Trouble In Bloom Page 10

  "It's all right," I said. "But how'd you know I was working here?"

  "Word gets around." He winked.

  Now I knew where Bobby had gotten it from. "It shouldn't," I said. "That's the whole idea of the surprise."

  He leaned in, whispered, "Your mother is quite proud of your work."

  I rolled my eyes. She was a blabbermouth, that's what she was.

  Mac had completely charmed Pippi. Pink tinged her cheeks, and she smiled brightly. I wondered if I should tell her about his penchant for touching.

  Probably she'd learn soon enough.

  "Pippi, Bobby is my, ahem, boyfriend. My partner on Hitched or Ditched."

  "Oh! How exciting!" Pippi looked around. "Where's your camera crew?"

  "In the car. They didn't think anything exciting would happen in here," Bobby said.

  I caught Roxie and Nels high-fiving. This would certainly be a coup for them.

  "You're thinking about moving in here?" I asked Mac. I leaned in to Bobby. "Can he afford that?"

  Bobby shrugged.

  "Well, we should leave you to your tour, then."

  I looked at Roxie, who was looking at Bobby and me expectantly.

  Standing on tiptoes, I kissed Bobby's lips. He pulled me in close, anchored me against his chest and planted a kiss on me that curled my toes.

  Whoa.

  "Gets it from me," Mac boasted, shaking his cane.

  Pippi fanned herself.

  I needed a cool-down myself.

  "I'll see you tonight," Bobby said with a wink.

  Ohhh, that wink. It did things to me.

  "O-Okay." I tried to walk, but my legs were still Jell-O.

  Outside, I drew in fresh air, wished I had something chocolate to eat. One of those peanut M&Ms. Something.

  I'd started the truck when Nels said, "Anyone else get a strange vibe in there?"

  "Vibe?" I asked.

  "Like something hinky is going on?"

  "Yeah," Roxie said. "It's like the Stepford Inn."

  "Exactly." Nels cleaned the camera lens. "Why's everyone so happy? Didn't someone just die?"

  "Even still." I put the truck into Drive. "Wouldn't you be happy if you lived there?"

  "What if Pippi Longstocking is giving everyone happy pills? Taking all their money?"

  "Little Pippi?" I asked, shocked.

  Roxie slumped back. "I guess you're right. She was too sweet to do anything evil."

  "Hah!" Nels said. "I bet the east wing really leads to a secret laboratory . . . "

  Roxie perked up. "There's one way to find out."

  "No!" I said. "No snooping tomorrow. Lowther House is high class. Think old money country club. There's no secret labs, no happy pills being doled out. It's just a nice place to grow old."

  "And die," Nels said.

  Nels was really starting to get on my nerves.

  "Yeah," Roxie perked up, "do we really know what happened to that poor old Mrs. Goldwin?"

  "You two, stop." I turned onto 63. "There will be no snooping. Not so much as a voiced suspicion. It's my company and my reputation at stake if you two upset Pippi. I'm liable for you two. So behave yourselves tomorrow."

  They both agreed, but I didn't believe them for a second.

  Ten

  I skipped out of work early and let everyone else go home too, since everything was set for the mini at Lowther House the following day. Our schedules were often topsy-turvy, so we had to take time off when we could.

  I headed home hoping to catch up with my mother. Any other day she would have been at my house, overseeing the construction. With the picketers, I doubted any construction was going on today.

  Flipping on the radio, I realized the old me would have been angry with her. Okay, so I wasn't thrilled construction had been delayed . . . again. But the new me was easygoing, care-free. Zenlike.

  Note to self: Look up Zen ASAP.

  "Do You Wanna Dance" played on the oldies station, and I sang along until I realized I always listened to the oldies station.

  Impulsively, I turned the dial. The car thumped with the bass of a rap song. I listened for a minute before changing it. The new me could only handle so much. I stopped on a pop station. Someone was singing about the pain of breaking up. It hit a little too close to home. Another spin of the dial and I landed on the local country station. I stopped, listened. A man was singing about tequila and how it made "her" clothes fall off.

  This had potential.

  I liked tequila.

  Could use some, as a matter of fact.

  Wouldn't mind my clothes falling off with Bobby around.

  No, no, no! Wrong.

  Still, tequila sounded good. The old Nina would never drink at three-thirty in the afternoon, but the new me? Why not?

  As I drove along, I thought about Deanna. Should I call her? I hated leaving things as they were. I just wished she'd given me the chance to explain about Weekend Warrior. But that wouldn't have changed the fact that she'd already set up another interview . . .

  I sighed.

  My thoughts switched over to Hitched or Ditched. I hadn't seen last night's show and didn't know if I wanted to. Probably, I did. I know Riley had taped it for me—maybe I'd watch it when I got home. Alone. With my tequila.

  Sounded like a plan.

  If I turned into a lush, it would be all Josh's fault. Him and his crazy plan. From what I'd seen so far, sexual harassment wasn't all that far-fetched an accusation. Not that anyone had hit on me, but there was enough hanky-panky going around.

  Had I just said hanky-panky?

  Note to self: Stop watching reruns of the Newlywed Game on the Game Show Network.

  I hadn't seen even the barest hint of impropriety from Willie toward his staff. Now, with Sherry—that was a whole other deal. One I shouldn't worry myself about.

  Who they slept around with was their issue. Not mine.

  Mine was finding out about the sexual harassment.

  I held the wheel with one hand, flipped open my phone

  and dialed Josh's number with the other. It rang twice before switching to voice mail.

  "Josh, it's Nina. I just wanted to talk to you about Jessica. If you could give me a call, I'd appreciate it."

  Snapping the phone closed, I wondered when I'd hear from him.

  I left the radio dial on the country station and felt my eyebrows dip as I turned onto my street. Cars lined both sides, and I had to park four houses down, in front of Mr. Weatherbee's place. I'm sure I'd hear about that later. He hated anyone parking in front of his house, despite the street being public property.

  Walking back toward my place, I stopped short next to the maple tree at the edge of my property, trying to take it all in.

  The Dave Matthews Band blasted from speakers set up on my front porch. A buffet table had been set out on my front lawn. The two picketers had their signs propped on their shoulders. They each held plates loaded to their plastic edges. Several other men wearing hard hats, jeans, and thermal long-sleeve T-shirts standing on the other side of the table joked, laughed, and chowed down. All around, residents of the Mill joined in, laughing, eating. I spotted Mrs. Daasch doing the cha-cha with the foreman of the construction crew.

  It was an all-out block party.

  At my house.

  Screw Zen.

  I was gonna kill my mother.

  My backpack thumped my shoulder blades as I stomped along the sidewalk. I slowed when I saw a familiar car pull into the driveway across the street. It parked behind a dark sedan I hadn't noticed before.

  The door to the sedan opened, and I recognized Jennie Nix, the Realtor selling the house. She greeted Brickhouse

  Krauss as she stepped out of her brand new Camry hybrid.

  Oh. My. God.

  Was Brickhouse looking at the house? To buy it?

  No, not poss—

  They went inside.

  Brickhouse Krauss. Living across the street from me.

  Panic flared. Even though w
e'd been getting on okay, I didn't want to be living within a hundred feet of her.

  Deep breath. In, out.

  Zen.

  Breathe.

  I unclenched my hands just in time to be wrapped from behind in an intimate dance hold. His heart beat steadily against my spine. His strong arms held me firmly. By the way my stomach flopped around behind my belly button, I knew who it was; I didn't have to look at his face.

  "Sigh, he'd be hot and steamy," Kevin singsonged, mocking my answer from the show the night before.

  I jabbed him in his diaphragm with my elbow, then spun around as he bent double, gasping for breath.

  Hitching my backpack onto my shoulder, I looked at him, feeling no remorse.

  Okay, some remorse, but I didn't dwell. That was something the old me would have done.

  "Serves you right for mocking me," I said.

  Slowly, he stood upright. Though he had to still be hurting, a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It was worth it, holding you like that. You look great, by the way. Stunning."

  I rolled my eyes. "What're you doing here, anyway?"

  "Riley. We're doing a movie and dinner."

  "Then do."

  "He's getting ready."

  "I'll spur him on." I headed toward the house, only to be stopped by my neighbor diagonally across the street, Flash Leonard.

  "Hey cutie!" The neighborhood's geriatric playboy twirled me.

  I broke into a smile, settled my right hand into his left and put my other arm around his back. Flash didn't move too fast these days, so I figured a little less spinning would probably be best.

  Over his shoulder I spotted Kevin. He looked jealous. I smiled wider, feeling better.

  "My sister is in town," Flash said. "Let me introduce you."

  We tangoed across the lawn, over to a lovely woman speaking with the Molari brothers.

  "Nina, this is my little sister, Sue Evans. She'll be staying with me until Christmas."

  "It's a pleasure, Mrs. Evans." I shook her hand.

  "Please call me Sue. Or Miss Sue, if you're one of those respectful types."

  She had lovely hazel eyes, heavy on the green, that shone through her purple-rimmed glasses. Wavy white hair streaked with silver set off her beautiful complexion.

  A little fluffy dog sat at her feet.

  "That's Bear," she said, following my gaze.

  "What breed?"

  "Yorkie-poo. Part Yorkshire, part poodle."

  "He's adorable." I scratched his ears, and he fl opped over onto his back hoping I'd rub his belly.

  He could keep on hoping.

  "Great party, isn't it?" Flash said.

  "It is."

  "That mother of yours is one special mama."

  I looked around at the construction workers mingling with the picketers mingling with my neighbors, all smiles and laughter. "Yeah, I guess she is."

  "I love the hair, by the way. Very snazzy. Always did have a thing for blondes." He winked and twirled me again.

  As I spun I caught sight of my mother on the front porch. She was smiling and tapping her foot. Her gaze met mine. She squinted, then her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

  Right. The makeover.

  She started down the steps toward me, then she must have remembered she was avoiding me. Like a startled deer, she froze, then turned and scurried into the house, slamming the door behind her.

  "Miss Sue, it was nice to meet you! Flash, save me another dance! Gotta go!" I dashed after my mother.

  The front door was locked. She must have forgotten I lived there. I stuck my key in the lock, let myself in.

  "Mom!"

  "No mama aqui," a squeaky muffled voice said.

  I walked over to the hall closet, pulled open the door.

  My mother waltzed out, fl uffing her hair. "Hi chérie! Let me look at you. The hair! Divine. Oh lordy, lordy, is that a manicure?" she squealed. "Have I died and gone to heaven? I must tell Maria. I'll just grab my bag and go."

  She was fast. She almost made it to the door before I said, "Stop right there!"

  She stopped. Mid-stride. And slowly turned, giving me a little shrug. "It wasn't right that everyone was out there, just waiting. Hungry. I had to do something."

  I held up a hand. "It's okay."

  "It is?"

  "It is."

  Before I forgot, I said, "You need to call Tam. She doesn't want a baby shower—"

  She held up her hand. "Already taken care of. I spoke to Tamara earlier. She also agrees that you look fabulous, but couldn't call, something about the cameras and hackers. I'm sure there's a story there, but I couldn't get it out of her. Anyhow, we've come up with something else."

  I tossed my backpack on the couch. "Something else?"

  "Pah, don't worry. It's all taken care of."

  For some reason, I was suddenly worried.

  "Now tell me all about this," she said, motioning to me with grand sweeps of her arm. "You look just gorgeous, Nina. Gorgeous."

  "Thanks."

  "Tell all."

  "You've already heard it all from Ana."

  "Secondhand hearsay. I want all the details."

  "It's a long story," I said, heading into the kitchen.

  "I have time. Where are you going?" she asked.

  "To get some glasses—and tequila."

  "Ooh! I'll get the limes."

  After downing one shot of tequila (my limit), I felt much better.

  "Have you heard anything about Mrs. Krauss moving in across the street?"

  My mother poured her shot glass to the rim, her third. She held up the bottle, an offer to me. I shook my head. I was driving later.

  "She might have mentioned something."

  I looked out the kitchen window, over the heads of the revelers. A split story, the house across the street had been vacant for nearly two months, but only on the market for two weeks. It was overpriced, in my opinion, but since the housing market had skyrocketed in this area, even the older homes felt the boom.

  I hoped and hoped Brickhouse Krauss couldn't afford the place. How much could a Catholic school teacher's pension be anyway?

  I noticed one of the picketers, a chubby fellow with a grainy salt and pepper beard, buzz cut, and big, wide eyes glance over his shoulder toward the house. "Buzz" looked guarded, as if he was hiding something. Hard to hide something with a giant picket sign reading REALITY TV IS IMORAL written on it. And harder to be taken seriously with immoral spelled wrong.

  What was he up to, that Buzz?

  Footsteps pounded the stairs. Riley rarely did anything gracefully. Or quietly. Things were always being slammed around. "I'm leaving," he called out.

  Before I could get a "'Bye" out of my mouth, the front door opened and then slammed shut.

  My mother hadn't seemed to notice. "We've got to take you shopping," she declared. She licked salt off the top of her hand, then downed the tequila. "Your wardrobe has got to go." She snapped her fingers. "A bonfire! With marshmallows!"

  "We are not burning my clothes."

  "Pah. Fine. But we still must shop. My treat!"

  "Sorry, I already have plans to shop with a friend."

  "Wshtyrmma?"

  Amused, I glanced at her. "The lime, Mom. The lime."

  She took it out of her mouth, dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Without your mama?"

  "Sorry. First come, first served."

  She pouted. Then brightened.

  Oh no.

  "Handbag shopping, then! I've been waiting for years to get rid of that suitcase you carry around!"

  "It's a leather backpack, not a suitcase."

  "It has to go! It doesn't match the new you, chérie." She giggled.

  The new me. People were noticing. That had to be a good thing. Or so I told myself. "Maybe we should put the tequila away."

  She slapped my hand as I reached for the bottle.

  "Then let me call Dad to come pick you up."