Ch1 Arrival
Mark McCormick pulled the Coyote into the driveway at Gulls Way and shut off the engine. He'd gotten to John Dalem's office at 5:30 pm, a full half hour late, despite the speeds he could get out of the Coyote on the open road. He'd considered not stopping at his POs office, but, he'd told Hardcastle that he would, so, even though he didn't believe there was any hope, he had trudged inside to see if Dalem was still there.
The outer office had been empty, so when he knocked on Dalem's door, he was surprised that Dalem opened it. The expression on Dalem's face was priceless. He'd looked truly stunned. Mark was glad he'd shown up just to see that expression. But what happened next, was incredible. Dalem had checked him in, then let him go. Without a question or even one word except hello and goodbye. McCormick couldn't be sure, but he thought that the judge must have called him and asked him to overlook any lateness. Dalem had never liked McCormick, and had probably been sure he wouldn't show up at all.
Mark sighed and climbed out of the Coyote. He was starving, and hoped he'd be able to find something to eat in the kitchen, so he started walking to the main house. One thing was for sure, he wanted to spend as little time in the gardener's trailer as possible. Sarah opened the door as he approached.
"I saved supper for you, I'll heat it up," she said in her usual efficient tone. Mark smiled, "Thanks Sarah, I'm starving." She pointed at the sink and he washed his hands obediently, then sat down. "So, were you successful?" Sarah asked while she worked.
She already knows, I bet Hardcastle called her too, he thought to himself. "Yeah, we nailed him."
"Good for you," she said as she put a plate of food in front of him, and her voice had a kinder tone to it.
"Thanks." The meal was one of the best he'd eaten in a long time. "Sarah, this is great," he said as he dug in enthusiastically.
"It's just meatloaf," she said in surprise.
"It seems great to me. I haven't had a home-cooked meal like this in" he paused uncertainly, "I guess I can't remember when." She narrowed her eyes and looked away for a second.
"Well, if you're staying, you'll get used to it." She thought of JJ Beale, the other resident ex -con, who was living in the Gatehouse. He'd thanked her often for the meals in the beginning, but, never with quite as much sincerity. And once he'd figured out that the meals came with living at the estate, he'd stopped thanking her, or making any sort of small talk at all. He would talk to His Honor about anything, but he hadn't said an unnecessary sentence to Sarah in several weeks now.
Mark finished the meal and carried his dishes to the sink and turned on the water.
"I'll wash them, you don't have to," Sarah began.
"You made the meal, it's only fair that I wash these few," Mark told her and kept at the task until everything was drying on the dish rack. Anything was better than going back to the gardener's trailer.
Sarah watched him, in shock, trying to figure out why he would do that. She decided to take the direct approach. "If you think the judge will go easy on you because you do your own dishes, or help out in the kitchen, you are sorely mistaken," she said in a harsh tone.
Mark was at a loss for words, he held up both hands, palms out, "hey, I just thought the dishes needed to get done," he said in a harsh tone of his own.
Silence.
"Look, it's been a long two days, I'll just go to bed," he said, getting control of his temper, then turned to leave.
Sarah watched him go. She thought that just maybe, she had overreacted. There had been so many ex-cons at the estate during the past 10 years and though most of them hadn't fooled her, there had been a few that she had allowed herself to like, only to find out that their actions and fine attitudes were all just a big scam. Even the ex-cons who had worked out, who had kept their noses clean and then moved on, hadn't been anything special in her mind. Still, there really was no cause to speak to this new one that way just because he washed his dishes. She sighed, it didn't really matter, he'd probably be gone soon anyway.
Mark walked to the gardener's trailer and reluctantly went inside. He stood in the center of the small house trailer and glanced around. It was nice, as trailers went, but there was something about the closeness of everything and the smallness of the windows, that reminded him of prison and just like on his first night here, he found that he didn't want to sleep inside.
