“So, they were all druggies?” Harmony asked.
“How would I know?” Darcy asked and didn’t bother to contain her eye roll. “But, that’s what I heard.”
Harmony nodded.
“And, really, all I know is what I read about the whole situation,” Darcy said. “And it was brutal. And it freaks me out it happened in front of my house.”
My house? Her house? Harmony realized that Darcy thought of the guesthouse as her house. She’d never made that connection before. Like it wasn’t just some place she rented, but where she lived. The guesthouse. The handsome man had said they never went in the guesthouse, like they weren’t allowed. Harmony wondered what that meant. Darcy was obviously about as freaked out about the whole situation as she was. In fact, from the way she was acting, she looked decided more freaked out than Harmony actually was, if that was possible.
“Sorry, but I don’t like talking about this subject,” Darcy said. “It’s all Henry wanted to talk about. And Madeline, too. So annoying. No disrespect to the dead, but they were really annoying.”
“I didn’t like finding out about it myself,” Harmony remarked. “Sorry I brought it up. If I had known, I wouldn’t have said a word.”
“It’s okay,” Darcy said. “I didn’t find out about it until after I moved in, either, so I get how you feel. Like it’s too late now.” She chuckled a little.
Harmony smiled at her. “And sorry I went into your house. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just freaked out.”
“Well, sorry it was so messy,” Darcy said.
“It really wasn’t,” Harmony said. “But you do have some moldy cheese and expired milk in the refrigerator.”
Darcy laughed. “Oh, right. I guess I need to throw that out.”
“Might be a good idea,” Harmony said. “So, are we cool?”
“As cucumbers,” Darcy quipped and winked at her.
“Let me make it up to you by buying you lunch today,” Harmony said.
“It will have to be later,” Darcy said and glanced at her watch. “I have that meeting. God only knows how long that will take. We could be eating at midnight, like they do in Barcelona.”
“Oh, shoot,” Harmony said then brightened. “How about this? How about I fix you a delicious meal? Anything you want. What would you like?”
“A pot roast,” Darcy said immediately, as if she’d been waiting forever for someone to say that to her. “Is that weird to want a pot roast?”
“It’s not weird,” Harmony said. “But it might be detrimental to your modeling career.”
“Only if I eat it every day,” Darcy said.
“I can do that,” Harmony replied. “I just have to get to the grocery store and pick one up.”
“I’m kidding,” Darcy said. “You don’t have to make me a pot roast.”
“I don’t mind,” Harmony said. “Marc loves pot roast.”
“I haven’t seen him in a while,” Darcy said. “How is he?”
“Running around like a chicken with its head cut off,” Harmony said.
“Oh, busy as bee can be, is he?” Darcy asked and grinned. “He’s a hard worker.”
“He is,” Harmony said. “And he’s worried about the mortgage.”
“Yeah, I think you two overpaid for this house.”
Harmony gaped a little at her words. “You do? We got it at a steal.”
Darcy shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s got baggage and a lot of people wouldn’t be able to get past it.”
That’s what I thought, Harmony thought bitterly but didn’t say that. She just nodded in agreement. She stared at Darcy and wondered something. “Do you mind living here?” Harmony asked her.
“I don’t,” Darcy said. “I mean, I love it. It’s home to me and has been for a while. But, at the same time, I can see how it would make most people uncomfortable.”
Harmony nodded then something a little odd just then occurred to her. “Huh,” she muttered under her breath.
“What is it?” Darcy asked.
“I just then realized something,” Harmony said. “No one’s ever stopped by.”
“What?” Darcy asked and shook her head.
“You know, to welcome us to the neighborhood,” Harmony said, then explained, “When we first moved out here and into our old apartment, we had a bunch of people stopping by a lot. You know, to welcome us. Some brought us bottles of wine and one guy even baked an apple pie.” She thought about that pie and laughed. “It was awful but it was nice he put in the effort, you know? Everyone was relatively friendly, though really loud and sometimes obnoxious. And they invited us to barbeques and over for drinks. We didn’t go much because we always had a lot going on.”
“And you’re not a people person,” Darcy interjected.
Harmony shot her a sharp look, then realized that was probably how she came off in real life. She hated that, in a way, and told herself that she would try to do better in the future. “Well, that may be true,” she told her. “But after that, I sort of took it upon myself to bake the pies—apple, of course—and hand them out to the new people who moved in. And they were good pies, too.”
“Cool,” Darcy. “You know, I’ve never been one for apple pie. Don’t get it.”
“Oh, you’ve just never had a good one,” Harmony said and smiled widely. “And you’ve never had one of mine.”
“Well, when you make one, I’ll try it,” Darcy said.
“Right,” Harmony muttered, then shook her head. “But no one’s done that since we’ve moved in here. No one’s welcomed us to the neighborhood.”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Darcy said. “We’re in the Hills. And living here comes with dealing with bigger egos than struggling actors. It’s a new group of people, Harmony, and most of them are busy all the time hustling to keep their mortgages paid and their status updated, if you will. Or, they’re out and about on a yacht somewhere or on a movie set. Or they’re looking for their next house or investment opportunity. That’s the kind of people you’re dealing with here. They don’t have time to bake pies or say hello.”
“You’re probably right,” Harmony said. She thought about that and while it was a reasonable explanation and she accepted it as such, she didn’t much like it. However, it didn’t seem right that not one person had rung the doorbell to say hello. It just didn’t seem right, not at all. And it made her feel like an outsider.
“Don’t let this bother you,” Darcy said. “People are just people and people up here just don’t want to be bothered. That might make them seem a little standoffish, but it’s perfectly acceptable behavior.”
“It seems a little unkind,” Harmony said. “Or, even, unfriendly.”
“Well, it is,” Darcy said. “But, truth be told, this is a pretty infamous house. It freaks out a lot of people. And that might be what’s keeping a lot of people away. Sure, they’ll drive and look, but most? They’ll drive on by.”
Harmony sighed, wishing she’d drove on by. If she knew then what she knew now, she would have run past this house. And she wouldn’t have looked back.
“It’s just the way it is,” Darcy said and stood. “By the way, I wouldn’t get any ideas about knocking on doors around here. These people don’t do that sort of thing. And you might accidently set off a few alarms.”
“Okay,” Harmony said and smiled at her. But that’s precisely what she was going to do.
* * * * *
Harmony had a lot of pride in her apple pies. She made the best. They were crumbly, but not too much so. She cooked the apples until they were the perfect combination of soft but firm, never withered. She loved to make the lattice-strip top with homemade piecrust. She used real sugar and real butter. The pies took a lot of effort and whenever she made them, she felt a bit like Mildred Pierce making her pies in that old movie, which was one of her favorites.
She made a lot of apple pies—seven in total—and set them out on the counter to
cool. They looked and smelled delicious. She set one aside for Darcy, who had claimed she didn’t like apple pie. But, she knew, once she ate one of these, she would change her mind.
After the pies cooled, she packed most of them into a square cooler bag and set out of the house and into her neighborhood. On foot. There was a lot of road to cover, so she made sure to dress comfortably—her favorite distressed skinny jeans, a cute white peasant top, and a pair of comfortable running shoes. She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail and, as per usual, left her face clean of any makeup.
She hoped she looked cool and as put together as she felt, even if she was carrying a big bag filled with apple pies. She felt rather silly and as soon as she turned the corner and stopped in front of the first house—a cute little Spanish bungalow that, like her house, had gone through an enormous renovation—she began to wonder if this was such a good idea. It felt daunting and a little uncomfortable to walk up the steps to a stranger’s house and ring the doorbell, but she went ahead anyway.
Harmony squared her shoulders and stopped in front of the door, then rang the doorbell. She waited. And waited. No one came and no one answered. She looked around the porch towards the detached garage, which was at the back of the house, but the door was closed so she couldn’t see if a car was in there. She turned back to the front door and waited, then rang the bell again. Nothing.
Okay, so the first house was a bust.
“Get moving, girl,” she muttered to herself and left the Spanish bungalow and headed on down the street. The next house had a huge fence that was covered in ivy, which looked really, really cool. All she could see of the house was the flat roofline because the fence was so high. It also had a gate, which was, of course, locked. Harmony saw an intercom and pressed the button. To her astonishment, a disembodied voice came on the speaker, “Hello!”
Harmony nodded, thinking she didn’t know whether the person was male or female and said, “Hi! Do you hear me?”
Nothing. It’s like they just went away or something. It was weird. Harmony stared at the box and didn’t know what to do.
“Yeeeeeseeee?” the voice whined.
“Oh!” Harmony said. “Didn’t know you were still there!”
“Whaaaatttt?” the voice whined again.
“Oh, sorry. Anyway, hi, this is Harmony Franklin,” she said hurriedly, nervously. “Anyway, I just bought the house up the street, the mid-century? I don’t know if you know it or not but, anyway, I just wanted to introduce myself.” She paused then added, “I’m your new neighbor!”
There was a very long pause. Long enough for Harmony to think the person had either passed out or just walked away. Then the speaker came back on.
“I don’t speak English!” the person yelled in a very transatlantic accent, then more calmly, “Go. Away.”
The intercom went dead.
“Rude!” Harmony said and shook her head, feeling like a complete and utter fool. Her face burned with embarrassment and she wished she hadn’t even attempted this. This was the dumbest idea ever. Ever!
She stomped away from the house, then, fueled by her anger, stomped back to the gate, then pushed the speaker button again. She hissed, “I had pie for you!”
She glared at the voice box and turned on her heel and headed down the street again. By the time she got to the next house, she was over it, so much so that she didn’t even know what she had wanted to accomplish in the first place. She decided to abandon her plan of introducing herself to her neighbors and just go for a nice walk. So, that’s what she did; she took a walk down the hill and took time to take a look at all the houses on her street. It was pleasant to walk, even with the heavy cooler bag and the steep terrain. When she got almost to the end, right before the hill leveled out, she came across a very old, and very rundown, Spanish Revival house. It looked kind of like the house in Sunset Boulevard, another favorite movie of hers. It was massive. And it looked somewhat haunted. It was the exact opposite of her house. Harmony took an immediate liking to it.
She stood back from the street and stared at the house, wondering who lived there, if anyone. Maybe the Wax Works? She chuckled to herself, thinking she should watch Sunset Boulevard again soon and kept looking at the house. It looked almost abandoned. There was a huge, and very fancy yet terribly rusted, iron gate surrounding it with stone pillars separating the iron work only occasionally. English ivy curled up around it, almost completely taking it over. The yard was overgrown with what had once been very nice and expensive plants but now looked like they belonged in a jungle. One might need a machete to get through those plants and to the front door. The walkway, once a beautiful flagstone, was beginning to crumble. The stucco was peeling and flaking off in places and the windows looked like they hadn’t been washed in centuries.
It was so magnificent in its worn brilliance that Harmony just fell in love and couldn’t take her eyes off it. She wondered briefly how she’d overlooked this house on her way down the hill but didn’t give it too much thought. It was a little set off the street and had a huge lot, probably twice the size of hers, and hers was big for the neighborhood. As she studied it, she could see how a flipper would want to get their hands on this one. It just had a presence. She quite liked it but she was getting tired and wanted to get back home, put the pies in the refrigerator and call it a day.
Then, to her astonishment, before she could leave, a woman dressed in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants exited the house through the front door carrying a large bag of garbage. She looked to be about the same age as Harmony’s own mother—mid to late fifties. She had a sour expression on her weary face and her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She pushed the garbage into a huge receptacle beside the house next to the driveway and then started to push it down the driveway and towards the street. She stopped abruptly when she saw Harmony staring at her.
“Girl, you scared the hell out of me!” she said and put her hand over her heart. “What are you doing there?”
Harmony blushed and then shook her head. “I just… I just… I bought the house up the road and I was just out trying to meet my neighbors.”
The woman nodded, eying her. “Oh,” she said. “Well, I ain’t your neighbor. I just work for the old woman who owns the house here. That’s all.”
“Oh, well, sorry to have bothered you,” Harmony said and turned to leave.
“Hey, wait a minute,” she said. “You can go in and meet her, if you like. She’s old and can’t really hear that well, but she loves company.”
“Could I?” Harmony asked. “I mean, is that okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked and put her hand on her hip. “Which house did you buy?”
“The mid-century up the road,” Harmony replied.
She eyed her. “The one they redid a few years ago?”
“That’s it,” Harmony said, nodding.
“Wow,” the woman said, shaking her head. “Well, come on in. I am sure Josephine would love to meet you.” She walked over towards Harmony with her hand extended. “I’m Edith.”
“Harmony,” she replied and gave the woman’s hand a hearty shake. “Nice to meet you, Edith.”
She nodded, then eyed the cooler bag. “You ain’t selling anything are you?”
Harmony laughed. “No! Don’t worry! I’m not a salesman! I had this dumb idea to make pies and give them out, you know, to be nice. It was a stupid idea. Probably the most stupid idea I’ve ever had.”
“What kind of pies are they?” she asked and kept her eyes on the bag.
“Apple.”
“Apple?” she exclaimed. “Well, come on in. I like apple pie.”
Harmony followed her into the house which looked as rundown on the inside as it did on the outside. It was really cool, though. The floors were marble, though they were in need of some major polishing and the walls were stucco and there was all this really intricate woodwork indicative of the Spanish Revival style.
The staircase with its wrought iron detailing was stunning. Harmony loved the house and felt really comfortable there for some reason, probably even more comfortable than she did in her own house.
“I love this house,” Harmony said, looking around.
“Try keeping the damned thing clean,” Edith said and sighed heavily. “I’m just the housekeeper but I stay with the old woman, too, and keep an eye on her. Her family pays me. They think when she dies they’ll sell this house and make a fortune.”
“Oh,” Harmony said, not really knowing how to respond to that.
“Everything is about money with them,” Edith continued. “She doesn’t have any kids, just a couple of greedy as hell nephews. I think she should give this house to some charity myself. Why do they deserve it? They never come by and visit her, not even at Christmas. Just waiting for her to die.”
“That’s sad,” Harmony said and felt bad for the old woman who lived there.
“It is,” she said as they entered the kitchen. “It’s a damn shame how some people are.”
Harmony nodded and looked around the kitchen which seemed to have never been updated, save for the newer appliances that looked to be from the early eighties and seemed to be on their last legs. The cabinets went all the way to the ceiling and were white and very old and looked dingy. The best thing about the whole kitchen was the big island in the center of the room covered in well-worn butcher-block. There were a few stools around it for seating.
All in all, it looked really neat but old—vintage. She especially liked the farmers sink with the old faucet that came out of the wall. Harmony hadn’t realized how much she really liked this style of house but being in this kitchen made her feel really comfortable and at ease.
“You said something about pie?” Edith asked and nodded at the bag.
“Oh!” Harmony exclaimed and placed the bag on the island, then unzipped it. She pulled out a pie, peeled back the plastic wrap and presented it to her. “Freshly made.”
“It sure is,” Edith said, smiling and took the pie, placed it on the counter then opened a cabinet and pulled out a few plates.
The House in the Hills Page 13