PART IV: THE LEAVING IS THE HARDEST PART / 41

PART IV: The Leaving Is The Hardest Part


Chapter 41

Debbie was distressed that I was leaving, but promised to do all that was necessary to keep the machine grinding on. Mr. Soloman graciously decided to bequeath upon us a healthy amount of money from his corrugated cardboard business in Oslo. I paid the essential bills and said my farewells. When I left, I noticed that the office smelled like petunia blossoms.

I arrived at home, halfway expecting Bufford to be reclining on Inolea's front porch nursing a V8. He wasn't, and he wasn't. Edgar was nowhere to be found, either. I rifled through my closet and bathroom for essential "taking a short trip" items, and threw them all into a duffle, repairing its shoulder strap with some duct tape and a safety pin. For grins, I included the CosmoTech mug. Then I took off the lamp shade in the living room, reached inside and untaped an envelope which held three fifty dollar bills. I got a gallon orange juice carton and a plastic milk jug from the refrigerator, cut off the tops, and retrieved another three fifties from them each. My own version of the FDIC. I've never trusted banks. You shouldn't either.

I gathered everything onto the couch, sat down in the La-Z-Boy and tried to figure my strategy. No car. Little money. No reasonable way to transport me and over 175 sentimental paintings to Seattle, Washington. What to do.

[It was one of those times in well-written stories where a surprising plot twist conveniently allows the story, otherwise doomed, to continue. Let's not call it a 'contrivance'; life is full of legitimate surprises, orchestrated from Above].

Feeling a bit more relaxed  due to this recognition, I spied Ethyl's note on the floor across the room. It was flipped back-side up. There was writing--writing I'd missed upon first reading. I walked over to pick it up. When I read it, my faith in Providence was renewed. It said, and I quote:

"One mre think I lift you agift. Look under th porch. Them flowers sur are purty huh."

A caterpillar jumped in my stomach, broke tradition and transformed immediately into a bouncy little butterfly, then exploded into a whole herd of them. I opened the screen door and looked over the side of the porch at a suspicious plot of petunias. Looking closer, I saw hidden within the stems of the flowers a Zip-Lock baggie. In this neighborhood, the contents of such a baggie would usually be only one thing. Untrue in this case as, when I opened it and unrolled the paper towel, the contents looked a lot like $2,300.00...because it was. What a sweetheart, that Ethyl was, and what an angel. The question remaining now was, Ryder or UHaul?