The two men stayed silent. "Go with him."
"Are you sure?"
"Cops patrol about the main road because it heads straight to and from the border," Vicente said, making it up as he went along. This was better than running away to Hollywood. His chest ached at the memory of her but he lifted his chin. "They keep an eye on it all day and all night."
"You know what you're getting into, kid?"
"I'm no kid."
"You better be on the money," the gunman said. "Or it won't be pretty."
Chapter Fifteen
Dori flinched when someone pounded on the door.
"Anyone home?" Gavin called.
She blinked, having been engrossed in Vicente's story. How long had she stood in the now dark and empty pantry? If she kept this up, she'd wind up like crazy Bernice.
Her cheeks puffed out as she released her breath.
She yanked the cord from the bare bulb in the ceiling. The light stung her eyes and she squeezed them shut and opened them wide so it wouldn't look to Gavin like she'd been standing in the dark for who knows how long.
Dori opened the door and was nose-to-nose with Gavin’s solid chest. She breathed in and thought he still smelled the same.
"I heard you in there talking," Gavin said. "I didn’t mean to scare you."
"You didn't. I was just-"
He glanced behind her. "Were you on the phone or something?"
"Yes," she said, seizing the perfect excuse.
"Oh. Well I finished up with the sink."
She shoved her hands in her pockets and then crossed her arms over her chest. "Great. Thanks."
"Your Grammy and her friend left."
"I figured that."
Gavin craned his neck to look behind her. "It’s kinda dark in there."
"Yes, it is," she said. "Are you done for the day?"
"Yeah, but we’ll be back bright and early tomorrow. I didn’t want to leave your house unlocked."
"Okay. Thanks."
"In a week, you think you'll be ready to get to work?"
"Yes, but-"
"No buts. We made a deal."
Dori wished she had just a pinch of Sela’s entitlement. But Gavin was right, and he had access to the vital organs of her house. With no work or other engagements, Dori could find Anna in a week. "Fair enough. What do you want me to do?"
"Strip."
Dori didn’t blink.
"I mean the paint," he said, his face relaxing into a teasing grin. "In the hallway."
"After I strip it, who’s repainting it?"
"You are."
"Wait a second-"
"Hold on." He held his hands out as if to ward off a blow. "Let me show you."
He turned and walked towards the hallway. Dori noted that he had learned his way around her house pretty quickly. He waited by the door and swept his arm to indicate she should go first.
She did, keeping an eye open for Vicente appearing out of thin air. Dori cleared her throat, hoping the ghost would get the hint: no pools of blood or walking through walls.
Gavin led her into the hall, held out his arms and said, "So where should I start?"
Dori realized that Gavin was right: the yellowish pink walls looked sick. Brown stains scarred the plaster ceiling and some sadist had flanked the mantle with cheap bookcases. Everything was scuffed and chipped and down at heel. She felt Gavin watching for her reaction.
"I see what you mean," she said, keeping a stoic face.
"If this were my place-" He stopped when she turned to him. "Never mind. I’ll bring paint samples tomorrow. But don't touch this wood. Only the plaster walls."
"I won't."
"I know a guy who specializes in this stuff. It's redwood that was shipped down the Columbia River."
"How do you know that?"
"Or, it came from Northern California. The guy I was telling you about, his grandfather built the flumes that they used to transport the trees from the mountains to the river." There was an awkward pause before he asked, "You want to see what we did today?"
"Sure."
"Unfortunately, we found some more problems," he said, opening the basement door and reaching into the pitch black. "I managed to get your sink working for now, but I’ll bring in my plumber tomorrow."
Dori sucked in a sigh. He found the light switch and she went down the steps. She came to a slow halt, astonished by what she saw before her.
Lights hung from the ceiling by hooks. What had once resembled a hell mouth had been stripped down and swept clean. Tools were neatly piled under the coal shoot against the wall.
"It’s so clean," she blurted out.
"A clean site is a working site," he said. "And a safe one."
He cleared his throat. "I wanted to show this to you. See that bottle?"
She bent down to peer at an old wine bottle shoved between the river rock foundation and the floor. "Yeah."
"Someone thought that could help hold up your house." He ran his fingers along the cement between the rocks and it crumbled away.
Dori shivered as she thought about going to bed tonight.
"And see here? Someone cut into this beam when they added plumbing to the downstairs bathroom."
She obligingly looked up to where he was pointing. "And that’s not good?"
"Not when the beam is supposed to support your house. Anyway, we’re going to replace all of this with new 2500 psi, steel reinforced concrete and put in steel T straps to these girder beams." He reminded her of an artist who saw something beautiful on a blank canvas. "When we’re done, this place won’t go anywhere and none of the doors or windows will stick because the house will be level again."
"And the pipe?"
"My guy is going to look at it, and then after we get it retro-fitted, he’ll come back and reroute the pipe. The downstairs bathroom won’t have running water for two or three days."
"Really?"
"Sorry but-"
"No, I mean only for three days? You guys work fast."
"Well, it’s how we-"
They both jumped when the door slammed shut at the top of the stairs. The force of it sent a rush of cold air against her back that zigzagged up her neck and sparkled across her scalp.
Damn him, she thought.
But Vicente wasn’t done yet. The lights flared and then the dark dropped down on them. Dori held her breath. The dark was so thick that it felt as if it pushed her eyeballs back into her head.
"Hold on," Gavin said, moving beside her. "Stay where you are. I’ll help you up the stairs."
"I don’t need you to-"
She started when he stood close enough that she felt his warmth. His hand cupped her elbow. "It’s just me," he said gently. "We’ll take it slow."
His other hand slid across her lower back and then he led her through the dark.
"Here. Grab the banister," he said. Her sweaty hand found itself stuck to the splintery wood. His hand rested on top of hers.
"You can let go." She stepped away from the hand on her back and felt her balance wobble. "I can walk up the stairs."
He squeezed her hand, and she clenched her jaw. "You sure?" he asked.
She concentrated on lifting her foot onto the first step. Even though she knew the steps were there, the oppressive black made her feel like she was about to plunge off a cliff. When her foot touched the riser, relief rushed through her. She took each step slowly, holding her hand out before her.
"Did this happen when you guys were working today?" she asked.
"They would’ve told me if it did."
"Where were you?"
"Running my business." She could almost hear the smile on his lips. "I have other jobs, too."
"I just thought-"
"I’ve swung enough hammers to earn the right to manage things. I bought this business from my old boss."
Dori’s heart jolted when her outstretched hand bumped into the door. "Got it."
"You can let go of my hand then," he said and she realize
d she’d climbed the whole way latched onto him.
"Sorry," she mumbled, snatching her hand back. She felt the door for the knob. Her eyes squinted from dim light of the hallway that cracked and widened as she opened the door.
When she stepped into the hallway, she walked into the now familiar invisible wall of ice.
"Man," he said, as he walked up behind her. "Weather stripping and insulation should be next on your list."
Dori pretended nothing was wrong as she scanned the dark corners for Vicente. She wondered if sprinkling holy water on him would have the same satisfaction as kicking him between the legs.
"I’ll check the breaker," Gavin said.
"You don’t have to-"
"Let me. Really. Somehow this could get back to your grammy and then she’d really let me have it."
Dori clenched her hand that was still warm from holding his. "In that case, knock yourself out."
He saluted her. "Will do."
She waited till he was out the back door before blowing out a long breath and pressing her hand against her chest. She wasn’t sure what discombobulated her more; Vicente’s trick, or the way her hand felt in Gavin’s. If she wasn't so screwed up right now, she'd do anything to get him to hold her hand again. But with their track record, the last thing she needed was a vengeful ex working on the foundation of her house.
The back door opened, and Dori heard Gavin’s heavy footsteps approach. "Everything looks all right. Did the lights come back on?"
Dori pushed the basement door open and peered down the steps. Vicente saluted her, glowing cheerfully at the bottom of the stairs.
She pulled so hard that the door slam reverberated up her arm. "No. Not yet."
"Here let me-"
She stepped right in his path. Gavin stopped just short of bumping into her. "Let it wait till tomorrow," she said, her hands itching to slide up his chest.
"Why?"
"Have your guys work on it tomorrow. It’s not like I have to go down there for anything."
"Really?" He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "I don’t feel right about that."
She squeezed the doorknob so tight that her skin burned. "It’s fine."
Dori waited for Gavin to remember the rules of personal space. Instead, he just stood there as the house went silent all around them.
"What are your plans tonight?" he asked quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"My what?"
He rocked his weight from foot to foot. "Your plans."
Dori’s pulse thrummed in her throat and her hand shot up, scratching a non-existent itch on the back of her neck. "Uh, nothing. Just doing some research online."
He looked up with a frown between his eyebrows. "Research?"
"Family stuff."
He yanked his hands out of his pockets. Neither looked each other in the eye. "If I, uh, take another look downstairs, I’ll be out of here in two minutes."
Remembering Vicente waiting down there, Dori held her hand up to block him. "Gavin wait, it’s-"
She forgot what she was about to say when he pulled a flashlight out of his back pocket.
"You had a flashlight?" she asked.
"Yeah, I always do."
He’d played her. Dori let go of the door knob and stepped out of his way.
"Be careful down there," she said, hoping Vicente scared the hell out of him.
Gavin opened the door and the lights turned themselves back on. "Looks like the problem fixed itself." He snapped off his flashlight. "I’ll turn everything off and have the guys check out the wires."
Dori tucked both hands into her the back pockets of her jeans to keep from shoving him down the stairs. "Thanks."
"Not a problem. But don’t forget next week," he said. Without looking back, Gavin strode across the hall and then out the kitchen door.
Chapter Sixteen
"I’m ready," Grammy called out breathlessly like she was late for a date. She entered the kitchen wearing head-to-toe purple, finished by a shawl with an embroidered peacock on the back. Dori wondered how she was going to fit in the car without breaking off the real feathers glued to the peacock’s behind.
"Take my picture so I can post it on my Facebook," Grammy said, handing over a blinged-out iPhone.
"Where did you get all this tech?"
"Your cousin got it for me with her employee discount."
In their family, an "employee discount" meant it was carried out the back door when no one was looking. Dori took her photo and then handed it back.
"So what do you think of my outfit?"
"Very colorful," Dori said. She'd been waiting to be confronted about Bernice the phony psychic, but Grammy hadn't gone there. They were careful with each other, which was a good sign. If Grammy had really been mad at Dori, she never would've opened the front door and let her inside.
"Go cut me some of the roses by the kitchen door."
"How many?"
"All of them."
"Are you sure?"
"When am I ever not sure, mija? Now go. I have to check my comments."
"Since when did you get on Facebook?"
"Last week. I tried to 'friend' you, but you're not on it."
"What do you post?"
"Oh this and that."
Dori would rather not know. She walked into the small laundry room and automatically reached for the cutters hanging from a nail hammered into the wall. The sun had broken through the gray clouds that hung low in the sky. But more were coming. The yard smelled of pepper trees and wet earth.
At this very moment, there were men digging trenches around the base of her house. She hoped Vicente didn't scare anyone to death. She'd left right after Gavin and his crew arrived. From the window, she'd watch him direct his crew easily, without being a jerk. But when he briefly spoke to her, he did it like he hadn't held her hand last night.
It was his fault he had hidden the flashlight, making her grab onto him in the dark. For a moment, when they'd climbed out of the dark basement, it felt like they could be friendly.
When Dori had a handful of roses, she paused in clipping off the thorns. She went back inside and wrapped them in a wet paper towel. "Are you sure you want to go out?" she called out from the kitchen. "It looks like rain."
Grammy hadn’t heard her. Dori carried the roses into the living room where Grammy opened and closed the screen door. "Did you mess with my door?"
"I tried."
"But I keep telling you to leave it. Chuy said he was going to do it."
"But it never gets done."
The screen slapped against the doorframe. It made an ominous crack and then slumped down crookedly, hanging from the last screw.
"Look at what you did!" Grammy scolded. "I told you not to mess with it."
"Well, don’t hold your breath waiting for Chuy."
"You know what your problem is?" Grammy jabbed the air with her house key. "You’re too negative. You always think the worst, which is why Bernice didn't work."
"But-" Dori clenched the roses and a thorn she had missed bit into her hand. She dropped them on the floor.
"Ay, what is up with you, girl? Pick them up!"
Dori bent down and carefully gathered the roses. Broken petals scattered over the rug and she wondered how long it had been since the place had been vacuumed. She pocketed the petals so Grammy wouldn’t see them.
"You ready to go?" Dori asked, her voice straining after getting yelled at. Her chest hurt because she hadn’t done anything wrong.
"I’ll call Chuy on the way. He’ll fix it if I make him dinner."
With her nose lifted so high in the air that she might topple backwards, Grammy marched to the car. Her peacock feathers fluttered indignantly in the wind.
In ticked-off silence they drove to the cemetery. Patches of blue sky shone through the holes in the gathering clouds. A lone crow walked across steep road, waiting until they were almost upon him to fly away.
Chuy hadn’t answered Grammy’s p
hone calls, and his girlfriend claimed not to know where he was. Dori tried not to smile over that small victory while Grammy texted or Facebooked or whatever she did on that stupid phone.
As Dori parked in their customary spot, she seethed over how she was the only grand kid who didn’t take advantage of her grandmother, but somehow she got most of her crap. Maybe she ought to call Chuy or her brother, Robert to drive Grammy to the cemetery once a week. She bet they’d fall all over themselves to do it. But once again, Dori rounded the back of the car to help her out.
When they got to Grampy’s crypt, a mishmash of wilted turquoise carnations, roses and dried eucalyptus branches bulged from his bronze vase.
"Look what that loca did!" Grammy shouted, her voice echoing off the marble walls of eternal slumber. The wind blew the peacock feathers against her back.
It could only be the work of Great Aunt Norma, Grampy’s youngest sister who lived her life as if Catholicism was a full-contact sport.
"You know what? I'm gonna report her for going around and stealing from the other graves. She's nuthin' but a grave robber!"
"Why don't you take a picture for your Facebook page?"
Dori braced herself for a scolding. But Grammy stared at her, clearly stricken. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Guilt seeped through the cracks of her anger. "Sorry, I was just trying to be-"
"Throw all that out!"
Dori pulled the arrangement apart, separating the freshest flowers.
"What are you doing?"
"Recycling." Dori stuffed the nicer flowers into the vase of a husband and wife who had died in the 1960s. Even if they came from Great Aunt Norma, Grampy’s cemetery neighbors might appreciate the gesture. No one left them flowers anymore. If Kaylee had aimed higher, Dori wondered if anyone other than Grammy would remember to put flowers on her grave.
"Be right back," she told Grammy, who ignored her.
Crows cawed in the distance. Dori looked out over the cemetery and thought of Vicente. She slowed to a stop as it occurred to her that he might be buried here. She decided that Grammy could use more alone time with Grampy and walked past the sink, towards the office.
The hot, coffee-scented air made her face tingle. A bell jangled against door when she stepped inside. She could hear Dr. Phil on TV in the back room.
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