“I’m your boss?” She could deal with this surface connection much easier and was happy not to delve into his misplaced guilt.
“For this afternoon.”
She rubbed her hands together and gave a maniacal laugh. “You’re in for it now.”
He helped her carry the rocker to the nursery, along with a floor lamp. Then after vacuuming and moving other furniture around, he helped create an office nook in one corner of the living room. It wasn’t perfect, but it would suffice until Clara moved in with her forever family, whoever that might be.
They dusted and vacuumed and washed windows, and in short order the living room was ready for life.
Jon put on his jacket over his no-longer-white shirt. “Want to go out for ice cream? I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“I’d love to, but . . . ” She glanced at the clock hung on the kitchen wall. “I don’t know when Zax will be bringing home Mik or when Clara will get home. I have to stay here.”
“Then I’ll go get some. Still like chocolate with cookie dough?”
“Oh.” She moaned and patted her chest. “You know the way to a woman’s heart.”
“I try.” He grinned and took off.
And she collapsed on the couch. Today had been a good, productive day, thanks to Jon. And in spite of the weird vibe he gave off earlier. Why he’d disappeared from her life, then reappeared didn’t matter as long as she got her work done today. Now she was ready to hang her shingle, so to speak.
But only after she sat and relaxed for a moment.
Surprising joy—yes, she definitely felt joy and peace as she plopped down on the couch, and for that she needed to give thanks. She splayed her hands, palms up, and began her heartfelt prayer with a simple, “Thank You, Jesus . . . ”
* * *
A BMW sat in Erin’s driveway as Jon drove up to her house with several pints of ice cream, all different flavors. He’d assumed he and Erin wouldn’t be alone, though he’d hoped.
He carried the treats up the steps to her tiny rambler and rang the doorbell. He heard laughter inside before Erin opened the door. Smiling.
He’d forgotten how pretty she was when she smiled because it was so rare. She tended to shove down feelings while she pushed through life as if not daring to enjoy what was going on around her. Not that she didn’t have an excuse.
“Do you plan to stand there gawking with your ice cream, or would you like to share?”
He shook his head, dispersing his thoughts, and carried the bag filled with ice cream inside. The Caldwells sat in the living room, Charles in the recliner and Belinda kneeling on the floor picking up toys, looking like she was completely invested in her granddaughter’s life. His gut told him otherwise.
Still he smiled at Erin’s guests and held up the ice cream? “Kitchen?”
“Be my guest.” Erin followed him in and pulled bowls from the cupboard. The same dishware she and Corey had purchased from a secondhand store when they’d first married. The spoons she took out had been purchased at the same place, same time. And here Corey had been living a life of luxury. Made Jon want to ream out his friend one more time. How he had been so careless with other’s lives, Jon would never understand.
And now, the Caldwells were here, and he sensed more destruction on the way.
“You keep disappearing.” Erin waved a hand in front of his face.
“Oh. Sorry.” He scooped mint chocolate chip ice cream into a bowl. “These brought back memories.”
She smiled again as she examined the scratched-up spoon’s surface with the tip of her finger. “Good memories. These weren’t new, but we purchased them together. We treated it like it was fine china, and we were royalty. We were happy.” Her smile faded. “Then.”
Oh, man. He wanted to wrap her in a hug and tell her she could be happy again, but she’d quickly reject the hug. Not knowing what to say, he picked up the bowls of ice cream and brought them to the living room for her guests. Zax and Mik, no surprise, hadn’t shown up yet. No sign of Clara. She must be taking a nap.
“Anyone for mint chocolate chip?” He held up the bowl.
Mrs. Caldwell got up off the floor and stretched out her hand. “Nothing would be better right now.”
“What else have you got there, son?” Mr. Caldwell sat up in the tattered recliner, a piece of furniture Corey had refused to take with him because it was too used. He angled his neck toward the bowls remaining in Jon’s hands.
“I have one cherry cheesecake and one butter pecan.” Mik’s favorite. “I have cookie dough in the kitchen.”
“Uh, no you don’t.” Erin came out of the kitchen eating directly out of the cookie dough ice cream container. “This is all mine.”
The couple laughed, but he could tell it was strained. He couldn’t imagine how tough a day this had been for them. He’d never been a father, but still knew that losing a child would be the worst kind of hurt. Perhaps his thoughts had been too rough on the couple.
“I guess I’ll take the cherry cheesecake.” Mr. Caldwell held out his hand. “Our Lilith loved cherries, so it’s very appropriate.”
Jon gave him the bowl and offered his condolences once again. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Much appreciated, son.” The man patted Jon’s hand. “But at least we have Clara. She’s a carbon copy of Lilith at that age.”
Jon froze at the man’s words. Was he insinuating that they’d changed their mind, again, about contesting the will?
“And we’re grateful that Erin has been kind enough to allow us babysitting opportunities.” Mrs. Caldwell reached across the couch and patted Erin’s arm. No surprise, Erin flinched at the touch.
Babysitting. Okay. That he could deal with. He pulled a chair from the kitchen and sat across from the couch.
“We’ve cancelled our vacation, as well.” Mr. Caldwell shook his head. “We just can’t imagine trying to enjoy ourselves while our hearts have been shattered.”
“And they’ve offered to watch Clara on Monday for me.” Erin dug her spoon into the pint. “So, I can be ‘professional’ at my appointment.” She made the quotation marks with her fingers.
“That’s great.” He smiled. The Caldwells would likely see through it, but Erin, probably not. He hoped. This couple was saying and doing all the right things, but in the past year, Corey had confessed to him that Lilith didn’t fall far from the family tree. She’d learned manipulation well from them.
Jon would not allow Erin to be manipulated too. With her lack of skill in reading people, she would be a far too compliant target.
Chapter Fifteen
The Caldwells arrived an hour before Erin had to leave for her appointment with Lurch, er, Lawrence Portsmouth. She was so grateful for that as Clara was being fussy once again. Thankfully, Mik was back in school, so there wasn’t whining in stereo today. Suffering through it this past weekend had been tough enough, and she’d been tempted to add a different type of wine to her day.
But now, she was getting away from the noise, and Clara did love her grandparents. Why Corey and that woman didn’t want her parents to be legal guardians made no sense. She found them very down to earth and loving. How they’d parented a witch like . . . that woman, she’d never know.
With Clara occupied, Erin dressed in the same suit from last week. The only good interviewing suit she owned. Even while working for the Beldens, the dress code had been more casual. Erin wanted to step it up a notch, maybe bring in a higher bracket of businesses. Attorneys were definitely in a higher bracket than the machine shop owners the Beldens typically worked with.
After dressing, she pulled her hair back in a bun and sprayed it with a stiff hairspray. Hopefully, it looked business enough. She touched up her make-up, keeping it light, then put on low-heeled grey pumps.
She studied herself in the mirror hung on her closet door. No wrinkles. On her clothes or her face. No random dirty spots. No hair trying to escape the bun, although by the time she arrived at her appointment, th
at would probably change.
Satisfied, she went to the living room where Clara played on the floor with her grandparents. Belinda Caldwell looked up at her and smiled. “You look fabulous dear, ready to change the world.”
“I don’t really need to change the world, just my own little corner.”
“You never know how changing that one corner will affect everyone else.” Belinda nodded and directed her attention back to Clara.
“Well, wish me luck.” Keys in her hand, Erin aimed for the side door.
“Auntie Erin, me, hug!” Clara jumped up, raced to Erin, and hugged her knees.
Erin’s heart pinged. Nope. She wasn’t going to fall for this child. No way. She patted the child’s hair while saying a silent prayer that her skirt remained clean. “Thank you for the hug, Lolli. You have a fun day with Gramama and Grandpops.”
“I wuv them.”
“And they love you, too.” Which was why they could be Clara’s guardians, if she couldn’t find Jon’s mystery woman. They were youngish, probably early fifties. Their daughter had only been twenty-five. The problem was getting Jon to see that they would be good for Clara. He seemed to have a chip on his shoulder where they were concerned. She’d been searching for a reason to affirm that chip but hadn’t found it. Truthfully, she liked the couple. And today, they were her saving grace.
Erin headed out the door with her proposal while double checking that her skirt didn’t have Clara fingerprints all over the bottom. Thankfully, it remained clean, not a guarantee with that child who loved finger painting with whatever she could get her hands on.
She got in her car, and her whole body seemed to relax. Caring for a young child was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job she didn’t have time or energy for. So even getting away for paying work seemed like a vacation.
The forty-minute drive to Lawrence Portsmouth’s office was uneventful, just what she needed. She’d rehearsed her spiel while trying to erase the image of Lurch from her brain, and failed.
Her GPS led her down a street filled with beautiful historic homes but had her stop by a house that could easily have been owned by The Addams Family, with its peeling paint and sagging balcony on the side of the building. Just looking at it gave her the shimmies. This couldn’t be the right place, could it?
A newly-laid sidewalk led to a side door that had writing on the window. She got out of her car to read it: Law Office of Lawrence Portsmouth. So, this was the place. Yay . . .
Well, she was an adult, she could certainly handle entering a spooky law office and facing creepy lawyer.
Proposal in hand, she strode up the sidewalk and climbed the steps to the heavy wood door. She tugged it open and blinked to adjust her eyes to the dark interior.
“Good afternoon,” a male voice in front of her spoke and she blinked him into view, her gaze climbing upward. All six foot seven of him, if not taller. The man offered a skeletal hand. “I apologize for the dismal lighting. My electricians are working on it. If I’d known the troubles this old house would bring me, I never would have made the purchase. But someday it will be grand, and I’ll be the envy of Little Falls.”
Her vision adjusted, she glanced around the room, taking in beautiful hardwood floors, trim, doors. Yes, it could be grand someday. A desk as ancient as the house sat in the middle of the lobby. It was filled with office-looking equipment, but no one sat behind it.
“Erin Belden, I presume?” He gestured to a door off the lobby.
“I am.” She walked alongside him. “And you must be Lur . . . I mean Lawrence.” If she could’ve melted into the floor, she would have. She may as well just head home right now.
But booming laughter came from the giant beside her. “Ah, I see Jon Boy has been enlightening you of my colleagues’ nickname for me. It serves me well in court.” He pushed open a heavy door, revealing a well-lit conference room that seemed out of place in this old building. Everything appeared to be new. The table, chairs, artwork. Although the table looked to be higher than normal.
He gestured to a chair with longer-than-average legs, and he sat across from her, on a lower seat, bringing his face in direct line with hers. Huh. Maybe to not be as intimidating? It definitely worked. Behind him on the wall was a plaque with the headline, “A Lawyer’s Prayer” by St. Thomas More. It should help her relax, but she’d let her guard down with attorney Vanessa Martin, and look how that turned out.
“Now, Ms. Belden.” He folded his spindly fingers together and leaned toward her. “Why should I take my business from my established accountant and give it to you?”
This is what you came for, Erin. You can do it. She sat up as tall as she could. Didn’t smile, but didn’t frown either, and handed her proposal across the table. She spoke of her education and experience and pointed out her references. Then flattered him—hopefully—with his positive online reviews and closed with her selling point.
“I plan to keep my clientele list small so that I’m able to provide you with personal and immediate attention. You won’t have to go through a secretary to reach me, and I promise to return calls within twenty-four hours. As my references point out, I’m quick and I’m accurate.”
“Hmmm.” Was all he said as he drummed his fingers together. “You make some very big promises.”
“I do. And I know how important it is to keep promises.”
“Ah, yes.” He leaned toward her as if interrogating her. “But sometimes life intervenes.”
She squirmed then forced herself to sit still. “Yes, it does. And should something come up, Belden Accounting has promised to back me up.”
“Hmm.”
Would he stop saying that, please?
“As you observed from my vacant lobby, my assistant wasn’t there. Her toddler came down with the flu, and I encouraged her to stay home. As a prosecutor, I too often see the results of broken families, fatherless families, and I’ve come to the conclusion that no business is worth sacrificing family over. With me, family always takes precedence. Do you agree, Ms. Belden?”
She raised her chin and looked him square in the eye. This guy should be a counselor. Guys wouldn’t dare cheat on their spouses if they had him to report to. “Family should always come first, which is why I’m opening a business at home. This way I can spend more time with my teenager.”
“A very vulnerable time.” He reclined back and spread his hand on her proposal. “Your credentials are . . . adequate.”
Adequate? True, she didn’t have the years of experience others had, so she didn’t respond. Rather, she waited for him to add to his statement.
“But I appreciate your attentiveness to your family. If more parents cared as you do, I’d be out of a job.”
She blinked, trying to figure out if that was a “Yes, I want to hire you,” or just a random statement.
“So, I would be pleased to transfer my business to you.” He stretched his arm across the table.
A smile snuck out as she gripped his hand. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
“I don’t expect you will.” He sat back and smiled, and suddenly he wasn’t so menacing. If she had to face him in court, though, that would be another story. “Truthfully, you called at the right time. My accountant will be retiring, so I was about to begin the search. You made my search very easy.”
He gestured toward the door.
Guess they were finished. She got up and walked from the building, Lawrence at her side until she got into her car.
She waited until he was back inside his office before she did a little victory dance. Finally, something went right for her! If only she had someone to celebrate with. More importantly, time to celebrate with someone. The Caldwells would be expecting her home soon, or she’d stop by Debbie’s on the way home and share a pint of ice cream. Yeah, she’d just had some the other day with Jon, but you can’t have too much ice cream, right?
Cravings for ice cream meant one thing: she was feeling something. Debbie would remind her to identify that feeling.
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Happy.
Yeah, she felt happy, like when she and Debbie were driving up to the cabin. Had that really only been a week and a half ago? It seemed like forever.
Maybe after the girls went to sleep tonight, she’d celebrate with that pint anyway. She deserved it. She drove toward home, singing along with the radio. Once back in Brainerd, she stopped at the local grocer to pick up a few pints of ice cream then hurried home.
She turned onto her street, and her happiness fled. The garage door was wide open. Her heartbeat ramped up speed as she neared her home, and it nearly burst from her chest when she saw why the door was open.
In these few hours she’d been gone, her single-car garage had been turned into an art studio. Two easels sat in the middle of the garage, and paint-splattered sheets draped the walls. Clara and her grandma stood at the easels, painting, while Charles Caldwell sat on a lawn chair, reading a book. No one seemed to notice her. Tension tingled down her arms, to her fingers, and she clenched her fingernails into her palms.
What gave them the right to take over her garage?
She got out of her car, slammed the door, and ran to the house, not caring if anyone noticed her or not. She hurried to the bathroom, shut the door and locked it, then collapsed onto the floor, hugging her knees tight to her chest. It had been a year since she’d had a panic attack like this. Why now?
She tugged her phone from her front pocket and dialed Debbie’s number. She was the only one who could talk her through this.
__________
Erin
April 15, 2019
Oh, God,
I’m sorry I imploded today. And thank you for Debbie’s friendship. I’m so grateful for someone who’s able to piece me back together.
I know you saw me as I sat on the floor of the bathroom, not wanting to face the world ever again. Then Debbie came and listened as all my frustrations from the past week boiled out.
I’ll ask you the same thing I asked her: why? Why now? The Caldwells and Clara weren’t doing anything wrong this afternoon. They just put up sheets in the garage—my dirty garage—and painted. It was completely innocent.
A Beautiful Mess Page 13