“CHARMAINE DIGBY TO see Mrs. Ferris,” I told the same uniformed security guard who had stopped me in front of Marietta’s gated community yesterday.
The middle-aged man with the beer belly hanging over his belt gave me a long look before thumbing through the pages on his clipboard. “You’re not on the list.”
Give me a big break. “You remember me from around this time yesterday, right?”
He nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And I was on the list then, right?”
“You sure were.”
“Okay, then will you buzz me in, please?”
“Sorry, you’re not on today’s list.”
Did this guy think he was guarding Fort Knox or something? “Then please call Mrs. Ferris so that she can tell you it’s okay to let her daughter in.”
“I really am sorry, but I’m not allowed to call her before noon.”
Fortunately, I didn’t have to abide by Marietta’s “Do not disturb” notices. “Give me a minute,” I told him while I called her cell phone number.
“Charmaine,” she said, picking up after one ring. “What a nice surprise.”
“Didn’t Gram tell you I was coming over?”
“Uh, she may have mentioned it.”
“Well, I’m at the front gate and …” I squinted at the name embroidered on the security guard’s khaki shirt. “You failed to pass that information along to Hank so I’m not on the list.”
Marietta uttered a less than genteel curse word. “May I speak with him, please?”
I handed Hank my phone, heard him offer his assurances that this inconvenience wouldn’t happen again, and then he said much the same thing when he handed me back my phone.
But I wasn’t as interested in being elevated to VIP status as I was in locating the current Cascara Construction job site. So after I hung up with Marietta, I asked for directions.
Hank promptly scurried over to his guard shack to open the wrought iron gate and returned with a visitor’s map. “Thinking of buying?” he asked after circling the tract of approximately twenty hillside homes at the outer rim of the subdivision that would complete construction at Bayview Estates.
And live even closer to my mother? I forced a smile. “Just taking a gander at the location for my neighbor.”
Giving him a wave, I eased through the open gate before it closed on me, and then snaked past two dozen million-dollar homes until I reached the highest point on the bluff, where I spotted a construction trailer on wheels.
I slowed, checking out the vehicles parked in front of two of the houses being framed. The beater van parked behind a faded blue pickup didn’t have any trees on the side panels, and the other four cars were not new enough to double as company vehicles, so I pulled up in front of the construction trailer and climbed out of Gram’s SUV.
Since I had been short on time this morning, I hadn’t done much with my hair or makeup, and my yoga pants and pink cotton tunic probably made me look like I had taken a wrong turn for an exercise class. But with several heads swiveling as I stepped on a wooden plank that provided a path across one of the muddy lots, I hoped that might work to my advantage.
“Is Mike here?” I asked the scruffy twenty-year-old with the hammer looking down at me from a ladder.
“Mike,” he shouted. “You got company.”
Within seconds, Mike Pollard glowered at me from the second story. “What do you want?”
I shielded my eyes from the glare reflecting off of the puffy white cloud above him. “A minute of your time.”
When a guy who looked like a young version of Gary Carpp appeared over his shoulder, Mike pointed at the aluminum trailer behind me. “Over there.”
Going back the way I had come, I waited by the steps of the trailer as instructed and watched two men pounding nails up on the second story. Neither resembled a Carpp.
I didn’t see any other movement up there, but I wouldn’t be able to tell if there was anyone working at the rear of the house without crossing the street for a better vantage point. And with the scowl hanging from Mike’s brow as he climbed down a ladder, I knew this was not the time to do anything besides plant my feet.
I pasted what I hoped was a pleasant smile on my face while Mike glided across the wooden plank with surprising grace for a big man. But there was nothing the least bit graceful with how he stomped past me up the steps without an acknowledgment of my presence.
“Come on,” he said, holding the door of the trailer open for me.
I felt tremors as if the earth were shifting under my feet as I stepped around a metal desk layered with building plans. “Sorry to pull you away from your work.”
Mike closed the door and took a seat at the desk. “Never mind that. What are you here for?”
I inched closer so that I could see him better in the dim light that four little windows provided the cramped workspace. “I wanted to ask if you’ve had any trouble from Gary or Greg Carpp.”
Mike gave me a long look. “Trouble like what?”
“Like anything beyond ordinary work stuff.”
“I wouldn’t call it trouble.”
I needed him to keep talking. “What exactly?”
“Gary can be a hothead. You find out fast to stay on his good side.”
“Or what?”
“He can get in your face.”
“Like confrontational?”
Removing his ball cap, Mike raked his fingers through his short, dark hair. “I guess.”
“Have you ever heard about him getting physical with anyone?” I asked, thinking about the battery charge that had earned Gary a court date.
Mike’s mouth formed a straight line while he stared at his well-worn running shoes. “Nope.”
That looked more like a yes to me. “Okay. Have you ever heard Gary threaten anybody?
“If this is about Ryan—”
“It’s not. Not directly, anyway.” I inched a little closer. “How about it? Did Gary ever make it sound like he was going to hurt someone?”
Giving me a smirk of contempt, Mike pushed out of the chair. “I need to get back to work, and you need to leave.”
I clasped his forearm, touching solid muscle. “What about Greg?”
“I don’t deal with him. Gary’s the only one I have to answer to.” Mike opened the door. “And I’d like to keep my job.”
I turned to him after he followed me down the steps. “Mike, I have a friend who might be getting pressured to sell to these guys.” It was a little late to use Naomi Easley this way, but with this mountain of a man ready to kick me off his job site, it was the only play I had left. “Should she be concerned about what they might do?”
He shot me a dismissive glance. “They care too much about their professional reputation.”
Okay, then I needed to stop imagining a Carpp brother pushing Naomi Easley’s head below the surface of that water.
“At least I used to think they cared,” he muttered as he walked away.
Dang. Mike might as well have lit a match under my imagination.
* * *
“Where have you been?” my mother asked, waiting for me at her front door wearing a tiger-striped tunic and black yoga pants like mine, only two sizes smaller. And I was pretty sure that she hadn’t found hers at Valu-Mart.
I gave her a quick hug. “I stopped to talk to a guy I met a couple of days ago.”
Her glossy lips curled into a knowing smile. “Does Steve have some competition in the neighborhood?”
“No, nothing like that. This guy’s just someone I met through work.” But I wasn’t here to talk about the men in my life.
“I have to be back at the office in a half hour, so I need to make this fast,” I said, heading to the table where we had lunch yesterday.
“Have you eaten?” Marietta opened her refrigerator. “I have some leftover sesame chicken from last night. And I didn’t make it. Barry did, so you know it will be edible.”
“No, I don’t have time.” I pushed out the chair next to me. “Mom, please sit.”
She fixed her gaze on the chair as if I had attached an electric current to it and then pulled up the cover of her appliance garage. “Sounds like this is a conversation that calls for coffee.”
And that sounded like a stall tactic. “Really, I don’t have time.”
Heaving a sigh, Marietta slammed the cover shut. “Iced tea, then. It’s already made.”
“Fine!” Whatever it took to get her undivided attention.
“Oh, I meant to tell you yesterday,” Marietta said seconds later when she placed two ice-filled tumblers on the table. “Guess who I’ve seen making the rounds on the morning shows.”
I didn’t need to guess. I’d seen him myself. “I know. Chris has been out there, pushing his cookbook.”
Settling her enviably tight tush in the seat next to me, she flicked a gold-bangled wrist as if she were shooing away a fly. “He’s a jerk of the first order, but I’d kill to have his publicist. The man is everywhere.”
“He certainly is.” My ex was also the last person I wanted to talk about today. “I—”
“How are you doing with his other news?”
Marietta rested her soft palm on my left hand and gazed into my eyes so tenderly I had to reach for my tea to cool the burn of threatening tears.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to bury my lie between sips, and then the icy sweet tea washed over my cracked filling and I about jumped out of my skin.
My mother sat at the edge of her seat, her face inches from mine as I pressed my hand to my jaw. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t wish to call my daughter a liar, but it looks to me like you have a sore tooth.”
I pushed the glass of tea away. “It will be okay in a second.”
With a smirk of skepticism tugging at the corner of her mouth, she cupped my chin to inspect every inch of my face. “I don’t think so.”
I felt like we were dancing at the edge of a giant rabbit hole, but I had no intention of jumping in with her. “Mom, really—”
“You’re blocked.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your chi, it’s blocked.”
I leaned back to get out of her reach. “My chi is fine and dandy, and has nothing to do with me biting down on a nutshell and cracking a filling.”
“Oh, my dear. Trust me.” She spread her tapered fingers in front of my face like a magician. “Your blockage is almost palpable.”
“Says you.” And no one else I knew.
“It’s feeding that negativity, so no wonder you’re in pain.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And now I understand why.”
For a woman who had only recently made an attempt to become a part of my life, Marietta hadn’t earned the right to pretend that she understood what made me tick. “Let’s not—”
“It’s Chris swirling around in there,” she said, pointing at my chest.
Okay, this ridiculous dance was over. “It’s not. I—”
“I should have seen it before. Why you hesitated to take the house.”
Because I didn’t want her as my landlord.
“Why the only relationship you seem to be willing to commit to is with a dog.”
“I don’t need you of all people judging my relationships.”
She winced for a nanosecond as if I had landed a physical blow and then gave me the prettiest of fake smiles. “Maybe not. But my darling, as someone who has experienced the benefit of purging negative male energy from her life, let me give you some motherly advice.”
Biting back the curse word at the tip of my tongue, I weighed my alternatives. Listen to Marietta’s half-baked advice or suffer my grandmother’s wrath because I bolted instead of having an honest conversation with my mother. “Fine. Just make it fast. I have to—”
“Get back to work.” Marietta patted my hand. “I know. Sweetheart, I also know how much it hurt when Chris walked out on you.”
Crossing my arms, I stared at the glass tabletop to distance myself from the compassion glinting in her eyes.
“You must realize that you open yourself up to his negative energy every time you get into his old car.”
Good grief. “Really, Mom. It’s just a car.”
“It’s not just a car. It’s his car, full of his touch, his smell.”
“I had it detailed. It doesn’t have the stench of his cologne anymore.”
“Maybe not, but you can’t clean out his energy. Why it probably radiates from the seat every time you get behind the wheel.”
Into my butt? That was a mental image that I needed to purge from my brain.
She flicked her wrist at me again. “No wonder it’s always breaking down.”
“Come on, it’s just an old, temperamental car.”
“Temperamental because he made it that way. Didn’t you tell me that it broke down before you even made it out of California?”
I should never tell her anything.
“And it’s in the shop again. It’s like he cursed it because he couldn’t stand losing it to you, and now you’ll never be free of his curse until you’re free of that car.”
Her droning on about curses sounded way too much like she was quoting a line from one of her old horror movies. “I’m sure the Jag isn’t cursed.” It just acted that way periodically.
“Maybe not literally, but I’m telling you, my darling. It’s time to free yourself from everything that’s keeping the chi from flowing. You’ll feel ever so much better.”
Right. “If we’re going to talk about me freeing myself of negative things, you’re going to have to help me.”
Marietta brightened. “Of course. Anything.”
“You need to respect my privacy.”
“But I do.”
“Not when you make decisions for me, you don’t.”
“But—”
“So, no more cars, no more housing upgrades,” I said, counting each item off with my finger. “No more exercise equipment, or furniture that you think I need. I say when I need something new—especially a car—not you.”
She sniffed, her long lashes shuttering her glistening eyes. “I was only trying to help.”
“Okay, we both know there’s a lot more to that story. But you killed it before it got into the paper, and I appreciate that.”
“I wasn’t trying to use you as a prop, as you put it.” Marietta swiped at a tear, creating a powdery makeup smear. “I just got a little carried away when Renee overheard that you needed a new car.”
“She probably saw an angle she could work to her advantage.”
“Probably. And when she mentioned that she could get me a good deal …” My mother snuck a glance at me. “Well, I do enjoy buying at a discount.”
“I’ve noticed. But it seems like you’ve been acquiring a lot of things lately. It’s not a competition, you know,” I said, trying to inject a little levity into what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation.
Her gaze sharpened. “I do believe that you should respect my privacy as well. Because how I choose to spend my money is my business.”
“Absolutely. We just don’t want you to …” How could I tell my mother that I wasn’t the only one who had concerns about how much of her savings she had blown through since she moved back to town? “You know, until your house in California sells, maybe—”
“My financial situation is just fine, thank you very much.”
I didn’t believe that for a minute, but I had no desire to call Marietta on her bluff and piss her off more than she already was. Not when I required her cooperation to move that new car parked in front of Gram’s.
“Great.” Rising from the table, I grabbed my tote. “On that happy note, I’ve gotta go. But before I do, could I have the keys to the Subaru?”
My mother’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you just make it very clear that you don’t want the car?”
“If I’m going to return it, I need the keys and all the paperwork.”
With a little pout at her lips, Marietta disappeared into the office opposite the great room and met me in the entryway with a clear zippered envelope. “Barry put everything in here.”
“Thanks,” I said, reaching for the envelope but she held on tight.
“Before you do anything, promise me that you’ll think about freeing yourself of that man.”
And his cursed car. Yeah, yeah. “I will. Now, will you do something else for me?”
She cocked her head as if daring me to bring up the subject of money again. “What?”
“If Gary Carpp wants to meet with you again, will you make it after school so that Barry can join you?”
“I don’t understand. Why—”
“There’s something a little off about the guy.”
“Charmaine, really. I think you’re seeing things.”
“Just promise me that you won’t meet with him alone.”
Marietta heaved a pissy sigh. “Fine. I promise. But I assure you. He’s done nothing to demonstrate that he’s anything but a perfect gentleman.”
A shiver trailed down my spine as I imagined Naomi Easley thinking the exact same thing.