Father Knows Death Part 6

"You big meanie."

"Where is our daughter, by the way?"

She studied the cone for a moment. "Who?"

"Our daughter."

"We have a daughter?"

"The pregnancy has finally eaten into your brain."

"If I wasn't so hungry, I'd smash this ice cream into your face," she said. "Relax. Your parents are here. They're spending ridiculous amounts of money on her at the games."

"My dad hates the fair."

"No, he doesn't. He pretends to hate the fair. But he truly loves his granddaughter. Some things trump other things."

That Julianne-ism about my father could not have been more true. He loved Carly more than just about anything else. It was going to be interesting to see how nuts he went over the new baby.

"So did you really yell at some old lady?"

I explained to her what occurred with Mama Biggs.

"I love how you promised to stay out of this," Julianne noted, arching an eyebrow over what was left of the cone.

"I'm not officially in it yet," I said weakly.

"Right," she said. She polished off the ice cream and began working on the waffle cone itself. "I'm sure Victor was over last night just to share recipes."

"Yes. For clam chowder. He loves clam chowder."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You better just make sure this in no way impacts the birth of your second child. Because if it does, you'll then be needing to ask Mama Biggs for a new place to live."

I reached for the hand that wasn't covered in ice cream. "Nothing will impact that."

"Oh, don't try to be all sweet and romantic with me," she said, wrinkling her nose. "You aren't carrying a small beast in your stomach."

"I know. You are. Thank you."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," she said, finis.h.i.+ng off the last bits of cone. She wadded up the napkin and tossed it at me.

I caught it in midair. "Can we talk about names?" I asked.

She stared at me, her eyes narrowed. "Yes. After the baby is born, I will tell you what his or her name is."

"That's not how it's supposed to work, Jules."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh, really? So you're telling me that after forty-two weeks of nausea, heartburn, indigestion, and cramping-and not to mention stretch marks and saggy b.o.o.bs that will never go away-I have to share naming the baby with you?"

Put that way, I wasn't sure I had any ground to stand on.

She nodded. "Yeah. That's what I thought. By the way, we're having s.e.x tonight."

"That's quite the seduction."

"I don't have time for seduction," she said. "I need this kid out of my stomach. The kid that I will name. p.r.o.nto. Having s.e.x with you is one way to make that happen."

I smirked. "Isn't that how we got here in the first place?"

"Shut up and come help me get up."

I helped her get herself turned around and into a standing position. She wobbled for a moment, her hands perched on her sides as she got her bearings.

"So, I know you're going to that meeting tonight, but you will be home in time to have relations with me this evening," she said. "That is an order."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Everything I've read says that's one way to pop an overdue kid out."

"So is induction," I reminded her.

She shook her head. "Seriously, Deuce. It's like you don't even know me. I am not being induced. I am having this baby naturally. Even if it kills me. Even if I have to have s.e.x with you when I'm eleventy weeks pregnant."

"What if it doesn't work?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Then I'll blame you."

13.

My father grinned at me in a way that I knew meant he was about to have fun at my expense. "Heard you've been making friends with Mama Biggs."

Julianne and my mom were walking Carly through one of the animal barns and he and I were sitting on a bench, watching the throngs of people stroll up and down the fairgrounds. A lot of them were complaining about the 4-H stand not having any food, while stuffing their faces with sugary confections and greasy fried concoctions.

"I'm not sure you'd call it friends," I said.

"No one's friends with that old codger," he said. "I'm surprised it wasn't her body you found in the freezer."

I ignored his sarcasm. "I think everyone's too afraid of her to do anything to her."

My dad nodded. "Probably so. She usually has everyone on their heels. Glad you put her in her place."

"Not sure anyone can really put her in her place."

"Just not taking her c.r.a.p in public was a good start," he said, still nodding. "I would've kicked your b.u.t.t if you'd let her knock you around."

"Not sure you can get your leg up that high anymore."

"For your b.u.t.t, I'd limber up."

I chuckled because I knew he probably would. "What's her deal anyway? She knows you."

"Oh, she knows everybody," my dad said.

"And everybody knows her, in the same way that everyone knows the town bully. They know her enough to stay away from her."

"How do you know her?"

He yawned and crossed his legs. "Good Lord, I don't even remember how I met her. Had to have been at the bank, years ago."

"Yeah. She immediately identified you as having worked at the bank."

He shrugged. "That will always be my ident.i.ty in Rose Petal."

That was true. He'd worked at the bank for most of his adult life, managing for almost thirty years before he retired. In a small town like Rose Petal, the bank was as much of a community hub as any other spot in town. He'd signed off on loans and mortgages for nearly everyone in Rose Petal. He'd opened accounts for nearly everyone born in Rose Petal. And anyone that needed a break financially? Well, he'd found a way to help them out, too. My dad didn't just live in Rose Petal. For a lot of people, he was Rose Petal.

"Can't recall what for, but I'm sure the first time I met her was there," he said. "Don't know why I would've had any other reason to a.s.sociate with her." He waved a hand in the air. "Anyway, she was always in and out, whining and complaining about how we handled her money. Most of it was nonsense and it got so that the tellers would run for the back when they saw her coming because they were so sick of her antics."

"Who dealt with her then?"

"Most of the time, it ended up being me," he said. "Anybody that was a known problem, I'd usually handle them. I didn't like putting my people in those situations. And she was a chronic pain in the rear."

Before I could ask my next question, Susan Blamunski sauntered up to us, a smile nearly as big as her hair spread across her face.

"Well, well," she said. "If it isn't two of Rose Petal's finest gentlemen. How are we today?"

"We are just fine, Susan," my father said.

I nodded in agreement.

"Excellent," she said. "And have we learned any more about what happened with George?"

"No, we have not," I said, wondering why we were using we all of a sudden.

"I heard you and your little partner were investigating," she said. "Certainly you know something by now."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss, Susan."

"I heard you and Mama had a bit of a showdown earlier," she said.

"You have tremendous hearing," my father said, chuckling.

Her cheeks flushed. "Oh, you know what I mean."

"I don't know anything, Susan," I said. "There's nothing to report to anyone."

"Hmm," she said, clearly unsatisfied with my answers. "Well, 4-H is certainly taking a beating with all of this. I'm trying to get an answer now as to whether or not we'll have a working freezer anytime soon."

"You'd probably best get that answer near the food stand, then," my father said, still smiling.

"I suppose you're right," she said, a thin smile on her brightly colored lips. "Have a good day, gentlemen."

She strode off in the same direction from which she'd arrived.

"That woman is nothing but a mouthful of gossip dressed up in poor makeup," my father observed.

"Back to Mama Biggs," I said. "At the bank. What did she used to complain about?"

"Anything and everything," he said, frowning. "She always had cash deposits and she was always afraid we were going to miscount it or something."

"Lots of cash?"

He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, a fair amount. No pun intended."

I watched a couple with twins in a stroller walk by, looking at the map, wondering where to go first. I wondered if Mama Biggs's cash deposits were a coincidence or if maybe she really had been stealing from the fair for years.

"What do you know that you're not telling me?" my father asked.

"Nothing, really."

"Baloney."

"I'm hearing things about her. And about the rest of the board, for that matter. Just makes me wonder."

My dad folded his arms across his chest. "Son, people have been saying it for years."

"Saying what?"

"That Mama pockets more than her fair share of the fair revenue," he said with a wink. "That is not some new story."

"You think it's true?"

He sort of shrugged, and pursed his lips. "I don't know. Probably. Where there's smoke, there's fire, and all of that."

"Why hasn't anyone ever looked into it?"

"Like who?" he asked, chuckling. "The entire board is made up of her family and her cronies. And, truth be told, the revenue generated by the fair isn't huge, so I'm not sure anyone ever had a reason to stick their nose into it."

I glanced around. The fair drew people from not only Rose Petal but the surrounding towns, as well. It was busy for the entire week. It was an inst.i.tution, so I had a hard time believing it didn't bring in a good amount of money. I understood what my father was saying, but I didn't think it made it any less wrong. If Mama Biggs or anyone else in her family was taking money from the fair, it was time to stop it.

"What's the board selection process?" I asked.

My dad stretched his arms and stood. "Honestly, I don't know. She and her family have run it for so long, I don't think anyone's thought about that for a while." He made a face and raised an eyebrow at me. "And before you start poking around, know this. Running the fair isn't exactly an easy thing to do and no one's been clamoring for that job. Everyone has been pretty happy letting her run it. She may be a huge pain in the rear, but she's also done a pretty good job of pulling this thing off every year for as long as I can remember."