Double Concerto - 30. Dissonance

Rick winced as he backed the company van into a slot in Jahnke’s lot. Without its muffler, the old beast had roared along the quiet morning streets of Eagle Lake. Every time he stepped on the gas, he’d cringed. It was a relief to shut the engine off.

Yet even with the racket and his mounting embarrassment, Rick wore a smile. He sat behind the wheel, letting his ears readjust. He’d paddled over to Cedarcrest the previous night. At the end of the dock, he and Gus watched the stars, kissed, and traded whispers until all the lights in the lodge had gone dark. Then they kissed some more.

Rick stifled a yawn and grinned to himself.

The vehicle door groaned as he climbed out; he slammed it shut with an authoritative thunk. Pulling open the glass door to the restaurant, Rick waved to Wanda Jahnke at the counter. He walked to the back, sitting down in an empty booth. Two places were already set with utensils and scallop-edged paper advertising placemats, touting the merits of a dozen local businesses.

He pulled a pen out of his pocket and drew in the margins while he waited. Waves and water, and a fanciful sailboat took shape. Rick wondered what it would be like to sail; he’d never tried. Would Gus enjoy it as much as canoeing?

“Morning Rico, you’re here early.” Jerry Guttmacher grinned as he slid into his red leatherette seat opposite Rick.

“For once, I got in first.” Rick raised his eyes from the doodle on his placemat to smile back. Thoughts about Gus made it come easily to his features.

“Can’t remember the last time that happened.”

“Just woke up with the birds and rolled out of bed.”

“And here I thought you decided to stay up round the clock after a late night of debauchery.”

Rick looked away. It might have been midnight when he paddled back across the lake. Maybe. But he’d awakened with a brightness of spirit that mirrored the morning sun.

“Anyway,” Jerry continued, “I guess breakfast is on me today.”

“Why is that?”

“Not every day we get to celebrate the end of an era.”

“Huh? End of what era?”

“Oh, I get it. Are we in mourning?”

“What the heck are you talking about?” Rick’s voice rose just above the hum of early morning conversation in the diner. A couple of heads turned.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Wanda Jahnke. "Morning Jerry, how are ya, Rick. What can I get you this morning?"

“The usual for me,” Jerry answered, “and the groom-to-be here will have bran flakes and applesauce.”

“Will you cut that out?!” Rick hissed fiercely. He turned to Wanda. “Just bring me eggs, toast and fruit, please?”

“You want the coffee, too?” She asked, as if Rick hadn’t ordered coffee for the past decade and a half.

“Yes, please.”

The woman pursed her lips and walked away with their orders.

“Hey, Rick, I’m sorry, okay?” Jerry did his best to sound contrite, though his face showed no apology. “Just thought it was a special occasion.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re being mysterious.”

“How is that?”

Rick frowned. “Jer, you’ve been talking in code since I got your message yesterday.”

“Yeah, and I’m surprised you didn’t call me back. You’ve been pretty ‘busy’ lately, Rico.” His friend made air quotes and maintained his grin.

“Hey, yesterday was one of those days that just wouldn’t quit. I got this bitch of a call in the morning, and then a bunch of stuff in the afternoon that lasted ‘til sundown. Oh, and the van dropped its muffler, all over the West Shore Road. The old clunker’s so loud, my ears are ringing. I’ll be bringing it around later on. You can squeeze it in, can’t you?”

“Sure thing, pal. But what I want to know is what or who kept you occupied after the sun went down?”

Rick hesitated. He didn’t think Jerry really needed to know what he had done with Gus while the stars shone down on them. They might have done more than kiss.

“I went out on the lake.” At least that was completely true.

“And how was the night fishing?” Jerry smirked.

“I wasn’t fishing. Just paddling.” Right around to Cedarcrest.

Jerry raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing.

“I didn’t get home till it was too late to call.”

His friend lowered his voice. “Since when did canoeing give you red marks under your collar?”

He flushed pink and adjusted the neck of is work shirt. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, right.” Jerry leered. “Awwww, Rico, it’s okay, really. You don’t get engaged every weekend, and if you really love Rita, I can learn –”

“Wait, what did you say?” Rick interrupted.

“If you really love –”

“No, the first part.”

Jerry looked hurt. “Hey, I’m trying to be happy for you, okay? So you finally asked Rita to marry you, and I hope you’re –”

“Stop right there!” Rick raised his voice, forgetting for a moment where he was. He strove to control his tone. “This has gone far enough.”

“You did ask Rita to marry you this weekend, right?” Jerry stammered, surprised at Rick’s vehemence. “That’s what I heard.”

“Who have you been talking to?”

His friend stared as his napkin. “Um, Cheryl. She found it yesterday …She called me from home; told me to look on Facebook. It’s all over Rita’s page.”

“What exactly did that page say?”

“You don’t know?”

Rick shook his head.

Jerry pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. He handed it over. “Look for yourself.”

The small rectangle sitting on the table between them blazed color. A photo of a woman’s hand wearing a sparkling diamond ring with a modern setting dominated the screen. He thumbed down to find several different views.

The words “What a weekend! I got the ring! Of course I said ‘yes!’” captioned the images.

Comments and ‘likes’ followed, of which there seemed to be quite a few. Rick sampled them:

“Beautiful! Stunning!”

“So happy for you!”

“How romantic.”

“Finally! About time!”

He blinked and frowned, scrolling up, then back down. His stomach tensed. He needed a deep breath to calm down. With pursed lips and a shake of the head, Rick slid the phone back to Jerry. “I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t give Rita that ring.”

“You didn’t? What’re you saying? That ring is fake?”

“No, I’m saying I didn’t ask her to marry me.”

“But … she said …” his friend groped for words. He picked up the phone and stared.

“Look at that post again. No place does it say ‘Rick Ernst asked me to marry him.’ I don’t see ‘Ricky popped the question, and I got this lovely ring!’”

Jerry peered at the screen. “You sure you didn’t propose?”

“Geez, you’d think I would know something like that!”

“How much beer is left in your fridge?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying, you could have gotten really drunk over the weekend, and you don’t remember …”

Rick’s dark stare silenced the man on the other side of the table, at least for a moment.

But Jerry had another question. “Okay, so suppose you didn’t ask her. Who did?”

“God only knows. Whoever it is, my heart goes out to him.”

“You’re assuming somebody actually asked for Rita’s hand in the first place.” His friend mused. “We don’t even know if that’s Rita in the picture at all.”

“I don’t really care.”

“That bitch. She’s been leading you on for months!” Jerry scowled. “I’d be pissed. In fact, I’m pissed on your behalf.”

Rick suppressed a smirk as his blood pressure came down to something approximating normal.

“Save it.” He shrugged. “That part doesn’t bother me much. I’ve been telling you and everybody else that I wasn’t interested. Over, and over and over, I’ve said it. What fries me is that everyone just assumed it was me she’d got engaged to.”

“Get real, Rico. It’s been the best gossip in town all year. Savvy realtor Rita pursues the very eligible Rick Ernst. You bet everyone’s gonna assume.”

“Well, I’m going to have to call Rita and ask her to clarify on her Facebook page. I don’t want to be dealing with stupid questions for the rest of the summer.”

“Guess you’d better set up your own page, like I’ve been telling you.” Jerry shook his head.

The arrival of plates laden with breakfast interrupted further conversation.

"Here ya go, boys. Anything else?" Wanda Jahnke delivered her usual line.

“No thanks,” Rick replied.

But instead of disappearing to wait on her other customers, she hesitated. “So, Rick. I hear you got some news.”

Rick and Jerry exchanged glances.

“What did you hear?” Rick asked.

“Gonna tie the knot with that McKee woman, that’s what they say.”

“Who’s ‘they,’ Wanda?”

“Heard it from Bert Albrecht, who got it from Shelley Metzger. Don’t know where she got it. Why? Was it supposed to be some kind of secret?”

Rick sighed and shook his head. All the bounce and energy he’d felt was dissipating like morning mist. “Just forget you ever heard it, okay Wanda?”

“Hard to forget something like that.”

“It’s just a stupid rumor.”

“I can quote you on that?”

“Absolutely.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Rick, whatever you say.” She walked away.

“Jeezus,” Rick said, picking up his fork, “I’m going to have to print a full-page denial in the paper.” He wondered if anyone in town would believe it if he did.

“Or write your obituary. Your dad’s gonna pitch a hissy fit when someone tells him it’s not you Rita’s marrying.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m already dreading the call I have to make tonight.” Rick winced.

Jerry attacked his eggs. “I hate to sound like your old man, Rico, but I still wonder why you never went after Rita. Seriously, I think you could have …”

“Don’t go there. Please. She’s just not my type.”

“Do you even have a type?”

Rick left the question hanging as he bit into his toast.

What if I told Jerry my type was male, musical, and mocha skinned? How long would he still be my best friend? Ten seconds?

The possible answers did nothing to comfort him or settle his breakfast. Yet, the prospect of continuing to hide an essential part of himself from his oldest friend held no joy in it either. It was one thing to live as a confirmed bachelor, quite another to talk openly about his own truth and the man who had so thoroughly captivated him.

Rick took a big forkful of eggs to keep from having to say anything. He wondered if it was possible to come out to Jerry. What words could he use?

“Well I gotta say, Rico, I’m unhappy.” Jerry’s words interrupted his thoughts.

“Hm?” He swallowed. “How come?”

“I was looking forward to being your best man. You know, forgetting the rings, embarrassing you at the toast: I was getting my big speech ready and everything.”

“Is that right?”

“And what really got me going was the idea that old Heinrich Senior might have had to lay out a pile of cash for the wedding.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. Besides, doesn’t the bride’s family pay for the wedding?”

“I bet he’d have paid good, hard, cash if it meant getting you married to Rita. Maybe even a couple of hundred bucks.”

Rick’s rejoinder was cut off as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to squint at the screen. Walter Heinemann. “I think I have to take this, Jer. You mind?”

His friend shook his head. “Go right ahead.” The lanky man began to mop up the eggs on his plate.

“’Morning, Walter. Sorry I missed your call yesterday. I tried calling back, but the line was busy. Everything all right?” Rick held the phone to his ear, trying to shut out the noise of the diner. With his other hand, he fumbled to extract his notepad.

“Can you stop by to see me some time this morning?” The older man asked without preamble, his voice tinged with concern.

“What’s the problem?” Rick asked, his pencil poised to write.

“I’d rather talk to you about it in person. The sooner the better, really.”

“That bad, huh?” He tried to take a light tone, but Heinemann was having none of it.

“It could be. When can you come?”

“I’m not sure. I have to take the company van in for service.”

“Is it critical?”

“Just a missing muffler.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d be grateful if you’d drive over and meet me at the school as soon as you can.”

Rick was taken aback by the urgency of the call. There was something strange in the older man’s tone, too. “Sure thing, Walter, if that’s what you need. I can be there in ten minutes.”

The call ended.

“Bad news?” Jerry inquired.

“Sounds like it.” Rick agreed. “Walter Heinemann needs me over at the school right away. I wonder what the problem is?” His mind raced through a catalog of possible catastrophes that might have occurred in the school complex.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Rick grabbed the last of his toast while he slid out and stood up. “Sorry to eat and run.” He gulped the last of his coffee.

“I get it. Duty calls.” Jerry pointed to the bowl of fruit by Rick’s spoon. “You gonna eat that?”

“Nope. Knock yourself out. You’re paying.”

“Hey! You still haven’t told me how you got that hickey on your neck.”

Rick ignored the comment. “I’ll bring the van in later. See you then.” Rick didn’t hear Jerry’s parting shot as he hustled out of Jankhe’s.

When he responded to an emergency summons like this one, Rick often went over possible scenarios and fixes as he drove. But between Walter’s ominous call and the unmuffled bellowing of his vehicle, he could barely think clearly enough to drive across town to the school.

At least the noise covered the whine of brakes and the creaking suspension as he pulled up to the portal marked Eagle Lake Public Schools Maintenance Entrance. Ears reeling, Rick walked around to the back. What tools would he need? He hauled out the heavy charcoal grey metal box with the implements of his trade that he most commonly used. He’d leave his yellow rubber boots in the van until he knew if they’d be necessary.

Pulling open the heavy, institutional, solid steel door, Rick entered the building. His steps echoed in the dimly lit corridor. He turned a corner, feeling the weight of the heavy toolbox. Light streamed from a doorway ahead on his left.

Walter Heinemann looked up from some papers on his desk as Rick crossed at the threshold. A pair of half-moon reading glasses adorned the man’s nose, but no smile appeared on his face.

“Morning, Walter. What’s the problem?” Rick inquired.

“Sit down, Rick.” The white-haired man gestured to a chair.

“Now you have me worried.” He tried a wan smile.

“Sit.” Heinemann repeated.

Rick set down the heavy metal toolbox and lowered himself onto the green faux leather of a chair which might have been new the year Green Bay won the first Super Bowl. Walter loved to rescue old things from the scrap heap.

“What’s going on?”

“That’s the question I had for you.”

Rick frowned. This was the second cryptic conversation of the day. “Look, can we get to the point? Is this about Rita McKee?” He tried to keep the irritation he felt out of his voice.

“It’s about her, and you. I’ve heard the rumors, and I’ve seen the stuff on the net. I couldn’t believe it, and I wanted to hear the truth.”

“Finally, someone who actually asks.” Rick muttered, not quite under his breath.

“Well?”

“Don’t believe the rumors. None of that stuff on Facebook has anything to do with me. And I sure as heck didn’t give Rita McKee a ring.”

“So she’s not your fiancée.”

“No. No way am I marrying Rita McKee.”

Walter sighed. “You’re sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure!”

The old teacher’s face relaxed a bit. “Well. I’m glad that’s cleared up. I have to admit, I was worried.”

“You mean you hauled me out of breakfast at Jahnke’s just to ask me about all that crap?”

“Yes, and no.” The man sighed. He turned to his desk and picked up a folder. “I got some information about that special School Board meeting coming up. I got wind of what your girl – our friend, Rita, is up to.”

Heinemann handed the folder to Rick.

Opening it, he found a sheaf of survey plat maps, showing various features like lot lines and rights of way. Rick turned one of these around to orient the document; he furrowed his brow as he studied it. He turned to the next one; the same parcel, but with different markings. The next was a xeroxed copy of an aerial view; heavy black lines and arrows outlined a large parcel of forested land.

Rick blinked. He recognized landmarks – Lower Lake, the old railroad marshaling yard, the school complex – and his brow furrowed. “These outlines: this is College Hill?”

“Yep.” Walter nodded.

“What’s this for?”

“There’s a proposal to sell off College Hill for development.”

“They can’t do that!” Rick exclaimed.

“Rita thinks they can.”

“What makes her think so?”

“She’s the developer.”

“Wait, wait, you mean …”

“Rita McKee has schmoozed half the School Board into selling College Hill to her, so she can develop it, parcel it, and build a bunch of million-dollar houses on it.” Walter’s voice dripped with scorn.

Rick stared at the photo. Afternoons and evenings spent wandering those woods and trails tumbled out of his childhood memory. His mother’s scattered ashes lay up there, at Prospect Rock. He’d always carry the memory of watching Gus listen to the birds on the trail, entranced. He’d never forget holding Gus close in the evening light as they descended, what, just a week or two ago? Rick could have kissed him then, if he’d had the nerve.

And now it was going to be turned into upscale faux mansions?

“What about the charter? Didn’t the state give the land to the School Board for the specific purpose of building a college on it?”

“That’s true. However, I did a little digging. In cases like this, an entity – the School Board in this case – would have to write an appeal to the Wisconsin State Legislature, asking it to pass a home rule bill, setting aside the original strictures stated in the town charter.”

Rick frowned. “You think that would pass?”

Heinemann sighed. “As long as the local legislative delegation supports the measure, these things get rubber-stamped. You know Gary Leiter. He might as well represent the Chamber of Commerce. Think he’s gonna oppose this?”

“What about the governor? He’s been pretty strong on the environment.”

“No hope there. Again, if the local guys ask for it, and it gets passed by the House and Senate, then it’s traditional for the governor to sign the bill.”

Rick stared at the map again. Arrows marked where roads would be carved into the park. Looking at another page, he saw Rita’s vision of the future, lot lines and all.

“So what’s to be done?”

“At the meeting, someone from Leiter’s office will be there observing. There has to be doubt thrown on the project. Make ‘em wonder if people really want this.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

The older man grinned. “I’m making a few phone calls. Interested folks might have questions, right?”

Rick nodded. “They sure could.”

“And you wouldn’t mind sowing a little doubt, right?”

He grinned. “You mean with something like: ‘Where are high school kids supposed to go smoke?’”

“You’re not helping,” Heinemann said with a grimace.

“Sorry. I’ll try to think of something better by tomorrow.”

“Maybe I’m just an old man, past my sell-by date. But I think the Hill is important.” The veteran teacher looked a little misty-eyed. “So much of the state is flat. This is different, unique. We have a great big moraine left by the glaciers, right in town, looking out over where the waters drained through the rock and dug a channel.”

“And where immigrants dammed it up again to float logs to be sawn into timber to build Milwaukee and Chicago.” Rick recited from what he remembered of seventh grade local history.

“It’s not just a hunk of land.”

“Just how much is the school board being offered for College Hill?”

Walter scratched behind his ear. “I don’t know. The price wasn’t in the documents I found.”

“I wondered about that. How did you happen to get hold of these?” He handed the folder full of maps and plans back.

“There are ways to find this kind of thing out.”

“You didn’t do anything illegal, did you?” Rick asked, eyebrows raised.

“Technically, no. I mean, as building superintendent, I do have keys to everything.” The older man stroked his greying mustache and looked at the file cabinet. “And I might have had to inspect the heat detector in the district offices. And it’s possible a few papers were left lying around in the mailboxes.”

“You could work for the CIA.”

“Nope. I’m just well-informed, at least about this. But not about you, apparently.”

“Meaning what?”

“Well, about your non-engagement to Eagle Lake’s budding real estate queen.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Oh, geez, not that again. If you’d been listening to me at all for the last five months, you’d never have believed it in the first place.”

“Guilty as charged. I’m sorry.” He tried to look contrite. “Anyway, I’m glad to hear you’re not marrying that woman. It would have been a disaster.”

In so many different ways. “Amen to that.”

“But when you do find that special person, promise me you’ll introduce us?”

Rick’s heart skipped a beat. For a split second, he imagined trying to introduce Gus to Walter as his …what? Boyfriend? Partner? Was it even possible? He blinked, and the vision vanished.

“Um, sure. When that happens.”

Yet, as he drove away from the school complex in a deafening roar, Rick’s mind returned to the idea. Maybe, just maybe, he could stop hiding and blending in the shadows. Maybe he could just be more himself.

He thought of the phone call he needed to make to Heinrich Senior and winced. Or maybe it’s best not to fight that battle today.