Her Ex Next Door

by Beverly Farr

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Would you have dated me, and asked me to marry you if I wasn’t Miranda’s daughter?”

  “But you are her daughter,” he said calmly. “That’s part of what’s made you who you are.”

  But she wasn’t sure she liked that part of herself. She persisted. “Pretend for a minute that I have no parents, no financial prospects. Let’s say I sell the condo to pay all my debts, and I have nothing left, just me. Would you still want to marry me?”

  Phillip walked around the table to give her a hug. “I love you, Ginny. I’d marry you even if you had nothing.”

  Ginny searched his face, wanting to believe him.

  “I love you, too,” she said, and kissed him.

  Three hours later, she sat parked in her car outside Miranda’s house. It was nearly midnight. Phillip had convinced her to approach her mother for a loan, and she knew it was the logical solution, but walking up that stone pathway would kill her.

  Closing Innovative Designs was like losing a child.

  How could she let her company die without doing everything possible to save it?

  She saw that one of Derek’s upstairs lights was on, so she walked over to his house, and pressed the doorbell.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Derek opened the door. “Aren’t you worried about what the neighbors will –--” he started in a mocking tone, then stopped as he saw her more clearly in the porch light. “What’s wrong? Are you ill? You look like someone’s died.”

  She laughed weakly. “You’ve won. I’ll decorate your house. But I need the money up front.”

  He took her by the arm and escorted her to the kitchen. She accompanied him without protest. “You bought chairs,” she said in a little voice as he pulled out a bar stool for her to sit on.

  “I got tired of eating over the sink.” He sat next to her and leaned his arms on the counter. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

  She noticed that he was only wearing a pair of blue striped pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His feet were bare. He never wore pajamas nine years ago, she thought idly, then wondered if he had company. Female company waiting upstairs? That could be awkward. She said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask – is this a good time to talk? I don’t want to interrupt any--”

  “Don’t let your imagination run away with you. I’m alone. The only thing you’re interrupting is a baseball game on TV and a carton of Chinese fried rice.”

  “That sounds good,” she said, suddenly hungry. She hadn’t eaten much with Phillip earlier. She’d had no appetite. Even now her stomach still felt like a stone.

  “I’ll get you some,” he said quickly. He opened the stainless steel refrigerator. “I have shrimp fried rice and broccoli beef.”

  “Either is fine.”

  She watched as he scooped the food out into a big cereal bowl and put it in the microwave.

  She was surprised by how tired she felt. It must be the aftereffect of the shock she’d gotten this afternoon. It had taken all her energy to work with the bank, and then to talk to Phillip -- she had nothing left.

  Derek asked, “So what happened between this afternoon and now, to make you change your mind?”

  “Does it matter as long as you get what you want?”

  “Probably not.” The microwave timer beeped and he handed her a steaming bowl of rice and vegetables. “Careful, it’s hot.”

  “Where’s a fork?”

  He looked around the bare kitchen. “I’ll have to wash one,” he said, matching actions to his words. He washed a plastic fork at the sink and handed it to her, still damp.

  She frowned at the fork, turning it over in her hand, then asked the question that had been bothering her subconscious mind for days. “Why is this house so empty? Where’s your stuff from California?”

  “Most of it’s in storage, and a lot of it isn’t worth keeping. It’s mostly odds and ends I picked up over the years. In California, I was working too hard to pay much attention to my house.”

  “All work and no play?”

  He nodded. “Then I rented a furnished place in Dallas for a few months while the office was getting set up and this house was being remodeled. I was spending so much time over here, I finally decided to move in early. I left most of my things in storage so the workmen wouldn’t have to trip over it.”

  “Where do you sleep?”

  “I have a mattress and a TV upstairs.”

  “Sounds like the place you had in Arizona.” He’d been living in a converted garage before they were married. Sometimes she wondered if they should have tried to live there instead of moving to the more expensive basement apartment. It would have been crowded in the garage, but it might have lessened the money problems, which might have prolonged the marriage.

  But it was too long ago to be asking “what ifs” now.

  He nodded, remembering. “I never was one to care much about where I lived, but this house is different. Here, I want everything done right. I want to make something that lasts.”

  She saw the pride of possession and love in his eyes. Highland Park had that effect on people. “I’ll do my best to create the home you want,” she promised. It was the least she could do after hurting him years ago.

  “How soon can you start?”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I can come over at nine-thirty in the morning. But I’d like to be paid then.”

  “I’ll pay you now,” he said, standing. “How much do you need? I assume it’s a need, because you wouldn’t be here unless you were desperate.”

  He knew her too well. She appreciated that he didn’t pry for the embarrassing details, and that he didn’t ask her why she hadn’t asked Miranda for help. She lifted her chin. “I need thirty thousand dollars.”

  He didn’t blink. “I’ll get my checkbook,” he said and walked up the stairs. He came down a few minutes later, with a check made out to her name for the amount of sixty thousand dollars.

  She looked back up at him, alarmed. “This is too much.”

  His deep blue gaze met hers. “Crises are always more expensive than you think they are.”

  “If this is some kind of charity --–”

  “No, it’s not charity, and it’s not a gift or a loan. Take it. It’s payment -- in advance -- for your design services. I’m paying a premium because I want all your time for the next three weeks.”

  “All my time?” That would be tricky, but she could put her other clients off for a bit, if necessary. She looked at the check with his bold handwriting. She felt a wave of relief, knowing that she had a few more months to get Innovative Designs back on its feet. “It’s a deal.”

  As she folded the check and put it in her purse, she wondered why it was easier to accept money from Derek than from her mother. It wasn’t as if he owed her anything. She’d been the one to walk away from their marriage, so he had no obligation to be generous now.

  She wanted to make that very clear. “I’ll charge you my standard fee, and when I’m done, if you’ve paid me too much, I’ll give you a refund.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll earn it.” He smiled. “Also, as soon as my house is finished, I’ll withdraw the auction of your wedding invitation.”

  Ginny realized that with the stress and worry about Innovative Designs, she’d forgotten all about that auction. “Why not now?”

  “You never give up, do you?”

  “Since you’ve already agreed to pull the auction and don’t plan actually to sell the invitation, what difference will a few weeks make?”

  “Leverage, Ginny. It’s always good to hold a little something back until the deal’s done.”

  #

  Ginny stopped by her mother’s house the next morning. Crandall said she was in the exercise room. Ginny walked upstairs to a bedroom that Miranda had converted to a gym. There were mirrors along one wall and windows that looked out into the backyard along another. The room was filled with her Pilates equipment, floor mats, and a set of free weights
. Miranda lay on a table while her masseuse pounded her shoulders and back with the edges of her hands. She turned her head to face her daughter. “Is Derek going to stop that auction?”

  “He’s working on it.” She didn’t want her mother to know that it might take another three weeks before the invitation was withdrawn.

  “Good. I checked this morning, and people are bidding two thousand dollars.”

  It was difficult to determine from her tone whether she was irritated by the attention the sale was generating or by the paltry prices offered.

  “The sooner that auction is pulled off the Internet, the better. One of these days one of my friends is going to see it, and then everyone in Highland Park will be talking about it.”

  Ginny tried to change the subject. “I’m going to be spending a lot more time on Adele Circle in the next few weeks. I’m going to be decorating Derek Landon’s house.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  She bristled. Was that another jab at the work she did? Miranda often spoke of Innovative Designs as if it were nothing more than a hobby. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing, except I saw you kiss him in the garden the other day.”

  Ginny froze. Technically, Derek had been kissing her, but that didn’t matter now. “I can explain –”

  ”You don’t need to explain to me,” Miranda said lightly. “If you want to have one last fling before you settle down - that’s your decision.”

  “I am not having one last fling!”

  Miranda belatedly noticed that the masseuse had paused, no longer kneading her shoulders, and that the woman was listening intently to their conversation. “That’s enough for today,” she said coolly.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Miranda waited until the masseuse left, then wrapped herself in a thick white towel and sat up on the edge of the table. “Whatever it is, you needn’t worry I’ll tattle to your fiancé.”

  “Thank you.” Kissing Derek was not something she wanted to explain to Phillip. It was difficult enough explaining it to herself. Why had she let him talk her into one last kiss, unless secretly she’d wanted it?

  Her mother continued, “But I must say, I think you’re making a mistake. You’re too young to settle for someone like Phillip. Being married to Derek would be a lot more fun.”

  “And he’s rich, too -- is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Money isn’t everything, darling. But it does come in handy.”

  Miranda should know. Every one of her husbands had been wealthy.

  “But maybe you’re wanting a marriage that will last,” Her mother said thoughtfully. “In that case, keep Phillip. He’s the kind that will stick around forever.”

  Ginny’s interest was piqued. What did Miranda sense about Derek that she hadn’t noticed herself nine years ago? “Why do you think a marriage to Derek wouldn’t last?”

  “He wouldn’t be faithful. The good looking ones never are.”

  “That’s not true!” Ginny said vehemently, then caught herself. “I mean, it doesn’t matter if he’s faithful or not. I’m not going to marry him.” Again, that is.

  “You do whatever you think is best,” Miranda said calmly. “You always have.” She hopped down from the table. “Now I have to get dressed. My personal trainer will be here at ten.”

  Ginny glanced at her watch. “And I promised Derek I’d be at his house fifteen minutes ago! Good bye, Miranda.”

  “Remember we’re going to The Retreat this afternoon to make a final decision on the wedding cake,” her mother called as Ginny hurried from the room. “You might want to skip lunch because we’ll be taste-testing.”

  Ginny spun around. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten another appointment. What was wrong with her lately? Normally she remembered all her obligations and was punctual, if not early. “I can’t go. Derek and I are shopping for furniture this afternoon.”

  Miranda didn’t seem upset. “That’s fine, dear. I’ll go by myself. Maybe I’ll invite Phillip to come along.”

  Derek wouldn’t care what kind of cake it was, as long as it was loaded with sugar, but Phillip was pickier. “Good idea.”

  #

  Ginny carried a stack of magazines into his kitchen and placed them on the granite counter with a thud. Today she wore jeans and a v-necked t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a simple pony tail. She looked like the girl he had loved for so long.

  But Derek couldn’t go back in time by wishing. He had to deal with the here and now. She hadn’t been happy to see him again, that was obvious, but if he played his cards right, she might change her mind. But he had to be careful. He had blackmailed her into working for him, and if he pushed her too hard, she’d bolt.

  “Okay, now for the fun part,” she said briskly.

  Derek had a feeling that her idea of fun and his were too different things. “I thought we were going shopping.”

  “There’s no point in looking until I know what you like,” she said reasonably. “And with only three weeks to work, we can’t waste time. Here, these will give you some ideas.” She handed him several magazines: a home decorating magazine, one on architecture, a magazine about hotels, one for retirees, and a parents magazine.

  “What – no sports magazines?”

  “That would be fine, if you want your bathroom to look like a dugout.”

  “I was thinking more of a golf course.” He pointed. “Maybe some artificial turf in the living room, with a little rise in the dining room?”

  “Very funny. Be glad I’m not taking that comment seriously.”

  “No one really wants a golf course in their living room, do they?”

  “You’d be surprised what some people come up with. I try to offer them more aesthetically pleasing options, but sometimes it’s impossible.”

  “I thought the customer was always right.”

  “Theoretically, perhaps, but I have my limits. If someone wants me to design a room that I find revolting, I decline the job. It’s better to pass it on to someone else who would enjoy the work.”

  “Like Mr. Purple?”

  “Exactly. Now, let’s get started,” Ginny said. “I want you to flip through the magazines, and any page that has something you like on it, rip it out. It doesn’t matter if a couch on one page won’t go with a chair on another. I want to get a feel for what appeals to you.”

  Derek felt a little foolish looking through the magazines, but he understood her need to know what he preferred. He saw a red couch and ripped that page out. Then a lamp and a rug. A porch swing.

  Within twenty minutes, he’d gone through fifteen magazines and ripped out more than fifty pages. Ginny set out the papers on the kitchen floor in rows. As she put the first dozen down, she said, “I can see you like clean lines, dark woods, light walls and rich colors.”

  She was fascinating to watch.

  She continued, “You tend to like traditional designs more than modern.” She stopped when she came to one picture. “What do you like in this one – the bed, the quilt or the bookcase in the corner?”

  He glanced at the picture. “The quilt.” It was a black quilt with bright triangles of color arranged in an interesting design. “You hate it,” he guessed, seeing her frown. “Are you ready to send me back to Mr. Purple?”

  “No, I like it.” she said finally. “It’s a traditional Amish quilt.”

  “Is that going to be hard to get?”

  “No, I can get you one, if you want it. We’ll have it shipped out of Ohio.”

  He nodded. “I want it.”

  “Something like that would look good on your dining room wall,” she suggested, then added, “But let’s see the other pages you’ve ripped out.” She put more of the pages down and came to a picture of a woman in a bikini. She turned the page over, as if she was looking at the wrong side, and saw an article on toxic mold on the other side. She hesitated, confused.

  Derek said innocently, “You told me to rip out what I liked.”

&
nbsp; Her eyes blazed with annoyance. Apparently she didn’t find his attempt at humor amusing. “I already knew you were a red-blooded American male.”

  “I thought the bikini would look good on you.”

  Ginny slapped the paper down on the floor. “That is exactly what I was afraid of. I can’t work with you if you make everything personal.”

  Careful, Landon. Better to retreat now than to lose the war. “Old habits are hard to break.”

  “You’ve had nine years to break them.”

  I thought I had. “You’re right,” he said quietly. He took the page with the offending picture, crumpled it, and tossed it in an arc toward the wastebasket. “Now, let’s get back to business.”

  #

  After fifteen minutes in her favorite furniture store, Derek had the look of a deer caught in the headlights. It was a serious case of sensory overload. Ginny should have known better than to make him come along, but she was accustomed to working primarily with women, and she hadn’t wanted to buy something he hated.

  “Let’s speed up the process,” she suggested. “I’ll pick out what I think will look good, and you have the final veto. If you hate something, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll just get what I think is best. I won’t bother today with the small items. We’ll focus on the large pieces, and we should be out of here within an hour.”

  “Good.” He sounded relieved.

  She motioned for a store clerk to join them. “We’re going to be buying a truck load of furniture today,” she informed him. “And I need a scanner to keep track of the items we want.” The young man hurried to get her the scanner and quickly showed her how it worked.

  “It looks like something out of science fiction movie,” Derek joked as she scanned the tags on two lamps and a side table.

  “Sit on that couch and tell me what you think.”

  He sat obediently, sinking down into the couch until his knees were almost as high as his shoulders. “It’s fine, if I never want to stand up again.”

  “Too low,” she said decisively, and moved on. She pointed. “Sit on that one.”

  Within minutes, they’d picked out a set of bookcases, a dining room table and chairs, and matching love seats for the library. Speed shopping could be fun, she realized. It was exhilarating to see something she liked and buy it, without second guessing herself.