Chapter 16

Chapter 16

QUEEN MAUDEY

Michele walked into her new studio about 9:00 on an August morning. She liked what she saw. There was a place for her wheel, a place for drying product, a long bench for working and cutting clay, and a place for a kiln.

Now she had to figure out how to get the equipment from Grand Rapids to Cataract.

Michele's thoughts shot into the ether when she heard the low, guttural rumph of a Harley firing up. She turned her head, trying to target in on the sound source. It was coming from Don's place!

Don rolled past her cottage. The Harley he rode thrummed with confident, reserved power. He wore a helmet, sunglasses, a sleeveless sweatshirt, shorts and sandals. He still looked good on the Hog. He waved to Michele. She waved back.

Don kept his speed and rumbling very low out of respect for the neighborhood. He nodded to the neighbors he saw. They nodded back. He saw Maudey's broad, flowered keister as he neared her lakeside cottage. She was on her hands and knees, wearing a house dress and wrestling with the begonias that grew against her cottage.

Maudey heard the motorcycle and swiveled so she sat on her right hip. She saw Don looking in her direction and signaled with a dirty trowel that he should stop. He did.

Don let the Harley throb lowly in neutral as he waited for Maudey to grunt and heave herself upright. He knew it implied a pause, an impending departure, a...

"Turn that damn thing off!" she demanded as she worked her arthritic legs toward him. He did.

Michele noted the engine's noise stopping.

"Saw the cop car buzzin' up to your place," Maudey announced. "heard it on the police scanner, too. Why'd you have to shoot some Marines?"

"I didn't shoot any Marines, Maudey. There was no shooting."

"I heard there was shooting!"

"Did you hear any shooting?"

Maudey thought about that and replied, "No, but that don't mean nothing. Sometimes I don't hear thunder and lightning, and other people can't understand it. Why did you shoot those Marines?"

Don looked at Maudey for a few seconds. He didn't know how to respond, but he knew he'd better take a stab at it.

"A prissy rich guy tried to make me paint a picture of his cottage."

Maudey nodded. She was processing information today.

"He was a lawyer."

Maudey made a sour face.

"He threatened me with a concealed pistol."

Maudey looked shocked.

"In the end, his wife, who it turns out is a Marine, kicked hell out of him."

Maudy's head dipped and recovered in surprise. She asked, "No shit?"

"No shit."

"Any broken bones?"

"Do noses and ribs count?"

"WOW!" Maudey shouted. "Do you have her name and address?"

Don wagged his head back and forth to clear it, and asked, "Why do you want to know her name and address?"

"So I can sponsor her to the Daughters of Boudicca."

"You're a Daughter of Boudicca?" Don asked, incredulously.

Maudey moved closer. She held the dirt-encrusted trowel like a stabbing tool.  It was easy to imagine her on a battlefield, gripping her opponent with one hand, and thrusting the trowel upwards with the other hand.

"You got a problem with that, Bree?"

Don, straddling a very heavy motorcycle, did some quick calculating. He didn't hold the high ground figuratively or literally. Time to be more smart than smart-ass.

"No," he said, bowing his head as he held the handlebars, "My Queen."

Maudey brightened like an energized stage light and said, "Good answer!" and clapped him so hard on his shoulder that he and the Hog almost tipped into the street.

Michele heard the Harley start up again, and wondered, as she puttered in her studio, when she would get a ride.