"Talk about not being a morning person."
"Is Riley okay? Is that why you're calling?"
I yawned. Doing recon took its toll.
"He's fine," Kevin said. "I just dropped him off at work. Can you pick him up?"
"Sure."
"Great. All right, I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"
"Good," I said. I could use a pick-me-up.
"The Grabinsky yard has been cleared. As soon as you get the go-ahead from Greta Grabinsky you can finish the job there."
Oh, like that was going to be easy.
I debated whether I should tell him about the conversation in Greta's kitchen I'd overheard. Decided it was the right thing to do. Taking a deep breath, I told Kevin about the threats.
"And how do you know about these threats?" he asked. I heard irritation in his voice.
"I, um, told you. I overheard."
"And where were you?"
"Ah, um, in the Grabinskys' yard?"
"Nina . . ." he warned.
I sat upright, getting tangled in the chenille blanket. "I've, um, got to go."
"Wait!"
I winced, bracing for the worst.
"We can hash out the whole trespassing thing later, not to mention crossing a crime scene line." He sighed. "The bad news . . ."
I'd forgotten about the bad news. My heart sank down to the pit of my stomach. "Do I want to know?"
"You have to know."
"What is it?"
His voice dropped to a whisper, as though he didn't want to be overheard. "I shouldn't be telling you this."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I kept quiet.
"The captain, well, he's looking to make a case with the prosecutor's office."
"What kind of case?"
"There was a case in New Jersey recently where a man died of a heart attack because he'd been scared to death at a bank robbery."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that the prosecutor's office is looking into charging someone with murder for Russ Grabinsky's death."
"Someone as in me?"
"You and the Lockharts."
"Even if it was a heart attack?"
"Even if. It's like what that annoying HOA lady was saying the other day. He might have died from the shock of it all. Look, the prosecutor is desperate to make a name for himself, Nina. You know the problems the department has had lately, so the captain is bending over backward to help him."
There had been some rumblings over the past six months in the department of briberies and kickbacks, rumors of bad cops. Nothing had ever come of it, and the prosecutor ended up looking like a fool.
"I was just doing my job!"
"Nina, calm down. I'm just saying it's being talked about. And it probably wouldn't be murder charges. Maybe man one, or involuntary manslaughter."
"Oh, that makes me feel much better."
"I just wanted to let you know."
"Thanks," I mumbled and hung up the phone.
"You okay?" Ana asked from the doorway.
I looked up at her. "If I get probation, will you find a good job for me?"
Thirteen
I was afraid to go home, but since I didn't have any clean clothes, I didn't have a choice.
Ana had done her best to cheer me up, but at ten on a Sunday Ana is not at her best. Especially since she'd had many more drinks than I did last night.
Ana dropped me off and drove away before I even made it to the front steps. I didn't blame her. She knew my mother was inside and assumed my father had filled her in on our foray into the Blue Zone. She didn't want the lecture any more than I did.
Unfortunately I didn't have a choice.
Ana really didn't either. She was just delaying the inevitable. My mother had a long memory and would undoubtedly bring up this situation the next time she saw her.
The front door flew open before my foot hit the porch. "Chérie! How was it?" She waggled her eyebrows.
It took me a second to process what she was saying. "Good?" I hedged.
Maybe my father hadn't spoken to her yet . . . Maybe she still thought I'd spent the night with Bobby . . .
"Are you asking me, chérie?"
I decided to keep her in the dark. For now. "No, no. It was
good." Fantasies of me and Bobby in bed played in my mind. "Really good."
I stepped into the house, preparing for the worst. I'd seen some of those home improvement shows and their nightmare results.
Oh, not all of them were disastrous, but Maria had had orange paint on her. Orange.
Dear Lord.
Paint fumes lingered in the air, but as I looked around, I didn't see any evidence of paint. I looked at my mother. "What room did you change?"
"Upstairs. Were there candles? I love when your father lights a lot of can—"
"Eww! Stop!"
"What?"
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Why? I am your mamá! You can talk to me about everything."
Except that. I shuddered. "Where's Maria?"
"Shopping."
Ah.
"Want to see your room?" she asked me, her face lighting.
Orange. I sucked it up. "Sure."
She latched onto my hand, her skin smooth. Time had been kind to her. Barely any wrinkles marred her creamy white complexion. Maria was the spitting image of her, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a natural grace.
I took after my father. And after seeing him last night, I was beginning to worry how I'd turn out.
"You're all tense," my mother said, looking back at me as we climbed the stairs. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." I didn't want to worry her with the whole Grabinsky thing. Not until there was something to worry about. "Late night," I said.
When my mother broke into a smile, I realized it had been the wrong thing to say. I fully expected another maternal interrogation, and was surprised when she didn't ask any questions. She simply said, "I'm happy for you, chérie."
I swallowed over a sudden lump in my throat and fought off tears. She, at times, could say just the right thing.
She patted my hand. "You can have all day to rest."
I wished I could. I needed to speak with Greta Grabinsky. I also had work to do. TBS was open on Sundays for a half day. Usually it was time to meet with clients, catch up on paperwork, but today there was a mini going on. Deanna's first, planned solo.
She had the confidence and know-how to pull it off, but I wanted to at least pop in at the site and give her encouragement and support.
I also needed to call Bobby to plan when we could get together. To talk.
"Come, come," my mother said. "I cannot wait for you to see your room."
Worried, I held my breath as she pushed open my door.
"Ta-da!"
All I could do was stare. And stare some more.
Gone was my standard, no muss no fuss bed. Gone were the two dressers, one still empty in Kevin's absence. The paint had gone from a bland white to a creamy yellow.
No orange!
My inner self did a happy dance.
I walked in, absorbing.
A queen-size canopy bed angled in the corner took up most of the space. The canopy was made of white flowing gauze material. The bed looked heavenly with a mile high feather bed, thick ivory down comforter, and tons of pillows. Hints of cranberry color popped up here and there. In the pillows on the bed, on the lamp on the bedside table, in the throw rugs on my new hardwood floor.
I blinked.
Hardwood?
"Did you do all this yourselves?"
My mother winked. "We had help."
"It's so beautiful."
She clapped, reminding me again of Maria. "We knew you'd like it!"
I never would have thought I'd like something so feminine, but it appealed to a side of me I rarely indulged. This was so perfect. For so many reasons. The biggest being that it helped to erase the memories of Kevin from this room.
"I don't
know what to say."
"There's no need to say anything. You do for so many, chérie. It was time someone did for you."
"Thank you, Mom, it's beautiful."
And I couldn't help but think I wanted to show it to Bobby as soon as possible.
As I spun, taking in the little details, the touches of wrought iron, the new crown molding, I caught a glimpse of my adjoining bathroom and noticed that the seventies era flowered wallpaper wasn't up anymore.
"Did you do the bathroom too?" I asked, amazed. I started forward to get a better look.
My mother dashed in front of me, blocked the entrance.
I hadn't known she could move so fast. Usually she walked with a slow casualness that drove me nuts.
"Um, well—" My mother rarely stuttered. "We thought it needed updating also."
I tried to peer over her shoulder. "Anything is better than Aunt Chi-Chi's old wallpaper."
It had truly been hideous, teal and navy flowers.
"Yes, well . . ."
I stood on tiptoes, suddenly suspicious. "What's wrong?"
"Wrong? What could be wrong?"
"I don't know. You're the one who won't let me see."
She brushed a lock of blonde hair off her forehead, swept it back with a practiced grace. "It's simply not done yet."
I made a move to peek over her shoulder, but ducked at the last minute under her rigid arm and pushed my way into my bathroom.
Or what was left of my bathroom.
"Oh. My."
"It's not so bad, chérie."
I looked around at the big gaping holes in my walls. Everything was . . .
Worthy of a state of emergency declaration.
The tub was pulled away from the wall, the showerhead and tiles gone. My vanity sat in the middle of the floor, which no longer had any linoleum on it. The sink was filled with dust, and the plumbing, the pipes, and doodads I didn't know the names of stuck out of the wall.
"What happened?" I asked.
"It all started with the wallpaper. It tore the plaster from the wall when we took it off. The plasterer we called told us it wasn't worth restoring and suggested we gut it and replace it with drywall. The demo crew will be here tomorrow."
The demo crew. Here. Tomorrow.
"When will they be done?"
"Good things are worth waiting for, chérie."
Ugh!
Absently, I wondered who was paying for all this, and de cided I'd jump that hurdle later.
For now, my thoughts of a hot relaxing shower vanished faster than Riley when I'd brought up the topic of safe sex.
"Don't look so forlorn. There is another bathroom in the house."
Riley's.
I shuddered.
Forcing myself to remember that my mother had only been trying to do something nice for me, I mustered up a smile. "I'm sure it will look really nice."
She kissed both my cheeks, yawned and said, "I'm going home now."
To see my father. Who'd undoubtedly fill her in on my nighttime adventure.
I saw her off, called Maria and left a thank-you message on her voice mail, and quickly took a shower in Riley's bathroom, trying not to feel displaced.
The phone rang as I was slipping into a clean pair of shorts.
"Hey," Bobby said.
I sighed. I couldn't help myself. His voice did that to me. It was a totally feminine reaction I hated, but it wasn't to be helped. And it almost—almost—made me forget all about my legal problems and construction woes.
"Hi," I said.
"Sleep well?"
Well enough considering Ana hogged covers and tended to throw elbows while she slept.
But he didn't need to know all that right now. I'd fill him in later. "Good. You?"
"I was lonely," he said in a way that heated my blood.
For some reason, I kept hearing faint strains of "Are You Lonesome Tonight" in my head. "Oh?"
"Is that all I get? An 'oh'?"
I should maybe tell him how I'd had to sit down because my knees had gone weak at the thoughts of me and him, him and me in my new bed. "It's a good oh," I said.
"Is there such a thing?"
"Definitely."
I heard a smile in his voice as he said, "I'll keep that in mind. How's your schedule?" he asked. "Is lunch a possibility?"
I've got something important to ask you.
I chewed a fingernail.
"Nina?"
I'd have to deal with it sooner or later. Might as well be sooner. Right?
I eyed my fingernails, looking for a jagged edge. Sooner just wasn't working for me. I needed a little more time. "I've actually got to work this afternoon." Which was true, so I didn't feel the least bit guilty.
Okay, a little guilty.
"How about dinner?"
Dinner sometimes led to dessert. And nightcaps. And big fluffy beds. "Sounds good."
We agreed to a time, and I hung up, feeling slightly queasy yet excited at the same time. I knew I had to head into work, but if I was to be using Riley's bathroom for the foreseeable future, it needed to be cleaned. Scrubbed, actually.
As I gathered up supplies, I couldn't help but remember that cleaning the bathrooms had been Kevin's household chore. I'd loved that about him.
Loved.
Love?
Don't think about it, I told myself. Over and over.
I threw myself into scrubbing, trying to figure out what to do about Greta Grabinsky.
Did she want me to finish the yard or not? In her current state of mind, I'd have to say no. But if a foreclosure lawsuit was pending, did she have a choice?
Had the lawsuit been dropped as the man in her kitchen insinuated? I wondered how I could find out, and decided to check with Kate Hathaway, the Fallow Falls HOA president. She'd know one way or another.
Thank goodness I'd already been paid for the job.
No refunds.
Not that I could see Bill and Lindsey asking for one. Not after all they put me through.
I'd decided not to sue them unless I was sued by Greta. Unlike the Fallow Falls community, I wasn't lawsuit happy.
But I could hold a grudge. And I did against the Lockharts. They'd out and out used me.
But hadn't you used them? my inner voice asked.
No.
Maybe.
Kinda-sorta.
Okay, so I'd wanted to know about Kevin's first wife . . . That wasn't a crime. I'd still planned to do a good job for them.
And look where it'd landed me. With a pending lawsuit, possible murder charges, and no information—nada, zip, nothing—on Leah Quinn.
I finished the bathroom, tidied up, locked the house. As I backed out of my driveway on my way to work, I saw Mr. Cabrera watering his flower beds. Boom-Boom sat on his front step, keeping him company.
She apparently hadn't heard about Mr. Cabrera's curse yet.
Brickhouse would be thrilled to pieces.
Speaking of Brickhouse, I needed to mentally prepare myself for her gloating. I'd planned to visit Tam sometime during the day. I couldn't imagine it was any fun being in the hospital all day with nothing to do. And though she and Ian were now living together, she didn't have any family in the area. Thankfully, I had plenty to spare, and I made a quick call to my mother, who would have Tam surrounded by lasagnas and bear hugs before sunset.
TBS was locked tight when I got there. The chimes still hung from the door, but they didn't sound as harmonious as before. I plucked a boxwood stem from one of the pipes and went to check my messages.
There were six from Deanna, who apparently was having a panic attack over her solo job today. Thankfully, Kit would be there to keep her sane.
As I popped open a Dr Pepper, I wondered if Deanna really had a crush on Kit or if she was just playing with him. I hoped it was the latter, because Deanna was young and sweet and I didn't want her to have a broken heart.
I sat at my desk, answered relevant e-mails, deleted spam, except for the ad for hair growth, wh
ich I forwarded to Kit's e-mail. He'd appreciate the joke, I was sure.
Digging Up Trouble Page 11
