Leaving Carolina

by Tamara Leigh

  Not Trinity Templeton! This is a conspiracy. A pin-Piper-down-and-make-her-squirm conspiracy. And Axel is going to hear about it!

  I push up off the top step, where I was trying to reason with a temperamental television chef before he hung up on me. No sooner do I straighten than Trinity is beside me, shaking my hand so hard my head bobs.

  “I can’t believe you called me. I about pitched a fit when Gran told me you wanted me to clean the Pickwick mansion. And here I was thinkin’ I might have to give up my dream and go back to workin’ for Maid For You. It’s a good thing I don’t have a problem with bladder control, I was that excited. Why, I…” I don’t realize I’m gaping until her lashes touch the expanse beneath her thick eyebrows and she drops my hand. “I mean… that is…” She smoothes her apron, grabs a handful of it, and closes her eyes.

  Oh, dear, what am I in for?

  Her shoulders rise with a breath and lips pucker as she slowly exhales. Five times she does this before her lids pop up like a pull-down blind with a tension problem. “I believe you’ll be pleased with my services and pricing, Ms. Pickwick.”

  I don’t correct the last name for fear of knocking her off kilter, especially considering what it took her to find her kilter.

  She nods at the door. “Shall we?”

  “Let’s.” Lame, Piper. I turn back. “It’s nice to see you again, Trinity.”

  A struggle ensues, and then she’s hugging me, her clipboard digging into my collarbone. “Why, I am full up on happiness. Don’t you dare pinch me.”

  Wouldn’t dream of it.

  14

  Devyn accompanied Maggie to her office in town, and I finally have Axel to myself.

  “Either you’re admiring my physique”—with a ripple of biceps, he lowers the long-handled pruning shears—“or you need to get something off your chest.”

  And here I thought he had only five senses. Though it’s true I was admiring his physique (mostly at a subconscious level) and how effortlessly he shears off branches, I determinedly maintain my you-have-a-lot-to-answer-for stance.

  He turns, peers at me through dark lenses, and winces. “Not my physique.”

  Close call. “It’s about Trinity Templeton.”

  Puzzlement wanders onto his face, but I don’t believe a single crease of it until he lowers his sunglasses and those Blue eyes settle on me.

  Is it possible he’s unaware that Trinity is the one behind the business card he gave me? Or that Uncle Obe wants to add her to his will? “You do know that Cinderella Sanitation is Trinity?”

  He shrugs. “Sure.”

  Ignorant, my foot! “So?”

  “So you asked me to find you a cleaning lady.”

  I toss up my hands. “You should have told me it was Trinity.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?! As I’m sure you know, Uncle Obe intends to add Trinity to his will.”

  Understanding leaves no feature on Axel’s face untouched. “I didn’t know.” He looks earnest.

  “Really?”

  Axel sets the pruning shears aside, and with three hitched strides he closes the distance between us. “Really.”

  Feeling the weight of my head in the nape of my neck, I gaze up at him. “I find that hard to believe. You are his confidant.”

  “I am, but we have an understanding.”

  Has he been chewing spearmint leaves? The scent is slight, but I can almost feel the coarse little leaf on my tongue as when I was young.

  “As I told you before, he talks about his burdens, and I listen. Sometimes I have an idea who he’s talking about, but I don’t ask for names or details.”

  Should I believe him? And where on earth did he get eyes that gorgeous color?

  “As far as advising him, I give my thoughts when asked and back them up with Scripture.”

  I’d like to believe him. Hmm. I hadn’t noticed that gap between his front teeth, but then it’s more like a crack than a gap.

  To my surprise—and embarrassment—Axel’s serious expression falters, and he takes a step back.

  You are so fired, Piper Wick!

  He crosses his arms over his chest in what appears to be a defensive move. To ward off an unwelcome advance? Oh, Lord, I wasn’t advancing on him. Was I? Ridiculous. I was just… admiring his minty breath and got a little sidetracked by those eyes.

  “With regards to Trinity,” he says, “I knew she was struggling with her new business and heard that Bronson and Earla Biggs had hired her, so I stopped to talk to them on the way into town this morning.”

  Be cool. Nod. Look thoughtful There—that flicker in his eyes? He’s thinking he may have misread the situation.

  “They said that, providing you don’t get caught up in a conversation with her, she does a good job.”

  I know all about that. It took two hours to walk her through the rooms I wanted cleaned when it should have taken a half hour. Despite the need to have someone put the house in order, it was all I could do to accept her offer to get started today. But I made a dash for it when she bounded out to her car to retrieve her supplies.

  “I assume you didn’t hire her,” Axel says.

  “Actually, I did. She’s having a go at it as we speak.”

  His arms remain crossed, but his defensive posture eases. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s going to be uncomfortable.” At the realization that I spoke aloud, I tense.

  His head tilts. “She’s here to clean your uncle’s home, not hold him at vacuum-point until he signs his name to the new will. In fact, I doubt she or any of the others he wants to add are aware of his plans.”

  Though relieved by his misinterpretation of my discomfort, I forbid myself to relax. That was too close.

  “Or is it something else? While stories abound of Trinity’s oddities, I have no idea how she was wronged by a Pickwick.”

  Time to go. “Well, I have work to do, and I don’t want to keep you from yours.”

  “But I might take a stab at which Pickwick wronged her.”

  I don’t falter, and when I call over my shoulder, “Thank you for finding me a housekeeper,” there isn’t a tremor in my voice. But I’m sure wobbly on the inside.

  Grant. Right. If I can get hold of him—hear his voice and bask in feelings I know I have for him—I can knock out the dents Axel is putting in me. Easy.

  Except for the getting hold of Grant part.

  “I don’t get it.” I sit near the lower shelves in the pantry and consider the ceiling, which is mostly in shadow due to the little bit of light coming beneath the closed door. “I’m usually so in control.”

  “Um-hmm,” Mom says.

  “So on top of my emotions and image.”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “But I’m losing my grip.”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Mom sighs. “Why, there’s nothin’ wrong with you, Piper.” Her drawl, which has mellowed since we left Pickwick, kicks in on my name. “It’s simply easier to put on a face in a big city, especially when you don’t have time to let people get close to you. Now those people in Pickwick know you, and you know them.”

  “Not all of them.” I catch the sound of Trinity’s humming from beyond the kitchen and lower my voice. “Not Axel Smith.”

  “What did you say?”

  I cup my hand over the mouthpiece. “Axel Smith doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him.”

  “Why are you whisperin’?”

  What would she say if I told her I hired Trinity to clean the mansion and that the only way to keep her from talking me up one side and down the other is to lie low—as in, on the pantry floor? It wouldn’t be difficult to avoid her if she thoroughly cleaned one room before moving on to another, but she’s constantly distracted by a particularly thick patch of dust, large cobwebs, or the husks of hapless spider victims. Always something more in need of cleaning.

  “Sorry,” I say, slightly louder. “Anyway, A
xel is the hardest one to get anything past, and he’s only a notch above a stranger.”

  “And yet he knows you.”

  “He thinks he does.”

  She chuckles. “Sometimes people just click.”

  “We don’t click, Mom.”

  “But you click with Grant?”

  Grant. And, no, I haven’t been able to get hold of him. He’s a busy man. “Grant and I are highly compatible.”

  “Then maybe you should talk to him. As compatible as you two are, he should be able to offer insight into what’s going on and how to handle it.”

  She says it without sarcasm. Not that she needs any, as I have plenty—as in, Right, I’d be happy to share my dilemma in all its Fourth of July glory with my conservative client-slash-boyfriend. When he calls me back. But for twelve years, my mother has remained unaware of what I did that night, and I won’t have her swooning now.

  I clear my throat. “So tell me about—”

  The humming is closer. I ease onto my stomach and look beneath the door. Begrimed ballet slippers. Are they skipping?

  “You still there, Piper?”

  “Mom, I have to go.”

  “You’re whisperin’ again.”

  Both slippers come down, one pivots toward the pantry, and the other follows.

  “I’ll call you later.”

  “All right, but make it after nine my time. Rufus is taking me out again.”

  “I’ll do that.” Turn, slippers, turn! “Bye.” I end the call and press my palms to the floor to lever up—just as the door swings open.

  Trinity’s eyes bulge. “I thought you were a mouse.”

  Cinderella would.

  “Gol, what are you doing in here?”

  I scramble upright and turn my phone toward her. “I needed a quiet place to talk to my mother.”

  She tugs on the kerchief that has slipped sideways. “You’d certainly think that in a home this size, a body could find some place a bit more comfortable.”

  You’d think.

  “And with better lighting. And that doesn’t smell like a mess of pickles. Phew! Someone done broke a jar of somethin’ in here.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Between the smell, grime, and layers of dust—”

  It always comes back to dust. In my case, Pickwick dust.

  “—Cinderella certainly has her job cut out for her.”

  So do I. “I’ll let you get to it.”

  Trinity moves aside but touches my shoulder as I pass. “I want you to know how much I appreciate this job, Piper. You’re God’s answer to my prayers.”

  The sincerity in her eyes makes me pause. No doubt she has been praying about her business, and being hired to clean the mansion has to be a godsend. “I’m glad it worked out for everyone.”

  She smiles, but only for a moment. “I should warn you that when it gets around I’m workin’ for you, people are bound to discourage you. They’ll say I’m not right in the head, my morals are warped, and I’m a shameless hussy.”

  I hope this isn’t what it sounds like.

  “All because I… Well, something they think I did years ago.” She frowns. “Right after you left Pickwick, I believe.”

  Right before…

  “Anyway, I give you my word I didn’t do it.”

  I swallow. “I believe you.”

  Her eyes widen. “You do?”

  “Yes, and I’m sure you will continue to do an outstanding job for my uncle.”

  She gives a little jump of excitement and then turns with a flourish of arms, as if casting magical cleaning dust. “Now I just have to decide if I should finish cleanin’ the baseboards, vacuumin’ the rugs, or polishin’ the wood floors.”

  All works in progress.

  She steps into the hall, but as I start to relax, she pops her head back in. “Of course there’s this ghastly bathroom out here. I’ve cleaned the sink and faucets, but the toilet… I might have to take a razor blade to them nasty mineral deposits. They’re as tight as stalagmites. Or is it stalactites?” She makes a face. “Your uncle should have hired me ages ago. Why, just look at this kitchen. I’ll bet there’s an inch of dust on them cabinets. And no tellin’ what’s in them.” She gives a violent shudder.

  How is it possible she was mistaken for me that night? Of course, it all happened so fast. I got in, stunned, and got out. And left someone else holding the bag.

  “And those windows! I declare, you can hardly see outta them.”

  “Yeah, pretty bad.” And after what she unwittingly revealed, I can hardly see out of my windows—a.k.a. conscience.

  She gasps. “Well, hush my mouth! I’m keepin’ you.”

  “I do need to make some calls.”

  I hold my breath for thirty seconds after she goes from sight, but as I release it, I hear Devyn’s voice. She and her mom are back. “Hi, Trinity. Have you seen Miss Piper?”

  “She’s in the kitchen.”

  “Great! I want to show her the games we’re going to play tonight.”

  Above the sound of her approach, Maggie calls, “Don’t push, honey. She might have other plans.”

  I look to the back door, but as I calculate the chance of making it outside before Devyn corners me, Trinity says, “I found your cousin on the floor of the pantry. Said she was makin’ phone calls, but I don’t know. A bit odd, if you ask me.”

  Odd? It’s not my fault the pantry was my best shot at privacy in a home overrun with magical cleaning dust.

  “Miss Piper!” Devyn appears in the kitchen doorway with an armful of board games. “I had Mom stop by the house to pick up some games.” She halts before me. “You took the bandage off. Is your head feeling better?”

  I touch the tenderness. “It is.”

  She nods. “It doesn’t look so bad. So do you like Cranium?”

  I consider the box that features a cartoon brain. “I’ve never played it.”

  “There’s also Apples to Apples, Scattergories, and Scrabble.”

  “Actually, I’m not much for games.”

  Disappointment transforms her face. “But they’re the perfect way to spend an evening together. And since there are three of us, we can make it a girls’ night.” Her face lights. “I’ve never done that. It’s usually just Mom and me.”

  I knew the feeling at her age. Not that I didn’t have the odd friend—literally and otherwise—but time together outside of school or study was rare. Remembrance makes me ache for Maggie’s polar opposite. “You’ve never had a sleepover?”

  “Oh, I have, and Mom has encouraged me to connect with my peers outside of school.” She sighs. “But I always end up in a corner with a book or outside poking under rocks. Believe me, that doesn’t go over well, no matter how nice the girl is.”

  “And you think a girls’ night will be different with me and your mom?”

  “Absolutely. No talk of guys or clothes or hairstyles”—she hikes up her lip—“or painting each other’s nails. For goodness’ sake, I’m still highly receptive to learning, so why waste time on stuff like that? Now these games are fun, interactive, and educational.”

  I don’t know who I feel sorrier for—the girl I was or the girl she is. Though she’s also the odd girl out, it seems, by choice. On the other hand, I longed to fit in and be accepted. Only failing that did I turn to intellectual pursuits.

  “What do you say, Miss Piper?”

  “All right.”

  “Excellent. I’ll set these out, and you pick the one you want to play first.”

  I start to follow her to the kitchen island, but Maggie’s voice carries. “How is your grandmother, Trinity?”

  That Maggie knows she has one surprises me.

  “She’s fine, thank you. Of course, there are days when she misses her knitting shop somethin’ terrible.”

  The family business that Artemis said Trinity’s grandparents didn’t believe could be entrusted to her after that night. Ugh.

  “It’s unfortunate it closed,” Maggie says.

  �
��Yeah, but they couldn’t keep it open without reliable help, and my grandparents didn’t feel I… Well, I’m a much better cleaning lady, I guess.”

  Could Trinity have kept the shop afloat?

  “Miss Piper, come see!”

  As I cross to the island on legs that feel heavy, Devyn looks up from the boxes laid out in the shape of a pyramid. “So?”

  I tap the Apples to Apples box.

  “Wonderful. It’s not as educational as the others, but it opens the door for discussion and will help us get to know one another better.”

  “I see you talked her into it,” Maggie says.

  We turn as she enters the kitchen.

  Devyn nods. “She’s very receptive.”

  Maggie shifts her focus to me. “I’m glad to hear it. Would you like to ride to Asheville with us to visit Uncle Obe?”

  “Oh yes!” Devyn tugs my arm.

  Reluctance raises its head, but I say, “Sounds like a plan.”

  “If I hadn’t been there when she was born, I probably wouldn’t believe Devyn was mine either.”

  Once more, my face is saying things it shouldn’t, and Maggie has found me out, just as she did this morning when we watched her daughter scrabble in the dirt.

  I look from where Devyn is asleep on the sofa to my cousin as she straightens from tucking a throw around her daughter. Even with so slight a smile and the wee hours fast approaching, she’s a stunner.

  Having spent half the day with her and Devyn, which included the drive to Asheville to visit Uncle Obe, Szechwan takeout, Apples to Apples, and talk of the progress in Pickwick, I feel a connection with my cousin. It’s unsettling but prompts me to be frank when I would normally advise a change of subject. “As I said earlier, she isn’t what I expected.”

  Maggie walks forward and, as we leave the library, says, “Thankfully, hmm?”

  I’m unsettled further by a need to soften the blow she dealt herself. “I didn’t know you well.”