Surrendered

by Jennifer Sienes

  Uh oh. Now I’ve insulted him. “Of course not. But if I’m going to hire someone to investigate Jake, doesn’t it make sense to use the same person?”

  “Why, yes, your intentions make perfect sense. You think you can waltz into the investigator’s office and procure a copy of the report she ran for your father. That would hardly be ethical.”

  She? The investigator is a woman? That should simplify things. How many female investigators could there be in the area? Then again, Dad may have hired someone here in Placerville, but it’s more likely he took his business to Sacramento. That’s a big city to cover.

  Byron’s throat-clearing breaks into my thoughts. “May I be so bold as to suggest something to you?”

  Do I have a choice? “Certainly.”

  “I knew your father for a good many years. I wrote up his first will and testament when he and your mother married and have handled all of his legal affairs since then. It would behoove you to trust his judgment in this matter. I doubt very much that he would have done anything to put you or Katherine in harm’s way. He had his reasons for asking Mr. Holland to watch over you.”

  “Mr. Reynolds.” I hook my purse over one shoulder, place my hands on the desk, and push off the chair. “I, too, have a modicum of intelligence. I’m well past the age of needing someone to watch over me, especially a man who appeared out of the blue with no apparent connections. My father may have trusted Mr. Holland, but he gave me no indication of why that is. I have a young, impressionable sister, for whom I’m now responsible, Jake or no Jake.”

  Keeping my head held high, I march out of Byron Reynolds’ office with all the poise of the Queen of England. The feeling will be short-lived, as I’ll soon have to ask Jake for tuition money. And no matter how much dignity I muster in the process, it’ll still feel like groveling for crumbs Oliver Twist-style.

  Chapter 9

  Tess

  Reaching into my closet, I clamp my arms around a section of clothing, extricate the hangers from the rod, and dump them on top of the growing heap on my bed. What a mess. Who knew I had so much stuff stashed in this one, average-sized bedroom? After thirty-some odd years in the same place, what did I expect? The floor is cluttered with shoes, old college books, and boxes placed there to help me organize, which have instead proven to be one more tripping hazard.

  Movement in the backyard catches my attention through the window. Jake. Another benefit of moving out of here. I will no longer have a clear view of his nefariously acquired abode—or him, slinking back and forth. The once peaceful backyard view is ruined. Instead of focusing on the columbine, gardenias, and Mom’s raised vegetable beds, all I see is that…interloper. Not even the Bible scriptures I learned as a child are enough to distract me from the unfairness of it all.

  Pulling my gaze from the guest house, I start to separate out the pile. What to keep, what to donate, what to toss. The thwap, thwap, thwap of flip-flops in the kitchen above me interrupts my thoughts. Katie’s home. Good. It’s time to talk.

  “Katie?” I yell out, eyes on the ceiling as if I can actually see her. “Can you come down here a sec?”

  The rhythmic thwap down the steps ushers her to the threshold of my bedroom. “What are you doing?” Her sharp tone, wide eyes, and flushed cheeks seem out of context.

  Do I have something of hers? I make a quick assessment of the room, but nothing stands out. “You okay?”

  “You’re moving, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You’re going to leave me here, just like that?” She throws her arms up and steps across the threshold. “Your stupid pride is more important to you than me?” The girl’s got fire in her eyes to match her cheeks.

  Where’s this coming from? “What…” Oh. She thinks I’m moving out. “No, Katie, you’ve got it all wrong.” I drop the clothes draped over one arm and step around the bed. “I’m just moving upstairs. To Dad’s room.”

  Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, and she takes a deep breath. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  “Aw, Kitkat.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders for a quick hug. “You do care.”

  She pulls away, slapping at my arm. “Very funny. What d’you want me for?”

  I cross back to the closet for another armful. “I thought you might want to move down here. This room is bigger than yours, and it’s more private. Plus, you’d have your own bathroom.”

  Hands on hips, she does a slow spin. “Yeah. It could be perfect.”

  “What do you mean, ‘could be’? It’s perfect the way it is.”

  She throws me a disbelieving look. “As if. You don’t even have any posters up.”

  Running my hand down the knotty pine wall, I cringe. “No nails. If you have to put stuff up, use something that doesn’t damage the walls.”

  “Hey, wait a minute.”

  “No arguments, Katie. I’m serious. Dad went to a lot of trouble to—”

  “Not that, Tess. I promise, no nails. But if you’re moving upstairs to Dad’s room, that means you’re staying.”

  Sifting through the clothes, I don’t look up. “You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes.”

  “And the only way you can stay is if you go back to school.”

  “Good use of deductive reason—”She slams into me, wrapping me in her gangly arms. “Hey, thought you weren’t into hugs.”

  “I knew you’d come through, Tess. I just knew it.” She squeezes me once more before letting me breathe again.

  “Yeah?” Even with the thought of going to Jake for money roiling around in my gut, I can’t hold back a grin. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her so excited about something. “It’s just school, kiddo, not the winning lottery ticket.”

  “It’s good enough for me.” She plops on the bed amid the mess of clothes and hangers. “We could study together.”

  “Don’t count on it.” Pushing aside a pile, I sit next to her. “It’s going to mean some changes around here. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to work at the restaurant.”

  “That’s okay, we’ll cover it.”

  I shake my head. “You can’t work more hours, Katie. Your school work—”

  “Yeah, I know. No more than twenty hours. But I’m out for the summer in less than two weeks. And Jake can cover the front, just like Dad used to do.”

  Great. Jake at the helm. Again. “We’ll figure it out. But you’re going to have to be responsible around here. Jake may be living here, but he’s definitely not in charge. We’ll need to set up some kind of system to stay in touch.”

  “Jeez, Tess. You’re getting a little worked up, aren’t you? Classes don’t start until, what, September?”

  I wish. “I’m three units shy of an English major, so I’ll be taking the summer session.” If I can get past the dread in my gut, that is. “I called the counselor this morning and she has it all set up.”

  “English? I thought you said you majored in psychology?”

  I nod. “And I’ve accumulated almost enough online courses for an English degree, too. If I take this class, I can earn a single subject credential instead of a multiple subject.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “My sanity.” I laugh at the confusion that crosses her face. “I can teach high school instead of elementary school.”

  “Wow, Tess. I mean…wow. So, when do you start school?”

  “Next week.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. So, we need to work out a strategy. With the commute and the time studying, I won’t be as available as I’ve been in the past. And it’ll only get crazier when I start the credential program.”

  “No problem. It’s not like I’m in grade school, you know. And Jake is here for me. That’s why Dad set it up, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t care what Dad set up. It’s hard enough to go through with his cockamamy scheme without the added stress of Your Highness butting in. I don’t want Jake in charge. Do you hear me?”

&n
bsp; “Loud and clear.” A deep voice has us both whipping our heads around. Standing in the doorway, Jake’s loaded down with what appears to be laundry in his arms—and murder in his eyes.

  * * *

  Jake

  Nothing good ever comes from eavesdropping. Doesn’t matter that I already know how Tess feels. Still burns. I’m not to be in charge? Like I asked for this? Like I want to stay in this insane asylum, taking her abuse? The Tess I thought I knew before Sean died and this mistrusting, angry woman are no relation. Aloof, I can handle. But this is too much. The volcanic mess of a room fades into my peripheral vision. Katie, head down, mumbles something. Can’t tell what. I should just step back, but my feet aren’t connected to my brain. Then again, maybe it’s my brain that’s not connected.

  “What’re you doing here?” Tess pops up, clothes dropping to the ground, and turns to face me. Little comfort that her cheeks are flushed—from anger or embarrassment is anyone’s guess.

  Unlocking my jaw, I motion to the dirty clothes in my arms. “Laundry.”

  “Here?”

  “No. Thought I’d walk it through your house before heading to the laundromat.” The sarcasm in my tone doesn’t sit well with me, but it seems Tess doesn’t understand anything else.

  “What makes you think you can just waltz in here and use our washer?”

  Stifling a growl, I tighten my hold on the load and turn. No point in answering. She’ll just take it as a challenge. Instead, I take controlled steps across the room to the washer tucked against the opposite wall and drop the clothes on the floor. Window’s open, and the scent of some summer flower—gardenias, maybe—competes with the artificial soap smell. How much more must I put up with before I’ve atoned for my past?

  “No one said you could use our appliances.” Tess moves to her doorway. Her shrill voice has me gritting my teeth again, but I refuse to fall prey to her bait.

  “I did,” Katie says, her voice at my back. She reaches past me and fiddles with the washing machine dials. “There’s fabric softener in the cabinet, if you want it.” Her tone is conciliatory, as is the look she gives me. Apologizing for her sister’s immaturity?

  I unclench my teeth. “Thanks.”

  “He has no right in here, Katie.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, I turn to face Tess. “When are you going to give it up?”

  “Give it up?” Eyebrows arching, she puts a hand to her chest with feigned confusion. “Are you referring to my home? My restaurant? My sister?”

  I turn back to the washer and pop open the front-loading door before snatching up handfuls of clothing and shoving them inside. How could Sean have thought, even for the time it took to sign his will, that this would work?

  “Come on, Tess.” Katie’s tone is laced with resignation. “Can’t we just let it go. Now that you’re going to—”

  “No!”

  At her panicked shout, I spin to face her again. What’s she hiding? “Now that you’re going to what?”

  She crosses her arms, eyes flitting around as if seeking somewhere to land. “Doesn’t matter.” Her tone softens as she turns away. Back to her cave, no doubt. “The least you can do is buy your own soap and stuff.”

  Katie rolls her eyes at Tess’s retreating back. “This is ridiculous, Tess.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Katie pivots back to me. “Tess is going back to school. She starts next—”

  “Ka-tie!” Tess wails as if her sister just revealed some embarrassing secret.

  Relief has me barking out an involuntary laugh. Just when I was ready to give up, too. Maybe Kent’s right.

  “What’re you laughing at?” Tess, back on the war path, turns on Katie. “Have you no sense of privacy?”

  “Oh please,” Katie says with a sigh. She must be immune to Tess’s mercurial moods. “Like he’s not going to find out. Don’t you think he’ll be suspicious when you stop showing up for work next week?”

  The string of conversation I walked in on gels. “So, is that why you’ve fought the idea of school so hard? Don’t want me to be in charge of anything? Afraid your position will be usurped?”

  “You’ve been responsible for plenty.”

  “No, actually, I haven’t. Feels more like I’ve become your personal whipping boy. You seem to think I want this. What man in his right mind would put up with your constant…ranting?”

  Tess’s mouth drops open, then snaps shut. “Ranting? Don’t you think I have a right to rant?”

  Katie steps between us, hands out as if to put a stop to the argument. “Look guys, this is getting old. Why don’t we—”

  Where does Tess get off? “A right? You think you have a right to be snide and dismissive? I’m sorry Sean’s gone—more than you know. I would give anything to have him back here dealing with you himself. But it certainly doesn’t give you the right to act as if you’re the only one he put in a difficult position.”

  “What difficult position is that?” She throws her hands up, hair flying. “You walk in off the street a year ago, and now you have control of his whole life. It’s bad enough that you’ve stepped into his place at the restaurant with absolutely no experience. But to put you in a position to raise Katie? What could she possibly learn from you?”

  “Like you’re so much better at it? What’s she learning from you but sarcasm and discontent? Or maybe you want your little sister to be shackled to a life of drudgery, just like you.”

  “Drudgery? That so-called drudgery was my parents’ life. How dare you treat it with so little respect. You’ll run it to the ground in six months with that attitude.”

  “I’m not talking about the restaurant. The drudgery you’re living in has to do with your attitude. And you take everyone down with you.”

  “So, leave. No one’s forcing you to stay.”

  “Sean is.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, he’s dead.”

  “That’s enough!” Katie’s scream bounces off the walls. Chest heaving, face flushed, she chastises me with a look far beyond her years, then turns to Tess. “I don’t know what Dad was thinking, but I certainly don’t need you raising me.” She glances back at me. “Either of you. I may be only sixteen, but it’s pretty clear to me that of the three of us, I’m the most mature. Sheesh.”

  The only sound in the room is the slap, slap, slap of Katie’s flip-flops as she marches upstairs. Once she disappears, I have nowhere to focus my gaze. Do I ignore Tess, standing frozen across the room, and pretend the last few minutes never happened?

  I clear my throat in preparation to speak, but that debilitating brain disconnect is back.

  “She’s right.” In the shameful post-argument silence, Tess’s soft acquiescence is as loud as Katie’s scream. “If…” She waves a hand toward the washer. “If you need the washer, or whatever…it’s fine…I mean…” She drops her eyes and turns away.

  “Wait, Tess.” She hesitates, her back still to me, and I scramble to find the right words. Anything to ease the awkwardness that will grow like a cancer unless we can eradicate it. “I’m here to help. Whatever you need.”

  She stands, head bowed, shoulders slumped, hand clutching the door jamb. Defeated? “Let’s just try and stay out of each other’s way.”

  I nod, even though she can’t see me. “That’s…fine.”

  Stepping through the door, she kicks it closed.

  Left alone with my dirty laundry and guilty conscience.

  Chapter 10

  Tess

  In a perfect world, which I know as well as anyone doesn’t exist, I’d have something to hold over Jake’s head before I had to grovel for money. But looking for a specific female investigator proved to be more difficult than I imagined. The phone and Internet listings have tons of investigative firms. Who knows how many women work for each one? It’s not like I can call up and ask to speak to every woman employed by an agency and then ask if they ran an investigation on Jake. Summer session starts in two short days, and I
have to pay the tuition.

  It would be easier to confront Jake on my own turf, but he’s made himself scarce. I catch glimpses of him crossing the back lawn to the guest house, but he hasn’t come inside. Could be my attack of him and his laundry has made him rethink boundaries. Why he would suddenly become sensitive is beyond me. The last place I want to discuss this is at the restaurant, where the word privacy is a foreign language. So, I’m left with little choice but to cross into enemy territory.

  Or manipulate the enemy into mine.

  I bypass my morning run, grab a cup of coffee, and sit at the kitchen nook table where I have a clear view of Jake’s place. He leaves at ten minutes to six, dressed in running clothes. By my calculations, he should be home within an hour. Coffee in hand, I go to Dad’s room—my room now—and gather my outfit for the day before jumping into the shower. Forty-five minutes later, I’m positioned in the backyard, garden hose in hand.

  I’m on my third round of watering the potted plants bordering the patio before Jake finally shows up. Either he’s getting slower or running more than the five miles Katie claimed he runs every day. I can tell the moment he spots me—his feet brake and his shoulders stiffen for an instant.

  I swallow the sarcasm that’s become second nature lately and force a smile. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” he mumbles, making a bee-line for the guest house.

  “Good run?” Bent over a terracotta planter overflowing with red geraniums, I continue to water, only half watching him. Don’t want to scare him off. If he heads inside, I have no choice but to follow.

  “Yeah.” He takes another step then stops. “What about you?”

  Shifting the hose to the next, already over-watered plant, I shrug. “Thought I’d get some things done around here this morning. A couple more days and life will get a little crazy.”