As she got dressed, she wondered if she could earn the extra money somehow--maybe get a summer job, like Di had with the clothes shop. But how much could a job like that earn her? It would probably take a lifetime of summer retail work to save up the sort of money she needed.
The phone rang, and she picked up the cordless receiver from her nightstand and pressed the button. “Hello.”
“Hi, honey,” her mother said at the other end of the line. Her voice sounded slightly edgy.
“Hi, Mom. What’s wrong? You sound funny.”
“Nothing much, but I’ve run out of my sinus prescription, and my head’s killing me. Your father’s working today, so I can’t get to the drugstore. Is there any chance you could go for me?”
Her mother belonged to a rare breed of suburban women who didn’t own a car. Growing up in the city she’d never needed one and, after marrying and moving to the suburbs, she’d gotten her license but rarely drove. Lara couldn’t imagine always being dependent on other people to take care of errands like this for you, but her mother claimed she was too nervous to deal with the stresses of traffic.
“Sure, Mom,” she said. “I have some other errands to run in town, anyway. I’ll pick it up and stop by your place in an hour or so.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll make something for lunch.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
After they hung up, Lara took her purse and fetched her checkbook from her desk so she could pay her property taxes. She’d been putting off the huge bill until the last minute, and now she would have to stop at Town Hall in person in order to pay before the deadline. Of course, the taxes were virtually going to wipe out her checking account.
She frowned. Maybe she would have to get a summer job just to make ends meet. Forget trying to renovate the house. The thought depressed her. Sometimes she felt like she needed a decent studio just to keep herself sane.
Twenty minutes later she was waiting for a receipt at the appropriate window in Town Hall when she noticed something on the felt board behind the clerk. This office also handled building-permit applications. Applying for hers seemed precipitous since she had no money for the renovations, but a stubborn streak in her swore she was going to get it. She had to. Maybe she’d play the lottery or appear on a game show and win the top prize. Maybe she’d borrow part of the cost from her parents. In any case, she’d find a way.
“Can I have an application for a building permit, too?” she asked the clerk.
“Sure,” the woman said. She went to a file cabinet and came back with several sheets of paper, along with a clipboard and pen. “You can sit over in the waiting area to fill these out. Then return them to me.”
Lara sat down and trudged her way through the mercilessly long form. Near the end of the application she came to an oddly worded question she didn’t understand. She went back to ask the clerk, but now another woman stood at the window chatting away with her, obviously a personal friend.
After a few interminable moments, the clerk looked past her friend’s shoulder to Lara. “Are you ready to turn that in?”
“Actually, I have a question.” With the other woman beside her practically breathing down her neck, Lara pointed out the section she didn’t understand.
“Oh, you don’t have to answer that,” the clerk told her. “That’s for office use. It looks like you’re finished. Let me check for you.”
Lara handed her the forms. While she waited for the clerk to look them over, she could feel the other woman’s gaze on her. Uncomfortable, she avoided looking in that direction.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the woman finally asked her.
Lara turned to face her. Tall, slim and attractive, she had stylishly short red hair and wore a sleek, dark-green business suit with a short skirt. Her catlike green eyes looked vaguely familiar. “Yes, I think so...but I’m not sure where we could have met.”
“She’s Lara Peale,” the clerk interrupted. “She was married to Liz Sulley’s cousin, Ron. You know Liz--my old high-school friend.”
Surprised, Lara looked back at the clerk, who didn’t appear familiar at all. Sometimes the town of Falls Borough could be too small for comfort.
“You’re right, Paula,” said the redhead and turned toward Lara again. “Paula and I went to a New Year’s party at Liz’s a couple of years ago, and you and your husband were there. Do you remember us? I was wearing a long black dress.”
“Oh, y-yes,” she said, recalling the party but not her or the clerk specifically. “You’re right. That’s it.”
“So you’re divorced now? That’s too bad.”
“It happens,” she said, not eager to discuss her personal life with a stranger.
“I see you got the house in the divorce,” the clerk noted, still looking at the permit application. “I remember Ron had a big old Victorian. Lucky you. But why would you want to build an addition on that big place?”
“I have a room I want to expand,” she said through clenched teeth. She got her checkbook back out of her purse. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a hurry. How much do I owe you?”
“Just the twenty-five dollar application fee for now. You’ll be billed for the rest if they approve your request.”
“Is everything else in order?” Lara asked as she scribbled out a check.
“Ye-es...” she said, still reading the forms. “There is one thing, though. Maybe you should talk to the historical society about--
“Thanks, but I already have.” By this time all she wanted was to get away from the two busybodies. “Well, my phone number is on the application, so if there are any questions, I’m sure they’ll call me. Thanks for your help.”
Before either woman could ask another question or make another unwanted suggestion, she slid the check under the glass and turned to go. Catching the redhead’s eye, she said, “Nice seeing you, er...I’m sorry. What was your name?”
“Karen.”
“Right--Karen. Take care.”
She walked away quickly. As she turned out of the office door, she heard the redhead say just within earshot, “What a bitch.”
Lara snorted and shook her head to herself. The woman was probing her for information about her divorce--the most painful experience she’d ever gone through--and yet she was the one who was a bitch!
During her walk down the block to the drugstore she thought up half-a-dozen clever comebacks she wished she had shot back at the redhead. If she met one more encroaching stranger this week, she was really going to give him or her an earful!
* * * *
When Mark got up that morning and saw sunlight streaming through his window, he decided to walk into town to the office-supply shop. Since he’d left his manuscript at Lara’s the other day, he needed to print out a new copy, but he’d run out of paper. Going back to pick up the old one had crossed his mind, only to be dismissed. He and Lara continually rubbed each other the wrong way. Since he still had his computer files, he’d worked from them over the weekend.
He went downstairs to the main floor of his apartment, a place he loved because the building had been converted from an old schoolhouse. While he made coffee and fixed himself a bowl of cereal, his final words to Lara replayed in his mind. In hindsight, he saw that he shouldn’t have brought up her ex-husband’s family. Alluding to her divorce had been a cheap shot. He’d gotten carried away, annoyed by her attitude about the secret room and further agitated when she’d used the phrase “I can’t promise anything.” Karen had said the same thing on more than one occasion when he’d tried to pinpoint where he stood with her. Shortly after the final time, she’d broken up with him. She’d said she needed time to get over her divorce before she could handle another relationship.
A week later she was back with her ex.
As he sat down to eat, he wondered if he’d been extra hard on Lara because she too was a divorcee--and an attractive one. She didn’t look like Karen or have her personality, but the few traits they had in common made him wary of
her.
Damn it, he thought, poking at his cereal without much appetite. He wished he could help her see her home for what it was, but she would never listen to him. The best he could do was try to put her and her house out of his mind and hope she didn’t go through with her plans. She’d mentioned that she was depending on the grant for money. With any luck, she’d never come up with the funds to ruin her place entirely.
During his walk into town, Lara kept coming back to his mind. The inconsistencies in her personality bugged him. Her lack of appreciation for her home didn’t seem to fit in with her chosen profession. He hadn’t actually seen her paintings, but her well used “studio” showed how much time she spent on her art. How could she have no talent or taste? Or was his attraction to her making him look for a way to believe there was more to her then there was? He really should have asked to see some of her paintings.
He reached the office-supply shop and picked up a package of paper then dallied for a while. As he browsed the aisles, the thought began to nag at him that he should use the manuscript he’d left at Lara’s as an excuse to visit her again. If she had any sense of aesthetics at all, she had to be capable of seeing reason about her house. Maybe her problem with it boiled down to disliking the Victorian style--but if so, then why didn’t she move somewhere else? And he still couldn’t explain her indifference about the secret room.
His questions continued to bother him, and by the time he paid for the paper he’d resolved to see her again. The only thing he didn’t know was when he’d feel up to facing her. He started for home, debating how soon he could stop by without being too much of a pest.
“Mark!” a familiar feminine voice called from behind him before he’d gone half a block.
Karen. Without looking, he knew it was her. For an instant he considered pretending he hadn’t heard, but that would have been childish--and probably useless.
Slowly, he turned around and saw her hurrying toward him. She looked clumsy mincing in her high heels and mini suit. The contrast of Lara’s casual dress and graceful movements flashed in his mind. She seemed so much more down-to-earth than his ex. They really couldn’t be much alike.
“Hi!” Puffing from the exertion, Karen smiled up at him. “I’m so glad I ran into you.”
“Hello,” he said, wondering why she wanted to talk to him. They hadn’t had any contact in weeks, and he felt oddly detached from her, as if she’d become a stranger. Maybe he was finally coming to realize that he’d never truly known her in the first place.
“I was just visiting my friend Paula at Town Hall, and an interesting thing happened. By any chance, have you met a Lara Peale in connection with the historical society?”
He stared at her, startled to have Lara’s name brought up when he’d just been thinking about her. His surprise quickly evolved into annoyance that Karen hadn’t even asked how he’d been doing. She’d dumped him less than two months ago, but she acted as though they were on perfectly friendly terms. “Yeah. Why--how do you know her?”
“Well, I met her briefly at a party a couple of years ago, but that’s beside the point. She was in Paula’s office just now, and she mentioned having talked to the historical society about her house.” She pushed back her short-cropped, dyed-red hair, though every strand fell back into the exact same position. “Frankly, Paula and I thought she was lying to us. I had to check with you.”
Had Lara complained about him--but what did it matter anyway? His impatience with Karen outweighed his curiosity. “Why do you care, if you hardly know the woman?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You seem defensive. How well do you know her?”
He frowned. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn she was jealous--but that was ridiculous. “I’ve barely met her. As she apparently told you, she has business with the society. She applied for a grant for some work she’s doing on her house.”
“I see. That must be why she was applying for a building permit.”
Lara had applied for her permit? Again, he was stunned. Where had she gotten the money for the addition? He tried to hang onto the tiny bubble of hope he had for her house, telling himself that maybe she’d come up with another plan.
“Mark?” Karen interrupted his thoughts. “I was asking what you thought of her house.”
“Oh, it’s very nice--in good condition.” He really had no desire to get into the topic with her. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay and chat. I have an appointment in half-an-hour.”
“Wait a minute,” she said before he could get away. “If you’re going to be working with that Lara Peale, there are a few things you should know about her. Paula was telling me that the woman’s poor ex-husband lost his shirt to her in their divorce. Apparently, his family had owned their house for generations. Now it all belongs to her.”
Of course he knew that, basically, but the remark struck a nerve, especially after the news he’d just heard. Lara’s house really would have been better off in the hands of her ex...but why Karen thought she had to warn him about the situation was a mystery. What could he do about it?
“I’m not sure I see your point,” he said.
She looked at her fingernails, glossy pink and an unlikely length. Today she seemed artificial to him in general; he no longer trusted her. “If you’re interested in her, Mark, I’d think twice before getting involved. I mean, I guess she’s attractive, if you like the earthy type, but she sounds like a gold digger.”
He could hardly believe what he was hearing, considering the source. Karen, who had returned to a man with a drinking problem and a tendency for compulsive gambling, was now trying to advise him about relationships. He almost told her off but decided she wasn’t worth the energy.
Looking past her, he said, “As far as I can tell, the only money Ms. Peale is after is a grant from the society to build an art studio--and, actually, she’s probably withdrawing her application.”
“An art studio?” She raised her eyebrow again. “That would be a commercial venture, wouldn’t it? It’s funny, because the permit she applied for was residential.”
The news surprised him, but he didn’t know for sure whether Lara sold her work or not. He wasn’t even familiar enough with zoning laws to know how rigid they were. If she peddled a piece of art here or there, he guessed it wouldn’t matter, as long as she didn’t run a full-blown gallery on the property.
“I’ll have to ask some of my friends on the zoning board about it.” Karen tapped her chin with her index finger, a fake gem gleaming on the tip. “They might want to look into the case. I guess the historical board might give her some flak, too, considering her request to tear down that outside wall.”
So she did still plan to tear down the wall. It took all his will not to react. How on earth had she come up with so much money so quickly? Now it looked like it was too late to talk to her again, as he’d been considering. After this, he definitely couldn’t talk to her calmly. The situation was hopeless, he realized.
He looked down at his watch. “One o’clock. I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”
“Oh, no problem.” Karen gave him a funny, twisted smile. “I have a new client to meet, anyway.”
“Hope it goes well.” Without ceremony, he turned away.
As he started up the street she called after him, “Keep in touch, Mark! I miss hearing from you.”
“Yeah, right,” he muttered to himself without looking back.
He fumed the whole way home. Karen’s stopping him and sticking her nose into his business was bad enough, but Lara’s recklessness really upset him. She couldn’t even have taken a week to think over the points he’d made? No, she had to rush down to Town Hall today--even though she had so much to do she hadn’t had time to look at the secret room with him on Saturday. She had no problem coming into town and filling out all the forms required for a building permit!
When he got home he slammed the printer paper down on his desk. The bang made him cringe. Louder than he’d expected, it had probably given
his neighbors a start.
Telling himself to relax, he went to the refrigerator and got himself a beer. At least he seemed to be getting over Karen. He could truthfully say that today she hadn’t appealed to him in the least. She’d seemed so phony with her claims of missing him and her concerns about his involvement with Lara. He wondered if she was a little jealous. After all, how happy could she be reunited with that idiot she’d divorced?
He popped off the cap and took a swig, walking into the living room. His aggravation over Lara was harder to dismiss. She’d completely ignored his warnings. The woman wouldn’t know a valid opinion if she tripped over one. To think he’d spent the last two days going back over their conversations and trying to convince himself she might be more than a pretty face. Amazing what thinking with one’s brain fixed below the belt could do for a man’s intellect.
Planting himself in front of the TV, he noted that the whole mess could have been worse. If he hadn’t found out so quickly how shallow Lara was, he might have done something truly stupid, like asking her out. For the first time he acknowledged that the idea had been in the back of his mind, as much as he’d denied it. What was wrong with him anyway? Did he have a thing for divorcees?
He picked up the remote control, making a mental note to stay away from previously married women. What was that saying about used cars? Why take on someone else’s problems?
None of it mattered, he thought with another gulp of beer, now that he saw Lara for what she was. Maybe Karen’s interfering had done some good.
He remembered his ex’s musings about consulting the zoning board, and he felt a little funny. He was the one who’d let it slip that Lara intended to build a studio. As much as he opposed her plans, he didn’t like the idea of being a rat. Telling himself it was her responsibility to obey building codes didn’t seem to help. Which was more important--preserving her house or his integrity?
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