It had been a day of interruptions, first the call from Alonzo interrupted her television show planning, and then the call from her renter interrupted the renovation planning. And then as soon as Mitzy was back at her desk, the phone rang again.
The station manager had called and begged her to fill in some empty time this afternoon. One of their advertisers had failed to pay and they were handling these situations with no mercy. Everyone seemed to love Johnny and Mitzy spots so it seemed a perfect quick fix if she could be had on short notice.
Johnny at the radio station was cute, but he was so crass. Mitzy didn’t mind flirting, or rather, she was a natural at it. But Johnny had a way of making her think she had gone too far. She wondered if it was just his radio personality. The whole flirting with her thing might just be his radio personality as well. He might not have two thoughts about her in real life.
She watched him through the window into his booth as he chatted with the weather and traffic guy. It would just be really nice to have someone to bring to the Dinner with Degas. Really, really nice.
Don’t be unequally yoked… The old advice nagged at her. When it came to that she couldn’t think of a single man that was her equal. She was either too old or too young, or too busy and too independent for most men she met.
She turned and looked at her reflection in the hall mirror. She didn’t look bad, either. She sighed. She didn’t think of herself as vain, but she did dress well for work. She had on her favorite purple business suit. It was the kind with a fitted jacket that skimmed the top of her low rise slacks. She had a shiny tank under her jacket. She felt very hip in this suit. Her hair was a good three inches up off her forehead, curls perfect, and not stiff. Her make-up, understated. She took a deep breath and stood up tall. She’d ask him to the dinner today or she’d never ask him. She thought about her ratings. Definitely, if she asked him at all, it would be while on air. People loved a private romance gone public.
She turned to his window again. It would be so much nicer if she knew he was a Christian man.
The producer nodded through the window, she opened the door, and went in.
“Hey, baby, in for a nooner?” Johnny winked and pushed a chair out for her.
Her stomach fell down to her knees and her face fell too. She didn’t want to go out with a man who thought that was funny.
She sat down. “In what world would you think that was an appropriate thing to say to a friend and a colleague?” Her voice was warm with hurt and disappointment.
“A man can dream, Mitz, a man can dream.” Johnny smirked at her and winked again. “And if I’m dreaming about you, it isn’t my fault. You look fine this afternoon. Who put that smile on your face, if you didn’t get it looking forward to seeing me?”
“Where is your brain today, Johnny? Your radio station is going broke and begging people to sit here and talk to you. You think I’m smiling because you made a rude pass? My livelihood isn’t dependent on what your listeners think of me.” Mitzy looked over at the producer. The producer shrugged. “You, however, have to come here everyday and talk to the kind of people who want conservative news, financial reports, and a traffic update. They want Dr. Laura for Pete’s sake. If you want people to pay their hard earned dollars advertising on your station you had better give a little thought to the kind of chatter you fill the air with. You don’t want to be the reason people tune out for good.”
“No, I was wrong. That’s not a smile and you haven’t been getting lucky. But how that long pole got all the way up—”
“That’s it, Johnny. You’ve lost the Neuhaus morning spot. You can explain it to the station manager.” She threw her headphones down and stormed out of the booth.
By the time she hit the hall tears were stinging her eyes. How dare he? How dare he!
Things were starting to come apart. Quitting her radio spot on the air in a hissy fit for comments she could have handled on a day she hadn’t wanted Johnny to be a nice guy—that wasn’t her style.
Nonetheless, she left the radio station and drove all the way home. She was done with work for the day.
Alonzo lay in his hospital bed with a pounding head, tuned in to Johnny Headly’s radio show. He had almost turned it off, when Mitzy joined him.
Mitzy was making herself out to be some kind of nun. He tried to picture her with her big hair and blue eye shadow dressed in a habit. His imagination rejected the long black robe. As much as he hated everything about her, he would hate to hide a good looking woman in a nun’s habit.
But he shouldn’t hate. He knew better. But was it okay to be incredibly aggravated by someone?
Alonzo got to thinking about his property issues again. He ought to get out of his little dump of an office, throw some paint on it, and get someone else in it.
And then what?
He really wanted an acre or so in the downtown industrial area. He was serious business and that’s where serious business went on. Sure, the Eastside had an industrial area, but it wasn’t the same. So why even bother with that dump of Neuhaus’?
He tallied its benefits. Location, location, location.
The commercial lumberyard. The stoneworks. The railroad. And if you can’t be on the Westside at least you can be right by the river on the Eastside.
The area would probably gentrify in the next couple of years as well. Perfect really. A few million dollar lofts and some money yuppies on the street—those were the kind of people he wanted walking past his Miramontes sign every day. Exactly the kind.
The thing was, there wasn’t a single building that size available for five miles in either direction. Everything was let already. The location was happening.
Caution told him he could bide his time and someone was sure to go out of business and vacate. But he wanted to fill his time, not bide it. He wanted to buy a property, fix it to suit and get a little renter in his hole of a place to increase his cash flow. Simple.
Mitzy was really pissed off—er—peeved off by that radio guy, and he was stuck in the hospital until later that evening. So he sat and listened to Johnny Headly throw his radio career down the toilet by talking smack about women in general right before the Dr. Laura show. Why were people always so stupid? he wondered.
Mitzy laid her head on her pillow, her grandma’s afghan tucked up under her chin. She wished she had the energy to make a cappuccino. She wished she had someone to call.
Without a successful radio spot her hopes of getting on First Things were gone. She didn’t want to go to the gala fundraiser without a date. But the Dinner with Degas was her one chance to meet new people who might want to buy a mansion. She really wanted a buyer for the mansion. It would help the guys at the stoneworks. It would help that poor Laurence Mills who was getting foreclosed. It would perk up her staff considerably.
Her staff.
She sighed. She could always take Ben. His girlfriend wouldn’t mind. His girlfriend was twenty-two and very secure in her adorableness. Mitzy hated to take a kid like Ben to an event. It would make her look…was she too young to be a cougar?
She buried her face. She had everything except a few rather important things, like a best friend, or a fella. Or at this moment, a satisfying and fulfilling career.
After a good long sulk she washed her face and changed her clothes. She had dinner with her sister-in-law to contend with still.
Dinner at Brett and Aerin’s. Never the most fun, but it had to be endured if Mitzy wanted the tickets to Dinner with Degas. She’d talk to Ben about the event the next morning. At least he made clever conversation.
Aerin wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Be sure to get these to Mother in time for her to make her hair appointments and get a dress.” She slipped an envelope into Mitzy’s purse.
“Did you get an extra set for my parents this year?” Mitzy tried to sound natural as she asked. Altering their firm but unspoken routine would be tricky.
“Of course not. I get very few comp tickets. The rest go for hundreds of
dollars each.” Aerin stared at Mitzy. “Why would you think I have an extra set?”
“Well…I assumed as you wanted me to get some tickets to Mom, you must have had two sets. You’re always so kind to give me tickets every year. And I always make a donation…” She had to mention the donations. She just had to. Her parents weren’t museum members. They never donated more than ten dollars at the event.
But Mitzy did. However much Aerin and Brett chose to disdain her career, the board of directors was always happy with her donations. Especially last year’s gift.
“Oh. I see.”
Last year Neuhaus New Homes had given the largest donation at the gala event. It was a small year in general, but that had made Mitzy’s donation stand out all the more. There was some talk of a plaque on the wall.
“You know, Mitzy, if you are thinking of our little foundation, you might actually think of hosting your own table this year.”
It was a risky move for Aerin to say that. She had no wish at all for a table full of trashy Southeast Portland Realtors and their friends in construction. She held her breath, hoping that her sister-in-law’s business was too strapped by the economy to put up the five thousand dollars required to sponsor a table at the year’s largest arts fundraiser.
Mitzy smiled brightly, honestly pleased. She had been asking for four years for particulars on how to host a table. Four years. And every year she was put off with the same comp tickets that she was expected to give to her parents. “Oh, Aerin, that would be perfect. Here’s my card. Please have your office call my assistant and we will put it together immediately. I’m sorry there are still tables available at this late a date, but I’m so glad that I can host one!”
Aerin’s lips disappeared in a tight knot. Her nostrils flared. “Oh, darling, I just mean I think we can fit something in for you, at the last minute.” She waved her hand towards the kitchen. “Must go check dinner.”
At the dinner table Mitzy kept the conversation on food. In the early days, when Aerin was a grad student and Mitzy was still in high school, they had bonded—a little—over food.
“This is terrific. Panko breading, right?”
“Absolutely. And I went to the Euro grocery downtown for the proscuitto. It cost an arm and a leg, but so much better than what you get from Trader Joe’s. It’s imported from Florence.”
“I think Trader Joe’s comes from Milwaukee.” They both laughed. Despite what seemed like easy conversation, it was taking all of Mitzy’s concentration to keep the mood light. She could see the steel in Aerin’s eyes.
Brett was a lawyer and very used to tense situations. He was also used to tense situations between his wife and his sister. And frankly, he didn’t care. For one thing, the Mariners were playing and he had ordered the game on pay-per-view. If he could eat whatever the muck on his plate was, panko breading or not, in fifteen minutes he could be back to the TV before the last inning was over.
Neither of these two women cared about sports. Let them have their panko breading. He wasn’t going to pause to talk; he was going to eat. The other thing on his mind was even more important than baseball, but he wanted to get away from the bickering to think about it.
“Are the beans from your garden?” It might have been odd in some place like New York, but in Portland, a flourishing garden was a sign of upper class green-mindedness. This year Aerin had turned her front yard into a vegetable garden.
She had even been featured in Better Homes and Gardens. Aerin and Brett were both very proud.
Aerin had offered the photographer a show in the modern gallery at the museum. Ostensibly it was because she was so impressed by his skill, but Mitzy was fairly certain it was to keep connected with a man who could get her press. The value of good press was another area on which Mitzy and Aerin could agree, if only Aerin would admit it.
“They are. Aren’t they divine? There is nothing as earthy and satisfying as home grown beans. Of course these were frozen from last year, but I think they kept really well.” Preserving the fruits of your garden was equally in vogue right now.
“They really are divine. I still have a gallon bag left. I’m saving them—I don’t know exactly why, I’d just hate to be completely out!” Aerin was very good at the things she chose to do—fundraise for the arts, go green, or ruin an evening with her icy demeanor.
“You ought to use them, Mitzy, they won’t keep forever.” It was the way she said ‘Mitzy’—as though Mitzy really were too stupid to know when to eat food—that put the chill on the table again.
After her disappointment at the radio station, Mitzy couldn’t keep nice, not for another minute. She smiled sharply (regretting it even as she spoke). “Did I hear that your corporate sponsor backed out of the gala this year?”
Brett’s head popped up from his speed eating.
Aerin almost dropped her fork. “We did have a last minute cancellation, yes.”
“Have you found a last minute replacement yet? I have a few ideas if you have run out of people to call.” Mitzy knew she should stop. She was not being gracious or kind. She was picking at a sore spot to make Aerin mad.
“We have, in the past, allowed certain organizations hosting rights to the whole dinner. This year, the people we expected to be most interested in our Dinner with Degas theme were not able to handle the expense of hosting. Having hosting rights is a very valuable position for businesses, but not something we rely on, or…even prefer. We prefer the art to speak for itself.”
Confirmed.
That was the snippet of conversation Mitzy had overheard. They had no ‘host’ for the event. If she remembered, hosting the event came in well above fifty thousand dollars last year. But this year…and at the last minute…Mitzy made a few mental notes to share with Sabrina.
Aerin was important and powerful actually, at the biggest museum in their rather large town. But no matter which way she styled herself, she was not the Director of Development. Aerin may not love the top of mind factor Neuhaus had in real estate on the Eastside, but Mitzy thought the Director of Development wouldn’t be so fussy about where the money came from.
Mitzy could get in at a large discount, she was fairly certain. And Dinner with Degas, by Neuhaus New Homes would give Mitzy the right polish for selling the Victorian. She might not make back her costs in the commission from the house, but there would be future work. And she always welcomed a tax deduction.
Brett returned to his game and Mitzy and Aerin felt no need to keep up the pretense. As soon as Brett left the table, Aerin took her plate to the kitchen and stayed there. Mitzy let herself out.
Early in the morning, a few days later, Sabrina braved the light rain to take another peek at the Baltimore place. She wanted to see if the bank signs had gone up yet. Its status on the county GIS hadn’t changed, so she didn’t know who was handling the foreclosure. She had very few things on her to do list, and even fewer that were as interesting as spying out this house.
This time, she didn’t care at all about appearances and pulled a rugged little step ladder along with her. She set it up under the kitchen window and climbed on up. She leaned in close to the window and cupped her hands around her eyes. The morning was dim and gray and she wasn’t seeing clearly. She couldn’t be seeing clearly.
She squinted. She stared.
Her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
It was all gone!
Sabrina took some pictures with her phone and moved on to the next window. There seemed to be a built-in display or hutch but it was in pieces on the floor.
She made her way around the house, peering closely into all of the downstairs windows. She took a couple more pictures, but nothing seemed as exciting as the kitchen, though wires hanging in the front room seemed to indicate a missing light fixture. And there was a hole, or some other sort of damage to the far wall in one of the rooms. The light was getting dimmer as the rain clouds rolled in and she couldn’t tell if everything she was seeing was newsworthy.
She packed up he
r phone and her ladder and made her way back to the office. She’d beat Mitzy in this morning. And with news to share.
But Sabrina didn’t beat Mitzy in. Mitzy was in the bull pen, nursing a coffee and looking glum.
Mitzy never looked glum. Sabrina dropped her bag and went to her friend.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ben is going out of town the only weekend I actually need him around.” She rested her head on her hand.
The event hosting had been arranged, for a song, really, but she couldn’t see the good of the name recognition. Not without being there in person to meet the people, shake their hands, build connections with them.
She had skipped getting her own table and gotten herself a seat with the board of directors by her donation.
Make that two seats.
And she had no one to sit with. It was unendurable and yet she knew it shouldn’t be.
“Um…so?” Sabrina hadn’t been let into the date dilemma. She knew nothing of her boss’s disappointment at the radio station. She knew nothing of Mitzy’s bitter little attack on Aerin over dinner.
She did know that Dinner with Degas for Portland Arts Council was now Dinner with Degas by Neuhaus New Homes for Portland Arts Council. But that was all.
Mitzy sighed, and then looked up at her friend. “So now I have no one to take to the event. I don’t know why this is getting me down, I really don’t. But I finally have our name on this event. It is exactly the right venue to get a new line of business, and I have two tickets. Two tickets to sit with the board of directors for the Arts Council. My brother will be there with his wife. My dad will be there with my mom. My employee has a life and I can’t think of a single decent person to take to this event. Not one.”
“What about your friend on the radio?”
Mitzy groaned. She rubbed her eyes, which felt old and tired. “I’ll go, and you can come with me, Sabrina. Business as usual, me and my trusty assistant. It will be more fun with you than with someone I don’t really like. You may be a girl, but you’re nice to be around.”
Foreclosed: A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery (A Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery, a Cozy Christian Collection) Page 3
