There is movement in the trees, but it’s slight. A deer, perhaps, or something even smaller, not really wanting to draw attention to itself. I wait, hoping to catch a glimpse, but it never materializes. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone is barbecuing, and elsewhere children are outside playing. A dog barks; another responds. It’s all quite normal.
Just as that thought coalesces, it strikes me how much my definition of “normal” has changed, and in only a few months. Not so long ago, it meant jet-setting and rubbing elbows with politicians and celebrities like Genevieve Lennon. Now it apparently means a good steak and better glass of wine, at home in the woods, sans bear or burglar activity. The question becomes: Is this lifestyle enough to satisfy me long-term?
Short-term, I clean up after myself, pour a big glass of one of my favorite reds, and go find my phone. I need to talk to Cavin, see how things went today. In fact, I’m a little surprised I haven’t heard from him yet. But there is no message or voice mail, and when I call him, he doesn’t answer, so I leave my own recorded request: “Touching base. How’d everything go? Call me when you get this message.”
An hour passes, invested in my book, and when I don’t hear back, I decide to try Eli, who answers immediately. He always does. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
I grit my teeth at the name. “Nothing important. Just trying to get hold of your father, and he hasn’t responded. Did you get moved into the hotel okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m ingesting room service as we speak.”
“I see. And where is Cavin?”
“You don’t know?”
“Eli, if I knew I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Ha. Right. Well, he went out to dinner with your sister.”
“Mel?”
Stupid question, and he pounces. “You have more than one?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“That’s what I thought. Yes, with Melody. She drove over to help Kayla settle in. I bumped into her and mentioned we were staying at the Fairmont tonight, so she got a room here, too.”
That much makes sense. “I see. Did your father say when he’d be back?”
“Nope. Hey, Dad said someone tried to break in?”
“Seems that way. Apparently he’d burgled several nearby homes. But the cops think they got him.”
“Already?” He sounds disappointed.
“That’s a bad thing?”
“I was kind of hoping to kick his ass.”
Perfect. “That won’t be necessary. And it’s probably a good thing for you they arrested him. They wanted to take your fingerprints to compare with the ones they lifted from the downstairs doors.”
“Why would that be good for me?”
“I don’t know. In case you’re ever involved in something you shouldn’t be?”
He laughs. “No worries. If that ever happens, which of course it won’t, I won’t get caught. I grew up on a steady diet of Law and Order.”
Wonder how many incarcerated people said the same thing preincarceration.
“Do me one favor, please? When your dad gets back, please have him call me. It’s okay if it’s late. I’ll be waiting to hear from him.”
“Will do. Oh, by the way, the new owner stopped by your house while we were there. She had some interior designer with her. I don’t think you’d like what she has in mind.”
Thanks, Eli.
Yeah, thanks a lot.
“Guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t around, huh?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure it would’ve been entertaining. I’m sorry you let the house go, by the way. It’s awesome.”
Yeah. What were you thinking?
“What’s done is done.” And I’m done with this conversation. “Don’t forget to have your dad call me.”
“Will do.”
After he hangs up, the place feels empty, so I resort to television. Luckily, I find an old Woody Allen movie I never watched before. I’m not a huge fan of his, but Manhattan proves to be worth viewing. I settle back on the big pillows, turn down the interior lights, and thoroughly enjoy my girls’ night in with myself.
When the credits roll, I turn off the TV and close my eyes, listening to the rising wind through the treetops. Falling. Falling. Falling.
What’s that noise? The annoying chiming tugs me out of a very nice dream, up into semidarkness. Oh. My phone, and the ringtone informs me it’s Cavin. My hand shoots out, almost knocking it off the coffee table, but I manage to hang on to it and answer right before it goes to voice mail. “H-hello?”
“It’s me, honey.”
“I know. What time is it?”
“Late. A little after twelve. But Eli said you wanted me to call whatever time I got in.”
Everything falls into place, slow-motion. “Wait. You were out with Mel until midnight?”
“Well, we had dinner and then we came back to the hotel for a nightcap and ended up having more than one.”
“You got drunk with my sister?”
“She got drunk and I watched, actually. I don’t think she’s used to hard liquor, and she was tossing back chocolate martinis like they didn’t contain vodka.”
“Is she okay?”
“I made sure she got to her room safely, but she’s not going to feel great in the morning.”
“That’s not what I mean. What’s going on with her?”
He takes a deep breath. “Basically, she really believes you and Graham had some grand affair. In fact, she’s not sure it’s over, even now. I did everything I could to convince her otherwise. Toward the end of the evening, either I was swaying her or she just stopped listening. At least she quit arguing.”
“I don’t get it. Graham and I have barely spoken to each other throughout the twenty years they’ve been together. We’d have to be brilliant actors. And beyond that, Mel should know me better.”
“I said as much, sweetheart. I’m not even sure why she decided to open up to me—whether she was looking for information or trying to make me jealous or what. It was a very strange night.”
Strange, indeed.
“Jealous?”
“Maybe ‘suspicious’ is a better word. She strongly suggested I keep you close to home and maybe even put our favorite private investigator to work.”
“Following me?”
“Yep.”
“Believe it or not, I haven’t even looked at another man since I met you.” Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but I haven’t looked at one lustfully. “In fact . . .”
I come very close to telling him about Mel’s little indiscretion while we were in Idaho but change my mind. I promised her I’d keep her secret.
But would she do the same for you?
“What?” he asks, curiosity piqued.
“In fact, the best-looking, most endowed man in the universe could dance naked across our deck and I’d close my eyes.”
“Hey. I thought I was the best-looking, most endowed man in the universe.”
“Okay, the runner-up could perform Swan Lake in the nude and I’d close my eyes the entire time.”
He laughs warmly, and suddenly I miss him. Despite enjoying my envelope of seclusion, I’ll be happy to have him home. And tomorrow night, we’ll have mad, unfettered sex. Not that I have anything to prove, but I don’t want the thought to even cross his mind that I might be interested in anyone on the side. Especially Graham.
For now I change the subject, quizzing him briefly about the movers. All seems to have gone well on that account. My beautiful furniture has now been transferred into climate-controlled storage, where it will stay until I figure out what I want to do with it.
“It’s late, so I’ll let you go to bed. Will you do me a favor before you leave the city tomorrow and stop by Boudin’s?” It’s my favorite San Francisco bakery. “I’ve got a sudden urge for fresh sourdough French bread. Pick up a loaf for dinner and a couple extra to put in the freezer.”
“Anything for you, milady. I’ll be home before supper. Sleep we
ll.”
I try, but between the catnap and Cavin’s information about my sister, I spend too much time lost in thought. I wish I knew how best to deal with Melody’s idiotic notion. Keep quiet? Confront her? Confront Graham in front of her? Anyone but my sister would simply be excised from my life. But the one person I’ve ever been able to count on absolutely is Mel. And while I can, and absolutely will if I must, survive without her presence, it would chisel a crack that might well become a chasm.
Goddamn it, Graham, what have you done?
Fuck Graham. What’s Melody done?
thirty
I WAKE TO SLIGHT MOVEMENT in my bed. I’ve slept alone for months now and the smell of last night’s sex disorients me at first. But now I remember. The man is a stranger, one I only just met a few days ago. I liked his smile then, liked even more our mutual interest in poetry and music. I liked that he took an immediate interest in me.
It’s early.
Still dark outside.
In here, the candle mosaic hanging on the far wall provides just enough light to cast a faint shadow when I slip out from beneath the covers and go into the bathroom. I enjoyed the encounter. He was a decent lover, eager enough to give as well as receive. But I’m not in the mood for an encore this morning, and I want a shower.
Hot water cascades through my hair and down over my back, and the scent it carries is gardenia.
Familiar.
Past tense.
I haven’t used that shampoo in years.
I turn off the tap. Pad across the tile, trying not to slip. Wrap a towel around myself. As I approach the door, there’s a bloom of noise on the far side. Voices. Laughter. Dishes.
Dishes?
Gardenia-scented hair still dripping, towel slipping slightly, I fling open the door and find myself entering El Caballero, my favorite Mexican restaurant. At least, it was twenty years ago. At a central table, Melody looks up, smiles, and waves at me. The man who’s sitting across from her stands. Turns. No.
It can’t be the stranger who loves beat poetry.
Grunge music.
Fucking me.
“Graham.”
I throw myself out of the dream, out of bed. God, I was right back there in Las Vegas, twenty-three years old. It was completely real, up until I walked into the restaurant wearing only a towel. Two decades ago I wore actual clothes. Well, except for those hours in bed.
Hours with Graham.
I’ve tried very hard to forget our one-night stand. But the details that were just exhumed from buried memories resurrect it quite clearly. He is not the man my husband is, but, at least back then, he was intelligent, well-spoken, and generous when it came to sex. Had he not been involved with my sister, there probably would have been other nights together. Maybe a few afternoons, too.
But he’d been dating Mel for a while. Walking into that restaurant, discovering it was he she was so smitten by, was a complete shock and surreal coincidence. I made it very clear to him afterward that I had no interest in pursuing a relationship. Melody never found out about that night.
Until now.
Yes, until now.
I accomplish my workout prebreakfast and after a short burst of sustenance decide to start work on the Fresh for Families project. I’ll need to scout locations for the video shoots ASAP. I e-mail Jason:
Morning. I want to interview some of your growers, preferably at their properties, so we can decide where to shoot video. Can you set that up right away? I’m willing to work over the weekend if necessary. Touring the locations is vital, and sooner rather than later is always best. Also, I’ve decided it might be better to use a production company closer to home, which will save travel costs. With your permission, I’ll investigate several.
I could just call him, of course, but I’ve found paper trails useful in the past. They keep everyone on board, and there’s a record of communication chains. Apparently it was a good decision, because I’m still at my desk when he responds.
Love your enthusiasm. I’ll make some inquiries and get right back to you. As for the production company, I’ll trust you to choose the right one.
I spend some time looking at websites, some in Reno and others in Sacramento, and ultimately decide to talk to five in the Sac area, as most of Jason’s growers are on the western side of the Sierra. I invest thirty minutes in discussion with each, outlining our vision for the video, as well as reminding them about the nonprofit’s mission. I’m not necessarily looking for a discount but would like to hear sympathy for our cause reflected in the voice on the far side of the conversation.
Eventually, I weed them to three and request links to videos they’ve produced that reflect similar goals, plus a budget and short outline for the projects they’ll propose, and I give them three days to accomplish that. Hopefully we can start filming within the next couple of weeks.
The process takes several hours, and by the time I’ve completed it, I get an e-mail back from Jason.
Everyone I’ve talked to is excited to be included. If you can go Friday, I’ll pick you up and we can drive over the mountain. We should leave by nine, if that’s okay, so we won’t have to hurry. We can visit the Fallon farms another day, but probably should include them in the video as we won’t use them for the fund-raiser.
Good point.
I reply:
Friday is fine. I’ll be ready by nine. But I’d like to get out to Fallon tomorrow. I can drive myself if you send addresses and let them know I’ll be coming. Oh, and I’ve got three Sacramento-area production companies sending proposals by the end of the week. We have a great start.
He’s obviously still at his computer, because his response takes only a few minutes.
Like I said, I love your enthusiasm. I’ll get in touch with Fallon.
That was an excellent half day’s work. Satisfied, I start toward the kitchen to consider what to make for dinner, and when I’m halfway there, the doorbell rings. It’s the crew leader of the company that’s scheduled to replace the siding.
“Kind of late in the day, isn’t it?” I ask the foreman, whose name is Hector.
“Yeah,” he acknowledges. “Sorry. Two of the guys called in sick, so I had to pull these dudes off another job. Today’s all demolition anyway. Okay if we get started?”
I agree it’s fine but soon wish I didn’t. The noise reverberating off the side of the house is going to drive me insane. Glad they’ll be here only a short while this afternoon and that I’ll be away for the next couple of days.
We are blessed at the lake with several fine farmers’ markets, so there are lots of fresh veggies and herbs in the fridge. I decide on a nice minestrone. The food prep doesn’t take much concentration, though it is time consuming. Wash. Stem. Chop. Dice. Mince. Sauté. Brown. Season. Add liquid. Bring to a slow boil. Reduce heat. Cover. Simmer low until dinnertime.
When that’s finished I make my way downstairs to check on the progress outside.
Surprisingly, the three men have managed to remove the entire upper half already. Considering the height of the house, I’m impressed. “Wow,” I tell Hector. “You guys are fast.”
“Faster taking it down than putting it up. But we’ve had lots of practice at both. We’ll be finished with the demo by tomorrow morning, and then comes the hard part.”
“Have you found any damage under the siding? The adjustor said you might.”
“Nope. Not so far, anyway. Look for yourself. The siding’s more burned down low, though, so we’ll see mañana. We’re gonna wrap it up for the day pretty soon.”
I take my leave, and as I turn in the direction of the door, an object in the dirt by the step catches my eye. Anger erupts when I recognize what it is. I reach down, pick it up, and spin back toward the workers, luckily using my left leg as the pivot. That could have set my rehab back weeks.
“Who did this?” I demand, catching the men off guard.
Hector speaks for the crew. “Did what?”
“Who tossed their cigarette
out here?” I extend my hand, showing him the offending butt.
His head shakes without hesitation. “None of us, lady. It’s a company rule. No smoking except in our trucks.”
If disbelieving looks were bullets, I just shot him dead.
“No, really. We would never smoke on a job, and anyone who tosses a butt in a client’s yard is an ass. I can vouch for these guys. Not asses.”
The not-asses in question keep working without comment.
He’s convincing. “Well, okay then. It’s just . . . I can’t think of anyone else who might have done this.”
“You got kids?”
It’s a fair question, but one I don’t answer. Instead, I retreat, stewing. Who could have done this? Handy Al et al raked every inch of this area, and the resulting debris was bagged and hauled away. Is it possible they missed this? Or has someone been out here since? If that’s the case, who?
Of course, it could be random. It could have blown in from the street or from the house next door. I’m just about ready to chalk it up to that when I notice, several steps toward the trees, what looks to be a second butt. I move closer. Bend to pick it up. It is, and it’s the same brand—Newport. Okay, logically they could have come from an ashtray dumped on the road and picked up by the wind.
But instinct warns someone’s been smoking out here, and recently, like within the last couple of days.
Definitely time for camera surveillance.
Which reminds me I forgot to call a security company this morning. I go inside to remedy that and wait for Cavin to get home, very careful to lock the doors behind me. I’m reading when I hear a key turn in the lock, and when I look up from my book, I’m surprised to see it’s Eli.
“I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, that’s what I originally said, but I knew how much you were missing me.”
Funny kid. Glad I made a big pot of soup for dinner. “I expected your father sooner. Have any idea where he got waylaid?”
A Sin Such as This Page 23
