Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
JAMES
Icould have sworn my phone’s charge had been at roughly sixty-something when I’d left that stupid interview.
So why is it sitting in your hand dead, dumbass?
On top of lack of sleep, a long day, now being in the one place I’d rather not be at in the moment with a truck on the fritz, I was now seeing things.
Fed up with the day’s turn of events, I pocketed my phone and hoofed it up the long driveway, toward the home that stood there.
I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved that vehicles were parked in front of the house or if I’d have preferred there be no one to greet me when I knocked on the door in the next few minutes.
Wrapping my knuckles against the original hardwood door to the home, I was too busy admiring the woodwork and the ornateness of the steel door knocker that I never registered the tall buxom redhead that answered.
“Hello?”
Vexed, my eyes trailed from her hot-pink painted toes, up her long, curvy bare legs in what looked like short jersey shorts, followed by an oversized threadbare t-shirt that played peek-a-boo with her left shoulder.
Her hair was up in one of those messy topknots that Emelia loved to wear on her days off.
On the clearing of a throat, my eyes snapped to her emerald ones, and I almost forgot why it was that I knocked on this door right then.
Noticing that her right hand was covered by a latex glove, holding another latex glove, and a rag that smelled very much like lacquer or polyurethane, I led with, “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.”
“Maggie, I’ve got to go.” Some blonde womanly tornado in heels and a flouncy blouse and skirt came rushing out, almost bowling me over had I not moved aside quick enough. I immediately recognized her as the woman from the SOLD! sign up by the road. “Got to meet a client. Ciao, bella!”
Maggie’s and my eyes trailed the woman to her car, but she’d been too late to hide the “wow” she mouthed, which caused a small laugh to escape me.
“Are you a neighbor?” I heard, bringing me back to the present.
“W-what? Oh, no. Sorry.” I collected myself. “Not a neighbor. My truck broke down at the end of your drive, and would you believe me if I said my phone is dead?” I nervously ran my hand through my hair, sure I’d made a bigger mess of it. “Could I possibly borrow your phone to call a tow?”
“Maggie?” Another female voice interrupted us, and then a small brunette came to a stop next to her. “What’s– Oh!”
She looked at her friend and explained, “His truck broke down. He needs to call a tow.”
“And my phone is dead.” I slid the piece of technology that had failed me into my hand and showed both women I wasn’t lying, hoping that the standoffishness I felt rolling off the cute redhead would fade some.
“Serena, get my phone, will ya?”
“Sure.” That Serena woman turned to a makeshift table of sawhorses and an old door, grabbed a device, and handed it to Maggie.
“Here,” she said, slowly backing away from the open door. “Come on in. It’s hot as Hades out there, and I’m afraid it’s not much better in here since the AC is out, but the breeze through the windows is helping a bit.”
I groaned a “Thanks” when my fingers brushed her soft hand, covering it up hopefully quickly enough with a, “Doing some work?” After closing the door behind me, I looked around, taking in the foyer for the first time in nearly a year, then nodded to her full left hand.
She shrugged. “Some.”
“Most people would just tear a place like this down and start from scratch,” my mouth ran away from me.
“Well, I’m not most people,” she fired back and nodded to the hand that held her phone. “Maybe you should make that call.”
After a quick search, finding my buddy Randy’s shop’s number, I called him up. After a short chat where he busted my balls over my beater truck, telling me I owed him a beer sometime soon, we hung up.
“Thanks.” I gave her a nod of appreciation as I handed the phone back to her.
“I know it’s none of my business, but why did you say you’re not like most people?
All I see so far is a pile of old wood and garbage to the side of the house, and nothing seems to be in the process of being restored.
Looks to me like you want to keep some of the house’s charm, but you want to modernize everything, like you’re going beyond introducing modern-day amenities.
In my experience, that never quite works out. ”
“Excuse me?” She handed her phone to her friend, whose eyes were round in surprise at how the conversation had evolved. “Who the fuck are you?” She peeled the last remaining glove off and handed that, the other glove, and her rag to her friend also.
“I’m someone who appreciates history and hates to see it destroyed,” I explained, feeling my ire climbing.
“Whoa!” that Serena lady managed, and the look she threw me when I turned to peer at her was one of warning that I’d just stepped on a proverbial landmine.
“Listen, jerk.” Maggie stepped closer and reached around me for the front doorknob, pulling inward.
“Not that it’s any of your business, nor do I owe you any explanation, but if you must know, I am restoring this place.
Well, most of it. Now, if you’re done shitting on a pure stranger, and forget about the fact that you’re assuming I can’t handle a place like this,” she spread her arms out to her sides, gesturing to the grandeur of her home, “then I suggest you head right back to where you came from. I don’t need your two cents like I didn’t need that of the four other contractors who’ve come waltzing in here, telling me I can’t do shit when I know different. ”
Ushering me backward with no word in edgewise during her tirade, she slammed the door in my face as soon as she finished speaking, successfully making me feel like the jackass I’d just been.
EMELIA
“Well, that didn’t quite go as well as planned,” Robert mumbled at my side as we leaned on the old porch railing. There were perks when you were a ghost. You see, a human would have fallen through the railing, whereas a mere speck of dust could hold us up if we willed it.
I was too busy digesting my realization to commiserate with Robert.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my Gooood!” I danced around. “Do you know who that is?”
Robert stood tall, looking at me as though I’d suddenly grown two heads.
“That’s Margaret Fontaine! The Margaret Fontaine!
” I turned to follow my brother, who trudged slowly back toward his truck and peered at Robert.
That was when I realized he’d never have known this unless he’d been peeking in on his new houseguest. In the state the house looked like when we’d been in there, I doubted she’d done any writing at all.
Robert’s mouth quirked up. “I’ve gathered she’s an author, but what’s got your knickers in a knot?”
I snickered. “Knickers? You people seriously called them that back in the thirties?”
He shrugged. “Twenties, toots. And what? What do you call ‘em?”
“Well, doll,” I enunciated the last in a teasing fashion, “in this era, you might hear them called panties, underwear, undergarments, undies… There are too many terms to them, because then you also have style names to factor in.” Shaking my head to get back to the conversation at hand, I smirked.
“Margaret Fontaine is the bestselling author of a slew of spicy romcom, suspense, and thriller novels.”
“Hmm,” Robert said. “But, Margaret being what amounts to a sensational writer aside, we have a problem here.”
Just as Jamie paused to lean against his truck, I knew time was running out to plot with Robert.
“Let me work on him,” I assured my new friend. “Knowing my brother, he’s already starting to beat himself up for letting his mouth get away with him.”
“What was up with that, anyway?” the man asked.
“He’s running a little high on emotions right now,” I explained.
“This place,” I nodded toward the house we’d just come from, “your house was a dream we had together. But I got sick before we could put an offer on the place. Now that Margaret’s bought it, the place he thought would be a home and a beautiful showpiece for his business is gone. ”
“I see.” Robert looked toward the fields of wildflowers and the forest beyond. “He seems like a noble man with a big heart and a good head on his shoulders.”
A pang of sadness that I’d never be the recipient of those sweet gestures of his again hit me square in the chest. I gave Robert a small, sad smile, wiping at a tear. “He’s the very best.”
In the distance, I saw the tow truck coming around the bend.
Turning toward Robert, I leaned and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Give me a few days. A week tops, and I’ll have him back here.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”
And just like last time, I watched as a waving Robert faded into the distance, hoping I was right.