nine

The following morning, a clear blue sky sported a few cotton-ball clouds as Sara eased up to the new keypad and punched in the numbers like a pro. The gates spread like open arms greeting her and Buggy-Boo as welcomed guests. She drove through without a hitch, looked in the rearview mirror, and saw the gates still open. She considered backing up to make sure they weren’t caught on something.

“Don’t chance it,” she warned herself and continued on.

Instead of parking in front and walking up the long stretch of stones, she parked at the side where Buggy-Boo had been parked the day before, next to the truck. Facing the stone wall, she marveled again at God’s great creation. Ahead of her rose mighty oaks, stately poplars, leafy maples, tall pines, and shorter dogwoods intermingled with rhododendrons.

After gathering her paraphernalia from the car, she turned toward the house and suddenly stopped at the sight. The stone path wound through an immaculate green lawn. No pots, no bags, no tools. A colorful array of red-and-white, candy-cane striped petunias against a leafy delicate green background, several feet deep, stretched across the full length of the house on both sides.

Her heart sank, remembering Forrest had said his mother wanted a patriotic theme for the Fourth of July. The towels had been patriotic. Maroon and navy were relatives of red and blue. And the Ps had been white. Now they were red, pink, and blue. Oh, doom, despair, and agony on me.

Nope, she warned herself. Get past it!

That resolve, accompanied by a swift mental kick, a deep breath, a quick prayer, and a pseudo-sense of self-confidence, enabled her to advance along the curved flagstone path cutting across the lawn so green it closely resembled the golf course near her parents’ home.

She saw neither Forrest, his friends, nor the pickup truck. But on entering the grounds by the gate, she had followed a flatbed truck filled with lumber until it had turned off onto what appeared to be a private gravel road. Was Forrest down on the property Royce had mentioned, doing his thing—whatever that entailed? Perhaps Chum was with him, since the black lab hadn’t joined the mastiffs loping from the corner of the house to greet her. Her purse and CD player passed Tina’s smell test, and Tate escorted her up the walkway.

Sara rang the doorbell. After the second try, Vivian came and greeted her. “You can just come on in when the door’s open, Sara. All sorts of repairmen and painters are coming today. It will be like Grand Central Station around here, trying to get everything in shape.”

Taking hold of the screen door, Sara walked on in. She forced her glance to sweep past the butler, but she couldn’t help ducking her head slightly, feeling rosy again.

“Oh, go ahead and speak to him,” Viv said. “Everybody does, no matter how many times they’ve seen him.” Her eyes widened. “They have their pet names for him too. Royce calls him Jeeves. I call him Mr. Mohney. Don’t ask me why. But I’ll tell you a little secret. When a family member comes into the house without acknowledging him in some way, I know they have a problem.”

Pretending she didn’t have one, Sara returned the butler’s perpetual smile. “Good morning, Mr. DoLittle.”

Viv laughed. “That’s a new one. I like it.”

“Oh.” Sara said. “Mind if I listen to music while I work?”

“Certainly. There are radios and TVs all over the house.”

“I brought my CD player.”

Viv nodded and smiled. She glanced at her watch. “I’ll be at the Asheville Country Club for much of the morning. Afterwards, I can be reached on my cell phone. Forrest has the number. Oh, he’ll be around since these workmen will be in and out.”

“Anything in particular you want me to do? Besides the weathering?”

“Two other things,” Viv said. “Come on into the kitchen.”

As they walked down the hallway, Vivian said Sara might clean Albert’s room. “He will be here as soon as his court case ends. He expects that to be by tomorrow at the latest.”

Sara set her CD player on the booth. Vivian touched it. “There are electrical outlets on the deck if you wanted to play music while you’re out there.” She reached over for a white cardboard box. “Do you mind running errands too, Sara? We have a couple of things coming up. I’m planning a fund-raising political campaign on the Fourth of July. Not long after that, we’re celebrating Nana’s one hundredth birthday.”

Sara gulped. “One hundred?”

Viv laughed, nodding. “That’s right. A century. One hundred years of—” She interrupted herself with a flick of the wrist. “She’ll tell you all about it when you see her. That is, if you don’t mind doing this. I know Sheena told you housecleaning.”

“No, I don’t mind doing whatever you want done. Frankly, I’m better out-and-about than doing inside work.” She ducked her head. “You may have already suspected that—after the towels.”

Viv touched Sara’s arm. “Now, Sara. That was an honest mistake. You get past that. We need you. With the family coming in, Nana’s party. . .” She reached for a white cardboard box, opened it, and smiled at the contents.

The napkins looked soft and white, embossed in gold around the edges. Sara read, “Elizabeth Margaret Gibson Marshall,” and underneath “100th Birthday.” Sara touched the clear plastic wrapper. “They’re beautiful.”

“Aren’t they?” Viv closed the lid. “Could you drop these off at Highlands Retirement Center? You could leave early and do that, if you would.”

“I’d be glad to.”

“Let Nana see them. Then she can tell you how to find the activities director.”

“I’ve been there many times with the church,” Sara said. “Is she in the health-care unit?”

“You’d think at her age, she would be. But no, she has her own apartment.”

Sara knew where those were.

“I would appreciate this so much. Nana will be pleased to know you’re a friend of the family. But be warned. She’ll talk your ear off. Just say you have to go.”

Viv started to walk away, then stopped. “Oh. The air-conditioning company will come to clean out the vents. Repairmen will be on the roof, then the attic, before repairing the wall and window casing in the room at the front of the house. If you see anything that needs to be repaired, let them know. Or tell Forrest. He’s around here somewhere. I told him to be on the lookout for everyone too.”

“Should I clean Forrest’s room?”

“That’s where the water damage is. So, no.” She lifted her hands and stroked a glossy fingernail. “Forrest won’t be sleeping here at the house for awhile,” she said quietly, then added brightly, “But I must be on my way. Make yourself familiar with the house, Sara. You’ll find whatever you need in closets on each floor. You can make a list of anything you don’t find. I must run. There’s so much to do before the Fourth.”

Sara felt she could handle the cleaning chores and the errand. Viv said good-bye and left the kitchen. Sara picked up her CD player and went out onto the deck. She looked for an outlet and noticed a huge stone fireplace. She’d never before seen a fireplace on a deck.

She plugged in the CD player in an outlet near it, then walked over to the railing. Below lay a setting that would be fit for Southern Living magazine in a month or so. Sara looked down on a flagstone patio. Walkways meandered through the yard, separating sitting areas from flower and vegetable gardens laden with last year’s remains and the current year’s weeds. Off to the left lay a swimming pool covered with a black tarp. Rock walls caressed the hillsides.

She breathed in spring’s fragrance of pine and honeysuckle.

Viv had said Forrest was out there somewhere. Why didn’t he sleep in the house? She didn’t like the thought, but it persisted. Was he just friends with Hal and Skip, or were they all inmates who had to return to the halfway house each night?

She gazed at the distant poplars, oaks, maples, and pines and detected the sound of hidden activity beyond. What went on out there was as obscure as Forrest Paridy himself.