Nobody's Fool

bright yellow kitchen.
    But today, as Miss Beryl stared up into her soup cupboard, anxious to blame her offishness, her discombobulation, on puzzles and wrong turns and strangers with guns, she had to admit that these were not to blame. No, it was because she had done a bad thing, and her stomach had not been right since she did it.
    She would not soon forget the look on Sully’s face the morning he’d told her Clive Jr. was right, it would probably be best if he moved out come the first of the year. He’d stopped in on his way to work the second day after the terrible events outside her house and said, as he always did, “Well, I see you’re still alive,” the old joke taking on an extra dimension—even Sully seemed to realize this—when strangers started shooting rifles at the house next door, meaning, in fact, to shoot at your house. Sully was carrying his work boots and looking around for the Queen Anne to sit in. “What’d you do with my chair?”
    â€œMy son’s fiancée sat in it and broke it,” Miss Beryl told him. She’d taken the pieces to a man in Schuyler Springs named Mr. Blue, who’d claimed over the phone that he could repair anything.
    Miss Beryl was still miffed with the Joyce woman, whose personalityhad not improved upon further acquaintance. She’d accompanied Clive Jr. the evening of the shooting incident, about which she voiced a great many entirely irrelevant opinions. In fact, the woman had opened her mouth and not shut it again for half an hour. The entire culture, she explained, was in rapid decline. The evidence was everywhere. Why, she herself could barely stand to watch the local news. There used to be a thing called neighborhoods, but not anymore. Why, even in her own neighborhood in Lake George things were happening that you associated with New York City or New Jersey. Animals, these people were, and nothing but. On and on she went, a juggernaut of personal opinion. By way of revenge Miss Beryl had gone into the kitchen and served the woman an extra-strong cup of “decaf.”
    Oddly enough, Sully, who was famous for refusing to assume the mantle of even the lightest responsibility, acknowledged this one. “The chair was probably my fault,” he admitted sadly. “I noticed it felt wobbly the last couple times I sat in it. I should have said something.”
    He was still standing there in the middle of the room, work boots in hand, looking to Miss Beryl even more like a ghost than usual, his brows knit thoughtfully. “In fact,” he added, “I should have fixed it. I meant to, actually.”
    Miss Beryl had almost interrupted him, told him forget it, as if that were necessary with Sully, but he seemed so deep in uncharacteristic thought that Miss Beryl had said nothing.
    â€œAnyhow, listen,” he said, snapping out of it. “If I left at the end of the month, do you think you could find another renter?”
    â€œWhere would you go?” Miss Beryl had wondered out loud, realizing even as she spoke that her question had contained an unintended insult by suggesting that there was no place else in the wide world prepared to welcome him.
    Fortunately, Sully neither heard the insult nor shared her doubt. “I’ll find a spot,” he shrugged. “This town’s always about half empty. I could use a smaller place anyhow. In fact, I could probably get away with a room and a bath. I never use the kitchen. I just don’t want to leave you in the lurch, is all.”
    â€œI don’t
need
a renter, Donald,” she assured him. “I’ve enjoyed your company.” Realizing that this was a foolish observation since he was there only to sleep and bathe, she added, “knowing you were around.”
    â€œI haven’t
been
around that much,” he admitted. “And I wasn’t around Friday when I should have been …”
    â€œHe’d have just shot you dead,” Miss Beryl told him. “Your presence would have just made things worse.”
    â€œWell, thanks for saying so, Mrs. Peoples.” Sully grinned wryly. “But I have this idea my leaving will make things quieter. That’s what your son thinks, and he could be right for once. Nobody can be wrong all the while. Not even The Bank.”
    This, in fact, had been Miss Beryl’s own reasoning on the subject, so she didn’t disagree. “If you change your mind,