James grinned patiently. “We do have some aunts and uncles, but none with the means to help and plus they wouldn’t require anonymity. We have a step brother too, but we haven’t seen him for a decade at least.”
“Oh, what’s the story there?”
Working her foot with both hands now, James said, “More oddness I’m afraid. For the longest time, we didn’t even know of Ian’s existence. Then, out of the blue, a teenage Ian appears on our doorstep. Apparently, he’d been living with Don’s ex-wife. The tension between him and his Dad was palpable. Ian was only with us about two months before Don shipped him off to boarding school. Never saw him again, not even during the holidays. A few months before Mom died, my sisters and I asked her to tell us more about him. All she would say is he’d done something unforgivable. As I mentioned, my family routinely avoid talking about anything difficult.”
Hearing Prudence squeal from two floors below, Scarlet said, “Gran and Dad probably just got back.”
James glanced at his watch.
“I should get going. This has been,” he added lifting a pink woolen covered foot to his mouth and gently kissing it, “so wonderful.”
Closing her eyes, unable to move, Scarlet with a lazy grin echoed, “Wonderful.”
Relieving Rose of her grocery filled bag, James thanked her for the delicious tea and professed his joy at discovering the third floor of her beautiful home.
Placing a slim hand on his arm, Rose suggested, “How about I give you a full informative tour next time you’re over?”
With thankful acceptance of the offer, James turned to shake Joe’s hand, then followed Scarlet through the side kitchen door.
“I’m going to stay here for a few more days,” Scarlet informed him. “Just until I’m settled back at work. When I move back to my own place, I’d like to cook you something. What kind of food do you like?”
Watching as more and more white teeth appeared in his mouth, Scarlet realized she was becoming addicted to his smile.
“Anything and everything,” James replied. “But how many days are we talking?”
Returning his smile, Scarlet replied, “Didn’t Gran just ask you to come back for a tour? You don’t want to keep her waiting.”
Still grinning, James said, “That would be terribly rude.”
Scarlet stated formally, “Tomorrow then.”
“Would you allow me the pleasure of driving you to work after the tour?” James enquired.
Scarlet playfully lifted her chin. “I would.”
Placing a soft kiss on her cheek, James turned towards his car.
Trying, but failing, to remove the massive grin from her face, Scarlet floated back into the kitchen.
Finding Joe and Rose, both standing in the kitchen with their noses in a newspaper, Scarlet put the all but forgotten, groceries away.
“Are we all famous?” she asked.
Joe, eyes still glued to the black and white print, said, “We’re certainly getting our fifteen minutes.”
“Oh, I like this,” Rose exclaimed brightly.
Head in the fridge, rearranging bottles of juice to make way for Greek yogurt, Scarlet gave the tub a gentle shove, then turned back to face her grandmother.
“I’m in my early seventies,” Rose, patting her curls, informed her son and granddaughter.
Scarlet smiled. “No one would ever believe you’re in your mid-eighties, even if the paper had got it right.”
Thumbing through a third of the newspaper, Joe, amid crinkling noises, turned it towards Scarlet.
“That’s a good photo of you, my love,” he said, revealing a large black and white headshot.
Scarlet observed the familiar portrait. “It’s from the Bay Radio website.”
Reading about her life and seemingly everyone’s she’d ever met, Scarlet concluded the hastily typed summary could have been worse.
Marveling, how it was possible for one small pig to make so much noise, Scarlet left her bedroom a little earlier in the morning than usual, to find the source of the commotion.
Lottie, Rose’s housekeeper, was standing at the open front door, repeating to a man in a crumpled gray shirt, that no one entered the home without an appointment.
Rose was in the kitchen, voicing into one of her more modern phones, that yes, her house had survived two earthquakes and one fire.
Shrugging her shoulders, as Scarlet gave her a quizzical look, Rose successfully terminated the conversation with, “That would be fine, we’ll see you then.”
Replacing the phone on its cradle, Rose explained, “That was a lady named Eleanor. She’s a freelance writer for Homes with a History magazine.” A hand placed on either side of her head, Rose divulged, “They want to write an article on this old place.”
Helping herself from the pot of freshly brewed coffee, Scarlet enquired, “You’re okay with that, Gran?”
Running a hand along the marble-topped kitchen island, Rose responded, “Oh yes dear, I think it’ll be fun. I told Eleanor I’ve modernized the kitchen and bathrooms a fair bit, but otherwise, it’s pretty much as it was. They’re coming next week to take photos.”
Lottie, looking exasperated, entered the kitchen, exclaiming, “Finally!”
Taking in Scarlet’s look of bemusement, Lottie explained, “Three television crews in what…?” Looking at the oven clock, Lottie calculated, “twenty minutes. Everyone wanting the same thing, an interview with Miss Oaks inside this home.”
Scarlet shook her head. “I guess after that lengthy newspaper article, we shouldn’t be too surprised. I am sorry, Lottie. What did you tell them?”
Assuring Scarlet she didn’t mind and accepting the offer of coffee, Lottie replied, “The first bunch, channel seven, I think it was, got here just as your father was leaving for work. He gave them an email address and instructed them to request an interview in writing. I did the same thing for the other two, but your dad was better at sending them on their way than I proved to be.”
“Not true,” Scarlet declared. “I heard you being quite bossy with that last guy.”
Lottie raised brows above wide-set hazel eyes. “These young hot shots, give them a camera and they think it’s a free pass to wherever they want to go.”
Thirty minutes later, Scarlet, accessing Bluetooth through her steering wheel, listened to message after message during the drive to Niles’ home. The calls were from friends and colleagues wanting to hear more details than the newspaper had provided.
Scarlet pulled up to the large Tudor mansion, just as, fortuitously, a news crew van pulled away.
Spotting Niles, watering catmint by his front door, Scarlet, with her nose wrinkled, gestured towards the van descending the hill. “Sorry about them.”
Dismissing the apology with a wave of his hand, Niles replied, “Tom would have enjoyed it. I sent him copies of the newspaper articles.”
Their friendship strong enough to get right to the point, Scarlet asked, “You’re not okay with this latest assignment, are you?”
Ushering her inside and then taking an immediate left into the great room, Niles fell back into one of his leather couches. “There’s unrest in Haiti, but then there has been in most of the countries Tom works in. I’m just having trouble with my usual mindset of nothing bad will happen. Tragedy strikes other people; all the people I care about will be all right.” Niles shrugged. “Maybe it’s just my age. I’m finally mature enough to realize how precious and fragile life is.”
Scarlet sat perched on the edge of the recliner closest to Niles. “Maybe it’s the fact Stewart Steele was in this house. It’s my fault the darker side of life feels closer to home. Excuse the pun!”
Niles forced a smile. “None of what happened was your fault. Plus, me being more aware, more appreciative, those are good things.”
Catching Scarlet’s look of skepticism, Niles added, “Besides, Tom was driving me crazy. Do you know what came in the mail today?”
Not expecting an answer, Niles continued, “Ci
tizenship applications for our gardener’s entire family. He decided Mario needed help with the process. Now I have twenty blank application forms on my desk and where’s, Tom? Like I have the time to help them fill out those things.”
“I’ll help you,” Scarlet soothed.
The corners of Niles’ mouth turned down. “You’ll be too busy, hanging with James.”
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. “Do you really believe that to be true?”
Pushing his lips over to one side, Niles replied, “No. I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Tom keeps my pessimistic side at bay. When he’s not around, I’m just a boring, grouchy, workaholic.”
Scarlet shook her head. “Nonsense. You and I will spend loads of time together. Didn’t I hear Tom instruct you to take care of me?”
Niles released a dramatic sigh. “You have James to do that now.”
Laughing as she got up and sat next to him, Scarlet placed a hand on her friend’s cheek. “He could never do it as well as you.”
“Does he know your love for Oreos?” Niles enquired.
Removing her hand, Scarlet said gravely, “Nope.”
A smile forming, Niles asked, “Does he know your very favorite thing to do in the city?”
“No clue,” Scarlet confirmed.
Close to laughter, Niles went on, “Does he know how much you hate horror movies?”
Scarlet sucked in a deep breath. “Probably out buying one, as we speak.”
Niles’ spirits now lifted, the two friends continued with the nonsensical, until it was time for Scarlet to leave and Niles to sell some stocks.
Armed with a healthy mixture of nerves and excitement, Scarlet prepared for her first day back at Bay Radio. She’d only taken a few extra days off after the incident, but it felt much longer.
Having changed clothes three times, strangely something she’d never done pre-James, Scarlet settled on black leggings with calf-length brown boots and a loose-fitting cream crochet sweater.
Due to his genuine interest in her grandmother’s Victorian home, Scarlet enjoyed ample viewpoints of James as he walked from room to room. Happily, led and educated by Rose, he’d turn his head and smile as Scarlet, a few feet back, followed the tour.
James held his own, as he and Rose discussed San Francisco’s rich history.
Later in the sunroom, Scarlet relaxed by his side, breathing in the scent of him. One minute the aroma was reminiscent of an ocean wave, the next, it transported her back to a walk she and Prudence took through the Redwood Shores Bay Trail.
“Gran, how about you show James some old photos of this place next time?” Scarlet suggested.
Smiling, as James volunteered his enthusiasm for the idea, Rose said, “My grandfather had an old Kodak box camera. It would come preloaded with one hundred exposures. He’d finish that roll in no time. As soon as the factory sent back the photos and more film, he’d be at it again. My dad bought him an Aeroscope movie camera, but it never thrilled him the way that old box camera did.”
Half an hour later, James, expertly maneuvering his way through city traffic, confessed how enamored he was with Scarlet’s grandmother.
Unashamedly telling him he had great taste in women, Scarlet turned the conversation to her earlier visit with Niles.
When she’d concluded her recount of the meeting, James said gravely, “I’m the newcomer and so grateful to him for allowing me to meet you. Not that you need permission from me, but of course I’m happy to include him in everything we do.”
Seeing Scarlet’s dark eyebrows raise, he clarified, “Well, maybe not everything. On that note,” he added blushing, “would you be interested in meeting my sister?”
“Of course,” Scarlet replied without hesitation. “Which one?”
Smiling as he pulled into Bay Radio’s parking lot, James said, “Charlotte, the one in Napa.”
Scarlet reached for her purse, “I’d love to.”
“Wonderful. They’re launching a new wine with a tasting party. Charlotte would like us to stay for the weekend.”
Walking up to the double glass doors of Bay Radio, James announced, “I’ll be back at midnight to pick you up.”
With a soft but lingering kiss on her cheek, James turned and with long, athletic strides, returned to his Lexus.
“Oaks!” Sylvia shouted from the top of the stairs, “I’ve got loads to tell you.”
Easily settling back into their routine, Sylvia poured hot chocolate, while Scarlet checked levels, opened sports related websites on the computer and adjusted her mic.
Moving, now cherry red, hair to one side of her neck, Sylvia said, “I’ve met a guy, and he’s my new bae.”
“Bae?” Scarlet asked, with a slight scowl.
“Before anyone else,” Sylvia said dismissively. “We met at Dolores Park. He liked my dog, and no one likes my dog, not even me.”
“What’s wrong with your dog?”
Sylvia curled her lip. “She’s super standoffish. Totally disinterested in everything and everybody.”
Chuckling, Scarlet asked, “What breed is she?”
“Tibetan Mastiff. I think Mom thought she’d be all Zen and stuff.”
The chuckle morphed into a laugh as Scarlet pictured a dog, legs crossed and front paws placed on knees.
Despite the dog, visualized in her head, now wearing a saffron robe, Scarlet managed to say, “But this guy liked her?”
With an exaggerated turned down mouth, Sylvia said, “Yeah, he walked right up to us and started talking to Pema.”
“Pema’s your dog?” Scarlet asked.
“Yeah,” Sylvia replied, waving her chap stick in the air. “Pema didn’t like him any more than she likes anyone else. But I did. He has, let it be tattooed on the inside of his right forearm.”
“Nice,” Scarlet said before taking a sip of her hot chocolate.
Chin down and eyebrows up, Sylvia enquired, “Are you still seeing your very polite gentleman?”
“I am,” Scarlet said with a playful scowl. “He was raised by a military man. You know how they are about manners. Besides, I like it.”
“I’m just teasing you,” Sylvia confessed. “Like I said before, polite or not, he’s super sexy.”
Scarlet pressed her lips together. “I think it’s going to be a good year for you and me.”
Nodding, eyes wide, Sylvia rushed, “Uncle Brian’s going to call you tomorrow to arrange a meeting. Everyone and I mean everyone, wants to advertise on Mending Men.”
Continuing, before Scarlet had a chance to talk, Sylvia said, “I think you need to demand a huge pay raise. He’ll give it to you, I’m sure of it. The whole city’s talking about this killer and how it all started when he called into your show.”
Wincing with the reminder, Scarlet informed her friend, “Brian already gave me a twenty percent hike.”
“Not enough!” Sylvia, draining her cup, voiced authoritatively.
Scarlet chuckled. “How about this, instead. I’ve got some ideas on ways to improve and expand the show, but I can’t do it alone.”
Clearly interested, Sylvia listened, empty cup in hand.
“How would you feel about being my assistant?”
“Me?” Sylvia asked incredulously.
“Yes, you. We’ll need to do lots of research for the segments I’m planning, and from what you’ve heard about advertisers, that’ll involve remotes all over the city.”
Staring, open mouthed, for a few moments, Sylvia enquired, “Do you mean it, Oaks? I don’t have to be a P.I.B. forever?”
Scarlet smiled warmly at her young friend. “You were never going to be a P.I.B. forever, and yes, I mean it.”
Smiling broadly, Sylvia asked, “You’re telling me, the only haggling you’ll do with my tight-fisted uncle, is on my behalf?”
Scarlet smiled mischievously. “Well, I may suggest we’re on the air a little earlier. This midnight finish is going to mess with our love lives.”
Sylvia reached for more hot chocolate. “I
like the way you think, Oaks.”
Nodding, Scarlet elaborated, “We won’t use that argument as a bargaining tool, however. We’ll say, and it’s the truth, more men will be listening on the commute home. It’s mainly kooks who call after ten pm.”
Amid Sylvia’s enthusiastic agreement, Scarlet said, “One minute and I’m live.”
Sylvia, practically skipping out of the studio, left Scarlet alone to say, “Thank you for calling Mending Men, this is Scarlet, how can I help?”
###
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, won’t you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?
Turn the page to find out more about me and my other works.
Cheers!
Michaela James
Ready for the next Scarlet Oaks adventure?
SCARLET OAKS AND THE EXPOSED PHOTOGRAPHER
Visit MichaelaJames.net
About Michaela James
Michaela James lives in northern Nevada with her husband and two sons. Originally from England, she drinks lots of tea, enjoys playing tennis and watching great films.
For the last decade, Michaela has been an on-air personality for a local radio station, 93.7 BOB FM in Reno, Nevada. She also does voice work, including the narration of twenty audio books available at Audible.com.
Books By Michaela James
Love Me Or Die
The Healing Room
Scarlet Oaks series
Scarlet Oaks and the Serial Caller
Scarlet Oaks and the Exposed Photographer
Lambsy La La Stories, a series for young children
Who is Lambsy La La?
Rosie The Perfectly Dressed Penguin
Sebastian The Superfast Seahorse
Ella The Daring Dog
Monty The Magic Mouse
Henry The Helpful Hedgehog
El Arbol Magico (co-authored with Carrol Guzman)
Scarlet Oaks and the Serial Caller Page 29
