Losing Mr. Right

by Natalie Charles

  I considered it while I chewed. Of the two of us, David was the talented one. He did everything better than I did. When I think back on how much work it took me to make my money, I bet David could’ve made more in less time if he’d decided that was what he wanted to do. I thought the world of him. “So what you’re saying is, you wish you’d settled?”

  I hate that I’d said that, in hindsight. I could’ve told him that yeah, that would’ve been cool to be a people walker. I could’ve told him that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to do with his life, that he didn’t have to be a lawyer if he didn’t want to. I had so much money that he could’ve quit his job and I could’ve supported his people-walking dreams for as long as he wanted. I’d missed the chance.

  “I’m joking,” David said. “Sometimes I feel like I have two people in my head, and one of them is always trying to kill me.” He put down his fork and reached for his glass of wine. We were on our second bottle. He laughed, so it didn’t seem so serious, but the words … Jesus. “If I were a people walker, I’d wind up living under a bridge or something. I’d have to leave this.” He waved his arms around his minuscule, half-million-dollar San Francisco condo. “I’m just talking. I’m a lawyer for life.”

  And I told Mindy everything as we walked around the island, circling it twice before stopping back in front of the footbridge. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized she was holding my hand again. “Oh, Brett. I’m so sorry.”

  She snaked her other arm over my shoulder to stroke the back of my neck with her fingertips, jolting me back to the present. I stared at her, feeling my desire for this beautiful, sweet woman build. “I haven’t told anyone all of that before,” I said softly, leaning closer.

  “I’m glad you told me.” Her hand rested on my shoulder, heavy and warm. “So you came here for David.”

  I didn’t know if that was exactly true. I’d come to West Portsmouth for me. I was the one left behind. David wasn’t around anymore. Though that wasn’t true, either. Ghosts follow you.

  “You’re a great brother.” Mindy brought her body closer, wrapping me in warmth. Her hair smelled like apples. I closed my eyes just to feel her and breathe her in. She’s not yours. It was pathetic how much I wanted her when she’d confessed that she was hung up on another guy. Getting involved would be asking for trouble. I stepped back.

  “We should go to your grandmother’s house,” I said. Mindy blinked at me, stunned by the change of subject. “You said you wanted to find the lease, to see if there’s anything you can use to get Vaughan to leave.”

  “Oh, right.” A shadow crossed her face as she looked out across the marsh toward the center of town. “Yes, okay. Let’s go.”

  • • •

  JAI LING’S house was well maintained, aside from the grass being a little long. The front steps were of neatly stacked slate and curved out in a half circle. There was an English garden growing beside a portion of split-rail fence that lined the driveway. It was amazing to think that the petite elderly woman who’d fallen off the ladder had been caring for two properties by herself.

  Mindy cursed quietly and rested her fingers on the lockbox installed beside the door. “I forgot the combo. Wait, I think I know… .”

  A lockbox wasn’t unusual for this area, I’d come to realize. Lots of these properties were rented at some point over the summer. “I’ve never seen such a clean driveway,” I mused as Mindy entered the code.

  “Oh yeah.” Mindy glanced back over her shoulder. “She sweeps it every day.”

  “Your grandmother sweeps the driveway?”

  “She washes it, too. Weekly.” The lockbox opened and Mindy removed a small silver key. “She has one of those long brooms, and she scrubs the asphalt with soap.”

  “Soap? Really?”

  “It’s a little bit passive-aggressive because she doesn’t care for her neighbor. He’s the chair of the Inland Wetlands Commission, so he’s an environmentalist. But Nana says he lets his dog poop in her yard. So, the soap.” She grinned when she saw the look on my face. “Nana doesn’t suffer fools or dirt.”

  “Apparently not.”

  Mindy slid the key into the lock and swung the front door open. The entryway was dark, and then suddenly … “Oh!” Mindy gasped at about the same time I covered my nose and mouth with the back of my arm. “Holy Christmas. What is that?”

  The air coming through the door was hot and heavy and stunk like rotting garbage. “Maybe it’s the trash can,” I said, knowing that this was too simple an explanation for so strong a stench.

  “Oh God. Do you think something died in here?”

  “Did she have a pet?”

  “I don’t think so.” Her hands flew to her cheeks. “But what if she did? What if I was supposed to take care of it? Oh no.” Mindy stepped inside. “What kind of granddaughter am I? I don’t even know if Nana has a pet! And now I’ve killed it—”

  Her voice was tight. I set a hand on her shoulder. “Here, let me go first.”

  She didn’t argue when I slipped past her into the hot mouth of the house. I covered my nose with one hand and flipped the light switch. Mindy groaned. “Oh no.”

  Shredded cereal boxes and rotting bags of frozen vegetables lined the hallway. We followed the garbage into the kitchen, where a broken milk carton was overturned on the linoleum floor beside an egg carton filled with the dried remains of eggs and shells. I kicked aside a rotting apple as I took a step through the doorway. “The back door is open,” I said. “An animal probably got in. Maybe a raccoon.”

  Mindy spun right around. “I’m outta here.”

  “Don’t you want to—”

  “Nope!” She fled to the driveway, where she jumped and shook her hands like she was shaking off a tarantula. “Ew, ew, ew!”

  So she’s not an animal person. But someone needed to take care of this mess.

  I stepped over the trash, looking and listening for signs of a wild animal. Scat, footprints, or scratched walls, maybe a nest … I was no wildlife expert. I just didn’t want to close the back door only to find out that I’d left something running loose inside. But after I did a sweep of the house, I didn’t see anything else out of place. When I was satisfied I was alone, I slid the back door closed.

  “Did you find it?” Mindy called from the front steps. “It could have rabies.”

  “It’s gone.”

  “Do you need help?” She paused. “The smell is awful… .”

  I heard the hesitation in her voice and smiled to myself. “That’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  What a mess. The kitchen floor was covered with torn paper grocery bags. Jai must have gone grocery shopping before she fell. Had she forgotten to put the food away? I picked up the debris and dropped it into a trash bag, breathing through my mouth. Whatever had gotten into the house had taken most of the food, but I winced as some slimy vegetables slipped through my fingers. When the kitchen was mostly clean, I tied up the trash bag and headed outside.

  Mindy was fidgeting with the purple ends of her hair again. “What did it get into?”

  “Looks like she left some groceries out.”

  She shook her head. “Nana would never leave her groceries out. She washes her driveway, Brett. The woman is organized.”

  “That may be true, but someone left the back door open and bags of groceries out.” She tilted her head at me, unconvinced, so I added, “An animal wouldn’t have helped itself to broccoli in the freezer.”

  “I know. But it’s not like Nana. I haven’t been here in a long time, but nothing’s changed. Not since I was a baby.” Mindy smiled. “We used to spend a lot of time up here over the summer. It was the best, being so close to the beach.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “My mom is going to freak out when I tell her about the mess.”

  “Define ‘freak out.’ ”

  “Turn red. Hyperventilate. Cancel her summer.” Mindy folded her arms across her chest. “Did you meet Mom? She’s tightly wound.”
/>   “Yes. She made me drive to your apartment to make sure you weren’t dead, if you recall.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, that’s typical.”

  “Don’t tell her. We’ll clean it up. I already got most of it.”

  But Mindy frowned uncertainly and looked at the house. “It bothers me that Nana would leave her groceries out. And that she would leave the back door open, too.” She closed her eyes and shook her head like she was trying to shake free of her concerns. “I’m sure it’s fine. Just one of those things that comes with age. It’s not like she left the stove on.” She attempted a smile, but it was clear that she was troubled.

  I nodded toward the house. “Do you still want the lease? I promise there are no raccoons in there.”

  My attempt at levity fell flat. “Yes, for sure. I need to find that lease. And I should open some windows to get some fresh air inside, and maybe clean up the floors.” Her forehead furrowed and she looked down at her feet. “I shouldn’t have made you clean all of that up. It’s my grandmother, and I’m supposed to be taking care of things for her while she’s recovering—”

  “Mindy.” I set a hand lightly on the back of her shoulder. “It’s okay that I cleaned up the trash. You’re still a great granddaughter.”

  But she didn’t smile. “I need to do better.” And with that, she led me into the house. Again.

  CHAPTER 9

  MINDY

  THE SMELL IN Nana’s house was wretched, even if Brett had cleaned up most of the trash. I could see that I’d have to wash dried egg off the floor, and maybe even clean the area rug in the living room. The animal had left a trail of milk there, like it was dragging the carton around. Stupid raccoon. Or whatever it was. “If I ever find the raccoon that did this, I will turn it into a pelt with my bare hands.”

  Brett chuckled. “I’d like to see you do that.”

  “Are you suggesting I wouldn’t?” But I laughed a little, too.

  Nana’s house was exactly as I remembered it. The couches were white and spotless, the glass coffee table practically sparkled in the late-morning sunlight, and the hardwood floors gleamed in the areas not occupied by trash. How long had it been since I’d visited Nana in her house? Years, probably. I spent holidays at Mom and Dad’s, and they picked up Nana for those. Looking around the living room, being there again, made my heart hurt. There were so many memories in these walls. Happy ones, with Nana and Grandpa and Michael. We used to play Monopoly in the kitchen. Nana made me be the iron, and when I asked her why, her response was always the same: “You really think you’re a thimble?” A smile broke out across my face.

  Brett swept a finger across the surface of one of the glass end tables. “Clean. Did you come over here to dust, or is your grandmother so neat that she scares the dust away?”

  “One hundred percent the latter.”

  He shook his head. “Incredible.”

  He’s so great. The thought popped quickly into my head, but I didn’t know what to do with it. Yes, Brett was a nice guy. He was pretty hot, too. And reliable and funny and a great listener. Nice guy. But he didn’t even have a real job. Oh my gosh, I could imagine the look on my parents’ faces if I ever brought Brett home. Yes, we’re dating now. What’s that, Dad? Did you ask what he does? He takes walks with tourists. Dad’s an engineer who designed space shuttle parts for NASA. He would literally die.

  A pang of guilt hit me. I shouldn’t be snotty. Brett was grieving, and maybe he made a good income as a people walker. I mean, who knows? I had nothing to compare him to. He wasn’t homeless, so that was good. But he wasn’t Chase. Ambition was so damn sexy. Brett was a nice guy.

  I opened the windows in the living room. Between the trash and the stale, hot air, the house was less than pleasant to be inside. “Come on. I know exactly where she keeps the lease agreement.”

  I led Brett through a hallway lined with family photos. Of course he had to stop and study them. “Wait. Is that you?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” I stopped beside him. “I haven’t looked at these in a while. That’s my nana and my grandpa.” I pointed to a photo of a rather serious-looking couple standing side by side on the beach. “They look angry, don’t they? Like someone kicked sand in their picnic basket.”

  He drew closer to the photo. “You look a lot like your grandmother in that photo. Is that when they owned the inn?”

  “No. That’s a photo of my biological grandfather. He died before I was even born. Then Nana fell in love with him”—I pointed at another photo—“and they bought the inn together. His name was Elliott, but to me and Michael he was ‘Grandpa.’ He was Irish and very charming. Guests assumed Nana was the maid.”

  “And she didn’t take their heads off? I’m impressed.” He stepped closer to examine the photo I’d pointed to. In it, Nana was standing beside a handsome man with a military posture—my grandpa Elliott.

  “She was comfortable setting them straight.”

  The photos made me sad again. Everything about this house made me feel sad, or something like it. Guilty. Nana had kept these photos up for decades, while I’d gone to high school, then to college, then to work. I’d outgrown my own grandmother, but she kept these photos hanging. “Everyone left her,” I said quietly. “Her two husbands, and her grandchildren, and even her son. She’s been all alone.” My throat tightened painfully. I’d let so much time go by.

  “Mindy.” Brett’s face tightened with concern.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m fine. Sorry.” I nodded my head toward the end of the hallway. “The contract should be in the office, back here.”

  We walked into a room that was furnished entirely with neatly stacked boxes and metal filing cabinets. I set my hands on my hips as I surveyed the area. “So much paperwork,” I muttered. “Nana keeps everything.”

  But it didn’t take me long to narrow my search, thanks to my grandmother’s meticulous filing system. The rental documents were in the top drawer of a tall gray filing cabinet. “Got it!” I waved the lease in the air. “Now all we have to do is figure out how to evict Vaughan. There’s probably a clause or something.”

  “Didn’t you help her to rent the inn?”

  I rolled my eyes at that one. “Yes, but do you think I read the rental lease? We had a lawyer for that.”

  I squinted at the tiny type. It figured it would be written in legalese. I ran one pink-polished fingernail down the first page and then flipped to the second. “I know there’s something in here. A clause prohibiting illegal activity, maybe.”

  “Hmm.” Brett was reading over my shoulder. Normally that would’ve earned him an elbow to the chest, but I actually didn’t mind it. He smelled nice, like fresh air and clean laundry. “Is there something else we can use, I wonder? Is she keeping the property in good repair?”

  “Vaughan? Are you kidding? There’s not a thread out of place.” I paused. “Except the grass was a little long, but that was my fault. I’ve been getting settled—”

  “Of course.”

  “I mowed it this morning.”

  I found what I was looking for on page ten of the lease. “Here—eviction for illegal or illicit activity.”

  We read the clause together, which provided that Vaughan could be removed if she was convicted of criminal activity. “That’s not ideal,” Brett said. “Vaughan would have to be convicted of a crime first.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Right. And that’s not going to happen if she’s paying someone in the police department to look the other way and notify her of investigations.”

  Brett tilted his head thoughtfully. “She must be paying someone a lot of money, don’t you think? Must be a lucrative business.”

  “Have you seen the inn?” I gestured a bit too wildly with my hand and nearly threw the lease at the wall. “Business is booming. Who knew there were so many creeps in this town?”

  I spat the word creeps, picturing husbands stepping out on their wives. But Brett apparently didn’t share my anger. He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know a
bout that. Two consenting adults. Or maybe more than two …”

  I froze. “Brett. Come on.”

  “Who’s getting hurt? The girls who work there seem happy, and the guests don’t seem to know any different.”

  I tucked the lease under my arm. “I’m not going to allow my grandparents’ inn to be used in this way.”

  Brett’s eyebrows twitched at that. “Those women have a choice. Vaughan isn’t trafficking.”

  Oh my. How had I missed this insufferable streak? “Don’t tell me. You majored in feminist studies in college?”

  “No, but my mom is a feminist scholar.”

  “Of course she is. Why wouldn’t she be?”

  I get sarcastic when I’m nearing an emotional meltdown, and the sarcasm doesn’t even have to make logical sense. My neck felt hot. This was a betrayal. Brett had said he’d help me and I’d thought that meant we both agreed that running a brothel in the inn was absolutely unacceptable. Brett casually pushed his hands into his pockets. This topic didn’t bother him at all, and it was all I could do to not burst into tears at that fact. “No offense, but you sound like a SWERF,” he said. “A sex worker exclusionary radical feminist.”

  I didn’t even know what that meant, but I’d had about enough of this stinky house and its memories, and of Brett and his feminist bullshit. “How dare you call me a SWERF!” I poked my finger against his sternum. “I’m the one with the vagina!”

  His gaze softened. “Mindy—”

  “Do you know what it’s like to have people in town look at you like you’re the stereotypical Asian whore? Of course you don’t.” My voice rose, but I was good and furious. “A cashier at the general store hit on me. Another one practically ran in the other direction. That cop last night took one look at me and assumed I was for sale. It sucks.” My voice was trembling, so I paused to take a breath. “All of that aside, it’s my grandmother’s inn and she doesn’t want it to be used this way. My family celebrated holidays there. I spent summers there. And I don’t care about sex workers, I don’t. But I want them to take their sex work somewhere else.”