Aja watched her go, wondering where she’d come from, which house had a nanny or sitter who was supposed to be watching her but wasn’t. It wasn’t worrisome, it was a very secure area, but it seemed clear that the child was lonely and maybe shouldn’t have been quite so alone.
She went back to work, methodically pulling the dirt from the plastic bags and smoothing it over the plots she’d laid out, but she couldn’t get her mind fully off the interaction. Something about it was really sticking with her, and she couldn’t figure out why.
It was probably her hormones free-falling with pregnancy that made her feel so sad and so driven to help the child, when the fact was she didn’t know anything about her. For all she knew, the girl had gone back to a wonderful home filled with brothers and sisters and was playing a rousing game of Monopoly right now, sneaking extra cash out of the bank and putting it under her side of the board the way Aja could remember doing years back.
She worked for a while in silent thought and it wasn’t until she stood up to stretch her legs that the ring in her pocket dug into her abdomen and reminded her it was there.
She took it out and examined it again. It sure looked real to her. Whether she’d look foolish or not, she had to take it in to Lucinda and let her decide what to do with it.
She stopped at the hose bib at the back of the house and rinsed herself and then the ring again, before going in the door to the kitchen. Under the overhead light, the stone looked even more brilliant, despite the bits of dirt and grime that mere rinsing hadn’t been able to remove.
“Hello?” she called. “Mrs. Carter?”
No answer.
She crossed through the large room where she and Michael had sat with her and went to the bottom of the staircase. “Mrs. Carter?” she called again. Then, a little louder, “Mrs. Carter!”
Finally there was an answer and the sound of heeled shoes walking on the hardwood floor overhead. Lucinda Carter appeared at the top of the stairs, silhouetted by the sunlight that poured into the hall behind her. “You don’t need to scream, I’m here.”
Aja took a moment to remind herself this wasn’t about her, this was the way Lucinda probably was with everyone she regarded as “beneath her.” Which, yeah, would be easy to take umbrage at, but it would be wrong nonetheless.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but while I was working I found something I think you should see.”
Lucinda started down the steps. “Dear lord, please tell me it’s not another bone.”
“What? No. It’s— No, it’s a ring.”
“A ring?”
“Yes, and it looks to me like it might be real.” She braced herself for a sarcastic rejoinder about an imaginary ring, but fortunately that didn’t come.
“Buried treasure, you say.” Lucinda had her glasses on a chain around her neck and she raised them to her eyes. “That’s a first. Let’s see what you have.”
Aja produced the ring, and the woman took it as gingerly as if Aja were handing her a tarantula.
“Hmm.” She crinkled her nose and turned the bauble over in her hand. “This looks like . . .” She closed her fingers over it and looked up the stairs behind her. “But that’s impossible.”
It seemed rude to question her, so Aja waited in silence to be addressed or, preferably, excused.
“This is my mother’s engagement ring,” Lucinda said, leveling a steely gaze on Aja. Her eyes had darkened from the vivid blue she’d passed on to her son to a battleship gray. “How did you get it?”
It was only then that Aja realized she really hadn’t offered much detail about where she’d found it, so it was reasonable for Lucinda to be concerned. “I was digging by the stone wall, just using the trowel, so it had to be within, I’d say, five or six inches of the surface, and it came up with a scoop of dirt.”
“You’re saying this was underground in the garden?”
“Weird, right?” She was getting the distinct feeling that this was weirder than she knew.
The woman’s frown showed just how deeply her age was etched into her features. “Was there anything else?”
“I . . .” Why hadn’t she looked? “I don’t think so. I got distracted and then moved on to putting the sage into the ground because it was starting to look unhappy, so I didn’t specifically look.” She knew she wasn’t guilty of anything and yet her words sounded like a feeble explanation even to her own ears.
“Mm-hmm.”
Anything further she could say would sound like a scramble for exoneration. And it did. “Honestly, I lost track and it didn’t occur to me to investigate further. See, I thought it had to be a fake.”
“You thought my mother’s heirloom Tiffany diamond was . . . a fake.” She sniffed. “Interesting.”
“To be fair, I found it in the dirt. It was hard to imagine it could be real, though the more I looked at it, the more I thought it was. Which is why I brought it in to you.”
“Was it an attack of conscience, girl?”
Aja was taken aback. “Conscience?” It wasn’t like she’d planned on keeping it. Fencing it, or whatever that process was called. She wouldn’t even know where to begin with something like that.
“I know that without a husband or any obvious support, you might be feeling desperate, but—”
“Wait, are you saying you think I stole this from you?”
“I’m saying it’s from my dressing room and you’ve just brought it in covered in dirt. This is well over the standards of grand larceny.”
“Grand larceny?” She felt ill. She should have known after the other day that working anywhere near Michael’s domain would be bad luck for her. “Let me get this straight, are you saying you think I snuck into your house and somehow ferreted out wherever you keep your valuables and somehow bypassed what must be some sort of security, and took this so I could rub it in the dirt and bring it back pretending to have found it?”
“I’m not saying that makes good sense.” Lucinda raised an eyebrow. “Yet you might have guessed there would be a reward in it for you.”
Aja couldn’t help it, she laughed. “With all due respect, if I went that far with that plan, it’s reasonable to guess that there could have been a lot more in it for me than a reward. Particularly one that, I have to say, seems unlikely to have been forthcoming.”
It didn’t seem possible, but was Lucinda stifling a smile? She gave a single nod. “It does seem crazy.”
“I’ll say! If I were, I’d probably be smart enough to come up with a hustle where I didn’t actually work so hard? Like, I wouldn’t be toiling away in a garden in this heat while struggling through the exhaustion of pregnancy—” She stopped. What had she done? How could she have said that? How foolish could she be?
Lucinda was the last person in the world she wanted to know about this. Or, rather, the second-to-last person.
“Exhaustion,” Aja corrected, too loud. “And the heat.” She tried to think of something that rhymed with pregnancy to pretend that was what she’d said but came up short.
Now Lucinda did smile. It was small and tight but a smile nevertheless. “You’re a real spitfire.”
Aja didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t lurch from insults to compliments—if that was a compliment—so fast. “Say what you will, but I’m not a thief.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Definitely not.” The former gardener, Luga, came to mind, but she had no idea who had done this and she didn’t want to cast blame on anyone who might be innocent. “So I guess you, and perhaps the police, will have to figure out this mystery. That’s not my job.”
“Correct,” the older woman mused, pressing her lips together and frowning, as if in thought.
Aja gathered her nerve. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish working before the sun goes down. That is . . . if I still have a job?”
Lucinda looked at her as if she’d just been roused from a deep sleep. “Hmm? Oh. Yes, yes, you’re not—Yes, you can go finish what you were doing.
”
Aja took a short breath and started out of the hallway as quickly as she could, but when she heard the footsteps coming behind her, she knew it hadn’t been fast enough and she definitely hadn’t covered her slip of the tongue. Wealthy people worried about being sued all the time, probably because they were sued all the time. Though there were laws to protect pregnant women from discrimination, there were a million ways to get around them.
“I’ll do some careful digging to see if there’s anything else out there,” Aja said, hoping to keep the woman’s mind on the near loss of her gem and not on firing her so she wouldn’t have any perceived potential liability for having a pregnant woman doing physical labor for her.
“Aja.”
Aja stopped. She could have kept going, but this was going to catch up with her no matter what. She didn’t have the luxury of magical thinking to get her out of this. She was going to lose the best-paying job she’d ever had, right when she needed the money the most.
“Aja,” Lucinda said again, this time softening her voice. “Please.”
Aja turned to her and decided to go fast and hard with her lie. “Okay, yes, I probably should have told you that before you hired me, but legally you can’t discriminate against a pregnant woman, especially since I’ll finish the job well before I’m even halfway along. My doctor says I can do everything I’ve always done physically as long as I’m mindful of any unusual symptoms.”
Lucinda looked at her quietly and when just a single uncomfortable moment passed without anyone speaking, Aja filled it.
“I’ll sign a waiver, indemnifying you or whatever the word is. I’m sure Michael could write it up for you. Except”—now she’d really stepped in it—“I’d rather he didn’t know my private business. Particularly after the way things ended between us.”
“I see.” Lucinda nodded.
“It’s just . . . delicate.”
“Indeed.”
“It’s not his,” she blurted. “It’s— I’m seeing someone else.”
Lucinda inhaled through her nose, making it even more narrow and pinched for a moment, which gave the impression of a sharp-eyed eagle, about to swoop down and grab her with sharp talons. “Aja.”
“Yes?” It took all she had to resist adding ma’am.
“I am not a fool.”
That makes exactly one of us. “All right.”
“I’m also not cruel.”
Aja straightened her back and gave a nod. “That’s good to hear.”
“I’m not going to deprive an expectant mother of an income I have agreed to provide. I appreciate how important that can be to your personal calculations.”
“Thank you.” Aja waited a moment, then gestured toward the door. “May I . . . ?”
“Of course.”
She started to leave but she heard Lucinda behind her.
“There’s just one thing.”
Aja stopped and turned around. “Yes?”
“I will not allow my grandchild to be raised without family. Not under any circumstances. If that child is a Carter, he will be treated as such.”
“It’s not,” Aja lied firmly. She bunched her fists by her sides, trying to pull some convincing force into her words. “Like I said.”
“I see.”
“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She didn’t wait for permission, she just left.
But she could tell Lucinda didn’t believe her.
* * *
MEETING 4—SEPTEMBER
Delish
REUBEN EGG ROLLS—Nothing short of genius. Can make with beets instead of pastrami.
CHICKEN FRIED CAULIFLOWER—Vegetarian option, fried so everyone will love.
HAMBURGER SOUP—Du jour/1 week/month.
Margo is distinctly lighter than air—something is up. I’d think she was in love but how? And who?
Aja, on the other hand, is tired all the time. Pregnancy seems exhausting.
* * *
October
Chapter Fourteen
Margo
Hi, guys, so . . . okay, today we’re going to make braised garlic pasta. I know some of you have dietary restrictions as far as gluten or carbs go, but I trust you have already figured out what your pasta needs are. This one’s about the sauce primarily—you can put it on anything. Even spaghetti squash, which is pretty diet-friendly, no matter what the diet.” Margo smiled at the camera. “And, Mom, I know you’re going to want real spaghetti, so, since you make the sauce by itself, go ahead and make that for yourself but give Dad the lentil pasta. You’re going to make up for it in garlic, believe me. This one has a ton of flavor, especially if you layer the garlic by putting it in in thirds, at the beginning, the middle, and the end.”
There was a knock at the back door. She glanced over and was surprised to see Max standing there. He gave a small wave, and, flustered, she hurried over and unbolted the door. “Come in! I’m surprised to see you here!” She hoped that didn’t sound rude. “Delighted too, though. Really.” Now she sounded desperate. “Just surprised. Can I get you something? A drink?”
He ambled in, looking as relaxed as she felt nervous. “Sure. Got a beer?”
“Absolutely.” She reflexively checked the clock—4:45 P.M. Calvin would never have approved of this for her, despite the fact that his blood alcohol level would likely have been elevated from lunch. She took two cold Coronas out of the fridge—Calvin also didn’t like “overpriced piss,” no matter how craft—and asked, “Lime?”
A quick shake of the head. “Nah, give it to me straight, baby.”
She laughed and popped the top off one and handed it to him, careful not to lose her grip on the glass as the condensation made it slick.
To get a slice of lime for herself would seem fussy at this point, so she opened hers and went over to join him next to where he was leaning on the counter.
“Given up on the farm finally?” she asked, only half-joking. She wouldn’t blame him if he had.
“Not at all! Which you’d know if you’d been by in the last couple of weeks.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, I’ve also been taking a refresher real estate course. Not interesting, but important. I’m looking for a brokerage to join without a huge commitment. It’s not that easy.”
“Everyone wants commitment. That way they can decide if they want to keep you, not the other way around.”
“That’s definitely the impression I’m getting.” She didn’t elaborate on how much she hated it. She’d gotten so used to having her own schedule over the past few years that she’d forgotten what it was like to get a real job and work within someone else’s time frame.
When she thought about it, she had to wonder if that was part of why she’d stayed in an unsatisfying marriage for so long. It wasn’t bad and it allowed her to do her own thing on her own time. Maybe she hadn’t realized just how important that was to her.
“So what brings you out this way?” she asked.
“Actually, I was on my way to a specialty lumber place near Great Falls and I wanted to ask for your input but realized I didn’t have my phone.”
She frowned. “No Google? No Waze? I’d be lost. How did you find me?”
He produced a piece of paper from his pocket. “Wrote down your info from your text when I hit the road outta New York. It was still in the car.” He slipped the sheet back into his pocket. “I don’t trust technology that much.”
“Good thing.”
“Yeah, except I didn’t write down the address of the place I’m going.”
“So you needed to borrow my technology.”
He flashed a pirate smile. “That and your input on upgrades.” He glanced at the camera, then did a double take. “Is that on?”
“Oh my gosh, it is.” Mortified, she hurried over and grabbed it from the stand. “I’m so sorry, that’s probably just the kind of thing you worry about, being filmed without your knowledge. I’ll erase i
t, honest. Right now, you can watch.”
He touched her forearm. His fingertips created three spots of heat on her skin. “Whoa, Margo, I was only worried about your battery, since I interrupted you and the camera kept running.” He gave her a squeeze then released. “What were you filming?”
“Oh, you know, just a little striptease.” She shimmied, then felt stupid. “I make a little extra cash by doing some live streaming.”
He furrowed his brow in mock consideration. “Do you need a manager? For twenty percent I’ll make you a star.”
“Ten.”
“Fifteen.”
She held out her hand. “Deal.”
He took it and they had a moment of looking at each other in silence before she hastily drew back and said, “No, actually I have a little cooking channel on YouTube for the fine folks at Sullivan’s Island Shady Palm Retirement Village. In other words, my parents and their friends.”
“Cool!” He took a sip of beer and shook his head. “That’s really nice of you. I don’t know a lot of people who would bother. Though that might say a lot about the kind of people I know these days.”
Margo was sure he knew a lot of very interesting people. Far more interesting than she was. “I’m just trying to keep my dad alive. He’s already had one heart attack, and my mom just kept on making him his rib eyes and buttered potatoes, so I had to figure out some dishes that, you know, wouldn’t actually kill him.”
“So you live-stream?”
“Actually, no.” She raised an eyebrow. “I edit and produce very professional videos. And by professional I mean that they don’t see me sneezing into the salad or tripping over the dog or any of the other things I’ve had to”—she made a scissors motion with her fingers—“hide. I protect my viewers from the rough stuff.”
He laughed outright. “How many are there?”
The Cookbook Club Page 16