Secrets of Slaters Falls

Stop Thinking About Life, Enjoy It More

Donna Trembley paid no attention to the commotion in front of the First Trust Bank as she walked downtown to her waitressing job at the Kup & Kettle, Slaters Falls' favorite greasy spoon.

She fidgeted with her hair net and thought it was a shame to hide her pretty bleached-blonde hair. So what if a strand falls into some old man's soup, she thought, at least I could run my fingers through my hair suggestively if a decent looking guy ever walked into the diner. I could shake it like one of those women in the shampoo commercials and drive the guy wild.

Like a hunk would ever walk into that dump, she thought. Well, there was one possibility, but he probably wouldn't come in today. Then she'd be stuck, as usual, with those lecherous old-timers who loved to pinch her petite behind when she walked by their tables.

Donna was always in what her mother called "one of those moods" when she was on her way to work. She hated everything she saw as she walked through Slaters Falls.

To a tourist, it was the picturesque and perfect small New England town. A gazebo with neatly arranged flowers stood next to a brick building labeled Town Hall. Mothers strolled with baby carriages by the same buildings by which their own beloved mothers had taken them a generation earlier. Shopkeepers still swept the sidewalks in front of their little stores every day. Most people exchanged pleasantries when they passed each other on the streets.

To Donna, it was all so sickening and boring. It never changed. She had worked at the Kup & Kettle part time in high school and she had enjoyed it then. Her friends would come in and visit her. She always got in trouble for talking to them too long and neglecting the other customers, but she didn't care.

Of course, she never would have guessed that ten years later, this would be her full time job. Day in and day out, she walked to the stupid diner to serve the same stupid people the same stupid food to earn her meager salary and her meager tips. She would have called it a "mundane existence" if she knew what the word "mundane" meant.

The most exciting thing that happened at work in the last six months was when an elderly tourist stopped in and ordered a salad for lunch. "What kind of dressing would you like for that, ma'am?" Donna asked.

Donna could tell from her clothing and manner that she was sophisticated. Her voice was proper and pleasant as she said, "Vinegar and water please."

Donna tried to correct her politely as doing so in any other way would jeopardize her tip. Instead of saying like she really wanted to, "You dumb broad, I think you mean oil and vinegar," she said sweetly. "You're sure you want vinegar and water?"

After several attempts, Donna was about to give up and the woman said, "Oh, good heavens, young lady, vinegar and water? Is that what I've been saying?"

Donna nodded. The woman continued, "I'm so embarrassed. I've been ordering a douche for my salad!"

They both laughed and the woman left a five-dollar tip.

Donna lived with her parents and brothers in the lower class section of town. Her mother, Theresa Trembley, was a clerk at Harrison's Department Store while her father and brother Roy were both mechanics at her father's garage.

A customer once remarked to Donna, "Isn't that quaint? You work with greasy spoons, while your father and brother work with greasy wrenches." Donna feigned a polite smile and later told the cook to spit on the lady's hamburger. When he refused, Donna simply did it herself.

Donna knew what people said about her neighborhood. "You want to end up living there?" the middle-class mothers asked their lazy teenagers when they brought home bad report cards. "That's what's going to happen to you if you don't start applying yourself and buckle down to your studies."

Donna's section of Slaters Falls dated back to the founding of the town. Originally, most of the residents were mill workers, those honest and hard working, but perpetually poor, laborers. Many of the old mills still stood along the banks of the French River, though most were abandoned or in a state of major disrepair.

All her neighbors were factory workers, retail workers, or semi-skilled laborers. The Trembley house, like so many around it, was a cramped single-family home on a minute parcel of land.

The other style in the neighborhood was tenement housing. Donna walked by the tenements every day. When she looked up and saw the laundry hanging from the third floor porches, it made her sick to her stomach.

Donna dreamed of having a husband and a home in the middle class section of town, which was developed during the 1960's and the 1970's. She loved the suburban, quiet neighborhoods with their spacious single-family homes and sprawling manicured lawns.

Like a little girl playing house, she imagined herself a lawyer's wife. Her fantasy neighbor would say, "How awful it is our husbands have to commute all the way to Boston everyday."

Donna would respond, "It's so much better than living in the city, though, don't you think? We tried that for a while, but the condo in New York was simply too small for all the things my husband buys me. This way we get the best of both worlds. Our husbands are partners in an international law firm and we get to live in these beautiful homes."

There was one other section of town on which Donna rarely wasted a daydream. That was the upper class section that was originally inhabited by the wealthy mill owners in the 1800's and early 1900's. Now the mansions and the estates belonged to a few gutsy millionaire entrepreneurs and of course the Harrison family and their "old money."

Thinking of her own family again, Donna was proud of her brother, Randy, for he became a Slaters Falls Police Officer. That was the only respectable job any of them held in her opinion. That was at least middle class. She vowed that she would rise to that level someday. She would do it the old-fashioned way- by marrying into it.

Lately, she noticed that Jason Farinelli had been paying a little extra attention to her when he came into the diner. Jason Farinelli, she smiled as she said the name to herself over and over.

His father was the Chief of Staff at Central Massachusetts Medical Center. Now that was the kind of family into which Donna Trembley intended to marry.

* * *

Michael Harrison sat behind his desk at Harrison Enterprises. He had a brooding look about him, like he was always on the verge of making some earth-shattering decision.

When people spoke to him, he looked at them intently, taking in every word and studying them. His friends often remarked that he was a great listener and they were grateful for his companionship.

He not only listened, he empathized. He made the other person's problems his own and because of that, it was easy for the world to overwhelm him.

"That Michael, he thinks too much," the Executive Admins at Harrison Enterprises all agreed at lunch on several occasions.

"Poor Mike, if he'd just stop thinking about life, he might enjoy it more," his cousin Nancy said.

"Mikey Harrison, you'll be an old man before you are twelve," his kindergarten teacher once told him. She was right.

Michael's office was surprisingly small for one belonging to a Harrison. That was how Michael wanted it, though. It was a self-imposed differentiation. Michael never felt quite comfortable enjoying the perks and the advantages that came with being a member of the high and mighty Harrison family.

George Harrison, the reigning monarch of Harrison Enterprises, as well as the Harrison family, was Michael's grandfather's brother. That meant George was Michael's great uncle.

Michael's parents died in a car accident when he was a baby so Michael had even been raised with his cousin Nancy in the Harrison mansion in Slaters Falls. Still, he never felt that he was a full member of the family. There was something that kept him separated from the rest of them on some level.

The people of Slaters Falls made no such segregation. A Harrison was a Harrison was a Harrison. Michael was no exception.

All of them were to be feared, respected, and deferred to in public, even if to be reviled and envied in private.

Michael knew how they felt and wished he could change their perceptions. That would be like trying to stop a boulder during a landslide.

As Vice President of Advertising and Public Relations for Harrison Enterprises, Michael had plenty of work to do, but he couldn't concentrate on this particular day because of the tiny box on his desk, the one with the power to change his life forever.

He looked at it from every angle. He opened it and peeked inside. Everything was as he left it when he had last performed the same ritual half an hour earlier.

He thought about Robyn Farinelli. He couldn't wait to see her reaction.

* * *

It was a bright Saturday afternoon in early May. Slaters Falls Memorial Park, located just outside the downtown area, was alive with fresh green foliage as well as human activity for the Annual May Day at Memorial Park Celebration.

The carnival rides whipped the children and teenagers through the air. The smell from the concession stands beckoned all it reached. The doughboy stand was the most popular as the taste of the fried dough was an allowable exception to even the strictest of diet plans.

"Dunk the Dunce" was a popular game booth in which townsfolk sat with a dunce cap on a plank above a tank of water. Three chances for a dollar were all it took to hit the target and dunk your favorite resident of Slaters Falls.

Things were a bit tempered because of the other activity that day – Carl Courant's viewing hours and memorial service at Gloeckner's Funeral Home.

Carl's son, Nathan, had outraged the Episcopal minister when he informed him that the services would only be held at the funeral home and then his father would be cremated. There would be no church involved.

The mayor offered to postpone the May Day Celebration for a week out of respect for Carl and his contributions to the community. Nathan insisted that was unnecessary and that his father would never want to be responsible for disappointing the children who looked forward to the May Day event all year long.

Robyn Farinelli and her boyfriend, Cal Grayson, had already paid their respects to the Courant family. The sadness of the funeral home was long behind them as they stood in line for the Ferris Wheel; it was Robyn's favorite ride and she was as excited as a schoolgirl.

"Isn't this fun?" she asked.

Cal Grayson stood next to her clad in his signature leather jacket despite the pleasant weather. Several inches taller than Robyn, he looked down and smiled at her, but there was no warmth behind the smile. Robyn was 28 and Cal was 32. They had been dating for about a year. Robyn was so love struck that these moments of Cal's non-interest in her or what she was saying were always lost on her.

From the top of the Ferris Wheel, they could see practically the whole town. This physical height did nothing though, to compensate for Robyn's low self-esteem.

It was curious that she should be afflicted with such a problem. She thanked God everyday that she was no plain-Jane bookworm like her sister. Robyn had the kind of face and body that could be made up and dressed up in any way and still look good.

Some women looked great in jeans and a sweater, but were helplessly lost in a ball gown and vice versa. Others could be stunning in lingerie, but would look full of pretense if they were to wear pearls and a long skirt to church.

Not Robyn Farinelli, she looked good no matter how dressed or undressed she was. She knew it and so did Cal who was no stranger to seeing her in either state.

If a versatile body weren't enough, she had a happy and uneventful childhood.

"The Harrison's may be the richest family in town, but I'd rather be raised in Salvatore and Delores Farinelli's household any day," the employees at the hospital used to say.

"The Farinelli's are the four most well adjusted children, I've ever seen," their teachers always said to each other in the faculty room.

"Can't go wrong to have a doctor for a father and a nurse for a mother," the neighbors commented.

Despite it all, Robyn was never happy with herself. She was thankful for her job as an assistant administrator at Central Massachusetts Medical Center, which she and the younger people in town called CMMC. Yet, she wondered if she would have been offered the job if not for her father's position and influence.

Robyn thought of none of this as the giant wheel brought her up and down. She only thought of Cal Grayson and how much she loved him. She squeezed his hand to reassure her that he was still sitting next to her.

When he squeezed her hand back, a feeling of tranquility and satisfaction went through her. Robyn's only happiness came from believing that a man loved her.

Cal wasn't from Slaters Falls so right away that made him suspect to many people. Robyn dismissed those original "exercise caution" comments of her friends and family as an unfair prejudice towards Cal. After all, Cal was perfect, she reasoned, why couldn't they see that?

As they stepped off the ride, Cal asked simply, "Ice cream?" Like a little girl, Robyn playfully clapped her hands and agreed.