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At a hotel near the Kansas City airport, they got two hotel rooms. Though Robin disliked spending the money, she was almost desperate for some time to herself. Cam and Hua were willing to share; in fact they seemed to have lots to talk about. Hua was patient with Cam’s hesitant speech, and Cam gravely taught Hua life hacks like how to operate a vending machine and take pictures with a cell phone. Either Hua liked playing one video game after another or he pretended to for the sake of politeness.
With a few hours to herself, Robin took a long shower, noting she was almost out of her favorite coconut-scented conditioner. Have to pick some up soon. As the hot water ran, she hung a clean but rumpled outfit in the bathroom so the steam would dispel the wrinkles. Her carry-on was meant for weekend vacations and wasn’t nearly big enough for life on the road. She kept a plastic tub in the car and took clean clothes from it as she needed them.
I should get a bigger suitcase next time I’m near a mall.
After the shower she filed her nails, which were sadly neglected of late.
Need to get an emery board and some polish when I see a drug store.
She read a little of the novel she’d downloaded to her phone, sometimes napping between chapters. The hours flew by, and soon it was time to dress and find dinner for herself and the guys.
At four they knocked on her door, showered but otherwise looking the same as they had when she saw them last. For Cam that was normal; he favored boot cut blue jeans and T-shirts with a single front pocket. Hua had nothing but what he’d escaped Buckram’s building in. Robin added getting clothes for him to her mental list.
We’re living like hobos. We could all be arrested at any moment. And I’m planning a shopping trip?
Hua was excited about the shampoo provided by the motel. “It smells like ginger,” he said, offering his head for her to sniff. “Is it permissible to take these small bottles away with us?”
Robin assured him it was and gave him her own bottle as well, adding ginger-scented shampoo to her mental shopping list. As much as Hua had gone without this far in life, he deserved some small niceties.
The Realtor worked for a small office in Gardiner. Robin and Cam would view the house as Richard and Lynn Taylor, and if things worked out well, they’d make the purchase while Hua remained in the background. Just before closing time, Robin called the office and asked to speak to Elizabeth Terrin, the agent listed on the sign. After the introductions (“Don’t call me Liz!”), Robin expressed interest in the house on the oddly-named Bobby Road.
There was a pause as Elizabeth collected her wits, but as soon as she recovered, she went into her sales pitch. “That’s a lovely property. I’ve always wished someone would come along who appreciates its possibilities.”
“We took a look at the outside this morning,” Robin said. “It might work for a project we have in mind.” Unbidden, Mark’s way to a favorable deal came to mind. “Of course we’re considering several locations.”
Apparently used to such opening salvos, Elizabeth focused on the positives. “May I ask what you plan to do with the property?”
“A small artists’ colony where talented people can come and spend a few weeks or months while they work on a project. The house has to be large enough to allow several of us to work in our preferred media.”
“That sounds so interesting!” Her tone was a little over the top. “What medium is your specialty?”
“Photography pays the bills,” Robin replied, “but oil painting feeds my soul. My husband works in metal, so the cement-block building behind the house would be a good place for that noisy metal cutting and messy welding.”
“You’ve certainly chosen a great spot. Anyone with an artist’s eye will love sketching in that courtyard edged with fruit trees.”
It was time to cool her enthusiasm. “It’s a bumpy mess. It will take weeks of work to flatten it enough to even make a spot to set a chair out there.”
“True,” Elizabeth allowed, “but surely you saw the beautiful architectural lines in that house.”
“We also saw gnawed electrical wire, gable rot, and antiquated plumbing. I’m pretty sure I heard critters skittering around inside.”
Elizabeth must have sensed that enthusiasm alone wasn’t going to make a deal. “Well, I can tell you the place is bank-owned, and they’re willing to dicker. The price you saw online is just a starting point.”
“Good, because it’s at least twice what the place is worth.” Robin imagined the woman calling the bank as soon as they ended their conversation, prepping them to accept whatever the Taylors offered. “Could we stop in tomorrow to meet with you?”
“Of course,” Elizabeth replied. “I’m excited to hear your plans for the place.”
When the call ended, Robin admitted she’d learned a few things about dealing with people from observing her father’s methods. While she wouldn’t excuse the things he’d done, she was familiar with how he’d used a sentence, a smile, or a glance away at just the right moment to manipulate others. Even a snake has lessons to teach.
Once the appointment with the Realtor was made, Hua, Robin, and Cam looked at the research on their proposed target, Beverly Comdon. Though he claimed he’d be more efficient with “exquisite computing equipment,” Hua had already confirmed Chris’ contention that “Judge Bev” used her charity, Rehabilitate Louisiana, to manipulate young men into her service and her bed. His easy access to the judge’s personal files disturbed Robin, who until he came along had operated under the delusion there was some privacy left in the world. He showed them an array of men with similar builds and coloring whose time was served doing “job skills training” on Comdon’s estate.
Seeing the judge’s picture on screen, Cameron ran a hand through his hair. “She’s a lady, you guys.”
“I’m a lady too,” Robin replied. “Do we have any more right than men to break the rules?”
“Well, no, but she’s old. I couldn’t grab hold of an old woman and shove her into the van.”
“Oh.” Robin knew Cam well enough to see that manhandling a woman, especially one his mother’s age, would be a problem for him. “We can talk later about our approach.”
“I can’t push an old lady around,” Cam repeated. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Forget it,” she said soothingly. “I’ll go out and get us something to eat.”
***
Just when Robin thought she was getting good at being unobtrusive, she made a dumb mistake. The In driveway to McDonald’s was hidden behind some other signs, and she drove past it. Since the Out drive was clear, she pulled in there and quickly turned into a parking spot. She was reaching over to retrieve her purse when a police cruiser pulled up beside her. The siren made a single whoop sound before the cop shut it off and got out of the car.
Robin’s mind bubbled with panic. Her first thought was Run! which was ridiculous. Her second thought was Where are the papers for this car? The only other time she was stopped in her life, she’d been so nervous she couldn’t find her insurance slip. The cop had been understanding, and later she’d found it in the glove compartment, right where it was supposed to be.
The officer was almost to the car, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. I’m traveling with a fake driver’s license. I don’t know if I can prove the car is mine. I’m supposed to do important stuff tomorrow morning. I cannot get arrested. I can’t do this!
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Could I see your license, registration, and proof of insurance?
With fumbling fingers, she managed to get the Lynn Taylor driver’s license out of her wallet. Opening the glove box, she said a little thank-you to Cam. Right on top, encased in a plastic sleeve, were all the necessary documents. She had a little trouble getting them out, since her hands felt like stones attached to the ends of her arms. When she handed them over, she noticed that the cop was looking at her intently. Did she look as evasive as she felt? She’d read about training they took to help them judge dishonesty in a person’s behavior. She had to look like a criminal, because that’s how she felt: guilty, guilty, guilty.
“You pulled in the out drive,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I missed the first one, and the other one was clear.”
“I’ll be right back.” Taking her papers, he returned to his car, where she knew he would run the information to find out if she had any outstanding warrants. What if Thomas Wyman had put our some sort of “find this woman” alert? The cop might receive more information than she wanted him to have. There was nothing she could do about it.
As she waited, advice from two very different sources played in her head.
You’re a pretty girl, her father had told her once. Learn to use your looks to get what you want.
Em’s scratchy advice sounded too. Everybody likes to feel important. Focus on them and they stop thinking about you.
The officer returned and handed back her documents. “Everything’s in order, Mrs. Taylor.”
“Ms.,” she corrected, lowering her lashes. “We’re separated—kind of a trial.”
His eyes showed immediate interest. “I see.” He waved at the entry and exit drives. “Those signs are there for a reason, Ms. Taylor. Ignoring them could cause an accident.”
Robin turned her best smile on. “I’m a little distracted with moving and—everything. Thank you for being nice about it.”
The line between his brows softened, and he took a step back. “It’s pretty easy to miss the signs with so much stuff along here.”
“Listen, I know you’re busy, but I’m new to the area, and I wonder if you can direct me to a good Thai restaurant. After I get my roommate a Big Mac, I’d like some spring rolls for myself.”
“Your roommate is a fast-food junkie?”
Guessing what he hoped to hear, she included a pronoun in her answer. “She sure is.”
When the cruiser pulled away, Robin had directions to a restaurant, and more importantly, no ticket for an illegal turn. She also had an invitation to become the cop’s friend on Facebook, which would never happen.
***
“I almost got a ticket!” she said when she returned to the hotel with their food. She gave a brief account, ending with, “Andy must be good. There hasn’t been a red flag yet.”
“Who is Andy?” Hua asked.
“The guy who made us into Richard and Lynn Taylor. He doesn’t work cheap, but he’s really good.”
Hua looked slightly offended. “Get me the proper equipment and I will do this for free,” he said. “You won’t need Andy again.”
Robin had bought Thai food for herself and Hua, but Cam refused to eat it, suggesting it was every bit as likely as Chinese food to contain cat meat. She’d bought him a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, which he ate in four bites while she set out steamed rice, jasmine tea, and an assortment of wonderfully fragrant dishes in neat cardboard boxes with wire handles. Apparently unwilling to even watch his friends eat foreign food, Cam took his fries and the oversize Coke to the motel parking lot, mumbling something about checking the tires on the car. When he was gone, Hua and Robin addressed Cam’s reluctance to go after Judge Comdon as they ate their meal. Hua used a pair of chopsticks that for some strange reason had been included with their food, and they both laughed at his clumsy efforts. Robin ate her food with an all-American Spork.
“If Cam won’t manhandle a woman,” Robin said, “we’ll have to get her into the van some other way.”
Hua slurped some noodles, chewed, and swallowed. “You might purchase a gun.”
Robin frowned. “I know it’s wimpy for a kidnapper to say, but I don’t want to get into using weapons. It makes things seem wrong.” She shivered. “I guess I should say more wrong.”
Hua didn’t argue the point. “Drugs? Perhaps Rohypnol, such as is used in many crime dramas?”
“She’s almost seventy. I’d hate to cause her to have a stroke or something.”
They ate in silence for a while. “You could change the method,” Hua suggested. “Approach her at home.”
“I’m sure there’s security at her house.” She set her carton aside. “We need to find a neutral spot where we can isolate her long enough to make our pitch.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Robin rose to look through the peephole. Cam’s face was all she could see, and he grinned in a way that indicated he had a surprise. When she opened the door he stepped aside, revealing Em Kane behind him. Apparently dressed for a trip to the Arctic, she wore heavy boots with felt liners; a wool coat in large blocks of red, black, and white; mittens that reached almost to her elbows; and one of those hats with fur-lined flaps everywhere. Em hadn’t been kidding about disliking cold weather.
There was more. Beside Em on a short leash was the stray that had facilitated Senator Buckram’s abduction. He sat quietly next to Em, eyes fixed on Robin as if he knew it was an important moment. His tail thumped hopefully on the floor beneath him.
Foregoing comment on Em’s outfit Robin said, “You kept the dog?”
“Bennett,” Em replied. “I named him after a supervisor I had once—same eyes.”
Robin stepped back. “Please, come in.”
“I’m almost done outside,” Cam said. “A few more minutes.” He disappeared down the hallway as Em entered the room.
Introductions were made, and Hua bowed graciously, giving “Ms. Em” his chair. They offered her food. Em said she’d already eaten but her companion was always hungry. After asking permission, Hua took what remained of the pad prik, opened the container so it was flat, and set it on the floor. The dog devoured the food in two snuffling bites and looked to Hua for more. “He eats enough to feed a third-world village,” Em said fondly. “The other Bennett could eat too.”
“I thought you were going to take him to the Humane Society.”
She shrugged. “I figured if I was going on the road by myself, it might be good to have him along.”
“About going on the road,” Robin said. “How did you find us?”
“I have my ways.” Robin guessed that meant she and Cam had been in touch.
“What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to help you.” Her tone was belligerent. “Maybe you don’t always need me to make a diversion, but I can man your base when you find one.” Though her voice was gruff and her words confident, there was a plea in Em’s eyes. Despite the downside to having a grumpy, seventy-plus woman with a bad hip in the group, the thought of being able to draw on Em’s experience made the knot between Robin’s shoulders loosen a little.
“We found our base today, so you came just in time.” She looked at the dog, who seemed to be listening with interest. “And now our gang has a mascot too.”
“I like this Bennett,” Hua said, reaching down to scratch the dog’s ears. “He is a very nice animal.”
That cemented Hua’s place in Em’s esteem. “The better you know people, the more you like dogs,” she told him.
The KNP crew has a house mother. And a pet.
“What will be your clown name?” Hua asked.
“I’d like to be called Loonette,” Em said. “She’s sort of a Canadian version of Pee Wee Herman.”
“Did she have a dog?”
“A cat, I think, but I’m sticking with Bennett.” She patted the dog’s sleek head.
“Em, we’ve got a new target, but Cam’s got issues because it’s a woman.”
“I could have predicted that,” Em responded. “If she’s about the same age as his mother, he won’t want to mistreat her.”
“Bev Comdon is nothing like Mrs. Halkias,” Robin said. “In fact, she’s the worst kind of cougar.”
“Likes ’em young, eh?” Em snorted disdainfully. “Never understood people who can’t act their age and not their shoe size.”
Robin explained how the judge manipulated young men into her program. “We need to figure out how to get to her.”
“But Robin says no weapons or drugs,” Hua said.
“And Cam won’t grab her because she’s female,” Em sneered. “Boy scouts and nuns, that’s what this gang is made of.”
Robin felt defensive in the face of Em’s derision. “We are what we are, Em.”
“I guess.” Taking Robin’s cookie, Em broke it in half and crunched it between her dentures. “Now that I’m here, we’ll put our heads together and come up with a way to teach an old cougar new tricks.”
***
Elizabeth Terrin was much as Robin had imagined from her voice on the phone, fortyish and enthusiastic to an almost irritating degree. She pooh-poohed the treacherous driveway as a minor problem that required only a little gravel, though she left her car on the road and tiptoed in bright pink, leopard-print boots around the pond-sized puddle. As she showed them through the house, Cam obeyed Robin’s instructions and said little. He nodded wisely when Elizabeth waxed eloquent on the property’s possibilities and managed not to let on that he’d been inside before, which Robin saw as real progress toward understanding the role little white lies play in everyday life. Once she’d done more griping about the price, which the bank obligingly dropped again the next day, they began the purchasing process. Elizabeth sparkled at the prospect of unloading a place her office had listed for decades, and when they met to make a formal offer a few days later, the bank’s representative seemed equally pleased, though being a banker, she was much more decorous about it.
One problem Robin faced in the negotiations was Elizabeth’s overly-developed desire to be helpful. A kind soul who didn’t seem able to grasp that her newest clients didn’t want her around, she launched a campaign to “integrate” them into the small community of Gardiner. In addition to shopping coupons and informational pamphlets, she offered contact information for a host of local organizations that would “love some new blood.”
Em, who had been introduced to the Realtor as Cam’s stepmother, had an idea, as usual. “Try to sell her something.” She straightened the yarn snaking from her current project to the skein at her side. “She’ll move in a different direction quicker than a cat when the broom comes out.”
The next day, when Elizabeth called with the suggestion that “Lynn” accompany her to the Chamber of Commerce After-Hours that evening, Robin followed Em’s suggestion, though her face burned with embarrassment. “I can’t come tonight,” she said, “but I would like to meet everyone soon. I have several ideas for changing the face of Gardiner, and it won’t be all that expensive.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “Changing Gardiner?”
“I’m thinking our artists could do murals or statues for each of the businesses in town. It will help them offset the cost of the retreats, and for twenty, maybe thirty thousand each, your people will have original art on their buildings.”
“Thirty thousand dollars? That sounds like a lot.”
“For original art? Not at all. I was thinking your office could be the starting point, since you have that nice side wall with the empty lot next to it. I’d do the work at a discount—say, eighteen thousand. I’m thinking a scene from the Napoleonic Wars, but of course you’d have a say in that. I love creating battle scenes—so full of action, you know? Life and death—everything is there.”
“A battle scene.” Elizabeth’s voice was faint.
“Once people see what you’ve got, we’ll start signing up the other businesses. It might take them some time to get the money together, but we’ll need to get the house ready and the artists on site, so it should work out great.”
“Eighteen thousand dollars.”
“Plus the paint, of course. And good brushes—I can’t work with substandard equipment.”
“Well.” The Realtor’s tone was cool. “We’ll talk about it once you’re settled, shall we?”
“Of course. I just had to share my idea with you because it’s such a great deal for both of us.”
“Umm. I’ll be in touch, but I think everything we need to do right now is all caught up.” She hung up so fast that Robin giggled. “Em, I think you just guaranteed Ms. Terrin will go out of her way to avoid talking to me ever again. But what if she’d loved the idea of spending thousands on a Napoleonic mural?”
“We’d have figured something out,” Em replied. “Sometimes you have to go out on a limb, because that’s where the fruit is.”
***
For two weeks, Robin used the time she wasn’t signing documents to do the shopping she’d been putting off. First she took Hua to a second-hand store some distance down the freeway from Gardiner. Though his taste ran to the flamboyant, she stressed the need to blend in. They bought several plain outfits and one he promised to wear only at home. Eyeing the emerald green silk shirt, rhinestone-studded black jeans, and fringed leather vest, she hoped he meant it.
At least an artists’ colony allows for the possibility of someone who looks like an Asian Michael Jackson.
Once he had decent clothing (and his own economy-sized bottles of ginger biloba shampoo and conditioner), Hua and Em took her car to Cedar to get the van they’d left in Robin’s storage unit. Though Hua had no driver’s license, he promised to drive carefully on the way back to Kansas, ignoring all distractions. When they returned Em admitted he’d been pretty good, though she commented that following Hua was like “chasing a chipmunk across the back forty.”
Without telling either the bank or the Realtor, Cam began work on the house. Each morning Robin drove him out to Bobby Road and dropped him off, laden with tools bought at the local hardware store. He spent the first few days assessing what needed to be done and fixing minor problems, loose boards, broken locks, and corroded hinges. Each afternoon when Robin picked him up, he was filthy, odiferous, and undeniably pleased with himself.
Once Hua returned with the van, the two men began buying larger items and transporting them to the property. The small electrical generator they’d bought for the first KNP came in handy for running power tools, since they couldn’t turn the electricity on until the purchase was complete. “Now I can really do something,” Cam told them after he and Hua bought two new toilets, a sink, and an array of accessories. “I’ll get the plumbing working so the bathrooms are usable. It’s good that we’ve got our own well.” Robin noticed how he’d slipped into speaking of the house as “ours,” long before that was true.
Due to his farm background, Cam seemed to know a little about every aspect of home ownership, and his confidence amazed Robin. “It isn’t like you’re going to call somebody in for every little problem,” he said, unaware that most people she knew did exactly that. Because he was Cam, he was a little compulsive, focusing on a problem with a single-mindedness that recalled their early meetings in the workout room. A couple of times Robin sat in the car entertaining herself for an hour or more while he finished his to-do list for the day. For Cam, tomorrow wasn’t here yet, so it was beyond consideration.
Hua began serving as Cam’s gopher, hauling tools and turning spigots on command, which left Robin free to make lists and worry about things that might not happen. In the evenings Hua extended the Taylors’ excellent though imaginary financial background, so her fears their loan would be denied didn’t materialize.
Robin and Em spent their days cruising the area, learning the roads and locating stores where they could buy furniture when they were ready. By the time they officially became owners of the house on Bobby Road, the four new tenants had three working bathrooms (the upstairs wasn’t yet operable) and a list of places that delivered home furnishings within their area.
Relocating was easy, since none of them had much to bring in. Em’s first impression of the house was important to the other three, and as they showed her around, they each painted word pictures of its future. Though both Cam and Hua offered to share their respective wings with her, Em politely declined. The upstairs floors she deemed unsuitable due to her physical limitations. Finally, after sticking her pointy nose into this place and that, she announced, “I’ll make an apartment out of the two parlors if nobody objects. The bath under the stairs is small but it’s close, so I won’t wake you all when I get up to pee in the night.” Once she proposed it, they agreed it was the perfect place for Em.
With Hua in what he called the terrace apartment and Cam claiming the “hero wing,” Robin was left the whole second story to herself. She took one room at the front of the house for general use, and a small one beside it for a bedroom. Not that she had a bed; only Em had one so she didn’t have to sleep on the floor. The others would get beds as time and funds permitted. Robin insisted anything with fabric had to be new. “There’s enough mold, dust, and bugs in this place,” she insisted. “We aren’t bringing more in.”
Which meant she needed to do more shopping. Was there ever a time when I looked forward to it?
Mental unease and physical discomfort made the first night long for Robin. The house was cold, since Cam had refused to build fires in any fireplace until a chimney sweep was called in to clear the debris and check for broken flue pipes. The hardwood floor was uncomfortable despite the layers of blankets she spread out. The wide, mullioned windows were cracked in several places, so when the wind blew, the glass rattled and drafts swept the room.
With her nose chilled and her shoulders and hips squished against the adamant surface, she questioned every decision she’d made since that first day, when Cam had asked for her help. She couldn’t count all the places she’d gone wrong. Her latest worry was that they’d be easier to find with a house, three vehicles, and a mortgage. Would Private Investigator Tom Wyman track them down tomorrow or the next day, call in the local police to surround the house, and capture them all? If he did, Robin knew she’d be responsible for ruining four lives. As she finally drifted into sleep, her last thought was how creepy the absolute quiet was. A house far from traffic, far from people. How in the world did I ever end up here?
The first order of business on the morning of their first full day in their new home was to scrub the whole place. Robin had bought buckets, sponges, brushes of all shapes and sizes, and anything else she thought looked useful for cleaning. Everyone pitched in, and Robin found having something to do—lots to do, in fact—lessened her worries and made her more optimistic.
That was despite the physical problems they faced. They had electricity, but the hot water heater was inoperable. That meant heating the icy well water in pans on the stove. Hua took responsibility for that, making many trips back and forth to add warm water to their buckets before returning to his own cleaning chores. Soon the strong smell of bleach was everywhere, but Em, wearing rubber gloves that came almost to her elbows, said that was better than mold and mouse droppings
After their cold first night, Robin called a local chimney sweep and offered a bonus if he’d come to the house right away. Next she called for firewood, promising the man an extra twenty dollars if the wood arrived that day. When the chimney sweep showed up, she put Cam in charge of dealing with him, and she was pleased to see that it wasn’t long before the two of them were kneeling at the hearth, peering up and discussing fire safety. Later she heard footsteps on the roof and slightly alarming sounds from various rooms. When he was finished, the sweep pronounced all the chimneys usable except one and promised to return when the parts he needed were available.
Though they all looked forward to warmer temperatures, another problem arose when evening came and the temperature dropped. Neither Robin nor Hua had experience with fire-keeping. “That’s okay,” Cam said. “I’ll show you.”
Making a fire wasn’t too difficult, Robin found, but keeping it burning was a problem. Used to setting a thermostat and forgetting it, she let her fire go too long without fuel the first night and had to start over again. She also learned that wood heat meant being either too cold or too hot. Near the fire, she felt like a piece of toast, but five steps away she felt brisk drafts from the poorly-insulated windows. When she woke in the morning the fire was low, and she hated getting out from under her pile of blankets to stoke it and re-warm the room. There will be a furnace in that creepy, spider-filled basement by fall, she promised herself.
“Cleaning will warm us up!” Hua said when she arrived in the kitchen with a blanket wrapped over the old felt bathrobe she’d found at Goodwill. She wore two pairs of socks inside her slippers to insulate her feet from the dank, cold floors. Hua seemed not to mind the cold, apparently adjusting his activity level to the need for warmth. Cam too accepted the chilly morning cheerfully, already hauling in more wood and leaving a trail of bark and sawdust in his wake.
Em announced that the rooms she’d chosen, being interior and fairly small, had warmed quickly and retained the heat well. Still, she wore her trapper hat and heavy wool socks, and Robin noted she hadn’t entered the kitchen until Hua warmed the room by lighting all four burners on the gas stove.
Needs were revealed as they cleaned, exploring corners and venturing into small spaces. At Cam’s suggestion, Robin used clear packaging tape to cover the cracks in her windows. With so many problems to address, new glass wasn’t high on the list, and the tape did a decent job of keeping out the wind.
The roof of Hua’s wing leaked in several places. Cam found a stack of extra shingles in the shed behind the house, and between the top ones, which had dried up and cracked, and the bottom ones, which had rotted into the ground, there were enough good ones to make the repairs. Once they determined exactly where the leaks were, the two men climbed onto the roof to fix them. Between the pounding of two hammers, Robin heard them talking and laughing. A displaced Asian and an asocial farm boy—men love having something to fix.
Wiring was another problem they were forced to address immediately. Appliances had to be used one at a time, because more than that made the lights flicker. Some rooms had no electricity at all, since animals had chewed through the wires that ran along the outside walls. In addition, like many old houses, there simply weren’t enough outlets for modern living. Robin’s bedroom had only one, which didn’t work, so she dressed and undressed by flashlight. The wings had more outlets than the main section, being slightly newer, but none located on the exterior walls worked.
After many calls and a wait of several days, they got an electrician to come out and make rudimentary repairs. He shook his head at the “cobbled up” system, claiming it was the result of several successive amateur installations. Robin accepted the estimated cost with a suppressed sigh and scheduled him to come out with a full crew and redo the wiring for the whole house. They simply couldn’t operate without electricity.
There was a plumbing scare too. The third day of their residence they smelled something odd—nasty, actually—and discovered water backed up in all the downstairs drains. Once again Cam was the hero, tapping and listening along the septic pipe until he located a massive clog. He cleared it by shoving an old metal fencepost from the nearest joint in the pipe to the spot where the clump blocked the flow. “Hasn’t been used in so long the stuff hardened up,” he reported. “Should be okay now there’s water going through all the time.”
The hot water heater was replaced a few days into their occupancy, and the first rush of hot water through Robin’s bathroom faucet was like a gift from Heaven. It’s a gift, all right. One we paid plenty for.
Critters had made nests everywhere in the house, and though most were abandoned, some were still occupied. The residents had to be relocated, and naturally, they objected. Mothballs were scattered to repel the squirrels, and Bennett made himself useful by chasing off those who persisted. Traps were set for the mice, and Cam spoke of getting a cat or two. Worst, to Robin’s way of thinking, was the possibility of snakes, indicated by a skin Hua found behind the toilet in his bathroom. Cam assured her that once the lawn was mowed regularly and the presence of rodents lessened inside (she noticed he didn’t promise they’d leave entirely), snakes would no longer find the house attractive. Determined to make that happen, she spent fifty bucks on a used push mower at the Buy/Sell Gardiner site. When the weather warmed and things started growing, she intended to mow every week until no self-respecting snake would slither anywhere close to her property line.
Then there was the staircase, once beautiful but now dangerous due to weak and broken boards. Hua proposed a temporary solution: putting inexpensive parquet flooring over the existing steps. By purchasing close-outs and odd lots, they were able to make the steps usable though not very attractive, since one didn’t always match the next.
Though there were times Robin rued the day they’d seen the house, it slowly became livable. Days spent in hard labor made for sound sleep, with neither childhood nightmares nor visions of private detectives invading her nighttime hours. Each improvement brought a sense of fulfillment for all of them, and something as simple as a toilet that flushed for the first time in a decade was likely to get appreciative applause. Those incidents brought them closer, and Robin felt for the first time in her life what the word home means.
Her weekly calls to Shelly were both comforting and disquieting. She didn’t want to give away where she was; it was best that Shelly didn’t know. She did share their adventures with the house, however, making a story about elderly Cam’s mother joining them with her Asian caregiver. They were flipping a house, she told her friend, and she was finding it an enjoyable experience.
“My mom is still always knocking out a wall or digging up the yard,” Shelly said. “I didn’t inherit her love of table saws, but maybe some of it rubbed off on you.”
“Your mom was great,” Robin said. “I always felt like I’d been adopted when I was at your house.”
I often wished I could be, she thought before the disloyalty of it hit her. I’d never have left Mom and Chris. But Mark?
“Your dad was great too.”
Shelly laughed. “Mr. We-Should-Get-There-Early-So-We-Get-A-Good-Parking-Spot?”
“Trust me, Shel. He’s a great dad.”
The pause that followed told Robin her best friend understood a little of what she’d lived through. “Yeah. I’m lucky to have nice parents.” Knowing Robin, she didn’t let the moment get squishy. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not embarrassed when they both wear tennis shoes out to dinner.”
When the call ended, Robin thought about the odd “family” she was now a member of. Em with her knitting bag and saggy pants, Hua with his Michael Jackson outfit, and Cam with his stutter and his many rituals. As work on the house progressed and they’d begun to shift from four disparate individuals to a group focused on common goals, Robin began to feel more optimistic about the future. Thomas Wyman had apparently given up the search for them. They had a base—a home—and they were learning each other’s strengths. Robin felt for the first time in her life what the word home meant: not just a spot to sleep and eat and keep your things, but a place where someone was always ready to share your joys and listen to your fears. Having a home helped meld them, so they’d be ready to take on the target they’d chosen—ready to show another miscreant the error of her ways.
