“Not really. I took a ride out there and called them on the spot with an offer.”
“Have you got a pic?”
“Hang on.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “This is it.”
She studied the photos of the two-story Spanish-revival with the white stucco walls and red terracotta roof tiles. It wasn’t anything unusual, Sarah felt. There were lots of homes in the area that looked similar.
“Where’s it located again?” she said.
“It’s way up in the forest off San Marcos Pass Road.”
“I didn’t think there were any homes up there.”
“It is pretty isolated. The original owners bought the lot and built a custom home on it. Wait till you see it in person. It’s pretty magnificent.”
He’s awfully chatty today. “What do you think we’ll be able to get for it?”
Joe sat back and folded his arms across his chest. She felt as if there was joke here, but she wasn’t getting it and scrunched her nose.
“Joe?”
“A mil-and-a-quarter,” he said. “Maybe more.”
“Are you serious? How much did you pay?”
“Just under four. I figure with labor and materials, we’re going to have to put in another three-to-four.”
“That only leaves a profit of—”
“Two-and-a-quarter, I know. But it puts us into a whole new luxury market.”
She wiped her lips with her napkin. “That’s incredible.”
“It is.” He twirled his fork in the air. “And with places like this opening up all over town, we’ll be able to attract a more elite clientele.”
“Are you sure you never went to B-school?” she said.
“I’m very excited.”
“And here I thought you were keeping secrets from me.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“So, when do I get to see the place?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’d like you to walk the property and look at every inch of the place before Manny and the guys start knocking out walls.”
Manny Ortiz was Joe’s construction foreman and Blanca’s long-suffering husband. There was nobody in the business better than Manny.
“I’ll be there.”
Doing a quick dance move with her arms, Sarah leapt out of her chair and hugged her business partner.
“You did good, Mr. Greene.”
But when she leaned in to kiss him, he awkwardly avoided her lips, causing her to freeze mid-hug.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was excited about the— What’s with the pull-back?”
“Well, there is one other thing I need to talk to you about.”
“Uh-oh.”
Shoulders slumped, she returned to her chair and slugged the entire glass of wine, bracing herself for the worst.
“Okay,” he said. “This is going to sound a little weird because… I never thought I would… I mean, it sort of… Happened.”
“Joe, can you please tell me already?”
He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “I met someone.”
“Oh.” She blinked hard. “Okay. For a second, I thought you wanted to dissolve the partnership.”
“Sarah, come on. This is our business.”
“Right. I knew that. So, this is why you’ve been mysteriously absent a lot. Who is she?”
“Her name is Gail.”
She felt her body stiffen. Could this be happening?
“Where did you meet her?” she said.
“At the County Recorder’s office.”
“How romantic.”
“She’s a paralegal. We hit it off, I guess.”
Sarah dismissed the image of her stabbing Joe in the eye with her olive fork. She felt as though she’d fallen down a deep well head first. As Joe continued to effuse over the mystery lady, everything was moving farther and farther away until her ex-husband sounded like that trapped insect from The Fly. She had to will herself back to the surface.
“Well, that’s…great,” she said, forcing a smile that felt as if it would tear her face. “Will I get a chance to meet her at some point?”
“I guess. You’re okay with this, right?”
“It’s fine. It’s not as if you’re supposed to be a monk. Do they have Jewish monks?” She tried imagining Joe in a monk robe, which was followed by another naughtier image. Jeez, Sarah, really?
“Okay, that’s a relief,” he said. “We have to work together, and I don’t want this to be awkward.”
“No, it’s not awkward. Or anything.” Kill me now. “So, I guess you’re seeing her tonight? Hence the…” She pointed at his jacket.
“Yeah, later. We’re having dinner in Ojai.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you.”
She saw a server and waved her over. Joe was about to hand her his credit card when Sarah put her hand on his, a little too hard.
“Let me get this one.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
She handed over her Amex card and finished the last few drops of wine. They’d hardly touched their food. Sarah had walked in starving, and now she felt nauseous. After signing the credit card slip, she and Joe left the bar. Outside, it was raining again. Perfect. She’d get soaked walking back to her car. There goes my stupid hair.
Joe smiled at Sarah. “See you in the morning. I’ll text you the address.”
“Night, Joe.” Then as he walked off, “Have fun.”
She stood in the rain for a long time, not caring that she was getting drenched to the bone. They had never really discussed seeing other people. It occurred to her, this whole time she’d been clinging to the idea that, even if they were no longer married, they would be together somehow. Stupid Catholic school girl fantasy if there ever was one, she told herself.
“You were the one who asked for the divorce, genius,” she said. “But only because Joe lied about wanting kids.”
The parking lot behind Greene Realty seemed darker than usual. One of the outside floodlights was flickering, causing dramatic shadows to appear, then vanish. Somewhere in the distance she thought she heard the sound of beating wings.
Everyone else had gone home, and Sarah’s was the only car in the lot. As the rain fell hard in rivulets on her windshield, she sat behind her steering wheel, gripping it tightly, and cried with a sorrow she hadn’t felt since the divorce became final.
Four
The house sat at the top of a rise in a clearing that Sarah estimated to be around half an acre. Beyond that on either side and to the rear stood incredibly tall coast redwoods that loomed like gigantic guardians of the forest. A slow mist had gathered at the base of the cement driveway, which was cracked and weedy. Morning light shone through heavy gray clouds, the rays missing the house and leaving it in shadow like an unpopular child in a schoolyard. Sarah had often run in the area, but she’d never come this far. Why would someone want to live way up here? All alone?
She and Joe had decided to drive up in his truck. Two coffees sat in the twin cup holders. She grabbed hers to warm herself against the morning chill. On the way, she had wanted to ask him about his date but remembered their conversation about not letting things get awkward and decided it was better to let it lie. Joe volunteered nothing, and she wondered if the night had gone badly. Then, she realized she secretly hoped it had and tried putting the thought out of her mind.
Manny and his crew would arrive later, and Sarah and Joe had the house to themselves for about an hour. Joe always insisted she check a property before starting any renovations. She asked him why once, and he told her it was because she had taken all those architecture and interior design classes after college. But maybe it was something more. Had she rubbed off on him and he wanted to make sure nothing “otherworldly” was going on?
The latter would make sense because typically you would receive little information from the bank about a property they were unloading. In California, you are only required to disclose “material facts” such
as structural concerns and total square footage. The property’s history was irrelevant and, short of a mass murder, buyers would end up knowing almost nothing—unless they asked. And anyway, Joe seemed to have an instinct about buying properties that were devoid of the paranormal.
Sarah felt cold as they got out of the truck, and she wished she’d worn a sweater under her short black leather jacket. She grabbed her coffee and stood back, taking in as much of the house as she could. At five-eight, she considered herself tall. And in her Steve Madden boots with the three-inch heels, she was enormous—except when she was with Joe, who was six-three. But standing in front of the imposing two-story Spanish-revival, she felt tiny. She was sure it was because of the angle and proceeded to walk the perimeter. Joe remained in the truck, dialing his phone. She wondered if he was calling Gail.
Weeds sprouted everywhere through the sand that surrounded the house. Sarah noticed an enormous raven observing her from the roof. When she looked up at it, the bird croaked threateningly and flew off. So far, she hadn’t gotten any strange emanations—not that she was inviting them. The white, roughly textured stucco walls were cracked in places, and they would probably want to replace the windows with double-paned. On the side, she found an ugly row of firethorn bushes growing close to the house.
“Hell naw,” she said to the curious squirrel observing her from a nearby Manzanita tree.
The rest of the property was unremarkable. A massive hole dominated the backyard where some previous owner had started to build a pool, then abandoned it. Now, it lay there desolately, filled with black, stagnant water and rotting leaves.
“You ready to look inside?” Joe said, walking toward her.
He put a hand on her shoulder, which surprised her, given the whole Gail situation.
“Yeah. We’re filling this in, right?”
“Think so? It wouldn’t take much to finish the job. A pool will add a lot of value.”
“I guess.”
They returned to the front door where Sarah noticed white tiles above the lintel with the words Casa Abrigo emblazoned in blood red.
Joe squinted at the words. “Abrigo?”
“It means ‘shelter,’” she said.
“Shelter, huh? From what, I wonder.”
He removed the key from the lock box and let them both in. What hit Sarah first was the deadness of the air. Not even dust motes were moving in the thin rays of light that fell like dying angels from the windows.
“How many bedrooms?” she said.
“Four upstairs. And a maid’s quarters and laundry room down that way off the kitchen.”
“Let’s start upstairs.”
As they crossed the dusty terra cotta floor, their footsteps echoed in the emptiness of a space that was beginning to unnerve Sarah. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she noticed something moving. At the foot of the stairs, she turned. That same raven was perched in a tree outside, its head cocked to one side. It was staring at her through a window. This is how it all started in The Birds.
Room by room, they made their way through the house. Overall, Sarah’s impression was that it was a nice property but needed lots of work. Little things. Scratched window casings, cracked floor tiles, water damage on the ceiling, and bathrooms that sorely needed updating. The usual stuff. If they were lucky, they might be able to get away with putting in under three hundred. Unless Joe insisted on the damned pool.
They had decided to look at the kitchen last. It wasn’t in bad shape, except for the outdated appliances and fluorescent lighting that made Sarah shudder. As she scanned the room, she noticed an arched door.
“There’s a cellar?”
“Guess I forgot about it.” Joe walked over and tried the doorknob. Locked.
“You don’t have a key?”
He crouched down and peered at the keyhole. “Nope. Just this one—opens the front and back doors.”
Sarah heard the sounds of a vehicle door slamming and guessed Manny and the guys had arrived.
“Maybe Manny can get it open,” she said.
Leaving her coffee cup on the kitchen island that was thick with dust, Sarah headed out with Joe as Manny was approaching.
“Where are the boys?” Joe said.
“Be here soon.”
The “boys” were Manny’s three sons—Nacho, Memo, and Pollito—who were two years apart and all in their twenties. Though they were excellent workers, they tended not to manage the rest of their lives very well. In fact, they still lived at home because they were incapable of saving any money, a situation Manny bore with the silent fortitude of an early Christian martyr. And, according to Blanca, they knew nothing about maintaining healthy romantic relationships. From her tone, it was clear the woman was desperate for grandchildren.
Sarah loved Manny. With his salt-and-pepper hair and dark skin, he reminded her of her dad but without the university education. As a boy, Manny had traveled up from Mexico with his mother and younger sister to join their father in the fields in the Central Valley. He learned English quickly and, by the time he was twelve, was working construction. Eventually, he made his way south toward LA. But on a stopover in Ventura, he met Blanca, who was working as a server at a local Coco’s restaurant. He never did make it to LA.
“Can you pick a lock?” Joe said, smiling hopefully.
Manny shrugged. “Can’t all Mexicans?”
After grabbing some tools from his truck, Manny worked on the door, which was made of knotty alder. The handle and keyhole cover were wrought iron. Manny inserted a tension wrench and turned it slightly. Using a pick, he worked the pins of the lock one by one. When he’d finished with the last pin, he tilted his head toward Joe, who turned the knob. The door opened easily.
“Nice job, MacGruber,” Sarah said.
As Joe pushed the door open, they found a tiled stairway with a wrought-iron railing that led to a cellar. Sarah went last, and as she made her way down the stairs, an intense musty odor assaulted her, making her dizzy. Narrow, grime-covered windows gave off a weak light, and for a second, she thought she felt something brush past her.
“Why is it so cold down here?” When she reached the bottom, she found racks and racks of dust-covered wine bottles.
“That’s why,” Joe said.
Manny whistled. “Hijo. How much do you think all this is worth?”
“There might be an inventory book down here somewhere.”
Joe and Sarah began checking the bottles. She recognized French, Italian, and California labels—all expensive.
“How will we know if they’re any good?” she said.
“Only one way.”
Joe carefully removed one of the bottles and blew the dust off. He handed it to Sarah, who saw that it was 1961 Chateau Palmer Bordeaux.
She smiled. “Looks like we’re having pizza and wine for dinner.”
“I’ll stick to Miller Lite,” Manny said.
“Pa?” a voice said from the kitchen.
Manny turned to look. “My boys are here. Time for some real work.”
Something crashed. All three turned to find a wine bottle that lay shattered on the tile, the dark red liquid pooling around it like blood.
“Don’t look at me,” he said, and went upstairs.
Later at The Cracked Pot, Sarah and Joe discussed the new project over a chopped salad and corned beef sandwich.
“I don’t understand why you think the renovation will cost more than a couple hundred,” she said.
“Well, I thought we could knock out the wall separating the kitchen and dining room. And I want to go high end on the appliances.”
“Still seems like a lot. The house is in great shape. Why didn’t the bank want more?”
“That’s what I said, but they wouldn’t tell me.”
“And why didn’t the other buyer offer more?”
“It’s a mystery. Also, remember. I haven’t gotten a plumber or electrician out here yet. Who knows what we’ll find.”
Taking a bit
e of her salad, Sarah watched Joe digging into his sandwich. Though she was hesitant to ask, she decided she might as well know now how things stood between them, romance-wise.
“So, are you going to split that expensive Bordeaux with Gail?”
“I’ll pick out another one for her.”
She did her best to suppress a victory grin. “You do realize everything down there might be corked.”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
He began spinning his empty coffee cup, and she wondered if she should roll the dice again and broach the subject of “the date.” To be honest, he looked like he wanted to tell her. Like Sarah, Joe didn’t have a lot of close friends to confide in.
“Joe—”
“Sarah, about last night,” he said. “I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that.”
“It’s okay. Like you said, we both need to move on.” Like hell. “So, can you tell me anything about her? Please don’t say she has a tiny waist and huge boobs.”
“She’s nice. Went to UCLA. Wanted to be an attorney.”
“But settled for paralegal?”
“Decided she didn’t want the pressure.”
“And what are her views on marriage?” Wow, did I say that out loud?
“Sarah, for Chri— Sorry. Look, we’ve only started dating. How would I know?”
I’d know. “So, is she Jewish?”
“Yes.”
Shit. Well, at least his parents will be happy. “And, um, things went well, did they?”
“Okay, this is getting weird.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be supportive.”
“We had a nice time.”
So, no sex, then. “Okay, I’m done. Are you heading back out to the house?”
“Yeah.” He looked at his watch. “In fact, I should get going. I’ll check in with you later. You can decide what kind of pizza we’re having with the wine.”
“You got it.”
He got up and left cash on the table. As he started off, he put his hand on hers. “See you soon. Take care of yourself.”
“You know me.”
Rather than go back to the office right away, Sarah decided to sit a while, and signaled the server to bring more coffee. For a guy who was hot for another woman, Joe was certainly being affectionate. Maybe he felt guilty and was making an effort? Nevertheless, she decided to enjoy it while it lasted. Soon, this other shrew would get her hooks into him, and the next thing you know, Sarah and Joe would be forced to conduct business exclusively by phone and email.
The Girl in the Mirror Page 4