One for the Hooks

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One for the Hooks Page 4

by Betty Hechtman


  He took my hand. “But enough about work. It’s time for us, and I have a surprise for you.”

  Chapter Five

  “You have me puzzled,” Dinah said. “I’m trying to read your expression, but I can’t tell if you look happy or dazed. It must have been quite a night with Mason.”

  It was Wednesday and we were standing outside Shedd &Royal, waiting for the rest of the crew who were going to accompany me to check out the yarn that Sloan had talked about. I realized that I had been staring off into space, probably with a strange expression.

  “It was definitely a hot time with Mason. This work he’s doing has given him a recharge in all aspects of his life.” I knew I was blushing a little, and glanced at Dinah out of the corner of my eye. “And then in the midst of everything, he said we ought to bet married. Of course, typical Mason, he made it funny, offering to get on bended knee and do a formal proposal. I laughed it off, but I wonder what he would have come up with if I’d said I wanted the whole show.”

  “What?” Dinah said, her head jerking up straight. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “Now,” I said with a laugh.

  “But didn’t he always say he didn’t want to get married again? And I know you told him you felt the same way.”

  “I’m telling you, he’s like a different person. He said he feels like a young crusading attorney.”

  “What did you say?” The wind caught Dinah’s long scarf of the day, and she had to pull the white silk away from her face.

  “It was a total surprise and caught me completely off guard. Though I have been thinking about what it would like to be a grandmother, which feels like being sidetracked from the action somehow. I could see how the idea of a new beginning could be appealing. But it was way too much to deal with at once. I never understood how people could say they had to think about a proposal, but now I get it. I guess when I was younger, I never considered the consequences. And that’s what I told him—that I’d have to think about it.”

  “How’d he take it?” Dinah asked.

  “He’s a lawyer, so he tried to argue his case.” I chuckled. “He presented a pretty compelling argument. He wasn’t just proposing marriage but asking me to join him so we could work as a team on the Second Chance Projects. A lot of the work is hunting down evidence and talking to people. Mason said I was a natural for that with my detective skills. He said once I worked on one case, I’d be hooked. He’s probably right. The cases he’s worked on were people who had no means to defend themselves and were convicted with faulty evidence. He said we’d be like Nick and Nora Charles, or the Hart to Hart couple.”

  “Were either of the men lawyers?” Dinah asked with a laugh. “Sorry for being picky.”

  “I think his point is that we’d be legendary.” My expression dimmed. “But as appealing as it sounds doing something so meaningful, it would cause a total upheaval of my life. I couldn’t come and go the way he does and keep my position at the bookstore, though Adele would probably be thrilled about that. Then she could finally get the job she thought she deserved. And I’d be only a sometime visitor to the Hooker gatherings.” I looked at my friend. “And if I was gone so much, there would go all our girls’ nights and playing Sherlock Holmes and getting into trouble.”

  “You wouldn’t be gone all the time. I’m sure we’d manage to keep having our girls’ nights. We’d just have to make the most of it when you were here.”

  “He suggested I move in with him while I thought about it since Peter is staying at my place.”

  “What did you say to that?

  I shook my head in answer, maybe a little too vigorously. “A big no. To me that would be like saying yes. I’m old-fashioned that way. I’m not going to live with someone unless a wedding is in the works, and Mason knows that.”

  “Too bad—you and Peter could have a double wedding,” Dinah teased. Then she got serious. “You should think about it, though.”

  “I will. I’m sure Mason will keep pleading his case—at a distance. He went back to Kansas early this morning.”

  Just then Adele came out of the bookstore. She seemed full of purpose and was talking to the screen of her phone. I elbowed Dinah and put a finger to my lips to shush her. The last thing I wanted was for Adele to know there was a chance I might be leaving the bookstore.

  She was still talking as she reached us. “Friends, I’m taking you along on a yarn adventure,” Adele said in a melodramatic voice. She was really stretching it. It was hardly an adventure; we were just going to check out some yarn which was probably moth-eaten, had a bad smell, or was so out of date that nobody would want it. It was funny how tastes changed. Colors that looked so good at one time seemed dated and garish at another time.

  Adele continued talking while modeling her tank dress made out of granny squares, but instead of the usual black yarn around the colorful sections, she’d used white yarn. Adele was known for her outfits. They were either heavily crocheted or actual costumes that she wore for story time. Her height and ample size made everything she wore even more of a standout.

  Elise was the last one to join us. No matter what she’d said about helping me make a deal for the yarn, I knew she was really going along in her position as a real estate agent. The giveaway was her briefcase.

  “I thought we could all go together,” I said, but Adele objected.

  “I’ll drive with Elise. Give her the address,” she said. I quickly scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to our yarn buddy.

  “I know that house,” she said, her wispy voice rising in interest. “It used to belong to a family named Perkins. Elsie Perkins was the last one and lived there alone. She died recently and her niece inherited it. I’m sure I sent her a postcard expressing interest in helping her sell the house, but Sloan must have gone there in person. Some people think that’s too pushy.” Elise sounded defensive.

  “I don’t know what arrangement Sloan has with her,” I said.

  “So then you don’t know if it’s on the market already?”

  Adele started walking to her car and waved for Elise to follow.

  “It’s easier without them,” Dinah said as we got into the Greenmobile. I told her where we were headed.

  “Just keep your eyes out for Starlight Court,” I said. I knew basically where we were going, which wasn’t that far from my house. The topography of Tarzana was varied because of the proximity of the Santa Monica Mountains. Even in the more level areas, ridges appeared like fingers making steep hillsides and streets that were a mystery to me after all these years of living in the San Fernando Valley community.

  Starlight Court turned out to be a cul-de-sac. Up close it appeared to be level, but just behind it the ground rose up into a steep ridge ribboned with houses.

  I pulled to the curb of the short street and looked around. A man and a boy were sitting on the curb, racing remote-control cars. The man looked up at us and offered a cold stare that made me feel uncomfortable.

  “What’s that about?” I said, trying not to stare back.

  “People on cul-de-sacs feel like they own the street. He probably views us as invaders in his space,” my friend said. As if on cue, the man and boy grabbed the toys and went into the house at the end of the street.

  “I’m sure you’re right, but I’m glad he’s gone,” I said, letting out my breath. “It’s silly, but I felt like he was going to come up and pound on the window, demanding we leave.” I looked at the address painted on the curb and saw that we were parked in front of the right house. “We might as well wait in the car for Adele,” I said. In the meantime, we can play our Sherlock Holmes game. Let’s see what we can deduce.” I gestured to the five houses in front us. We eliminated the very first house since that was the one we were going to. I pointed to the one next to it. “What do you think?”

  “You go first,” Dinah said. I looked over all of the houses again and thought of them as a whole. “They were probably built at the same time.” I gave all my att
ention to the house we were starting with. It was a pale blue ranch style and seemed well kept up but plain compared to the other houses.

  “I’d call that one the Original,” I said. “I bet that is similar to the way they all looked when they were built. And I bet the original owners live in it.”

  “Which means they’re older and their kids are grown,” Dinah said. She turned her gaze to the next house, located at the end of the street. “We already know something about that one since that’s the one that Mr. Friendly and the boy went into. I’m assuming the kid was his son.” This house was painted bright white. A second story appeared over the roofline and had clearly been added on. Black shutters decorated the front windows, and the front walkway was made of bricks.

  “I’d call that one the All-American,” I said, then realized I’d stepped on Dinah’s turn.

  “And the family has a daughter.” She pointed to the pink bicycle lying on the front lawn.

  “I hope she’s friendlier than they were.”

  I took the next house. It was a softer white, as if not so newly painted. “I think an addition was put on the front,” I said, pointing out that, unlike the other houses, it had an L shape in the front. “And by the four cars in the driveway, I’d deduce it’s a family with older kids.”

  “And your name for it,” Dinah asked.

  “The Parking Lot,” I said with a chuckle. We both looked at the last house, which was directly across the street from the one we were going to. It was stucco, painted a soft mustard color, with a dark tiled roof. A portico had been added to the front door. A number of advertising flyers lay in front of the door.

  “I’d call it Colonel Mustard,” I said. “And my guess is that nobody’s been home for a while.” I heard a car turn into the street. “Finally,” I said. We opened the doors and got out.

  Adele and Elise were sucking on smoothies as they joined us, making it obvious why they’d taken so long. “Which house is it?” Adele asked.

  I pointed to the yellow wood frame house in front of us. Instead of a lawn, it had ivy growing in the front. A wooden sign stuck in the ground said “Holiday House.”

  “What’s that?” Dinah said, looking at a cardboard sign attached to a street sign near the house. We hadn’t been able to see it from inside the car.

  “It’s probably a lost dog,” I said. I always checked lost dog signs so I could be on the lookout. But when I got closer, it wasn’t a lost pet sign at all. It said: “This is a street for families. Short-term renters aren’t welcome here.” As I glanced around at the houses on the short street, I had the feeling we were being watched. I wanted to look at the yarn and get out of there.

  I led the way up a stepping-stone path to the house. I could hear Adele talking into the camera on her phone about the great yarn mystery she was about to uncover. “Listen to her,” I said to Dinah. “She’s trying to make it sound like Al Capone’s vault.

  “Maybe she doesn’t remember how that turned out,” Dinah said, shaking her head. I chuckled to myself, remembering the big hype and how, when the vault was opened, there was nothing in it but some trash.

  Just as I was about to ring the bell, another car pulled to the curb and Sloan got out. She raced up the walkway to catch up with us, doing a double take when she saw how many people I’d brought with me. Adele got the longest perusal. The granny-square dress was eye catching, and it seemed like Adele was talking to herself while admiring her image in her cell phone. It was always a mistake to let Adele come along.

  “These are my yarn experts,” I said by way of an explanation. Sloan took the lead. I followed her, with the rest of my crew straggling behind me.

  Sloan knocked on the front before opening it with a key, and we trooped inside. We walked into an airy open space with a vaulted ceiling. It ended with several sliding glass doors that led to a patio and an expanse of lawn. A guesthouse sat near the back of the yard.

  The furniture was ornate and didn’t look very comfortable. There was a lot of it, and it had all been pushed together into the middle of the room. I noticed a table lamp with a curved shade, and several glass cases filled with figurines. A woman who looked to be in her twenties appeared from somewhere and came to stand with Sloan. She had curly dark hair and sharp features.

  I smiled and put out my hand. “I’m Molly Pink and this is Adele Abrams, Dinah Lyons, and Elise Belmont.” I pointed to each of them as I gave their names, and they gave her a nod.

  “You here about the yarn, right?” she said, and I nodded. “I’m Miami Wintergarten.” I couldn’t help but do a double take at her name. She threw me a pointed glare.

  “When you have idiot parents who give you a loser name like Bertha, which sounds like sleeping quarters on a train, you have to take matters into your own hands.”

  Elise pushed her way to the front of the group. “Are you the owner?”

  The young woman seemed surprised by the question. “Yes. I am now.” Her lips curved into a pleased smile.

  “But you’re selling it?” Elise asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sloan’s expression darken.

  “That’s really not your concern,” Sloan said.

  “I just wondered,” Elise began. “I thought if you were, I might have a buyer for it.” It was a quick save on Elise’s behalf. I knew she was trying to find out if Sloan was the listing agent.

  “Well, it’s not for sale or going to be for sale,” Miami said with a lift in her voice. “Thanks to Sloan.”

  Sloan smiled at the praise and patted the young woman on the shoulder. “Once I understood what Miami wanted, I helped her come up with a solution.”

  The young woman interrupted. “I really want to keep this place while I build my career.”

  “Maybe we should just let them look at the yarn,” Sloan said.

  “Let me guess,” Elise said with a knowing expression. “You want to be an actor.”

  “Ha,” Miami said. “I already am. Perhaps you saw me as the girl on the bus in Everybody Loves Bob or the caterer in Mila’s Wedding. I added my own touches to the parts. I blew a kiss to the bus driver, and I threw in my own catch phrase when I played the caterer. I made my characters memorable even if they only had a line or two.”

  I’d heard of the show and the TV movie but had no memory of the characters she mentioned. I smiled and nodded anyway.

  “Those were just stepping-stones to my real goal, but it’s thanks to Sloan and her entertainment business contacts that I found a more direct route.” Sloan tried to dissuade her from continuing, but the young woman had an audience and seemed determined to perform.

  She started laughing and waving her arms around. “I want you and you and you all to have yarn.” Her voice was emphatic and loud before her expression abruptly grew somber and her delivery changed. “I know you will find a positive use for that yarn, saving it so it doesn’t end up in a landfill.” Then she walked up to each of us. “I will fight with the last of my strength to see that that yarn will go on to be part of something great.” She stopped and looked at us expectantly. I could only speak for myself, but I wasn’t sure what she was doing. She must have picked up on our collective blank looks.

  “I want to be a personality. I was demonstrating my abilities. Didn’t you get it? I did my impression of Oprah giving cars to her audience, then I was showing my crusader side, and finally I was being an inspiration. There’s so much work for personalities now with all the game shows on. I could be a host or on the celebrity panel. Sloan came up with the idea of me trying out to be a contestant on game shows to get myself in front of the right people. Being a contestant would give me a chance to show off my personality.”

  She started jumping up and down and yelling “I won! I won!” and then rushed around, hugging each of us. When she got back, she turned off the enthusiasm like a faucet. “In no time I‘ll be able to afford the mortgage on this place, but Sloan showed me a way I can live here now and get the place to be a cash cow.”

  She looked to S
loan. “Tell them.”

  Sloan seemed uncomfortable with all the attention. “You probably can’t tell from here, but the house has a C shape. One wing has four bedrooms, and there’s a guesthouse in the back, all of which could easily be used for short-term rentals. There’s a wing coming off the kitchen that has a full bath and a large room that Miami has kept as her private living space. I’m helping her get the place cleared out, and then we’ll furnish the rental spaces.”

  “She’s going to make them look so great,” Miami said. “Sloan’s a genius set decorator. It was her idea to put up the sign in the front so we can get photos and put up “Coming soon” postings on the apps we’re using. She knew just the way to do the sign so that it would give the impression it’s a fun place to stay.” She looked over the group of us, and her gaze stopped on Adele.

  “Don’t mind her. She’s a crochet influencer and gathering stuff for her vlog.”

  Adele realized we were talking about her and stopped taping. “I’m afraid Molly didn’t fully introduce me,” she said. Do you know how many followers I have?”

  Adele had my interest because I was curious about her answer. I was a little stunned when she said it was in the five figures.

  “Feel free to tape anything you want to,” Miami said. “Just be sure to mention Holiday House and that we will have rooms available soon.”

  “Let’s get to why you’re here,” Sloan said, directing us to follow her. “The yarn is in the guesthouse.” She opened the sliding glass door, and we all went outside. Once we crossed the covered patio, I saw what she meant about the house being a squared kind of C shape. I checked out the yard, trying to orient myself, and noted that it was wider than I expected, but not as deep. The side fencing was hidden behind tall bushes, and just beyond the guesthouse a wood fence ran along the back of the property.

 

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