The doctors put Tam on some sort of medication to stop the contractions until they had time to give her steroids to help the baby's lungs develop.
She could be in the hospital for days, possibly weeks.
I just prayed that the baby would be okay.
"Nina, you're here!" Lindsey said. "This is so exciting."
Even with my Tam worries, I was excited too. I loved the buzz of the actual makeover day. The adrenaline, the challenges, the fast pace. This yard would definitely be a challenge, but the end result would be a job well done.
Bright sunshine highlighted every flaw of the yard. Thank God the Lockharts had finally called someone for help, even though it had taken a lawsuit to provoke them. I looked at Lindsey. "Bill make it out okay this morning?"
"What? Oh! The fishing. Yes, yes."
I noticed she wrung her hands. My eyebrow quivered. What was going on? "Is there anything you need to tell me?"
"What? No. Nothing at all."
Overall, I loved surprises. It's one of the reasons I loved my job so much. However, I didn't like feeling as though Lindsey was keeping something from me. Especially if it might be something that put my reputation or company at risk.
"There's a big truck out front towing a trailer with a Bobcat on it," she said.
That had to be Kit. "We'll be using the skid loader most of the morning, clearing all this out." I gestured to the quarter acre of overgrown grass and weeds and a couple of rotting trees. (Okay, I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised to not find a rusting car resting on four cinder blocks amidst the weeds. Yes, it was that bad.)
I looked to my left, over a small picket fence. The house next door had a beautifully kept lawn, a trimmed boxwood hedge, nice planting beds, and an adorable little greenhouse.
To my right, the neighbor's yard was enclosed with a sixfoot wrought-iron fence. Tall fountain grasses provided privacy all along its perimeter. There was no seeing in, and no seeing out.
It was easy to imagine why. No one wanted to view the Lockharts' yard in its current state. Not even me.
"Does the HOA know about the work going on here today?" I'd had issues with homeowner associations before and didn't want to deal with that kind of hassle today.
Lindsey shook her head. "No."
"Are they going to be up in arms over it? We'll be making a lot of noise."
"They want the yard fixed up more than anyone."
I just hoped there wouldn't be any problems. My stress level couldn't take any more.
"I'm going to, uh, go grocery shopping," she said, already stepping away. "You have my cell phone number?"
Again my eyebrow twitched. Something just wasn't right about this whole job. Most clients liked to stick around, watch our progress. Some even baked us cookies and brought us lemonade. I was bummed. I'd wanted a chance to poke around her house, see if there were any pictures of Leah Quinn lying around. "Yes."
"What time will you be done?" she asked, looking somewhat worried.
Both eyebrows lifted. Uh-oh. Something was definitely wrong. "Six."
"Right. Six. Okay. 'Bye!"
I heard Kit unloading the skid loader and went down to the curb to see if Jean-Claude had showed.
He hadn't.
I growled.
That was it. He was so fired when I saw him.
No more Ms. Nice Guy.
Girl.
Whatever.
There I went again, rambling to myself. Never a good sign my day was going to go well.
I decided to make myself useful as Kit tackled the backyard with the help of Ignacio and his crew.
To help ease my tension, I decided to get started with the planters. Nothing soothed me more than planting flowers, getting my hands dirty. I dumped my clipboard into the cab of my TBS truck and made sure my cell phone was clipped to my waistband.
The only color in the front yard was a terra cotta pot full of thriving white pansies on the front step. Maybe if there were leftover flowers from the backyard, I'd have Deanna add some to the front mulch bed, where three sad-looking spireas were in need of pruning.
From the bed of the truck I pulled out five large glazed white pots and set each on the ground. They were tall, maybe two and a half feet high, but not very wide. Maybe eighteen inches at best.
I hunted around the utility truck for gravel, which would provide good drainage and stability, and for potting soil, which I would mix with topsoil for planting.
I'd just finished stacking five sacks of potting soil on the Lockharts' driveway when a hoity-toity female voice said from behind me, "Who are you?"
I turned. A small woman with long blonde hair stood on the curb, eyeing me.
"Nina Quinn," I said. I held out a hand to shake, but caught a glimpse of it. Filthy. I rarely used gloves when planting. I pulled my hand back. "And you are?"
"Meredith Adams."
That cleared that up.
Under severely plucked eyebrows big blue-gray eyes bulged slightly. Why they bulged I had no idea. Was this some sort of evil eye I'd never encountered?
When she continued to stare, I began wondering if she was all there. Upstairs.
"What are you doing here?" she finally said on an exasperated sigh, and I realized she'd been waiting for an explanation. That cleared up the eye-flaring thing.
Unfortunately, I had issues with people interrogating me for no apparent reason. "What are you doing here?" I asked her. Ha! Take that.
"I asked first."
"So?"
"So? So answer!"
It was wrong toying with her like this, but I couldn't help myself. Not with the way she stood there, five feet of quivering righteous indignation. "You."
She drew in a deep breath, held it, and then released it in a snorty way, like a bull before it charged. "I am Meredith Adams, vice president of Fallow Falls Homeowners Association. I demand to know what is going on."
I just couldn't help myself. I blamed it on the stress of my day. "Sorry. I only speak to presidents." I lifted a bag of potting soil and shrugged.
She turned from valentine pink to fire engine red in two seconds flat. Her mouth opened widely, then closed again with an audible click. Pencil thin pale eyebrows dipped dangerously low as she tried hard for an evil eye. With the slight bulge, she just couldn't pull it off.
I bit my lip hard to keep from laughing.
"Uhhnn!" she squawked, spinning on her Ann Taylor wedges. Fists pumped as she speed-walked down the sidewalk.
I was definitely going to hell.
My mood lifted, I turned, potting soil in hand. "Eee!" I screamed as a big black blur barreled down on me.
"Nina, look out!" someone yelled unnecessarily.
I didn't even have time to brace myself before two enormous paws landed on my shoulders and pushed me backward. I tripped on the stack of potting soil sacks and fell down on the grass.
Pain radiated from my, er, backside. The sacks of soil I'd already stacked stopped my head from hitting the cement. Bits of soil flew everywhere as claws tore into the bag I still held onto. For dear life.
A huge tongue assaulted me, licking my face up and down, side to side.
I knew that tongue.
BeBe. Kit's dog.
"Get her off me!" I cried, trying not to open my mouth. Drool oozed down my face. Ewww! "BeBe, down! Down!"
This was some sort of cosmic justice, I just knew it.
A sharp whistle pierced the air. BeBe immediately retreated and began prancing around, her tongue lolling out of the corner of her mouth. She pranced rather gracefully for an enormous 150-pound, wrinkly-faced, drooling English mastiff.
Dazed, I glanced up. Kit's goofy grin split his whole face. "She missed you," he said.
Lifting my head, I saw that Jean-Claude stood behind Kit, a leash in his hands. He shrugged. "Sorry. She got away from me."
"What's BeBe doing with you?" I sputtered, still confused.
"Kit had me babysitting her."
Kit snatched the lea
sh out of Jean-Claude's hands. "Lot of good it did me." He attached a hook to BeBe's collar.
"Well you didn't tell me she'd freak out when she saw Nina." Jean-Claude gestured to my prone body.
Tiredly, I asked, "What's BeBe doing here?"
BeBe lunged toward me when she heard her name. Kit's muscles bulged as he held her back. "Daisy got an emergency call and had to drop her off."
Daisy? I craned my neck to see down the street. "Daisy was here?"
"Thirty minutes ago," Jean-Claude said.
"What? You saw her?"
"She's not a ghost," Kit snapped.
"Actually, I didn't see her." Jean-Claude scratched his eight a.m. shadow. "I just saw the car driving away. It's a sweet ride."
Damn. I'd missed her!
"You better not be looking at her ride," Kit warned, his eyes dark.
Jean-Claude had a history of stealing cars in his youth. I wasn't so sure he'd given up the pastime. Not with his weird behavior lately.
Jean-Claude held up his hands, palms out. "What ride?"
Kit nodded.
My butt ached. I groaned and accepted Jean-Claude's hand to help me up.
BeBe strained at her leash to get back to me. "Why bring her here? Why not leave her at home?"
Kit's eyes widened. "By herself?"
"Yeah?"
"That's harsh, Nina. She's just a baby."
A hundred-and-fifty-pound baby.
"She's a dog."
Kit's face contorted in disbelief.
"Fine, fine," I said, giving in. "Just keep her out of the yard and get back to work."
"What am I supposed to do with her?"
I gave him a how-am-I-supposed-to-know look.
Jean-Claude cleared his throat. "I'll watch her."
My jaw dropped open. "Hello? You work for me. Besides, look what happened last time you watched her."
"She was just excited to see you," he said. "I wasn't prepared for it. Now I am."
Kit rubbed BeBe's ears. They flopped back and forth. "He has a point. And if he doesn't watch over her, I'm going to have to run her over to my mom's."
"Your mom lives in Lima." Four hours away round-trip.
"Exactly."
"Fine," I said, looking between the two of them. "But if I need your help, Jean-Claude, BeBe goes in the truck with the AC on. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Hmmph. Ma'am. That was twice this week. It made me want to fire him more than his recent misbehavior.
"Kit?" I asked.
"All right." He handed BeBe off to Jean-Claude, who wrapped the leash around his wrist three times and started off down the street.
Kit looked at me. "Home alone? C'mon, Nina."
"She's a dog!"
With a disgusted look, he turned and headed into the backyard.
Stanley Mack, the carpenter I contracted, drove up the street, a load of lumber in the back of his truck. I waved.
I managed to work for four hours straight without any other interruptions. It was almost eleven-thirty when someone tapped me on the shoulder. "Nina Quinn?"
The woman backed up a step when I turned. I wondered if it had anything to do with me being covered in dirt. "Yes?"
"I'm Kate Hathaway. President of the Fallow Falls Homeowners Association."
She was awfully pretty, with big blue eyes and reddishblonde hair. "Ah. Meredith sent you."
"Meredith is a bit high-strung." She smiled, showing no teeth, yet it still seemed genuine. "But she means well."
I wasn't so sure. Not about the high-strung part—she definitely was—but about the meaning well part. I thought she rather enjoyed being bossy and demanding.
When I didn't say anything, she went on. "I just need to make sure you have all the proper permits."
I'd dealt with HOAs before, so I knew the drill. "They're over here," I said, walking her to my truck. The little ankle bracelet she wore tinkled as we walked, reminding me of TBS's chimes, which reminded me of Tam, which reminded me I hadn't called her in the last thirty minutes to see if she was okay.
It would have to wait until I was done with Madame President.
I grabbed my clipboard and the folder where I kept important files. I was rooting through it when she said, "Does Greta know about this?"
"Greta?" I asked. The Lockharts' dog?
"She's rather particular."
My hand stilled. "The dog?"
"What dog?"
"Greta?"
Her big blue eyes got even bigger. "Greta's not—"
"Nina!" Jean-Claude yelled. "Help!"
In a blink I took it all in. The big black dog chasing the small white cat. The dog-sitter spread-eagle on the sidewalk, holding his wrist.
I dropped my papers and took off running after BeBe, who'd already disappeared into the backyard.
"BeBe," I yelled. "Here, BeBe!"
"BeBe!" Jean-Claude had picked himself up and was running alongside me. He turned worried eyes to me. "Is Kit going to kill me?"
"Yes."
He slowed down. "Maybe I should go."
I grabbed his arm, tugged him along. "Not until you catch her!"
"BeBe!" he yelled.
She wouldn't even look at us. Her focus was completely on the little cat who seemed to be enjoying running BeBe ragged.
The skid loader's engine fell silent. "Oh no," Jean-Claude murmured.
"BeBe! Come to Nina!" I urged. No luck. She galloped through the backyard, this way and that.
"Jean-Claude!" Kit bellowed.
Jean-Claude went pale.
"Maybe you ought to go after all," I said.
He turned and ran.
The cat dashed into the woods behind the house. BeBe followed it. I followed her.
Kit whistled, but BeBe wasn't listening. "What happened?" he yelled to me.
I thought it was fairly obvious, so I didn't answer.
The shady woods were full and thick with greenery. Everything from honeysuckle vines to squishy mushrooms covered the ground. Breathing hard, I hopped over a small creek and was relieved to see BeBe circling a large buckeye tree.
I bent at the waist, drawing in oxygen.
Kit powered through the woods and grabbed hold of BeBe's leash. He looked at me. "Time for a trip to the gym?"
"Ha." Gasp. "Ha."
BeBe apparently noticed my presence for the first time because she ran over and slobbered my face. "Eww!"
"She just loves you."
I shot Kit a look.
"Nina!" Coby yelled from the edge of the woods.
I walked toward him, noticing he looked a bit piqued. "What's wrong?"
He pointed to an older man standing near the house. "He wants to talk to you."
I didn't recognize him. I just hoped he wasn't another homeowners' official. Using the back of my hand, I wiped the sweat from my forehead, the drool from my face, and hurried down the hill.
I noticed two things right off. The man held a Growl take out bag in his hand (it's hard to miss being all black with bright yellow lettering), and he didn't look well at all. He was shouting at Marty.
"What is going on here? This is private property!" Sweat beaded on his brow. "Who are you people? No one gave permission for this!"
My lungs burned. Maybe a trip to the gym wasn't such a bad idea. Pulling in a shallow breath, I said, "I'll take care of this, Marty."
Next, I tried for a soothing tone. "Sir, calm down."
The take-out bag crinkled in his closed fist. "Don't tell me to calm down, little lady. This is America. I can be as not calm as I want! Where's my wife?"
Little lady. Hmm. I couldn't decide whether this insult was a step up or step down from "ma'am."
Kit snorted from behind me. I turned and gave him the evil eye. Even BeBe ducked behind Kit's legs.
The man stomped across the cracked cement patio, threw open the back door of the house, and disappeared inside. The house I was quickly suspecting did not belong to the Lockharts.
Digging Up Trouble Page 4
