by Julie Hyzy
She made a noise that sounded like acceptance.
“Have you said anything to Liza?” I asked.
“I told you we can’t say a word to her. She’ll be crushed.”
“She’s a big girl. She can handle it,” I said. “And just so you’re aware, Liza must have sensed that something was amiss. Last time she was here, she said she suspected as much.”
“What? No, she didn’t,” Aunt Belinda scoffed. “You’re telling me that to convince me to spill the story to your sister. I won’t do it. I won’t hurt her more than she’s already been hurt.”
“And what about me, Aunt Belinda?” Stretched to the breaking point, I couldn’t stop exasperation from seeping through. “When have you ever worried about how much Liza’s indiscretions affected me? I’ve been responsible. I’ve taken care of my finances, my life, and even our mother while she lay dying. Where was Liza? What has she done with all the opportunities that have come her way? She squandered them.”
Aunt Belinda tried to interrupt but I talked right over her.
“Don’t argue. You know it’s true. What galls me is the way the two of you are working together to force Bennett to subsidize Liza’s cavalier lifestyle. She doesn’t deserve anything from him.”
“Easy to say when you’re sitting on top of a fortune that you’re too selfish to share with your own flesh and blood.”
I nearly lost it. The temptation to reveal the clues I’d found in the family albums—as well as the burning desire to demand answers—bubbled up in my chest with a pain so searing hot I thought my heart would burst.
I drew in a deep breath through my nose. “Bennett’s stipend offer to Liza is more than generous.”
“Tell me another one,” she said with derision. “The man is a millionaire. He can afford a whole lot more than he’s letting on.”
Billionaire. But you don’t need to know that. I pulled my lips in and held tight.
“Our attorney says he’s going to push to reschedule our meeting for Monday afternoon,” she said when I remained silent.
“We’ll do our best to accommodate your schedules,” I said. “But I can’t promise Bennett will be available on such short notice.”
Aunt Belinda’s heavy breathing whistled through the phone line. “Why do you resent your sister?” she asked. “What has she ever done to you to deserve your spite?”
I raised my fist to my lips to keep from retorting.
“Your mother was the same way with me. She never approved of me. Not ever. She was the golden child in our family. The one who could do no wrong.”
Except for that alleged affair.
“You don’t understand how hard it is to live up to such high standards,” she said.
“What standards?” I asked. “You’re eight years older than my mother.”
“She was always belittling me for my mistakes.”
“That doesn’t sound like my mother.”
“You didn’t know her the way I did,” she said. “She treated me like dirt.”
She hung up before I could respond. Puffing up my cheeks, I blew out a long breath. So much for keeping my cool. I stared at my cell phone for a long moment before putting it back down. I then meandered into the kitchen to stare at the house phone. Could Arlene have missed my message? Perhaps she was out of town. Maybe she’d become ill or passed away.
I sighed. There was a chance I’d never know the truth about Liza’s birth. And with every passing moment, time ran out. There was only so long I could delay this meeting with my sister, my aunt, Bennett, and the lawyers. If I didn’t hear from Arlene before then, I’d have to trust my gut and push Aunt Belinda for details I sensed she was omitting.
An hour later when the house phone rang, I bolted to answer it. No name, but an unfamiliar number from a different area code. I couldn’t remember if this was the same number I’d dialed to reach Arlene, but reasoned that this had to be her returning my call.
“Hello?” Anticipation ratcheted my voice up a few notches.
“Oh. Hi.” A man’s voice. Hesitant. Confused. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to reach Bruce?”
“You’ve got the right number,” I said, trying to place him. “This is Grace.”
“Grace, of course,” he said with gusto. “I thought this was Bruce’s cell phone and didn’t expect a woman to answer.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t,” I said.
“They gave me three phone numbers and I must have confused myself. I’m guessing this is your landline, am I right?”
“Yep, this is our house phone. We’re dinosaurs for keeping one.” Still unable to determine who I was talking to, I asked, “Can I help you?”
“This is Jeremy. Jeremy King?” he said. “We met last night when I was there with Bruce and Scott to discuss plans for their wine shop and restaurant.”
“Of course,” I said as recollection flooded. “I didn’t recognize your voice.”
“No reason you should,” he said easily. “Turns out I’m unexpectedly free this afternoon and happy to drive out to Emberstowne. Are they there?”
“No,” I said, disappointed on my roommates’ behalf. “They left a little while ago and I don’t expect them back until late tonight.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” he said. “I was hoping to get that tour of the building they promised.”
“I know they’re going to be sorry they missed you,” I said. “They’re eager to get started on the project.” I thought quickly. “What about tomorrow? Will you still be around?”
“Unfortunately not. Tomorrow is my niece’s birthday party back at home in Piedmont Springs. Even though she’s only four and probably wouldn’t miss her old uncle amidst all the hoopla, my sister would never forgive me.” He chuckled. “Plus, I want to be there. She’s a real cutie, that one. Makes me laugh.”
“Well,” I said with a smile in my voice, “for our sake, I’m sorry you’re busy, but it sounds like you’re making the best choice.”
He made a thoughtful noise. “Let them know I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. It may be a month before I can get back out this way. At the earliest.”
I remembered what he’d said about being eager to make the trek for this project because an opportunity like this would be worth his time.
He must have read my mind because he added, “Any other time, I’d be back out here in a heartbeat, but I’m leaving Monday morning for a three-week stint in Guatemala.”
“Vacation?”
“More or less.” He chuckled again. “I’m part of a group of volunteers going out there to build houses for those in need.”
“That’s admirable,” I said.
“Thanks, but I actually get more out of it than the poor people do.” He hesitated a couple of seconds then said, “Hey, I know that your roommates may have to make a decision before I even have a chance to compete. Which bums me out. I could have been working on ideas and plans during my downtime on the trip. But that’s okay. I get it. Things sometimes just don’t work the way we hope they will.” He coughed lightly. “What about you? Is there any possibility that, when I get back next month, you’d be willing to hang out sometime?”
“Me?”
What a silly thing to say. Of course he meant me.
“Yeah.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Even if they choose another partner for this project, I’d like to—you know—grab coffee or something with you. If you’re interested, that is. I’m not trying to be pushy.”
“You’re not,” I assured him. And then I faltered on how to continue. This was unexpected. Part of me was still recovering from Joe’s bombshell revelation last night but another part of me—a whisper, actually—asked what was the harm? Maybe this man with the engaging smile and easygoing manner would be nice to get to know better.
“Sure, coffee sometime would be great,” I finally said. With a l
augh, I added, “And clearly, you have my number.”
“I do,” he said. “Thanks for the update. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”
“Good luck with your volunteer work. I hope you have fun.”
“I always do,” he said. “Thanks.”
I walked out of the kitchen thinking about missed opportunities. Not for me, but for my roommates. Although I knew nothing about Jeremy’s particular talents, I didn’t like the idea that he would be automatically knocked out of the running simply because Bruce and Scott hadn’t been here to take his phone call.
Bootsie curled into the room, rubbing the side of her face against the doorway corner. She stared up at me, uttered a plaintive cry, and then rubbed up against my legs. “I fed you an hour ago,” I said. “You can’t possibly be hungry already.”
The kitchen phone rang again. Jeremy, calling back.
“Hello,” I said again.
“Hey,” he said, sounding as tentative has he had when we’d hung up. “Since I’m around and your roommates aren’t available, is there any chance of us getting together tonight? For coffee? Or maybe even dinner?”
I glanced down at my rumpled pajama pants. I could only imagine what my hair looked like. And if I were being perfectly honest with myself, I wasn’t at all in the mood to be chatty and pleasant with a man I hardly knew. Plus, I still held out hope that my mom’s friend Arlene might call.
About to decline, I stopped myself and considered my roommates’ predicament. They’d appreciate it if Jeremy got the chance to see the building’s interior. Something otherwise impossible for a month.
“Tell you what,” I said as I ran a hand through my uncombed hair and tried to catch my reflection in the window. “How about, instead, I give you that tour of the Granite Building space so you can start coming up with ideas for renovation?”
My counteroffer seemed to take him aback. “Wow,” he said after a moment’s pause, “that would be great. But without Bruce and Scott—”
“I have a set of keys,” I said, opting not to volunteer why. “I’ll need an hour or so to get ready, though.”
“All right. Pick you up in an hour?”
I wasn’t about to relinquish my chance to escape if he turned out to be a bore, a boor, or a buffoon. “I’ll meet you there,” I said and named a time.
“Looking forward to it, Grace. I’ll bring my sketchpad and measuring equipment.”
“Is there anything I need to bring?”
“Nope. Just yourself. See you then.”
I jumped into the shower and zipped through my regular process of getting ready. I spent far less time choosing an outfit than I normally would. Even as I pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a top, I examined my reason for this departure from the norm. I usually spent a ridiculous level of effort picking out an ensemble to send the right message. Today, however, I opted for unimpressive. That was the message I wanted to convey. Tight on the heels of that observation, I realized why.
Joe.
My heart told me that he had been truthful when he’d told me the tale of his marriage and the fury of his wife. I could be wrong about him. I knew that possibility existed. But wasn’t this what taking a leap of faith was all about? The choice was clear and it had less to do with finding proof than it did with trusting my instincts.
I glanced at the clock. No time to call him right now. Not even enough time for a quick e-mail. If I thought wardrobe choices were difficult, I knew word choices were agonizingly worse.
I promised myself to make it an early evening and to call Joe the minute I got home. I wished I could simply stay home right now.
I frowned at the mirror. I was not interested in Jeremy. Not romantically, at least. But meeting him at the building was the right thing to do for my friends. I did have time to send a quick text to Bruce and Scott, letting them know about this impromptu tour. I ended with: Leaving in 5. Join us if you can.
Chapter 28
“Oscar,” I said. “You’re looking great. How are you feeling?”
I’d gotten to the Granite Building before Jeremy and let myself in. Oscar, wearing jeans, shoes, and a rumpled polo shirt, had hurried to the front door to see who’d arrived. Dressed up, with one arm in a sling, and with his hair trimmed and beard gone, he looked more like a middle-aged dad on vacation than a homeless squatter. The transformation was astounding. His skin was pink and healthy looking. He smiled, and although his teeth weren’t in great shape, he at least still had some of them.
“I’m doing pretty well, considering,” he said as he lifted the casted arm. “Happy to be out of the hospital and able to come home.”
Referring to the giant warehouse as home caught my heart.
“We’re glad you’re back.” He seemed a lot healthier than I remembered. The hospital stay obviously did him a lot of good. With a little bit more effort, no one would ever realize that he’d once been homeless.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I explained about Jeremy coming to tour the building and my roommates’ absence.
“You probably want me to stay out of the way, don’t you?” Oscar asked.
“Not at all,” I said. In fact, I’d been counting on his presence to keep the meeting from any potential awkwardness. “Bruce and Scott already told Jeremy about you and he’s in full support of your living on-site as much as possible during the renovation.”
I glanced at my phone.
“I’d better get out front,” I said. “He should be here soon.”
“I’ll head downstairs. Got a few things to prepare down there.”
Twenty minutes later, when Jeremy hadn’t yet appeared, I decided to give up and return home. Truth was, I was glad. I’d done all I could to help my friends, yet through no fault of my own, it hadn’t worked out. I was free to head back and call Joe.
“Not here yet?”
I jumped. Behind me, Oscar loomed, standing a little too close for comfort. “Am I in your way?” I asked, shifting position to allow him out the door.
“Nope.” He gave a self-satisfied smirk. “Believe me, after all the time I spent holed up in this place, I know every creak and footstep. Came up to check on you. Been too quiet for too long.”
“It looks like I’ve been stood up,” I said. “I guess I’ll head home now.”
“Before you go,” he said, jerking his thumb to indicate the former lobby behind him, “you think you can give me a hand moving something?”
All of a sudden it dawned on me that, without the contractor’s presence, I was completely alone here with Oscar. In any other circumstance that might not bother me, but in his cleaned-up state, his appearance—though hardly definitive—was not terribly dissimilar than that of Craig. At least as had been described to me by both Cynthia the inspector and Patsy at the bank. He looked . . . average.
And although Oscar claimed to have spied on Craig a number of times, he’d never provided us an accurate description, claiming poor vision.
“I think it’s best if I take off now,” I said.
“Oh.” His disappointment sounded sincere. “The microwave the guys got me would be great, except it got moved by the fumigators and now it’s nowhere near an outlet.” He made a face. “That’s okay. Cold food is better than no food, right?”
My suspicions were getting the best of me. How ridiculous to imagine that Oscar could have faked his injuries or spun the story of being attacked to shift the focus away from him.
Stranger things had happened, though. To me. To people I cared about.
I was about to decline again, politely, when I heard my name. Still in the doorway, I turned around to see Jeremy jogging across the street to meet me. I breathed a sigh of relief. He waved hello.
“Sorry.” He was out of breath when he reached us. “Got tied up.” He glanced at Oscar, then shot me a quizzical look.
The contractor shifted his messenger bag to his left hand and extended his right hand to shake. Confused, Oscar squinted at the proffered hand before extending his own in return.
Oscar frowned. “I’m hungry,” he said. “I’m going back downstairs now.” He pivoted and left.
As soon as he was gone, Jeremy said, “That’s the one who’ll live on-site during construction, isn’t it?” When I nodded, he said, “He looks pretty good for a homeless guy. Not too talkative, though.”
“Sorry,” I said. “He’s been on his own so long, I don’t think he’s good with social niceties.”
“No worries,” Jeremy said with a wave of his hand. “My reason for being here today isn’t to see him anyway.” He offered a tentative grin.
Ooh. This could get awkward quickly. Despite my quick and altogether baseless fear that Oscar would turn out to be the murderous Craig, I was glad to have our homeless friend here after all.
“Right.” I shot back a high-wattage no-idea-what-you-meant-by-that smile. “You’re here to see the building. Let’s get to it.”
We started on the main level as I took him through the dated central reception area into the high-ceilinged warehouse in back. “I love how those high beams give this place such an airy feel,” I said, pointing up. “The boys talked about replacing the old skylights and maybe adding a few more. What do you think?”
He shifted his messenger bag again, then zipped it open and pulled out a pen and paper. “Let me jot down a few notes while we walk. I’d like to see the whole space to get a sense of it before I make any suggestions.”
“Fair enough.” I decided to let him wander about without further commentary from me. As we made our way to the far end, he asked, “Is there another level?”
The boys had piled cases of wine along the low wall, serving to obscure the stairway where we’d found Virginia’s lifeless body. “There’s a basement,” I said. “One set of stairs are to the left behind those boxes.”