Hidden Hills

by Jannette Spann

  “I’ve seen the way you look at each other,” Mark said. “You’re the only one she’ll listen to.”

  Jake glanced at Maggie and Andy digging in the toy chest in the waiting room. He didn’t think they could hear them. “Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll do my best.”

  Mark hesitated, his conscience seeming to battle against a strong familial loyalty. It was commendable, but badly misplaced.

  “I can assure you, anything you say goes no farther than this room.”

  “Fair enough.” He removed his lab jacket, indicating his day was over. “I’m not sure how much you know about Charlotte’s finances, but you know she’s broke, so I’m assuming she’s confided in you.”

  “We’ve been over a few things.”

  “Okay. For starters, Dad’s going to make an offer to buy the property for what she owes in Wilson’s Realty name, prior to the foreclosure. If she won’t sell, then he plans to wait until the estate goes into foreclosure. Once Charlotte loses the house, or sells to the business, the terms of the will have been met. There’s nothing to stop him from buying it outright in his name.”

  Jake thought for a moment, recalling an article he’d read after learning of Charlotte’s problems. “State law says a notice of foreclosure has to be run in the local paper for three weeks, then the sheriff auctions off the property at the courthouse. If that happens, how can your dad be sure about having the highest bid?”

  “I don’t know,” Mark said. “But I promise, he’ll get Grandpa’s estate if you don’t stop him.”

  He didn’t like what he was hearing. “And he’ll still demand the thirty thousand. It sounds like she’s sunk, unless the house sells to an outside buyer.”

  “It’s not going to an outsider,” Mark added. “Charlotte doesn’t know Dad owns Wilson’s Realty. I’ve heard he’s telling potential buyers Hidden Hill’s has already sold. Like I said, he’s determined to get Grandpa’s estate.”

  “I know.” Jake recounted his morning visit. “How much money does Charlotte have invested in the place?”

  Mark’s arms were crossed while he studied the tile floor and did some quick calculations. “Let’s see, Mitch sold their first home, borrowed on his life insurance, and cashed in everything they had, plus the money from Dad. I’d say probably upward of three hundred thousand.”

  Knowing the dollar amount made the seriousness of the situation clearer. It was hard to understand why anyone could hate Charlotte so much. What had she possibly done to make Mitch’s parents feel this way, or were they afraid she would remarry and the estate would leave the family?

  “I had no idea of the amount. How can he want her to lose so much money? Does the fact she’s raising Mitch’s kids not mean anything?”

  “Like I said, money is money, and there’s no love lost between Dad and Charlotte. If his plan works, by this time next year, Hidden Hills will be a country resort. He’s got a paving crew ready to asphalt the dirt road as far as the bridge and bulldozers on standby to join Sam Drenfield’s fishponds together. We’re talking about a ninety-acre lake, fully stocked.”

  Jake had proof it wouldn’t take a year. “Is Drenfield in with your dad?”

  Maggie came bouncing into the room, waving a princess crown in the air. “Are we going fishing?”

  “Not today,” Mark said, urging her back toward the toy chest. “Why don’t you get Becky something?” He waited until she’d started digging again before he continued. “As far as I know, Sam’s holding out for more money.”

  Jake reached for the webpage in his pocket, then thought better of it. He’d never been much of a poker player, but he knew not to show his cards until he was sure of the hand he’d been dealt. Mark came across as a straight shooter, but this was his father they were talking about.

  On their way home, Jake and the kids went by to check on Cucumber and her kittens and put out fresh food. The day of reckoning was getting close for the cats. Their fate rested in the hands of the judge unless he could think of something fast.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jake’s grim mood brightened considerably when he returned home, and saw Charlotte, dressed in cut-offs and an old tee-shirt, materialize from under the hood of her car, a greasy rag swinging in one hand and an empty oil bottle in the other. He adjusted his cap, reached back to unbuckle Andy’s seat belt, then opened the truck door.

  “Hey, neighbor,” she called. “How were the check-ups?”

  He slid out of the truck, his eyes never once leaving her grease-smeared face. Charlotte McGregor had to be the prettiest mechanic this side of the Mason-Dixon. Her bright smile made his heart race, and he crossed over to her yard, a fresh spring in his step.

  “Maggie’s fine, and I’m still bald. How is it with you?”

  “Don’t ask!” She closed the hood; a solid slam shook the car.

  He leaned against her old hatchback, amazed it still ran. “How many miles does she have?”

  “More than me, but I’m gaining fast.” She wiped the oil from her hands. “They did a good job. It looks nice.”

  “What does?”

  She nodded behind him. “The yard.”

  He’d been so wrapped up in watching Charlotte he hadn’t noticed the open space separating their houses. Now he stared dumbfounded at the spot where the overgrown hedge had stood undisturbed for the past ten years. It was gone, the ground tilled and raked smooth.

  The nerves in the back of his neck tighten into rigid bands. First his scalp — now this! He glared at Charlotte. A fierce anger surged through him when she appeared more concerned with the grease under her nails than anything he was feeling. Her brazen indifference rubbed salt in an open wound. “What happened to my hedge? Betty planted the hedge, and you had no right to get rid of it!”

  Her chin shot up. “You think I did it?”

  “Who else? You’ve always hated it!”

  The greasy rag slammed against the car. “What did I use, my scissors?”

  Jake didn’t know why he was accusing Charlotte. He’d seen her sorry excuse for a toolbox with its hammer and handful of bent nails. She didn’t own a saw, much less a shovel or rake. An apology might have gone a long way toward saving the day had he given one, but Becky and Bruce rounded the corner coming to a screeching halt at the sight of him.

  “I should have known.” His anger mounted, disappointed the boy cared so little for his mother’s memory. “He’s gone too far this time.”

  “Now, Jake.” Charlotte jumped between him and their kids like a human shield. Her hands pushed against his chest, leaving oily fingerprints on his blue dress shirt. “You don’t know for sure it was Bruce. Mistakes happen. Someone might have gotten the address wrong.”

  Grim certainty marked his expression. “Just how many houses on this street are separated by hedgerows?”

  His large hands clamped her shoulders, picked her up, and moved her aside to get to the kids. “Come here!”

  Lunging from behind, Charlotte locked both arms around his middle and made him stagger. For a featherweight, she had a solid grip.

  “A minute ago you were blaming me!” she cried. “Why don’t you try listening for a change?”

  “Excuse me, folks,” came an amused voice from somewhere behind them. “I hate to break up a good fight, but I have a bill for a Ms. McGregor.”

  Her arms went limp, and they turned in unison to see a tan, muscular man about their age walking toward them. His green cap and shirt matched the truck parked at the curb, both carrying the Larry’s Landscaping Service logo in bright yellow print.

  Jake fumed when the man’s eyes consumed Charlotte from head to toe, but when he handed her the invoice and his fingers deliberately brushed against hers — he saw red. The guy wasn’t any taller or better looking than himself, he reasoned, just a swift reminder adolescence wasn’t the only time testosterone ruled the male brain. He had squatters’ rights.

  In an effort to reaffirm his claim, Jake slid his arm around Charlotte’s shoulder an
d locked her to his side. He glanced down expecting a fight, but she’d gone pale as a ghost.

  “Oh, my…” she began, staring at the total. “I don’t have any cash. Will a check do?”

  “Give it here!” He snatched the bill from her shaky hand. Women! He’d swear this one didn’t have a pot to pee in, but if pride were money she’d be a millionaire. This beat all; he couldn’t believe he was paying for the privilege of being victimized, but here he was pulling out his wallet like he had good sense. “I’ll pay it!”

  He felt a slight tug on his sleeve. “The bill has my name on it,” she said, the color returning to her cheeks. “But it wasn’t me.”

  “I know.” He glared at the landscaper for being alive. The way he saw it, the man should have been paying more attention to his money and less to Charlotte.

  The wallet sliding into his back pocket was as flat as a proverbial pancake, but at least the bill was marked paid-in-full, thereby eliminating any reason Larry’s Landscaping might have for a return call. All in all, it was money well spent.

  “I’m truly sorry, Jake. Jeremy told me they were spending time on your computer, but I never dreamed they’d do something like this.”

  Charlotte’s remorse-filled eyes made him forget about the money — almost. He propped his hands on his hips and gave a significant nod in the kids’ direction. They were huddled together, all five of them, looking as angelic as babes in a cradle, but he knew better. The cap on his head was a constant reminder of what Maggie had done, and now, if he wasn’t badly mistaken, he’d seen firsthand what the older girl could do. As for his boys, he wouldn’t even go there. “Who’s taking responsibility for this mess?”

  The quick glance passing between Bruce and Becky was enough to confirm his suspicions. He nodded. “You two — come here.”

  Bruce took a deep breath, reconciling himself to his fate as Jake knew he would, but Becky’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and her bottom lip quivered. She sniffed.

  “Well? I’m waiting.”

  “Sor-ree.”

  “Sorry’s not good enough.”

  Becky’s face crumpled as big crocodile tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Stop crying and answer me!”

  “That’s enough, Jake!” Charlotte snapped, her protective arms encircling the girl’s trembling shoulders. “It’s just a bunch of bushes. The yard looks better without them.”

  “Not just any bushes,” he fired back. “They were Betty’s, and now they’re gone.”

  “It’s not the end of the world.”

  “You don’t understand!”

  Charlotte’s eyes shot daggers as she gathered her chicks close like a mother hen. “Come on, girls, let’s go inside. I can tell when we’re not wanted.”

  Jake glared at her disappearing backside, her parting shot ringing in his ears. The woman was clueless to how badly he wanted her. Following suit, he stormed inside, leaving his eight-year-old with a stunned expression. His boys had come together as a united front, but he knew they wouldn’t follow him until he’d had time to cool off.

  The jumbled thoughts ran wild as he paced the kitchen floor. He still loved Betty — always would — but she was gone. Accepting it had been hard, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t keep something she’d nourished with her own hands. Hadn’t he done what everyone said, removing her personal things? He’d moved on, even to the point of dating a few times.

  His gaze traveled the length of the kitchen to the adjoining den, where reality stabbed him in the heart. He’d been a widower for over three years, yet none of the furniture had been moved throughout the entire house, not even the baby bed, although Andy hadn’t slept in it for well over a year. It was as if time had stopped on the day Betty died.

  A sharp knock intruded his thoughts, and Charlotte barged in without warning, slamming her personal check on the table. “Just for the record, it was Becky — not Bruce, and I take full responsibility for the hedge! Hold this ‘til Friday. It won’t be the same, but I’ll replace every last bush!”

  Jake felt like unleavened bread. “It doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”

  “What?” Her eyes flashed, and the stubborn set of her jaw meant she hadn’t cooled a bit. “It sure mattered a few minutes ago when you scared Becky half to death!”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s hard to explain.” He wished he’d kept his mouth shut instead of making a fool of himself. “Let’s just say my priorities got mixed up, okay? I’d rather just drop it.”

  A moment passed with neither saying anything. He’d never been good with words, and at times like this it was worse.

  Charlotte placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Jake, I know what it’s like giving up things that tied you to her memory. It tore me apart leaving the home Mitch loved, but then I realized I’ve got our girls. They’re a bigger part of him than anything material could ever be.”

  He sat like a dummy, knowing she was right. The words he needed to say wouldn’t come and the silence grew, creating a wall between them.

  She walked to the door, placing her hand on the knob, a sadness he’d never heard before was in her voice. “I’m sorry we hurt you. From now on, we’ll stay on our side of the line.”

  “Charlotte.” Jake called her name, but she’d already gone. He’d been so worried about her needing time to put her memories to rest, he’d completely forgotten about his own. All this time, he’d been clinging to the past as if it were a lifeline keeping him afloat. Until today, he’d thought she needed him, but now he knew he needed her even more. In the short time he’d known her, she’d become more than just a friend. Having her next door had given him hope for the future. Now he’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again.

  ****

  Supper was quiet. The only one making an effort was Jake, and he finally gave up. His apology to Bruce fell on deaf ears, making it clear his boys were on Charlotte’s side.

  “I’ll have to be gone Friday night.” Their sulky expressions became even more so. His absence was nothing new.

  Jeremy pushed the lumpy potatoes around in his plate. “Are you working?”

  “No, it’s…”

  Bruce’s head shot up. “You ain’t going out with old dumb Loretta again — she’s puke!”

  The mention of the woman’s name caused an unholy uproar with the other boys. Their feelings for the pretty brunette were plain. Jake raised his hand.

  “No,” he said, once they’d settled down. “It’s a dinner to thank my employees for opening the new store on time.”

  “Can we go?”

  “It’s just grown-ups. I hate to leave you guys again, but I promised.”

  “Are you taking Charlotte?” Bruce said around his mouth full of peas. “She’s the prettiest grown-up I know.”

  Jeremy agreed. “She’s off Friday night.”

  Jake hated to disappoint them again, but her personal check lay torn in half on the counter — a reminder of the afternoon’s disaster. “She’s not talking to me anymore.”

  Bruce groaned. “Aw shucks, Dad!”

  “It’s okay. She’s not mad at any of you.”

  The boy slumped in his chair. “You sure blew it this time!”

  Jake didn’t need reminding. He knew from their stares of total disgust, dire repercussions were in store if he didn’t fix things. Their feelings for Charlotte and her girls couldn’t be much clearer.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Charlotte stared out the window, her mind in turmoil. So far, the to-do list on the cabinet door remained stagnant. She washed her hands, drying them before adding Jake’s hedge to the list and marking off the oil she’d put in her car. Life wasn’t fair. The bushes would cost a lot more than a quart of oil.

  “Remember, baby, it takes hard work to get ahead,” her dad had said, when she’d shared her dreams with him. He’d lived by the rule and been fairly successful, but she was bone weary from working two jobs and getting n
owhere.

  She’d stood in this exact spot at her kitchen window, watching the backhoe rip through the ground. Jake was right — she’d hated the hedge. It had been scraggy and overgrown, but it never crossed her mind he hadn’t hired the men.

  Tears stung her eyes when she tried to focus on the growing stack of unpaid bills on her table. Until a few minutes ago, she’d been wondering which to pay, but now, thanks to Becky’s handiwork, they would all be late. She released her breath in a long, weary sigh and buried her face in her hands. First it was Maggie ruining his hair and now this. Could it get any worse?

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” Becky said, in a subdued voice. “Don’t cry. It’ll be all right.”

  Charlotte peeked through her fingers to see her girls in their pink nighties clutching String and Patch, the old bears she’d found in a thrift store. Maggie wiggled onto her lap while Becky leaned against the chair.

  “Mr. Jake was mad, huh, Mama?”

  She squeezed them close. “Yes, Becky. I’d say he probably rues the day we moved in.”

  Maggie giggled. “Yeah, I’m glad we moved here, too.”

  Even with all that had happened, Charlotte had to agree it was the best decision she’d made in a long time. Their smiling faces provided the proof she needed; the world was right once more.

  “It’s time you girls were in bed.”

  After setting the timer on the coffeepot and rechecking the locks, Charlotte followed them upstairs. She was restless and tired — extremely tired — but something made her glance out the window at the house next door. It was dark except for the lamp above the computer where Jake sat staring at the screen.

  She quickly shut off the lights so he wouldn’t see her if he happened to look up. Spying on her neighbors had never been a hobby, but she couldn’t seem to pull away. His wire-framed glasses made him seem more distinguished, until he rocked back in his chair, and the lamp reflected the redness of his scalp. A truckload of guilt washed over her.