Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

by Seana Kelly

  “He can do that? Just sell the house out from under her?” Pops continued on the phone.

  I put my hand out, and Chaucer stepped forward, sliding his head under it. I gave him a scratch as I walked past. “Yeah. He can, Pops. California is a community-property state. She inherited it while married to him.” I heard a hiss and turned to look. I could see Heather through the doorway, motioning to Chaucer. He shifted his head, back and forth between us, one foot in the air, ready to go to her. I waved him away, and he trotted to her desk. “Katie doesn’t have the money to buy him out. The only option is selling the place. It’ll at least give her the money to get started somewhere else.”

  Silence. “Oh.”

  “Listen, Pops. I gotta get back to work. Don’t worry about Katie. She’s as good as gone.”

  I hung up and sat down hard. Damn. She was as good as gone.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kate

  AFTER PICKING UP CHAUCER, who was not locked in a cell, I stopped and bought two big cans of sauerkraut on my way home. I was not dealing with that crap again tomorrow. When I pulled up to Gran’s house, the exterminator’s van was parked out front. Harvey had picked up the key from me, but I’d been so busy, I’d completely forgotten.

  He stepped through the front door, as Chaucer and I got out of the car. “Heard you drive up. I’m done here. You had one heck of an infestation, miss.” He scratched the back of his neck, and pulled out a notebook. “Let’s see. I pulled a family of opossums from your attic—”

  “Wait.” I held up a hand, my voice pleading. “Don’t tell me. I can’t handle the truth.”

  He paused, nodded slowly and replaced his notebook in his back pocket. “Fine. I only found a small fawn. She was wobbling through the front room. I shooed her out, and now your house is completely clean.”

  “Aww, did you hear that, Chaucer?” I patted his head. “All those noises we heard were coming from a sweet, little fawn.” I shook my head, smiling at Harvey. “I feel so silly for being worried.” I walked up the steps and hugged Harvey. Hard.

  He patted my back awkwardly. “It’s okay, miss.”

  I looked through the open doorway with something akin to hope. “So, what do I owe you?”

  “Oh, well.” Harvey shuffled his feet. “The chief said he’d take care of it.”

  I rummaged through my handbag, pulling out a bank envelope with the money from Mom. “While I appreciate the offer, I’m paying.” Thinking about the sheer number and variety of animals he rid the house of, I added, “You know, probably, assuming you didn’t gouge me on the fawn-extraction fees.”

  He opened his mouth, but seemed unsure of what to say. I nodded my head, encouraging him to keep going with the ruse. He cleared his throat. “Fawn removal can be tricky. I charge $620 for expert fawn removal.”

  Feeling the hit to my pocketbook, and a corresponding light-headedness, I opened the envelope and began counting. So much for grocery shopping. “Food is overrated, Harvey.” I tried to hand him his money. I did. I tried. He ended up having to pry it from my fingers.

  As he walked down the steps, he threw over his shoulder, “If you have any more problems, just let me know.”

  “What?” I glanced warily in the house. “I thought you said you dealt with my fawn infestation.”

  He turned, face stricken. “I just meant if any more fawns wander in, you could call me for help. I left the invoice on your dining table—oh, but it might be best if you didn’t look too closely at that. My phone number is at the bottom.” He started to walk back toward the house. “I can just fold up that invoice so you only see my name and number. How would that be?”

  I wanted to tell him not to worry about it, but what came out instead was, “That’d be great!”

  He jogged in and came back out a moment later. “All fixed. You have a nice evening, miss.”

  Waving, I called, “Thank you, kindly fawn wrangler.”

  He drove away and silence settled around us. Chaucer and I walked cautiously through the front door. I stilled, waiting for the telltale scratching, the almost subaudible squeaks. Nothing. I let out the breath I was holding. “It’s really ours now.”

  After feeding Chaucer, I decided I should mop the floors and wash down the walls again. I’d been at it for three sweaty hours when Chaucer ran downstairs, barking. I followed and found Mr. Cavanaugh at the front door. Quickly closing the door behind me so as to block his view of the empty living room, I stepped out onto the porch.

  “Good evening. How are you?” Chaucer wandered over to sniff at him.

  He clenched his hands, a look of disgust on his face. “I’m mad is how I am.”

  “Oh, I see.” I glanced around, confused. “Did I forget to do something with the garden? I’m—”

  “You threw out all of Nellie’s belongings!” Eyes sparking, face turning red, he looked like he wanted to punch me.

  “What? No. I’d never do that.” Chaucer stood in front of me, blocking the scary man from getting too close. My fingers shook as I sank them into his fur.

  “Then let’s just go in there and see. Open up that door!”

  He lunged for the door handle, but I stood my ground. Consequently, I got knocked sideways and bounced off the door frame. Chaucer’s deep growl caused Mr. Cavanaugh to reassess the situation.

  Rage turned to resentment. “I didn’t mean to push you.” His focus shifted to Chaucer, whose low growl hadn’t abated. Judging by the worried look on Mr. Cavanaugh’s face, Chaucer may have thrown in some bared teeth to bring his point home.

  I thought about all those sleepless nights in my car, afraid to enter the house, the scratching, the scurrying... I should have thrown open the door when he’d first arrived and shown him what happened when windows were left open for a couple of months, but I didn’t—couldn’t.

  “I know you didn’t mean to push me, Mr. Cavanaugh. I also know you’re a good man who wouldn’t willingly hurt a woman. Gran wouldn’t have loved you if you had that in you.”

  All his anger drained away. He stood slumped and sad before me. Somehow, that was worse than his anger.

  I screwed up my courage, pulling Chaucer closer to me, and lied. “It was ugly.”

  He looked up, confused. “What?”

  “The furniture and stuff. This is my home now. I don’t want it to look like an old lady’s house. I mean, come on.”

  Shame ignited back into rage.

  “Fresh start for me.” I shrugged. “If you wanted her old stuff, you should have taken it.”

  “She left it for you! So you’d have a warm, safe, comfortable place to live, not that you deserve anything like that!” Righteous anger looked better on him than grief. “What kind of a heartless, self-centered woman are you?”

  Was that a trick question? “The heartless and self-centered type?”

  He took a step forward, ignoring Chaucer’s louder growl. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make jokes. You break your grandmother’s heart and you joke. You leave your husband and make jokes.” He turned, gesturing to the battered BMW. “You destroy an expensive car and joke about it. Let your grandmother die without you. Don’t go to the funeral and laugh it up. Now here you are, throwing out belongings she collected and cared for most of her life as though they were—she was—garbage. And you joke.” Revulsion lined his face.

  “Aiden was right about you, Katie. You’re nothing but a cruel, shallow bit of nothing. When your husband comes to sell this house out from under you, I’ll do a jig.” He stormed off, while I stood frozen.

  Buffeted by his words, back pressed against the front door, my knees gave out. I slid down, landing in an ungainly heap. A cruel, shallow bit of nothing. My chest ached and my mind roared.

  Standing quickly, I dislodged Chaucer, who was trying to sit on my lap. I ran into the h
ouse and down the hall, just making it to the toilet before throwing up. Afterward, I lay curled up on the cold, freshly washed tiles and sobbed, missing my Gran and praying she didn’t hate me, too.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Aiden

  A KNOCK SOUNDED on my open office door. Mark, a local contractor who does appraising as a side job, stood in the doorway. Damn. Her husband worked quickly.

  “Hey, Chief. I got a call to do an appraisal on Nellie’s place. The owner thought you might have a key if his wife wasn’t there.”

  I tapped my pencil, pretending I didn’t have a key to Nellie’s place on the ring on my belt. “Nope. But Nellie’s granddaughter drove home a few hours ago, so she should be there to let you in.”

  “Oh,” He straightened and turned. “Good enough.”

  “So, he’s really planning to sell the house out from under her?”

  Mark stepped back. “Don’t know. I was just called about a job.” He shrugged. “Guy made it sound like it was a done deal. Are you saying the wife doesn’t know?”

  Shaking my head slowly, I sighed. “I don’t think she does.”

  “Well, shit.” Mark stared at the floor a moment. “I already took the job.” He turned and left, grumbling.

  I picked up the phone, to give Katie a heads-up, but then set the receiver back in the cradle. This was what I wanted. She needed to sell and move somewhere else. Pain radiated from my chest. A dick move? Sure. But I needed her far away from me. I didn’t want to worry about her or feed her or check on her to make sure she was sleeping. I didn’t want to fucking care. Not again.

  My cell rang. Pops. “Hey—”

  “I should have noticed. Should have seen what was going on.”

  Thumbing through the report on my desk, I paused. “What are we talking about, Pops?”

  “Nellie’s house, her things.”

  Crap. I’d told him to stay out of it.

  “I went over there. Confronted her.” Anger and grief poured through the phone line.

  “Pops, I thought we agreed that you’d stop going over there.” Damn, stubborn man.

  “I wanted her to explain. I didn’t mean to push her, though.”

  “Listen, Pops, anyone could have made the mistake—wait. Did you say you hit her?”

  “Pushed, not hit. I was trying to—”

  “Jesus. Pops! You’re almost a foot taller and about eighty pounds heavier. What the hell?”

  “It was an accident! I was trying to open the front door, but she wouldn’t budge. I just kind of knocked her off balance, into the doorjamb. Damn it! That’s not the point. She told me herself that she’d thrown away Nellie’s things because they were old and ugly.”

  The pain in my chest intensified. “Let me see if I have this straight. You went to her house, yelled at her, tried to force your way in and shoved her when she didn’t move. And after all that, she told you that she’d thrown away Nellie’s things because they were ugly?” She’d kept her promise. Pops assaulted her, and still she kept her word to protect him from the truth.

  “Exactly! She said she thought Nellie’s things were ugly so she threw them away. Just like that! Seventy-five years of living, of being a good, kind woman, and it’s all tossed because that spoiled brat didn’t like the looks of it!”

  Shit.

  “You were right about her, and I told her so. She’s nothing but a cruel, shallow bit of nothing! I don’t even mind Nellie’s house being sold as long as it doesn’t go to her.”

  I couldn’t rule out a heart attack at this point. I flexed my left arm, breathing deeply. “You told her I said she was shallow and nothing?”

  “Damn right I did! You were on the money with that one. I told her I’d do a little jig when her husband sold the house out from under her. And I will, too.”

  Heather walked in. “Chief, you have a call on line one.”

  I nodded and Heather left. “I’ve got a call, Pops. Do us both a favor and leave Katie alone. By rights, I should arrest you for assault and battery—”

  “It was an accident.”

  “Accident or not, Pops, you shoved a woman who might be a hundred pounds soaking wet. You yelled at her and tried to force your way into her house. Stop acting like you’re the victim here. It’s just furniture!”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I want you to think long and hard about what Nellie would say if she could have seen your little stunt today.”

  After I hung up on Pops and dealt with a call about a stolen car, I sat, staring out the window. After everything Katie had already dealt with today, an appraiser would be pulling up any minute to let her know she’d be losing her house, as well. I didn’t know how to fix this. Or even if I wanted to.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kate

  CHAUCER BARKED, RUNNING to the front door, as a knock echoed in the cavernous house. Sure. Why not? I got up from the bathroom floor and studied my red puffy eyes, my blotchy cheeks. Awesome. I splashed cold water on my face and walked to the entry as another knock sounded.

  “Chaucer, sit.” I waited until he complied before opening the door. A stocky, muscular man in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt stood on my porch, a clipboard in his hand.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Cady. My name is Mark Rutherford.” He smiled uneasily. “I’m a local contractor and part-time appraiser. Your husband hired me to determine the value of this house before you put it on the market.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing. Chaucer whimpered and leaned against me, licking my hand. My stomach dropped out. Or maybe it was my heart. Either way, a vital organ was flopping on the porch like a fish out of water.

  I blew out a breath and put up a finger. “Can you give me a moment to call my lawyer?”

  He nodded and stepped back. “Sure. I’ll just wait in my truck. Take your time.”

  I closed the door and walked to the kitchen. I had my lawyer’s number on a notepad by the phone. My fingers shook as I dialed.

  “Kate! It’s about time you checked in. Your cell was turned off, and you haven’t responded to my emails.”

  I gave her Gran’s phone number. “Sorry. There’s no Wi-Fi up here—”

  “In Maine?”

  I let out a breath. “No, I mean Gran’s house.”

  “Well, I’m glad you called. I’m working with your husband’s lawyer to try to hammer out a settlement. They’re hardballing, pretending he’s completely broke. Now I have to get auditors and investigators working on it. Unfortunately, that means I have no money for you right now. Are you surviving?”

  “Yeah. My mom loaned me some money. Listen, though. I’m calling because there’s an appraiser here. He says Justin’s putting the house on the market. Can he do that? Just sell the house?”

  Jean, my lawyer, cursed. “Yes. The rat bastard can, in fact, force a sale. I can stall it until we get his financials sorted, but unless you have the money to buy him out of his share, he can force the sale.”

  “Shit.”

  “Precisely. Let the nice appraiser do his job. We need to know how much it’s worth anyway, so I can negotiate it as part of the distribution of assets.” She paused. “You said the house was in bad shape, right? Dirty, animal infested?”

  Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. “It was. I just paid an exterminator to clean it out, and I’ve been rewashing the walls and floors all afternoon. So it may be empty of furniture, but it actually looks pretty good right now.”

  “Our timing could have been better on that one. Nothing we can do. Let him in, and we’ll see where we are. Just in case, though, try to make your peace with selling. We may not have a choice.”

  I hung up with Jean and made my way back to the front door. When I opened it, the appraiser stepped out of his truck.

&
nbsp; “Am I good to go?” he asked, pulling a pen from his pocket and attaching it to the clipboard.

  I nodded, sitting on the top step. “Yep. Go on in. I’ll wait for you out here.”

  Chaucer sat with me, both of us staring at the trees, whipping to and fro in the fierce wind coming off the ocean. I shivered, but I refused to go inside and get a sweatshirt while that man was walking through Gran’s house, determining what Justin could get for it. Justin, that sack of excrement who insulted and cheated on me for our whole marriage, was going to take this away from me, too.

  Scooting closer, Chaucer broke the full force of the wind and warmed my side. I dug my fingers into his fur and hugged him tight. Yes, I know dogs don’t particularly like being hugged, but I needed it. I may have even cried. Thankfully, dogs are good at keeping secrets.

  Chaucer made a soft woof, his head coming up. I took a moment to wipe my face clean before I sat up. Police cruiser. Right. I’m a shallow bit of nothing. Wouldn’t want to forget that.

  Aiden stepped out and walked slowly toward us, as though afraid I would explode at any moment. I wished. I’d love to splatter the asshole with gray matter and burst organs. Try washing that out, you bastard.

  “I hear you’re having a rough day.”

  He actually looked concerned. Must be something they teach in the police academy, how to approach cornered and possibly vicious animals. Me, not Chaucer. Chaucer was a sweetie, through and through. Whereas I was a homeless, shallow bit of nothing who had just learned the truth about herself. Very dangerous.

  “You’re shivering. Don’t you have a coat?”

  I sat up straighter, willing my teeth not to chatter. “Is there a problem, Officer?”