Chapter Eight
The day was not going well.
She wasn’t able to get the scheduled family meeting off her mind. No other paperwork on the necklace had shown up, though they had gone through reams and reams of receipts and old ledgers. She knew, because of Amanda’s refusal to talk, that the news wasn’t good.
Added to that had been another restless night. She heard Fred’s whimpering and had gone to check on him only to hear Trent’s low murmuring soothing the puppy behind his bedroom door.
She’d stood there for a long time, listening.
The fact that he’d taken the stray into his room, cared enough to comfort and nurture only made C.C. love him more. And the more she loved, the more she hurt.
She knew she was hollow-eyed this morning, because she’d made the mistake of looking at a mirror. That she could handle. Her looks had never been a major concern. The bills she had found in the morning mail were.
She’d been telling the truth when she’d told Suzanna the business was doing well.
But there were still rough spots. Not all of her customers paid promptly, and her cash flow was too often merely a trickle.
Six months, she thought as she cut through the old metal.
She only needed six months. But that was too long, much too long to help keep The Towers.
Her life was changing, changing fast, and none of it seemed to be for the better.
Trent stood watching her. She had some battered hulk of a car up on the lift and stood under it, wielding a torch.
While he watched, she shifted aside as a pipe clattered to the floor.
She was wearing coveralls again, thick safety gloves and a helmet.
The music she never seemed to be without jingled from the radio on the workbench.
Surely a man was over the edge when he thought how delightful it would be to make love on a concrete floor with a woman who was dressed like a welder.
C.C. changed positions, then saw him. Very carefully she shut off the torch before she lifted the shield of her helmet.
“I couldn’t find anything wrong with your car. Keys are in the office. No charge.” She flipped down the shield again.
“C.C.”
“What?”
“How about dinner?”
She pushed back the shield and eyed him warily. “How about it?”
“I mean...” With a leery glance overhead, he stepped under the car with her. “I’d like you to have dinner with me tonight.”
She shifted her weight. “I’ve had dinner with you every night for several nights.” She flipped the shield down. Trent flipped it up again.
“No, I mean I want to take you out to dinner.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
She lifted a brow. “Well, that’s very nice, but I’m a little pressed tonight. We’re having a family meeting.” She pulled down the shield again and prepared to relight the torch.
“Tomorrow then.” Annoyed, Trent pushed the shield back up. “Do you mind? I like to see you when I talk to you.”
“Yes, I mind because I’ve got work. And no, I won’t have dinner with you tomorrow.”
“Why?”
She blew out a long breath that ruffled her bangs. “Because I don’t want to.”
“You’re still angry with me.”
Her eyes, which had begun to heat, went flat. “We settled all that, so there’s no reason to go out on a date.”
“Just dinner,” he said, finding he couldn’t let go. “No one’s calling it a date. One simple meal, as friends, before I go back to Boston.”
“You’re going back?” She felt her heart drop to her knees and turned away to rattle through some tools.
“Yes, I have meetings scheduled for the middle of the week. I’m expected in the office Wednesday afternoon.”
Just like that, she thought as she picked up a pipe wrench and set it down again. I’ve got meetings scheduled, see you later. Sorry I broke your heart. “Well, then, have a nice trip.”
“C.C.” He laid a hand on her arm before she could hide behind the shield again. “I’d like to spend a little time with you. I’d feel a lot better about everything if I was sure we parted on good terms.”
“You want to feel better about things,” she muttered, then made herself relax her jaw. “Sure, why not? Dinner tomorrow night is fine. You deserve a send-off.”
“I appreciate it. Really.” He touched her cheek, started to lean toward her. C.C. pulled the shield down with a snap.
“Better stand back from the torch, Trent,” she said sweetly. “You might get burned.”
Family meetings with the Calhouns were traditionally noisy, argumentative and drenched with tears and laughter. This one was abnormally subdued. Amanda, in her capacity as adviser on finances, sat at the head of the table.
The room was silent.
Suzanna had already put the children to bed. It had been a little easier than usual as both of them had exhausted themselves with Fred—and vice versa.
Trent had excused himself discreetly, directly after dinner. It hardly mattered, C.C. thought. He would know the outcome soon enough.
She was afraid everyone knew it already.
“I guess we all know why we’re here,” Amanda began. “Trent’s going back to Boston on Wednesday, and it would be best all around if we gave him our decision about the house before he left.”
“It would be better if we concentrated on finding the necklace.” Lilah’s stubborn look was offset by the nervous way she twisted the obsidian crystals around her neck.
“We’re all still looking for the papers.” Suzanna laid a hand on Lilah’s arm. “But I think we have to face the reality that finding the necklace could take a long time. Longer than we have.”
“Thirty days is longer than we have.” All eyes turned to Amanda. “I got a notice from the lawyer last week.”
“Last week!” Coco put in. “Stridley contacted you and you didn’t mention it?”
“I was hoping I could get an extension without worrying everyone.” Amanda laid her hand on the file she set on the table.
“No deal. We’ve been chipping away at the back taxes, but the hard fact is that we haven’t been making enough headway.
The insurance premiums are due. We can make them all right, and the mortgage—for the time being.
The utility bills over the winter were higher than usual, and the new furnace and repairs to the roof ate up a lot of our principal. ”
C.C. held up a hand. “How bad is it?”
“As bad as it gets.” Amanda rubbed at an ache in her temple. “We could sell off a few more pieces, and keep our head above water. Just. But taxes are due again in a couple months, and we’ll be back where we started.”
“I can sell my pearls,” Coco began, and Lilah cut her off.
“No. Absolutely not. We agreed a long time ago that there were some things that couldn’t be sold. If we’re going to face facts,” she said grimly, “then let’s face them.”
“The plumbing’s shot,” Amanda continued, and had to clear her tightening throat. “If we don’t get the rewiring done, we could end up burning the place down around our ears. Suzanna’s lawyer’s fees—”
“That’s my problem,” Suzanna interrupted.
“That’s our problem,” Amanda corrected, and got a unanimous note of assent.
“We’re a family,” she continued. “We’ve been through the very worst together, and we handled it.
Six or seven years ago, it looked as if everything was going to be fine.
But... taxes have gone up, along with the insurance, the repairs, everything.
It’s not as though we’re paupers, but the house eats up every cent of spare cash, and then some.
If I thought we could weather this, hang in for another year or two, I’d say sell the Limoges, or a few antiques.
But it’s like trying to plug a hole in a dam and watching others spring out while your fingers are slipping. ”
“What are you saying, Mandy?” C.C. asked her.
“I’m saying.” Amanda pressed her lips together.
“I’m saying the only realistic choice I see is for us to sell the house.
With the offer from St. James, we can pay off the debts, keep most of what’s important to all of us and buy another.
If we don’t sell, it’s going to be taken away from us in any case within a few months.
” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I just can’t find a way out.”
“It’s not your fault.” Suzanna reached out for her hand. “We all knew it was coming.”
Amanda sniffled and shook her head. “What buffer we had, we lost in the stock market crash. We just haven’t been able to recover. I know I made the investments—”
“ We made the investments.” Lilah leaned over to join hands, as well. “On the recommendation of a very reputable broker. If the bottom hadn’t fallen through, if I’d won the lottery, if Bax hadn’t been such a greedy bastard, maybe things would be different now. But they’re not.”
“We’ll still be together.” Coco added her hand. “That’s what matters.”
“That’s what matters,” C.C. agreed, and laid her hand on top. And that, if nothing else, felt right. “What do we do now?”
Struggling for composure, Amanda sat back. “I guess we ask Trent to come down and make sure the offer still stands.”
“I’ll get him.” C.C. pushed away from the table to walk blindly from the room.
She couldn’t believe it. Even as she walked through the huddle of rooms, into the hallway, up the steps with her hand trailing along the banister, she couldn’t believe it. None of it would be hers much longer.
There would come a time very soon when she wouldn’t be able to step from her room onto the high stone terrace and look out at the sea.
She wouldn’t be able to climb the steps to Bianca’s tower and find Lilah curled on the window seat, dreaming out through the dusty glass.
Or Suzanna working in the garden with the children racing on the lawn nearby.
Amanda wouldn’t come bolting down the stairs in a hurry to get somewhere, do something.
Aunt Coco would no longer fuss over the stove in the kitchen.
In a matter of moments, the life she’d known was over. The one to come had yet to begin. She was somewhere in a kind of limbo, too stunned from the loss to ache.