Annie's Neighborhood

“Marcus is coaching a junior baseball team at the boys’ club,” Koot said, returning to the table with a platter of buns, piled high with meat oozing a tangy-smelling sauce.

Sadie used tongs to set a sandwich on Sky’s plate. “Sam is helping his sister study for her bar exams. Poor Sam, he wishes he’d stayed in college instead of dropping out to get married. His job as a hospital orderly just pays the bills.”

“He could go back and finish his degree,” Koot said, whipping open his napkin.

Sadie defended their middle son. “It’s almost impossible with two kids, and tuition fees climbing.”

“I was lucky to finish college with some help from ROTC. Then I went straight into the police academy before getting called to active army duty,” Sky said. “A lot of guys I met overseas hoped they could attend college after their tours,” he added. “If they already had a family, it’d mean sacrifice. Maybe Sam will go back, though, if Koot keeps after him.”

“I could have helped him out financially if I’d continued teaching.” Sadie dished out salad and passed around dressings.

“You didn’t need the hassle.” Koot turned to Sky. “It got to where she was trying to teach kids who didn’t care. You know how many times we get called to that high school. I wanted her and Diandra out of there.”

“I picked up a packet of pretty high-grade weed at the middle school today.”

“Middle school? Dang.” Koot shook his graying head. “Can our job get any tougher?”

“Which reminds me. Apparently the school board voted to defund summer school. We’ll have to be extra vigilant about keeping watch on the buildings.”

Koot rolled his eyes. “Like that’s gonna be easy. If it didn’t affect my pension, I’d retire tomorrow.”

Sadie patted his hand. “Do it if you want.”

“Don’t you dare,” Sky put in. “Guaranteed our city manager won’t replace you.”

“It’s a shame everything’s gotten so bad in Briar Run,” Sadie said. “It’s never made sense to me how things began to slide, and then one downward trend led to another. You may not believe this, Sky, but Briar Run used to be as nice as this town. What you need to do is find a miracle worker—preferably a volunteer.”

“An army of them,” Koot flung out. Sky mulled over Sadie’s comment, which led back to his earlier thoughts about Annie Emerson. “Do you think one person could start a movement capable of turning a whole town around?”

Koot was quick to say no. Sadie seemed more willing to explore the possibility. “Briar Run didn’t fall into decline overnight. We stuck it out for a long time. What happened was like a row of dominos. The first one that toppled was economic. The factory closed, and that affected the livelihoods of more than half the workers in town. One by one more dominoes fell. No job, no money. No money, fewer taxes paid. Fewer taxes, fewer city services, and so on and so on. You get the picture.” She rose and collected their plates. “I’m going to the kitchen to get our dessert.”

“Briar Run is in a hopeless spiral,” Koot said after Sadie left. “I’m sorry you bought a house there, Sky. I know you took the job because it’s near your ex. Unfortunately, conditions in Briar Run are so degraded, her lawyers can legitimately harangue you. The best hope you have is to keep sending out résumés for any comparable job in a forty-mile radius of your ex and her new hubby’s horse farm. Ah, chocolate pie,” he exclaimed as Sadie returned. “My favorite. Let’s find a happier topic, so as not to give ourselves heartburn.”

Sadie cut each man a generous slice of pie.

Sky continued to worry the subject the others had dropped. “If I understand you right, Sadie, are you saying that if people do stuff like painting the exterior of our houses, new landscaping, making the outside more appealing, it won’t significantly improve their outlook? The city still lacks the economic development necessary to make folks less poor but wouldn’t this make a difference?”

She gave a shrug. “Yes and no. I’ve long been interested in the effect housing design has on alleviating poverty. After I left teaching, I took design classes at the community college. One thing we learned is that housing developments with homeowner associations that have strict rules for keeping up homes and yards have happier, healthier residents. But...they still need funding.”

Using the tines of his fork, Sky made a crater in the whipped-cream topping of his pie. “So...say, somebody got us all to gussie up our houses and maybe redo the park. Would that be enough to put a dent in crime? Will it encourage residents to get out and about?”

“Sounds like you wish a fairy godmother would wave her magic wand and turn Briar Run into utopia.” Koot tipped back his head and roared with laughter. “Dream on, my man. Dream on.”

Sky flinched. “Yeah, I see how the whole notion seems silly.”

As the trio polished off their pie in silence, Sky thought how ironic it was that he’d mentally tagged Annie Emerson the “curb-appeal fairy.” She would have to work magic, he realized, to accomplish even a tenth of the grandiose ideas she’d outlined.

Chapter Three

ANNIE’S HOUSE PROJECT had multiplied. Her enthusiasm sparked some of the results she’d hoped for. Mike Spurlock liked the looks of Gran’s Victorian after Annie’s painting was under way. Mike had a few days off from his business travel and, at Missy’s urging, borrowed Annie’s sander. Within a few days, the Spurlock home was ready to paint. Peggy Gilroy got the bug next. Their siding was shingle; a good washing left it in shape to be painted before Annie finished her trim.

All the homes had been a dingy gray. Annie chose Wedgwood blue with navy trim to give the street a pop of color. Since her house sat between the other two, it looked even prettier after Peggy painted hers cream with chocolate shutters and matching gingerbread scrollwork. Missy loved both of their color schemes, but she couldn’t make up her mind. She had Mike test sample paint on the back of their house until she settled on honey gold with dark green edging.

“I’m so excited about how good our homes look,” Missy said the afternoon Annie climbed down from putting the final touches on three cupolas jutting from her third story. The Spurlock home was only two-story and less ornate. Mike had whipped right through painting it.

“They do, Missy, and they’ll be even prettier after we’ve tackled the yards. That’s assuming my body holds out,” Annie added wryly as she rotated her shoulders. “Every night, what I wish for is some muscle man who’ll cart my ladder around for a few weeks.” The minute the statement crossed her lips, Annie pictured Sky Cordova, which jarred her until Missy spoke again.

“I could never climb an extension ladder the way you do, Annie. I get dizzy watching you. It was really nice of you to paint the upper section of George and Peggy’s place. His back really bothers him. Peggy’s gutsy for her age. She would’ve tackled it, you know.”

“I do know. In a lot of ways she’s like Gran Ida was.” Annie paused, battling back the sadness that descended whenever her grandmother’s name came up. “That indomitable spirit is why I was in denial when Peggy phoned to tell me Gran’s health was failing. To me she never seemed to age. I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

Missy threw both arms around her in an impulsive hug. “I’m sorry for reminding you, Annie. She brought us a casserole the night we moved in. Mike, his brother and I moved everything we’d stored in his folks’ garage into the house, all in one day. We were exhausted. And over she came with food. I called her an angel.” Missy grinned. “She said we should call her Gran Ida because everyone did. She was proud as a peacock of you. I wasn’t sure I’d like you, the way she made you sound like a saint.”

Annie laughed self-consciously. “Stop already.”

“I don’t mean to embarrass you. I think it was sweet. What you’re doing now, restoring the house, is exactly what she said you’d come here and do one day. Only she had grander plans. I’m sure you’ve seen the photo album that’s filled with pictures of how every street in town used to look.”

“I found it a few weeks ago,” Annie murmured.

“Well, I’m sure you remember the park. It was beautiful, with rose gardens, benches and walkways. Looking at it now, you’d never know it’s the same place. Peggy and I got together with Gran Ida most afternoons for tea and cookies and she’d bring out her album. She’d tell us that when you came home to stay, you’d get people to make the town look like it used to.” Missy giggled delightedly. “See why I expected you to be a saint? Maybe Gran Ida wasn’t quite herself toward the end, as Peggy pointed out, but I loved listening to her dreams. I had similar ones when we bought this house. Mike and I settled on a fixer-upper, which was all we could afford. I wish we’d known about the crime. I suppose it goes with the territory of low-income housing,” she said, ending on a sigh.

Annie listened while she washed out paintbrushes. “Now you sound like our illustrious police chief. Missy, low income doesn’t have to be synonymous with high crime. A family shouldn’t have to sell and move away to feel safe.”

“You can say that after all our homes were burgled in the same afternoon?”

Setting her clean brushes out to dry, Annie prepared to haul the ladder back to her garage. “Do you think that if people see what we’ve done, they’ll want to do the same thing? That’s my hope, anyway—that one set of highly visible improvements will encourage others in our community to follow our lead.”

“Peggy said you plan to call a meeting. But if Mike’s out of town I won’t be there. We’ve decided it’s not safe for us both to be gone at the same time. And I can’t say whether what we’ve done will induce anyone else. Mike said yesterday that if you hadn’t arranged for us to get such a deep discount at the paint store, we wouldn’t have been able to afford this makeover. Same goes for Peggy and George.”

Annie shrugged. She’d let them all think they were getting paint at a discount when, in fact, she’d made up the difference. She hoped they wouldn’t discover what she’d done. They had no idea how much money Gran had left her. With those funds, she was in a position to underwrite other projects and fulfill at least part of her grandmother’s dream. She’d told Gran’s lawyer that she didn’t want word of her inheritance to leak out. And she was more than willing to help families who pitched in by doing part of the work themselves. Mr. Manchester had said keeping the funding under wraps might be tricky. Annie guessed she’d deal with it if that became necessary.

Missy returned to her house and Annie stored her tools.

She walked to the end of her driveway to study the trio of newly painted homes, and thought they looked fantastic. It gave her personal satisfaction to see them so fresh and attractive—more satisfaction than she’d felt in a while. She’d thought she loved her job in L.A. But maybe the work had begun to weigh on her more than she’d realized. Her challenges here were more physical than mental. Here she used her creativity. Until now she hadn’t noticed how long it had been since she’d done any cooking, sewing or gardening. Her main regret, though, was that she hadn’t budgeted her time well enough to visit Gran Ida sooner.

Because her recent loss was still too raw, she distracted herself by installing the window boxes she’d bought. Soon she’d fill them with trailing roses. She wanted to tear out the old wisteria that covered a rock retaining wall. With Louisville gearing up for the Kentucky Derby, nurseries were selling gorgeous rosebushes. Annie pictured roses in a riot of color all across the front of this house, down the road and through the park again.

The next day, the weather turned from sunny and warm to muggy rain. Bad weather drove Annie inside. She alternately worked on kitchen curtains and a flyer to inform residents about her restoration planning meeting. The place, date and time were set. Darn it, though, she’d hoped to do some landscaping before she took pictures to put on her flyer. But the rain hung around for two more days, putting the kibosh on all her outdoor plans. She dug through Gran’s boxes of fabric and found just what she needed for drapes.

* * *

KOOT TALMAGE BLEW into police headquarters on a gust of rain and wind. Shutting the door with some difficulty, he stamped water from his wet boots, then shook off his official yellow slicker and hung it on a peg near the door.

Sky saw him and stepped into the hallway, his coffee cup in hand. “Are we going to have a real gully washer today?”

“Already is,” the other man grumbled as he met Sky at the coffeemaker and helped himself to a clean mug hanging on a wall rack.

“Is it causing flooding around Grandiflora or Hybrid Tea?” Sky named two streets that paralleled the river.