by Freya Barker
“And you didn’t think to let Sanders know? Heck, to tell me?”
Oh yeah, he’s not happy.
“I did think of that, but I want to look her in the eye when I inform her the pointless resentment she has for me could’ve easily cost me my life.”
“Damn right it could’ve.”
I put an appeasing hand in the middle of his chest.
“I know, honey, and I want her to bear some consequences for that. Besides, other than her giving out my address, which is against hospital regulations, I don’t see there being any law against what she did,” I justify.
He covers my hand with his own and some of the anger drains from his eyes as one corner of his mouth pulls up.
“You want revenge,” he accuses in a soft voice.
I shrug. “Not that, per se, but some accountability for her behavior, yes. She’s made my life difficult long enough and I was never in a position to call her out on it. Now I am, and she’s taken it a step too far.”
“Fair enough, but you’re not going alone.”
It’s my turn to grin. I’d never admit it out loud, but I kind of like it when he thinks he can order me around.
“I figured as much.”
I was right. It was every bit as satisfying as I imagined it to be.
She was caught off-guard when I confronted her and started denying it when Radar piped up and told her it would be easy to confirm with Mrs. Philips, since she was already singing like a canary. I guess it was enough for her to turn her anger on me and slip up, saying she was sorry I apparently walked away unscathed.
That’s when the director of nursing—who’d been alerted by Linda at my request—walked into her office and dismissed her on the spot.
Petty? Perhaps, but after years of walking on eggshells around the woman and putting up with her abuse, I felt it was no more than she deserved.
“Feel better?” Radar asks me when we get into his truck.
My car is still in the lot at the mechanic, where he’s agreed to take me next so I can finally pick it up.
“Yes, and not only because I enjoyed watching her get her dues, but also because she might well have used her position to bully someone else. She’s just a mean and vindictive person.”
He gives my knee a squeeze with his hand before putting the truck in drive.
“You’re going the wrong way,” I tell him when he turns left instead of right at North Avenue. Chris’s shop is on the east side of town and we’re heading west.
“I just need to make a quick stop,” he says, pulling into a Honda dealership.
He doesn’t say much else, but I have my suspicions when he coaxes me out of the truck and has me look at a couple of Honda CRVs that just came off lease.
A salesman is following us around, eager to tout each vehicle’s features if we show any interest. He’s annoying me and apparently Radar as well, who abruptly turns on the man and in no uncertain terms tells him we need some time to ourselves.
As soon as the guy is out of earshot, I face Radar.
“What are we doing here?”
He puts his hand on the side of my neck, lightly curving his long fingers at the back.
“Moving forward, I hope,” he says, a barely-there smile and mellow eyes softening his face. “What do you think we’re doing?”
I grab on to his wrist and tilt my head toward his hand.
“Buying a car I can’t afford?”
“Aside from that,” he presses. “You ready to move forward?”
My stomach is instantly assaulted by an army of butterflies and a hint of panic is setting in. I know what he means, I’m not an idiot, but am I ready? What will it look like? Am I supposed to give up my apartment? Is he? What if it doesn’t work out, or after a month we can’t stand each other, what then?
“Relax, I can practically hear the panic wheels grinding. Let me make it easier for you.” He leans his forehead to mine. “I love you and I want a future with you. Now I’m okay waiting for you to be ready to take the next step, but I’m already there. After these past few weeks, I can’t see us going back to sleeping alone, even some of the time. I want to make this permanent—move in together—and I don’t care where. Your place, my place, somewhere new that can be ours. We’ll figure it out as we go.” The butterflies turn into melted goo inside me and a lump forms in my throat. “But if you want to w—”
“I don’t,” I cut him off, covering his lips with my fingers. “No need to wait. Let’s look for a new place.” With my momentary panic gone, I’m on a roll, my mind going a mile a minute. “Maybe a little house with a yard for the dog. Oh.” I catch myself smiling up at him. “Make that dogs, because I want to…”
I was about to say ‘adopt one’ but Radar swallows the words as he kisses me with such passion, I’m pretty sure we could get cited for indecency.
“Done,” he says, grinning when he finally lets me up for air.
My own face is cramping, I’m smiling so big.
I’m really doing this.
We’re really doing this.
There’s only one more thing to clear up.
“But why are we looking at cars?”
Chapter Thirty
Hillary
“Oh, my God. It’s so pretty!”
I throw Rosie a dirty look as she admires my brand-new Honda CRV.
“What color is this?” She runs her hand over the shiny, light, blue-gray paint.
“Sonic Gray Pearl,” I grumble.
It had been a month-long, ongoing argument that ended this morning when I left for work to find the SUV in the spot where I left my silver Honda Civic last night. Fine, I had been driving around with a hole in my muffler for a week and it sounded like NASCAR came to town.
It’s not like I couldn’t afford to fix it. I’d received a certified check in the mail last week from one Bernard Briscoe. You could’ve struck me down with a feather. Apparently, his stepson admitted to defiling my car on orders of his cousin. I guess the check was Briscoe’s last step in an attempt to wipe the slate clean, after he apparently filed for a divorce from the boy’s mother. I’m sure the fact municipal elections are on the horizon has nothing to do with that. Not that there’s any chance I’d vote for the weasel.
Anyway, this new car was waiting for me this morning. Radar left before I did and apparently took my old keys out of my purse and replaced them with the SUV’s. I had about fifteen minutes to get to work and he wasn’t answering his phone when I stood fuming in the parking lot. I had no choice but to drive it to the shelter, where Rosie was waiting for me at the front door.
Apparently, someone had been in the know and failed to warn me.
“Some friend you are,” I complain, as she walks around the vehicle oohing and ahhing.
“Don’t be a grump,” my best friend says. Although that’s a title I’ll seriously have to reconsider. “Cars are a guy thing. Believe me. Remember when Jake tricked me and bought me my SUV?”
“Yes,” I hiss. “Which is why it’s a mystery to me how you could be complicit in this. If I recall correctly, you were furious with him.”
She smiles one of those swoony smiles she reserves for her husband.
“I was, and then I wasn’t. I have a better understanding now.”
I snort and plant my hands on my hips.
“Really? Pray share.”
She flaps her hand. “Oh, like I said, it’s a guy thing…an honor thing. They can’t have their woman drive around in a crap car or someone might think they don’t know how to take care of them.” She puts a hand on my arm. “Trust me, girlfriend, you may wanna throw this battle, there will be plenty of far more important ones ahead.”
She starts walking inside and I grab my purse and lock the doors, unable to resist a last glance over my shoulder at the pretty color. Rosie is grinning with the door open when I head in.
“Admit it. You like it,” she whispers when I walk past her.
“Shut it.”
Her giggle
follows me to the cafeteria, where I load up with a large coffee and one of Brad’s muffins. I’d better be careful now I’ve started full time, pastries every day will definitely start to pack on.
Rosie has already disappeared into her office and I slip into mine, closing the door—save a crack—so I can hear what’s going on outside. Then I sit at my desk, take a big swallow of coffee, and grab my cell.
“Lady,” he answers, a smile evident in his voice.
“Murray Jansen,” I say in my sternest voice. “You don’t play fair.”
He chuckles softly.
“Something had to happen, babe. We spent too much time bickering over the same thing, not getting anywhere, when we both know this was going to be the result anyway.”
“It was not,” I protest, but he’s right. I was only hanging on because I didn’t want to give in.
Now he’s full-out laughing.
“You’re a shit liar, you know that?”
“Whatever,” I grumble.
“Do you like the color?”
It’s on my lips to say no, but I can’t bring myself to disappoint him. It was the color I would’ve picked if I’d been there and it makes me feel good he knows me well enough to get it just right.
“Yeah. It’s pretty.”
“Good.”
His voice goes warm and deep, and I wish he were here so I could thank him properly. I’ll have to tell him instead.
“Thank you, honey,” I whisper.
“My pleasure.” I can hear him smiling. “Now can we move onto the next thing?”
“Which is?”
“I found a house.”
That takes me by surprise. I’d gone to month-by-month two years ago, but Radar just signed the initial lease on his apartment a couple of months ago. We’d agreed it would make sense for me to give my notice, put surplus furniture in rental storage, and stay in Radar’s place for the duration of the lease. I have to vacate my place by the end of June.
“I don’t understand. What about your apartment?”
“That’s for later worry,” he says easily. “Look, I have a meeting I’ve gotta get to, but how about we go have a look at it tonight?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Sorry, Lady, I really have to run. See you later.”
He hangs up before I can respond.
Radar
“You’re in so much trouble.”
Bree shakes her head as I make my way through the main office.
Jake has a big mouth.
He’s the one who noticed the For Sale sign and alerted me a couple of days ago. I made him swear not to mention anything to Rosie until I had a chance to have a look at it.
It was something Dad said when we visited him a couple of weeks ago that got me thinking. He asked now that I found myself a good woman when I planned on making an honest one out of her. I told him hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he reminded me I wasn’t in my twenties anymore and neither was Hillary. He made it clear he expected to see some grandchildren before he was too old to enjoy them.
Dad was never one for tact, but at least he waited until Hillary was out of the room before he opened his mouth.
It did get me thinking, though, which is why when Jake mentioned the house, I jumped on it. Before I ask her to share the rest of her life with me, she needs to know I’m serious and can take care of her.
The CRV was first, the house is next, and the most difficult hurdle will be getting rid of her remaining student loan. It’s a drop in the bucket for me, but it is a matter of pride for her. I foresee many discussions on that subject.
I flip Bree the bird over my shoulder and wish Lena a good evening before I walk out into the parking lot. Hillary will likely already be home and have taken Phil for a walk. I’m late today because of the new job Yanis has me working on. I’m eager to get home but I have one stop to make.
Twenty minutes later I pull into my parking spot, check the back seat to make sure the blanket covers my surprise, and hop out of the truck.
She’s in the kitchen, Phil sitting at her feet waiting for her dinner. Already my dog has picked Hillary as her new favorite person and barely looks up when I walk in. Little traitor.
“Where are we going?” she says, setting down Phil’s food before straightening up to face me.
“Well, hello to you too,” I counter, reaching for her.
I can tell she’s still a tad peeved, but that doesn’t stop me from pulling her flush against me and laying a heavy kiss on her. Her body relaxes in my arms and her hands curl in the shirt on my chest.
When I release her mouth, her lids are heavy and her eyes are soft.
“Hey,” she whispers, and I tap the end of her nose.
“Much better,” I share, and immediately see I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, because just like that the fire is back in her eyes.
“Now will you tell me where we’re going?”
“Come on.” I grab her hand and pull her to the door. “It’s better if I just show you.”
I had the restaurant double wrap everything, but I can still smell the food when I open the truck door for her. Luckily Hillary is too annoyed and distracted to notice.
“Are we going to Jake and Rosie’s?” she asks when I turn onto 28 Road.
“Nope.”
I bite off a grin when I catch her glaring at me from the corner of my eye.
I drive past our friends’ house and make the next left onto Beechwood Street. About halfway down the block, I pull into the driveway of the stone and wood paneled, two-story, two-door-garage home with the For Sale sign stuck in the front lawn. I put the truck in park and glance at Hillary.
Surprise and what I hope is a happy smile brightens her face.
“Are you serious?”
“Wanna go have a look?”
“You mean we can just go in?”
I fish the key the realtor—who happens to be a friend of Yanis—lent me and dangle it in front of her.
“Nobody lives here. The owners moved out four days ago as a result of a job transfer and are hoping for a short sale.”
What I don’t tell her is that Mitch, the real estate agent, already has a provisional offer, which I hope I can give him the go-ahead on tonight. It all depends on Hillary’s response, which so far looks positive.
She gets out of the truck, taking in the mature trees surrounding the property, the well-maintained front yard, and the modern, yet rustic appearance of the house.
“Open concept main floor with a separate den. Three bedrooms and two full baths upstairs.” I round the truck and hand her the keys. “Have a look around. I’ll be right behind you.”
The interior of the house could use a few improvements I hope she’ll be able to see beyond. To facilitate the quick sale, the price is quite a bit below market, even with the marginal overbid I offered on it.
I also counted on the fact it’s right around the corner from Rosie and Jake’s place to be a selling point.
I watch her open the door and tentatively step inside before I start gathering the bottle and glasses I hid under my seat, and the bags and the blanket from the back seat of the truck. Instead of heading inside, I round the side of the house to the backyard.
As well maintained as the front, the backyard is like a little quiet oasis. Surrounded by mature trees that provide privacy, the yard also has a rock garden, complete with pond and small waterfall. The sound of the water drowns out what little traffic noise you’d hear and only adds to the sense of a rustic hideaway.
I’m unpacking the containers with tapas I picked up on my way home, when I hear the sliding door open and Hillary steps out on the small deck.
“This place…” she starts but doesn’t finish.
I walk over to her and take her hand to lead her over to the small stone patio under the trees, where I set up our dinner. I glance over but can’t really gauge the expression on her face.
Suddenly nerves hit me. As I watched her go in the house earlier, I was s
o damn confident she’d love it. I’m not so confident now.
“So what do you think?” I can’t help asking when she lets me help her down on the blanket but stays silent, her eyes on the food and the bottle of wine.
“My grandparents lived in an apartment on the main floor of a noisy, old building that has since been demolished. That’s where I grew up.” I notice the hitch in her voice, and I grab for her hand. “When I got myself through college all I could afford was a bedroom in someone’s basement.”
“Lady,” I start to interject, but she sharply shakes her head.
“Let me finish. The apartment in our building is luxurious compared to some of the places I’ve lived.” Then she lifts her head and I see tears pooling in her eyes. “A house—an actual house with stairs, and a garden, and no neighbors knowing every move you make—was always a dream of mine. Something I could strive for, work toward, once I paid off my loan.” She turns away and looks around the garden and up to the house. “This is so much more than the little modest home I’d imagine myself growing old in. I’m overwhelmed,” she admits, her eyes coming back to me.
My fingers tighten around hers.
“Remember I told you this was a short sale?” I wait for her to nod before I continue. “We can get this place well under market value. It’s a great investment, because even if we flip it back on the market right away, we’d make our money back and then some.”
I lose her eyes when her head drops again.
“I have enough set aside for emergencies, but not for a down payment on a house or even part of it.”
“I’ve been lucky. Lucky enough to be able to sock away some money. At this price I’m able to buy it outright. I love you, let me give you your dream,” I plead.
She shoots me a sad smile.
“As sweet as that is, and as much as I love you back and would love to call this place home, it wouldn’t feel that way if I hadn’t contributed to it.”
I lean closer and take her face in my hands.
“I figured you’d say that, which is why I came up with a plan B. I put down sixty-five percent of the purchase price…in ratio to my income,” I have to add quickly when I see her frown. “We take out a mortgage for the remaining thirty-five percent, which you can pay.”