Folks have always thought she was some kind of quirky. But who isn’t?  The fact is she was fairly “normal” otherwise by all accounts. She was one hundred and fifteen pounds of barely contained energy. She never walked when she could run. With wavy red hair on her shoulders and startling green eyes, she stood out in the crowd. At only five foot four, she actually needed a ladder to “stand out,” but you get my drift, don’t you?

 

She was in a bit of a tizzy today. She had a brand-spanking new neighbor. She had lived in the small town of Porter, Texas, for twenty-two years. Folks used to say, see the town sign for Porter, sneeze, and you have cleared the township. Thirty miles from Houston is nothing these days, but when she was little, okay, she is still little size-wise, but when she was younger, thirty miles seemed enormous.

This is a new age! Nineteen seventy-seven, there is a television in every home. You can buy tapes to record TV shows to watch whatever you want. We have our own brand-new Taco Bell! We might be getting a Walmart soon.

 

She read in the paper that they are working on telephones you carry around with you. If you were a president, maybe that would be handy, but she thinks having someone able to get hold of you twenty-four hours a day would be awful. Nobody would have any privacy.

 

Anyway, at seven, a moving van pulled up to the old Jasper place this morning. She knew it had been sold for over a month, but information about who, what, and where was scant on the ground.

 

She has heard three different stories. Her favorite is that the house was bought by a writer in his mid-thirties who wanted to settle down not too far away from Houston. He was single and a writer of mysteries under a pseudonym so folks would not hunt him down. Apparently, he was hounded in the past and wanted secrecy. He was not married and had no children. 

 

The last story she heard was that he was in his mid-thirties ( the only consistent factoid) and would publish a weekly paper. The Porter Times office was still up the street, but we had not had a paper in three years since Old man Wilburn bit the dust at the ripe old age of ninety-five.

 

If this is the true story, she will want a job. She will bring over some essentials, like toilet paper, light bulbs, and paper towels. Paper plates, plastic silverware, and plastic cups, and a flashlight. Also, she will lend him one fry pan, one pot, a turner, a can opener, and a bread knife.

 

She has a basket of basic food. Bread, peanut butter, tuna fish, crackers, Oreos, eggs, butter, and cheese. Two apples, two bananas, and two oranges. She has included one towel, a bar of soap,  a small dish soap, and a washcloth.

 

She is the equivalent of our small town's welcome wagon. She left a note with the baskets. Telling him she lives across the street and that if he and his family need anything, pop over.

 

Five hours later, when she was elbow-deep in flour making her weekly bread, she got a knock on the door.

She yelled," Come on in, I’m in the kitchen making bread. Hi! You must be the new neighbor." 

 

"Yes, I am Charlie White, he said. You are the nice lady who left me emergency rations. I already ate an apple and a peanut butter sandwich.  Boy, did I appreciate the toilet paper! I did not think about those things."

 

"Well," she said, "If you have a wife or kids, I could get you some more stuff till you get to the store."

 

"Nope, it’s just me, he said. My front room is piled head-high with boxes. I came to see if you could give me a heads-up on where to get things in town. What can I buy here, and what will I need to get in Houston?"

 

"You need to make some lists. Do you need paper and pencil?"  

 

"No, I have those in my briefcase, " he said.

 

"Where are my manners, Mr. White? Would you like a cold drink? Have a seat at the table. I have some sweet tea all made. Would you like a glass? It’s the house wine of the south, you know," she said. 

 

"I would love some, thank you very much, which reminds me, I have to buy some ice trays. That goes on the list," he said.

 

"Is this your first big move?"

 

" No, but this is my first move on my own. My girlfriend took care of everything when we moved from Dallas to Houston. The move went off without a hitch. Living together did not. We were not compatible at all. It turns out she did not want children ever. She thought my wanting to run a small-town paper someday was boring beyond belief and that I was not any fun because I believed that working for a living was important. The good thing was I found this out before we got married," he said.

 

"As luck would have it, I came across this article about a small town paper closing, wrote the mayor about the property, found a house, and here I am!  I hope I can get your help from time to time till I get situated," he said.

 

"Well, I can tell you this, Charlie, Porter is a good town. And being close to Houston, you can get anything you need without too many problems.  We have one big church in town, and the Catholics and Baptists share it. The Catholics have the sermon first and then bible school. The Baptists have bible school first and then the sermon. We share the building for community fairs, picnics, and other things. Jewish people go to Houston for service but share the building for everything else. We are eclectic."

 

"We don’t have an official library, Charlie, but we have a trading bookstore where you can order from the big Houston library, and Sherry goes weekly to drop off and pick up books. Yes, Siree Bob, we are easing into the future. You must have noticed the brand-new spanking Taco Bell. We are darn near cosmopolitan!"

 

"Let me get the bread in bowls to rise, and I will go to your house, and then we can go into town and see if we can get you sorted," she said.

 

As he left, she could say that she was optimistic. They popped into quite a few stores in the town, everyone awaiting the scoop on the new blood arriving there. He was going to have to throw a barbecue to introduce himself. 

 

Jessie was a great help. She mentioned wanting to help with the paper. She seemed to know everyone and seemed very well-liked. She might be just the ticket. These small-town folk were so gullible. His last score took two years to set up and netted him a cool million. You can never know how deep the money is just at a glance.

 

The folks from Temple, Texas, knew Henry Wilson, not Charlie White. He doesn’t even look like him. Henry was about ten years older, with padding, flat shoes, and white hair. He walked slightly hunched over to appear three inches shorter. 

And well, Charlie was good-looking and thirty-five. His own blue eyes were enhanced with contacts. His hair darkened to a deep brown, and his weight was back to normal at one hundred and eighty. His real height was six feet even. He barely remembers his real name, Jim Vecchio. But that name is too distinctive, and he has not used it in years.

 

He looked over the town and decided he would need Jessie's services to cull the herd. Little did he know, Jessie already had her hackles up. She thought anyone who smiled as continuously as he did had some sort of problem. She could offer to help him unpack, and then she could snoop to her heart's content. Fun days coming up, one way or another.

 

Jessie’s radar had never let her down before, and it was going off like crazy. Just like the time she caught “ The Persnickety Pickpocket.” Mr. Wilburn loved coming up with interesting names for small-time criminals.  Cleavant Brown, dressed as an old lady, would bump into folks, grab their wallets, and quickly hobble away.  If Amy hadn’t hurt her ankle, the criminal mastermind might have gone on all summer. But Amy had fallen off her bike and twisted her ankle. She spent much time sitting on benches watching the human condition. 

 

She just happened to need to get off her feet at an opportune time. She saw a little old lady careen into Mrs. Applewhite, apologize, and go on. Ten minutes later, further up the street, the same little old lady ran into Mrs. Pope, and then she noticed men’s shoes. But she knew those shoes! They belonged to Cleavant Brown! 

 

She hollered for Jamie Schimdt to come to help her up. He was a six-foot-tall, fifteen-year-old good old boy. He had kind of a crush on her and came running whenever he heard her dulcet tones. 

 

She briefly explained the plan, and off they went. As they got close to the little old lady, Amy gave the little old lady Cleavant Brown a slash across the ankles with her crutch, and she/he went down with her dress, uncovering his size 15 work boots.  You see, even if the size of the boots had not been a dead giveaway to ownership, the dark red clay from the quarry near his house would have been.

 

Did you know that Texas was the leading source of clay production in the Americas? Yes indeed, we are also a big producer of agricultural products. However, Cleavant’s family was not as healthy financially as they might have been. His father was hornswoggled out of the ownership of the quarry. And, although the quarry made ten times the profit that it had under his leadership, he saw not one red cent.

 

He promptly put all his resources into drinking himself to death. He succeeded in under a year by walking in front of a bus while intoxicated. His family consisted of a wife, three children, a mother, and a grandmother who was an invalid. Cleavant is not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but as you can tell, he is inventive and not afraid of work.

 

The sheriff hauled Cleavant off and put him to work cleaning up the jail, and the park, and he even got a job helping out at the market. He was sent home with food every day. The ladies at the community church put him and his family on the list, and his family will be sent a supper every day. Jessie sends over three loaves of bread every week. We take care of our own if we can.

 

But we watch over strangers before we let them all the way in, and she is afraid Charlie is setting off alarms. She doesn't know how to explain it to you. He gets too close when he talks like he is already your dear and close friend. He looks at you hard, like he is trying to burrow in through your eyeballs. And he never stops smiling, which is a trait often associated with a wonky salesman or someone “tetched” in the head. It feels like his hand is already in her pocket.  Although he actually smells quite good because he wears “Polo,” her brain says he smells to high heavens. 

 

Yes, Siree Bob, she is watching this one.

 

Folks around town are used to her weirdness. They say she is special, not that she deserves her own Made For TV special, not getting her own Special  Olympic award special,  but she is not out of the usual mold. Since she was very little, not quite three,  she could read. 

 

They are big readers in her family. Her mom and dad moved to Houston when she was eighteen to be nearer the medical center and, she suspects, to get “cable.”  Her daddy has several health issues, and while not life-threatening, he requires close care be available. She and her mom send books back and forth monthly by mail if she doesn't go there.

 

She loves word puzzles and mystery games. She started solving small crimes around town when she was only eight. The sheriff asks her to stop by from time to time to get her two cents worth on vexing situations. 

 

She learned early on not to barge in and force her opinions on him. She lets him bring it up. She gave him some ideas and let him solve the crimes. So, she thinks she will put a small bee in his ear, just a small one, to start with.

 

Tomorrow, she will be going over to Charlie’s. She offered to help him unpack. That way, she can get an idea of him. Pictures, or the lack of them, tell a story. Well-worn items, as opposed to all-new stuff,  tell you he values old as well as new. 

 

Everyone in their mid-thirties should have a well-worn chair or desk. An old homemade quilt and embarrassing mementos from family and friends. If there are no personal knicknacks, that tells me that he has no set personality of his own. That's bad news right there. Sometimes, they can have all the right things and say all the right things and still be bad, but her radar has not been wrong yet. That’s him knocking at my back door, and she wonders what he wants. 

 

It was almost five, and she would generally start supper or maybe even go to Taco Bell.  She can taste a burrito in the future. She could walk there and stop by the bookstore and maybe rent a movie on her way home. At least, that is what she thought until the knock at the door.

 

"Well, hello, Charlie; what can I help with now," she asked.

 

 "Well, I need to go into Houston to get some bedclothes. Wanna come with me? I’ll feed you," he said with a big smile, showing all his teeth.

 

"Depends", she said. 

 

"On what?" He asked. 

 

"Well, where are you taking me to eat?"

 

He said, "He got a hankering for Steak and Ale. They have great bread."

 

"That’s fine with me," she said."

 

"And, it is conveniently in the same center as Target so that we can get my sheets and stuff. And, if you are extra hungry, the Baskin Robbins is there too,"  He said encouragingly.

 

"Well, she could get “Teachers Lament” to take home if they still have it," she said.

 

"What’s that," asked Charlie. 

 

"It’s homemade vanilla ice cream with ribbons of cinnamon syrup running through it. My current favorite. What’s yours, Charlie," she offered.

 

"Chocolate all the way, whatever’s the newest one. "

 

At Target, they shopped at a pretty good clip. He got pillows, two sets of linens, some towels, washcloths, Toiletries, a set of silverware, a box of pots and pans, a set of dishes, glasses, placemats, etc. They dented his wallet pretty well. They both had fun doing it and went down the street after loading up the car.

 

Steak and Ale was comfortable and fun. She still didn’t trust him, but she could enjoy being with him. It’s like your favorite cousin, who you know will pilfer something, so you don’t let him near the good stuff, but you can still invite him over. 

He talked of his family, and she talked of hers.

They were stuffed to the hilt and passed on the ice cream. They had spent two hours there. She had never done that before. 

 

Charlie said, "We better leave before they ask us to. It's eight thirty, and I have beds to make. I am older than you and need my sleep."

As he dropped her off, he kissed my cheek, thanked me again for my help, and told me he enjoyed my company. Saying that he would see me tomorrow.

 

Jessie was confused. At the restaurant, he was solicitous and even romantic, but then, he gave her the ugly cousin treatment. He dropped her off without getting out of the car, and she got a paltry kiss on the cheek. 

 

She thought to herself that she would go to Houston to see her folks for a couple of days to clear her head. She had a nice time with her parents and did not mention her radar going off at all. 

 

She did a little sightseeing tour, too. Driving here and there and settling some things. Driving always clears her mind. Going back to Porter, she was still wondering what would be happening when she got back.

 

As she pulled into her driveway ten days later, she saw the moving van was back. She walked over to Charlie’s house. 

 

He said, "I am sure glad I caught you before I left. I am moving to Pittsburg. My mom called. My dad is in the hospital after a bad accident; he broke his leg all up, and recovery will be very slow. I have to take over the hardware store while he recovers. It's been in the family forever."     

 

He was in a rush; the house had not been completely titled yet so that it could be easily resold. The Porter Times’ printing equipment has been sold to the Pearland paper. The building is being sold to a nice couple from Houston who saw the for sale sign right after he put it up and bought it on the spot. They plan to open a homemade beauty products store, which also does mail orders, so they are not dependent on foot traffic. 

 

He said,  "I will miss this town and you. I was just getting to know you. But this is all falling into place, so it seems like kismet."

 

Jessie looked him square in the face and said that she was sorry for his folks. This town is full of nice, decent people who will also feel your discomfort. She was glad he got to leave this town, knowing that all of us were doing well. Nothing much really changes in this town, and we like it this way. Yes, Jessie liked solving puzzles, and she hadn't minded making a few phone calls or driving up to Pittsburg.

 

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