A/N: Extra long note today... So, I sat down to write tonight after a not great day, and here I was thinking, maybe this is silly, no one is even reading this, also wtf am I going to do with this Bill business? And then I got an alert that said, 'Oh, this story was recommended to me on a blog! I like it,' and that was just timely and lovely. I'm looking at you, Northwoman and gobiascoffee, and really, everyone who's taken the time to review. I do not reply to all of them, as peppermintyrose noted, it quickly becomes a back and forth of thank you, no, thank you, so I tend to keep it to ones that ask questions or make observations that I feel could use a response - but I do genuinely appreciate each of them. I hope that doesn't come across as pandering, just an honest and general no, thank YOU.
As another aside, a couple of people have mentioned kindly that the synopsis for this story is not terrific. If anyone's got some keen summarizing talents, please feel free to PM me!
The Konami Code is a video game cheat. Okay, on with it!
I kept myself busy on Tuesday morning by cooking a roast with potatoes and by planting my vegetable seeds in their little plastic trays. It was probably too late in the year already for me to expect much, but we'll see. When Jason arrived for lunch, I served us up hot roast beef sandwiches with horseradish and he ate until he was full, letting me know that I needed to share my recipe with Crystal. She would need to add it to her wifely repertoire, he joked. Actually, I was fairly certain he was serious, but I was equally certain that her momma would have taught her how to cook a roast. It's not like it was exactly difficult, and of course the horseradish covers the multitude of sins. The knock on the front door came a bit after two, and a young woman in a wild outfit was standing on my front porch with clipboard and a manila envelope propped up on a small box. She reminded me a little of a bike messenger, with that athletic, punky look about her.
"Hi, are you the courier from Mister Cataliades' office?" I ask as I answer the door. Who else would she be Sookie, really?
"Yes ma'am, Diantha," she offers, introducing herself. "Are you Sookie Stackhouse?"
"I am," I nod.
"Cute name. Sign here please," she says, offering me a clipboard, and pointing to a line halfway down the page.
I took and I signed. "Did you drive up from New Orleans this morning?" I asked her as I handed her clipboard back. She handed me the box and the envelope.
"Yeah. Gotta head back now. Do you know anywhere good to eat around here?"
I smiled, and I told her to wait right there, and then I went and got the little sack lunch I'd packed up for her. I explained that I hadn't known who was coming but I figured they would be hungry. She took the bag but stared at me, puzzled, as I chattered on at her. Finally she shrugged her thanks at me and left. Odd little girl.
After she left I glared at the box. It had been shipped from Arkansas, and was addressed to me, care of Desmond Cataliades, at his office address. I carried it to the kitchen table and while I tried to concern myself with the envelope first. I didn't really get further than pulling the sheaf of papers from it before I was fumbling around in the all-purpose drawer looking for the scissors. The box contained a folded letter, a further envelope, and the engagement ring box that I had last seen in Bill's safe. I opened it, briefly. Yup. The ring was in there.
I read the letter. It had been written on the day Sten Northman died.
April 30, 2012
Dear Sookie,
After speaking with my attorney, we have decided that it is in the best interests of all that we make strides toward achieving an amicable conclusion regarding the unfortunate accident which occurred on March 23. As such, the attorney representing you has been presented with a formal settlement offer, precluding your use of further litigation. The details of this will doubtless be conveyed to you by him. I admit my surprise that you have retained counsel.
Enclosed, please find the ring I had one day hoped to present you, as well as the gift I would have made you on our marriage. Since I have no intention of suffering the indignation of returning an engagement ring, it is yours. The gift was to be the property adjacent to your family home in Bon Temps, including the plantation home and approximately sixty acres of surrounding woodland. This was purchased in your name prior to our move to Seattle. It had been my hope to renovate the property to serve as the proper country estate that you desired. Since you are the legal owner, I am left with no choice but to present you with the deed.
There is little to say regarding the end of our personal relationship. Having known you for these past three years as one of the increasingly rare breed of true Southern Belles, my belief remains, as it always has, that I acted in your best interests throughout our relationship. I endeavoured to cater to your whims where reasonable, and kept from your sight only those things which would cause you unnecessary distress. As you have forbidden me to speak of my indiscretion, I will simply acknowledge the regrettable night you had the misfortune to interrupt as a weakness in my character. My history with Lorena Ball is not one I ever intended to discuss with you.
It remains my hope that I have not been mistaken in your disposition, that you have not grown so vindictive or exploitive, that you would seek to bring me to ruin. I was shocked to read the full accounting of the injuries you sustained in the accident. I certainly would not have left you without medical attention if I had realized the extent of damage to your person. I encourage you to discuss with your counsellor the ample and fair offer that I make to you. I can only trust in the goodness of the woman I have known, and that she will do the right thing.
Sincerely,
William Compton
I set the letter down on the table. I opened the second envelope and it was in fact a property deed to the old Loudermilk property next door. The new Stackhouse property, apparently, because there was my name printed right on top. Good grief. Or as Amelia would say, "Bullshit." I breathed a heavy sigh and sat myself down. My phone rang, and I let it kick to voicemail. I felt like the natural response should be to shriek and throw things, but I was just dumbfounded. Just to be sure, I checked the box, but there was nothing else in there.
It was still the middle of the afternoon, and I figured that Amelia and Lafayette would be both busy and unhelpful. They would also shriek and want to throw things. If Amelia was at her construction site, that could be very dangerous, so better not. Mainly, and I checked myself thoroughly to be sure, I was decidedly not freaking out. The tone of the letter was very careful, I'd noticed. Everything except the fact that I'd witnessed him screwing his evidently ex-wife in our bed had been written in the passive voice, because it just mysteriously happened that my ribs and my nose got broken in his vicinity. And the months and months of repeatedly lying to me? Well he was just protecting and preserving my delicate sensibilities. I figured the wording had been all deliberate in case I rejected his offer. The offer in itself seemed to be an admission of guilt as far as I was concerned. He could certainly afford to, and clearly had no moral objections about, being a spiteful liar in for the long term, if he was so determined.
Speaking of things he could afford, I looked at the deed again. I set the engagement ring box down on top of it and pushed it to the side. I called Mr. Cataliades. I read him the letter, and he agreed with me about the phrasing. He said the ring had been Bill's choice to give me or not, but that he was obligated to present me with the property deed. The way he'd written that had sounded begrudging, so I figured this was spot on. I wondered instantly about the tax. Cataliades told me that he'd look into the matter for me. I guess I was vaguely aware that property could be purchased for another person; if parents wanted to give their newlywed children a house, for example. I'd had no idea Bill had done this, but I guess I'd had no idea about a lot of things Bill had done. I was surprised, I wasn't that surprised.
The lawyer asked me if I'd had time to review the documents and make a decision. I hadn't yet, but my only concern on that score at the moment was lifting the restraining order. This was part and parcel with the whole deal, so I'd need to be prepared to do that. We hung up after he said he would contact me again once he'd located the bill of sale for the property. He asked me to mail him a copy of Bill's letter, just to add to his files. I must have sat there for a long while because my phone rang again, and it was the same number as before. Mrs. Park was asking me in tomorrow for another day of subbing. Maybe they wouldn't mind if I used the photocopier. If they did, I could probably just stop by the library on my way home.
That evening I picked at some remnants of my lunch and totalled up my parting gifts from Bill. Thirty-two thousand dollars, plus the full cost of my medical bills, which would do a little bit to replenish what was quickly becoming my pitiful personal savings, as I'd already paid some out. The diamond in the ring was probably worth a lot. I would see about selling that. I certainly didn't intend on keeping it. The property had to be worth, oh, a couple hundred thousand dollars at least. I didn't really know real estate. I guess I'd have to wait to hear. Maybe I could find it online. What the heck was I going to do with some decrepit old plantation house? The ridiculous thing, of course, was that it was Gran's home that I loved, not the idea of a, what was it? A country estate. Tscha. That was more Bill, than me. What had he intended, that we weekend up at the big house and look down over Gran's across the cemetery? Ass. Right royal horse's ass.
I was ready to be over it, and over him. I'd call tomorrow to schedule my appointment at the lawyer's office next week. When it got late enough, I called Lafayette as I'd promised I would. His reaction turned out to be much like mine. The surprise was there, but without the shock and screeching I'd expected.
"What do you think you'll do with the property then?" he asked, sounding subdued.
"I don't know. It's just sat there unlived in for as long as I can remember. I guess thinking of it, I did know it was up for sale. I remember Gran getting all in a tizzy years ago about the possibility of new neighbours, but nothing ever came of it. I don't even know if the house is safe to enter at this point."
"Well they say real estate is always a good investment to have, right?" The English Professor and the Maths Teacher. Yeah, we totally knew what we were talking about.
"I guess they do. I don't know if they were talking about for a single gal on a teacher's salary, well, a substitute teacher's salary at this point."
"Talk to Broadway," he advises.
"Yes," I agree. "Maybe she'll have ideas, or at least...oh I don't know," I lament.
"Seems like a textbook case of mo' money, mo' problems," he observes in a droll little voice.
"Funny," I reply dully. "I'll call her tomorrow, it's getting late here and she'll be all, loud."
He chuckles at that. "And that ugly-ass ring?" he asks.
"Sell it I guess?" I say. "How the heck do you sell a diamond ring anyway?"
"I don't know. Ebay?" he suggests.
"I think I'll see if I can find a jeweller down in town. I guess I should have it appraised either way."
"You take Amelia with you for that," he says firmly.
"Why?" I ask.
"Honey, you don't want to be wandering around alone subjecting yo'self to all them strange, pitying stares as you try to hock an engagement ring."
"Ugh," I shudder at the thought.
"Has to be done though," he says.
"Yes," I sigh heavily.
"You're going to sign all he wants you to sign then?" Laf asks.
"Yes," I agree, again. "I just want this to be over. I am sick of thinking of him and having this all lingering in the background."
"That's good, Sook. You's got a life to move on to. Any word from New Orleans?"
"Got another interview next week," I say, trying to sound hopeful. St. Francis is not my first choice, nor even in my top ten.
"You just gotta keep going. You're fabulous, they'll see it."
"Yes, I am, aren't I," I agree, straining to brighten.
"Girl, you know you is," he says smoothly.
"I love you, Lafayette," I say, all sincerity.
"I love you too, Sookie," he says right back.
We say goodnight then, and I decide to turn in early. I didn't remember my dreams, but I woke up before my alarm the following morning feeling content. I ran through my usual morning routine and made it up to the school early. Mrs. Park said I could go right ahead and use the Xerox machine for just a couple of pages, so I went and made copies of the letter and the deed. The day went quickly and that afternoon I stopped at the Walmart and bought a fire safe. They're not terribly secure, but it had occurred to me that I was amassing quite a collection of important documents and God forbid something should happen, I didn't want them just lying around in a drawer.
For its small size, the thing was incredibly heavy. After lugging it to the car I drove to the Pack and Ship and sent copies of the documents down to Cataliades, and then I called his office to set up my appointment for next Wednesday. I didn't speak to the lawyer personally but I let them know to expect what I'd sent, as well. For good measure I sent a message to Amelia letting her know I had some news, and asking when would be the best time to call that night.
She called me back immediately, demanding my news, and she at least, did not let me down. It was the high-pitched, high-volume condemnation of my ex-boyfriend that I'd expected. It filled the Rabbit as I put her on speaker phone and drove home. Once I got there I had the chore of trying to manage the phone and my bag and the safe into the house as we chatted all the while.
"So what do you think you'll do?" she asks, finally winding down.
"With the property? Actually I was hoping you'd have a suggestion, it seems more your in your bailiwick than mine."
"Well I'd have to see it I guess," she says, immediately adopting a businesslike tone.
"Do you think you could some weekend?" I ask her. "I'll totally pay for you gas and whatever," I offer quickly.
"Psh. Of course," she says. "Not this weekend, but the one after?" she asks.
"That sounds perfect," I agree. "Oh and is it okay if I stay next Tuesday night?" I ask.
"Hmm," she says. Oh.
"Ah, it's no big deal Amelia, I can stay at a hotel."
"I'm sorry," she says apologetically. "I've just been having a lot of ...company...lately. We can go to her place, it's not a big deal," she finishes hurriedly.
"What? Of course not Amelia, I'm not going to put you out of your own apartment." Her place, huh? That's what I was actually thinking. It's been mostly men with Amelia for a while now, apart from the odd one-night adventure.
"It's not that," she says quickly. "I'm just not ready to do the whole, meeting each other's people thing, yet. I don't want to jinx it."
"Jinx it?" I ask sweetly. "Why Miss Broadway, have you been getting up to monogamy?" I tease, affecting a horrified tone.
"Maybe," she answers, and I can hear her smile.
"And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" I ask.
"Because you've been so busy, and I've been uh, busy..." she trails off.
"My my my," I say imperiously. "It seems love is in the air this lovely month of May. Lafayette might be bringing a man home to meet us in a couple months, too."
"Rasul?" she asks. "Yeah, I've talked to him, he sounds adorable," she says, trying to change the subject.
"Hmph," I say. I didn't get to talk to Rasul. "Well, this could be a first if we're all happily paired up at the same time." The last time Amelia and Lafayette had had simultaneous significant others was pre-Bill, when Amelia had tried her hand at dating a basketball player, and Laf was seeing the clothes-bleacher. Neither of them had ever shown huge interest in steady dating on the whole. I was the settle-downer. They loved to put emphasis on the downer bit of that every time I wouldn't go out cruising with them.
"Speaking of," she asks. "How's Eric?"
"He's good," I say. "He sent me a million roses," I say dreamily, looking over at them on the table. I'd put a little lace covering down before I set the vase upon it.
"Just 'cause, or had he done something wrong?" she asks astutely.
"Just 'cause," I say. "Well, we had a little bit of a tiff before I left him Sunday, but we made up right away."
"Uh-huh, so what, he quietened you down with sex?" she asks sceptically.
"What? No. Well, I mean, we did have...but no, it wasn't like that. We just...like to do...that...a lot. It was coincidental."
"Please, you have a weakness for cock that is more exploitable than the Konami Code."
"I...what?"
"Sookie," she says seriously.
"Amelia?" I ask, confused. What the heck is a Konami Code?
"Whenever you used to talk about little problems with Bill, you would always finish with that adorable little, 'and then we fucked' blush of yours. Your stories never ended with, 'And then we talked it out and came to a reasonable conclusion,'" she says. "You sound like you're smitten, and that's great. If he's good, and it sounds like in general he's pretty good, then that's...good. But I don't... I'm just not going to not-say something now that I always felt like I should have said, before," she finishes.
"Amelia," I begin, without knowing how I'm going to finish.
"Sookie," she interrupts. "I'm sorry. Maybe that's out of line for me to say, but I'm going to claim 'being a friend' on this one. Because it turned out that you and Bill had communication issues up the wazoo, and that's putting it mildly. I just don't want to see you start something new, and allow someone else to take advantage of your trusting nature. Because I'm sorry to say, but clearly not every guy's silence on a subject means he's taking your best interests into heart."
"Amelia, it was just a tiff, and I did speak my peace, which is mainly what started it anyway."
"No, don't do that either. I know you Sookie, and it takes more than a little provocation to get you to speak your peace, because when you finally do, it's because you're so annoyed you can't contain it."
This is the problem with best friends. They know you so well it can be almost painful to hear at times. I'd been so annoyed by the way Eric assumed I would present myself to be at his beck and call that I'd snapped at him, and brought up the family stuff that I knew would just make him as angry as I'd been right in that moment.
"You're right," I sigh.
"I'm not saying it to be right," she says.
"No, I know. And thank you. I'll try to remember it, it's just sometimes hard."
"Yeah, I think that's what I said was the problem," she says with a smirk. Yeah, yeah, hard penises. Take my friend - please. "So, when do I get to meet this guy anyway? I can't believe he's been to Bon Temps and hung out with Jason and I've never even set eyes on him," she says. I appreciate it. She's being encouraging about me and Eric despite her warnings.
"Actually, I was just telling him that I wanted to get you guys together. You know he's going to be running the Northman Group now, or soon, anyway. I thought maybe, I don't know, you and he might have stuff to discuss. I know the scale is more your father's thing, but he has avoided it almost entirely. I get the impression that he very deliberately never got a clue about the whole business and now he's just swamped in it."
"That'd be interesting, sure," she agrees. "Next time you're both down here then?" she asks.
I agree to that and before much longer we say our goodbyes. I loaded up my new safe with all my important documents and slid it under the bed. The bed. I felt momentarily pleased that my savings account would soon be fortified and I could actually see about getting a new one for in here, and then I immediately felt weird about that, about spending Bill's money on a shopping spree. I shook it off. Nope, I was going to stay in a good mood. I cleaned my bathroom. Hey, we all have our ways of clearing our heads. Later that night, I remembered that I had to make arrangements for a hotel to stay at Tuesday night. I was definitely not going to try to get up in the middle of the night and arrive for my interview next week looking exactly like I'd just had a long car ride, and furthermore, I was not going to put Amelia out of her own house.
I thought of staying at Eric's hotel, which I'd so often frequented lately, but I wasn't sure if it would be odd, or if it was worth spending so much just for an overnight stay. I wished he'd still be in town then, so I could stay with him. Not just for the lodging, obviously. We hadn't talked the day before, nor done much more than say goodnight on Monday evening. His spider senses must have been tingling because he called me then.
"Was your nose itching?" I answer.
"Pardon?" he asks.
"I was just thinking of you," I say.
"Naughty things, I hope," he says.
"Maybe," I say. Not naughty, but you know, let him think so. "How's it been going?" I ask.
"Well, I think. Peter's being difficult, but it's almost comically obvious that it's just to delay the process so he can get up to whatever schemes he's working on. Every meeting with him feels like an exhibition on the subject of dramatic irony."
"Ever gonna tell me about that?" I ask.
"All in good time, my pretty," he says. Wizard of Oz Eric? God, you're adorable.
"And the rest?"
He sighs. "It's okay. I gave them Monday, and they've assured me they can hold down the fort for a few weeks, so that is good. I'm meeting with Sophie Ann next Monday to discuss my plans. I'm heading back up Friday night," he says.
I regretted that I definitely wouldn't see him before he went back, but decided against commenting on that since he's already made it clear he was of the same mind on Sunday. So instead I told him about the forthcoming conclusion of the Bill fiasco, including my surprise 'presents'.
"Is that the going rate for a Sookie?" he asks. "Three carats and sixty acres?"
"Apparently," I say dryly. Actually, a little ouch there.
"I will enjoy firing him a second time."
I laughed at that. "Eric, you don't have to do that."
"Not to downplay my gallantry on the subject, but it won't be for you. It'll be the way he and Lorena left Area Five. And you may not be suing him, which, fine, that's your choice, though you certainly could if you wanted to, but we most assuredly are."
"I guess maybe that explains the change of heart on the settlement he's offering now."
"Could be. He's certainly in it up to his neck at the moment."
"I can't say I feel too bad for him," I admit.
"And you shouldn't. And you should equally feel just fine about taking whatever it is he's giving or returning or whatever it is, to you."
"It's odd though."
"Understandable. So I talked to Pam," he says.
"Yes?"
"She's going to stay with me, and leave Area Five when I do."
I smile at that. "I'm glad. You need her!"
He laughs, "True. You should give her a call sometime. She was complaining."
"Something about Backwater Barbie and her making fun of my dream house, I'm sure."
I hear him stifle a snigger. "Yes, something very much along those lines. So, what are you up to tonight?"
"Checking out your competition," I say, and then explain about Amelia's secret lover and how I refuse to impose upon her next week.
"Ah, market research, yes," he confirms. "That'll be fun, actually."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, well I guess I thought at some point that I would try staying at other comparable places in the cities where they...where I...own properties. And then seeing if we're missing anything or if they do things better."
"That does sound fun," I agree. That was a completely unprompted positive thing that he said about his new job. Yay!
"Maybe you will help with that. I am given to understand you have a discerning eye about shower facilities. And of course beds. I will definitely need a second opinion on these things," he says, putting a little sexy into his voice, you know, in case I missed his utterly unsubtle hint about testing the beds. Sometimes, I want to remind that man that he's a blonde too!
I laugh. "Well I'll have to check my schedule," I say. "Let me know when you plan your first excursion."
He agrees, and we talk for a bit more before saying goodnight. I was teaching again on the following day and spent most of my lunch break chatting with Maryelizabeth Norris. We made plans to get together on Saturday with Holly Cleary, Crystal herself, and another of Crystal's apparently many cousins to get started on wedding planning. She was aiming for the Fourth of July. She felt it was a brilliant idea because there would always be a party on their anniversary, and everyone would feel like celebrating. That sounded nice. Right before my lunch period ended I got another phone call with some wonderful news. I hardly had time to wrap it up before the bell was ringing and I had to race from the faculty room back up to the Earth Sciences classroom. I was giddy and the clicky click of my shoes as I skirted past lollygagging students before I, myself was late, made me grin.
I made it through the door just before the bell and my class laughed as I made an exaggerated gesture out of wiping my hand across my forehead in relief. I called attendance, unable to hide my cheer. The students noticed.
"Miss Stackhouse, why are you so smiley today?"
"Am I not always smiley Mister Turner?" I asked back. I like to think I had garnered a quick reputation as a friendly substitute.
"Yeah, but today you're extra smiley. Did you win the lotto at lunch?"
"No, but I found out at lunch that I've got a full time job teaching next year," I beamed. They cheered. My enthusiasm was clearly infectious.
"Are you taking over for Missus Perkins?" one student asked?
"Is Mister Caloway quitting?" another demanded.
"Oh my God! Are they getting rid of Grocer?" This got more cheering. I saw one of the hall aides peer in through the window and I hurriedly shushed everyone.
"Butts on chairs, quiet down!" I grinned. They settled.
"It's not here, unfortunately," I said. A couple of faces actually looked disappointed, bless them. "I'll be down in New Orleans at Peterson Academy."
This got a couple of low "Ohhs." They asked me a few more questions about my new job, and some of them seemed really surprised when they found out I was normally a math teacher.
"And just what do you have against math teachers?" I asked them.
"Math is stupid," said snotty looking girl who the roster had identified as Jannalyn Hopper. And yeah, I'm sorry, but teachers do recognize the snotty students, or the rude ones, and any of the other sore thumbs. We don't hold it against them, but we're not blind.
"Au contraire, mon ami," I tell her. On the contrary, my friend. "Math is a delight, and the kind I teach is the kind that stays useful throughout your life."
"Oh, so you teach the calculator then?" she snarked. Well I guess not everyone had a nice lunch.
"Actually I have taken a math class before that was primarily devoted to teaching how to use the calculator. Those graphing calculators can be pretty complicated. Anybody using those yet?" I tried to deflect.
"My brother has one," one student offers. "But I'm not allowed to touch it."
I grin at that. "Maybe he'll hand it down to you when he's done his calculus." I see the student nod. That's about all high schoolers really use them for. "Now, I think we'll do something about Earth Science," I say, and then draw the crude, stick-figure hanged man gallows on the board. "I believe you're working on plate tectonics?" This is met with agreement so I draw the spaces out on the board.
"And your hint," I tell them, "Is June Carter."
"Ring of fire!" a boy calls out.
"Hands please," I admonish. I had the boy explain the Pacific Ring of Fire, referring to the ring of volcanoes surrounding the Pacific Plate. Thinking that had been too easy, I did another clue for 'lithosphere' that had them guessing a while longer. We played the game through the rest of the class, and I made a point to call on Miss Hopper for letters several times. She managed to guess one clue by the time the bell rang. It felt like a small victory. The rest of my lessons that day went by in a breeze and I phoned both Lafayette and Amelia before I left the school just to tell them my good news. They were duly ecstatic for me.
I tried to call Eric when he got home, but he didn't answer, so I called Pam.
"This is Pam," she answered.
"Is it? I was trying to reach Malibu Skipper, is she available?"
"Skipper? Oh, I don't think so Sookie, I am not the little sister."
"But Pammy," I say soothingly.
"I will hang up on you," she states.
"Oh I'm so sorry Ms. Ravenscroft," I chime back at her.
"Better. To what do I owe the honor?"
"I have happy news to share," I start.
"And Eric's in a meeting," she says flatly.
"Well that too, but I have also been meaning to call you. I wanted to tell you what a lovely job you did with the funeral. I'm going to go ahead and assume that every thoughtful touch was yours, and it was as nice as it could have been, under the circumstances," I say.
"Thank you," she accepts. "It was a trying week. I was unsure what else to do with myself after clearing Eric."
"How was it, coordinating with Ana?"
"Oh that woman is just a peach," she says. She says peach exactly like she means something similar sounding with a lot more 'ih' than 'ee'.
"Isn't she? Oh God, I was left alone with her for the longest half hour in my life," I commiserate.
"How awful for you. At first I tried to get her input on everything and it was like pulling teeth. The only thing she had a concrete opinion about was the flowers, so I gave her the names of several florists to choose from, and she still threw placing the order back to me. Everything else, it was just me showing her options and her saying she didn't like it and me having to find something else."
"She spoke well of you. You were practically the only thing in and around Louisiana I heard her speak well of, in fact," I say.
"I suppose that's something. How did Eric do with his family? He wouldn't talk about it."
"It went better than it could have gone. They're not all terrible. Nobody threw anything or started shouting, but there were a lot of tense moments."
"So better than Tuesday then."
"He didn't give me all the details, what happened on Tuesday?"
"Shouting and throwing things."
"Seriously?"
"Well, there was shouting at least, before he left." Pam confirmed. "But, now you must tell me your happy news so that I may gloat at Eric that for once I know something he doesn't."
"I was offered a job at Peterson Academy today," I say, smiling to myself as I do.
"Is that the one with the teacher who frequents prostitutes?"
"That's the one, yes."
"Oh, that's wonderful then. Is that the job?"
"What, visiting prostitutes? No Pam, I'll be teaching," I smirk.
"No I mean, is that the job you got? The job from that that guy lost?"
"Um... I think so, yes. I sent them my resume the day after we had that dinner, but I only interviewed last week," I say.
"That's priceless," she laughs. "Sookie, what a little opportunist you are!" She's cackling now.
"Hey, I sent resumes to practically every school in the city," I say defensively.
"I'm sure you did, I'm sure you did. Pardon me though, I like this idea of the mercenary little you seizing upon others' misfortune."
"Pam!" I exclaim. "It wasn't like that! Anyway, it's not like he accidentally got arrested for seeing a prostitute."
"Oh, I'm sure the arrest was not intentional," Pam says. "Oh look, Eric is coming. Eric, Sookie has news! But I am afraid you are wanted in conference room B, so it will have to wait!" She's taunting him, and I am just along for the ride at this point.
"That's her?" I hear him ask.
"Yes, but you're busy. I'm afraid your work day isn't over until eight. Go." She's speaking clearly right into the phone but not talking to me.
"Is it good news?" he asks.
"I will tell you that it is good news, only because you can't afford the distraction," Pam decides. "Now go, you've been late all day."
"Hello Sookie," he says suddenly. He must have taken the phone from her. "You have good news?"
"That I do," I say. "And I'll tell you if you call me tonight, but get to your meeting or face the wrath of Pam," I joke.
"Alright, lover, I'll talk to you soon." Heh. That was purely for Pam's benefit.
"That was disgusting." Pam has her phone back again. "I haven't even seen you as a proper couple and I'm already sickened."
"We aim to please," I snark.
"Yes well. Unfortunately you'll have to get married and have babies now. I've gotten used to the idea and I've already told you I won't be abide a breakup."
"No problem, Pammy. We've already talked about it. He wants four," I say, delighting at the shocked expression which I have no doubt is plainly written across her face right now.
"You... are fucking with me," she states plainly, after a long pause.
I giggle. "You should go out drinking with your boss sometime, Pam, he's a funny guy."
"Pssha," I hear her mutter. "Alright, I have work to do. Some of us work a whole day, you know."
I can't help but roll my eyes. "It's a trade off, but we'll play 'Would You Rather' another time."
"Congratulations on the job, Sookie."
"Thanks Pam," I reply.
She disconnects. I continue my good news tour by calling Jason and Crystal, now officially living together, though she was still in the process of moving all her stuff. They were happy for me in a much more subdued way, and I found myself assuring them that I'd still be visiting plenty. I remembered that I also had to talk to Jason about Bill and the new property, but I didn't really feel like doing that on the speakerphone with Crystal. I know, she's about to be family, but, well, I just didn't want to. So I'd sit down with Jason and tell him about it another day.
Headmaster Keeting had invited me to come down on Monday to sign my official employment contract, so I went ahead and booked a hotel room that night to check in on Sunday and checkout on Wednesday. Not Eric's hotel, another. It was still nice, but cost about a third as much. I'd cancel my interview with St. Francis in the morning, but I still needed to meet with Mr. Cataliades on Wednesday, and I would use Tuesday to start browsing around for real estate. While I was thinking about it, I went ahead and called Arlene and made a lunch date. I wanted to hear about how she was doing with the pregnancy. She was a couple of months ahead of Crystal. It would be like a sneak peak.
I'd been flitting around all evening, to the point that I'd forgotten to eat until my stomach growled loudly, so I was having a sandwich when Eric called after nine. I answered with my mouth full, and he laughed from the beginning. He sounded genuinely happy for me when I told him the news.
"That's amazing, Sookie, when do you start?"
"Well, we talked about the summer program, but I'm not sure when that starts, or how long it runs. I'll get the full details on Monday, but I guess, as early as next month, or maybe July."
"That's great," he agrees. "So you'll have to move again then?"
"Well first I need to find a place, and then I'll have to move, but it won't be a full move. I intend to keep things here and go back to my old habit of being up here on the odd weekends."
"That'll be nice," he agrees.
"I also want to sort of start building my own household, you know? Everything here at Gran's house, well, mostly everything, was Gran's. I like it, of course, but I also want to do more of building up my things, in my taste."
"So you won't have a lot to move," he surmises.
"Exactly."
"It sounds like you'll have fun."
"I think so. I'm kind of looking forward to Saturday shopping trips and being excited about things like new water glasses."
He chuckles at that. "So are you going to buy a house?"
"Why, cause two is not enough?" I quip.
"You said the one is more of a ruin. You could always sell it, and buy in town."
"I guess I could, but as far as I know it was on the market for ages and ages before it was bought."
"Ah. Well, if nothing else, you have more forest to walk through, for when you're up there."
Laughing I agree, "Yes, I suppose there's that. I might go over there tomorrow and see what there is to see. I've been too busy yet. I think I'm going to rent down there though. I need to just get a handle on things. You know, no more big events for a couple of months. Or the length of a lease."
"That sounds like a very practical plan."
We chatted a bit more about apartments and houses and he admitted he'd never owned either, which struck me as terribly funny, prompting him to assure me of course, that it was by choice. The entire tenor of that part of the conversation was a little awkward, and I assumed it was mainly because of the fact that while he did like New Orleans quite a lot, he was still not pleased about the fact that he'd have to be doing the whole apartment searching thing himself again soon, and all the circumstances surrounding that. After we said goodnight, I realized I'd come down a fair bit from the high of being newly, about-to-be employed. I was still feeling great, just not as euphoric. Cloud four, maybe, as opposed to cloud nine.
I made my calls on Friday morning, and then I did walk across the cemetery, taking time to sweep some of the grass clippings and leaves away from the graves of my parents and grandparents. The house had been a fine old plantation house, up until about ten years ago, which was the last time anyone had lived here. Looking around the yard I thought that it might give even Jason's ride on mower a challenge. It was so overgrown I found myself checking for ticks after I'd trodden through to the rutted drive with its sparse gravel. Yeah, this was a fixer upper alright. Looking down the lane I saw the pleasing canopy of characteristic live oaks was greening up beautifully, and that was certainly charming, but looking toward the house was a different story.
I was afraid to even walk up on the stairs, the wood looked so worn and almost rotted through in places. The windows looked to all be intact, as was the door, but I just didn't want to risk getting closer to see them. To say the house was in need of a coat of paint was an understatement. The place had clearly not been well maintained up to the point where it became uninhabited. I bet it would cost a heck of a lot more to renovate than it would to just tear it down and build a brand new house here. But then of course the voice of Gran piped up to tell me what a crime it would be to destroy such a beautiful old home. Not that it was particularly beautiful at the moment, but it had the high columned front and the broad stairs and the rows of neatly matched windows. It had once been beautiful at least, I could see that. I'd have to do something with it. Darn it, Bill. This was no kind of gift. It was a responsibility! I wondered what he would have done, fixed it or torn it down? I felt like he probably would have fixed it. Original antebellum homes like this, well maintained, were some of the gems of the South. He and I had always agreed on that.
I snapped a few pictures on my cell phone. I couldn't really see trying to get around back. I might need a machete or something to cut through the kudzu, which was everywhere. I sighed, and headed back down the driveway. I was not even going to attempt wading through that grass again. I called my brother. He was at work, but maybe he could take an interruption.
"Hey Jason," I say when he answers.
"Hey Sook, you good?" he asks, clearly wondering why I'm calling him in the middle of the day.
"I'm fine. Listen, do you know a good contractor?"
"Something wrong up at the house? You need me to come take a look?"
"No, the house is fine. It's actually about the old Loudermilk place."
"Across the cemetery?"
"Yup, that one."
"What about it?"
"Well, it's mine." I say. I hit Hummingbird road just as a car was passing. I recognized one of the church ladies and gave a little wave.
"What do you mean it's yours? You bought that old place?"
"No, Bill bought it, in my name. Apparently he was going to fix it up so it could serve as his, as our, country house. I guess he wasn't as much of a fan of Gran's as he let me think, big surprise there." I say.
"Shit, Sook, so it's yours now?"
"Seems so. Anyway the place is a wreck. I don't even know where to start."
"Well, I know a few guys that could do some work, but I think you should probably start with a proper survey of the house and the land. They're not cheap, but you probably want Herveaux and Son. The Parish has a contract with them, but they do private work too. They could probably point you in the direction of what you need, even if that's a bulldozer."
I bit my lip. 'Not cheap' was what I'd figured, but hearing it confirmed rankled. I guess I'd wait until after I'd gotten Bill's settlement. At least this seemed like a use to which I could put that money - a problem Bill had handed me. "That man's just the gift that keeps on giving," I mutter.
"What was that?" Jason asks.
"Oh, just complaining," I say. "Alright, I'll give them a call next week. You got plans for Sunday?" I ask.
"Crystal's cookin'. You coming for supper?"
"Shoot, no, I can't. I have to be back in New Orleans for Monday," I sigh. "Come to church with me?" I suggest. It was a long shot.
"Sure, alright. What time?" he asks.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Well, Crystal wants to get married in church, so I guess I better show my face once in a while."
"Jason Stackhouse, are you fooling with me?"
"Nope," he says.
"Then I'll see you both at ten on Sunday."
"We'll be there," he agrees.
Son of a gun. I guess he was taking this whole family man thing to heart. Sunday services had long ago fallen by the wayside in favour of Saturday nights where my brother was concerned. Times were certainly changing if I could get Jason to church without so much as a guilt trip. After we hung up I went ahead and sent the photos I'd taken to Amelia. She replied with a very ambiguous text of "Ooo."
Eric called before he got on his plane to fly back to Seattle. He sounded exhausted, and when I told him so he confirmed it. He told me he'd be back in New Orleans in a week or two, depending on what his boss wanted. I would make a point of definitely seeing him then. I woke up on Saturday to see that I had a text from him when he'd gotten in. My weekend was uneventful and mostly full of Jason and Crystal. I met Maryelizabeth and the girls for lunch and we talked about whether or not it would be better to hold the wedding on July 4th actually or the following weekend. I asked Crystal if she and Jason would be taking a honeymoon and she said that because he could only get a couple of days off work anyway, it would be better to just do it in the middle of the week, so they could take those couple of days sandwiched between the holiday and the weekend. That sounded like the best idea. They were going to go up to the hot springs in Arkansas after the wedding. It sounded really nice.
We went back and forth laying out the basic framework for the wedding. She wanted the ceremony done in church. She wanted the colours to be purple and peach. I pushed real, real hard for the ladies to be in the peach, but I was overruled. Brides. They just have to get their ways. I don't look great in purple. She wanted a professional photographer. She didn't have her dress yet, but she was going to start taking trips to Shreveport next week. She didn't care about the reception. Her cousin suggested a big old barbeque at their house. Jason's back yard was large and level, so bringing in extra tables wouldn't be a problem. It was on the lake, so they could do fireworks at night. Holly volunteered that Hoyt could be in charge of organizing the fireworks display.
Crystal wanted a big white sheet cake with strawberry filling, the type you can buy at the grocery store. That's what she wanted. She said it was the cake she liked, and why should she pay a fancy bakery hundreds of dollars to put a bunch of edible silver beads on some many tiered falderal when she'd enjoy the thirty-nine dollar one from Costco even more? She said instead that the fancy cake should be the Groom's cake, because Jason wanted the bleeding armadillo cake (red velvet cake with grey coloured cream cheese frosting), just like in the movie 'Steel Magnolias.' Maryelizabeth was betting that she could make one. I volunteered to try to find a bakery that would make one, just in case she was too busy. It was my way of politely telling her, "You'll probably be too busy," without actually saying it that way.
So in the end, my tasks ended up being to find the photographer and someone to bake us up a bleedin' armadillo cake. Holly was going to hire the extra tables and chairs and organize a few of the guys to bring over extra grills to cook on. Crystal's other cousin, Terry, was going to get the cake and the food. They started debating whether or not we should roast a whole pig. Maryelizabeth was just going to be Crystal's go-to gal for everything else. We ended our luncheon of list-making with Crystal assuring us that she'd have bridesmaids gowns picked out for us soon, and that if we wanted to start dieting, now would be the time. I just laughed and rolled my eyes at Holly, who grinned back. She was a bit curvy like me, unlike the bean pole Norris women.
At church the next day it was Jason and Crystal as the centre of all attention. Gran's friends were looking forward to their wedding. They'd decided not to say anything about the baby outside of family and their very close circle of friends. As far as anyone knew, Crystal had tamed this lothario brother of mine, and got him to church to boot by the sheer power of her decent virtues. The old ladies regarded her as a modern miracle worker. I was told three separate times that Gran would have been so happy to see us both here together. I agreed with sincerity each time it was mentioned.
I didn't stay long after church as I needed to get down south, and several hours later I was in my hotel room going back and forth between the bed, which held my bag, and the closet, which held the nice outfits I'd brought to choose from for tomorrow. I had decided to stick with what had worked. I brought normal clothes, not business suits. I decided I was going to wear a pinstriped grey skirt with a blouse and a cardigan tomorrow. I did do some 'market research' on the shower. It was just a normal one, so Eric's hotel had it beat by a mile. The one measly showerhead it had was quite high up though. I would have to give it marks for the fact that Eric wouldn't need to crouch. The bed was heavenly. I would have to say it was a tie, there.
My Peterson meeting went very well. Headmaster Keeting met me right at the front entrance, and I got the full tour that we hadn't had time for in our initial interview. I met several of the other teachers before we returned to his office where I filled out the paperwork. My contract was for one school year, after which time I'd have a review and either be offered a longer term or let go. He assured me that barring anything extraordinary, which would be very obvious, most teachers were asked to remain. I was given a code of conduct and it was impressed upon me that I would need to know it and violations would be grounds for immediate termination. Given the vacancy that allowed my hire, I can't say I blamed him for driving this point home.
I was to start the second week of July at the first of two consecutive summer programs. They ran the second three weeks in July, and then a week off, and then for three weeks in August, and then the school year started the second week of September. The challenge with the summer program would be that some students joined one or the other or both sessions. I would have to craft a curriculum that was not repetitive, and also did not exclude any students in the second session who had not attended the first. And of course, it was intended to be fun, while also being academically engaging. Basically it seemed like school-camp. I would only be working with the students directly for three hours a day, from nine until noon, but I would remain present in the afternoons to help supervise during a free activity time that was split between sports and fine arts. This way the school would maintain the high staff to student ratio.
The pay for the summer program was separate from my normal salary, which would begin in September. The salary was generous. It was significantly more than I'd made at the Parish. That's not the norm, for a private school. It spoke to the prestigious calibre of Peterson and the size of its endowment. It wasn't over the top, and I'm sure it wasn't anywhere near what most of my friends earned (except maybe Laf, for the time being), but I didn't get into teaching to make the big bucks. For me, it seemed solid. I felt very proud when I saw the number. That was weird because I'd never wanted to associate my self-worth with a monetary value. I'd save that one for future introspection.
I signed everything there was to sign, including the government tax forms that I considered proved my official employment status. Yay! Before leaving, I was given a schedule of meetings that I would need to attend over the next couple of months. These were planning meetings for the summer program, year-end faculty meetings, trustees meetings, parents' association meetings. The Headmaster said that once I had settled in, I would be able to skip all but the mandatory faculty meetings in the future, but strongly urged me to acquaint myself early with the other teachers, parents, and administrators. I gathered that it was kind of important that I fully embrace my place in the school. I was officially a Petie. Yes, that is the nickname they use to refer to all students and teams of the school.
The main thing I had to do in the next couple of weeks was work on the curriculum for the summer program, to be presented to the Headmaster, the Deputy Headmaster, and the Director of the summer program the first week in June. My curriculum for the school year would not be due until the first of August and I would need to meet with my department head long before that to help me and also to discuss textbooks. The students bought their own each year, but of course they had to be approved early and ordered by the department.
So, here was me, officially the Albegra and Geometry teacher at Peterson Academy, New Orleans (effective Fall, 2012). I'd have all of the ninth grade classes, and the majority of the tenth grade. I had the regular courses for both grades, and then I had both the honours class and one remedial class for ninth grade. Because many students came to Peterson only for high school, the math skills they brought from their previous schools were not always up to scratch. By no means would I have a class full of dummies. The remedial course covered the same material as the regular ninth grade class, but allowed me to take more time with the students as individuals. They would move into the normal tenth grade course, as would the ninth graders who didn't go into the sophomore honours class, taught by someone else. By contrast, the ninth grade honours class was more or less the same as the tenth grade regular class, so effectively I'd have two and two. By senior year, all students would be taking at least one AP course. The program was definitely academically rigorous.
I was at Peterson for the entire morning and a fair portion of the afternoon getting my orientation. I didn't mind a bit. I got back to my hotel that afternoon and sat down with some paper and a pen. My head had been buzzing all day with ideas for the summer program and the curriculum for next year. I know I had a while to get it done, but I didn't want to forget anything that might prove interesting. It was early evening when my phone rang.
"Hi Eric!" I say with enthusiasm.
"Hey Sookie," he says, sounding fathoms less enthusiastic than I.
"What's wrong?" I ask immediately.
"Sophie Ann did not care for my six months' to exit plan."
Frowning, "What does that mean?"
"I've got about six weeks to finish...what I started. After that they'll be promoting to replace me and they'll just be rolling the dice with Peter Threadgill. It's great for them, because if, or rather, when it goes horribly fucking wrong, they can just blame me, and I won't be there anymore."
"How...convenient for them," I say, letting my sarcasm show, so he knows I am on his side.
"Right, so it'll just be my personal reputation at stake, just as I'm taking up a new enterprise, not theirs as a company."
"Can you do... whatever it is you're doing, in six weeks?"
"I guess we'll see. That's the only good news."
"What's the only good news?"
"I'm on my way to Sea-Tac. I'll be in by eleven, your-time. Think you might want to pick me up?"
I smile. "Gladly."