by Joyia Marie
Instead, the new loft became my own little secret. Even the twins had never been here. At first, because the open floor plan wasn’t exactly kid friendly then because I need a place that was just mine.
“Chica, I’m going to let you go,” Sonya said, dragging me back to the present.
I snapped out of my trance to say goodbye and realized Sonya still hadn’t told me why she called. “Wait, you never said why you called?” I said hurriedly before she could hang up.
“Oh, Helen it’s nothing that won’t wait. Sounds like you have your hands full and you don’t need any added stress. However, I will say you need to think about what you’re doing. I don’t want to get a tearful call a month from now because Harold moved that blonde into your house and she’s playing mommy to the twins,” Sonya said grimly.
“Never mind all that. Seriously, why did you call?” I insisted.
“Okay, but it’s nothing new. Like you said, you have a new book coming out and the publisher is making their normal plea for you to do some publicity. I’ll put them off like I always do, but you know I always run this by you,” Sonya said woodenly like a kid dispensing a distasteful duty.
Yeah, she always runs it with me because she hopes I’ll change my mind. She’s gotten plenty of buzz for being the agent of LV but it would skyrocket if I ever came out of the closet. That so wasn’t going to happen now. I might not want custody, but I did want to see my kids and I had the idea an erotic romance writer might have problems getting visitation. Another thing I hadn’t considered last night.
“This isn’t the best time, especially if I end up in court about the kids,” I said firmly. , I didn’t mention it wouldn’t be the right time for about 6 years, but that was a fight for another day.
“I know, I know,” Sonya said quickly, I could picture her hands in the air in surrender. “But I have to run it by you. I’ll handle it.”
“Okay, I appreciate it. Good grief, how much more do they expect in sales if I do publicity? How much more money do they need?” I asked in irritation.
According to rumor, LV had pretty much saved Randal House, my publisher, which is why they weren’t being more insistent about the publicity. Sonya showed the book to an old friend at the publisher and that friend saw the marketability immediately. That friend is now hailed as a hero and RH was in the black.
“Honey, you know as well as I do that there is no such thing as enough money. You might be sitting on a gold mine, but the rest of us spend it as fast as we make it. Randal House took on a couple of promising new writers not too long ago and they have yet to live up to their promise. Haven’t even made back the advance, yet. So they are looking to recoup their losses through you,” Sonya confided. Her friend kept her in the loop at the goings on at the small publisher.
“All I’m willing to do is write and do the internet interviews like before. Plastering my face all over the place is not in the cards right now. I won’t do that to my kids and I won’t do that this close to a divorce. Harold is pissed right now and he might use this as an excuse to keep my kids from me entirely,” I said firmly.
“You don’t think Harold might spill the beans,” Sonya said back in her devil’s advocate role.
“Not a chance,” I said, not mentioning that Harold didn’t know. “His parents don’t know and they are too straight laced to handle it. Although, the last time I was with Gwendolyn I could have sworn I saw a paperback copy of one of my books in that black hole she calls a purse,” I ended with a giggle.
“You are kidding me,” Sonya said in disbelief. Sonya had met my mother in law and a more uptight woman you are never going to meet. It was hard to picture her snuggled up with one of my books and a cup of tea. Nevertheless, I know what I saw.
“Nope, but then again, her purse does have its own gravitational pull so maybe it was sucked in from another cooler purse,” I joked.
“Okay, Helen, that’s enough. You write erotic romance not science fiction,” Sonya kidded.
“Too true,” I said with a final laugh. “ I’ll let you go. There’s nothing here to eat so I still need to hit the grocery store.”
“There is nothing there at all. I’ve been there, remember? How are you going to live in that place?” Sonya asked in amazement, remembering my loft.
“Sonya, not all of us need the lap of luxury to survive. I have a place to lay my head and a place to work. I’ll be fine until I get some more stuff in here. However, before I do that I need to get a contractor in here to finish it. The bare brick and exposed pipe look is so last decade,” I said with a smile.
“Okay, I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows anyone who does that kind of work,” Sonya offered.
“That’s fine, but don’t stress yourself. I’ll ask around here and I hope to find someone local. If nothing else I’ll get some guys out of the phone book and take bids,” I said, “I’m in no hurry.”
I hung up the phone after a couple more goodbyes. I grabbed my purse and headed out. I still needed to get to the grocery store. I looked at my cell phone and saw no new missed calls. I took that to mean Harold hadn’t decided to test me. The school would have called by now, it was well after pickup time.
Sonya’s warnings kept trying to intrude, but I wouldn’t let them. Harold wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t sure what would happen with Jillian but her moving into Casa Asshole wasn’t an option. His parents would throw a fit. They were married for years and thought all this divorce stuff was a sign of weak character.
Harold would deal with enough shit for the divorce, let alone coming home with wife number two who was younger and an employee of the company. Harold Sr. would have a litter of kittens. Peterson Paper was billed as a family owned company and Harold Sr. loved playing patriarch. If necessary, he wasn’t above giving his son a spanking, even at his age.
No, I thought Harold was screwed and not the way he was used to. Again he thought with his crotch and not his head and it was about to come back and bite him in the ass. His bony, pasty ass, I thought grimly as I pulled out and headed to the grocery store.
Chapter Ten: Harold
Harold resisted the urge to toss his very expensive smart phone out of the window of his car. ‘How smart are you when you can’t even help me find my wife’, he thought at the tiny piece of electronics.
He had tried to get Helen one when he got his but she refused, saying all she needed was a phone to make phone calls. Not a tiny computer that tracked her every move. He wondered now if she had this scenario in mind when she opted for her bottom of the line phone.
He looked out his windshield at the same faded sign he was looking at for hours. The coming soon sign was tattered, letting anyone interested know that coming soon had come and past. This was just the latest in a long line of jolts this day held for him.
He startled awake this morning by the twins hovering over him at the side of the bed. They wore twin expressions of disapproval. He wondered what he had done already to earn their animosity.
“You need something,” he husked, his throat dry and his head pounding. The aspirin had worn off overnight and he needed his next dose. No, that big bottle was not long for this earth.
“It’s your turn to drive car pool,” Tonya stated, then he noticed they were dressed with their backpacks on their backs. Harold looked at the clock, horrified to find he failed to set the alarm. He was late. He jumped up and started toward the bathroom, but Tonya stopped him.
“We’re going to be late and the other kids are waiting,” she said firmly.
Harold grabbed a pair of sweatpants, wore the T-shirt he had slept in and slipped on some deck shoes. He had no idea who the other kids were but he hoped the twins knew or at least knew the directions. He had no idea Helen was in a car pool, but it would be helpful to know he didn’t have to do this every day.
He shook off the thought. He was going to go talk to Helen and get this straightened out today. He had supported her for years so she could be a stay at home mom so stay at home she would. Ev
en if he was no longer coming home.
“Uh, breakfast?” he said as he grabbed his keys.
“We’ve already eaten,” Tonya said firmly as she herded him away from the kitchen and the promise of a cup of coffee. He looked at the waiting carafe longingly as Tonya led him to his car.
The next thirty minutes were a blur as Tonya led him around the neighborhood like the captain of a ship. There were six kids in all including his two and the fit was a little tight but they managed. He saw now why Helen picked a minivan the last time she got a new car.
He deposited the kids in front of the school and Tonya was the last one out. She gave him another long considering look and waited expectantly. He wasn’t sure what she was expecting so for a long minute they stared into each other’s eyes silently. The only thing the kids had inherited from Helen was her dark brown eyes.
“Are you going to be picking us up?” Tonya asked breaking the impasse.
“That’s still up in the air,” Harold temporized.
Oh God, he hoped not. His head was still ringing from the six chattering kids he just drove in. He was not looking forward to another ride on the pre-teen hormone train.
“When did you say Mom is coming back?” Tonya asked drilling him with a look. Harold felt beads of sweat break out on his forehead. He wasn’t in the best shape to deal with his daughter after a bad night’s sleep and no coffee.
“She didn’t say. You know how your mother is,” Harold said vaguely hoping it would end the inquisition.
He needed a shower and coffee before he tried to traverse this landmine-infested landscape. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Tonya her mother wasn’t coming back and maybe if he could catch up with Helen he wouldn’t have to.
“Yes, I do know how Mom is,” Tonya agreed and Harold experienced a moment of relief. “But I also know she usually goes to the loft on the week’s she doesn’t have car pool or trades with someone if her work won’t wait. So why didn’t she do that this time?”
Harold’s eyes bulged as he frantically tried to think of something that would satisfy his daughter and get her out of his car. Tony was standing on the sidewalk behind her waiting to walk with his sister to class and he was no help. Harold knew he couldn’t lie because a lie would come back to bite him in the ass. Tonya had a memory like an elephant.
He breathed a huge sigh of relief as the bell rang. “You two need to get moving,” he said firmly. “You don’t want to be late. Have a good day in school.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Tonya said slowly as she pulled herself out of the car. “You have a good day at work and we’ll see you later.”
Her piercing stare said this wasn’t over and Harold had the course of this day to figure out something to tell his daughter that would satisfy her. He shuddered as he watched the twins’ lock step up the steps to the front door of the school and disappear inside. He didn’t take a deep breath until he saw the door close behind Tony’s narrow shoulders.
He stared blankly at the door until a car honked behind with more late arrivals. The parents had looked at him a bit strangely when he pulled up to the various houses to collect the other children in the car pool.
One mother gave his unshaven disheveled state a cautious look before allowing her daughter to get into the car. Harold had the feeling the only reason she did was the twins were sitting there neatly dressed and okay with the homeless man piloting the car.
Harold looked in the rearview mirror and had to admit he had looked better. His hair was uncombed, his beard was coming in, and he had bags under his eyes. He looked like the sixth day of a five-day drunk and a feeling of shame passed over him. He knew he had to get the kids to school at least this morning so why hadn’t he made sure he set the alarm?
Harold’s eyes dropped to the clock in the dash and he cursed. He’d have to hustle to make it to work on time. There was no way to make his usual arrival time of 8:30 but if he hurried, he could be there by nine, his official start time.
Harold zipped home and ran to the bedroom. He hastily washed up and shaved before running through the world’s quickest shower. He wasn’t sure he got wet, but he did make sure and hit the hot spots, his armpits, and crotch.
He’d take another more through shower later before he went to see Jillian. Then he cursed. How was he going to go see Jillian with the twins? At twelve he was sure they’d be fine alone for a little bit, but he wasn’t going to do that his first night at home with the kids. He was definitely sure he didn’t want to leave Tonya alone. If she found out about Helen’s defection at his behest, while he was gone, he was sure to return to a pile of smoking embers.
This firmed up his decision to track down his wife and make her come home. Okay, she had had her little joke, but it wasn’t funny anymore. He had a full time job and all she had was her writing. She could write anywhere, which she proved when she was on bed rest with the twins.
At her demand, he purchased her an over the bed table sturdy enough to hold her laptop and she had happily typed away. One of the few things he did right during her pregnancy. She smiled when she worked, but for him all she had was grim glares. He was sure all the suppressed anger was what had led to her blood pressure being all over the place and the doctor’s decision Helen would be better off her feet for a bit.
Once he was dressed, Harold walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee to take with him. He reminded himself to set up a pot for the next day. Helen usually did it after she cleaned up the kitchen, which was why it was waiting for him this morning. He shook his head. Had it really only been last night that all this drama occurred?
He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sight of a broad rear peeking out of the dishwasher. The older woman stood up and grabbed a cup off the counter. Harold almost moaned as she lifted the coffee carafe and poured the last of the coffee into a huge cup.
Harold’s caffeine starved senses almost prompted him to jump the strange woman with the iron colored hair scraped back into a severe bun but a look at her thick arms stayed him. Her biceps were bigger than his were and Harold had his doubts as to who would emerge the victor in that encounter.
“You want coffee?’ asked the woman in a low Germanic grumble. “I make more.”
Harold rushed to stop the woman as she opened the cabinet and grabbed a can of coffee. He’d get a cup at work, but first he needed to know was who she was and what she was doing in his kitchen. “No, don’t trouble yourself,” Harold said in a politely inquisitive tone.
Who was this woman and how could he ask without sounding like an idiot. He was getting the feeling he knew a lot less about what happened in his house than was good.
The woman set the coffee can back in the cabinet, then looked at him politely as she sipped her coffee. She didn’t seem disturbed by his presence, which put her one up on him. She seemed content for him to take the lead and he would if he knew what the lead was. She belonged here, but under what auspices and for how long, Harold had no idea.
“Who are you?” Harold finally asked when it looked like she’d be willing to stand and sip coffee until the end of time.
“I Mrs. Gunderson,” the woman said, holding out a broad firm hand. Harold took the proffered hand cautiously; aware it was every bit as large as his was. He winced as she squeezed it and gave it a firm shake before turning loose. Harold held off shaking it, he was sure he’d get the feeling back without any assistance. He hoped.
Harold looked at the woman hoping she’d continue, but she seemed to feel her name was the only explanation she needed. Harold envied her her confidence. He had no idea what a Mrs. Gunderson was or why there was one in the kitchen.
He was tempted to leave the mystery for another time, but he couldn’t. He could just imagine coming home to a well-robbed house and explaining to the police why he left a strange German woman standing in the kitchen sipping coffee.
“Why are you here?” Harold asked uncaring how rude that sounded.
He was running late and the last thing needed was
to be late to his father’s company. His father was punctual to a fault and held everyone around him to the same standard. Nothing could make his gray brows raise or his wrinkled face frown faster than someone being late could. This was why Harold usually got to work thirty minutes early. His father was usually there before him with his office door open so he could catch the late comers.
“I clean, I cook,” Mrs. Gunderson said with a curiously proud expression on her broad Slavic face. “I work for Mrs. Dudley for twelve years. It great honor to clean and cook for granddaughter of Antananarivo.”
Harold frowned. The name sounded familiar, but the only grandmother he knew of Helen was someone named Gert. A woman famous for her quick draw and short temper. Harold, suddenly realized he had gotten off lightly.
Yes, she had left when she found out he had another woman, but at least she hadn’t shot him. He vowed to tread lightly and keep both of Helen’s hands in sight when he went to talk to her this afternoon.
Did Helen have a gun, he wondered. Before all this started, he would have confidently said no. Then again, until this morning, he didn’t know she had a Mrs. Gunderson and there was one standing in the kitchen.
“Okay…” he said, not even getting into the question of Helen’s married name.
She refused to take his name when they married claiming she had a reputation as Helen Dudley as a writer and didn’t see why she should have to give that up just to become his wife. He frowned at this. For a woman so ready to embrace ‘normal’ as she called it, she was strangely lackadaisical about following the norms of ‘normal’.
He gave Mrs. Gunderson a nod, then grabbed his briefcase and left. She was the housekeeper and been one for years, so he assumed it was okay to leave her there. She had a key or how else did she get in while he was in the bedroom?
Harold drove quickly to work, pondering about the question of the housekeeper. She was a mystery. Her accent said she had just arrived on the last boat from Germany but she’d worked for Helen for years. Her arrival coincided with the arrival of the twins.