by L. C. Evans
“Yes, I have heard of them. Jack Maxwell’s running it for the new owners.”
“You know Jack? Wait,” she shrieked. “Your best friend from high school you’ve told me about a million times. He’s your Jack.”
Hardly my Jack. I wrapped a piece of phone cord around my finger and watched my unpolished nail bed turn purple.
“Of course I haven’t met him yet. My office manager hired the firm and I signed the papers. I’m seeing him this afternoon, though. We’ve scheduled a meeting to talk more about the project. I’ll tell him you said hello.”
“That would be great,” I said without enthusiasm. I was sure Jack was still ticked at me for putting my family first.
“Anything else before I ring off?”
“One other thing. I’m all set for the ghost tour business, in fact I’m getting pretty enthusiastic.” Had to. As far as a job it was the only game in town. “But I’ll have to pass on living and working at the B&B. My entire family is now living with me, pets included.”
High-pitched yelp on the other end of the line. “Susan, I don’t know what to say. But that’s okay, I won’t have any trouble finding someone, not with the current job market. Whoops, got to go. I have another call and it’s important. Call me in the morning for a status update, okay?”
The line went dead. I wondered what Jack would say when Veronica told him I’d said hello. I imagined him baring his teeth and hissing like he was warding off something evil.
Brenda and Odell took a long lunch. At least two hours. In between fielding calls from customers and manning the register so Patty could take a break, I didn’t even finish the first page of Veronica’s list of advertisers before I heard Brenda approaching. With a guilty start, I realized that even though she’d made it clear she didn’t want me touching the work, she would still object to me working on personal business. The Brendas of this world are like that.
I slipped out of her chair to flatten myself against the wall opposite the desk with my hands held at my sides and my eyes wide and staring like a criminal caught in the act. But then Brenda probably got that a lot.
She hovered in the doorway. “Uncle Odell wants to see you in his office, Susan.”
“Great,” I said. “Super.” I pulled the lower half of my face into a smile that showed most of my teeth.
The hound eyes, so like her uncle’s, looked ever so slightly less droopy. “I’m sorry. It’s not good news.”
No doubt. Unless I considered getting sent home two days early to be good news. I perked up. I really did need the time for Veronica’s project. Mine and Veronica’s project, I corrected myself. After all, I was her manager for Blackthorn House Ghost Tours. Brenda stepped aside and I slipped into the hallway.
“Odell.” I stood at his door. “You sent for me?”
He motioned for me to come in and I took a few steps toward his desk. He wrote something on an envelope before he glanced up and said, “Brenda tells me she’s already mastered the office system.”
“She’s a sharp lady. And well-educated. I believe she mentioned she took a secretarial course.”
“I know I said you could stay until Wednesday, but Brenda tells me you make her nervous sitting around and—and thinking, that’s what she said. You’re thinking. Makes it hard for her to get her work done.” He went through a series of frowns and throat clearings.
“You’re saying you want me to leave now instead of working out my week.” Wow, I felt almost as psychic as Patty claimed to be.
“That’s what I’m saying. No hard feelings, Ms. Caraway. Family is family.”
I was the last person to disagree with that statement. “I understand. Completely. Uh, it’s been nice working for you, Odell.” Now that I was officially dismissed, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I went back and grabbed my sweater and my purse, waved to Brenda, who was on the phone, and scooted behind the counter to give Patty a quick good-bye hug.
“It’s not good-bye, it’s see you later. ‘Cause we are still close friends and I do expect you to call. We can still meet for lunch.” Patty wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. “Find out where your mother’s former lover is staying, and I’ll ride shotgun when you go after him. I mean it, hon.”
I winced. Mama would die if she ever heard anyone refer to Philip as her former lover. As for going after him, that wasn’t part of my plan. I figured a simple call to an attorney should get him out of the picture for good.
“I’ll call you. That’s a promise.” For lunch. Not for Philip Beauchamp hunting.
I consulted my watch. Still a few good hours left to go antique hunting in Charleston. First I called home to check on Mama and DeLorean. They’d been suspiciously silent all day, and I needed five minutes to verify that they hadn’t become embroiled in another crisis or destroyed the house.
DeLorean took the call. A deep sigh of self-pity whooshed over the line and I braced myself.
“You have no idea what it’s like being stuck in this house all day,” she whined, without even asking how I was doing. For all she knew, I could have been in the clutches of pawnshop robbers or suffering from a fatal case of food poisoning. I allowed myself a moment of annoyance, but I knew a slight from DeLorean was not what really bothered me.
I took a deep breath and said, “I know it’s tough, but I’ll take over and let you get some rest as soon as I get home. I do love you, little sister, and I know it isn’t easy to Mama-sit.” After Philip had shown up yesterday, we’d both decided we couldn’t leave Mama alone again in case he returned.
“You’re a doll.” Her voice held a smile.
“Yeah, I am, and you make sure you remember that.”
Next I rang Jack’s number. I’d decided I needed to apologize for cutting our evening short, though I still didn’t think I’d been wrong to go home to handle a family emergency. Busy. I tried twice more and then got his office. Jack was in a meeting. Right. Veronica’s meeting. I wouldn’t have thought it would have lasted this long. I left a message for him to call back. Almost as an afterthought, I called Veronica’s number and left a message that I was now available full time if she needed me. I headed out for Charleston’s antique stores wishing I knew what the future held. No I didn’t. I couldn’t stand it if I knew for sure that the future was as bleak as I imagined it.
Veronica hadn’t told me what she was willing to pay for the furnishings, and I was so caught up with my problems, I hadn’t thought to ask. All I could do was find what she wanted and put holds on the items. It took me the rest of the afternoon, but I managed to locate a couch and an entire bedroom suite.
By the time I finished shopping, Jack hadn’t returned my call. He was obviously a lot more ticked off than I’d figured. So, who needed him? A week ago, I’d practically forgotten Jack ever existed and all I had to do was forget him again.
Monday was yoga night, but with Mama and DeLorean at the house, I decided I’d skip it. Okay, I was being a poor yoga student and probably some day I’d regret my failure to limber up. But right now I didn’t feel more than a twinge of yoga-skipping guilt. I climbed into the van and stuck the key in the ignition. The opening bars to When the Saints Come Marching In sounded from my cell phone, and I snatched it out of its holster and said hello without even checking the caller ID.
“Got your message. Thrilled you can start right away. Come to Blackthorn House tomorrow morning—eight o’clock.” As usual, Veronica sounded like someone who was juggling ten bowling pins and doing the Highland fling while she spoke on the phone.
“But I need to find the antiques,” I protested, trying not to sound too disappointed that Veronica wasn’t Jack returning my call. I’d planned on heading out about nine thirty or so and getting to Charleston after the stores opened.
“Scrap that. I’ve hired a decorator and she’ll do the buying.”
I held back a sigh of exasperation. “I’ve already picked out some stuff that was exactly what you wanted and put it on hold.” I wouldn’t be able to wor
k for her if she kept changing her plans. I made a mental note to discuss this issue with her.
“You did? Okay, call my receptionist and have her give you the number for the decorator. Tell her—the decorator—what you found and I’m sure she’ll go ahead and pick it up. See you in the morning.”
“Wait, doesn’t this decorator have a name?”
She’d already rung off without hearing my last question, but I didn’t take offense. Veronica actually seems to rev into a special gear to manage her various businesses. I hoped she didn’t expect the same level of energy out of me. It was all I could do to manage my home life—mainly my family and their problems—and still get to work every day. I went ahead and called Veronica’s office and then the decorator.
I pretended it didn’t matter if Jack stayed mad at me forever. I started the van and joined the early rush hour heading out of Charleston toward the high span of the new Arthur Ravenel Bridge over the Cooper River. Toward my right a huge ship, a freighter of some kind, was heading east to some unknown port. I wondered what it would be like to run away to sea and not tell Mama or my sister.
Chapter Sixteen
Eight was way too early to be meeting Veronica downtown--especially since Jack’s truck was parked in the empty lot next door and, having not yet had coffee, I wasn’t ready to face him. I’d been in too much of a hurry to get out of the house and avoid the latest squabble between Mama and DeLorean to take time out for coffee and now I was deeply regretting my haste.
Apparently Mama had decided my sister should cut her hair into a short, sassy bob that would look “ever so much more stylish and more suited to the hot weather of the South,” and DeLorean had decided that South or not, how she wore her hair was her own business. They’d tried to get me to take sides. I’d held up my hands, protested lateness, an impending headache, and a bad hair day. They were still bickering when I scooted out the door.
Veronica was dressed in a navy business suit and a frilly, low-cut, white blouse. Her gold earrings and matching necklace were equally stylish. She’d had her hair done and if there was a strand out of place, I couldn’t see it. I, on the other hand, had pulled my hair back with a couple of clips to get it off my face. Mama had made a remark about me needing to learn to French braid, and I’d replied that I lacked the hair styling gene and that’s when she’d turned her hairdo advice on DeLorean. I’d slipped into office casual--freshly ironed slacks and yellow cotton blouse, light make-up, low heeled leather shoes. Practical, comfortable, and why hadn’t I thought to dress like Veronica?
“Going to a business luncheon?” I asked.
Veronica glanced down and smoothed her skirt. A tiny smile of satisfaction played around her bee stung lips--product of the collagen injections she’d gotten last month. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
“You look especially pretty today.” She could have been a beauty queen if she’d been a few inches taller and didn’t mind offering insipid answers to stupid questions thought up by pageant judges.
“Thanks.” She didn’t return the compliment, not that I deserved it. But still. “I’m going to show you around first, and then you can start. I’ve fixed you an office in the front--computer, phone, fax. You’ll love it. I know you can’t wait to get started.”
I peered around cautiously and was relieved to see no sign of Jack. Of course, I wanted to try to get him to understand, to let him know I hoped to continue our friendship. I just didn’t want Veronica around to hear what I had to say.
“Come on,” she said, waving her hand in hurry up motions. “I’m running late. First a quick tour of the finished section. We can’t go in the construction area, though. It isn’t safe.”
“Good. I mean, good idea, we wouldn’t want to fall through the floor or anything.” Or run into Jack.
After a whirlwind tour of the front of the house, I came away with an impression of your typical antebellum Charleston house. Sweeping staircase, hardwood floors, grand chandelier. Modern touches such as electricity and bathroom added later, of course. If there were ghosts in the house, I didn’t hear or see them. I hoped the tourists would have better luck. Otherwise I’d feel like a fraud.
Veronica showed me to a well-lighted, beautifully restored room at the front of the house. “This is the parlor, but for now it’s your office. Help yourself to anything you need. After the construction is finished, you can move up to the third floor--there’s a huge room up there with a fabulous view.”
Apparently sensing my faint misgivings, she added, “Don’t worry, Susan. This business is going to take off and you’ll do great.”
“I’m counting on it. And, Veronica, thanks for giving me a chance. You’re a super person and a really good friend.” I meant every word. If it weren’t for her, I’d be spending the morning at the unemployment office, waiting in line and hoping that I could still draw a check, even though Odell had pretty much fired me.
“I’m the one thanking you.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’ve finally recovered from your divorce. I’ve been really worried about you for the longest time. I mean, you’re always too willing to carry the world on your shoulders. Put some of the blame on T. Chandler where it belongs instead of taking all the responsibility on yourself. Takes two, remember?”
My face flushed. She’d told me the same thing a million times since I’d gotten divorced, which didn’t make me feel one bit better. I’d read somewhere that people who are overly responsible and self-sacrificing are really egotists who are simply engaged in a big power grab. Not exactly flattering. I didn’t like to think of myself as a big power grabber.
“Could we please change the subject?” Like a little kid begging for another bowl of ice cream I shot her a quick smile and then stared down at my feet, barely resisting an impulse to dig my toe into the floor.
“Silly. Of course we can. You know when you called and told me you were going to look for a better job, I could tell by your voice you’d finally started to wake up and move into the future. Perfect, I thought, just in time for my ghost tours. I’ll let Susan handle it.”
Apparently the same thought that everyone in my family had. Often. And at the same time. Must be something to do with the collective unconscious I’d learned about in a book Patty gave me for my birthday.
For the next few minutes, Veronica flitted around like a demented sparrow, pointing out the location of anything I might need, while I kept nodding and saying “great.” Almost as an afterthought, she slid open a drawer and pulled out another thick packet--this one about the house’s history. Photos were included. She glanced at her watch, let out a shriek, and flew out the door, leaving me in my brand new office, which included a mini fridge. I allowed myself a smile of satisfaction. Despite my doubts about ghost hunting tours, the workplace made Odell’s shop look like a slum.
A coffeepot beckoned from a table under the window. I made a fresh pot and settled in to sort through the stack of photos.
I hadn’t done anything like this, not since my college days when I’d handled the paperwork and advertising for Veronica’s gift basket business, but the actual work was easy. The research I needed had been included in the packet and all I had to do was organize it and pull it together into a condensed version.
Occasionally I glanced out the window. The view from the front window was not, like the view from the pawnshop, a parking lot in a seedy looking neighborhood. Instead I could see a brick mansion and a well-tended yard across the street. Traffic was steady, but even the car noises and the steady clop of horses’ hooves as they passed by pulling carriages weren’t enough to distract me.
I even forgot that Jack was in the building. Kind of. Until he sauntered into my office and asked to use the phone.
I glanced up from my monitor to see him standing barely inside the doorway as if he intended to cut and run should I react like a cornered bear defending its cubs. “Give me a second and I’ll go in the other room while you make your call.” I sounded so prim I even disgusted myself
.
“That’s okay. It’s not private.” He strode over to the phone, picked up the receiver, and punched in a number.
Still uncertain about whether I should leave, I turned back to my work. I heard him tell someone he had to run home and change first or he might get thrown out of the place. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt and jeans, both of them showing signs of having spent hours in close proximity to a construction site. There were even a few strands of puffy pink insulation dotting the top of his head.
He hung up. “Thanks. My cell phone’s dead. It does that whenever I forget to charge the battery.”
No wonder he hadn’t returned my call. I stood and put both hands on my desk. No time like now, before I lost my nerve. “Jack--I’m sorry about the other night. The last thing I wanted was to leave you and run home to deal with Mama and DeLorean.”
“You do what you have to do just like all the rest of the world.” He shrugged.
“That’s right. I’m glad you understand.”
“Sure, I get it. I guess I always did.” He stared at his watch. His expression was pretty much blank. “Is that all? I’m meeting Veronica for a business lunch and I have to run home and get cleaned up first.”
My lips tightened and my mood plummeted toward my feet. He didn’t understand at all, damn it.
“Jack, wait.” I had so much to say. Such as, maybe I was a little slow or maybe it was because I was the late bloomer Mama always said I was, but I’d figured out since he came back to town that I was crazy about him. And I hoped he felt the same way now that he’d broken up with Kelly. Or I could tell him that I wanted him to take me back to his new house and this time I promised to turn off my cell phone and give him my undivided attention. Or that I wanted to be friends the way we used to be in high school—buddies, pals, anything I could get. Except I couldn’t say any of those things because this time I didn’t feel I was entirely to blame. A surge of something close to anger rose in my chest. People have families and sometimes the families need them. Friends who don’t understand that aren’t really friends.