I nodded. She sat on the swing with me and we pushed it lightly with our toes, having exhausted any real conversation. Or actually, just waiting for the real reason Holly bought me a statue and carted it over to my backyard.
“So, how’s it going with lover boy?” she asked, leaning away from me with a small grin.
I elbowed her. “Cute.” I did a neck roll. “He thinks Cass is nice and like me when I was her age.”
“She is.”
“I wish she’d quit going over there.”
“Well, she probably wants to visit with Mom before she takes off for the wild, wild West,” Holly said snarkily.
And—there it was.
I sighed. “Yeah, I know. But it’s giving me an ulcer.”
“Are you going over there today?” she asked.
“I guess. Was kind of hoping to ignore it today, but I’ll probably end up there.” I looked at her. “Why?”
She shook her head and gazed out at the pretty picture she’d made with the statue. “Just wondering.”
“Yeah, I still have to finish my room, and I was thinking there’s probably a ton of crap in the attic. Mom doesn’t need to be climbing around up there.”
“I can’t believe she’s actually doing this,” Holly said, crossing her arms.
I looked at her profile. The perfect white skin that showed tiny lines around her eyes. The perfect red hair that no one ever saw messy. The pale blue eyes that were always so set and serious. Holly always did things the way they were supposed to be done. She always followed the rules. Always stayed in the lines.
She would never sell a rock-solid foundation to live on wheels. She would never climb out a window and sneak down to the river to go swimming or drink a beer. Or crawl up in the tree over the house to disappear. Or have sex on the garage roof.
Holly lived safe. Stiff. With her arms crossed. My stomach burned as I saw her with different eyes and thought of Ben’s words. Was I becoming my sister?
“She appears to be,” I said, not really hearing my own voice as that thought bounced around.
“Do you know what the tax ramifications will be if she doesn’t buy another house?” Holly asked.
A little laugh came out. “Yeah, actually, I do know a little about that.”
She cut her eyes at me and sighed impatiently. “I know you do. Does she?”
“I don’t know, but she’s a big girl, Holly. You’re not her mother. She’ll figure it all out. She can put it in a trust or investment and be just fine.”
“And everything they worked for their whole life was for nothing.”
“That’s not our call,” I said, and then gave her a double take. “Is that really what’s got you so bugged on this? Mom’s tax issues?”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked, reaching for her hair. That told me she was more eaten up than she let on.
“Sentimentally, yeah,” I said, pushing off with a toe again. “But not for the reasons you’re saying. There are a lot of memories there.”
“Exactly.”
I stared at the statue, wishing so badly that I could tell her what had been happening at the house. “Lately, even more than I realized.”
“And how can she just walk away from that?” Holly said, twisting furiously at her hair. “Dad would be mortified.”
I frowned in her direction. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he worked himself to death for that house. So they wouldn’t lose it when the store went under.”
I blinked at her adamant tone. I’d never heard her so opinionated about it before. “Okay,” I said. “He also wanted nothing more than to travel. So I think he’d be happy for her.”
Holly got up so fast, I had to grab on to the swing to steady it back out. “You think he’d be happy that she’s going to drive around the country with another crazy old woman in a gas-guzzling unreliable piece of shit? He had a cow when we didn’t check our oil every three thousand miles, and we were still living at home!”
I had to laugh at that; she did have a point. “I know.”
“And calling that thing Big Blue—” Holly shook her head. “All the time. Like it’s a person or a man in her life or something. Makes my skin crawl.”
My cell did its little chime thing, telling me I had an e-mail. “Hey, I’m just saying it’s not for us to get all mad about.”
“Well, you can be okay with it all you want,” she said as I typed back to a client that I’d meet them in thirty. “I’m not.”
I glanced up at her as I hit send. “No secret there.” I got up and brushed my pants off. “I’ve gotta go change and meet a client over in Garwood Estates to show a house. I’ll probably go to Mom’s afterward if you want to meet me there.”
Holly sighed and smoothed her hair, visibly attempting to regain her famous self-control. “Call me when you’re on your way,” she said calmly. “I’ll see what I’m doing then.”
• • •
GARWOOD ESTATES WAS THE NEWEST ADDITION IN TOWN, ALL shiny and polished with the best of everything. In ten years, after the baby trees grew up and offered some shade, I could see the appeal, but it was a bit too new and sunny to me. I preferred some charm and character to a home. But I suppose every house had to start somewhere. Everything was new once upon a time.
As I walked through the house at 459 Lance Street, waiting on the couple to show up, I scrunched my nose at the wood laminate flooring that echoed under my heels. For what the prices ran in that addition, they could have put in actual wood floors. The ceiling in the entryway was easily thirty feet up, which to me was a waste of utilities to heat and cool the place. That space could have been lofted and made into a sitting area or playroom or recreation area and been really interesting. And the stone fireplace, while gorgeous—was faux fronted. And electric.
Okay, I was nitpicking, I knew that, but where was the charm there? I knew many people who loved the convenience of fake fireplaces—just flick a switch and voila! Personally, I want some wood. I want some aroma. I want some sparks and embers and I want to get in there with the poker and mess around with the wood while it’s burning.
I heard the knock and put on my sales face, leading the eager-faced couple around the house, pointing out the built-in appliances that gleamed from their ordained places. No stains tainted their fronts. No tiles were chipped in the immaculate cooktop island. No grout was discolored anywhere in the almost three-thousand-square-foot masterpiece.
“It’s so beautiful,” the lady breathed to her husband. “I’m almost afraid to touch anything.”
The man nodded, his eyes taking in the crown molding that laced every room. “I know, it’s kind of hard to imagine actually living here.” He looked at me and laughed. “Our two kids would have this place destroyed in a week.”
“I don’t even know if my furniture is worthy,” the woman said, laughing, too. She nudged her husband. “We’d have to buy new. Ours is too grungy.”
I thought of my mother’s house and its banged-up appliances and worn-out carpet that would likely come out. The old wood floors underneath. The solid wood bar with the handmade cabinets. The old Formica bathroom counters. The gas heaters in the walls and the wainscot wood paneling still upstairs in my dad’s office because they never got that far in their redo.
“I know what you’re saying,” I said. “If you’re more interested in an older home, I have some nice ones I can show you next week. Just need to arrange it with the owners.”
The couple exchanged glances. “Yeah, let’s do that,” the husband said. “Gives us some options on which way to go.”
I smiled. “Sounds good.”
It was beginning.
When I made it to Mom’s house twenty minutes later, Holly was already there, which surprised me because I forgot to call her. To my addition
al joy, Ben was there as well.
“Damn it,” I said to the steering wheel as I pulled in. “Can’t he take a day off?”
I went in the front door, deciding that when the house did sell, I was taking the knocker with me. I filled my lungs for inner strength as I entered, not expecting to be accosted by fumes.
“Jesus, what the—”
And then I saw what. As I walked past the stairway, I was stunned. From the kitchen, all the way through to the den, the old paneling was gone. I had to blink to adjust my vision to the brightness coming in the windows. The windows with no curtains. Or TV in front of them. Or tables next to them. Or furniture facing them. The room was empty except for the plastic across the carpet and Ben standing in it rolling paint on the wall.
Holly sat at the bar watching in silence, and Mom was at the sink chopping a mountain of potatoes.
“What the hell?”
Even Tandy stayed in her bed and didn’t bother to come growl at me. It was like even she was traumatized.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom said without turning around. “What do you think of the new color?”
“Really?” I said, feeling a little like Holly for a second. “That’s not my first thought.”
Mom looked back over her shoulder. “What?” she said, looking confused as she held a knife with little bits of raw potato stuck to it.
I pointed. “Where is—everything?”
“In the storage building,” Mom said, going back to her chopping as if that made perfect sense. “I told y’all I got one.”
I shook my head, thinking that there were no more words. I nudged Holly, who hadn’t even twitched.
“You could have warned me.”
“I—sort of forgot everything when I got here. Sorry.”
She looked defeated, and I felt bad for her. I looked at the bare, bright room being doused in a shade of taupe that was actually pretty. But it no longer resembled the room where we used to have blanket forts and slumber parties.
Ben had already painted the ceiling, and two of the walls, and was going at the third like we weren’t even there.
“How did—I mean, there was—actual furniture in here,” I said. “Yesterday.”
“Yes,” my mother said as she calmly diced five million little potato cubes. “Ben and Cassidy and Josh came and the four of us got everything brought over there last night.”
My eyebrows shot up. No one saw it. Ben was like a freaking hologram, painting ten feet away like he couldn’t even hear us. Holly stared straight ahead.
“Ben and Cassidy and Josh,” I repeated, landing on a bar stool next to Holly, forcing her to look at me. “All working together.” I smiled. “How nice.”
“Yep,” Mom said. “Josh had a trailer.”
“Really?” I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Mom turned around again. “Because we had enough people.”
“Mmm.” I nodded and tried to let it go at that, but my need to keep going at all costs overcame. “Everything go okay?”
Mom frowned. “Yes, Mommy, she drank all her milk, too.” She turned back around as I gave her a look. “My gosh, and you talk about Kevin being a hoverer.”
“How is Kevin?” Ben asked, coming out of silent mode on his way back to the garage. I saw the sarcasm in his face as he spoke his name.
“Kevin’s just fine,” said Kevin as he strode through the back door.
“Oh, crap,” I muttered under my breath. I heard Holly snicker next to me.
Ben swung around, the surprise flickering for just a second before he masked it. He offered Kevin his free hand. “Lockwood. Good to see you, man.”
Kevin looked dumbfounded as he put his hand out on autopilot. “Landry.” His eyes went to me as if I’d put Ben there myself. “My God, where’d you come from?” Then he caught sight of the room. “Holy cow.”
Ben let his hand go to grab a rag off a stool. “Just about ran you over with a paint roller. Wasn’t expecting anyone to just walk in.”
Kevin chuckled. “Well, you know how it is with family. We don’t knock.”
“You’re not family anymore,” my mother chimed in from the sink. “Go back to knocking.”
He didn’t lose his grin, he was accustomed to her callousness with him. “Frances, good to see you.” He gave me a once-over. “Emily, you’re looking nicer than the last time I saw you.”
I looked down at my heels and blouse and snug black pencil skirt, and back up to see Ben’s eyes make the same slow trip.
“I’d say you look really nice,” Ben said, with such emphasis on the words that my face and ears felt as if they caught fire before he made it back to my eyes.
I didn’t know if that’d truly been for my benefit or to piss Kevin off, but he achieved it anyway. Kevin’s jaw tightened as he stepped forward. I threw Ben a look that I hoped said to grow up, as Kevin puffed up and turned to Holly by way of what I suppose was neutral ground.
“I wanted to talk to y’all about the house,” he said, pulling up a stool.
My mother turned, knife still in hand. “There’s no y’all in the equation, Kevin, just me.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing and I noticed Holly’s face kind of came to life to enjoy it, too.
“Well then,” Kevin began, then turned around as if noticing Ben was still there. “Do you mind excusing us for a second?”
Mom tossed the knife in the sink and walked forward wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Ben’s fine right where he is,” she said, bringing what only I knew was the hint of a smile to Ben’s lips as he painted carefully around the corners of an outlet. “He has a reason to be here. Cass isn’t here, so what’s yours?”
Kevin gave her a patient smile anyway. “I want to buy your house.”
“I have a couple that might be interested,” I blurted out, raising my hand like I was in middle school. “I’m gonna show it to them next week.”
Mom ignored me. “I’m not selling to you, Kevin,” she said with a pat on his shoulder and a wink. “You’re Cassidy’s dad and I love you for that, but you aren’t getting my house.”
“You don’t know my bid.”
She shrugged. “Don’t care.”
He tilted his head. “You might.”
“You’re a womanizing prick, Kev,” my mom said, causing my jaw to drop. “No.”
Ben even took the silence of the moment to walk outside. I assumed to have a good laugh. Honestly, in my opinion, what he did wasn’t that much better.
“You know what?” I said, getting up before Kevin had to try to save face. “I’m gonna go upstairs. Maybe go up in the attic.”
“Dressed like that?” Mom asked, already blowing Kevin off.
“I have a pair of sweatpants in the car.”
I went out through the garage, where Ben was leaning over a five-gallon bucket of paint, stirring it with a flat piece of wood. Next to him on a makeshift table were two other small cans of paint with little wooden stir sticks poking out.
“Why do you do that?” I asked.
“What?” he responded, not looking up.
“Bait him like that,” I said, picking my way carefully around the random tools and pieces of discarded wood on the floor. “Is it on purpose, or does he just bring out the twelve-year-old in you?”
I felt, rather than saw the smile. “Little of both, probably.”
“Why?” I repeated as I got closer, my three-inch heels playing hell with all the power cords.
“Because he’s the same condescending asshole now that he was then.”
“And—”
I was about to tell him that I agreed with him and he didn’t need to bait Kevin anymore. But then I remembered that there wouldn’t be a reason anyway since he’d left me and
made all those petty arguments between them go away. The thoughts jumped over each other, distracting me long enough to step on a block of wood that turned under my foot.
“Oh—shi—” I exclaimed as I lurched sideways and the spike of my heel snapped off.
My left hand flailed out for support, met with one of the little stir sticks instead, and flipped it out of the can and across Ben’s face. The paint splattered across his left cheek and nose, and slung streaks into my hair as I continued my sideways direction right into his arms.
“Whoa!” he said as I landed hard against him. “Are you okay?”
I gasped and then looked up just inches from his face, suddenly recalling the last time I was held so tightly against his body. I even was acutely aware of where his hands were and one of them was fairly south. Not that that had been by his choice. But then the sight of the paint across his face and in his eyebrows broke the moment and I clamped my lips shut as the laughter shook me.
“I’m—” I laughed again, trying to stop. “I’m so sorry.”
He let go with one hand to wipe a blob off his nose, and while I tried to stem the funny that just kept bubbling up in me, he smeared it along my cheek.
“Oh!” I said, laughing. “Not cool!”
I looked down at my clothes as he set me back on my feet, but he didn’t back up for more space. Instead he picked a dripping clump of paint from my hair and smiled slowly, while we were still so close I could feel him breathe. His expression was playful and achingly reminiscent of the old days.
“Now you look really good,” he said, slowly backing up and not breaking eye contact with me until he bent to pick up my broken heel.
“Ha-ha,” I said, still chuckling. “Sorry about that.”
He shook his head. “No big deal. Hand me your shoe, I’ll fix it while you’re here.”
I handed it to him and walked lopsided out of the garage as he laughed and did damage repair on himself. The farther away I got, the more my heart constricted and I could feel the chemistry pulling me back. That had been a moment. Like the ones we used to have when we were best friends and thought the same and talked the same and were falling in love and didn’t know it. For that dumb little second in time, there was no tension or secrets or resentment.
Before and Ever Since (9781101612286) Page 9
