy? Are you two all right? I thought I heard—”

“I’m fine. Just totally and completely mortified. I tripped and bumped into the display case,” Judy responded. Holding tight to her purse and the box of baked goods, she turned and scanned the display case again. Smiling, she shook her head. “It doesn’t look like anything is broken. Maybe my day is taking a turn for the better after all. I was afraid this was going to be the grand finale to a day that went from bad to awful by noon!”