Did they? Or were they so enmeshed in their electronic gizmos that the simple pleasure of a miniature world would no longer intrigue them?
“The Neighbors Together crew seems pretty interested,” I said. “What does Kobe think?”
“Do you know, I don’t believe he’s ever seen it. After Gerry left, I stopped having the kids in. Just didn’t have the heart, and then the set fell into disrepair, as you can see. If I get it cleaned up . . .”
“Maybe you should ask Kobe and his little gang to help you.”
She looked up at me, alarmed. “Kobe’s joined a gang?”
“Oh, no, not a real gang. But he seems to travel in a pack. They’re too young for a real gang.”
“Oh, believe me—they’re not too young. You’d be surprised how the gangs pick up aimless kids, as young as nine or ten, and begin to indoctrinate them.”
Something else occurred to me.
“You know, I was thinking about how we might help you fix up the rest of this place. The classic lines of this house, the woodwork and the built-ins, are amazing. I bet my dad could help with the train set, too. And he’s great with kids.”
Actually, Dad was gruff and demanding, but a lot of kids responded to that sort of treatment.
“Do you think so? I have to admit that as much as I like children, one of the reasons I stopped opening my home to them was that as a single woman, I felt a little nervous around the older teens. But if your father was here as well . . .”
“Couldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Would he have the time?”
“Oh, he’s got all the time in the world.”
“Mel?” Caleb called from the interior doorway. “Um . . . Sorry to interrupt.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Bill’s busy and I think”—he kept glancing nervously at Etta—“I think you should see this.”
“Sure. Excuse me, Etta. I should probably get back to work.”
“Oh, of course! It is so good of you all to do all this for me. I don’t know how to thank you.”
I smiled. “Sometimes charity is its own reward.”
I stepped into the hallway and confronted Jefferson, the fraternity brother, who was holding a .38 Special.
Chapter Five
I froze.
“Jefferson . . . ?” I began, taking care to speak low and slow.
“Oh, hey, Cap’n. No worries,” he said, flipping the gun around and handing it to me, the muzzle pointed toward the floor and the butt toward me, as was proper safety procedure. “I checked; it’s not loaded.”
Gingerly, I took the gun from him and double-checked. He was right; it was empty. I glanced at Caleb and three other college boys standing in a semicircle.
“Who brought a gun to the worksite?” I demanded.
“It’s mine,” said Etta from behind me. “Don’t worry; I know how to use it—I go out to the shooting range at least once a month, up by San Quentin.”
Dear Ms. Etta Lee, retired schoolteacher, was getting more interesting by the moment.
As I carefully handed the gun over to her, she explained: “It’s for protection. I told you, this used to be a rough neighborhood. I’m a single woman now. And to tell you the truth, I enjoy the feel of it in my hands.”
That clinched it: Etta and my father were perfect for each other.
• • •
By four o’clock, we were winding down. Dad was conducting a careful walk-through and checking items off the punch list, while the majority of the volunteers were busy with the final cleanup of the jobsite and the tools, which is no small thing. With our energy flagging, we were digging into the sugary snacks. I was helping myself to what I swore would be my last Krispy Kreme—for the day, at least—when I glanced across the street.
A shiny silver Lexus was pulling into Monty’s driveway.
Great. Our house sponsor, Ray Buckley. I blew out an exhausted breath. I should have called to let him know about what had happened yesterday and that the project was on hold. Between the commotion and chatting with the police, it had completely slipped my mind.
It was common in the Bay Area, despite—or perhaps because of—its rampant entrepreneurialism, to deride successful capitalists for their greed. Then along came someone like Ray Buckley. Ray had donated a check for Monty’s project that was so generous, the organization had allotted part of it for Ms. Lee’s house. Without the contributions of businesses and businesspeople, Neighbors Together wouldn’t have been able to accomplish half of what it did.
“Ray, how nice to see you,” I said, hailing him from Etta’s side of the street.