South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [53]
Madeline nodded, not wanting to speak and expose any further her now ridiculous-seeming sense of outrage at his plight. “If you change your mind—”
“I already got a guy wants to buy the place, he’s been nosing around for a while.”
“All right.” Madeline stood, feeling a great sense of futility. How foolish she was to feel so involved. She couldn’t help and he didn’t even care for her to try.
“Thank you, Madeline,” Emil said as she was opening the door. She stopped short. It was the first time he’d ever said her name. “It was real decent of you to offer.”
“You’re welcome.”
He nodded, his bright eyes seeming to gauge her. “Been meaning to tell ya, I always liked your grandpa. Didn’t know him real good but I liked what I knew. He was good to work alongside of. Never slacked off like some fellas. And he could make that fiddle sing. Helped pass the time in camp that way.”
She stared at him. “Thank you.”
He nodded. She made her way down the steps and got back in her car. She felt too Unsettled to head straight back to Bessel Street. She’d go see Mary. There would still be time to swing by the house and get to Garceau’s on time.
Mary was outside, gathering kindling. It was a long winter coming Up, she said. She didn’t move so fast anymore and had to have the shed full by the first of October. Madeline picked Up a branch and broke it into lengths. “Emil’s crazy,” she told Mary sadly. “He shouldn’t give Up.”
Mary laughed. “Crazy like a fox,” she said and then cried out, “Jack!” Jack came trotting back from the edge of the clearing.
“What do you mean?”
“You think they want him in them apartments in town?”
“He said he has some friends there.”
“Oh yeah, sure, Donny Lunt and Bill Johnson, coupla others maybe. But I mean the bulk of them. You think those old ladies Up there are going to let Emil Sainio bring his hunting dog and coonskins in to their nice new building? They gonna let him fix his chain saws in the common room in front of the flat-screen TV? Can you see him throwing his clothes in the same washer as Edith Baxter?” She gave her rasping laugh again. “Not a chance. Smartest thing he ever did.”
“So you mean—”
“I mean he beat ’em at their own game. Hit ’em head-on, it’s the only way. He knows they don’t want him there. And legally they can’t refuse him, he qualifies every which way you look at it.”
“But Gladys said they want to put him down in Crosscut at some home.”
Mary tapped her head. “That home’s not for the likes of Emil. It’s fine for some, but—well. Emil drinks but he’s not feebleminded. They can’t have him committed no matter how they try. That’s just talk. A thing like that’d be out of their ballpark. Emil’s no crazier than anyone and it’ll take more than the zoning board to prove otherwise.”
Madeline’s hands were pleased by the heft of the next branch she picked Up: dry and solid. It gave a sharp snap when she broke it over her knee. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am. Them old biddies’ll put a stop to it all, you watch. Emil don’t really believe in taking a bath much more’n once a month, if that. Heh!” Mary seemed truly delighted by the whole debacle. “They’ll go petition that board to leave him alone, that’s what. They’ll raise all kinds of holy Hell and get that eviction stopped cold. Tracy York’s Great-aunt Mirtha lives in that complex. She’ll twist Tracy’s arm Until she says ‘Uncle,’ that’s nothing, Tracy’s got the spine of a worm when you come right down to it.”
“You really think so?” Madeline was skeptical. How could a bunch of old women too poor to own their own homes stop anything?
“Them old ladies in there is powerful, you watch,” Mary said, as if she could read Madeline’s mind. “I know Gladys whines and cries about the good old days, everything’s changing, nothing’s right anymore, but this