by Rose Pressey
***
I sat at the table and munched on my bowl of soggy cornflakes, staring at the back of the cereal box blankly. The phone rang and I almost fell out of my chair. I seriously needed to change my ringtone from the Monster Mash ringtone. The stacked boxes of unsold beauty supplies made an obstacle course for me as I dashed for my purse. The continuous ring pulsated through my head as I rummaged in the abyss known as my handbag for the cell. After dumping all of the contents from my oversized bag on the table, I spotted the shiny pink object and looked at the caller ID window. Displayed on the screen was Jim’s number.
My hand trembled as I punched the button. My heart rate spiked. I let out a pent-up breath.
“Hello,” I shouted into the phone before I realized my voice needed to drop a few decibels.
“Ms. Hargrove is that you?”
“Yes. Yes, it’s Alabama.”
He could call me by my first name for heaven’s sake.
“How are you today?” he asked.
Enough with the small talk. Get to the point.
“I’m well, Mr. Richmond.”
I didn’t ask how he was in return—maybe he would get to the point of the call. Rude of me, I know. My grandmother would turn over in her grave at my lack of manners. He cleared his voice after a second, clearly surprised I hadn’t inquired on his well-being. Sensitive fellow.
“Right…well, anyway,” he continued. “The reason why I called…”
“Yes?” I said, agitated.
He had me on pins and needles. Did he have bad news?
“I have news,” he exclaimed.
News. I knew it—bad news. A counteroffer? I tried to comfort myself. The suspense got the better of me.
“Get to the point, Jim.”
“Right. Sorry, Ms. Hargrove.”
I felt a tinge of guilt for being impatient with him.
Finally, he said, “I can’t believe this, but he accepted your offer.”
“I got it!” I threw my arms up in victory. The phone fell from my hand as I did a happy dance around the room.
“Ms. Hargrove? Ms. Hargrove? Are you still there?” he asked, his voice faint from the floor.
I snatched the phone from the floor. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Congratulations! You got a great deal. I’m excited for you.”
“Thank you, Jim, for all of your help.”
All right, he hadn’t done much in the help department, but I felt generous with my compliments. After all, I was going to make a ton of cash. No more mac ‘n’ cheese.
“The seller wants a fast closing. Is that all right with you? I told him I’d ask.”
“The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned. I’ll call the bank immediately.” I paced around the room still feeling the urge to dance.
“I have to say, I still can’t believe he accepted the offer, and so quickly, too. He’s usually hard to work with, but he seemed eager to sell.”
“Well, whatever floats his boat,” I said with a chuckle.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“He must like me,” I added.
“Yes, that’s probably it.”
I clicked off and continued my dance.
***
The morning the supposed haunted house on Maple Hill Road became mine arrived—for better or for worse. I rolled off the bed and shimmied into my old tattered pink bathrobe. The ancient thing was broken-in and comfy—just the way I liked it. I shuffled into my fuzzy bunny slippers and staggered across the room like a zombie. With sleep still in my eyes, I caught a glimpse of my reflection as I passed the mirror.
“Oh my word.” I gasped when I saw my frightful mug.
A night of tossing and turning left my tresses wild and downright terrifying. If nothing else, I’d scare the ghosts away. Worry had kept me up most of the night. I had signed on for a huge project—would it work out? I sighed and slumped my shoulders at the thought of untangling my disheveled mop—and straightening out a rundown house with ghosts. I trekked to the bathroom.
As I stepped into the shower, the phone rang. I stumbled out and grabbed it.
“Hey,” Lacey chirped. She was too chipper that early.
“Humph.”
She giggled.
“Hurry up and come get me. We’ll grab breakfast before you close on your little project.”
“Excuse me? Little project?” I huffed.
“House…before you close on the house.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes.
“I should say no just because of that snide comment.”
“Come on. Get me out of this house. Rob has the day off and he’s trying to build a bookcase for the office. He can’t even use the power drill correctly. He’s driving me crazy. Get me out of here.”
“All right. All right. Take a deep breath and calm down, I’ll break you out of there.”
“By the way, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Her voice held a hint of concern.
“Is it serious?”
“No…I guess not.”
“You guess not? Are you okay?”
“I’ll fill you in at breakfast.”
“You’re making me nervous,” I said, still a little perplexed by her statement.
“Calm down. It’s not a big deal.”
“Okay…if you’re sure. How about we head over to Lucy Tucker’s?” My mouth watered at the thought.
“Oh, sounds great,” Lacey squealed. She let go of her secretive air. “I’ve been dreaming about their Peach French Melba toast for a week.”
“I’ll be there soon. Just let me jump in the shower.”
“See you in a minute.”
With that, she hung up and I reluctantly schlepped back to the shower. I should be excited. Invigorated. I needed to get motivated—now was not the time for laziness. Work needed to be done—floors refinished, a new roof, updated electric and the list went on. Could I really handle this?
As I dabbed some lip-gloss and mascara on, my mind wandered to Lacey. What was it she wanted to tell me? She didn’t keep secrets…well, not that I knew of, anyway. She was to the point and honest. A real no-nonsense type of person. Once, I asked her if my jeans made my butt look big. She responded with a resounding “Yes.” Needless to say, I never asked her again. Sometimes the truth hurt. I liked her bluntness; a trait I lacked. We complimented each other that way.
I stood in front of my jam-packed closet for what seemed like an eternity. My eyes started to glaze over, so I grabbed my wardrobe staple of jeans and a light pink sweater. I tugged my jeans up to fix the inevitable butt cleavage that came with the fashionable low riders.
The sky looked as if it would let loose at any moment, so I grabbed my umbrella to be safe. I slipped on my favorite pair of sneakers and headed out the door. Within a few seconds, I was on my way in my blemished Volvo—the dents in the car were courtesy of that week last year when I’d thought I’d attempt private investigating as a career choice.
Before picking up Lacey, I needed to make a stop. Jim couldn’t attend the closing, so I decided to drop off a thank you card—the polite thing to do. I pulled up in front of his office, right next to his truck. The air was chilly—a typical fall day. I wrapped my jacket around me a little closer for warmth as I hurried across the parking lot. The place was quiet, but it was still early. The stairway was in front of the main entrance. I climbed to the second floor. As I turned the corner, I stopped in my tracks. Jim stood in the hallway with his back to me. What I heard next surprised me, to say the least.
Chapter Four
“I told you I’d find a sucker to buy that ramshackle joint,” Jim’s voice was full of satisfaction. “She’s a clueless sap. She’s never remodeled a home.”
As I listened, I bit my tongue and remained quiet, but what I really wanted to do was let him have it.
“I still get thirty percent of the profit, right?” He paused to listen to the response. “Yeah, she’ll make a mess of it, but who cares, as long as you’re rid of the du
mp. I’ll call you later.” He clicked the phone shut.
I watched as he closed the office door behind him, never glancing in my direction. Despite what he thought, I was not a clueless sap. I’d show him. I should have known Jim was a snake. If I hadn’t wanted the house so badly, I would have told him to shove it. He thought he’d suckered me into buying the house, but I wanted it. I knew what I was doing. Let him get his stinking thirty percent.
After hearing his true feelings, I sure as heck wasn’t going to show my gratitude. I tossed the thank you card in the trash can beside me, pivoted on my heel, and headed back to my car. I hurried across the parking lot before he noticed me. When I’d almost reached the rattletrap, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out, and flipped it open.
“Hello?” I huffed. More visits to the gym were necessary—running shouldn’t make me winded. Being furious couldn’t help lack of fitness, though.
“Ms. Hargrove.” Fiddle sticks. I should have looked at the caller ID first.
“Yes, Jim.” My heart rate increased and I spun around. Did he see me? Had he seen me run away?
“I’m glad I reached you before the closing. It’s the big day, huh?” he asked cheerfully.
I didn’t respond.
After a pause, he continued, “Well, good luck with everything. You will call me if you have questions? Call me if you need help finding a sub-contractor and that sort of thing.”
Thank goodness, he didn’t know I overheard his conversation. I shoved the key into the car lock. Maybe I could escape before he spotted me.
He kept talking. “I know a couple of handymen. It helps to have referrals.”
If he thought I’d use one of his recommendations, though, he had another think coming. Not after what he called me.
“Thank you, Jim. I’ll make sure to call if I need anything,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Okie dokie. Well, again, good luck.”
I clicked off. Being somewhat polite had been hard. I shifted the car in gear, backed up, and sped away. Visions of bumping into Jim’s big Ford crossed my mind, but I shook thought out of my head. I wouldn’t let him spoil my happy time.
Lacey lived only a few miles from there, so within two shakes of a sheep’s tail I pulled up to her house—a cute craftsman bungalow with black shutters and flower boxes on the windows. It looked as if it belonged on the cover of a magazine. I honked the horn. My stomach rumbled from the lack of breakfast as visions of French toast with tons of maple syrup flooded my mind.
Lacey emerged and sprinted down the sidewalk toward the car.
“Whatcha got going on with the bangs?” I stared at her forehead, then pointed to her hair.
“I tried to cut them.” She frowned as she plunked down in the car.
“Well…they’ll grow out,” I offered. Too late though. My foot was inserted in my mouth. “That’s a cute top you’re wearing. I like the little flowers on it.” I dug a deeper hole for myself.
“Thanks,” she said dryly. Her eyes shot daggers my way.
Lacey complained about her husband as we zoomed down the street toward Lucy Tucker’s Tea and Sandwich Shop—a southern café with the most divine food. After a couple of minutes, as we neared the historic building, the sign came into view.
I zipped the car into the parking lot, squeezing between a mini-van and a Buick.
“A spot right in front,” I yelled in triumph.
“Oh, yeah!” Lacey shrieked.
I glanced over at her, surprised by her enthusiasm over a parking space—only I did that.
“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much.” She grinned.
I stuck my tongue out. “It is a good spot, you can’t deny it.”
Lacey shook her head, climbed out, and closed the door behind her. She made her way up the shrubbery-lined sidewalk. When she reached the door of the old building, she yanked and it opened wide. She motioned for me to come on, so I turned off the ignition and jumped out. As I reached the sidewalk, Lacey backed up to make way for exiting customers. As she moved out of the way, she stumbled backward and fell off the porch, her arms flying above her head. Her newly trimmed bangs swooshed up and her top made the same movement. Her expression looked like someone who’d just taken their first roller-coaster ride. Her mouth opened wide and she yelled just before landing in a shrub.
Chapter Five
I ran over. “Oh, God! Are you okay? Talk to me.”
“It hurts like hell.” She panted. “I think I broke my ankle.”
The man who’d just walked out the door ran over and jumped down from the porch. “Can I help you up? Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
I grabbed her purse while the man picked her up in one big scoop. He was the size of a Sasquatch. He didn’t flinch at her measly one hundred and twenty pounds.
“My car’s right there.” I pointed. “I’m taking you to the emergency room.” For once, she didn’t protest.
I opened the door and the man eased her into the car.
“Thank you,” Lacey said.
“Yes, thanks so much,” I said.
“No problem. I hope the ankle’s all right.”
I slammed the door shut and hurried over to the driver’s seat. Lacey gripped the dashboard, an excruciating look of pain on her face.
“I really think it’s broken. It’s throbbing,” she announced.
My eyes widened as I looked down. I winced at the mere thought of the throbbing.
“Stay calm and I’ll get you to the hospital.” I shoved the key back in the ignition. “Can you move it?”
She dodged my stare. “I guess so.” Her voice was almost a whisper.
“Of all the clumsy, stupid things. I wanted French toast!” She chuckled, then gripped for pain once again.
The French toast was good, but not that good.
“We’ll come back for food when you’re not in pain. Nice acrobatics, by the way. You should have seen the look on your face.” I navigated the car from the parking space.
“This isn’t supposed to happen today.” Lacey muttered. “I have work to do.” She swallowed to fight back tears.
“It never is, my dear, it never is. Life hits us with unexpected turns sometimes. We just have to be prepared to maneuver around them.” I was proud of my shrewd advice.
Lacey groaned in response.
I whizzed the car back onto the street, cutting off a little old lady in a silver Toyota in the process. When I glanced in the rearview mirror, she shook her fist at me. She was mouthing something. The angry grandma looked as if she was ready to chase me down and beat me with her pocketbook. That was the last thing I needed.
I turned down a side road.
“Where are you going?” Lacey barked.
“To the hospital, silly.” I cast a dubious glare her way.
“This is not the way to the hospital. You’re going in the wrong direction.” She panted.
“Of course it’s the right direction. I’ve been this way before. It’s a shortcut.”
I ignored her look of doubt and made a couple of turns, although the streets all looked the same. Houses soon blended together. Perhaps Lacey had been right and I had no idea where I was headed. I looked at her and, let me say, never tick off a hungry, injured woman.
“I’m going to die from pain in the car, then I’m going to kill you.” She let out a couple of huffs and matched them with a few puffs. “Why did you take a stupid shortcut?”
“You’d have to kill me first. You can’t die, then kill me. Unless in the afterlife you came back to kill me, of course,” I quipped. “Don’t blame me if your ambulance is the backseat of a Volvo.”
“Ugh,” she groaned.
Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead. I felt pressure—I didn’t know first aid. Sure, I’d watched the shows on Discovery Channel, but I didn’t want to put into practice what I saw. Finally, I recognized a street we had passed moments ago and steered the car onto
it. Better to go back the way I came, then look for the shortcut. The hospital came into view and, none too soon, as I felt Lacey’s eyes on me. Her stare was laced with venom—must have been the pain. I ignored her gaze—she’d get over it once the morphine kicked in.
I pulled the car into the area that was marked for emergencies. An old man pumped his fists at me in anger as I hurried around to help Lacey. Why was everyone so upset?
“Get out of the way. Injured woman coming through.” I grabbed the wheelchair next to the door.
“Alabama, I think they can see I’m injured,” Lacey snapped.
Point taken.
“Sit down,” I ordered.
Her arm was draped around me for support. She eased into the chair.
“I can take her from here.” A nurse approached, then took over the steering. She shook her head.
In the room, Lacey spewed obscenities I wasn’t aware she even knew when the doctor examined her ankle. She showed a side I had never seen—and I knew her well.
“I wish I could stay.” Well…I did, as long as she wouldn’t snap at me anymore.
“No, you go. Rob will be here any minute. You’ll be late for the closing. I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you out much now.”
I waved off her concern. “It’s just a twisted ankle, you’ll be better in no time. But don’t worry about helping me with some old house.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She gave a little grin. The throbbing must have subsided with the ibuprofen. “I have faith in you, Bama. You can do it.”
Did she really feel that way? I wasn’t convinced I felt that way.
“Thanks, Lac. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you that Uncle Oscar agreed to do my plumbing for the house. I talked with him last night.”
“Oh, God, Bama. Remember when he flooded your parents’ basement?”
