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“Jack and Paul and some men have come to work on the cabins.” He laughed at the way Art’s head jerked toward him and his eyes lit up. “I’m sure they’d want you to help out if you feel like it.”
“Do they want me to?” he asked, pulling in his line.
“Sure, but you’ll have to let them tell you what they need the most help with. Huh?”
“Okay,” he said, grinning happily.
“I’m going to run over to Eureka to get some supplies. Need anything?”
He shook his head. “Maybe I’ll get a lot done with Jack and Paul,” he said.
“I bet you will. Come on, I’ll walk back with you.”
Art really enjoyed being around people, especially people who treated him with respect, and whenever there were men at work, he eagerly, though shyly, loved to pitch in. It sometimes made him a little clumsy.
Luke only needed an hour or two in some big box stores to load up a couple of carts with things for the cabins. What he really wanted to do was visit a certain little grocery store. He had tried not to dwell on what Art had gone through, but he had managed to have a couple of conversations with him that gave him enough information to figure out where it was. Griffin’s Grocery on Simmons Street.
It wasn’t a bad grocery store, if a little on the worn side. He glanced around and then grabbed a cart. It took him twenty seconds to pick out a bagger who had Down’s and in the produce section there was a woman he asked a few questions and by her slow and difficult answers, grappling for the right word, he suspected some kind of disability. Then he noticed her name tag—Netta. This was someone from the group home Art had said he missed. So Luke asked, “Who’s your manager here?”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh, Stan. That’s Stan.”
“And where would I find Stan?” Luke asked.
She shrugged and said, “Maybe in the back?”
Before Luke had a chance to search Stan out, there was a grocer beside him, asking, “Can I help you with something, sir?”
Luke smiled his most engaging smile. “I wanted to talk to the manager. This lady says that would be Stan.”
This was a guy in his late thirties, sharp and clean, articulate, wearing a green apron. He returned the smile. “I’m the assistant manager. Anything I can do to help?”
“Not sure,” he said with a shrug. “I just bought a small store in Clear River. Just a little neighborhood store, smaller than this. Thing is—I’m doing it on a shoestring. It’s a real good gamble, there’s no grocery in there right now,” he said, though he had absolutely no idea if there was a grocery store in Clear River. “I’m going to hire a couple of full-time people and a few part-time people. I’m going to have to stay low budget for a while when it comes to payroll. I’m interested in this store’s employees. They’re nice, they look productive, they’re challenged. I wondered how you go about finding employees like them.”
The man kept an even expression. “You’re right, you’re looking for Stan. That’s his project. His sister has some kind of home and he gives work to a lot of them. But you might want to think twice about that idea. If they get slow or confused, it can be frustrating. I work real well with them, but…” He shook his head almost sadly. “It bothers some people.”
“My younger brother has Down’s,” Luke lied. “I’m up to speed on the problems.”
“You have the patience for that, then?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “He’s got a real good job now. Makes him so happy to be managing his own life. The guy has never missed work, does his chores around the house, always has money in the bank… He’s a dream come true.”
“The work has to be uncomplicated to start—like bagging. Opening boxes. Cleaning up. Even stocking shelves can get too complicated for some of them.”
“Everyone has a different level of competence, but I understand what you’re saying. So, where’s Stan?”
“Follow me,” he said. And Luke followed.
The surprises started immediately. First of all, Stan was a young guy, probably not thirty. He was slight—way smaller than Art—but scrappy-looking. He met Luke with a curl to his lip and furrowed black brows, suspicious at once. There weren’t a lot of reasons for a man to be suspicious right off unless he was expecting trouble. His size only confused Luke for a second; Stan was the one in charge and knowing Art, he would never hit back, never strike. Art also wouldn’t lie. He knew right away—Stan had punched Art.
Luke went through his spiel about the imaginary grocery store again, as convincingly as possible. He skipped the part about having a brother with Down’s and concentrated on the hard work, minimum wage, reliable attendance, his need to stay low budget. Stan did a lot of head shaking and shrugging. “I can’t help you, buddy,” he said. “Eureka is a long way from Clear River and these kids don’t drive.”
They aren’t kids. But Luke kept a smile on his face. He offered to buy Stan a beer to talk a little bit about the grocery business, since they weren’t competitors. Stan warmed up at the suggestion of a beer and he agreed—it was time for a break. When they were leaving the grocery, Stan never told anyone where he was going and he glared at everyone. The employees here didn’t seem happy, not even the good-natured assistant manager. To just peg Stan as an abusive jerk could be accurate, but it might be too simple. What Luke really wanted to know was what had happened to Art and why Stan hadn’t reported him missing.
A glimmer of understanding came with a beer. “My sister has a group home for these retards. I help her out by giving her kids some work,” he said. “Keeps ’em busy and out of the house.”
“They ever give you trouble?” Luke asked.
“They bug the shit outta me. How many times you gotta show ’em something? Tell ’em? But you’re right about one thing—they’re cheap and they keep coming back. Maybe you could get someone in Clear River to start up a home. It’s not like it’s hard. Just has to be clean and pass inspection.”
Luke had an instant image of someone completely unqualified to run such a home, doing it for the money, and it made him feel angry and ill. But he said, “That might be doable. I have an ex-wife whose always hurting for money….”
“There’s an idea. Get the ex off your payroll.”
“Maybe I could talk to your sister? Think she’d tell me how a person goes about that?”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. What else has she got to do while all her kids are at work, huh?” He gave an address and some directions, not far from the store. “Just tell her I sent you over, huh?”
“I appreciate it, man. You’ll never know.”
Luke dropped Stan at the store and immediately followed the directions he’d been given. When he knocked on the door another surprise almost blew him over. Shirl was even younger than Stan. She was maybe twenty-eight at a stretch, dressed in a tight, short skirt, V-neck sweater that showed off her boobs, ultra-black hair with a pink strip framing her face. This was not Mother Teresa. And, of course, she was chewing gum. He could barely get a glimpse, but behind her appeared to be a very small, tidy house with old, worn furniture. That was the first time he considered that the couple of challenged employees he’d seen in the grocery were wearing clean but well-worn clothes. Art had looked as if he’d been homeless forever, but he was merely dirty and his clothes had already been threadbare. Shirl didn’t waste a lot of cash clothing them.
She opened the door cautiously. “Hi,” he said, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open fast, shut again just as fast, officially. “I’m looking for Art.”
“Art?” she asked, stepping back. “Who?”
“Art Cleary.”
“Um… I think he’s at work…”
“I’ve been there. He’s not at work,” Luke said.
She frowned. “Are you the guy with the new grocery store?” she asked in confusion. “My brother called me and said—”
“Well, that was kind of a story.” He shrugged. “I’m with the agency. Looking for Art. Just a follow-up visit, that’s all. The paperwork on him shows it’s been a while since he’s had a visit.”
“Okay, okay,” she said tiredly, holding up her hands, caught. “What timing. He took off. Ah, it was just this morning. He said he was going to—he wanted to go see some really old aunt of his in Redding. I called there, no answer, and no answering machine—some of these people are real hicks. I was just about to call Social Services, but I’m sure he just hitched a ride to his aunt’s and she’ll make sure he gets back. I was giving him a chance to check in—I don’t want him in trouble. What are you going to do, fine me?”
Okay, lie number one, Luke thought. Art had been with Luke a couple of months. “You know what?” Luke said. “You keep trying the aunt. The less said about this, the better for Art. The better for you, huh?” And he winked at her.
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Really.”
“Why don’t you jot down that aunt’s address and phone number for me? If I find him there, I can bring him back before there’s any confusion about it.”
“You don’t have the address? She’s next of kin.”
“Save me some time, huh?” he said with a smile. “To tell the truth, I have a lot better things to do than track him down, but it’s on my sheet.” And Luke wondered how many challenged residents had run off or disappeared while Shirl and Stan pocketed the monthly stipend provided by social security or insurance or the state. What happened to their paychecks from the grocery store? Did Stan write them off and keep the money? “I’ll work it out,” Luke said. “There might be paperwork. Don’t worry about it. You’re a nice girl to take him in the first place. These folks get to be a handful,” he added with a grin.
“Tell me about it,” she said.
He didn’t know about the others, but there was no sweeter soul, nobody less trouble and more eager to please than Art. But he said, “I’ll take care of this and get back to you. You don’t have to say anything.” He raised his eyebrows. “We don’t want him in trouble.”
“Right,” she said. “Wanna come in? Have some coffee or…something?”
“Thanks, but I’m running behind. I’ll come back though—how’s that?”
Luke left Shirl and took a big truckload of supplies for the cabins back to Virgin River. He decided he wasn’t going to take any chances—he’d get help from Mike and Brie. He’d wait till after Christmas, give the Valenzuelas some time with their new baby and all the visiting family, then pay a visit, explain in detail about the group home and job Art had come from and ask what he had to do to clear things up so Art could stay with him. And if it wasn’t possible for Art to stay with Luke, his next residence would be safer—Luke would see to that. Between Mike and Brie, given their legal and law enforcement experience, they could at least help him figure out how he should proceed. And he’d like to get Stan and Shirl investigated—they were a couple of punk kids in charge of a lot of disabled adults. It smelled like they were working the system for profit.
Luke decided it would be necessary to go to Phoenix for a couple of days over Christmas. If he didn’t, there was no telling how many Riordans might show up in Virgin River, and he didn’t have the patience for that. Going to Phoenix would appease his mother and mollify his brothers.
With all that was going on over the holidays around his cabins, he needed to be sure everything was well organized, planned out. First of all, he had to be sure Jack and Mike Valenzuela could manage everything their families needed while Luke was away because Art certainly couldn’t handle guests’ needs.
