Somehow, too, he coveted Rebecca’s support, although he was at a loss to understand why. After all, she was just one more tenant in a long line of many before her. In three months or so, if everything went according to plan, she’d be out of there, maybe even out of the area altogether.
So why, really, did it matter?
* * *
“Bad news, Benny,” Rebecca said tightly into the telephone receiver Saturday morning, two weeks since her arrival in Freemont. “Things aren’t looking good here, I’m afraid.”
“What’s the problem, doll?”
“I’ve managed to sign a three-month lease on the Glasgow place, and I’m living in it now, but our chances of getting it for the location shoot are next to nil.”
“No way! How come?”
With measured words, she explained about Mark’s plans for the halfway house and his refusal to sell the property. “But I’m holding out hope for the possibility that his project runs into enough resistance from the locals to stall things for awhile. If it gets pushed back even a few months, we still might be able to do the shoot in time for the January deadline and keep the producers happy.”
“Good thinkin’. Meantime, I have an idea, too. Let’s dangle a carrot in front of his nose—an even larger sum he can’t refuse. Might convince him into taking his sweet little project somewhere else . . . what’s his plan again, a halfway house?”
“That’s right, Benny. A halfway house for some of his patients up at the psych hospital in the next town.” She paused, twisting the phone cord around her wrist. “So you’re saying you’d be willing to give Mark the higher price while at the same time, not cutting back on my pay?”
“Of course, doll! What are friends for, anyway?”
She smiled to herself. Good ol’ Benny. Now that I’m on my own, he seems to think he has to be my guardian angel.
“Besides,” he added, “I’m willing to negotiate whatever it’s gonna take. The big wigs here are breathing down my neck worse every day, and if I don’t come up with the goods, I just may be out of a job.”
She thought about what he’d just said. “Okay let’s go for it, but don’t be surprised if Mark Simons doesn’t bite. As I said, he’s on a deadline, too, and my gut feeling tells me that no amount of money will change his mind. He says he needs to have the new facility up and running by next spring—April, in fact—which means he wants to plow it down shortly after Wendy and I move out this fall.”
“Try pitching him a new price anyway. And getting back to what you just said about his plans getting stalled, see if you can’t help that along a little. Stir up some trouble yourself if you have to. Maybe one way or the other, something will work.”
At the sound of Benny’s words, she winced. Did she really want to pursue an all-out public battle with Mark? While her head told her that might be the necessary, her heart turned over with regret. No, she just couldn’t do that. He seemed such a good man. Then, too, he was only doing what he believed was right.
Pulling her thoughts back, she asked, “What price should I offer him?”
“Double it. Make it ten grand instead. No matter how you slice it, time’s running short. I’ll need some definites no later than the end of the summer.”
“And then what? Do you have another plan in mind in case he continues to refuse?”
“Isn’t there another house in town that looks a lot like the Glasgow place?” He answered her question with one of his own. “Another Victorian, maybe?”
She thought about it for a long moment. “There might be one or two, but I’ve barely had time to get settled, let alone look around for back-up property.”
“Well, if worse comes to worst, maybe I’ll have to run up there myself and give you a hand.”
“Sit tight for now, Benny. That probably won’t be necessary. Just give me a little more time, and I’m sure I’ll be able to take care of it myself.”
“Okey dokey. But take care of yourself, too, okay? You’ve been through too much this year.”
She chuckled. “You worry too much. I’m fine.”
After they’d signed off, Rebecca looked about the living room, fighting the gloom that threatened to settle down on her. Actually, she wasn’t fine. Being here back at the old Glasgow place was affecting her in ways she’d never anticipated. Every time she wandered about, especially downstairs where Galaxy Production had shot the indoor scenes, a fresh flood of memories washed over her. She could almost see August gazing at her from across the room, arms crossed, one hip slung lazily against the doorframe as he’d studied her assessingly during their first rehearsal. Oh yes, she could see his grin, so teasing, so endearing, and his blue, blue eyes the color of an angry sea. She could hear his laughter, too, filled with zest and vitality and feel his arms holding her. Yet oddly, whenever the memories surfaced, she felt emptier and more alone—not comforted, as she’d so desperately hoped.
Inhaling deeply, she tiptoed down the hallway to check on Wendy and Jodie. This time Jodie had slept over with Wendy, and the girls had giggled and talked until nearly two.
She peeked into the bedroom. Jodie appeared to be sleeping soundly in the second twin bed she’d ordered from the furniture store last week. With the covers pulled up to her chin, a half-smile curved her lips.
Across from her, looking equally contended, Wendy lay on her side with one arm flung against the wall, nearly touching a crescent moon on the wallpaper.
The window seat still lacked the cushions she and Wendy had talked about the day they’d moved in, but that would soon change. She’d promised to take both girls shopping later that afternoon at the outlet mall in Coves Junction, making the cushions a top priority. Now that she’d have two lively eight-year-olds in tow, the shopping would undoubtedly be twice the fun—and twice the commotion, she thought with amusement.
Rebecca checked her watch and decided to let them sleep a while longer. It was only ten, and they needed their sleep. Besides, at ten-thirty her first tour of the downstairs and front and back yards would begin.
She smiled, still lost in her thoughts, as she crossed the hall to her own bedroom to get ready. She changed quickly out of her denim jeans and t-shirt into a pair of khaki slacks and an ivory colored short-sleeved sweater, then added the final touches to her make-up. Despite her eagerness to get started with the tour, a knot of apprehension gnawed deep inside her. How could she try to be enthusiastic while she was so keenly mindful of what was in store for the house?
The group arrived, and she shoved her qualms to the back of her mind. The teenage thespians from the high school summer theater troupe were so eager and filled with questions, she soon found herself enjoying the tour as much as they were.
“So how do you know so much about the movie?” a girl with a black ponytail asked as they were getting ready to board back onto the bus that had brought them. “We saw the video before we came here, but you seem like you’re on the inside track somehow.”
Rebecca smiled at her directness. “I do. I landed a part as a last minute stand-in. I was just a couple of years older than you, I suspect.”
“Did you belong to the drama club when you were in high school?” one of the boys in the back row piped up.
“No, I was just lucky, I guess. My role involved strolling down that sidewalk.” She paused to point at it. “Through the artificial snow. I was dressed in a long dark green velvet coat with a white fur lining the hood and sleeves. Then I stopped in front of the gate leading up to the house, glanced up at the attic window and let out a cry, clasping my gloved hand over my mouth.”
“Did you have any lines?” their chaperone, a young woman a few years older than the teens, asked.
“Only a couple.” Without further prompting, Rebecca smiled again, tossed her head, and proclaimed theatrically, “‘Miss Pealance! Look! I just saw a woman in a white dressing gown in that uppermost chamber, but I fear she’s not an ordinary woman. Oh no, Miss Pealance, I'm certain she's of the spirit world. How can I ever retire
to rest tonight when I’ve been afflicted with such a ‘vision.’?”
“Cool!” the kids chorused.
The first girl cocked her head to one side and asked, “What did you say your name is again?”
“Rebecca Lorenzo.” She surprised herself she’d been so quick to reveal that. Perhaps being around these eager teens had somehow transported her back to her own youth, wiped away some of her inhibitions. Oh, to be so young and carefree again. It dawned on her how her grieving had made her feel so much older . . .
“Wait a minute!” the girl exclaimed, her eyes growing wide. “Didn’t you say your name is Rebecca Lorenzo? And wasn’t the lead actor’s name August Lorenzo?”
“Yes. In fact, we were married in the spring after we met--right here on this very property.”
“Wow! This is exactly where I’d want to get married some day, too,” the second girl put in. “It’s my favorite Victorian in this entire town. And I sure love all the beautiful old furniture inside.”
“First you’d better find a guy who will agree to have you!” one of the boys razzed her.
“Oh, shut up, Joe!” she shot back. A burst of laugher followed. “The point is,” she continued, tipping her chin, “I love this old house—and I sure hope nothing ever happens to it! In fact, I’ve heard rumors that it might get shut down. Is that true?”
Rebecca’s stomach dropped. “Uh . . . yes . . . I’m afraid you’re right—at least partly so.” These kids are old enough to know the truth. Soon the entire town will anyway. Inhaling deeply, she told them everything.
“We need to start a petition!” the girl with the ponytail proclaimed indignantly. “I mean, I’m not totally against a halfway house, but I think there could be a better place for it.”
“I second that!” the boy named Joe hollered.
A murmur of agreement rose up all about them.
“Okay, good!” the girl replied. “Come on, everyone! Let’s get back on the bus now and start planning our strategy!”
“I’ll take notes!” someone else volunteered. “In fact, we can start drawing up the petition right away.”
Rebecca didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Things were escalating so quickly. Besides, this was the very day Mark had planned on distributing the flyers. What if he and the teens met face-to-face? Hopefully they planned to go about their protest peacefully.
The tour group clambered back onto the bus and the door closed with a screech. From the side windows, Rebecca could see several kids waving and she waved back, trying hard not to let her concern over Mark show.
Talk about sticking your foot in your mouth, she thought with a sigh as she headed back to the house. Well, Rebecca, old girl. This time you did it up royally.
* * *
Sweat beaded Mark’s forehead. His feet ached. He had been walking steadily for at least the past four hours. Clad in a white polo shirt, Chino slacks, and his best pair of athletic shoes, he’d covered many square blocks and left close to one hundred flyers hanging on doorknobs.
Many of the neighbors had been busy working in their front yards, mowing lawns, trimming hedges, tending to flower beds, or washing cars. Some had even paused from their tasks to chat for a spell. He was encouraged by their seemingly positive reception. Others had smiled and waved, but gone on working. A few hadn’t acknowledged him at all.
In small neighborhood pockets here and there, he’d found no visible activity, no signs of life, but that really came as no surprise. Day trips were popular here on the coast, and undoubtedly many were taking advantage of the blue skies and sunshine. Then, too, it was the start of summer vacations. Ah, it had been ages since he’d taken a vacation himself.
Lord, he prayed as he trudged on. His thoughts mingled with the sound of his footfall. I’m feeling overwhelmed. Please help me keep my sights centered on your will for me, what you’ve called me to do.
Do not be discouraged, my faithful son. Your work will be rewarded. Keep your sights fixed on the goal ahead, your heavenly reward. Stay faithful to your calling.
Feeling a bit encouraged, he came to the end of the block and took the crosswalk to the other side. White clapboard Craftsmen homes and dark-bricked Tudor English dwellings with high-pitched roofs stood amidst stately Victorians with covered front porches. Tidy lawns, green with the newness of summer, dozed lazily beneath the mottled shade of elm, oak, and maple. The sound of a tugboat’s baritone horn wafted up from the river. A jet droned overhead.
Back to where I first started, he thought, scanning his gaze from one house to the next. He could still see many of the brochures hanging where he’d left them. They’ll be taken down and read soon, he quickly reassured himself. No later than evening, hopefully.
Ignoring the hunger pangs inside his stomach, he drew nearer to
Marine View Drive where he’d left his car. As he walked faster, the Lexus came into view. He also spied Rebecca and Wendy and another girl about Wendy’s age, he guessed, piling into Rebecca’s Saturn on the other side of the street. He heard their shouts of excitement, their squeals of laughter. “Rebecca! Wendy!” He waved and quickened his pace. “Hold on! Don’t go yet.”
Any excuse to spend a few moments with Rebecca again! Any reason to feel the radiance of her smile.
But wait! He stopped cold in his tracks and blinked with disbelief. How could it be? They’d just slammed their car doors shut, and Rebecca had started up the engine. The windows appeared to be rolled up tight as a drum. Apparently they hadn’t seen or heard him, and most likely, wouldn’t. Disappointment swamped him. His efforts had been for nothing.
“Drat!” he muttered to himself. “Better luck next time, Simons.”
But as he resumed walking, he looked again at the car and realized it hadn’t moved an inch. It sounded, too, as if the engine had gone quiet.
His pulse quickened. Maybe he had a chance to catch up yet.
Chapter Five
“After we pick out the cushions for my bedroom, Mama, can we go to a movie?” Wendy asked. She and Jodie were wriggling into the backseat of the Saturn while Rebecca rummaged through her purse for her car keys. If August were able to know that she sometimes left her car parked, unlocked, he’d probably remind her that wasn’t safe, she thought with mild amusement. Still, this was Freemont, not L.A. Safe, old-fashioned Freemont where, back when she was growing up, most people didn’t dream of locking their doors. Car doors or the doors to their homes.
“A movie? Sure! Let’s see what’s playing at the cinema down the highway when we drive that way,” she answered as she took her place at the driver’s seat. “Hopefully there’s something we’ll all enjoy.” So yes, why not make a full day of it? It would be fun for all three of them.
Jodie’s voice squeaked from directly behind her. “Guess what, Auntie Becca? Mom gave me money to go out for pizza, if there’s time. She said it’ll be our treat!”
Rebecca chuckled. A full day indeed! “Well, wasn’t that nice of her? Okay, we’ll party hearty and go for pizza, also. Now fasten your seatbelts, you two.” Rebecca turned the key in the ignition. The engine gave a cough and a sputter, then went silent. The sound resembled an asthmatic cow—or at least, what Rebecca imagined one might sound like. She turned the key again. On the third try, there was still nothing.
“Oh, no! This can’t be happening!” Wendy cried. “Not when we need to go shopping.”
“And what about our pizza?” Jodie asked in a small voice.
Summoning her patience, Rebecca determined to keep trying. “Hold on, girls. We’ll think of something,” she said. She bit her lip. The girls had been more than patient while they’d waited for her to finish the tour earlier. She just couldn’t disappoint them now.
But as many times as Rebecca tried to coax the engine to start, she got nowhere. She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. Now what? The closest bus stop was only two blocks away, yet she knew nothing about its route. Chances were it went nowhere near the mall.
She straightened, glanced ou
t her side window, and noticed Mark crossing the street in their direction. His strides were sure and purposeful—so much like his demeanor, she mused. He looked more handsome than ever. He must be out distributing the flyers. The memory of having planted the seed for the petition against the halfway house caused a stab of guilt to shoot through her. And worse, she wondered, would that seed bear fruit?
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she patted her hair into place, then glanced into the overhead mirror and noticed her eyeliner was a bit smudged. Too late now.
In no time, the girls had spied Mark also.
“Mr. Simons! Mr. Simons!” Wendy called through her opened window. “Mama’s got a problem. Our car won’t start and my cousin Jodie and I are supposed to go shopping.”
“And out for pizza and a movie,” Jodie added with a whine.
“Girls.” Rebecca’s low voice echoed a warning note. “This isn’t necessary. We can handle this ourselves.”
“But Mama!” Wendy protested. “Mr. Simons is such a nice man. He’ll help us!”
It was too late to argue.
“So what’s going on here?” he asked with a lopsided grin as he leaned casually into Rebecca’s window. His sudden nearness caught her off-guard, made her heart beat out a rapid tattoo.
“I only wish I knew.”
“Dead battery, maybe?”
“I doubt it. I just bought a new one before we made the trip up here.”
“Release your hood. Let me take a look.” He sent her an apologetic look. “I have to admit, though, I’m not nearly as good at diagnosing sick cars as I am sick people.”
Rebecca did as he’d asked, then they all clambered out of the car and stood close by, waiting anxiously.
“This is my cousin Jodie!” Wendy said, beaming.
Mark thrust out his hand. “Hello, Jodie! It’s great to meet you.”
She answered with a shy smile and a quick shake of his hand.
“Are you a doctor, Mr. Simons?” Wendy asked. Her fascination with Mark Simons was all too transparent.
A House Divided Page 6
