Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 04 - Frozen Assets

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  “The fundraiser?” Mitzy looked around to see if their speaker was headed to the podium. “Nah. I’m going to be out of town.” She smiled again. She was extra glad they had worked out the Christmas plans as it meant she had a conflict for the two-days-before-Christmas fundraising event.

  Roy stared at Mitzy as though he expected her to say more or to remember something. She gave him a vague smile.

  “You have no idea who I am, do you?” he finally said, with a laugh.

  “I am so sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “It happens.” Roy stood up. He was even taller than he had looked sitting down. He wasn’t thin so much as trim, his short-sleeved golf shirt showed off his bulging biceps. Mitzy was glad to see a winter coat draped over his chair. It was freezing outside. “We went to youth group together. About twenty years ago.”

  Mitzy laughed. “Roy! Oh my gosh. I am so sorry. Of course I know you.”

  “You haven’t changed at all—not even your hair style.” Roy rubbed his bald head. “But I guess I have a little.”

  “Actually,” Mitzy said, “you look good, and if I hadn’t been preoccupied I would have known you immediately.”

  “Preoccupied?”

  “It’s my anniversary!”

  “Congrats. The wife and I are going on eleven years ourselves. How long have you been in for?”

  “One. This is the first anniversary.”

  “Ahh, honeymooners. That explains everything.” Roy wandered off to the coffee and donuts.

  Still no sign of the speaker, so Mitzy began searching the new listings for something Bonnie and Dirk might like. Not that she felt comfortable selling to them now. Not with Dirk’s wandering eye.

  Dirk was also a tall, strong, young man. What if… She let her mind wander to absurdities for a moment. What if he had suggested English Cottages because he needed to see Ulrike? What if he needed to see her because he had been the one to pull Arnold to his death?

  She froze over her phone. Weirder things had happened, surely. If Dirk had been behind the death, that would explain his sudden change of plans house-wise and his late night visit to Ulrike, even more so if Ulrike and Dirk had both been behind it.

  Which did Mitzy prefer: a young husband who wasn’t committed to his marriage, or a young husband who was perfectly committed but also happened to be a murderer?

  Roy came back with a coffee cup. “These donuts are… different,” he said. “Ever had them before?”

  Mitzy shook her head.

  “Honeymooning again?” he laughed.

  “Something like that.” Mitzy held out her phone and made an apologetic face. “Have to run.”

  Bonnie worked at a gym in Gresham. Mitzy decided she ought to go see her and chat about the future. It was more important than learning that there really was nothing you could do to speed up a short sale.

  Traffic was nonexistent, so Mitzy found herself hunting for parking in downtown Gresham in a matter of minutes. Bonnie’s gym was a little storefront place on the Main Street strip. The area was small on parking but big on charm. Mitzy parked behind the fro-yo shop.

  The day was cold and wet but not quite cold enough to snow. Just a wet, dismal kind of day. She kicked her way through puddles of slush, looking for the small women-only gym that Bonnie helped manage. Since there wasn’t room in her own house for a treadmill anymore, Mitzy thought perhaps she’d even join it while she was in to talk.

  She spotted the sign ahead and paused. What exactly did she want to say? Was she planning to ask if Dirk or Bonnie knew the English family, or was she planning on telling Bonnie about running into Dirk at the Cottages office? It was hard to decide, and the answer lay in which Mitzy thought was most likely. Was Dirk just a jerk, or was he a killer?

  The gym had exposed brick walls, bamboo floors, and way too much pink inside. Mitzy wasn’t sure if she could work out surrounded by so much pink. She spotted Bonnie at the counter, reading something on her Kindle.

  Mitzy waved from across the room, and then joined her. “Good morning.”

  “Hey.” Bonnie put her book down. She had bags under her eyes. “What’s up?”

  Mitzy chewed on her bottom lip. “I popped over to English Cottages the other night to talk to Ulrike in the office.”

  Bonnie’s bottom lip quivered.

  “And I ran into Dirk there.” Mitzy tilted her head in sympathy.

  “I know. Oh, Mitzy, I’m just sick. He put a deposit down. He put a deposit down on a tiny house without telling me. I tried to buy a pizza for dinner and my card was denied.” Bonnie pressed her fingers to her temple.

  More lies? Mitzy took a step back. Had Ulrike outright lied to Mitzy about the visit from Dirk, or had she just withheld some information? Or had Dirk lied to Bonnie? Of course, if her card hadn’t cleared, then the deposit must be the truth.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Mitzy asked.

  “No. I’m not. I stayed at my parents’ last night.”

  “What did Dirk say about it?”

  “He said I didn’t have to move with him if I didn’t want the house.” Huge tears rolled out of Bonnie’s eyes. “Merry Christmas, right?”

  Mitzy reached across the counter for Bonnie’s hand. She’d have hugged her if the four feet of laminate desk space hadn’t been in the way. “Listen, I’m here for you, whatever you need. If Dirk asks me for any help with this sale, I will turn him down.” The second commission she had abandoned in a week. Good thing business was going well for Alonzo this year.

  Bonnie was in no shape to chat in the middle of the gym and couldn’t take a break, so Mitzy left her. She drove to her office for the first time, and sat alone, staring at her computer screen. So much computer time, so few houses to sell.

  The little chime from her phone pulled Mitzy out of her doldrums. Another text from Alonzo. This time: Proverbs 18:22. To her chagrin, she had to look it up. Alonzo’s new-believer enthusiasm for memorizing the Bible put her own lack of the same to shame.

  The verse put a smile pack on her face. Whoever finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor of Yahweh. There was a time when the confirmed bachelor he used to be wouldn’t have said that. And Arnold… Mitzy shook her head. He seemed to think he could find favor over and over again. She clicked back to her homes search.

  When lunchtime rolled around, Mitzy locked up shop. She considered hopping upstairs to eat with her husband, but he didn’t do well with surprise visits. Instead, she made her way to the little café down the block.

  At the crosswalk, a honking horn grabbed her attention. Bonnie was across the street in a big, safe SUV, looking much warmer than Mitzy felt standing on the sidewalk. Bonnie waved her arms around and honked more. Mitzy exhaled. Better to eat lunch while consoling her client than to eat lunch alone. And maybe Bonnie would be able to answer those nagging questions about how well Dirk knew the English family. Mitzy pointed to the coffee shop. When Bonnie nodded, Mitzy went on and found them a table.

  Mitzy’s coat was damp from the frosty rain, and her nose and cheeks were nearly frozen. She held her hot coffee with extra cream up to her face, letting the steam warm her.

  Bonnie swirled her spoon around her bowl of soup. “I just don’t know what changed. All of a sudden, he’s just a different man.”

  “How much does he know about the English Cottage company?”

  “What do you mean? Is there something awful we need to know about?” Bonnie’s face was already sad, but a hint of fear entered her eyes.

  “No, nothing like that. He just seems very attached to them, like maybe he knew the family or someone on the staff.”

  “Or that blonde girl at the office. I hear what you are saying.” Bonnie took a spoonful of soup, but poured it back into her bowl.

  Was that what she was saying? Potential infidelity was the most reasonable problem, but first, Mitzy had to know Dirk’s connection to Arnold. “But did he know the English family? I know they had two sons…. had Dirk gone to school with them?�
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  “Dirk and I went to school together. No English family there that I know of.”

  “What about sports? Could he have known them in baseball or soccer? I’m just thinking… you know, Todd English died rather young and not that long ago. Maybe Dirk just wants to do this because they had been friends?”

  “I’ve never heard of him. How old was he?”

  “I think he would have been about twenty-six or twenty-seven now.”

  Bonnie shook her head sadly. “Oh, no. Dirk wouldn’t have known him, then. That’s really old.”

  Mitzy stifled a snort. Twenty-six, old.

  “Dirk just turned twenty-one two weeks ago.”

  Children. These two were children. She’d sold houses to twenty-one year olds plenty of times before, but every year that passed made twenty-year olds seem younger and younger.

  “So, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have any emotional attachment to the English Cottage company? He just likes the small houses?”

  “At least he didn’t have before he met that blonde.”

  Mitzy fingered her platinum curls. Other women did seem to hate blondes. Alonzo had been begging her to go natural for most of the last year. She caught a glimpse of her henna covered hand. Natural hair? Henna tattoos? Next thing you know, she’d stop shaving her legs. She didn’t think Alonzo would like that.

  Now, she wanted to let Bonnie know that there might be something to her fear about Dirk’s intentions toward Ulrike, but she wanted to do it in a way that didn’t reveal any of her own conversation with the woman. If Bonnie felt like Mitzy was friends with “that blonde,” it would ruin her credibility with the vulnerable young wife.

  “When I ran into Dirk at the office, I did wonder if he and Ulrike had met sometime before.”

  Bonnie exhaled slowly. “She’s so old.”

  Mitzy nodded. Karina had said that Ulrike was twenty-five. In other words, ancient. “What are you thinking about now?” She had expressed enough concern about Dirk. Dirk was too young to know Arnold’s kids. Bonnie was already well aware there could be an infidelity issue. It was time to pay attention to Bonnie herself.

  “Dirk put a lot of money down—cleared out our checking and our savings. But I’m the one who makes good money.”

  Mitzy winced. Good money as an assistant managing a little gym?

  “When Daddy opened the gym and offered me part ownership, I was doubtful, but it’s doing really well.”

  “Ah, I see.” Relief washed over Mitzy. Bonnie wasn’t delusional after all.

  “Dirk still goes to school part-time. He can’t afford an expensive place like that and school. He needs me, whether he wants to admit it or not.”

  “What are you going to do about his ultimatum?”

  Bonnie shrugged. “He won’t get approved for a mortgage without my help. There’s no way. And Dad set up a profit-sharing savings account in my name to help us save our down payment, but Dirk can’t get at it. So, I plan to do nothing at all about the ultimatum.”

  “And what will you do about your marriage?” As far as Mitzy could tell, Dirk had gotten a good thing when he had married Bonnie, but he was young and apparently immature. Bonnie’s security was coming from her daddy, and if Mitzy had to guess, Dirk was very threatened by that. Earlier in the day, she had felt a twinge of jealousy that Roy had had all of those years with his wife while she and Alonzo were just starting out, but watching Dirk and Bonnie struggle to grow up together made her thankful. Not that any marriage was easy, but she’d take her struggles over the ones the very young Bonnie was facing.

  “Dirk and I have been together since we were sophomores in high school. It’ll work out.” Her eyebrows were lifted ever so slightly, like she needed Mitzy to agree with her.

  Mitzy nodded, but didn’t verbally agree. She hoped the marriage would work out. And she’d pray it would, too. “Would he consider marriage counseling?”

  “He might.” This time, Bonnie actually swallowed some soup.

  “If you need an idea of where to go, my church has good counselors.” She scribbled the web address on the back of her business card.

  “Thank you.” Bonnie took the card. “What do you think I should do next… about the house… and stuff?”

  Mitzy rubbed her lips together. “I like your idea of inaction. Do nothing about the house but wait and pray. And for the relationship, look at the website, talk to some counselors. Even if Dirk won’t go with you, you should do it.”

  “Okay.” Bonnie sniffled. “But… you’ll still send me house emails, right?” Her eyes were full of fear and insecurity.

  “Yes, of course. This will get sorted out, and in the meantime, I’ll be sending you information. But, I will limit them to things I think you will both like. Does that sound good?” She wished Joan would play along with the modern ranch redo. Seeing the drawings might help Bonnie and Dirk see that their life visions weren’t that far apart.

  14

  Mitzy went home a little earlier than usual. She had a hot date to get ready for, after all.

  Standing in front of her full-length mirror, it was impossible to ignore her henna-decorated arm. She curled her lip in disgust. No slinky black dresses for her tonight. Of course, for all she knew, Al was taking her to see the Christmas boats or the Zoo Lights, and she’d freeze to death in anything without wool sleeves.

  Ugh. The thought repulsed her. She pulled off her work clothes and got into a tank and shorts she liked to wear to bed. She would not go out on her first anniversary with the crazy hippy art up to her elbow.

  She went to the kitchen and mixed up a lemon juice and sugar paste. Lemon was supposed to lighten skin and sugar was always in recipes for natural scrubs. It might work. She rubbed the lemon sugar all over her arm. Then she licked her finger. Not bad.

  The scrub felt good, so she thought she might as well do both arms. She mixed up a bigger batch of sugar and did her other arm and then her neck and chest. She licked her fingertips again. Definitely delicious. She hoped they would go out somewhere that had a lemon dessert on the menu.

  She seemed to have plenty of lemon juice on hand, so she mixed up a bit more and covered her legs in the sugar paste, too. She’d be as smooth as a baby tonight, which might make up for the ugly arm art, even if it didn’t remove it. The kitchen floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to have a scrub, so she and her bowl full of sugar paste went to the bathroom.

  The bathroom.

  The only bathroom. One of the many reasons she had begged her husband for a new house those few weeks back. But at least it was a nice bathroom. Claw-foot tub, granite counter, slate floor. The beautiful custom work of a builder who had access to construction surplus just when he discovered his own bathroom was full of carpenter ants.

  Mitzy checked her watch. It was only five. She had enough time for a long, hot soak before she expected to see her husband.

  She turned the water on and lit a few candles. Her Kindle was in the hall, so while the bathtub filled up with steaming hot water, she went out and grabbed it. Her lemon sugar paste was beginning to flake off, but it looked like her henna was unchanged.

  Mitzy stretched out on the fuzzy rug in her bathroom and applied more sugar and lemon to her arm. The steamy room, the sweet paste, the candlelight. She wished Alonzo would come home early.

  And then he did.

  She heard the door creak open, followed by his familiar footsteps. “Mitzy?”

  “In here.” Her heart thumped in anticipation. She tried to pull her tank top off without sending sugar flying all over the bathroom.

  “What’s all over the floor in here?” Alonzo called.

  “Come find out.” Mitzy giggled. It was so rare in life that your secret wish comes true. And so rare for the two of them to run into an early night or a spare afternoon with nothing to do but romance each other.

  “Just a second, I’m on the phone.”

  Mitzy managed to get her shorts off, but left the tank on so that she wouldn’t disturb the
lemon juice stuff on her arm. That was good enough for now. She rubbed more sugar on her upper thighs. Not that they ever saw the sun, but she thought Alonzo might like the extra… effort.

  She rinsed her hands in the hot bathtub water and then ran them through her hair. Where was he?

  While she waited, she folded her shorts and set them outside the bathroom. She hoped he’d catch a glimpse of her in her anniversary underpants, but he wasn’t anywhere she could see.

  She leaned on the edge of the bathtub and let one sugary hand trail in the water. The nice thing about a claw-foot tub was that there was room for two. Or there was supposed to be. She was excited to find out if it was true.

  She tried one foot on the edge of the tub, the other on the ground. The bad thing about a claw-foot tub was that the edges were so narrow. Her foot slipped into the water.

  She straightened up a little, one foot on the edge of the tub, one in the water. That could work.

  He was sure on a long phone call.

  The bathroom door popped open and a cold whoosh of air hit her. Her other foot, and then her bottom, slipped into the tub with a splash.

  “Why are you wearing your clothes in the tub?” Alonzo asked, his eyes fixed on her tank-top-covered torso. He looked at his phone again. “I’ll be back in two hours.” He shut the door.

  Mitzy slapped her hands on the water’s surface. The bath, which had seemed so inviting moments before, had lost its interest.

  The sugar had dissolved on contact, and her arm was every bit as covered in red-brown, swirly fertility symbols as it ever had been.

  She slipped down until the water was at her chin. Why was she in the bathtub in her clothes indeed?

  Finishing her bath and dressing for her date in a short leather skirt, knee-high boots, and a silky blouse that managed to hide most of her henna without making her feel bundled up, managed to use up most of her two hours. The pile of clothes on the bed was a loud testimony that the job hadn’t been easy. She did her makeup and washed her face and did it again almost as many times as she changed her clothes. Whether it was the casual and quick nature of their wedding or the failed attempt to seduce him earlier, Mitzy wasn’t sure, but she was determined to be perfect for their date, whatever it happened to be.