Wiping a straggler tear away before ruining her makeup, Suzy grimaced. “Words aren’t as powerful as actions, Sam. Reed tells me he loves me all the time yet doesn’t show it. He acts like a preprogrammed robot. I get more intimacy from a piece of plastic and batteries! I’m tired of being ignored. Having someone look at me with such interest, such passion…”
“Such lust?”
Suzy nodded.
“Yeah, I get it. Been there, bought the t-shirt, and the memories are forever ingrained on my body.” Sam flicked the hair back on her forehead, exposing the scar. “You’re 100% on target about actions. If you take away anything of value from my life, let it be not making the same mistakes I did. Do not, I repeat, do not let your libido or leftover yearnings for approval and validation override what’s real or define who you are. Reed’s real. His love is real. Those two kids are real. I think this goes way beyond feelings of loneliness. Seeing Kip again threw you back in time, and now you want to erase a moment which hurt you, but looking backward means you miss what’s in front of you. Besides, I shoved plenty of skeletons into the family closet. There’s no room for more.”
Suzy noticed two SUVs turn into the parking lot, grateful for the distraction. The conversation topic made her stomach sour. Pulling away from Sam’s embrace, she set her jaw, determined not to ruin her sister’s big night. “You’re right, as usual. I didn’t mean to be such a whiner.”
“I believe I’m the one who started the conversation. The topic’s been on my mind for a while. I sort of hoped I misread the signals.”
“Stop. No drama tonight. Time to celebrate. Mom, Reed, and Resa are here. Excuse me while I go freshen up and put my happy face back on.” Turning, Suzy headed toward the downstairs restroom.
Taking a deep breath, Sam strode across the new floors, making a mental note to steer clear of heels during work hours. The high ceilings and exposed, original brick walls made the noise reverberate. It sounded like a herd of cattle tromping through the house.
Opening the front door, the gust of cold air made her shudder. A few tattered leaves fluttered inside, swirling around her feet like playful cats chasing their tails. She almost gasped while watching the spectacle. Steps slow and calculated, arms looped together, Charmee and Caroline made their way up to the porch. It didn’t appear either was trying to trip the other. Glancing at the empty wine glass, Sam wondered if Suzy laced it with a powerful hallucinogen.
“I believe we skipped fall and went straight to winter. I think the temp is close to freezing!” Once in the warm foyer, Charmee reached over, helping Caroline out of her wool coat while Sam’s mouth gaped open. “Stop gawking and take our jackets and purses upstairs please.”
“Slugger! The place looks magnificent!” Caroline looked around, admiring the updates. “Did you take plenty of pictures of the second floor for me?”
Shaking her head to get her bearings back from the strange, kind interaction between the pair, Sam smiled. “Of course I did Nana. After you mentioned it would be difficult for you to climb the stairs, I decided I didn’t like the idea of strangers and acquaintances trudging around up in my private quarters, so I took a bunch. They’ll be looped to show continuously on that TV right there in the conference room.”
“Great idea, but how in the world do you plan to keep guests from sneaking upstairs?”
“Reed installed new doors, see Mom?” Suzy chimed in from the waiting area. In three quick strides, she kissed both mother and grandmother before pointing to the dual staircase. “Before the first guests arrive, we’ll lock it up tight.”
“Excuse me while I take care of that before I forget.” Sam headed upstairs.
“I would enjoy a personal tour. May I join you?”
“Sure, Mom. Come on up.” Sam wondered if her mother was the one high. The calm demeanor and pleasant attitude was foreign, and the only logical conclusion was it was due to pharmaceuticals.
Once on the second floor, Sam led the way to her bedroom. Charmee admired the mocha-colored walls, the sheen on the original pine floors, the lovely prints on the walls and the ornate lighting fixtures. She knew Sam helped pick out some items, but Suzy’s decorative flare shone through. She was glad Suzy’s interior design degree from the University of Central Arkansas got some use.
“The bedroom is stunning. The contrast of the white walls and varying colors of purple is pure magic! The fixtures, the mingling of old southern charm with hints of cool elegance—breathtaking! Oh, Suzanne outdid herself.”
Tossing the coats onto the thick, lilac-colored duvet, Sam felt a sense of pride swell inside her chest. “I decorated this room—top to bottom. I wanted it to reflect who I am, flaws and all. Go ahead and say it.”
Charmee took in room’s lovely ambiance. “Say what?”
“How you feel about the concept, now that you know Suzy didn’t decorate.”
Charmee heard the undertones of anger and resentment in Sam’s voice, coupled with a defiant arm-cross. She deserved no less after all the years of pushing her daughter’s buttons. The urge to apologize for being so gruff tugged at her heartstrings, but Samantha Marie didn’t respond to coddling or sugary-sweet compliments like Suzanne did. Sam thrived on proving her wrong; Suzy thrived on pleasing her. Yet tonight, she felt the urge to take the relationship into a new direction.
“Samantha, I didn’t come up here to start an argument. Believe it or not, I wanted a few minutes of private time.”
Wary of the true motivation, Sam searched for any signs of deceit. While staring, she noted the differences from her mother’s usual appearance. The cream-colored silk dress she wore was beautiful yet subdued. No cleavage spewing out. Her makeup looked tasteful and the color of her hair more chocolate brown with hints of red. Rather than going all out to ensure the spotlight was centered on her, was it possible her mother was going to step back and let Sam take center stage for once?
“Samantha, did you hear me?”
“Yes. I’m trying to figure out your angle.”
“I guess I deserve the dig.” Charmee sighed. “After my recent health scare, it was time to take stock of things. Suzanne pointed out to me I might have been too harsh on you over the years.”
“Mom, having breast implants removed doesn’t count as a health scare.”
Charmee wrestled to tamp down her irritation. She had yet to share with Samantha or Suzanne what the doctor said regarding her health, so she couldn’t be angry at the smart retort. “Each individual tends to view an event from their own limited perspective, dear. If you’re finished grilling me about my motives, I have something to say before the guests arrive.”
Uncrossing her arms, Sam’s mouth went dry. She sensed the sincerity in the words. “I’m sorry, Mom. Go ahead.”
“I know I gave you grief about purchasing this place, making you feel like the decision was the worst mistake you ever made. I never intended to hurt your feelings, I promise. My Sam—so headstrong, so sure of yourself and what you want from life—it never occurred to me when I vocalize my opinions they penetrated your tough exterior. I want to apologize and let you know from this point forward I’ll do my best to be more supportive.”
Sam didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. She opted for dark humor. “I knew Suzy put something in my wine.”
“You and your smart mouth. I swear you channel your father sometimes,” Charmee chuckled. Holding out her hands, she waited until her daughter clasped them before continuing. “I’m proud of your accomplishments. It was wrong of me to say such an ugly thing about your father the first day you brought me here. He did love this place and Nana’s right—he’s pleased as punch with what you accomplished. Let’s head downstairs before both of us end up crying like lost goats, ruining our stoic reputations as cold-hearted bitches.”
Sam pulled her mother into a tight hug. “First the Berlin Wall comes down and now ours crumples? Isn’t that one of the seven signs of the apocalypse or something?”
“Guests are pulling in Sam. We coul
d use some help with setting out the food!” Suzy yelled from downstairs.
“Sounds like our cue. Come on, daughter. Your night to shine has begun.”
Once reaching the top of the dual stairwells, Sam locked both doors, eager to kick off her new adventure and show the place off to those yearning to see it.
HOURS LATER, THE party in full swing and downstairs packed with bodies, Sam couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. Other than Suzy’s wedding, she’d never posed for so many pictures. Between a reporter from the Sentinel Record and a representative from the chamber of commerce, at least a hundred pics were snapped.
Most of the circuit and municipal court judges from Garland County made an appearance, plus the majority of attorneys in the city. Judge Nathanial Hornsby made her laugh while regaling her with his opinions of the “former eyesore of Garland County.” The old judge even hinted the place was haunted by the spirits of those who used to live there.
“Every time I drive by this place, it makes chills run up my spine. A dirty penny of the city’s past is gone, polished and replaced by a bright, shinier version. Good job, Ms. Chapman.”
Sam thanked the elderly man before he shuffled away to mingle with other guests. She knew of him yet didn’t know him personally. Nana told her earlier the man was turning 75 in a few months and would retire from the bench within a year.
Sam loved being an attorney yet couldn’t fathom working so late in life.
Several of her former colleagues from Benton & Baxter dropped by, as well as about half of the people she graduated law school with years ago. When her former junior high principal, Ms. Townsend, arrived and raised a glass for the first toast of the night, Sam fought back tears.
Reed and Suzy were heralded as miracle workers for turning the decaying structure into a showpiece. Sam laughed every single time another guest gawked while commenting about how gorgeous the exposed, original brick looked. She couldn’t count all the arguments she had with Reed and Suzy, insisting the old, faded bricks be covered with fresh, new sheetrock. She lost the battle and was now glad she did.
Several of Nana’s friends from The Atrium arrived, courtesy of the facility’s shuttle service. Three made appointments for the next week to have Sam go over their estate planning. Since they lived in the most expensive, top-notch senior living facility in the county, Sam hoped they would retain her services, relieving some of the financial worries stewing in the back of her mind. Her bank account with the funds from her stint at Benton & Baxter was running on fumes.
Glancing over across the room, she noticed Resa looked a bit harried. Her best friend had been slinging drinks all night from behind the reception area temporarily functioning as the bar. The space behind her was so crammed with wine, numerous bottles of hard liquor, three cases of spritzer, and four cases of beer, the poor woman could hardly move. Sam planned on hiring a bartender but Resa insisted on “reliving the college bartending days” by assuming the role. She loved the woman as much, if not more, than she did Suzy. She insisted on paying her for the time spent, but Resa refused the offer. Instead of paying in cash, Sam purchased a gift certificate for a day at the spa, hiding it inside a thank you card. She slipped it inside Resa’s purse when she was busy mixing and pouring.
Though Resa’s blonde curls were pulled into a tight chignon, a few tendrils escaped, sticking to her damp forehead and cheeks. The bar was the most popular spot of the evening. People came in, did a quick tour while gushing about Lily Belle before heading straight for the booze.
Nana sat with several of her friends in the conference room, laughing and talking as they downed wine like it was juice. While walking through the throngs of guests toward the bar, Sam noticed her mother chatting with Suzy and Reed. A sense of warmth spread throughout her body, and not just from the three previous glasses of wine. For the first time in two years, she felt content. The only thing missing to make the evening perfect was Big Sam.
Sam handed Resa the empty glass.
“Merlot, right?”
“Water please. I don’t want to get too tipsy and fall off my heels and break something. I need to get back to work, not spend time in the hospital. Why don’t you let me pour drinks for a few and take a smoke break? You look a bit frazzled. I set an ashtray out back on the deck for you.”
“No way. The hostess isn’t supposed to tend bar. She’s to mingle with her guests while schmoozing for new clients.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind…”
“I won’t.” Resa gave Sam a glass of water with a lemon. “Tell me again why this place isn’t on the historical registry? Several people asked me why and I couldn’t recall the reason.”
“We had to gut the inside. Not enough of the original structure was left to qualify. The new floors and subfloor on this level put us over the top.”
“Oh, right! Thanks for refreshing my memory. Would you please send Reed outside to get more ice from the cooler out back? I’m almost out. I didn’t realize lawyers like to drink so much.”
“I knew. Why do you think I spent a small fortune on booze rather than the food no one’s touched?”
Sam glanced behind her, smiling as Reed put his arm around Suzy’s shoulder while nuzzling her neck. Suzy blushed as though a giddy teenager. Since the pressure of the job was over, Sam hoped the night would end with the two rekindling the flames of passion they once shared. During their first few years of marriage, their over-the-top displays of affection drove their mother crazy. She knew Suzy adored her husband, and Reed loved her with all his heart. She was glad she didn’t spot Kip in the crowd. His presence would spoil the lovely evening.
STEPPING OUT OF the warm car, he straightened his jacket before locking the door. The crisp air felt refreshing against his freshly-shaven face. Glancing around the parking lot, he smiled. He arrived at the peak time, as he meticulously planned. There were at least fifty vehicles, which meant he would slip inside undetected, mingling with the boozehounds and social climbers without arousing suspicion.
With brisk strides, he made his way toward the front porch. Sam spent the money wisely. The place was immaculate, attention to detail everywhere his gaze fell. Native Arkansas rock dotted the small front yard, creating a natural-looking path to the front steps. A porch swing swayed in the light breeze, reminding him of his grandmother’s house and all the hours he spent sitting with her while shelling peas. Two large ferns in ceramic pots sat on each side of the dual entrances. Petunias of varying colors hung from the eaves. An expensive placard attached to the brick wall announced to the world the building was the law offices of S.M. Chapman, Esquire.
The new half-glass, half-wood doors shimmered under the porchlight. Stopping at the entrance, he watched and listened to the spectacle inside. Many of the guests wore fake smiles, their laughter forced as they mixed and mingled.
They were all a bunch of pathetic tools, only making an appearance to be seen by others and chug down free alcohol.
Though Sam purchased the home at a tax sale for a low price, her brother-in-law completed the renovations at cost, and her sister served as the decorator, it didn’t matter. Sam’s funds had to be running on fumes after not working for over a year. Even though her Tahoe was paid off and the rent at her previous apartment a reasonable price, money had to be tight. He guessed only a few thousand remained from the original quarter million in Sam’s account. It was a smart choice to buy her very first home to use as a residence and business. He wondered if she planned on selling her vehicle as well, since home and office were in the same location.
Sam followed the agreement she drew up and forced him to sign. Her practice was over fifty miles away, she used a different name, and since she switched niches, his clients were safe. His worries about her sharing intimate details of their relationship with her family ended when her mother showed up at his office the week prior, inviting him to the open house.
Charmaine Chapman was too old-school southern to come right out and say the
real reason for the invite, though she danced around the subject enough he understood.
Charmaine wanted to see them get back together so her daughter would marry the “right” kind of man.
He waited with exceptional patience for tonight. The construction process was over and the firm up and running, yet that didn’t mean clients would flock to retain her services. For the foreseeable future, she would be a bundle of nerves, worrying about how to pay all the overhead associated with a law firm, which would be expensive, even for a one-person operation.
By Christmas, Sam would be desperate, which is what drove him. Tonight, he planned on beginning the operation to regain control over Sam by pushing her toward the path of personal destruction.
Leaves rustled behind him. Turning his head, he noticed someone standing near the trunk of the large, old oak tree by the sidewalk. The person was bundled in several layers, each one dirty and threadbare. Thin tendrils of gray hair poked out from under the blue skullcap on the head. The streetlight behind the thin frame cast eerie shadows across the body making the individual look almost ethereal. He guessed female from the build. She didn’t appear to notice him. The woman’s attention was focused on the window to his right, staring at the interior.
He knew the area Samantha took up residence and placed her shingle was close to several chemfree and half-way houses. The disheveled trash was obviously a resident of one of them.
Or it might be her, his unwilling partner in crime.
Opening the door, he stepped inside, grinning when the sensual sounds of Kenny G’s saxophone greeted his ears. He knew jazz would fill the air, and if he had time to wait long enough, the playlist would include several songs by the artist. When Samantha was nervous, the smooth notes calmed her; when feeling amorous, they released her sensual side.
Scanning the room, he took in all the design elements, impressed with the changes. His woman had a flair for decorating though she tended to second-guess herself, giving way to her pathetic, self-absorbed twin’s ideas and designs.
Fatal Agreements Page 4