The only thing that had changed about Mathison family dinners over the years was that Mary Mathison preferred to use the dining room and treat these meals as special occasions, now that all three of her children were grown and had places of their own. The dinners themselves, however, hadn't changed; they were still an occasion for laughter and sharing, a time when problems were occasionally mentioned and solutions offered. Conversation passed around the dinner table along with platters of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and fresh vegetables. "How is construction going on the Addelson house?" Julie's father asked Carl as soon as they'd said grace.
"Not great. In fact, it's driving me crazy. The plumber connected the hot water to the cold water taps, the electrician connected the porch light to the switch above the disposal, so when you turn on the disposal, the porch light goes on—"
Normally, Julie was extremely sympathetic to the trials and tribulations of her brother's construction business, but at the moment, Carl's predicament struck her as more humorous than distressing. "Where did he put the switch for the disposal?" she teased.
"Herman connected that to the oven fan. He was in one of his 'moods' again. I honestly think he's so glad to have work that he deliberately messes it up so that he can make it last longer."
"In that case, you'd better make sure he didn't connect the line for the dryer to something else. I mean, it would be a shame if Mayor Addelson moved in, turned on the dryer, and blew up his built-in microwave ovens."
"This is not completely a joking matter, Julie. Mayor Addelson's attorney insisted on putting a penalty clause in the building contract. If I don't have his place finished by April, it could cost me $150 a day, unless there's an act of God that prevents it."
Julie struggled to keep her face straight, but remnants of laughter lingered in her eyes at the image of Mayor Addelson flipping the switch on his porch light and having his disposal roar to life instead. Besides being mayor, Edward Addelson owned the bank, the Ford dealership, and the hardware store, as well as much of the land that lay to the west of Keaton. Everyone in Keaton knew about Herman Henkleman; he was an electrician by trade, a bachelor by choice, and an eccentric by genetic heritage. Like his father, Herman lived alone in a tiny shack on the edge of town, worked when he pleased, sang when he drank, and expounded on history with a vocabulary and knowledge that would have done credit to a university professor when he was sober. "I don't think you have to worry about Mayor Addelson invoking a penalty clause," Julie said with amusement, "Herman definitely qualifies as an act of God. He's like hurricanes and earthquakes—unpredictable, uncontrollable. Everyone knows that."
Carl laughed then, a deep throaty chuckle. "You're right," he said. "If Mayor Addelson takes me to court, a local jury would rule in my favor."
The moment of silence that followed was filled with shared, if unspoken, understanding, then Carl sighed and said, "I don't know what got into him. When Herman's not in one of his 'moods,' he's the best electrician I've ever seen. I wanted to give him a chance to get back on his feet with some money in his pocket, and I figured he'd be okay."
"Mayor Addelson is not going to take you to court if you're a few days late with his house," Reverend Mathison put in, his lips curved in an appreciative smile as he helped himself to roast beef. "He's a fair man. He knows you're the best builder this side of Dallas and that you're giving him excellent value for his money."
"You're right," Carl agreed. "Let's talk about something more cheerful. Julie, you've been very evasive for weeks. Now come clean: Are you going to marry Greg or not?"
"Oh!" she said. "Well, I … we…" The whole family watched in amusement as she began to reposition the silverware beside her plate, then she carefully turned the bowl of mashed potatoes so the design was exactly in the center. Ted burst out laughing and she caught herself up short, flushing. Since childhood, whenever she felt uncertain or worried, she had a sudden compulsive need to straighten objects out and put them in perfect order, whether that "object" was her bedroom closet, her kitchen cabinets, or the tableware. She slanted them an embarrassed grin, "I think so. Someday."
She was still thinking so when the three of them were leaving the house and Herman Henkleman came walking up the sidewalk, hat in his hand, looking sheepish and apologetic. At seventy, he was tall and gaunt, but when he straightened his shoulders, as he did now, there was a dignity about him that invariably tugged at Julie's heart. "Evenin', everyone," he said to the group gathered on the front porch, then he turned to Carl and said, "I know I'm off the Addelson job, Carl, but I was hoping you'd just let me fix up the work I botched. That's all I ask. I don't want to be paid or nothing, but I let you down, and I'd like to make up for that, best as I can."
"Herman, I'm sorry, but I can't—"
The older man held up his hand, a long-fingered, surprisingly aristocratic hand. "Carl, ain't nobody but me who can figure out what all I screwed up there. I wasn't feelin' good for a whole week, only I didn't want to say nothing to you, because I was afraid you'd think I'm old and sickly and take me off the job. I'm not serious-sick, it was just the flu. Right now, your new electrician probably thinks he knows what all I did wrong, but if something shows up after you drywall that place, you'll be tearin' down walls a week after Addelson moves in. You know you can't switch electricians in the middle of a job without having trouble later."
Carl hesitated and Julie and Ted delicately gave him a chance to relent in privacy. After saying good-bye, they headed for Carl's Blazer.
"There's a blue norther headed for the Panhandle," Ted said, shivering a little in his light jacket. "If it starts snowing up there, you'll be glad you have four-wheel drive. I wish Carl didn't need his phone in his pickup. I'd feel better if he'd been able to leave it in the Blazer."
"I'll be fine," Julie promised cheerfully, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She watched him in the rearview mirror as she drove away. He stood on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, a tall, slender, attractive blond man with a cold, forlorn look on his face. It was the same expression she'd seen often since his divorce from Katherine Cahill. Katherine had been her best friend and still was even though she'd moved to Dallas now. Neither Katherine nor Ted spoke ill of the other to Julie, and she couldn't understand why two people she loved so much couldn't love each other. Shoving that depressing thought aside, Julie turned her mind to her trip to Amarillo tomorrow. She hoped it didn't snow.