Full Measure

Chapter twenty-six

Evelyn looked up from her desk at Anders Wealth Management to find Ted Norris standing in the doorway of her office. She flinched. The morning light coming through her windows illuminated him. “Ted?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?

“I’m good as new.”

“Can I help you?”

“I want to get a few things off my chest.”

“I’ll let Brian know you’re here.”

“But I don’t want to talk to Brian.”

“You’re not here looking for trouble, are you?”

“No. Not in any way.”

Brian appeared in the middle distance behind Ted, glancing up from his tablet. He gave Ted an interrogatory stare. Ted sensed him without turning. “Don’t worry, Mr. Anders. I come in peace.”

“I’m sorry for what happened,” said Brian. “I saw it on the Village View Web site.”

“I lost eighty dollars but saved my life by fighting hand to hand.”

“The sheriffs are going to step up the downtown patrol,” said Brian. “Not everyone can do what you did.”

“I’m not a hero and I don’t want to be.” Ted folded his hands together at his waist. He was wearing another baggy Hawaiian shirt and loose jeans and his huge therapeutic shoes. The shirt hung oddly distended on his right side.

“Come in and take a seat then,” said Evelyn. “I have an appointment in half an hour.”

Ted stepped in and put a hand on the doorknob.

“Leave it open.”

“I was going to.”

Brian circled his index finger around his ear then made the “call me” sign with his free hand and walked toward his office. A spark of fear flickered inside her and she wished that Brian had done something more. But what? Call security? The landlord had terminated the service months ago, and the tenants couldn’t afford security on their own. She’d put PATROLLED BY FALLBROOK SECURITY stickers on the windows and a larger sign by the mailboxes in the ground-floor entry, but any bad guy with half a brain would figure them for what they were — bogus.

Ted sat heavily in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “I’m not drawing any more cartoons of you.”

“Thank you, Ted. Good decision.”

“Patrick ordered me not to.”

“Then I thank both of you.”

Ted adjusted himself on the chair, as if something was physically bothering him. “I disagree with almost everything you’ve done as my mayor.”

Evelyn felt instantly crushed, but the feeling disappeared quickly. Four years in elected office had made her skin much thicker. Still, there was pain in disagreement: democracy hurt. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I was elected for what I believe. And I’m expected to act on those beliefs, for the good of Fallbrook.”

“I’ll probably have to vote for Walt Rood.”

“That’s your right.”

“I like your campaign posters. Your picture is nice.”

“You should vote your... I’d like to have your heart, Ted.”

“Have my heart? You really would?”

“I meant your vote. I was going to say, you should vote your heart — but then I tried to say something else and it came out mixed up.”

“I do that all the time. The big important words in your thoughts, they come out, but some of the other ones don’t. So what you say isn’t complete. It isn’t what you tried to say.”

Evelyn smiled. Ted really did have a good heart in there. “No, things come out wrong all the time. I’d still love your vote, though.”

Ted looked at her with an unreadable expression. He half-stood, reached under his shirt. Before Evelyn fully registered what he was doing, Ted drew a plastic sandwich box and held it up toward her. “I brought this for you,” he said. Something thick and slow moved inside the opaque container. “It’s a tarantula.”

“Oh! Well, I’m really not a big tarantula fan, Ted. Incredible as that may seem.”

“This one is a female. The males are skinny and die. These females are plump and live a long, long time. She eats crickets you can buy at the pet store.”

“I’m... can you keep it for me? Or can I let it go in the nature preserve or somewhere?”

“Let her go?”

“Just asking.”

Ted reached out and set the container on Evelyn’s desk. She watched the thing feeling its away around. “When I was young I fell in love with you,” he said.

Evelyn felt her face change color but she wasn’t sure what color — discomfort pink or creeped-out white? “Oh?”

“When you babysat me. And after.”

“I remember that. And I remember the card you made me.”

“I wanted something back from you but instead I got nothing.”

“The card had a frog on it.”

“It was a Pacific tree frog. They’re all over Fallbrook but they only come out when it rains.”

“I hear them in the creek by my house. Is there something specific you came here to talk about?”

“The concert by Cruzela Storm. I want you to cancel it.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say, Ted.”

“It’s my honest opinion and I vote. You are not my mother or my nanny.”

“The concert is to help pay for two lighted crosswalks, Ted. George Hernandez lost his life right there on Mission for no reason. No reason at all! You should be asking to help, not to hinder.”

“To help you?”

“Help Fallbrook.”

“Are the lighted crosswalks big and meaningful?”

“Yes. They’re big and meaningful and affordable. If we have the concert, that is.”

Ted looked around as if considering. “I’d like to join your re-election staff.”

“But, Ted, you and I disagree on almost every issue. Besides, the campaign work is mostly done. It’s just a matter of taking down the posters after the vote.”

“Then I would like to show Cruzela Storm around Fallbrook after the show. A tour of our city, in my taxi. For free.”

Evelyn’s scalp cooled and tightened. “That’s sweet of you. But she’ll have lots of security.”

“They can come, too. My cab has room for four adult passengers. So — me, you, Cruzela, and two security guards. It’s clean and comfortable.”

“She’s a very private and in-demand person, Ted.”

“Will you at least ask her?”

“No. I won’t.”

“You are everything I don’t like about government and women,” said Ted. “All you say is no, no, no, and no. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Sometimes I am ashamed, when I can’t do enough. I’m trying here, Ted, with the crosswalks I’m trying to say yes to something good.” Evelyn’s phone chimed and she listened and rang off. “My nine o’clocks just got here.” She looked past Ted’s shoulder at Brian, standing out in the hallway, phone in hand. She could hear footsteps coming up the old wooden stairs, their echoes climbing the stairwell and spilling into the lobby. God bless the LaPointes!

“I also don’t like that you’ve lost all Mom and Dad’s money,” said Ted. “They’re losing everything, because of you.”

Evelyn stood. “I have not lost all their money. And I won’t discuss anything more with you.”

“No, you won’t. Because you’re government and a woman, and a thief and a liar.”

“Leave now.”

Ted grabbed the tarantula off the desk and looked at Evelyn as he worked the sandwich box back into the waistband of his pants. “I’ll do something big and important. I don’t need you.”