Chapter 2

Dale’s doorbell rang and he opened his front door. Tiffany stood on his porch. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi. Thanks for buying the yard signs. Every bit helps.”

“Fifty at two bucks each seems reasonable.” He followed her to his drive after locking his front door.

Tiffany opened the trunk of a silver older-model Kia and removed a cardboard carton. “Here -- you take half and I’ll take half. Also there are brochures and doorknob tags.” She handed him a laminated card on a cord. “This is your ID tag. Now you’re an official Jan Maarten for Governor volunteer.”

“For starters we’ll plant a sign right in the middle of my yard.” He took one and poked the prongs into the ground. “This neighborhood is suburban but the houses are too far apart to walk, especially carrying a carton. We’ll have to drive. You go East and I’ll go West. We’ll meet here at five and figure out dinner.”

“See you at five.”

Tiffany backed her car out of his drive. Dale carried his box to his garage. He punched in a key code and an overhead door rolled up. After placing his carton in the trunk of his Mercedes he backed out and headed toward a neighboring house.

Dale rang the doorbell and a middle-aged man answered the door. “Dale, what brings you here?”

“Hi, Brian. I’m campaigning for Jan Maarten for Governor,” he replied. “I have a brochure...: He handed the flyer over.

“You’re campaigning for Jan Maarten?”

“Yes. I think she’s done a great job since being mayor and I think she’ll bring change to the state. Remember, the primary is next month and your vote matters. Would you be interested in a free yard sign?”

“Uh ... No thanks, Dale.” Brian turned and closed the door.

This is not going to be a productive afternoon, Dale thought, not in this neighborhood at least.

Dale pulled into his drive and parked in his garage. He was heading to his front door when he spotted Tiffany’s car approaching. She hopped out and sprinted toward him. “Did you have any luck?”

“Not much. I gave away seven yard signs.”

“I’d say that’s pretty good in this neighborhood. I only gave away four. Maybe tomorrow we can canvass closer to the city limits.”

“In a less affluent part of town.” he remarked. “The folks in this part of the county think their interests are best served by the current administration.”

“The goal of the signs is to raise awareness and remind voters that the primary is next month.”

“Any ideas for dinner? The Palace again?”

Her eyes brightened. “You know I love The Palace. My treat this time.”

Driving separate cars they arrived at the diner and sat across from each other. “Last time, your fish sandwich looked so appealing,” Dale said, “I think that’s what I’m going to order.”

“I was going to say the same about your cheeseburger.”

“So, are you going to order a malt?”

“No -- vanilla is my go-to shake flavor.”

Their server took their orders. Tiffany sipped from her water glass. “I’m really happy you’re helping with Jan’s campaign,” she said.

“I am so fed up with the current administration. This is a purple state, but Chris Strider got swept into office on the red wave of the last election. Ever since it’s been nothing but a cash grab for the wealthy.”

“Oh, I know,” she replied. “I think Jan Maarten is a strong enough candidate to take back the governorship.” Their server set plates before them and placed the check within Dale’s reach. Tiffany leaned over, picked it up and placed bills from her bag on the table.

“I like to think of myself as a little-L libertarian,” Dale remarked. “I’m fiscally conservative but socially liberal. I don’t like the government telling me what I can and can’t do. That said, I believe in having safe and solid infrastructure. I want the roads paved and the bridges repaired. You know I’m not religious, but I grew up going to a church that always reached out to the poor. No one should go hungry or lack a roof over their heads.”

“That sums up Jan Maarten’s platform exactly,” Tiffany replied.

“Strider’s platform seems to be, cut programs and cut taxes, especially for the upper tier. I wouldn’t mind paying a bit more in taxes to fund the programs I just mentioned.”

“I agree. There’s a smugness about him that I find very off-putting.”

“Our party’s candidates in this state always seem to be wimpy,” Dale continued. “Jan is the strongest one I’ve seen in a long time.”

“I have a really good feeling about this,” Tiffany added. “I think she’s going all the way.”

Dale finished his malt. “Are you done?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m done.”

“Swing by the house tomorrow afternoon. We’ll get out a map and figure out how to get the most out of those signs.”

“Will do. Thanks for everything, Dale.”

“Thank you for dinner.”

Together they headed to the parking lot and drove their separate ways.

Dale reviewed logs of a security stress test he had performed on a client’s network. He powered down his computer and headed into the kitchen. Taking a frozen pot pie from his freezer he slid it into his oven. Then he switched on the television and turned to the six o’clock news.

“Tiffany!” Dale exclaimed and turned to the television.

“Tiffany, tell us what you know.”

“All I know is I came home from work and found the fire trucks and squads. I was told the whole building is on fire and we can’t go in.”

“This must have been a shock to you.”

“Oh, it certainly is. I’m worried for some of the other families with small children and pets. It’s horrible.”

“Now we’re turning to the Fire Chief...”

Dale grabbed his phone and placed a call to Tiffany’s number. The call was answered by her voice mail. He paced in his kitchen placing call after call with no answer. His timer sounded and he removed his dinner, sat and ate it unenthusiastically.

That evening he made calls at half hour intervals to no avail. Finally he turned on the late news for an update on the fire. He learned one tenant was unaccounted for. After one last unsuccessful call he flopped on his bed for an uneasy night’s sleep.

He arose with morning’s light, showered and dressed himself. When the clock read seven he picked up his phone and placed a call. This time she answered.

“Tiffany!” he exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, Dale ... I’m alive, at least. They say an elderly gentleman on the second floor didn’t make it out in time.”

“I tried to call you all night.”

“My phone’s battery was dead and needed a charge. Of course that meant going out and buying a charger.”

“Where are you now?” he asked.

“I’m in a room at the Anchor Motor Inn, off Sedgwick.”

“I think I’ve been past the place.”

“The Red Cross put me up here for a couple nights but I need to find some place more permanent. Jan told me to take as much time as I need, but I know she needs me, Dale, with the campaign revving up. I don’t want to take time house-hunting and then there’s the rent and security deposits ... I had renter’s insurance but filing that claim and waiting for the payment will take time, too. I’m at a loss, Dale.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you stay here, at the house?”

“Your place? Dale, that’s a wonderful offer, but I’m not sure how well we would work as room-mates.”

“That’s not quite what I meant. There’s an in-law apartment over the garage that my grandmother used to use. It’s furnished and self-contained with a separate entrance, kitchen, bath, single bedroom and a sitting and dining area. When I moved into the house I made some improvements to it, figuring I’d convert it into an Air-BNB. At the end I realized it wouldn’t be worth the hassle so the place is vacant. You can live there, rent-free, until you can get back on your feet -- until the general election is over, at least.”

“I don’t know, Dale. I hate to impose.”

“It’s no imposition. It’ll cost me nothing to have you move in. You can be on your own ... have as much or as little to do with me as you desire. You need a place. I have a place. It’s a no-brainer to me.”

“I still don’t know.”

“At least come by the house and look at it, will you?”

“All right. I’ll swing by after dinner.”

“Swing by before dinner. Then we can have dinner together.”

“All right, I’ll see you at five.”

Dale canceled the call. He grabbed the keys to the apartment and headed outside and up the steps leading to the door. Inside he began sprucing up the place. He opened windows for fresh air, made sure the water taps worked and the toilet flushed.

When five PM rolled around he turned on his oven and placed a foil baking dish from the freezer in it. His doorbell rang. Dale let Tiffany in. She wore business attire but was bare-legged. “Come in,” he said.

“I’m sorry I don’t look my best. I basically have the clothes I wore to work yesterday. I’ll spend some time rebuilding my wardrobe. I am all right, Dale. I will bounce back, and I didn’t lose anything irreplaceable.”

“Let’s go look at the apartment.”

Dale led her outside and up the stairs to the apartment over the garage. “After you.”

Tiffany looked around. “Dale -- this is nice. This is nicer than my old place.” She stepped into the small kitchen and ran her hand along the counter-top. “Quartz ... what kind of range is this?”

“Induction,” he replied. “I have one like it downstairs. I love it -- it’s as fast and responsive as gas but easier to clean and very energy efficient.” He pointed to a mini-split air handler on the wall. “When I converted it for Air BNB I put this in for heat and air conditioning. The place is its own zone. Before the heat fed from the second floor zone and it was always too hot in summer and too cold in winter. “The sofa converts to a full-sized bed. Over here’s the bath.”

“Tub and shower. My place only had a standing shower. I do love a soak now and then.”

“Bedroom is over here.”

“Is that a queen-size bed?” she asked.

“It is. With the sofa bed, the place sleeps four.”

“This is so charming, Dale.” She approached a door equipped with a throw-bolt. “Where does this lead?”

“Downstairs.” He opened the door and switched on a light in the stairwell. “There’s another door downstairs with a throw-bolt on the other side. When I was making this a rental unit I installed the throw-bolt, and the second door. This door can only be opened from this side, and the other door only from that side. My idea was, when the place was rented I’d bolt both doors. When it was vacant, I’d open them so I could easily service the place without going outside.”

“That makes sense. Privacy for the tenant and security for you.”

“You won’t find a better place for the price.”

“I won’t find a better place, period.”

He held the key in front of her face. “So, what do you say?”

“I accept.” She took the key from him.

“I put half a frozen lasagna in the oven. It’s more than enough for the two of us.”

“After dinner I should go and find some clothes.”

“There’s a new strip mall not too far from here. You can probably find some casual stuff at a good price.”

“Good idea. I’ll go over there.”

“I’ll come with you. I’m in the market for some khakis and some polo shirts.”

Dale heard his doorbell. He opened the door. “Tiffany -- come in. You don’t need to use the front door. Just come down the stairs.”

“But you said you kept that door bolted,” she replied.

“Knock and I’ll open the door. I’ll know who’s on the other side.”

“Something smells good,” she said and headed toward his kitchen.

“I’m making my four-pepper chili, with my own home-made chili powder. It’s a big recipe and I was going to surprise you with some you could use for lunches or dinners.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

“Since the surprise is ruined, would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I’d love to. Do you know what I think goes well with chili? Corn bread. I’m not a great cook, Dale, but it’s one thing I know how to make.”

“What goes into it?”

“Simple stuff -- corn meal, flour, baking powder, milk and an egg.”

“I have all that.”

“Oh, also an eight-inch cake pan.”

“I have that, too.”

“Would you let me use your kitchen?”

“Of course.”

She approached his dual wall ovens. “These look like what’s upstairs, except these are double and upstairs is a single.”

“They are the same make.”

“I haven’t figured out how to use it.”

“It’s a touch pad. Under the upper press bake and then punch in your temperature. Then press start.”

“Got it.” Dale set her ingredients on the counter and returned to stirring his pot of chili. Tiffany began stirring batter in a mixing bowl. “Dale ... I wanted to ask a favor of you.”

“What favor?”

“Jan is holding a rally tomorrow in Middlefield.”

“Middlefield? I hope she’s prepared for a low turnout. This county is so red you can see the glow from outer space.”

“It’ll be at Delanson College.”