We both went quiet. The laugh track from the television roared up again through the silence.
I finally wrangled up enough courage to ask her about my idea. I edged a bit closer to Vera. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Vera picked up the sugar canister and started to measure out another ingredient for the cake.
“What do you think would happen to Martha and Sam if Willie Jay wasn’t around while I was gone?”
I noticed a small tick of hesitation in Vera before she poured the last cup of sugar in the bowl with the flour. “I suspect Martha and Sammy would get along just fine. What you think?”
“I think they would too.”
Vera never looked up from the mixing bowl. “It might take a lot to get Willie Jay out that house though.”
I threw out the eggshells and returned to Vera’s side at the counter. “I guess it wouldn’t be so hard if I had some help.”
Vera pursed her lips together. “I imagine it wouldn’t. Hand me that vanilla extract.”
I handed her the small brown bottle. We both went quiet again.
Vera measured out the liquid into a separate bowl, tapped the measuring spoon against it, and handed the bottle back to me. “I suppose everybody could do with a little help now and then.”
Sam and I stayed at Vera’s until nightfall. She made pork chops with macaroni and cheese for Sam, and my favorite, grape Kool-Aid with lemons. I had two slices of cake after dinner. I’d never had cake that tasted so good.
Chapter 37
The drive back to Atlanta from Chillicothe gave me time to think, but it provided no clarity. It was after five o’clock and I’d been gone from the office all day. I finally pulled up my voice mails, all the calls I’d ignored during the day:
Juice: “Hey, Ellice. It’s Juice again. I want to make sure you’re okay. You need to call me. It’s the only way I’ll stop calling you.”
Anita: “Hi Ellice. It’s me, Anita. Jonathan’s looking for you. I told him you had an appointment outside the office. He wanted to know what time you’d be back. Just call me back when you can.”
Grace: “Hey, Ell. How’d the resignation go this morning. Are you outta that racist hellhole? Let’s go get a drink after work. I wanna hear how it all went. Call me. Bye.”
Willow: “Hey, Ellice, honey. This is Willow. Is everything okay? Jonathan just stormed out of my office. He said you left the office, and no one can reach you. I’m not sure what’s going on but call me. It’s urgent.”
Juice: “You know it’s me. Call because I’m persistent.”
Hardy: “Hey, Legal Lady, Rudy just told me about those shipments to Libertad. I’ll take care of it. In the meantime, give me a call when you can.”
Anita: “Ellice, it’s me again. Can you call me back? Both Jonathan and Nate are looking for you. Jonathan said something about he needed to hear from you by the close of business and you would know what it was about. Are you all right? Call me, okay? Bye.”
Anita: “Hey, Ellice, I’m leaving for the day. Jonathan came by again . . . for the third time. He said he still hadn’t heard from you and that he would just talk to Detective Bradford. He said you would know what they were going to discuss. Ellice, I hope everything’s okay. I’m worried. Okay. Bye.”
I clicked off the phone. And just like that, everyone wanted to make sure I was okay. Everyone wanted to talk to me. A week ago, I sat in a cold, cramped office with all my secrets. And now, I was locked in this hellish quagmire of blackmail and murder.
I had to get to Vera. I needed to see her, to just touch her, so that I would know everything was fine, that the world still made sense somehow. It was nearly six o’clock when I pulled up to the empty parking lot at the nursing home.
I opened the door to Vera’s room and was surprised to find her awake and sitting up in the Barcalounger.
“Ellie, baby, this is a pleasant surprise.” Her gray braids were wrapped and pinned across the top of her head. A golden-brown queen wearing her silver crown.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I was lost, but Vera was lucid. “I just wanted to see you, Vee.”
“Sit down, baby.”
I didn’t take off my coat or grab a nearby chair. Instead, I fell to my knees, dropped my head on Vera’s lap, and started to cry. Tears gushed from some deep pit of panic and dread inside me. And all of it rumbled out onto Vera’s fragile knees.
“Baby, you okay?” Vera gently stroked my hair, twirling my coils between her thin brown fingers. The old woman’s gentle touch unleashed more tears and a flood of guilt and regret I didn’t have the willpower to stop.