by Sylvie Kaye
"Don't bother calling him. He can let the phone ring off the hook or hang up on you if things get sticky. Stop by the job site,” Ann coached. “If his excuse is valid, he'll explain. If not, there's nothing more satisfying than a showdown."
"I don't have time for a showdown. Maybe I should send Eric or Ken.” Jilly could run three errands or study her notes for an exam in the time it took to give Zack a good piece of her mind. She tossed her lunch bag into the fridge.
"Yes, send the guys over.” Ann sat at her desk and tapped her chubby chin, apparently pondering options. “I can't even help out with your aunts. I've volunteered for five evenings a week at the nursing home."
"It's sweet of you to worry, but it's not your problem, Ann. I should've known better. Zack was the one who wanted a heart connection, and I'm the one who ended up with broken heartstrings.” Jilly waved her hand in the air, lost for words to describe the indignities done to her by the man.
"Go ahead and vent.” Ann pulled the roster for the day from the desk drawer. “Then concentrate on your studies, the job, your future."
Her future without Zack. Looked like she'd trusted the wrong man. If her aunts were right—and it looked as if they were—every man was the wrong man.
She'd so wanted Zack to be the right man. He was so lovable and loving. And gone.
Jilly would go on without him. Somehow she'd get through this. With a snap to her spine, she flipped up the striped shade on the window and opened the front door to greet little Molly and her mom.
She moved through the morning by rote. By lunchtime, she was itching for an answer as to what had happened to Zack and his promise to her.
Unable to eat the ham sandwich Aunt Adele had prepared so lovingly with the crusts trimmed, Jilly dialed Ken's number.
He answered by the second ring. “Hello, girlfriend.” His pleasant hello turned into a screech upon hearing her bad news. “How could he?” he echoed yet a third time.
"I was wondering if you or Eric could stop by the construction site. Not to confront him. Just to find out if he's deathly ill or has already died or has some other reasonable explanation.” Her voice cracked.
She hated that she cared, especially since Zack obviously didn't care a hammer or nail about her or her aunts or any of their feelings. Tears of anger and hurt welled in her eyes.
"Are you crying, Jilly? Don't you shed a tear over that insensitive lout."
"I'm not crying,” she fibbed.
"What's the name of that cousin of his?"
"Bob,” Jilly said, too upset, too tired, too disillusioned to ask what Ken had in mind.
"You leave this to Kenny,” he said. “Eric and I will stakeout the jobsite and see what's what without giving you away."
"Thank you,” Jilly said into the dead phone. Ken was obviously off and running.
That evening Jilly didn't come home to a man-empty house. Ken was there. Her aunts were not. They were at Hannah's. She was glad they were out and about after their long spell stranded indoors.
"Wait till I tell you,” Ken gushed, “what Eric and I pulled off at the construction site."
"I can't wait.” She could. She wasn't much in the mood for fun. But she followed Ken into the parlor and pretended interest. What she really wanted to know was what Zack had to say.
When Jilly kicked off her shoes and plopped onto the stuffed chair, Eric popped up from behind the sofa, leaping over it in a single bound. He stood in front of her wearing a construction uniform of sorts. He had on a denim work shirt, with the sleeves ripped off up to his armpits, tight jeans, work boots, and a hardhat. He looked like one of the Village People. “I pretended I needed a job and asked for Big.” Eric grinned.
Jilly squirmed in her chair. From the looks of his getup this didn't sound promising.
"He got lots of whistles and howls from the men.” Ken clapped his hands and laughed. “We figured if Zack was around he'd get a hoot out of it. Sort of start things off on a lighter note. And if he wasn't on site, we'd ask for his cousin Bob and a job."
"What were you dressed as?” Jilly asked. Ken seemed to be himself.
"My GI Joe outfit didn't fit in with the work site theme.” Both Ken and Eric laughed. Jilly fretted. “I went as an innocent but short bystander."
"Good disguise.” She smiled, despite herself.
Lately, her moods were like rainbows, not happy ones though. She went from purple funk to blue disappointment, red anger, green jealousy over the idea of Zack with another woman, and sunny yellow for all the world to see—except for her near and dear.
"Anyway,” Ken went on, “the fact that Eric wasn't hired ends the good news.” He flopped onto the arm of the chair and put his arm around her shoulder.
"We're afraid the rest is bad.” Eric crouched down in front of her chair, as best as his tight jeans allowed.
"I expected as much.” Jilly patted their hands. They were such good friends to go to all this trouble on her account.
"Zack wasn't around,” Eric said. “Bob told me that the man in charge of hiring was in Texas and wouldn't be back."
Jilly gulped. “There's a hotel going up in Houston.” Looked like Zack had jumped ship, much like her father had done—but in Zack's case it was more like he'd jumped jobsites.
She held back her peeve and pain with a deep breath.
"Hey, there are bigger, better fish in the ocean. In the Mississippi River for that matter.” Ken patted her hand. “Let him flounder in Texas."
"I can fly out there and snag him back here, if you want?” Eric offered. “Or turn him into bait if you prefer.” He flexed his knuckles.
"No.” She shook her head. “You've both been such a help. Thanks, guys. You're the greatest."
And proof that at least not all men were flounders.
The next week turned out to be as big a bust as Zack's desertion.
Aunt Gloria called Tiny Tykes. “Did Mr. Stodd the plumber die?"
Jilly tried to recall the obits she'd read over the past year. “Not that I know of."
"He doesn't answer his phone,” her aunt said, accusingly.
"He must be over ninety. If he's alive, his hearing might not be."
"Oh?” Silence. Aunt Gloria seemed to have dropped the phone.
Aunt Adele picked it up. “A pipe under the kitchen sink is leaking. Mickey Muller and his mother aren't home. We need a plumber,” she stammered.
"Stay calm.” Jilly hoped her aunt's blood pressure wasn't climbing.
Aunt Vinny took over next. “Gloria's wrapping some towels around the pipe. It's turned into more of a gusher than a leak."
Jilly reminded her aunt where the shutoff valve was and hung up to call a plumber. Acme, the first one listed in the yellow pages, promised to get around to them soon.
She couldn't leave Ann shorthanded so she waited until Meghan's cousin, an intern who was lousy with paperwork, phones, and in general the business end, but great with the kids came in. Immediately, Jilly ran home to see what she could salvage before the plumber got there.
When she entered the house, unfortunately the plumber hadn't arrived early, but Aunt Gloria had found the shut off valve. Towels were wrapped around the pipe under the kitchen sink and Aunt Vinny's ankle.
"Her cane slipped,” Aunt Gloria explained.
"She narrowly missed landing on her head.” Aunt Adele's face was way too rosy for Jilly's liking, not to mention the gaudy purple color of Aunt Vinny's ankle.
"I'm taking you to the emergency room.” She looked at Aunt Adele. “Both of you."
With the help of the cane and Aunt Gloria, Jilly was able to load Aunt Vinny into the car. Aunt Adele managed on her own. Aunt Gloria stayed behind to wait for the plumber.
Hours later, after Aunt Vinny's ankle was diagnosed as a sprain, and Aunt Adele's pressure had stabilized, and Jilly had visited the drugstore to get their prescriptions filled, she mopped up the kitchen. Once she threw out the soggy containers from beneath the sink, she changed the shelf paper, straigh
tened up, and lugged the carton to be put back into storage out from the pantry.
She'd hardly seen her aunts lately, except for a brief glimpse in the mornings. This had to stop. She couldn't leave them unattended all day and most of the evening. Especially now with Aunt Vinny unable to get around on her own. Plus, there were other neglected chores and errands to catch up on.
With Eric away on business, Ken busy with the restaurant, and Ann helping out at the nursing home, Jilly had to choose between skipping classes or shifts at work. With the additional expenses of the pharmacy and the plumber, there really was no choice.
Before hefting the cardboard carton to carry it into the storage area, she readjusted the lid and a few envelopes and papers spilled out. Stuffing them back in, she spied the letter written in Aunt Adele's handwriting. She remembered the odd water-stained letter with the runny ink addressed to a Darling Daughter.
Absently, she unfolded and read the weathered pages. Her breath halted as she reread the words again. If what was written here was true, the ink had most likely smudged from tears and not water.
If this was true, and it must be, the letter said so, Jilly's mother was Aunt Adele's daughter not her sister. That made Aunt Adele Jilly's grandmother. Numbness shot through her fingers and she dropped the pages.
She sat back on her heels and let the information sink in for a long time, replaying the meaning over and over in her mind. A grandmother. She had a grandmother. The fact thrilled her. A grandmother was the closest bond she could have to her mother. Ever expected to have.
But poor Aunt Adele. Why did she have to keep such a secret all these years?
No wonder the writing on the letter was blurred from tears. It must've been heartbreaking for her to be around her daughter every day without being able to tell her the truth. Or hold her and love her like a mother would do. The poor dear.
When Jilly thought on it, Aunt Adele always treated her more loving than her other two aunts did. Yes, more like a grandmother than an aunt. The reason was clear. They had a special bond between them, even if it remained unspoken.
What should she do about it?
She shook her head. Nothing. This was obviously a family secret for some reason. A letter written to relieve the pain, not to be read.
Jilly left the carton in the pantry and kept the letter until tomorrow when she'd return it. Tomorrow she'd show it to Ann and ask her about the unexpected discovery. Ann's mother and Aunt Adele had been best friends. Ann might know the details.
But would she tell?
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Damn, but he'd missed hooking up with Jilly yet again. Aunt Vinny said she was out. Zack hung up the phone in his hotel room. He'd had enough.
One day of problems chased the next in Houston. No way was he staying here for the duration of the construction. He missed Jilly, bad. If truth be told, her skittish aunts as well. Although he talked to them daily, he hadn't spoken to Jilly in well over a week. He'd left his hotel's phone number with her aunt and his cell number in case Jilly misplaced it. She was so busy she hadn't found the time to call him back.
He gulped down his morning coffee and rang up his father. Quitting before the job was done wasn't something he wanted to do, but he'd promised to help Jilly, and being there for her was more important than making a point. A moot point, most likely.
"Hello,” Big Al squawked.
"Zack here. Listen, I think it's about time Stan takes charge.” Zack grabbed his wallet and change from the nightstand and shoved them into his jeans pocket.
"What? Where?” Big Al snapped. “Stan can't charge a flashlight battery let alone run a job site.” While he listened, Zack snatched up the keys to his rental car. “Bob's doing okay in New Orleans,” his father barked out. “I check on him several times a day."
Zack betted Bob loved that.
"I mean here,” Zack said. “You're going to have to put Stan in charge because I'm going back to New Orleans on the next flight."
"You get hit with a hammer, boy?"
The boy remark cinched it. “No. My future's in New Orleans."
"Your future's where I say it is and right now that's in Houston."
"Not anymore, sir.” Zack wasn't backing off now that he'd gotten started.
"Then you're fired as foreman from both projects. You better keep your butt in Texas until Stan gets there. We have a few things to finish up in Milwaukee before I put him on a plane. It'll be a few days.” The phone went dead.
There went his bonus for finishing the New Orleans project on time. Zack hung up the receiver, tossed the car keys, and sank down on the edge of the unmade king size bed. He'd hoped to explain his future plans to his father, but there was no sense in dialing him back. He'd only hang up again.
Actions spoke loudest with Big Al anyway. Zack would have to prove himself a success in his own business, then stick it in his father's eye to get it noticed.
Right now, he had other calls to make. He rang up his brother Stan.
"Yeah,” Stan said when he picked up, and then when he heard his voice, “Zack, I was about to call you. I still can't believe the old man fired you. You're his son for crissake."
"He didn't waste any time telling you.” He shook his head.
"Working for the old man is trickier than walking a steel girder some days."
"Unless you like what you do and you're good at it, like you are."
"Yeah, I'm good at it.” Stan sounded convinced. Either the class in assertiveness or the woman he'd met there had helped. “What are your plans now?"
Zack smiled, glad for Stan. “Same as before. He just saved me the trouble of quitting when I finished up in New Orleans.” Only thing was now money was going to be tighter, but if he leased a workshop instead of buying one right out he'd get by. “Call back when you get a flight number. I'll pick you up at the airport.” After a few parting words, they hung up and he dialed Bob.
"Hey, cousin,” he said.
"I heard what happened."
"Already?"
"Big Al called the site."
"Looks like I'm starting my own business quicker than I planned."
"It's a good move for both you and Stan, eh. You heading back to Milwaukee?"
"No. As soon as Stan lands in Houston, I'll be flying out to New Orleans. Probably in two or three days. Are you hiring?"
"You bet I could use your help. How'd you know I was promoted?"
"I know my father."
"I told him I'm only staying on with the company until the hotel's finished, and then I'm taking my bonus and heading for Alaska. Are you setting up your business in New Orleans?"
"That's my aim. Looks like we're all finally moving on. How are things at the site?"
"We're on schedule for now. A few men quit, a few hired on. Some guy asking for a job the other afternoon tried to hit on me.” For once, Bob sounded shocked.
"Hire him?” Zack laughed.
"Nah. He scared me. Tight pants, tight shirt, walked and talked tight. Some little guy was nearly rolling on the sidewalk laughing at us. I mean little. Less than five feet."
That twitched Zack's eyebrow. “The tall guy a blond? Mustache? Green eyes?"
"Yeah, that's him. Did he hit on you too?"
"No, but I think I know both of them.” They sure sounded like Ken and Eric. Zack wondered what those pranksters were up to. “What did you tell him?"
"I told him the guy who did the hiring was in Texas, permanently. Figured that would get rid of him for good."
Zack scrubbed his hand over his face. No wonder Jilly hadn't called him back. If the guy had been Eric, he surely passed that misinformation on to her. Add that to whatever miscommunications the forgetful aunts relayed and what must Jilly think? The worst.
"Has Jilly come by? I haven't been able to reach her. All I get are the aunts and a runaround."
"No, she hasn't. Sorry. Want me to call her or stop by and hit up the aunts?"
&nb
sp; "Nah.” Bob was pretty insensitive when it came to women. He could turn a misunderstanding into a disaster. “But one of these days I promise I'm going to fix you up with her aunts. All three of them."
"How are you holding up?” Ann whispered to Jilly during naptime at Tiny Tykes.
"I'm behind on my studies, but now that Aunt Vinny's sprain is healing I'm hoping to catch up.” Jilly leaned on the desk while Ann wrote up reports beneath the glow of the arched arm of the desk lamp.
"Anything I can do, just ask. I'm available over the weekends,” Ann offered.
"I couldn't. You work all day here and evenings at the nursing home, you need your weekends to recoup. But I would like to talk to you about something.” She slipped into the office chair next to Ann.
"Sure, anything.” She put her ink pen down and looked up.
Pulling the letter from her handbag, Jilly set it on the desk in front of Ann. “That's Aunt Adele's handwriting."
Ann unfolded the creased paper but didn't read much before she stopped and handed it back to Jilly. “I shouldn't be reading this.” Her eyes dulled with sadness.
"Your mother and Aunt Adele were best friends. Did she ever mention anything to you about Aunt Adele having a daughter?"
"You're putting me on the spot here. You should discuss this with your aunt."
So Ann did know something. “According to the letter Aunt Adele is my grandmother. Even if she doesn't acknowledge me, it makes me feel bonded. My mother died before I ever knew her, and I've been an orphan of sorts all my life. I'd like to know my father or my grandfather if they're alive, and if they want to meet me."
"Aww, Jilly,” she groaned. “Your grandfather wasn't worth knowing. He's dead. Leave it at that, okay?"
Tucking the letter away, she met Ann's eyes. “I was hoping for at least one long, lost relative. Someone that knew my mother and could tell me about her. You know my aunts. They never say much about my mother. They're never going to reveal the secret of her birth, especially since it obviously involves a cover up by their Papa."
"Okay, I can't stand this any longer.” Ann threw her hands up. “I've lived with this secret for years, watching your mother from across the street and knowing. But what I say has to stay between us. Oh, hell, I don't care if it doesn't. You're what's important to me."