“Congratulations.” Susannah couldn’t think of any other response.
“I have several clients who’d be interested in a home such as this in a well-established neighborhood.”
Susannah stared at the card. Curious, she looked up and asked, “How did you get my name?”
Melody smiled. “Colville is a small town. Word gets around.”
“Was it Mrs. Henderson?”
Melody hesitated and her cheery facade disappeared. “Actually,” she said with reluctance, “I heard about you through the storage unit place. They sometimes give me tips on possible listings.”
That explained it, and Susannah was more than a little offended by this cozy sharing of private information. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not ready to list the house.”
“Perhaps I could be of service in some way?”
“Thank you, but no.” Susannah wasn’t going to let this woman push her into acting before the time was right.
“Do keep my card. I know we can get top dollar for your parents’ home.”
Susannah nodded, slipping the business card into her pocket. “Thank you for stopping by, but we really need to get back to work now.”
“No, I should be the one thanking you,” Melody Highland said smoothly. “I look forward to doing business with you in the near future.”
Susannah and Chrissie started toward the house.
“Can I check with you in a week or two?” Melody called just as Susannah reached the front steps.
“I’d prefer to contact you when I’m ready.”
“No problem,” Melody said and marched back across the street to her car.
Susannah waited until she’d driven off, then set down two of the boxes. “My goodness. She was eager, wasn’t she?”
“I guess,” Chrissie muttered, seemingly amused. “I’ll bet she’s already got clients lined up to look at the house. I can imagine how those potential buyers would react if they saw the place now.”
They walked into the house and Susannah had the feeling she’d made a lucky escape. She wondered how many other real estate agents she’d have to fend off before this ordeal was over.
“Where would you like me to begin?” Chrissie asked, standing just inside the living room. Hands on hips, she surveyed the area. Five days after moving her mother out, Susannah had made only a small dent in what needed to be done.
“What about the bookcase in the living room?” she suggested. When she had time, Susannah wanted to go carefully through all the titles. Her father had been an avid reader and there might be some first editions in his collection. Those books would be something to hand down to Brian one day.
“Okay.” Chrissie grabbed a box. “I’ll start there.”
Many of her mother’s personal things had been taken to her new apartment, but her father’s office remained untouched. Until now, Susannah had avoided it, but she couldn’t put it off forever.
Knowing her dad, he’d kept meticulous records. She’d have to sort through every file and drawer. Maybe she should wait until she was better able to deal with it emotionally. No—this couldn’t wait. She pulled out a stack of files and had just started to go through one of them when Chrissie called her.
“Mom!” she shouted. “Come here quick.”
Susannah hurried out to the living room. “What is it?”
“Look!” Chrissie cried, brandishing a fifty-dollar bill. “It fell out of this book when I took it down from the shelf.” She held up a history of the Second World War.
“Good grief.” Susannah realized there might be more money stashed in other books.
Chrissie reached for a second volume. Holding the book upside down, she splayed it open and two more bills fell onto the carpet. “Twenty-dollar bills,” Chrissie said. “These books are full of money.”
Susannah groaned. She didn’t know who had placed the bills there. It could’ve been either her mother or her father—perhaps both of them. Recently her mother had grown so distrusting of everyone that she’d started hiding things all over the house.
“Be sure and check inside each book,” Susannah said. This was going to slow them down even more. “Maybe I should help.” Having to examine each volume individually would be time-consuming.
“This is like a treasure hunt,” Chrissie said excitedly, taking down a copy of Gone With the Wind.
Before Susannah could respond, the doorbell rang. She wove her way through the cartons littering the room. If it was another real estate salesperson, she wouldn’t be nearly as polite as she’d been the first time.
She opened the door to a woman in her late sixties, possibly early seventies. “Hello, Susannah,” she said pleasantly as if she expected Susannah to recognize her immediately.
Susanna didn’t know this woman from Eve.
“I’m Eve Sutter.”
Eve? God does have a sense of humor, she thought with a glimmer of amusement. “I’m sorry, should I know you?”
“I’m sure your mother’s mentioned my name. We’re dear, dear friends.”
Susannah couldn’t remember her mother ever mentioning anyone named Eve. Not wanting to be rude, she held open the screen door so the other woman could come inside.
“I heard you’d moved Vivian over to Altamira,” Eve said as she stepped into the house. “It’s a lovely facility, isn’t it?”
Susannah nodded. She didn’t have time to waste with social chitchat. “How can I help you?”
“Oh, I came to help you,” Eve said, sounding surprised, again as if Susannah should intuitively know the reason for her visit. “I understand how difficult it is to pack up an entire life. I’m here to offer my assistance.”
“That’s very thoughtful, but…” Susannah was about to explain that she didn’t require this woman’s assistance; however, she wasn’t allowed to finish.
“I’m sure there’s far more here than your mother wants or needs.” Eve scanned the room, leaning to one side as she glanced down the long hallway that led to the bedrooms. “There are a number of things I’d be willing to take off your hands. We wear the same size, I believe.”
“Ah…”
“With so much to do, you must be looking for helping hands and here I am. Now, where should I start?” Eve pushed up her sleeves in anticipation.
“My daughter and I have everything under control, but thank you.” Susannah walked over to the door and pointedly held it open.
Eve’s head reared back as though she’d been insulted. “Of course. Well, I’ll stop by later with a bucket of chicken and—”
“We already have dinner plans.” Susannah opened the screen door, feeling less and less civil. If this so-called friend of her mother’s was a friend indeed, Susannah distrusted her.
Eve nodded, smiled sweetly and walked out the door. Susannah closed it with a decisive bang.
“Can you believe that woman?” she yelped, her voice rising in outrage.
“Mom…”
“It’s like the vultures have started circling overhead. First, that real estate woman and now Eve, my mother’s dear friend,” she said sarcastically. “Whom I never heard Mom mention even once.”
Chrissie laughed, but to Susannah this was no laughing matter.
“Come on, Mom, lighten up. She didn’t mean any harm.”
Susannah disagreed. Eve whatever-her-name was nothing but a freeloader.
The phone rang and they looked at each other, startled. Then Chrissie rushed into the kitchen to answer. Susannah suspected it was Joe; they’d spoken that morning, and he was unhappy with Chrissie, but Susannah had smoothed the waters. Although she didn’t approve of her daughter’s deception, she was grateful for her presence.
Chrissie was gone for several minutes. In the meantime, Susannah had unearthed another fifty dollars and packed up an entire row of books. Then—of all things—she found four teaspoons hidden behind the out-of-date encyclopedia. The very ones, no doubt, that Martha had supposedly stolen. Which reminded her—she needed to call Martha.
>
“You won’t believe who that was.”
Judging by the happiness in her daughter’s eyes, Susannah’s first guess was Jason, but she’d let Chrissie tell her. “Who?”
Chrissie nearly skipped over to the bookcase. “It was the guy in the pickup.”
“What guy?” Susannah asked before she remembered.
“Mother! The guy this afternoon. He figured I was related to Grandma, so he took a chance and called the house. He asked me out.”
Susannah was horrified. “You’re not going, are you?”
Chrissie laughed as if she assumed Susannah was joking. “Of course I’m going. This is the most exciting invitation I’ve had in months. I’m well over eighteen, so it’s not like I have to ask your permission.”
Yes, indeed, the vultures were out in full force.
Carolyn checked her watch and when she saw it was noon, she leaped out of her chair.
“Carolyn?” her assistant asked as she hurried past.
“I thought I’d go home for lunch today,” she said, not stopping to answer questions. Her heart pounded as she reached her truck and got inside. When she’d started the engine and backed out of her parking slot, she happened to catch her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her face was flushed and she was nibbling on her lower lip, which was a habit from childhood. She released her lip as if hearing her mother chastise her, switching between French and English. The words still rang in Carolyn’s ears these many years later.
It was all that talk last evening about the paths not taken, she reasoned. Carolyn hadn’t contributed much to the discussion. When she’d gone to bed, she’d lain awake most of the night, thinking. There’d been a number of different paths in her life—the ones she’d taken and others left unexplored. One stretched before her now.
Dave Langevin.
She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. Her mother would be furieuse if she knew that her daughter was attracted to a lawn-maintenance man. Since her twenties, Carolyn had lived a solitary life. Thoughts of a relationship, any relationship, were best ignored. She was a woman in a world usually populated by men, and she didn’t have the time or inclination for romance. It’d been easy to ignore the fact that she was a woman until she met Dave. When she looked at him, for some unaccountable reason, she felt alive again. In the beginning she’d tried to ignore the attraction, ignore the way he made her feel. It was uncomfortable at best and downright embarrassing at worst. She’d told no one. Really, how could she?
As she turned into her driveway, she realized her timing was perfect. Just as she’d hoped, Dave Langevin was working in her yard doing her regular maintenance. He’d been there on an unscheduled visit the day before, adding beauty bark to her flower beds. Right now he was mowing the grass. With the sun beating down, he’d removed his shirt, and his sun-bronzed torso glistened with perspiration. So intent was she on watching him that she nearly drove off the road. When it came to running the lumber mill, Carolyn was capable, competent, in charge. When it came to male-female relationships outside of business, she felt inept, clumsy and completely tongue-tied.
She parked her vehicle inside the garage and with trembling hands went into the kitchen, where she prepared a ham sandwich and added some coleslaw and pickle slices, although she didn’t have the appetite for even a mouthful. After carrying it onto the patio, she sat down and made a show of eating.
Dave had his shirt on now and was pushing the mower to the side of the house, close to the patio.
“Hello again,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to hurry home in the middle of the day. “You’re getting to be a regular fixture around here.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing your lunch.”
“No. Would you care to join me?” While she might sound casual, nothing could be further from the truth.
“Sorry,” Dave said, flashing her a grin. His teeth were white and even. “They don’t pay me to dine with the clientele.”
“How about a glass of iced tea?” she asked next.
He hesitated and then nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
In her eagerness to get him a glass, she nearly toppled her own chair. Rushing into the kitchen, Carolyn drew a deep breath in a futile effort to slow down her hammering pulse. Inviting a man to join her for lunch was so out of character that it felt as if she’d done something illegal.
She’d thought about little else all day. As she dressed that morning, she’d been putting together a plan of action. She wore her hair down instead of in her customary braid and opted for a white blouse with a lace collar rather than the cotton plaid that was her general uniform. Her jeans and boots were the same, but nothing else seemed to be—including her mind. Gloria had noticed her change of outfit right away and might have made some remark if not for the look Carolyn sent her.
“Do you take it sweetened or unsweetened?” she called through the screen door.
“Unsweetened.”
She managed to pour the tea, then took it outside and handed it to him. Dave thanked her with a nod. He hadn’t buttoned his shirt, and she had a hard time not staring at his muscular chest. A light mat of sun-bleached hair caught her attention. She felt like a schoolgirl, mesmerized by the sight, and resisted the urge to press her palm against his heart to see if his pulse beat as erratically as her own.
Dave drank the tea without stopping, then pulled off his hat and wiped his forearm across his brow.
“That tasted great. Thank you.”
Carolyn didn’t know what to say next. Her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
He shook his head. “I came up from California.”
“I lived there for a while. Which part?” she asked, trying to make conversation, anything that would let Dave know how much she wanted to be his friend. No—more than his friend.
“Here and there. I moved around a lot.”
Her heart sank. In other words, he wasn’t interested in telling her.
But then he surprised her. “I lived in the Fresno area for a time,” he muttered.
“How’d you get up here?” she asked, trying again. It was a bit awkward, the two of them standing there, making stilted conversation. She gestured toward the chair. Dave declined, shaking his head.
“I don’t stay in one place for long,” he said. “I was never one to put down roots.”
“What about family?”
“Don’t have any.” Sadness darkened his eyes and he looked away.
“None?” she repeated slowly.
“None.”
“What about a wife?” It was a bold question and she felt astonished at her own audacity in asking it.
“I was never married.”
“Never.” Carolyn could hardly believe it.
“Like I said, I wasn’t one for roots.”
She wondered what had happened to this man that kept him from living a normal life. Then it came to her. He’d been in prison; he must have been. It was the only thing that made sense. He preferred not to discuss his past. He hadn’t settled down anywhere. He was attractive and appealing and vital, yet he’d never married.
“What about you?” He spoke softly, almost as if he regretted asking the question.
“I’m divorced.”
“Children?”
“No… My marriage ended a lot of years ago and well, I never—you know—I never met anyone else.”
“That’s a shame,” he said in a low voice.
She swallowed tightly. “You?”
“I don’t have children, either.” He retreated a couple of steps, apparently uncomfortable with the information he’d shared. “I should get to work.”
Carolyn stepped back, too.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away and set the empty tumbler carefully on the table. “The tea,” he said.
Carolyn had the distinct impression that his
appreciation went beyond a glass of cold tea.
CHAPTER 16
“I’m glad you came by,” Susannah said as she held open the front door for Carolyn late Saturday afternoon. She’d dreaded the thought of spending the evening alone. For the second day in a row, Chrissie had gone off with Troy Nance. Much to her consternation, her daughter seemed utterly enthralled by him.
Susannah had disliked Troy on sight, and every meeting since had confirmed her negative opinion of her former schoolmate’s son. She didn’t like the way Troy looked at her daughter, either, as though he was salivating over some tempting delicacy on a restaurant dessert platter. As far as she could determine, he was unemployed, smoked, drank and generally lived on the edge. She was afraid drugs might be part of that scenario, too.
“I brought dinner,” Carolyn said, holding up a plastic grocery bag. “A few goodies that’ll help us remember our time in France.”
Susannah guessed it was a baguette, soft cheese and sun-dried tomatoes in seasoned olive oil. And, of course, Carolyn would include a bottle of red wine. As schoolgirls they’d spent many a weekend afternoon in the Loire Valley, enjoying a repast just like that. Those picnics had always included chaperones, but they’d been fun all the same.
When Carolyn left Colville as a high school sophomore, she and Susannah had been good friends. But during that year in the French boarding school, they’d truly bonded. Susannah wasn’t sure why they’d let their relationship erode in the decades that followed.
“Sun-dried tomatoes?” she asked and closed her eyes in ecstasy.
“Plus fresh bread and chèvre.”
“My favorite.” Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.
“Did you think I’d forget?”
“You didn’t have to do all this,” Susannah said, although she was relieved to stay home. After an entire day of physically demanding labor, she was content to relax, enjoy this feast and simply talk.
They sat across from each other at the dining room table, and drank wine out of plastic cups. The bread, cheese and tomatoes were served on paper plates.
“Where’s Chrissie?” Carolyn asked.
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