On Friday, Meredith pulled her SUV to a stop in front of the Ridgeway family home. She’d been invited to dinner to discuss her job and formally meet Reenie Dupree.
She needed anything she could to get her mind off of her day at work.
Rarely did she have what she considered a bad day. She had the patience of a saint with her students.
In her mind, it was her job to make learning fun and she put an extreme amount of time and effort into that.
But the conversation this morning about Macy after she’d met with the nurse and school counselor yesterday had bothered her more than she could say.
As the teacher, it was her job to make the dreaded call to the home and gather more information. Which she’d done before she left.
Rosie Stubban hadn’t been all that free with information about her granddaughter’s life. Nothing more than Richie Stubban wasn’t around much and she was caring for her granddaughter the best she could while working and dealing with her drunk son.
Macy hadn’t said she was hurt at home. No one yelled at her. No one hit her.
But she appeared neglected in her dirty clothes and body odor. The hunger the child always exhibited.
As gently as she could, she’d explained about Macy having a rash on her inner thigh that needs to be kept clean, per the nurse. Then a few comments the children had made about Macy’s odor.
She’d hoped that got through to Rosie, but wasn’t sure she could hold her breath.
It broke her heart to see any child ignored, but this was more in her eyes.
She inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders, then climbed out of her SUV and walked up the front porch stairs to knock on the door.
Clay’s mother opened it right away. “I’m so glad you could make it,” Brooke said. “Reenie is inside. Ford and Clay are on the way.”
“Oh,” she said. Meredith wished she knew Clay was coming. She might have put more effort into her attire. “I didn’t know he’d be here.”
All she’d done was change into jeans, sneakers, and a red T-shirt.
“My son loves any meal he doesn’t have to cook,” Brooke said. “Plus he should hear this anyway. I know it’s not his thing, but it’s too bad. It’s part of the family business and blends with his.”
She didn’t know the details of everything other than what Gale had told her last night. That Clay used his own money to get the hard cider business going and it was in his name. She assumed everything else fell under the orchards.
It didn’t matter to her. Her employment records were for the orchards and not Clay directly. Which didn’t explain who she reported to and she should figure that out also.
How had this gotten so confusing?
“I will admit, anytime I don’t have to cook, I enjoy it too. It’s not always so much fun to cook for myself.”
She turned when a dark-haired doe-eyed woman walked closer to her. “I say the same thing. I’m Reenie and you’ve got to be Meredith. Or do you go by Meri?”
“I’ll answer to either,” she said. “But I started going by my full name when I went to college.”
“I understand that. My real name is Maureen. When I moved away I did the same thing. But I knew Ford as a kid when I lived here for a year. I was Reenie to him.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Meredith asked. She felt horrible just standing there while Brooke moved around the kitchen.
“No,” Brooke said. “I’ve got it. Reenie was told that too, but she doesn’t listen well.”
Reenie grinned at her. “Why don’t we sit down? Brooke can do twenty things at once and always could. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions.”
“I do,” she said, pulling out her laptop that she’d stuffed in a large shoulder bag. “I reached out to the bride that is getting married here at the end of the month. She was thrilled with my offer to help. I know it’s not part of her package and I don’t expect to be paid for it.”
She was getting an hourly wage for her work and had to keep track of it all.
“Nonsense,” Brooke said. “Let us know what you do and your time. It’s all part of it to make it the best we can.”
