Drape Expectations

by Karen Rose Smith

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if she came in here and tasted every dish before you serve it.”

  “I did include biscuits and hush puppies. I would expect most guests would anticipate those being here.”

  Caprice stopped by the Crock-Pot and lifted the lid. “Now that smells spicy and heavenly.”

  “Sweet potato soup.”

  “All of these guests were screened by real estate agents. If nothing else, they’re going to be delighted with the food.”

  A few of the wait staff passed through the kitchen and Caprice had to smile. They were dressed in period costumes. The men wore red waistcoats over close-fitting trousers held up by suspenders. The bodices of the long dresses the female staff wore fastened in front with buttons running up to the high necks. The sleeves were full, widest at the elbow, but narrow on the forearm and wrist. Many of them were trimmed with ribbon. Most of the women servers wore their hair parted down the center and drawn back with small buns pinned on each side of their faces.

  The blue china on the table resembled early-1800s dinnerware, with country scenes and rose patterns. Pressed-glass goblets were reproductions of an 1850s pattern with tulips. Soon guests would be seated at the huge table enjoying Nikki’s concoctions.

  Leaving supervision of the kitchen and dining area to Nikki and her staff, Caprice got caught up in welcoming clients who entered the beautiful house for a tour. Mingling, she answered questions and pointed out particularly intriguing features. As she showed a couple through a sitting room made quaint by French doors opening onto the veranda, she was jolted by what she saw when she opened the doors.

  As far as she knew, Ace hadn’t arrived yet. His band hadn’t been included on the guest list. Nevertheless, one of the members of his band—Len Lowery—was seated outside. Len, with his long blond hair and surfer good looks, played keyboard for Ace—always with a flirtatious eye on the fans. From what she’d heard around town, he flirted with any woman within five miles. At this moment, he and Alanna were huddled on a white wicker settee at the far end of the veranda, speaking in low tones that Caprice couldn’t hear.

  Just what did Alanna and Len have to talk about?

  None of my business, Caprice reminded herself.

  The couple behind her took a brief look at the veranda and didn’t seem interested in going outside. So Len and Alanna’s little confab wasn’t disrupted. They were so engrossed in their discussion that they hadn’t heard the doors open.

  After a last look their way, Caprice asked the couple what else they would like to see and proceeded to direct them to the many bedrooms with their four-poster beds.

  Caprice continued to wonder about Len and whether or not he’d come through the front door. The two valets there had checklists. If anyone who did not appear on that list arrived, they weren’t admitted.

  Had he and Alanna made arrangements to meet on the back veranda?

  None of my business, Caprice reminded herself again.

  Around four o’clock, with two hours left to go, Caprice realized she still hadn’t spotted Mirabelle. She’d been in all the rooms, hadn’t she? Was the cat really hiding?

  Caprice returned to the kitchen once more. The only place she hadn’t explored was the short hall that led to the laundry room, a utility closet, and a back entrance. She stopped by the laundry room, with its high-tech silver appliances that didn’t fit in with the antebellum theme. The cupboards and shelves and pull-down ironing board made the space useful. She was about to turn back toward the kitchen, when she heard a faint meow.

  Then another meow.

  That was Mirabelle. She couldn’t be in the utility closet!

  But she was. The closet wasn’t as large as the laundry room and was cluttered with mops, brooms, buckets, laundry detergent, dishwashing detergent, a sweeper ... and a luxury pink cat-carrying case, with black embroidery, stuffed on a shelf. There was a litter box positioned near the mops. Poor Mirabelle sat on the tiled floor, pitifully looking up at Caprice.

  She meowed again.

  Caprice immediately stooped to pick up the cat, cuddling her in her arms. “Were you stuck in here all by yourself?”

  The cat meowed as if in answer, saying, Yes, I was.

  Caprice again took a look at the litter box and glanced around, hoping to see a pillow or blanket for Mirabelle to sit on, as well as food and water dishes. But there were none of those things. She kept petting the cat, who seemed to be sighing with relief as she laid her head against Caprice’s shoulder and gazed up at her with eyes more golden than Sophia’s.

  “I’m going to find you comfort, as well as food and water. We don’t want you to get stepped on or let out by mistake, but you need a few conveniences in here, too.”

  Mirabelle meowed again as if she wholeheartedly agreed.

  Since Mirabelle was compliant and seemed to want to stay in Caprice’s hold, Caprice carried her into the laundry room and opened a few cupboards. She found two fluffy green towels. Holding on to Mirabelle, she managed to lay the towels in a wash basket. Then she put Mirabelle in it and carried her to the closet.

  “Make it your nest. I’ll be right back with food and water.”

  Without bothering Nikki, Caprice found the cupboard that held soup bowls and dessert dishes. She plucked up one of each. She’d seen the pantry closet and now opened that. No cat food. But ... there were cans of tuna fish. She grabbed one of those. Mirabelle could just have a special dinner today. What cat didn’t like tuna fish?

  Nikki cut her a questioning look when she saw Caprice dishing out the tuna and then filling a bowl with water.

  Caprice merely said, “For Alanna’s cat. She’s made her a prisoner for the day.”

  Nikki’s understanding look said Caprice didn’t have to explain further. Animals were gentle beings who needed care, not isolation. Caprice couldn’t do much about the isolation for now, but she could make Mirabelle comfortable.

  She reentered the utility room and was placing the dishes near the wash basket when Denise Langford peeked in. “Nikki told me I could find you here. What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking care of Alanna’s cat because she isn’t.”

  “You could be helping to promote the property. Maybe Alanna doesn’t want her cat fed.”

  “I’ve been promoting the property for the past two hours.”

  Mirabelle had already climbed out of the wash basket and was gobbling down the tuna.

  “From the looks of Mirabelle, she needed food as well as water,” Caprice explained. “There wasn’t even a place in here for her to sit.”

  “She’s a cat,” Denise said again.

  That statement didn’t endear her to Caprice at all. Denise obviously wasn’t an animal lover.

  “Yes, she is, and a lonely one right now. As far as promoting the property, you’re the one who sells the houses. I just stage them. I’m going to stay in here a few minutes longer and make sure she’s okay. I’m sure you can get along without me.”

  “Just wait until I spread the word you’re becoming a diva.”

  A diva? Because I care about a cat? She shook her head. “Denise, you do what you have to. For the next fifteen minutes or so, you know where you can find me.”

  Denise gave a little sniff, took another look at the cat, then left the closet and closed the door.

  Caprice sat cross-legged on the floor while Mirabelle ate.

  “I know I need to keep good relationships with the real estate agents, but sometimes they expect me to do their job,” she explained to Mirabelle. “Sure, it benefits us both when the house sells. But I contract for my work with my clients, and I’ve already finished it here.”

  Mirabelle stopped eating and looked over at Caprice as if in total agreement. She blinked and then went back to the tuna.

  Caprice sighed.

  Maybe March was just a turbulent month for relationships. She thought about herself and Grant. Would he really come to Easter dinner at her parents’ house next Sunday as her guest?


  Next she considered Seth and his fellowship, his quick visit home on Valentine’s Day, and the bracelet on her arm. Could their relationship ever be more than a romantic dream?

  Then there was Ace and his sharp comments that his personal life was none of her business. That had hurt. When she established a friendship, those friends became like family. But maybe Ace, formerly Al Rizzo of Scranton, Pennsylvania, didn’t want any more family. He had one of his own, with two brothers and parents who thought he hung the moon. Maybe her friendship with him should just stay a surface one.

  Caprice checked her watch, a reproduction of one that Jacqueline Kennedy had worn. It was gold-toned with a rectangular case and a white mother-of-pearl dial. There were black Roman numerals at each hour, and it had an expansion band. Round, clear crystals lined the top and bottom of the bezel. Just like everything else about Jacqueline Kennedy, the watch was classically elegant and seemed to fit today’s open house. Yet, sitting on the floor of the utility closet while petting Mirabelle, Caprice knew she wasn’t being classically elegant. Time to get back into the fray.

  Scooping Mirabelle up in her arms, Caprice gave her a head rub and then set her into the wash basket once more.

  “Take a nap,” she said. “This will soon be over. I just hope Alanna remembers to let you out. I’ll text her and remind her if I have to.”

  Leaving the light on for Mirabelle—cats liked sleeping under lights—Caprice gave the Persian a little wave and opened the door.

  But when she stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her, Ace and Alanna were a foot away, entangled in a lip-lock!

  She had no illusions that Alanna had come this way to visit Mirabelle, or give her a bit of affection to help her through the long open house. Ace and Alanna’s clinch and her coming upon them was almost funny, really, because Alanna and Ace practically leaped apart as if they were teenagers caught making out when they shouldn’t have been.

  Ace sheepishly rubbed Alanna’s lipstick from his lips. Alanna, however, was wearing a dare-you-to-say-something kind of smile.

  Oh, she was going to say something, all right, but not about that kiss.

  “You know,” Caprice said conversationally, “you could have given Mirabelle one of the bedrooms and plenty of food and water, along with her litter box, rather than stuffing her in a closet.”

  At that, Alanna looked surprised, but then her eyes shot sparks. “That cat’s perfectly fine in there.”

  “Maybe you should try staying in a utility closet without food and water for four hours,” Caprice shot back, having had enough of this Southern beauty and her open house. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but she was feeling smothered by the velvet draperies, the antebellum clutter that Alanna was holding on to, and from Alanna’s attitude most of all.

  With a look for Ace that might as well have said, Why are you choosing to keep company with this woman? Caprice turned on her heel and left. The house would either sell or it wouldn’t. There would be interested parties or there wouldn’t be. This was only the beginning and there could be a lot more showings.

  Her job as home stager was done.

  Chapter Four

  Caprice hated to admit it, but she felt guilty. It all had to do with parochial school training and Catholic guilt. She was supposed to be a good girl. That sometimes translated into: Be nice. Don’t make waves. Always try to be a peacemaker.

  As she sat on the sofa in her living room staring at the copper silent butler on the coffee table, where she kept affirmations, she realized that she hadn’t been a peacemaker yesterday. Nope. She’d told Alanna exactly what she was thinking. She’d texted a reminder to her last night about letting Mirabelle out of the closet. She hadn’t received one in return. She might feel a little guilty, but she couldn’t say she was sorry, because she wasn’t. Mirabelle hadn’t deserved the thoughtless treatment. If Caprice was sorry about anything, it was about the way she’d left. In her professional life, she didn’t fly off the handle. She stayed in a situation and made it right.

  However, yesterday, thinking about Grant and Seth, the uncertainty of romantic relationships, the uncertainty of friendships, she’d been thrown a little off-balance.

  Centering. She had to center herself. She needed to put intentions for the week in her silent butler and then repeat them every day.

  With Sophia and Lady watching, she wrote down affirmations on slips of paper.

  I will be patient with Alanna Goodwin.

  I see my relationship with Ace growing healthy and strong.

  Whatever romantic relationship forms in my future will feel right in my heart.

  But after she was done writing the affirmations and tucking them in the antique, after she’d spent a short stretch in her office working, after she’d finished breakfast and had taken Lady outside to play fetch for a good long time, she’d known what she had to do.

  She had to apologize to Alanna for leaving the way she had. It was as simple as that.

  Lady had had a good time with Dulcina yesterday and quality time with Caprice and Sophia this morning. So she didn’t seem to mind when Caprice filled her Kong toy and her kibble ball, left both beside Lady’s bed in the kitchen, set up the pet gates, and told both dog and cat she’d see them later. After a visit to Alanna, she needed to stop at the rental company for her next house staging.

  Caprice thought about the unusual glass-walled house and Minimalist Illusion theme she’d chosen for it as she drove to Alanna’s.

  That was more pleasant than thinking about an apology. She simply wanted to get this visit over with.

  Almost there, she realized she should have called Alanna to set up this meeting. However, this visit had been an impulse, and if she didn’t talk with Alanna now, she wouldn’t. If Alanna wasn’t there ... Well, then, maybe a reconciliation just wasn’t supposed to happen. She was a big believer in signs and intuition and things working out just the way they were supposed to. Nana had taught her that.

  She usually had tea with Nana every few weeks. Caprice’s mother often reminded her that Nana was the only one she’d take advice from. That was an exaggeration, but she did listen to Nana and trusted her judgment on matters of home decorating, cooking, and romance. Nana was an expert on all three. Caprice always smiled just thinking of her grandmother, whose addition onto her parents’ childhood home had been a godsend for the family and for Nana. She didn’t require much looking after. At seventy-six, Nana was very independent. Still, Caprice’s parents liked the idea of looking in on her often. Now that Nana had adopted a kitten Caprice had found in her backyard last month, Nana smiled and laughed even more than she used to. It was a scientific fact that pets helped guarantee a longer life, and she hoped her Nana lived well past one hundred.

  When Caprice turned into the long driveway that led up to Alanna’s mansion, she noticed a sporty silver car parked there. Alanna drove a black Lincoln. This was a foreign model. If Alanna had company, this would indeed be a short visit.

  A warmer wind had blown through Kismet creating a springlike day. Caprice had worn lime green bell-bottoms and a tie-dyed blouse, with a handkerchief hem, in deference to the warmer temperature. Her macramé purse matched her kitten-heeled tan shoes. Even Bella shouldn’t complain about this outfit. It was quite respectable. Not as vintage as most of the outfits Caprice wore, but it still had a sixties vibe, just like the lava lamp in her living room and the collection of Beatles vinyl albums in her upstairs closet.

  Distraction. She was distracting herself again as she went up to the front door and rang the bell.

  She waited a couple of minutes, but there was no answer. Still, as she stood there, she thought she heard the low hum of voices. Was someone on the side in the screened-in porch?

  Caprice never meant to be stealthy about her approach. She intended to walk around the side to the back entrance. Yet, as she reached the screened-in veranda, she did hear voices, Alanna’s and a man’s. It wasn’t Ace. Caprice knew Ace’s voice. Not that a man’s
voice meant anything. Alanna probably had other men friends. Maybe it was a repairman of some type.

  Caprice was all ready to make a little noise to announce her entrance, but then something she heard stopped her cold. First of all, she suddenly recognized the male voice. It belonged to Len Lowery, Ace’s keyboard player. She’d forgotten all about seeing him with Alanna yesterday. What was he doing here again today?

  The hairs on the back of Caprice’s neck prickled. That was a sign that someone was up to no good. That was a sign that she should be careful. That was a sign that she should keep quiet and listen.

  Listen, she did.

  Alanna asked, “Are you sure this is going to work?”

  Len responded almost too easily, “Sure, it’s going to work. I got to Ace’s sister-in-law. A little flirting and she was eating out of my hand. It was that night he had the party when he debuted his single. She told me how nervous he is about his upcoming tour. He’s afraid he doesn’t still have ‘it.’”

  “So how are you going to make him realize he doesn’t have ‘it’ anymore?” Alanna seemed skeptical.

  “All I have to do is sabotage him on the first few venues. I got Zeke to quit, didn’t I? As soon as Ace is unsure of himself and his music, he’ll be happy to retire on his fortune in Kismet with you.”

  Caprice felt the lump in her throat sink straight to her stomach and land there like a bomb. She was horrified by the idea that Len and Alanna were sabotaging Ace. What was she going to do? She had to tell the rock legend what was going on.

  However, Ace’s words rang in her ears: “My personal life is none of your business.”

  What about his professional life? Should she stay out of it? Is that what a real friend would do? This was going to require thought and lots of it. She wouldn’t make another impulsive decision.

  As quietly as she could, she backed away from the veranda and scurried to her car in the driveway. She started the Camaro and drove away.

  Before she knew it, she was driving through Kismet’s business district. Its charm was definitely rooted into its early-1900s heritage. Many of the redbrick buildings displayed white trim around the windows and under the eaves. Several of the shops sported oval signs hung on wrought-iron brackets. The downtown area was a pleasant place to do business.