by Julie Hyzy
“I recognize this,” Annie said, as she moved into the room, forgetting her initial reticence. A still-life bore the brass-plated title, Goldenrod. Resisting the urge to touch the frame, she pointed instead. “This is either an original Fred Holly, or it’s one heck of a reproduction.”
“Hey,” Gary said, moving behind the desk to the table under the window, “that guy Timothy, what is he anyway? A bodyguard or something?”
“He’s their driver,” Annie answered without looking at him, moving farther down the wall to examine the next painting. “Must be nice, huh?”
“Yeah, well I saw him carrying some kinda package like this yesterday. Looked to me like he was pretty protective of it.”
Annie looked up to see Gary lifting a crinkling sheet of brown mailing paper sporting long creases, suggesting it had been used to wrap something a little bigger than a shirt box. “Don’t touch anything.”
“Don’t matter. Whatever was in here is gone now.” Gary dropped the paper with a frown, looking around the room.
A rumbling mechanical sound beneath their feet let them know that the home’s garage door was opening. “Let’s go,” Annie said.
* * * * *
They worked without talking the entire time Richard DeChristopher was home. Annie, thinking about the creaky floors in her own house, realized how fortunate she was that the DeChristopher residence was so new. It would be disastrous for him to find Gary working here, in his home, with his client. With a minimum of stealth, she and Gary were able to move about in relative silence. Annie tried to focus on some of the new sections she hadn’t drawn in yet, but her heart wasn’t in the job today.
Kneading her eraser again, she lifted it to the wall and gently rubbed away the beginnings of a pterodactyl beak she’d just drawn. Since it was Friday, she wouldn’t be working at Millie’s tonight. Taking a step back, she looked at the wall again. The birdlike reptile’s head seemed misshapen all of a sudden. She erased that too.
Too much on her mind today.
With a deep breath, she began again. The pterodactyl would have to cooperate.
Wiping pencil smudges off her hands, she stood back again, thinking about her situation. She had difficulty referring to Mr. DeChristopher as Richard, even though he’d specifically requested she do so. Moving back to paint in the eyeball of the very brachiosaurus he’d stopped to admire the other day, she wondered how he’d react if he discovered them up here.
He stayed less than fifteen minutes, talking on the phone in the upstairs study. For such a big home, Annie would have thought it harder to hear conversations from one level to the next, but perhaps due to the utter silence of the house, she was able to make out most of what he said. The sounds drifted up the staircases, and Richard DeChristopher didn’t seem to be working overly hard to keep his voice down.
“Yes,” she heard him say, “it’s here. Arrived yesterday . . . In perfect condition.”
Deferential tone. Must be the boss/client person he was talking to the other day. A combination of frustration and tension made her grip her pencil so tight that her finger knuckles were white. Annie tried to ignore the one-sided conversation, but her mind was putting a scenario together, yet again.
Gary sidled close and whispered in her ear, “Arrived yesterday? I bet he’s talking about that package I saw the driver . . .”
The downstairs voice continued.
“No. It’s quite safe. No need for concern.” They heard a few indistinct sounds. Then, “I’ve pulled it out from the wall safe. I’m looking at it right now. And let me assure you that, even in my humble estimation, this piece is magnificent. It will make a stunning addition to your collection.”
She looked at Gary. “Get back to work.”
They both stopped at DeChristopher’s next words.
“Yes, I’ve heard the ten-million-dollar figure myself. But, I’ll be willing to part with it for half that.”
Annie moved, as if to speak again.
Gary held a finger up, silencing her. Then mouthed the words: “Ten million dollars?”
She heard Mr. DeChristopher’s resigned tone, “I understand that, of course.”
Gary, attentive to the conversation, had stopped painting and leaned out the open doorway, holding the paint roller aloft. Annie caught his eye and gestured toward the ceiling in silent exclamation. She didn’t like the way her hand shook while she pointed.
The rest of his exchange consisted of a series of monosyllabic responses. Moments later, he said, “I don’t want to chance taking it out again. Too great a risk.” He paused for a few moments. “Not tonight at any rate. I’m attending the annual Citizenship Award dinner at the Bar Association.” Chuckling, he added, “No, as Guest of Honor.” A few seconds passed before he spoke again. “Would you be able to? Then yes, of course. It will be no problem. I’ll have them set places for another guest. Do you have the address?”
Silence hung in the air after the receiver hit the phone with a solid click. Annie, hearing the blood pounding in her ears, abruptly stopped moving, as though he’d be able to hear her breathe. She took a cautious glance over to Gary, who had stopped moving as well. They looked at each other and Annie saw Gary’s eyes widen in a look that said, “I can’t believe I’m behaving like this.”
All of a sudden she wanted to laugh. Kind of like she sometimes felt at a wake when something humorous happened. While a situation might be funny, in the context of the somber situation, it took on hilarious proportions. She could feel a little giggle working its way up her chest and knew that if she didn’t fight it, she’d lose it right there. Without putting words to it, she understood that her having overheard one of Mr. DeChristopher’s conversations could be excused, but that if he caught her up here right now, after this second eavesdropping incident, she’d be kicked out on her ear in a heartbeat.
Mr. DeChristopher whistled as he headed back to the garage. Moments later the garage door rumbled again, and Annie chanced a look out the front window to see him pulling away in his silver Jaguar. When his car turned the far corner, she let out her breath and turned her attention back to the room.
The black painted ceiling was nearly done. With any luck, Gary could have it finished today.
Annie stretched, pushing her arms out to her sides. “Well. Wasn’t that fun?”
“Wonder what he was talking about.”
“Who knows?” she said, then looked at her watch. “We’re probably better off not knowing. Next time he comes in when we’re here, I say we make lots of noise and say hello right away. I don’t think I can take that kind of pressure again.”
“Yeah,” Gary said, but he sounded as if he hadn’t heard her.
“I’m going to run downstairs and grab a bottle of water before he decides to come back. You want anything?”
“No, thanks.” Gary moved to reload his roller as Annie headed to the door. “Hey wait.”
She turned.
“Let me go get it, okay? You shouldn’t be taking so many trips up and down the stairs. And five minutes after you drink the water, you’re going to need to run downstairs again anyway. Save you a trip.”
Annie turned back to the foliage she’d drawn on the west wall and tried to crack her back in another stretch. “Sounds good to me.”
As her hand moved in bold lines over the wall, adding details, she shook her head. This was exactly what she didn’t want to have happen. To have an amicable divorce was one thing. This kind of togetherness, and Gary’s living with her was another. Pete along as part of the bargain was beyond tolerable.
Glancing up, she hedged. The ceiling, nearly complete, looked great. It was a big help to have that part of the project finished. Adding the stars and extras later wouldn’t be so bad now that the background was in. And Gary had done a nice job.
But still.
After her fourth erasure of the diplodocus’ small head, Annie mumbled a gripe and stamped her foot. Nothing she did felt good today. DeChristopher skulking around downstairs had dis
tracted her for a few minutes, but she couldn’t shake a feeling of disquiet. She’d left Sam’s last night in a funk. A far cry from the evening she’d come home singing.
Yesterday, she’d mentioned Gary’s involvement on the DeChristophers’ project. She’d expected Sam to react by cautioning her against letting Gary back into her life. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t said a word. Later that evening, when she was ready to leave, she’d stopped in his office to talk, as was their habit of late. He looked up at her and smiled, but something was missing. His eyes weren’t in on it.
“What’s wrong?” she’d asked.
“Nothing.”
Every other time they’d talked, he’d been engaged in the conversation. They’d been in sync, even when they’d discussed things that were hard to talk about, and heaven knew they had plenty of that between them. But tonight the Sam she thought she knew wasn’t there.
Annie had gravitated toward one of the chairs in a half-move, her fingers grazing its back, anticipating an invitation to sit.
It didn’t come.
Forearms resting on the desktop, he maintained a cool, pleasant look on his face. Sliding a pen from hand to hand, he was otherwise still, his eyes unreadable. Fighting the instinct to reach out and touch him, to grasp his hand and ask him to talk, she instead gathered up her supplies as quickly as she could, waving as she left. He’d raised his chin in reply and bent back to work.
Annie knew that last night’s interactions kept her from being creative today. Sam’s behavior weighed on her. Like a stone in her stomach, she couldn’t ignore it, yet couldn’t make it go away until she saw him again. Maybe not even then.
Every creative bone in her body had dried up. It hurt. Sitting down, resting her back against the wall, she tapped her pencil on the side of her hand, trying to decide what to do.
Visit Sam.
She sat up.
It came to her so suddenly that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Just because she wasn’t scheduled to work there tonight didn’t mean she couldn’t go there for a hot fudge sundae. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she considered the idea. If she showed up there unannounced, just to visit, then he’d have to know that she liked him, right? Leaning back again, she looked up and rubbed her eyes. It was like being a teenager all over again. This was ludicrous. Why didn’t she just walk up to Sam and tell him how she felt?
Because she was married, that’s why.
Annie sighed. The sooner Gary was out of her life, the better, as far as she was concerned. But today while they’d been working, she’d mentioned the divorce again. He’d changed the subject. A second time he’d walked away, her calling after him, “We’re going to have to talk about this sooner or later.”
Where was he? She looked at her watch, but couldn’t remember how long it had been since he went downstairs. It felt like a long time.
Standing at the doorway, she called, “Gary?”
No answer.
She tried again.
With a sigh of frustration, she put down her pencil and called down to him as she went down both sets of stairs to the kitchen. “Gary?”
He wasn’t anywhere. Puzzled, she looked at the burglar alarm. It was still reset, so he couldn’t have left. “Where are you?”
Her hand on the banister, she moved halfway up the first set of stairs, looking from side to side, up and down. Berating herself for letting him wander alone, she hissed her anger, then called his name, louder this time.
When he stuck his head out of the upstairs den, she jumped, irritated. “What were you doing in there?”
His face strove for innocence. “I went to the bathroom, that’s what took so long. And on the way back up, I just thought I’d take a quick look in here again.”
She glared at him. “My God. You didn’t touch anything, did you?”
“No, no. I swear,” he said. Rather than indignation, his face registered shock at the question and somehow she knew he was telling the truth.
“You know what Gary? I think we’re about done for the day.”
“Hang on just a minute, Annie,” he said, gesturing with his fingers. “C’mere, I want to show you something and ask you a question about it.”
Clenching her teeth, Annie felt the tension build as it worked through to every extremity. Bright lights of anger exploded in her head and she had to wait till they passed to answer him. “Get out of there, now.”
Gary looked as though he wanted to say something, then thought better of it.
Annie continued. “It was bad enough we looked in there earlier, but I’m not about to go snooping around in my client’s home. And you know what?” she asked, her voice rising. “Neither are you. I told you. Get out. Now.”
Gary started to move out the door, but cast a longing glance backward. “Listen, Annie, there’s something in here I think you might want to see.”
Standing with her arms folded at the bottom of the stairs, she tapped her foot on the cool marble, trying to keep the angry trembles from taking over. Gary shook his head as he started toward the stairs.
“Grab my backpack before you come down,” she said, trying to inject some power into her voice. She could feel a shiver working its way through her body, and pulled her arms in tighter. Gary wandering around the DeChristophers’ home made her shudder. If he’d stolen or broken something, or if he’d even just moved an item from its proper place, they would know someone had been snooping in their home. It was her reputation on the line. This was her livelihood and she’d been close to squandering it. And for what? To give Gary something to do? To take it easy on herself by having the ceiling done for her? What had she been thinking?
He came down the stairs, looking less sheepish than she’d have hoped, carrying her backpack in one hand and the DeChristopher house key in the other. “I closed up your paints for you,” he said, handing her the key, “and I figured you’d need this.”
She whipped the key from his outstretched hand, moving back to the access panel to set up the burglar alarm for their exit. As she was about to enter the code, she turned, “Turn around.”
Gary rolled his eyes. “You inputted the code before, sweetheart. How do you know I didn’t see it then?”
“Just . . . just shut up,” she said, tapping the numbers, then shutting the panel door. “Okay, it’s clear. Let’s go.”
At the car, Annie dug through her backpack for her car keys, surprised when Gary’s hand covered hers. “Let me drive,” he said.
“Why?”
“You’re tired. And I screwed up. I know I did. Let me do this small thing for you.”
She slammed her car keys on the roof. “Fine.”
Inside the car, Annie tossed the DeChristophers’ key back into the glove compartment and sat back. Watching as they passed the big, beautiful houses, she wondered if she’d ever get out from this mess she’d married herself into. Financially, she was still okay, at least for a little while. And if her business took off, she’d have enough money to keep herself afloat and take care of the baby, too. The baby. Seems like something she’d forgotten over the course of the last few days. But it was easy to do, what with not having the requisite morning sickness. Bathroom visits and fatigue were her two biggest hurdles, but she’d learned to cope with them, so far.
She lifted an arm to lean it out the open window, and winced. Her breasts were sore, too. That was something she hadn’t expected, but Karla said not to worry. Just meant that they were getting a little bigger. Not too much bigger, she hoped.
It dawned on her that Gary had asked a question.
“What?”
“I said,” Gary seemed to draw out the words, “that a guy I know paid me some money he owed me, so I can help out a little at home.”
At home. Annie bit her tongue.
“And there’s even enough to maybe take you out for lunch today. Whaddya say?”
Rolling her head his direction, she mouthed, “No way.”
“Come on,” he said, caj
oling. “You want to talk about the divorce, right?”
“It’s not like I want to do anything with you.”
“Okay, we need to talk about the divorce,” he stretched out the word and rolled his eyes. “And we can do it at home, if you want. No problem. But don’t forget, Pete’s there.”
Chapter Twelve
“Pete, it’s me,” Gary said, his hand cupping the mouthpiece of the cell phone. Standing just inside the door of the men’s room at Donagan’s, head down, he leaned his butt against the speckled beige Formica countertop, righting himself quickly as spilled hand-washing water soaked through the back of his jeans. Moving across the dank room, he leaned instead against the brown tile walls and scowled at the plastic device over his head dispensing bursts of air freshener at regular intervals.
Leftover paint from the DeChristophers’ black ceiling marred one of his gym shoes and he used the bottom of his clean gym shoe to try to wear the stain away.
“Pete?” Gary’s eyes shot to the floor, verifying yet again that no one occupied any of the stalls. No matter how low he kept his voice, the sound bouncing against the ceramic tiles made it feel like he was shouting. He stage-whispered, talking quickly, hoping no one would come in.
The restaurant was nearly empty on this early afternoon, but Gary knew that any minute some old coot might decide he needed the facilities and wander in to overhear the conversation. And unless the geezer was deaf, he’d hear Pete’s side of it too because the fool talked so loud.
Gary grimaced, holding the phone away from his ear while Pete finished yawning. “Oh yeah? Hi, Gare. Didn’t expect to be hearing from you till late tonight.” Sounds sputtered through the phone; stretching noises. “How’s it goin’?”
