Bringing her thoughts full circle, back to the interloping Quinleys. Why couldn’t they have just stayed clear of what she considered her own private territory?
Snorting a little with disdain for the situation into which she had been dragged, willy-nilly, through no fault of her own, Annajane peeled herself out of the spa tub and stretched forth one languid arm for the Egyptian cotton towel draped over a heater.
As of the moment, she couldn’t be sure what form the revenge she planned to exact would take. One thing was for sure, though: whatever else happened, her final triumph would involve plenty of surveillance and spying. The NSA would have nothing on her!
Chapter Two
“Jeff, could I ask you something?”
“Huh? Oh, sure, honey. Ask away.”
Olivia was torn between asperity and amusement. “Well, I think I’d have a better chance getting an answer if you’d put your newspaper aside and give me your full attention.”
Her husband was still enough of a newlywed—and a wise one, at that—to choose humor over hauteur. “Okay, Mrs. Quinley. Your request is my command. There. The Times is down. I’m giving you my full attention.”
Since marriage, and the establishment of her family, Olivia had come to treasure weekends. Prior to Jeff’s re-entrance into her life, as a single woman she had usually treated those precious extra two days as a mere extension to the work week. Time spent in her office dreaming up new designs or completing paperwork alternated with time spent in the company of her active son and their equally active mixed-breed mutt.
Now, however, she could usually count on a lazy beginning to her Saturdays and Sundays, with leisurely breakfast for everyone, followed by whatever errands must be run or chores must be dealt with. Which was, in fact, happening right now in the back yard, where Nicholas had been sent to dig up all the doggie land mines left over the past few days. Accompanied by, but not truly assisted by, Bruno, the boy was reluctantly complying with the responsibility given over to him since he was old enough to wield a trowel.
Meanwhile, with scummy plates piled into the sink pre-dishwasher phase, his parents were enjoying a second cup of coffee in the sun-splashed kitchen.
Jeff flashed his trademark sweet smile across the table. “Wanna take in a movie tonight?”
“Not really. With my bulk, it gets too tiresome sitting in those squashy little seats for two hours. Jeff. Why, exactly, did you buy your old house from—well, from her?”
The smile faded. Screwing up his mouth into a rueful grimace, he shoved the newspaper farther aside and pulled his cup forward. “Funny you should ask, Liv. Kinda been wonderin’ that myself.”
“Wondering yourself?” She was aghast. “You mean—you’re not sure?”
“Lotsa mixed feelings involved. And some of ’em aren’t so noble.”
“Such as?”
Gathering his thoughts, Jeff poured sugar into his cup with cheerful disregard for measurement and stirred the syrupy sludge together. “Okay. Mainly, I guess I just wanted to prove to her that I could do it. That our marriage hadn’t been completely about her ruling over me like—like some raddled old Queen of a foreign country, spouting orders that I was supposed to obey.” He lifted his chin with a hint of defiance, as if daring her to find fault with his behavior. “See? Some nice guy you hooked up with, huh?”
“Oh, Jeff.” Her voice registered, not shock, as he’d expected, but the tenderness of a mother for a child, and she reached across to cover the hand that had not halted its unrelenting work with the spoon. “Yes, I do see. And I did hook up with a nice guy. Now. What do you plan on doing with the house?”
“Doing with it? Huh. Well. Not too sure, at the moment.”
“Did you think of moving back to the old neighborhood, and living there again?”
He shook his head. For a few moments he stared out the big bay window, frowning a little in thought, surveying the back yard and its two enthusiastic occupants, who seemed to be involved more in chasing each other than in actual scooping. Overhead, a squirrel hurled taunts down upon them, and an offended jenny wren flitted back and forth to scold at these interlopers into her territory.
Olivia’s favorite red roses were blooming in glorious disarray along the picket fence; beds of violently colored petunias and some other spiky flowers had set up shop in various nooks and crannies; mature maples and a young oak gently swayed their branches with every breeze.
God, he loved this house. He loved this whole area. Almost as much as he loved the woman who had joined her fate with his and now sat patiently waiting to continue their discussion.
“No. I don’t want to leave here, Livvie. This is the home I’ve never had, and I don’t want to move away.”
“Well, what then? Will you put the other place up for sale?”
He pulled an apologetic grin. “I sure went slam-bang into this thing without any discussion before it, didn’t I?”
“You did indeed,” Olivia agreed, only half-severely. “Did you think I might refuse to go along with your plan, if you’d checked with me first?”
“Naw. I’m an adult. I could’ve…I might’ve just…” Now Jeff’s expression turned as sheepish as that of a small boy, caught in mischief. “Well, yeah. Maybe.”
“Well, if you don’t want to live there, and you haven’t decided about putting the house up for sale, what, then? Do you want to make it into a retirement center for senior citizens? Or a halfway place for addicts? Or an animal shelter?”
Jeff brightened. “Hey, those aren’t bad ideas. Could you imagine AJ’s face if she woke up to wheelchairs or dog walkers some fine morning?”
Head tilted slightly to one side, as if invisibly inclined by the weight of one of her signature hats, Olivia surveyed him with the instinctive understanding many wives attain. “Seems to me you’re still awfully tied to a woman who, not so long ago, tried to kill you.”
“Oh, just in rare moments, honey.” Sliding his chair closer to hers, he leaned forward for a loving kiss and a gentle pat of the rounded belly that filled her loose top to overflowing. “Okay, so you had a good hard look at the Queen house the other day, at my request. But you didn’t have a lot to say afterward.”
“Noooo…I didn’t have a very good feeling when I left. Sort of—I don’t know, depressed. The boys were quiet on the way home, too. Although I did meet a very nice neighbor. Julia Halliwell.”
“Oh, Julia. Yeah, she’s a sweetheart. Her husband Marty is a great guy, too. Were you out walking around somewhere when you bumped into her?”
Olivia paused for a sip of coffee gone lukewarm, even in the summer’s heat. “No bumping. She came to the door to introduce herself and welcome me—us—to the cul-de-sac. We had a—um—an enlightening conversation.”
“Enlightening? How so?”
“It seems that your ex-wife—” his present wife gave him a long, steady look, “—is redecorating their downstairs.”
Jeff’s brows climbed toward his hairline, and he let out a low whistle. “Is she? Son of a gun. I wonder how Julia got roped into that?”
“She didn’t say, exactly. But I’m beginning to wonder how so many people get roped into doing what they don’t want to do, when it comes to Annajane. What sort of power does she have?”
“Beats me, Livvie Quinley. But nowhere near the power you have, trust me.” He gave another easy pat to her Buddha belly, just to be convincing. Then he leaned in to nuzzle the side of her neck. “Hey, great idea—how about we stay home tonight and I grill us some burgers and then give you a massage afterward. Hmmmm? Does that sound appealing?”
“Very appealing. The house on Queen Street?”
He snorted with irritation and pushed away to fetch the coffeepot. “Jesus. Nothing like beating a dead horse, is there? For the moment, Liv, and for the record, I dunno. I wanted to get your feel for the place, to see if we should make any changes, that’s all.”
“Well, I can tell you that no sane woman
would want to live there,” she retaliated with some heat. “It’s like a mausoleum. Every surface possible is covered in marble, and there are more plaster statues scattered throughout than at the Vatican. I began to wonder if I might catch the Pope peering around one of the corners to make sure I wasn’t making off with the silver.”
“Yep, that’s how I remember it, all right. So, in your opinion, we’d need to do some drastic updating if we wanted to put it on the market.”
“I would certainly think you’d—”
“Hey, Mom!” The back door slammed open, and a panting boy rocketed inside, followed by a panting dog. Boy betook himself to the refrigerator for a glass of juice; dog betook himself to the water dish, to splash and slosh with abandon. “We got all the messes cleaned up. Now Dad can mow. Then can we go to the marina for a while? Can we, huh?”
A bright and mature boy for his age, Nick had accepted in stride the change of financial status with his mother’s marriage. In fact, he had adjusted quite well to every change. While no grandiose gestures were apparent, the fact that his family now owned a small boat, with privileges, was enough to set his heart soaring. Nick loved being on the water, at every opportunity, and Jeff delighted in sharing his own joy of sailing with this very special son.
Now, Jeff cocked an eyebrow in his wife’s direction, and she caved. Of course she caved. How could she not?
“Fine, you two do whatever it is men do on Saturday afternoons.”
“You don’t mind, Mom? Honest?”
“No, Nicky. The baby and I will be perfectly happy having some quiet time to ourselves.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom!” He clunked down the glass of water to sweep her into an awkward but heartfelt hug. “C’mon, Dad, I’ll go get the mower out. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can get away!” With the usual burst of energy exhibited by so many ten-year-olds, he dashed off, the dog at his heels.
Jeff gave her a look. “You, Mrs. Quinley, are one terrific babe.”
Sniffing, she affected a pout. “Uh-huh. Nice segue, my friend. Just remember, we have not yet finished with our discussion about that house!”
Namely, reflected Olivia a trifle morosely, as she watched her husband shamble off to the garage in the wake of boy and dog, the fact that Annajane continued to be a presence in their lives. A most unwelcome presence. An actual thorn in the side. The idea that the former Mrs. Quinley would be hanging out right next door, overseeing Halliwell renovations, while Olivia and her family might be in residence, made her skin crawl.
Even the baby had picked up on her mood, moving about restlessly in the womb, and sometimes kicking hard, with every unexpected jump of Olivia’s pulse.
Too many questions lay unanswered, too many mysteries still abounded. With all the money in the world available at her fingertips, why would Annajane even have considered taking on a redecorating project? Especially one located so near to her own former residence? Was it to keep an evil eye on property she once possessed? What mischief and mayhem might she be plotting now? How much harm might she try to cause?
With memory of the attempted murder so much a part of their recent past, being anywhere around that woman would be like walking on eggs. Anything could set her off.
As the sound of a mower being started outside intruded into the kitchen’s silence, Olivia sipped slowly at a final cup of coffee. She couldn’t help feeling worried and apprehensive about any visit to the Queen Street place as long as Annajane Kendricks still dominated the area. The very idea of being spied upon, or even someday being forced to speak to her, for politeness’ sake, sent chills up her spine—much in the way of encountering a venomous spider, or a brightly banded coral snake.
She drew in a few deep, calming breaths. She would just have to be on her guard, vigilant for every minute spent in that old neighborhood.
It would be all right.
It would have to be all right.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“I don’t quite know what to do,” Olivia confessed.
Concerned, Julia wrinkled her forehead. “About what?”
“The situation with—” subconsciously her voice lowered, as if the subject of her uncertainty might be lurking somewhere nearby, “—um—you know.” Was it possible that even speaking her name might conjure her up, like some wraith from the bowels of the earth?
Julia laughed. “Oh, I get it. She who must remain anonymous, huh? Yes, I kinda know how you feel.”
A week, filled with business dealings and summer activities, had passed by, when Julia had called to invite her new friend over for the afternoon. With Nick, of course. “My boys have been driving me crazy,” she admitted frankly, over the phone, “and yours and mine can get into all sorts of innocent mayhem in our back yard.”
“I don’t know,” Olivia had said with doubt fully audible in her voice. How to tactfully explain that she just didn’t feel comfortable on Queen Street, no matter the buffer? “I do have some errands to run, and then there’s Bruno…”
“Oh, by all means, bring him along. Chris and Chad would never forgive me if the visit didn’t include Bruno.”
With some misgiving, Olivia had given in. But her fears went unfounded, she would discover once they arrived; no sign of the eldritch anywhere.
Now they were installed in Julia’s sunroom, open to the outdoors via three great glass walls and a multitude of ferns, bromeliads, and the like. The colors of fresh green, white, and yellow felt relaxing, in the middle of some primeval forest, as if one could just settle down for hours without a care for anything bothersome.
From here, both mothers could, as well, keep a wary eye on their offspring, who were racing joyously about from playground equipment to ball-throwing and catching.
“They’re having such fun together,” observed Julia, after a sip from her glass of lemonade. “Look at that—mine aren’t even fighting!”
Olivia chuckled. “Do they fight a lot?”
“Oh, honey, it’s a constant war zone around here. They fight over who has the biggest pancake for breakfast. Over who gets to stay up later. Over who gets the most presents at Christmas time. Honestly, it just wears me out. Wait; you’ll see, once your second little one arrives.”
“I suppose. Except, I’m hoping with the age difference…”
“Well, you have a point there. My boys are only two years apart, so there’s a continual rivalry between them for everything. Now, you were saying, about Morticia—?” she ended with a disrespectful giggle, in which Olivia helplessly joined.
Once they had quieted their mirth, and each had partaken of more lemonade and a couple of small spritz cookies from the Halliwell’s favorite bakery, Olivia tried to answer the question.
“I’ve been trying to be generous. To maybe see the world through her eyes. But it’s really hard to do that, when—”
“Huh. When the bullet she shot Jeff with missed his heart by mere inches. Yes, that would be hard,” agreed Julia, with no sense of irony.
“I feel she’s up to something. Oh, I know, I know,” Olivia held up her hands to ward off a protest, “that doesn’t sound rational. But I can tell you, Julia, that having her here at your house so often, during this redecorating phase, having her so close to the house Jeff owns again—well, it just makes me plain nervous. I don’t know what I might expect from her. Friend or foe? And I’ve never even officially met the woman!”
The redecorating phase was moving ahead slowly but steadily. All furnishings and small pieces of furniture had been removed from the living room, with the larger pieces centered and covered by tarp; and stepladders stood everywhere, along with every bit of necessary equipment, from spackle and putty knives and sandpaper to paint cans and brushes. Crown molding was being refreshed with pure clean white; walls were being changed from boring beige to a soft mossy green.
Julia, who was trying to take everything in stride, simply disappeared with the boys every day, for as long as possible, to get away. I
t seemed the easiest, most convenient solution. But Martin, possessed of far less patience, was already making noises about moving to a hotel till all this damned mess was finished and cleaned up. He couldn’t even think with all the racket going on.
Leaning forward, which seemed to deepen and intensify her resolve, Olivia said, “Do you—do you see much of her, here, during the day? Does she supervise, or hang around?”
“I skip out.” At the pained reaction, Julia attempted defense. “Well, honestly, can you blame me? The noise, the smell, the people in and out at all hours…She has a key. How much she’s here, while I’m not—well, I can’t really say.”
Just Livvie managed a weak smile. “Somehow that doesn’t reassure me a whole lot.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. If you’re worried about your new place—I mean, Jeff’s old place…oh, whatever! Were the locks changed?”
“Oh, yes.” A tinge of bitterness in the low-pitched voice. “Jeff did do that much.”
“Uh. You don’t sound very happy about this whole arrangement.” Julia surveyed her friend over the rim of a lemonade glass. “Does that mean you won’t be moving back? No, I mean—Jeff won’t be moving back. You were never here to begin with, so—oh, for God’s sake, Liv, this whole thing is just too confusing!”
She grimaced. “Tell me about it.”
Silence for a moment. Both women glanced outside, checking on the boys. Two were climbing a tall old walnut tree, with branches low enough to entice, and a third was throwing sticks for the dog. A good time was being had by all. No battles, no mischief, no blood.
“Do you really fear that Annajane might do some sort of harm to your place?”
“I think it’s—possible,” Olivia said carefully. Then, putting the ball in the other court: “What do you think?”
“Last year, I never would have considered such a thing. But, now—I really don’t know, Liv. I do think you’d be wise, both you and Jeff, to take precautions. And I’m so sorry that the situation seems to be aggravated by this infernal redecorating business. Looks like, in Annajane’s messed-up mind, pushing me to give her the work was just a pretext.”
Romance: He Done Her Wrong (Cuddlesack Queens #2) Page 4
