Fall Flip

by Denise Weimer

  “Well, that was a lucky break.”

  “Not luck, sweetheart. Leverage.” Tasha opened her door and slung her Vuitton handbag over her shoulder.

  Quelling a stirring of unease, Shelby followed the taller woman into a glassframed showroom that smelled of wax, air freshener, and fresh-brewed coffee. She’d told Scott she wouldn’t ask any more questions. Well, she hadn’t. She’d just not volunteered the information that Tasha was already setting up this meeting. When Tasha called with a date and time, Shelby’s curiosity overcame any misgivings.

  “Miss Clausen, so good to see you.” A short, stocky salesman of middle age hurried to intercept them as Tasha strode toward the reception desk. “I can take you right back to Mr. Barnes. He’s expecting you.”

  Tasha looked down her nose. “Wonderful.”

  He chuckled and gestured to a Corvette the color of a fire engine in the middle of the showroom. “And as you can see, she’s still right there waiting for you.”

  “You’re buying a car?” Shelby frowned at Tasha.

  Tasha shot her a threatening moue and followed their escort down a long, paneled hallway with her hair kissing the small of her back and her heels clicking on the linoleum. Keeping her own back straight and matching her friend’s confident stride, Shelby repressed that little-girl sensation that often came over her next to Miss European Supermodel. Every tie-wearing male in every office they passed stared as they walked by.

  Outside a closed door at the end of the hallway, the salesman pivoted on shiny wingtips and gazed up at Tasha. “Let me apologize again that we lost the note after you called asking us to keep an eye out for red.”

  Tasha tilted her head and smiled. “It’s no problem.”

  A terrible suspicion came over Shelby as the door swung open and the sales associate introduced David Barnes. A suspicion that almost overshadowed her first impression of the blond, balding man with a slight spare tire who rose from behind a mahogany desk. And what David Barnes said as he shook Tasha’s hand only underscored Shelby’s dread.

  “Miss Clausen, a pleasure to meet you. My manager said you wanted to speak with me about a trade-plus-cash. He said you got tired of yellow! I can’t imagine.”

  Tasha introduced Shelby as her friend. As Shelby shook David’s hand, she tried to see the little boy who had waited for days, weeks, months, for his mother to come home. How long had it taken him to give up? Had he ever?

  Placing her purse on her lap, the real estate agent settled into her leather-cushioned chair. “I do want to know what type of deal you could offer me, Mr. Barnes, but after we discuss another matter.”

  “Oh? What’s that?” Still wearing a congenial expression slightly tempered with caution, David glanced between the two women. Shelby wondered if he could read her guilt.

  Typical to her personality, Tasha went for the jugular. “Why you didn’t reveal the particulars of your mother’s unsolved case to Shelby’s clients when they asked if they needed to know anything else about your house.”

  Shelby felt her stomach sink, right at the moment the slight natural flush some blond men possessed drained from David’s face.

  Tasha waited, then spoke again softly, making the threat all the more powerful. “Under Georgia law, I’d consider that non-disclosure.”

  David fixed on Shelby, making her want to blurt out that this little ambush had not been her idea. “Mrs. Dodson, I assure you no deception was intended. My real estate agent thought your clients were inquiring about the physical condition of the house.”

  Tasha blew a little air out of her burgundy lips. “Not likely.”

  “They had just been asking about the roof and the electrical. As for my mother’s disappearance, it’s merely that. A disappearance. There was no criminal activity to disclose.”

  Shelby sat forward. “Mr. Barnes, we don’t intend to make accusations or to upset you. In fact, I hate to bring all this to light again, with that recent newspaper article—which you probably saw—it creates a very negative environment for the older couple who purchased the home as their fiftieth anniversary present.”

  Tasha pressed her lips together. At first, Shelby thought she was annoyed that she’d spoken up, but a sad frown almost immediately settled over her features as she spring-boarded off Shelby’s statement. “And what Shelby won’t mention is how the selection of such a house on the eve of her own husband’s untimely death creates a poor reflection on her professionally.”

  Shelby weighed the possibility that Tasha’s concern might truly fuel her investigations. As nice as it was to feel like someone had her back—an assurance she’d dearly missed—the motivation did not excuse Tasha’s methods with David.

  “I’d say it creates a negative environment for me too.” David pushed away from his desk, elbows on arm rests, fingers steepled. “Since that article, this place has been deserted. I fear a return to the days when my father had to take the family name off the business my grandpa built up from nothing. He almost didn’t make it.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t give up on the family legacy,” Shelby said.

  “Well, that and he didn’t want to take me away from his family here in Augusta. At that time, his aging parents relied on him as well.”

  David swiveled to indicate a grouping of sepia prints behind him, depicting men in fedora hats and ties posed with various models of antique vehicles. When he looked back around, his shoulders slumped.

  “Even now, I try to keep a low profile and let my manager be the face of the place, but I’m afraid this will make everyone remember.”

  Tasha started to speak, but Shelby silenced her with a wave of her hand. Disregarding Tasha’s startled frown, she leaned forward, hoping her face communicated her compassion. “We don’t want that to happen, either, Mr. Barnes. Perhaps we can work together, help stop the rumor mill. May I ask what you think happened to your mother?”

  David released a deep sigh and rubbed his face. “This is very personal. It’s not something I talk about.”

  “But now your father’s past has impacted a number of other people.” Tasha drew her mouth into a flat line.

  David sat upright. “But that’s just it, it’s not his fault! He is the biggest victim of all.”

  “You’re sure he’s innocent,” Shelby stated.

  “That’s right. Yes, they argued. He wasn’t the most patient man, and maybe he was controlling, but not any more than was typical for his generation. But he would never hit her. He loved her. Maybe a little too much. Maybe she got tired of him up in her business all the time, tired of all the conflict, and hopped a bus to somewhere.”

  Tasha quirked up a manicured brow. “Without taking her ID, her purse?” “If she wanted to start a new life, maybe. She could’ve had money stashed away we didn’t know about.”

  Remembering the first holiday returning home from college after her dad left, Shelby’s heart twisted. She asked softly, “But would she leave you that way?”

  “The alternative is worse.”

  Shelby offered a sympathetic smile. “For a child, though, is it?”

  A shutter came down over the light-hazel eyes. “Mrs. Dodson, with God’s help when I was a teenager, I forgave my mother. If I wanted any semblance of a normal life, I had to, because the anger of her abandoning me was eating me up inside. It didn’t really matter what happened to her. She left.”

  Shelby sensed they had pressed too far and sat forward to take their leave. Tasha, however, waved her hand under the overhang of the desk, encouraging Shelby to wait. “Mr. Barnes, we should return to the pressing matter—”

  David didn’t even seem to notice her. Words rolled off the older man’s tongue. “Watching the toll this took on Dad was far worse. In the late ’70s, he turned this business over to a friend to manage for a time, then ran it from home after he recovered some mental stability. But he pretty much became a hermit. And he refused to move out of that house. He’d never say it, but I think he held onto some perverse belief that she might show
back up there.”

  “Oh no.” Shelby’s hand fluttered to her heart. Tasha cut her an impatient glance.

  David nodded. Did Tasha not even notice that sympathy, not intimidation, had made him open up? “Getting him into the nursing home was a major feat. Now his health is bad, but he’s the most peaceful I’ve ever seen him. I can’t risk this upsetting him again, so I can only ask you to drop this and please, please, leave us in peace. I’ve been through this a hundred times over the last forty years. I don’t have any more answers than I did back then.”

  As David stood up, so did Shelby, shouldering her purse. In the face of the man’s obvious pain, her heart hammered, and she wanted to flee. But Tasha remained seated, legs crossed. “All this is very distressing, I am sure, Mr. Barnes, but still does not satisfy the question of nondisclosure.”

  The man sighed, his arms hanging heavy at the sides of his pin-striped, short-sleeved shirt. “I guess you’ll have to take it up with my lawyer, then, Miss Clausen, because we didn’t hide anything a simple Google on the property wouldn’t have told you. I won’t lie to you about the fact that being rid of that house feels like a fifty-pound weight lifted from my shoulders.”

  Rising slowly, Tasha replied to David’s first statement. “If the situation causes the buyers any further distress, we just might do that.”

  Shelby hooked a hand through the real estate agent’s elbow. “We apologize for taking up your time, Mr. Barnes.”

  After she pulled Tasha out of the office, she marched straight past the fire-engine-red Corvette they had not discussed at all and out of the showroom.

  Later that day, Shelby opened the front door of the bungalow to find Scott and Todd installing the iron rail for the stairs. “Oh wow, that looks good!”

  Scott looked up from drilling, undisguised pleasure flashing over his features. The effect couldn’t have hit Shelby more squarely in the chest if he’d thrown a hammer. “Hey! You’re here!”

  “Yep, the guilt of poor Seth removing all the old nails and wallpaper by himself kept eating at me.”

  “We’re touched you thought of us in our sufferings.” Todd placed a hand to the front of his flannel shirt before testing the new rail with a gentle shake, while the boss nodded his approval.

  Scott winked at Shelby. “I have to admit, I was sore about taking out the old banister, but I like the openness of the iron on both sides.”

  Shelby stifled a smug smile. “Thank you! Well, I hear Seth upstairs. I’ll go see how I can help him.” Following Tasha’s morning errand, and considering Scott’s proclivity to ferret out the truth, she harbored no desire to linger in his presence.

  Scott stood and jogged down to where his tool box rested in the foyer. Shifting things around, he lifted out a small, new hammer with sharp tongs. “I’ll tell you how you can help him. You can tackle those nails in the master bedroom. After removing the glue and wiping the walls with that first batch of TSP, he hasn’t gotten back in there for the nails, and that room’s a nightmare.” He chuckled when Shelby didn’t try to hide her dismay. “I’ll come help you in a few minutes.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll do what I can, then leave. Maybe unexpectedly if I can’t take it.” Forcing a weak smile at her lame joke, Shelby hefted the hammer.

  “No running out on us!” Todd’s voice followed her. “We’ll be listening.”

  In the back room, Shelby admired the increased light admitted by the new French doors. She couldn’t wait to design the patio space on the other side. Then she surveyed the unpleasant labor before her, and her spirits sank. Removing her heels, Shelby placed her purse and water on a folding tray and went to work.

  Some of the nails came out easily, while others had been pushed in too far for the hammer prongs to loosen. Threads of the old wallpaper clung under the edges with the stubborn tenacity of age. As she worked, she wondered if this had been Charles and Sharon’s bedroom. Had their fights taken place here, muffled from a small child’s ears by only a closed door? What tears and hurtful words had these walls witnessed? Remembering with guilt the almost visible weight David Barnes still carried, the unease in her chest deepened.

  “You’re doing great.” Scott stood in the doorway, dressed for the cooler weather in an old Henley with his jeans rather than a T-shirt.

  “Some of these nails are impossible.”

  “Let me see what I can do with them.” He disappeared, returning a minute later with needle-nosed pliers. “Leave the stubborn ones to me.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  Scott flashed her a smile, creating laugh lines around his mouth. “Just trying to get you to stay more than an hour.”

  They worked in silence for a few minutes before Scott glanced over at her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You’re quiet.”

  “I’m fine. I think maybe I feel some of that sadness Ruby referred to, especially in this room. It’s creeping me out a little.”

  Scott stopped and looked around. “Why, you think something happened in here?”

  “I just wondered if it was their bedroom. It makes sense that it would have been.”

  He peered at her with that discerning look of his. “Did something put you in this mood?”

  “No.” A swell of guilt rose up from her middle to swamp her at that lie. “Yes. Tasha and I went to see David Barnes this morning.”

  “You did what?”

  “Now don’t get all mad. It was her idea, and she set up the meeting.”

  “But you went!”

  “It was set before the Wentworths said not to worry about it.”

  “You could have refused to go.”

  Shelby tugged too hard on a tight nail, causing it to fly past her. She bent to pick it up, then dropped it in the box with the others with a metallic ping.

  “You know what I encountered last night when I was leaving here?” Facing Scott, she put a hand on her hip in a self-righteous stance. “Two teenagers in the bushes, taking pictures for their blog. Just like Tasha predicted! I did my best to set them straight about the privacy of those involved, but I doubt it will do much good. Who knows what they’ll publish.”

  Looking away from her, Scott shook his head, not over the blog, she could tell, but over her actions. Why did his disappointment twist her heart into a knot? She shouldn’t care what he thought. Only her career and the future peace of the Wentworths mattered. And now, that added burden for David Barnes.

  Shelby jutted her chin out. “I’m glad I went. I mean, it was awful. He was so sad, Scott. Afraid this latest article would harm their family business again. He runs West End Premium Pre-owned—used car sales. But it gave me clarity that he doesn’t think his father’s guilty.”

  Unloading felt better. Even if Scott continued pulling nails without much response, she could tell he was listening, weighing her words. Shelby summarized the visit to the Barnes’ son, concluding with her own conflicted reaction. “What struck me was when he said he forgave his mother whether she left him by choice or not. I can’t imagine being in that situation. But actually …” Her voice trailed off. “I kind of can.”

  Scott stopped and studied her. “Then maybe some good can come of this.”

  Shelby opened a hand on her chest to illustrate her sincerity. “I feel so bad for him. I can’t seem to shake it. I wish there was something we could do to make people stop assuming the worst.”

  “People love a mystery or a scandal more than they love the truth. Trying to tear their fiction away from them is like trying to take a meaty bone from my German shepherd. Or getting this stupid nail out of the wall. It’s right here next to the door to the bathroom, so I’d rather not leave it.”

  “Let me see.” Shelby bent and peered over Scott’s shoulder. “Maybe if we can get that fabric out from behind, it will loosen it up. I have an idea.” As she crossed the room to dig her makeup bag out of her purse, she asked, “You have a German shepherd? Aren’t those mean?”

  “Luther
protects the property, but he’s a big puppy where his family is concerned.”

  “Your house?”

  “Uh … yeah.” Scott sounded lost in thought, but when she knelt next to him, he asked in surprise, “Tweezers?”

  Shelby grinned and started picking at the threads behind the problem nail. “Only wait, and be amazed. A woman’s beauty tools serve many purposes.”

  “I don’t even want to know.”

  “Well? Do you have any ideas for how we can counter the negative publicity?” She flicked her hair out of her way.

  “Um …” Again Scott sounded distracted. Maybe she’d hit him with her hair.

  When Shelby wobbled, he steadied her with a warm hand on her elbow. She offered a quick smile. “Thanks. I thought of contacting a friend at a local magazine about doing an article. If people read Ruby and Lester’s love story, compassion for them could help still wagging tongues.”

  “I think you’re on the right track. Focus on the new and uplifting, not the old and sordid.”

  “Really?” Encouraged, Shelby glanced over, suddenly aware that without his proverbial ball cap on, Scott seemed much closer. Stomach muscles tightening as his breath fanned her cheek, she focused her attention on the stubborn wallpaper fragments.

  “Yeah. You know, the grace David Barnes shows could be a lesson to us all. I think we tend to assume the worst about each other.”

  “And the remedy for that? Believe the best and be disappointed? Because that’s pretty much my track record.” Shelby made a face.

  Scott lightly touched her back, whether for physical or emotional support, Shelby couldn’t tell. “Give a person a chance, and leave the rest in God’s hands.”

  Trying to discern how that applied to her, Shelby remained silent. Chet had never said things she had to ponder like that. Her mom would call Scott “a deep well.”

  When Scott bent his head close to tug a chunk loose and Shelby got a whiff of aftershave, she held her breath so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. She hadn’t been this close to a man in almost a year. Apparently, she missed it more than she thought.