I gave her a kiss, said goodbye, and moved toward the front door, wishing I could stay with her rather than face the task ahead.
As I stepped out into the parking lot, I heard, “Hey, Cleo, hold up a minute,” from a man behind me. I turned around to see Derrick Townes dressed like he’d come straight from the tennis court.
I didn’t feel like talking to him, especially given how unpleasant our last interaction had been. But he bounded over and stood in front of me looking as friendly and eager as a puppy dog. “Good to see you, Cleo,” he said. A warm fuzzy smile spread over his face.
This guy has as many moods as a summer afternoon in the mountains, I thought to myself. And he goes from sunny to stormy and back with as little warning. I was wary and ready to shake him off.
But he was at least as persistent as his daughter, Lacey. He stood blocking the door to my car, talking to me like I was an old friend. “Bet you’re not any happier with what’s going on here than I am. This closing down thing is a huge mess.” He shook his head and frowned slightly, then went on. “I had an early match in the tennis tournament this morning and then I came over to see Dad. I don’t know what to do. He refuses to even talk about moving.”
I decided a few minutes of polite conversation might be worth my time. Maybe he’d decide I wasn’t as evil as Judith made me out to be. “So your father likes living here?” I asked.
“He didn’t at first—after his stroke. Said he’d rather die than live in a nursing home. But he couldn’t manage on his own and we couldn’t take care of him. It takes two people to get him in and out of his wheelchair. The hospital social workers talked him into giving Shady Terrace a try and now that he’s used to it, he likes it here pretty well. He doesn’t want to think about any other places—says he’ll just stay and let them tear the building down around him.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Not sure. Have you found any good places for your grandmother?”
“No. I’m just off to check out some more of the places on Tim’s list,” I said, hoping that now that I’d talked politely with him about his father, he’d back off and let me leave.
“Could I buy you a quick cup of coffee first?” he asked with another engaging grin. “I’d like to apologize for Judith’s contrariness the other day. I was embarrassed. She gets carried away sometimes, doesn’t realize how it comes across. Anyway I’d love to compare notes on this nursing home mess. Two heads are better than one and all that.”
The idea of talking to someone who was in the same boat as I was with the nursing home search was appealing and I was curious about what he’d say about Judith, so I decided to join him. “Okay. How about Caffé Soleil over at Table Mesa? It’s on my way and there’s easy parking.”
He agreed enthusiastically, so we drove off and met a few minutes later at the coffee place. Once we had our lattes and were settled at a table on the sunny outdoor patio, I pulled out the booklet Tim had given us at the meeting. “I’ve only seen a couple of the places on this list,” I said. “Have you visited any of them?”
Derrick looked troubled. “Like I said, Dad doesn’t want to move. I’ve been hoping we could derail this sale. Hugh Symes is rich, but he doesn’t have a lot of friends in this town. You probably heard about the prairie-dog flap he got into with Mirabel. I think she had him by the short hairs on that one, but since she died her group has dropped the ball on it. I thought I could get his attention by threatening to revive that case and to rat him out on some other underhanded deals I know about, but he’s not budging.”
“So you actually threatened Symes, hoping you could get him to keep Shady Terrace open?”
“Damn right I threatened him. My father is on Medicaid and Symes is basically turning him out into the street. Dad has no money. He has to go wherever we can find an open Medicaid bed.”
Given what Elisa and Jack had said about Derrick’s finances, I figured he couldn’t help his father pay for a nursing home. I could see why he was upset about the closing, but I thought his idea of derailing the sale was a lost cause. “From what Tim said, it sounds like the sale is a done deal,” I said. “And we need to find new places before they all get filled up.”
“Tim Grosso!” Derrick exclaimed angrily, nearly upsetting his cup. “I wouldn’t trust anything that guy says. For all we know, Hugh may be paying him off.”
I was getting used to Derrick’s mood swings, but I was taken aback at the intensity of his attack on Tim. “Why would you say that?” I asked, then sipped my coffee and waited for his reply. When he didn’t respond, I prodded him. “Tim’s the chair of the Psych Department at the university and he does this nursing home thing as a volunteer.”
Derrick looked around to see who was sitting within listening distance, then said quietly, “Tim and Mirabel were close until they had some kind of falling out last year. They worked on causes, went hiking, hung out smoking pot. I’m pretty sure he was encouraging her to leave me. The more time she spent with him, the more she talked about a divorce.”
Whoa. Tim and Mirabel smoked pot together? Apparently Pablo was right about him. I also remembered what Elisa and Jack had said about Derrick staying with Mirabel because he needed her money. If Tim had been pushing Mirabel in the direction of divorce, I could see why Derrick would dislike him.
“It sounds like you didn’t want a divorce,” I said, wondering why he’d been having an affair with Judith if he wanted to preserve his marriage.
He leaned closer to me, a move I assumed was designed to keep the conversation private between us. For a moment I was distracted by the animal magnetism of this attractive man, his deep blue eyes meeting mine in an intimate gaze, but I shook off the feeling as he continued his story. “We hadn’t had an intimate relationship for years,” he said quietly. “But Mirabel was the mother of my children and we’d been together a long time. I wanted her to be different, but I didn’t want to leave her. She didn’t want us to split up either. We’d reached an agreement. She would stay with me and get out of the Church of Scientology, if I would give up Judith.”
Yikes. Was this guy one of those good-looking athletic types who follows his impulses until he gets in trouble and then says whatever he needs to say to charm his way out? Had he really been planning to break up with Judith or had he just been playing along to get Scientology out of the picture? Did he and Judith think Mirabel had believed him and made the new will leaving all her money to him and his children? Did they bump Mirabel off like Angelica suspects so he could inherit the money and then be together after all?
I was carefully keeping my inscrutable therapist expression as this stuff was racing through my mind, but I needed to change my focus before I lost control and showed my alarm. I drew back away from him and said the first thing that popped into my mind. “You and Judith were breaking up?”
“I was about to tell Judith it was over the week that Mirabel died. Now there’s no reason why Judith needs to know I had promised Mirabel I would leave her.”
Why would he share such a cold self-serving thought with me? The only reason I could think of was that my original idea was true—that he and Judith had plotted together for him to deceive Mirabel—that he had never intended to break up with Judith, but he wanted Mirabel to believe he had. Now for some reason he wanted me to believe the lies he’d told Mirabel.
“Here’s the thing,” he said slowly, putting down his cup and turning his full gaze on me again. “Mirabel told me she’d kept her promise and made a new will that left out the Scientologists. But I can’t find it. Her father, Vernon, handled all her legal stuff and he says he never drew up a new will for her. I think she did change the will, but I can’t prove it. So I need you to contact her spirit or whatever Lacey says you can do and ask her where the will is. If you really want to help Lacey and Angelica, help me find that will so the Scientologists don’t get money that belongs in our family.”
Good grief. He thinks my Contact Project is like sending email questions to the
dead. I didn’t feel like explaining the whole process to him there and then, especially since it was Lacey who was my client, not him. So I gave the simplest answer. “I can’t do that for you. I don’t contact spirits for families. I help them do it.”
“It would be much better for you to do it,” he said. “I’ll pay double what you usually charge if you can find out where the will is.”
Now that it was obvious why he’d brought me there, I’d had enough. I stood up, collected my stuff, and said, “You have no idea what the Contact Project is. Now I need to go visit nursing homes.”
Then before he had time to say another word, I turned and walked to my car.
Chapter 19
I visited another two disappointing nursing homes that Saturday afternoon. Afterwards to get my mind off the bad odors and dreary buildings, I went to my office to put some finishing touches on a presentation I was scheduled to give at a psychology conference in Denver the next week. I was excited about having gotten my paper accepted to this prestigious conference, and I wanted my presentation to be excellent. After I’d spent an hour tinkering with my Power Point slides, I took a break to check my email.
I noticed one with ‘last minute conference changes” in the subject line, so I opened it first to see if I’d need to make any changes in my presentation. The words hit me like a ton of snow rumbling down a mountainside to smother an unsuspecting skier. I gasped for breath as I re-read the miserable message. “We regret that last-minute scheduling changes require us to cancel your presentation. Blah…blah…blah. Please consider submitting it for consideration at next year’s conference. Blah…blah…blah.”
Could they do this? Cancel me at the last minute? Did they have any idea how much time I’d spent preparing my presentation? Did they care? I grabbed my cell phone and called the number for the conference organizer. Of course I got voice mail. I left a message asking someone to call me about the email. Then I called Elisa’s cell.
“Ouch! That’s a kick in the gut,” she said after I read her the email and asked my questions. “I’m SO sorry. I know how much this meant to you. But they can do it, Cleo. It’s their conference. I haven’t heard of it happening with that conference before, though. I wonder what happened.”
“I guess they got a last-minute paper from someone they think is more impressive than I am,” I said sadly.
“Maybe they didn’t get enough conference registrations to hold all the sessions,” Elisa said slowly. “Or maybe Judith Demar had a hand in this. She has a lot of connections in the academic community. Remember I told you she’s a dangerous enemy.”
“Seriously? You think she’d go that far? And what good would it do her if I don’t know she did it? If she’s trying to intimidate me, I need to know she got my paper removed so I know what she’s capable of.”
“Perhaps she’ll find a way to let you know. Let’s talk more about it later. I need to go now. I’m driving on Broadway and I have to get around a couple of busses.”
I hung up, closed down my computer, locked up my office and went home to shower and change for the evening. Pablo was getting back from his Atlanta crisis-intervention training course in the late afternoon and we had plans to go to a party that evening at the home of some artist friends from the old days.
As I showered, I thought about how much I was looking forward to seeing Pablo, spending some time together, sharing all that had happened while he was away. His training schedule had been so intense that we’d only been able to connect for a couple of brief phone calls during the week. I had a lot to tell him. He didn’t know about my meetings with Lacey, Angelica and Shane, not to mention Derrick and Judith, or Vernon and Glenna. But there was no way we’d have time to talk about all that before the party. I knew it would take a while to explain how I’d gotten so quickly involved in a situation he’d warned me away from.
I put on my favorite pair of sexy Joe’s jeans—the ones that fit me like a second skin. After trying a few tops, I settled on a black lacey tank with a coral silk shirt over it. I wanted to look good, especially since I had to give Pablo news he didn’t want to hear. I was just finishing styling my hair when Pablo showed up looking so scrumptious that I instantly threw myself at him for a huge hug. His powerful arms enfolded me and I smooshed myself into his solid muscular shoulders. So much tension oozed out of me that I felt ten pounds lighter.
“I’m glad to see you too,” Pablo said tenderly, tipping up my head for a soft sweet kiss. I almost suggested we skip the party altogether. But before I could, Pablo read my thoughts, met my eyes and said, “You look great, but let’s go to the party first. It will be fun to see Mel and Jerri and everyone. We can leave early and come back here.”
Mel and Jerri were a couple when we were all in college studying art. They got married not long after and had a couple of kids who must be about eight and ten now. Jerri has done well as an illustrator and Mel started a greeting-card company that ended up being bought out for millions. They are the big success story of our class. I don’t see them much anymore except at occasional gatherings of old friends, and it’s always fun to catch up.
I love their house. It’s an old Victorian near downtown. They spent a whole lot of time and money remodeling it, carefully keeping its historic character, while adding modern finishes like a state-of-the-art gourmet kitchen and luxurious bathrooms. The restored original woodwork, hardwood floors, and crown molding give it an old-world charm that makes me feel like I’ve been transported back to a more gracious genteel time.
The living room was bursting at the seams by the time Pablo and I found parking and got to the house. We waded into the throng, grabbed a couple of glasses of wine, shared hugs and laughs with old friends, and soaked up the festive ambiance as we drifted here and there. After an hour or so had gone by, he was across the room and I was deep in conversation with Celine—a friend I hadn’t seen for years because she had gotten married and moved to Seattle. She and her husband had only recently moved back to Boulder where she was managing a Vitamin Cottage store. “Maybe I should come in and get something to help me with all the stress I’ve been under lately,” I said. “But I never know which supplements to choose.”
“We have the perfect solution for you, Cleo,” she said enthusiastically. “Pamphlets with questionnaires you fill out about how you’re feeling and then after you add up your answers you can see what vitamins and supplements you need to take to feel better.”
Suddenly a man behind me put his hand on my shoulder and interrupted us. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said. “And I have to tell you, Cleo, that vitamins and supplements aren’t what you need to relieve stress.”
I whipped my head around to see who was calling me by name and giving me advice, and was surprised to see my ex-boyfriend Brian. Amazing! He’d been here a year and I’d never seen him at all. Now twice in one week, I run into him. What are the odds?
I felt flustered and a bit taken aback. “Brian! What a surprise running into you again,” I said. “This is my friend Celine. She’s a manager at Vitamin Cottage. So what do you have against vitamins?”
“Pills aren’t the answer to people’s problems,” he said emphatically. “They’re not going to help you and they may make you worse. And relying on medication keeps you from finding permanent solutions to your issues.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to call vitamins and supplements medication,” Celine said. “Our products are all natural and our approach is holistic…”
“That’s not the point,” Brian interrupted. “Stress and pain are caused by a reactive mind. You need to get free from your reactivity and learn to understand yourself and your life if you want to be happy.”
Celine didn’t reply to him. Just made a quick getaway, saying she had to catch up with her husband across the room.
Brian stayed put, his hand still firmly on my shoulder. “Cleo, your survival is important to me. I’ve found the way to flourish and prosper and I want to share what I’ve learned with y
ou. I owe you that to make up for the way I behaved when we were together. You’ll be so much happier after you learn the truth about how we can solve our own problems.”
I’d heard enough. First he butted into my private conversation and now he was telling me what I needed to do to be happy? I pulled away from his grasp and looked him straight in the face. “Wait a minute, Brian. Since I saw you last I’ve gotten my doctorate in psychology and I’m a licensed therapist, so I don’t think I need a Scientologist giving me advice about my mental health.”
He moved closer. His familiar smell washed over me, bringing back sexual memories of our time together. I was feeling a little lightheaded. “What do you know about Scientology?” he asked. Have you read Dianetics? Anyone who has not read Dianetics remains ignorant of the most important breakthroughs on the subject of the human mind.”
I stepped back, regrouped and took a minute to decide how I wanted to answer. I considered just making an excuse to get away from him, but I wanted to find out more about his involvement with Mirabel Townes. So I bypassed his questions and said, “I didn’t know you were a Scientologist until we ran into you at the gallery the other day. After you left, Faye said something about you being a Scientology friend of the former gallery co-owner Mirabel Townes.”
“Poor Mirabel,” he said quietly. “Drowning like that in her own backyard. So sad. She was a person of good will who worked hard to take care of the planet.”
“I know she was a Scientologist, too. Did you know her well?” I asked, hoping he’d spill some secret info about Mirabel’s position in the Scientology community. I was looking for a clue as to whether she had become disenchanted with them and possibly written them out of her will like Derrick said she did.
But instead of taking the bait, he pushed back. “How did you know Mirabel?”
I took a few sips of my wine while I pondered my reply. How to say enough to keep him talking about Mirabel without telling him too much about my involvement with the Townes family?
Too Far Under Page 13
