Sink Trap

by Evans, Christy

  By the time Sean finished with me, it was nearing dark. Again. My arms hurt from hours of shoveling, and my back ached from hauling and leveling the gravel for the drainfield. I hadn’t been this dirty since I made mud pies in nursery school.

  Sean had been Barry’s number two for several years, and when I signed on, he had made it clear that he didn’t like the idea of women on the job. He relished the opportunity to give me the dirtiest, most backbreaking tasks he could find.

  I was not about to give him any opportunity to find fault with my performance. I’d already failed once in a man’s world, and I wasn’t going to do it again. I worked harder and longer than any man on the project, and I refused to complain.

  But I was very glad it was Friday, and I had the weekend to recover.

  I got home just in time to hear the answering machine click off. I had my cell phone with me, but when I pulled it from my purse, I realized I had let the battery go dead.

  There had been a time when I not only kept my phone fully charged every minute of the day, but carried a second, backup phone. As the CEO of a high-tech company, I couldn’t afford to be out of touch for more than a few minutes. Now I let my phone run down, and sometimes even forgot to carry it.

  I let the dogs out before I checked the machine. They ran into the gloom of the backyard, sniffing and barking, celebrating their freedom.

  I knew exactly how they felt.

  I punched the message button, and listened as I dragged off my boots and shrugged out of my coveralls. I’d need to clean and oil the boots, but that could wait until tomorrow.

  My mother had called, asking what I wanted for my birthday. It was still several months away, but I could picture her with her PDA and Bluetooth phone, setting up her calendar for the rest of the year.

  I imagined her tapping in an appointment in October to shop for my gift, after she finished her Christmas shopping, and I shuddered at the image. It was how I used to be.

  I dumped the boots and coveralls in the utility room, grabbing a clean towel from the pile of laundry waiting to be folded. I was either going to have to get better at housework or hire someone.

  With my bank balance? I started folding clothes while the machine played the next message.

  It was my mother, again. Just reminding me that we had a dinner date with Gregory for Monday night, and I was supposed to ask Wade to join us.

  There was a message from Sue, wondering if I had learned anything about the brooch, and did I want to bring Daisy and Buddha for a trim tomorrow afternoon, they had looked a little shaggy when she was here last night.

  I called the dogs in, and was ready for the shower when I heard Wade’s voice. “Hi, Georgie. Sorry last night didn’t work out. I’m finishing up here, and have the rest of the evening free. Want to cash in that rain check? I’ll bring dinner.” There was a pause, like he was waiting for me to pick up, then he said, “Just call me when you get in. We’ll figure something out.”

  I realized I was clutching my bathrobe around me, as though Wade were actually in the room with me.

  Loosen up, Neverall!

  I promised myself I’d call him back as soon as I was dressed.

  The last call was from Paula. “Hi, Georgiana.” Her usually cheery voice was at least an octave higher with stress. “I’ve looked everywhere for an address for Martha Tepper, but the only one I have is the house here, which doesn’t help at all. I would have sworn she talked to me about Tucson, but I can’t find an address, and I don’t have a new phone number, either. I tried the old one, but it just rang and rang, like you said. I called a couple people who should have her address and phone, but nobody does.” Her voice rose until she was nearly squeaking. “It’s not like her to just leave without checking in with somebody. I mean, she used to send me postcards when she went to weekend conferences. Give me a call as soon as you can, and maybe we can track down her new address. Or something. Please. Thanks! Bye.”

  The machine clicked off, and I rewound it to listen to Paula’s message again. Although she didn’t say she was worried, the strain in her voice told me clearly how upset she was. It would be easy to do some in-depth computer searching, but from what I’d seen at the library, Paula wasn’t all that computer savvy. That would be the first thing I’d show her.

  After a shower and clean clothes, I felt much better. Miss Tepper and her brooch were certainly a mystery—one that was beginning to be a serious worry—but not one I was going to solve on a Friday night.

  I called Wade’s cell, and cashed my rain check.

  “How about pizza from Garibaldi’s? I seem to remember it was your favorite.” His tone was light, but I got the sense that he was testing both our memories.

  “Sorry! I had their pizza last night. I’ve got leftovers in my fridge. It’s still the best,” I added hastily.

  Wade was quiet for a moment, probably thinking. It wasn’t like the town had a lot of options.

  “How about Tiny’s, then?” he said.

  “Sounds fine,” I replied. “Are they as good as everybody says?”

  “Better. But you’ve been back long enough to know that, haven’t you?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged, then realized he couldn’t see the gesture over the phone, and felt a bit silly. “How about if I meet you there?”

  “I’m just leaving the office,” he said. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Okay. See you in five.”

  Daisy and Buddha gave me their best sad doggy eyes as I headed out the front door. “I’ll bring a doggy bag,” I said to assuage the guilt they managed to inspire. “Promise.”

  Tiny’s was packed. The only tavern in Pine Ridge, it was the place to go on Friday nights, and tonight was no exception.

  Wade snagged us a table, and elbowed his way to the bar.

  I looked around Tiny’s while I waited. It was a place I always heard about as a kid, the spot where everyone gathered after work and on weekends, but it was strictly for adults. As a child, it had seemed exotic and forbidden, full of mysteries and magical smells, none of which I understood, but all of which I craved.

  Now I realized it was just a small-town tavern with battered and mismatched wooden tables and chairs, a dark wood bar, a couple beer taps, and a jukebox in the corner of a postage-stamp-size dance floor. The smells were no longer magical, just fry grease, smoke, and beer, though they still made my mouth water.

  As for the mysteries, I suspected they were still there.

  “I ordered chicken baskets,” Wade said when he returned with a couple schooners of draft, sinking into the wooden chair next to me. “Strips, fries, and the best cole slaw you’ve ever had.”

  “Pizza last night, fried chicken tonight.” I shook my head. “I’ll have to eat salad all weekend to make up for this!”

  “Not by what I see,” Wade said, giving me a once-over that somehow stopped just short of a leer. “Or what I hear.”

  “What does that mean, what you hear?”

  “My sources tell me you—and I quote—‘Worked your ass off out there’ today. Though”—he gave me the look again—“from here I would say that anatomical part appears to still be attached.”

  “Who said that?” Whom had Wade been talking to, and just how had my name come up, anyway?

  “Sean. He stopped by on his way home.”

  “Sean? The foreman? I didn’t know you two were friends.”

  “Acquaintances, more like it.” Wade took another swallow of beer. “He had some papers to drop off, and I was leaving a message on your machine when he walked in.”

  A waitress stopped at our table and deposited plastic baskets of chicken and fries.

  “So,” I said after she left, “what about Sean?”

  “Nothing much. He came in while I was leaving my message. Heard me say ‘Georgie,’ and asked if I meant Neverall. I told him sure, since there aren’t many Geor gies around here, and only one who I’d want to have dinner with.” He grinned, and touched my hand briefly. “He
said he’d be surprised if you weren’t too tired to even eat, and that was when he said you’d, well, you know.” Apparently, Wade wasn’t about to mention my backside a second time. Which was fine with me. “I gotta tell you, Georgie, that’s the nicest thing I have heard him say about a woman in probably two years.”

  “Yeah, nice.” My lingering soreness gave my words an edge. “I’ve noticed he seems to have an issue with women.”

  “Yeah,” Wade said. “Ever since his wife left him, Sean’s had a sour outlook on women. I don’t see that changing soon, but it sounds like he’s easing up a little where you’re concerned.”

  “Well, I can’t believe any woman would stay with him.” That sounded harsh. “Maybe I’m seeing the effect, not the cause, though. And you think I made an impression?” I thought about it for a second. “Wow.”

  The chicken had come fresh from the fryer, but by now it had cooled enough for me to chance a bite. The coating crackled when I bit into it, dripping steaming juices onto the paper-lined basket. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my chin.

  Wade glanced around. The tavern was crowded, but our table was tucked back in a quiet corner. He spoke quietly. “Pretty much everybody knew there was another woman. This is a small town. The gossip mill was churning full speed.”

  “What?!” I sputtered. “You expect me to, I don’t know, be understanding of his bad attitude because his wife left him, and then you tell me he was cheating? No sympathy here.” I leaned forward. “I don’t accept excuses for cheating. Remember?”

  It was what broke us up in the first place. Not that Wade had cheated, but he’d covered for a buddy who was cheating on Sue. When I found out, I made a grand speech about sisterhood, and how his complicity—yes, I actually used that word—made him just as guilty.

  I might have been a teeny bit over the top.

  Since I was still a kid, the drama queen genes I got from my mother hadn’t been tamed yet. I lived in hope that I’d do better these days.

  Of course, Sue found out anyway, dumped the jerk, and was still Prom Queen. My relationship with Wade never quite recovered.

  “How could I forget?” Wade winced. “But it wasn’t Sean chasing the other woman. It was Mindy.”

  “Mindy? Mindy Tabor? He married Mindy Tabor? And she was gay?”

  Wade nodded and took a long swallow of beer. “It happens.”

  “Wow.” I sat for a minute, staring into my beer. “Have to admit, that makes Sean’s attitude somewhat more understandable.”

  Wade tilted his head to one side, and studied me. It quickly made me uncomfortable, and I looked away. Finally he spoke again.

  “It was tough on him, no question. You remember how much of a small town Pine Ridge is, everybody knows everybody else’s business. There wasn’t any hiding what happened.”

  That was life in a small town, all right. It was one of the reasons I had hesitated to come back to Pine Ridge, for fear everyone would know what happened in San Francisco. I tried Portland while I took plumbing classes at the community college, but the chance at on-the-job training in Pine Ridge was too good to pass up.

  Now I was sitting in the local tavern, sharing gossip with my former high school sweetheart, and I wondered how much he really knew about me . . .

  “I can’t believe you didn’t know. You were always the one with the news, the 411 on everybody. You and Sue kept me up on everything. And now I’m the one breaking the big scoop.” Wade drained his beer and grinned. “Kind of a nice change, actually.”

  He pointed to my nearly empty schooner. “Another round?”

  “Sure.” The word was out of my mouth before I thought about it, and Wade headed back to the bar.

  I should have said no. I knew it. But I signed on for the second act.

  I guess that makes what happened next my fault.

  chapter 7

  If I had gone home early, we could have avoided the subject of Sandra Neverall, and her “friend” Gregory. But a second beer meant another hour in Tiny’s. The Councilman firmly believed in a “one drink, one hour” guideline.

  So did I. I was stuck.

  And another hour meant conversation that circled closer and closer to topics I didn’t want to discuss. As a distraction, I rattled on about the latest Homes for Help project. Wade told me he’d done some of the rough carpentry when they were framing the house.

  The shared connection gave me a warm glow. Or maybe that was just the second beer.

  At some point, I remembered dinner on Monday with my mother and Gregory, and told Wade. To my surprise, he didn’t groan or protest. In fact, he seemed to welcome the invitation.

  “You’re okay with that?” I asked him. “You don’t mind the command performance with my mother and her pal?”

  “Oh,” he said, with a look that said a lot more. “It’s like that, is it?”

  “Like what?” I refused to admit I knew what he meant.

  “You don’t like Gregory, do you?”

  “You’re answering a question with a question.”

  “You started it,” he said, not backing down. “And I asked you first.”

  I gave it a moment’s thought, then shook my head. “Actually, no. I asked the first question: if you were okay with having dinner with Mother and Gregory.”

  “Have it your way. Yes, I’m fine with having dinner with them. Gregory was a big supporter of my campaign when I ran for the Council, and we’ve worked together on a couple of committees. We get along just fine.

  “Now, it’s your turn to answer my question.”

  “Which one?” I stalled.

  “You don’t like Gregory Whitlock, do you?”

  I sat back and held myself straight in my chair. “I don’t know the man well enough to have an opinion.”

  “But you clearly do.”

  “Know him? No, I don’t.”

  “Have an opinion.” Wade’s voice was exasperated. “You clearly have an opinion of Gregory, and it isn’t positive.”

  “It’s not like that. I just don’t know anything about him.”

  “Except that he’s dating your mother.”

  “Is he?” I studied the foam on top of my beer, avoiding Wade’s eyes. I knew I would see sympathy, and I didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.

  “You know he is, Georgie.” Wade laid his hand over mine on the tabletop, and gave it a squeeze. “I know it’s tough. I went through the same thing when my mom started dating, after her divorce. Nobody was good enough.”

  He cleared his throat, and continued. “Nobody was my dad.”

  “I know that. I know she’s going to start dating. Dad’s been gone three years.” I bit my lip, but I couldn’t stop the rush of words. “But he’s married!”

  “Divorced,” Wade said. “Now.” He shrugged. “He and Tricia only stayed married for tax reasons, and”—he leaned forward, his expression hard—“I can hardly believe I told you that. It’s a gross ethical violation.”

  “I didn’t hear a thing,” I said hastily. “But he’s still her boss.”

  “Bzzzzzz! Wrong again, Georgie. He’s not her boss, never was. She’s an independent agent in his office. More like her landlord, if anything. Didn’t she explain that to you?”

  “We don’t talk about business.”

  Wade let go of my hand, sat back, and took a long pull on his beer. He shoved the empty basket that had held his chicken and fries to the edge of the table, and wrinkled his brow.

  “Then it isn’t just me.” He nodded. “That explains a lot.” He leaned forward again, and reached for my hand. “You don’t talk about business with anyone, do you, Georgie? You don’t talk about business, or where you’ve been, or what you did while you were gone. It’s all off limits with you.”

  “Wade . . .”

  He squeezed my hand. “You used to trust me, Georgie.”

  “I’m not the same girl that left Pine Ridge, Wade.”

  He laughed. “Thank heavens! She was seventeen, and that kind of dating would pure
ly destroy my political career.”

  I laughed, too, then grew serious for a moment. I squeezed Wade’s hand, and let go, cradling my chin in my hands.

  “It’s been a long time, Wade. Things change. People change. Trust takes time.”

  Wade studied me over the rim of his schooner for a long while. I forced myself not to look away. He had to give me time, and if he couldn’t . . .

  “Okay,” he said at last. “But when you’re ready to reveal the mystery of the missing years of Georgiana Neverall, just remember I’m waiting for the story.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure you’ll be among the first to know.” I reached across the table and shook his hand. Then I raised my glass.

  “To mysteries,” I said. “May they never be revealed too soon.”

  Wade grinned, and tapped his glass against mine.

  “Which reminds me,” I said as I set my beer down. I dug in the pocket of my jacket, hanging on the back of my chair. “Speaking of mysteries, do you recognize this?”

  “Miss Tepper’s brooch?” he asked. “Where did you get it?”

  I repeated my story again, omitting the drain pipe, and adding my visit to Paula.

  “You know who the brooch belongs to, and you can send it to her. Mystery solved. But you know Paula.” He chuckled. “That story will have as many heartbreaking moments as any romance novel in the library. Paula’s a sucker for a tragic love story.”

  “Maybe so, but don’t you think it’s strange that her brooch would be here, when she moved to Arizona? And her phone here isn’t forwarded, or even disconnected?”

  Wade shook his head. “Not really. You said yourself, she’s planning to come back. And people lose stuff all the time. Especially when they’re moving. You lost stuff when you moved, didn’t you?”

  I’d lost a lot of stuff when I moved, just not the material things Wade was talking about.

  “I suppose. I never did find the dogs’ water dishes. Had to buy new ones when we got here.”

  “That’s what I mean. Stuff gets lost. Sometimes it gets found, sometimes it doesn’t.

  “Nothing strange about it.”

  I let it drop. Wade was certain there was no mystery, and I was sure he was wrong. Miss Tepper wore that brooch every day. Even when you’re moving, you keep track of the things that are important to you.