“Have you eaten?” Marietta opened her refrigerator. “I have some leftover sesame chicken from last night. And I didn’t make it. Barry did, so you know it will be edible.”
“No, I don’t have time.” I pushed out the chair next to me. “Mom, please sit.”
She fixed her gaze on the chair as if I had attached an electric current to it and then pulled up the cover of her appliance garage. “Sounds like this is a conversation that calls for coffee.”
And that sounded like a stall tactic. “Really, I don’t have time.”
Heaving a sigh, Marietta slammed the cover shut. “Iced tea, then. It’s already made.”
“Fine!” Whatever it took to get her undivided attention.
“Oh, I meant to tell you yesterday,” Marietta said seconds later when she placed two ice-filled tumblers on the table. “Guess who I’ve seen making the rounds on the morning shows.”
I didn’t need to guess. I’d seen him myself. “I know. Chris has been out there, pushing his cookbook.”
Settling her enviably tight tush in the seat next to me, she flicked a gold-bangled wrist as if she were shooing away a fly. “He’s a jerk of the first order, but I’d kill to have his publicist. The man is everywhere.”
“He certainly is.” My ex was also the last person I wanted to talk about today. “I—”
“How are you doing with his other news?”
Marietta rested her soft palm on my left hand and gazed into my eyes so tenderly I had to reach for my tea to cool the burn of threatening tears.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to bury my lie between sips, and then the icy sweet tea washed over my cracked filling and I about jumped out of my skin.
My mother sat at the edge of her seat, her face inches from mine as I pressed my hand to my jaw. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t wish to call my daughter a liar, but it looks to me like you have a sore tooth.”
I pushed the glass of tea away. “It will be okay in a second.”
With a smirk of skepticism tugging at the corner of her mouth, she cupped my chin to inspect every inch of my face. “I don’t think so.”
I felt like we were dancing at the edge of a giant rabbit hole, but I had no intention of jumping in with her. “Mom, really—”
“You’re blocked.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your chi, it’s blocked.”
I leaned back to get out of her reach. “My chi is fine and dandy, and has nothing to do with me biting down on a nutshell and cracking a filling.”
“Oh, my dear. Trust me.” She spread her tapered fingers in front of my face like a magician. “Your blockage is almost palpable.”
“Says you.” And no one else I knew.
“It’s feeding that negativity, so no wonder you’re in pain.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And now I understand why.”
For a woman who had only recently made an attempt to become a part of my life, Marietta hadn’t earned the right to pretend that she understood what made me tick. “Let’s not—”
“It’s Chris swirling around in there,” she said, pointing at my chest.
Okay, this ridiculous dance was over. “It’s not. I—”
“I should have seen it before. Why you hesitated to take the house.”
Because I didn’t want her as my landlord.
“Why the only relationship you seem to be willing to commit to is with a dog.”
“I don’t need you of all people judging my relationships.”
She winced for a nanosecond as if I had landed a physical blow and then gave me the prettiest of fake smiles. “Maybe not. But my darling, as someone who has experienced the benefit of purging negative male energy from her life, let me give you some motherly advice.”
Biting back the curse word at the tip of my tongue, I weighed my alternatives. Listen to Marietta’s half-baked advice or suffer my grandmother’s wrath because I bolted instead of having an honest conversation with my mother. “Fine. Just make it fast. I have to—”
“Get back to work.” Marietta patted my hand. “I know. Sweetheart, I also know how much it hurt when Chris walked out on you.”
Crossing my arms, I stared at the glass tabletop to distance myself from the compassion glinting in her eyes.
“You must realize that you open yourself up to his negative energy every time you get into his old car.”
Good grief. “Really, Mom. It’s just a car.”
“It’s not just a car. It’s his car, full of his touch, his smell.”
“I had it detailed. It doesn’t have the stench of his cologne anymore.”
“Maybe not, but you can’t clean out his energy. Why it probably radiates from the seat every time you get behind the wheel.”
Into my butt? That was a mental image that I needed to purge from my brain.
She flicked her wrist at me again. “No wonder it’s always breaking down.”
“Come on, it’s just an old, temperamental car.”
“Temperamental because he made it that way. Didn’t you tell me that it broke down before you even made it out of California?”
I should never tell her anything.
“And it’s in the shop again. It’s like he cursed it because he couldn’t stand losing it to you, and now you’ll never be free of his curse until you’re free of that car.”
Her droning on about curses sounded way too much like she was quoting a line from one of her old horror movies. “I’m sure the Jag isn’t cursed.” It just acted that way periodically.
“Maybe not literally, but I’m telling you, my darling. It’s time to free yourself from everything that’s keeping the chi from flowing. You’ll feel ever so much better.”
Right. “If we’re going to talk about me freeing myself of negative things, you’re going to have to help me.”
Marietta brightened. “Of course. Anything.”
“You need to respect my privacy.”
“But I do.”
“Not when you make decisions for me, you don’t.”
“But—”
“So, no more cars, no more housing upgrades,” I said, counting each item off with my finger. “No more exercise equipment, or furniture that you think I need. I say when I need something new—especially a car—not you.”
She sniffed, her long lashes shuttering her glistening eyes. “I was only trying to help.”
“Okay, we both know there’s a lot more to that story. But you killed it before it got into the paper, and I appreciate that.”
“I wasn’t trying to use you as a prop, as you put it.” Marietta swiped at a tear, creating a powdery makeup smear. “I just got a little carried away when Renee overheard that you needed a new car.”
“She probably saw an angle she could work to her advantage.”
“Probably. And when she mentioned that she could get me a good deal …” My mother snuck a glance at me. “Well, I do enjoy buying at a discount.”
“I’ve noticed. But it seems like you’ve been acquiring a lot of things lately. It’s not a competition, you know,” I said, trying to inject a little levity into what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation.
Her gaze sharpened. “I do believe that you should respect my privacy as well. Because how I choose to spend my money is my business.”
“Absolutely. We just don’t want you to …” How could I tell my mother that I wasn’t the only one who had concerns about how much of her savings she had blown through since she moved back to town? “You know, until your house in California sells, maybe—”
“My financial situation is just fine, thank you very much.”
I didn’t believe that for a minute, but I had no desire to call Marietta on her bluff and piss her off more than she already was. Not when I required her cooperation to move that new car parked in front of Gram’s.
“Great
.” Rising from the table, I grabbed my tote. “On that happy note, I’ve gotta go. But before I do, could I have the keys to the Subaru?”
My mother’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you just make it very clear that you don’t want the car?”
“If I’m going to return it, I need the keys and all the paperwork.”
With a little pout at her lips, Marietta disappeared into the office opposite the great room and met me in the entryway with a clear zippered envelope. “Barry put everything in here.”
“Thanks,” I said, reaching for the envelope but she held on tight.
“Before you do anything, promise me that you’ll think about freeing yourself of that man.”
And his cursed car. Yeah, yeah. “I will. Now, will you do something else for me?”
She cocked her head as if daring me to bring up the subject of money again. “What?”
“If Gary Carpp wants to meet with you again, will you make it after school so that Barry can join you?”
“I don’t understand. Why—”
“There’s something a little off about the guy.”
“Charmaine, really. I think you’re seeing things.”
“Just promise me that you won’t meet with him alone.”
Marietta heaved a pissy sigh. “Fine. I promise. But I assure you. He’s done nothing to demonstrate that he’s anything but a perfect gentleman.”
A shiver trailed down my spine as I imagined Naomi Easley thinking the exact same thing.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“YOU’RE A LIFESAVER,” Rox said, grabbing a spoon to dig into the butter pecan ice cream she had asked me to pick up for her after work.
“I’m here to serve.” I waited for Rox to waddle past me in her thick socks before putting the turkey sandwich I bought her into the refrigerator. “But promise me that you’ll eat at least half of this sandwich. The tryptophan might help you sleep.”
She scoffed. “If all this sugar doesn’t have any effect, you think a couple of slices of turkey will?”
“It’s worth a shot. And speaking of sleep, shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“My back is killing me, my heartburn is worse when I lie down, and I’m pretty sure that my hair is now in a permanent state of bed head. So, no, I don’t need to be in bed right now.”
Leaving the spoon in the ice cream container as if she’d staked her territory, Rox placed her hand over her belly and grimaced.
“What is it?” I asked. “More heartburn?”
“Cramp.” She blew out a breath. “There. Gone.”
“You’re having cramps, too?”
Rox turned that grimace on me as she grabbed her spoon. “Don’t even think about suggesting that it’s the ice cream. This junk is the only thing that’s getting me through the day. Well, that and the movie channel package that Eddie got me so that I wouldn’t go completely stir-crazy.”
“Gee, pregnancy sounds really fun. I had no idea of the joy I was missing out on.”
“You’ll probably be like my worst nightmare, Raina. All glowy in her supermodel perfection instead of puking for the first three months.”
“Yeah, I want to be like her,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness from seeping into my voice, but one glance at Rox told me that I had missed that mark by a mile.
She shook her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought her up. Being a preggo has made me stupid.”
I gave my best friend a hug. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d rather be like you.” In a heartbeat. “But maybe just puke for one month.”
“Oh, trust me.” Rox paused for an unladylike belch. “You’d rather be glowy.”
“Pretty sure I don’t get a vote when it comes right down to it.” I was also sure that what I might want was a moot point if Steve didn’t want the same thing.
* * *
Five minutes after I left Rox’s house, I pulled into the Bassett Motor Works lot and parked next to the Jaguar that Georgie had texted me was ready.
Climbing out of the SUV, I glared down at the fancy replacement rim gleaming under the setting sun and thought of how much Chris had once loved his Jag.
After all the money it had cost me over the last sixteen months, I felt no love toward the beast. But I also didn’t feel cursed, blocked, misaligned, or otherwise spiritually out of sorts because of its presence in my life.
The Jag had been doing a decent job of getting me where I needed to go.
Most of the time.
With minimal oil drips from a leak that Georgie swore had been fixed.
And it was comfortable to drive.
As long as I didn’t think about sitting on any of the bad vibes that Chris had left behind.
“Hiya, Char,” Georgie said, emerging from the garage with his dog Rufus trotting behind him. “She should be good to go.”
For the amount he expected me to pay before my car left the lot, she had better be purring like a kitten. “Great.”
Georgie turned toward the office thirty feet behind us. “Want to settle up so that you can give your granny back her car?”
“Let me ask you something first.”
“Shoot.”
“Having worked on the Jag a few times …” Way too many times. “What’s your opinion of it?”
“Honestly, she’s gettin’ a little long in the tooth, but she’s still a beauty.” He gave me a lopsided grin while his dog curled into a ball at his feet. “Just a feisty one.”
My favorite mechanic could have been describing my mother.
“If you were me, would you be thinking about selling it?”
Pulling a red shop rag from the pocket of his grease-stained overalls, he wiped his hands. “Chow Mein, I woulda done that after we fixed the oil leak, but you gotta realize. You’re not gonna get much for it.”
“What? You just finished saying it was still a beautiful car.”
“She’s got almost two hundred thousand miles on her. Nobody who doesn’t wanna spend time with her under the hood is gonna want her.”
Since my husband didn’t want to touch me toward the end, that sounded way too much like a cheap shot. “If I could find a buyer, what do you think I could get for it?”
Georgie thumbed in the direction of the office. “Wanna go inside and find out?”
Less than two minutes later, he scratched his scruffy red beard while frowning at the computer monitor on the counter. “You’re not gonna like this.”
I was really tired of hearing him say that to me. “Just give it to me straight.”
“Best I can find for the same model year is twenty-seven hundred.”
“That’s it?!”
“Oh, your car wouldn’t sell for near that much. Not with all your miles.”
Again, that sounded like a snide remark. “Yes, but it has those new tires and the brake job you just did. That has to count for something.”
Georgie stared at the monitor. “It counts toward makin’ it a safer car,” he muttered while Rufus picked up and whined at the door as if he wanted to escape the tension rising in the office.
“Are you serious?”
He shrugged as if I were asking him a trick question.
“So it’s either keep on sinking money into this car or practically give it away.”
“Well, I guess you could put it that way.”
Swell. “What would you do?”
“If I were you?”
I nodded.
He leaned his elbows on the scarred wooden counter separating us and grinned. “I’d leave her here with my mechanic to sell on consignment.”
“Meaning what, exactly.”
“I sell her for the best price I can get and keep five percent.”
Since I was facing a repair bill in excess of what I’d get out of that deal, I had another idea to float out to my prospective salesman.
I penciled it out on a page in my notebook. “Your five percent would probably be close to one
hundred bucks. What if I paid you your commission now and signed the Jag over to you, and whatever you sell it for, you keep.”
Georgie stroked his chin. “You wouldn’t be trying to get out of payin’ your bill now, would ya?”
Absolutely. “Sell it for a good price and you’d come out ahead.”
“Don’t think Dad would go for it.”
His dad was the big dog at Bassett Motors that Junior, affectionately known as Little Dog, worked for. “Want to run it by him?”
Georgie disappeared for two minutes, and then returned, followed by Rufus. “Three hundred to make sure that we turn a profit on this deal.”
He stood behind the counter like the football player he used to be, poised to block me as soon as I made a move.
That told me that he expected me to make a counteroffer. “Two hundred.”
“Two-twenty-five.”
I extended my hand. “Deal.”
* * *
“Are you sure you don’t want something more substantial?” Gram asked fifteen minutes later, while I stood in her kitchen and ate a biscuit left over from last night.
“Nope, I’m on a diet.” Lately, a fat-laden carbohydrate diet much like Rox’s, which I needed to knock off before my belly got as round as hers.
Gram pursed her lips while she filled her teakettle. “Some diet.”
“I know. Fozzie and I will have to go on a long walk tonight.”
“Speaking of Fozzie, I assume that you—”
“Cleaned the interior of your car?” I licked my fingers clean and saluted her. “Yes, ma’am, and thanks again for letting me borrow it.”
She looked at me over the rim of her trifocals. “I also assume that all’s well between you and your mother now.”
It was as good as it was going to get. “Yep.”
“And there’s a plan for doing something with that car outside?”
“I wouldn’t call it a plan, but I’ll be driving it over to my house tonight.”
“And then after that?”
Leaning against her checkerboard counter of blue and white tiles, I stared down at my espadrilles. “I haven’t gotten that far.”
“It seems like a very nice car. Probably a heckuva lot more reliable than the one that Chris stuck you with.”
Crazy, Stupid, Dead Page 16