Chapter Sixteen

 

 

Eight was way too early to be meeting Veronica downtown--especially since Jack’s truck was parked in the empty lot next door and, having not yet had coffee, I wasn’t ready to face him. I’d been in too much of a hurry to get out of the house and avoid the latest squabble between Mama and DeLorean to take time out for coffee and now I was deeply regretting my haste.

Apparently Mama had decided my sister should cut her hair into a short, sassy bob that would look “ever so much more stylish and more suited to the hot weather of the South,” and DeLorean had decided that South or not, how she wore her hair was her own business. They’d tried to get me to take sides. I’d held up my hands, protested lateness, an impending headache, and a bad hair day. They were still bickering when I scooted out the door.

Veronica was dressed in a navy business suit and a frilly, low-cut, white blouse. Her gold earrings and matching necklace were equally stylish. She’d had her hair done and if there was a strand out of place, I couldn’t see it. I, on the other hand, had pulled my hair back with a couple of clips to get it off my face. Mama had made a remark about me needing to learn to French braid, and I’d replied that I lacked the hair styling gene and that’s when she’d turned her hairdo advice on DeLorean. I’d slipped into office casual--freshly ironed slacks and yellow cotton blouse, light make-up, low heeled leather shoes. Practical, comfortable, and why hadn’t I thought to dress like Veronica?

“Going to a business luncheon?” I asked.

Veronica glanced down and smoothed her skirt. A tiny smile of satisfaction played around her bee stung lips--product of the collagen injections she’d gotten last month. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

“You look especially pretty today.” She could have been a beauty queen if she’d been a few inches taller and didn’t mind offering insipid answers to stupid questions thought up by pageant judges.

“Thanks.” She didn’t return the compliment, not that I deserved it. But still. “I’m going to show you around first, and then you can start. I’ve fixed you an office in the front--computer, phone, fax. You’ll love it. I know you can’t wait to get started.”

I peered around cautiously and was relieved to see no sign of Jack. Of course, I wanted to try to get him to understand, to let him know I hoped to continue our friendship. I just didn’t want Veronica around to hear what I had to say.

“Come on,” she said, waving her hand in hurry up motions. “I’m running late. First a quick tour of the finished section. We can’t go in the construction area, though. It isn’t safe.”

“Good. I mean, good idea, we wouldn’t want to fall through the floor or anything.” Or run into Jack.

After a whirlwind tour of the front of the house, I came away with an impression of your typical antebellum Charleston house. Sweeping staircase, hardwood floors, grand chandelier. Modern touches such as electricity and bathroom added later, of course. If there were ghosts in the house, I didn’t hear or see them. I hoped the tourists would have better luck. Otherwise I’d feel like a fraud.

Veronica showed me to a well-lighted, beautifully restored room at the front of the house. “This is the parlor, but for now it’s your office. Help yourself to anything you need. After the construction is finished, you can move up to the third floor--there’s a huge room up there with a fabulous view.”

Apparently sensing my faint misgivings, she added, “Don’t worry, Susan. This business is going to take off and you’ll do great.”

“I’m counting on it. And, Veronica, thanks for giving me a chance. You’re a super person and a really good friend.” I meant every word. If it weren’t for her, I’d be spending the morning at the unemployment office, waiting in line and hoping that I could still draw a check, even though Odell had pretty much fired me.

“I’m the one thanking you.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’ve finally recovered from your divorce. I’ve been really worried about you for the longest time. I mean, you’re always too willing to carry the world on your shoulders. Put some of the blame on T. Chandler where it belongs instead of taking all the responsibility on yourself. Takes two, remember?”

My face flushed. She’d told me the same thing a million times since I’d gotten divorced, which didn’t make me feel one bit better. I’d read somewhere that people who are overly responsible and self-sacrificing are really egotists who are simply engaged in a big power grab. Not exactly flattering. I didn’t like to think of myself as a big power grabber.

“Could we please change the subject?” Like a little kid begging for another bowl of ice cream I shot her a quick smile and then stared down at my feet, barely resisting an impulse to dig my toe into the floor.

“Silly. Of course we can. You know when you called and told me you were going to look for a better job, I could tell by your voice you’d finally started to wake up and move into the future. Perfect, I thought, just in time for my ghost tours. I’ll let Susan handle it.”

Apparently the same thought that everyone in my family had. Often. And at the same time. Must be something to do with the collective unconscious I’d learned about in a book Patty gave me for my birthday.

For the next few minutes, Veronica flitted around like a demented sparrow, pointing out the location of anything I might need, while I kept nodding and saying “great.” Almost as an afterthought, she slid open a drawer and pulled out another thick packet--this one about the house’s history. Photos were included. She glanced at her watch, let out a shriek, and flew out the door, leaving me in my brand new office, which included a mini fridge. I allowed myself a smile of satisfaction. Despite my doubts about ghost hunting tours, the workplace made Odell’s shop look like a slum.

A coffeepot beckoned from a table under the window. I made a fresh pot and settled in to sort through the stack of photos.

I hadn’t done anything like this, not since my college days when I’d handled the paperwork and advertising for Veronica’s gift basket business, but the actual work was easy. The research I needed had been included in the packet and all I had to do was organize it and pull it together into a condensed version.

Occasionally I glanced out the window. The view from the front window was not, like the view from the pawnshop, a parking lot in a seedy looking neighborhood. Instead I could see a brick mansion and a well-tended yard across the street. Traffic was steady, but even the car noises and the steady clop of horses’ hooves as they passed by pulling carriages weren’t enough to distract me.

I even forgot that Jack was in the building. Kind of. Until he sauntered into my office and asked to use the phone.

I glanced up from my monitor to see him standing barely inside the doorway as if he intended to cut and run should I react like a cornered bear defending its cubs. “Give me a second and I’ll go in the other room while you make your call.” I sounded so prim I even disgusted myself.

“That’s okay. It’s not private.” He strode over to the phone, picked up the receiver, and punched in a number.

Still uncertain about whether I should leave, I turned back to my work. I heard him tell someone he had to run home and change first or he might get thrown out of the place. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt and jeans, both of them showing signs of having spent hours in close proximity to a construction site. There were even a few strands of puffy pink insulation dotting the top of his head.

He hung up. “Thanks. My cell phone’s dead. It does that whenever I forget to charge the battery.”

No wonder he hadn’t returned my call. I stood and put both hands on my desk. No time like now, before I lost my nerve. “Jack--I’m sorry about the other night. The last thing I wanted was to leave you and run home to deal with Mama and DeLorean.”

“You do what you have to do just like all the rest of the world.” He shrugged.

“That’s right. I’m glad you understand.”

“Sure, I get it. I guess I always did.” He stared at his watch. His expression was pretty much blank. “Is that all? I’m meeting Veronica for a business lunch and I have to run home and get cleaned up first.”

My lips tightened and my mood plummeted toward my feet. He didn’t understand at all, damn it.

“Jack, wait.” I had so much to say. Such as, maybe I was a little slow or maybe it was because I was the late bloomer Mama always said I was, but I’d figured out since he came back to town that I was crazy about him. And I hoped he felt the same way now that he’d broken up with Kelly. Or I could tell him that I wanted him to take me back to his new house and this time I promised to turn off my cell phone and give him my undivided attention. Or that I wanted to be friends the way we used to be in high school—buddies, pals, anything I could get. Except I couldn’t say any of those things because this time I didn’t feel I was entirely to blame. A surge of something close to anger rose in my chest. People have families and sometimes the families need them. Friends who don’t understand that aren’t really friends.

Jack raised an eyebrow and after a minute or so of us staring at each other like a couple of dogs facing off over a bowl of scraps, I ended the awkward silence by saying crisply, “You have insulation in your hair.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t move to brush it away. “Catch you later.”

A quick wave and he was gone. I sat for a long time, staring at the wall where Veronica had hung a calendar with our opening date circled in red. I was proud of myself for not crawling to Jack and begging forgiveness. I hadn’t done anything wrong and if he didn’t understand that, too bad.

I eventually decided to go out for a sandwich. The weather was perfect, one of those crisp, extra sunny fall days, so I walked to a deli a couple of blocks away and ordered chicken salad on whole wheat.

The food looked good, but I shouldn’t have wasted the money. Even with two glasses of iced tea, my sandwich went down like shredded cardboard. Not surprising. Who wouldn’t be stressed out starting a new job?

With plenty of time left and no desire to rush back to Blackthorn House, I wandered over to Marion Square and sat on a bench. A pleasant breeze blew off the harbor. Squirrels chased each other across the grass and a flock of wrens hopped around pecking at the ground.

I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my face while I listened to the birds chirp. Eventually my cell phone played its little tune, and I slowly came back to earth. I dragged the phone out of my pocket, determined to find the will to not answer if it was DeLorean or Mama. I checked the caller ID. Patty.

Patty was okay. Patty hadn’t done anything to ruin my life lately, though the blind date with Herman was questionable.

I cautiously said, “Hello.”

“Susan! You’ll never guess.” She hadn’t sounded this excited since the cards told her Kyle was going to propose before the end of the year.

“Probably not, so go ahead and tell me and that will eliminate a lot of wasted time.”

“The man is going down in flames, I guarantee it.”

I frowned. “Odell?” We’d often talked about what would happen if one of Odell’s loan customers came to the pawnshop to try to get his stuff back after Odell sold it. But I never thought Patty was serious when she said she’d love to witness some oversized redneck kicking Odell’s ass from Mount Pleasant clear over to Ashley.

“Not Odell, you poor confused woman. You aren’t the least bit psychic are you?”

“Well, no, but I have many other good qualities. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

“It’s Philip Beauchamp. The ex-lover. I knew the businesswoman friend would work you like a galley slave and you wouldn’t have the time. I made the calls for you while Odell was at lunch with his beloved niece. They went to a special at one of those eat till you drop places, so I knew I was safe. You should have seen them when they waddled back to work. I swear, Susan, they literally looked like they were going to burst out of their clothes. You know, the way sausages crack out of their skins when they’re fried.”

“Thanks for that image. Now what were you going to tell me?” If I didn’t redirect her, she’d spend the afternoon talking about the Hoganboom family and their feeding habits.

“Meet me at the pawnshop after work. I have exactly what you need.”

“What I need? My very own deck of tarot cards? Another blind date? Don’t do me any more favors this week--my nervous system can’t take it.”

“Philip’s location, silly. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’ll go with you to confront him. You’ll be glad you have me along for moral support and I can threaten to put a spell on him. Not that I would, of course. It’s wrong to control someone’s will with magic.”

Right, but it was perfectly okay to threaten people with magic to cow them into submission. Maybe if I donned a witch costume and carried a broom, I could scare Philip myself and cut out the middlewoman.

“Hold up a minute, Patty. I’m positive Philip Beauchamp wouldn’t be frightened off by magic, even if I decided to sic you on him.”

“You never know. People are generally afraid of the unknown. He might get worried enough to back off and then we’d be heroes.”

Yeah, no doubt she figured he’d be so scared he’d run all the way back to Arkansas whimpering like a whipped dog. I shook my head. She’d gotten way too involved in her tarot if she thought she could influence Philip so easily.

“Forget about going after him. I’ll call a lawyer and have him deal with Philip. Besides I won’t have time to go anywhere after work since I promised to let my sister use the van. And DeLorean barely knows how to boil water and with her ankle, Mama is in no shape to cook. She’ll lecture me for days if she has to hunker up to the stove on a stool from the breakfast bar to fix her own supper.”

“Stop arguing and listen to what I’m saying. Your mother will be so grateful, she’ll forget all about the inconvenience. Damn. Wait a minute.”

I heard Patty ring up a customer, murmuring something about “nice stereo except for that big crack in the side.” Then she was back on the line. “I figured Philip might be up to his old tricks. About fake marrying, I mean. So I used up my last free search. If I need another one before the end of the year, you can pay for it, okay?”

“Sure, no problem.” I watched a pigeon lift off from the statue of John C. Calhoun in the front of the square and dive bomb out of the sky to scatter the wrens.

“Anyway, I was right. About Philip marrying. Only this time he might be married for real, and I called Lurlene and checked and he’s still married to her. If the second marriage is real, it’s bigamy, Susan. Bigamy.”

“You called Lurlene?” I rose half off the bench and then plopped back down like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Why not? I’m always willing to help other people solve their problems, you know that.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it help in Lurlene’s case. She might be better off living in blissful ignorance.” I jumped to my feet and started pacing in circles around my bench.

There wasn’t a chance that Philip would continue to threaten Mama now. He’d be too busy trying to stay away from Lurlene. At least I hoped so. “But that gives me all the more reason to let a lawyer deal with him.”

“You said he gave your mother until Wednesday to pay up. That’s tomorrow.”

“I know when it is, Patty. I’ll call someone before I leave work today.” I could phone Lawrence Lee Little, my divorce attorney. He should be able to advise me on what to do about Philip. Mama could have done the same thing, instead of worrying herself sick that Philip would make good on his promise to tell all. But she hadn’t, so it had become my chore.

“Are you sure you want to wait? I’ve always found that the sooner you deal with ex lovers to get them out of your life, the better.”

“I’m sure. One more thing--do me a favor and stop calling Philip my mama’s ex lover. She really thought she was married to him. Mama is the last person in the world who would take a lover or even think about taking a lover.”

“That’s right, your mother is all church isn’t she?”

“She’s religious, yes.” I slung my purse over my arm. I had barely enough time to return to work before my hour was up. “Patty, thanks. I’ll call my lawyer and let you know what happens.”

When I got back, Jack was still out. I called and left a message for Mr. Little and turned to my computer, burying myself in fact and legend about Charleston and the Blackthorn House, somehow managing to weave the two together into a tightly written narrative while I ignored the sounds of hammering and sawing coming from upstairs.

I finished the brochure before the end of the workday and it was a real feat as far as I was concerned. It’s hard to write with personal thoughts trying to intrude on your work. And it’s even more hard to forget your problems and focus when you have an ex best friend who’s trying to control how you feel about your family. People aren’t saints, me especially.

At least I’d taken action on Mama’s problem—if you could call leaving a message with my attorney action. I figured if Lawrence Little didn’t get back to me by four o’clock, I’d call him again.

Jack’s lunch lasted more than two hours. Not that I was keeping track on purpose, but I did have that big front window and who could blame me for using it? Finally I saw him drive back into the parking lot and a minute later I heard him come in the front door. He didn’t stop by to say hello. In fact, I didn’t see him again until it was almost time for me to leave work for the day.

Veronica wandered in about ten minutes before quitting time. She’d changed her clothes and now she was wearing a sapphire colored silk dress that matched her contact lenses of the day. I’d admired the same dress in the window of a little boutique on King Street. The boutique didn’t have my size, but that was okay, I didn’t have the price they were asking unless I wanted to eat nothing but crackers and water for a month. Too bad. It would have looked pretty on me, would have minimized the slight bulges on my hips. On Veronica it looked stunning.

“Hi, Susan. Did you finish placing the ads?”

“I’m working on that tomorrow. I have a rough draft of the brochure ready and as soon as I have your approval, it goes to the printers.”

“Already? Fantastic.” She came around to my side of the desk, and I moved aside to let her read through my work. When she finished, she turned to me, nodding and smiling. “I wouldn’t change a word. Send it like this and use at least four photos. After you finish the ads, I’ll need you to write up a press release and set up interviews. I won’t have time for those, so the media will have to talk to you.”

Right. The media. Veronica was going all out, but then I could have predicted she’d be a whiz at publicity. I pictured myself on the local cable channel and the radio. It certainly beat working for Odell Hoganboom.

But despite having buried myself in work all afternoon, I couldn’t entirely get Jack out of my mind. Either that or I had some need to torment myself.

“So,” I said, “now that we’ve got the topic of publicity out of the way, how was your lunch with Jack?”

“Lovely. He really is nice and a great conversationalist.” She whipped a little mirror out of her purse and held it up to her face to inspect her makeup. “We went to that new seafood place that everyone’s talking about.”

My personal torment session was going nicely. Hearing the details of Veronica’s lunch date with Jack completely took away any sense of joy or accomplishment I might have had over my success with the brochure. My stomach sank a few inches lower and a little vein in the side of my head started pulsing like a miniature heart.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” I said, “how’s your boyfriend? Walter--isn’t that his name?”

She patted her hair. “Walter’s probably fine. At least he was last time I checked.” Then she returned the mirror to her purse, drew out a lip gloss, and touched up her already perfect lips. “I haven’t spoken to him in a week. First I was out of town, then he left for Munich on business. He tried to play phone tag, but I’ve been too tied up with this place and with a deal I have going with office space over in Ashley to get around to catching up with Walter.”

Really? You would have thought she could have taken time out of her two-hour lunch with Jack to call her boyfriend. Even I had taken time out of lunch for a phone call. Only of course I didn’t have a boyfriend or an imaginary boyfriend or even—now that Jack had decided I was too attached to my family to be worthy of his attention—a friend who was a guy.

“Anyway,” she went on before I could decide whether to say I was sorry about Walter, “I guess I’d better let you out of here. Eight again tomorrow, okay?”

I assured Veronica I’d be back at eight, gathered my purse, and found I couldn’t leave because Jack was standing in the doorway. “Hi,” he said in my direction. Then, turning to Veronica, he said, “The crew’s done with the second floor front bedroom. You ever decide whether you want to keep the French doors for access to the porch or did you want to close that off and just have access from the upstairs sitting room?”

Veronica simpered and lit up like someone had stuck a couple of ten thousand watt wires in her ears. Didn’t she know that showing so much enthusiasm wasn’t a good look for her?

“Jack, what do you think?” she sang. “You’re the expert with these old houses.”

“If it were mine, I’d stick with the original as much as possible. People on ghost tours are going to want to hear that the house is more or less as it was when it was built.”

“That makes sense.” She suddenly had the grace to remember that I was in the room and I was supposed to be her ghost tour manager. “Susan, do you agree?”

“Sure.” I beamed Jack a toothy smile. “As long as you don’t paint the trim tan and tangerine and teal.”

“Tan and Tangerine? What do you mean?” Veronica said looking from me to Jack and back again.

“Nothing. Kind of an inside joke.” Heat flooded my face. A really lame inside joke.

Jack was staring at me and the blush was lasting way too long. If it didn’t go away soon, I was going to have to stick my head in a bucket of ice water.

“Nic was reminding me of a mistake I made once,” Jack said. He stepped to one side and motioned for me to pass. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to block your way. I’m sure your family needs you at home.”

Managing to avoid shooting a glare at him, I marched past. Before I left Charleston I went to the nearest grocery to pick up a loaf of bread and more dog food as well as some yogurt and fruit to stock my office mini fridge in the morning. When I drove back past the mansion on my way home, the construction crew had gone, but Jack’s truck and Veronica’s Miata were still snuggled side by side in the lot next door.

An evil troll forced its way into my head and wouldn’t go away. It’s obvious they’re going out tonight. Why else would Veronica be dressed like that with Walter out of the country? She’s supposed to be your friend. Your best and dearest friend. And even though she already has a boyfriend, she’s stealing Jack from you without a second thought.

No, she wasn’t. Because I didn’t have Jack. And I certainly didn’t want him.

I gave myself a mental slap and gripped the steering wheel tight enough to make my joints ache. I was thinking bitchy thoughts and Veronica deserved so much better from me.

I tromped on the gas. Jack and Veronica would go out. I would sit home with Mama and Cole and the Chihuahuas while DeLorean had an evening with her friends. Poor me. Poor, lonely useless me.

“Stop whining,” the troll said after about a minute of me wallowing in self-pity like a hog in a mud hole. “You have things to do. Important things. Wouldn’t Jack be surprised to know you have a life?”

No. Jack was not interested in my life any more than I was interested in his. But the troll was right about the whining. I’d gotten so wrapped up in my work, I’d never remembered to call Lawrence Little again. There was also the fact that Philip was trying to blackmail Mama, but blackmail might be hard to prove. He’d never, as far as I knew, asked for money in front of a witness. He was too smart for that. But did I really want to have DeLorean’s father arrested? Wouldn’t it be enough to let him know I was on to him so he’d leave town and never come back? Sure beat sitting home listening to imaginary violins playing songs of pity.

I called Patty and caught her before she left the shop. “Still up for that trip to the motel to have a talk with Philip Beauchamp?”

“Woo-hoo! What made you change your mind, lady?”

“Got tired of sitting around worrying and decided I’d take charge of the situation.” Mama had been really upset Sunday. Another visit from Philip wouldn’t do her blood pressure any good. Besides, I’d given the matter a lot more thought and realized that even if Philip were actually married to the second woman and committing bigamy it would take a while for the authorities to investigate and arrest him. And if he weren’t, we’d be right back to the beginning. If I could convince him I was going to report him to the police, that should be enough to get him to back off. I wouldn’t promise not to contact his new wife, though.

“Can you pick me up so we can ride together?”

“I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Maybe you can consult the Universe for slime busting tips while you wait.”

When I got back to Mount Pleasant, I ran by the house to drop off my groceries so Brad could eat. He’d run out of food this morning.

DeLorean met me at the door. She was fully made up and had on a semi sheer black blouse and a black mini skirt that made her legs look about ten feet long. She held out her hand, palm up. “Keys?”

I ignored the hand and pushed past her to the refrigerator. “Sorry. Change of plans.” She was going to flip and I couldn’t blame her.

“What change of plans? You have to take over Mama and Cole before I turn into a raving hysteric. I called some of my friends, girls I went to high school with, and we’re supposed to meet at Reds Sports Bar.”

From the back yard a booming bark split the air and then something galloped past the kitchen window. DeLorean put her hands over her ears and took a deep breath. “Brad barks at everything he even thinks is moving. My nerves are shredded.”

“Here’s his food. I’m sure he’s starving and make sure his water dish is full.” I put the bag on the kitchen island. “I have to leave right away. My friend is expecting me.”

“Jack? Can’t he make it another time.” DeLorean could pout more effectively than anyone I’d ever met--a pout guaranteed to put me on a guilt trip.

“Not Jack. I have other friends, you know.” I didn’t tell her the friend was Patty. Maybe she’d think I was going on a date.

“You can’t do this. It isn’t fair after I waited all day. It is soooo not like you to be this selfish, Susan.” Any minute she’d start foaming at the mouth, which would do some serious damage to the under made-up, but naturally gorgeous look she’d achieved with lip gloss and a touch of blush.

“Trust me. This is for your own good. Call your friends and tell them you’ll be late. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I blew her a kiss.

I grabbed a sweater from the front closet. The breeze blowing inland had stiffened and cooled the air into the nippy category since noon. As I dashed across the yard to the van, I managed to pull on the sweater.

When I got to the corner, I glanced in the rear view mirror, half expecting DeLorean to be running down the street after me shaking her fist. Nope. Hopefully she was in the back yard feeding Brad.