Chapter 18 #3
He put on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, and was on his way to the kitchen when the cell phone he’d left on the kitchen counter began to ring. He ran to answer without looking to see who was calling.
“Hello.”
“Hey, you, I hope you weren’t asleep, but I had this feeling that I needed to call you. Is everything okay?”
He sighed. “God, Nora, how did you just do that?”
Nora frowned. “Do what, love? What’s wrong? Talk to me. A burden shared is always lighter.”
“I just… There was a wreck… These kids… I didn’t know them… Just saw it all happen and…”
Nora heard the break in his voice, and knew that he had been crying, and it broke her heart.
He was rambling. Everything was in bits and pieces.
Some of it was from his childhood, some of it was what had just happened to the little boys in the wreck.
Talking about stuff she’d never heard him voice.
He’d scared himself and she knew it, so she just listened until he stopped on his own.
“Shit, Nora. I’m not crazy. I just didn’t know I’d kept all that inside me. You caught me at a bad moment, or I would have never had the guts to tell you. To even talk about it. I’m sorry, really sorry.”
Nora groaned. “You do not ever apologize to me again for being honest. I have bawled off and on all over you, for the entire time you were in Crossroads, and you were there for me every time. I know you were the stoic for everyone in your family, but that’s not how we work.
We’re partners. Not emotional cripples. Me for you. You for me. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“I love you. The whole you. Not just the face you turn to the world, no matter how pretty it is. Eat some food. Go to bed. This will all feel different in the morning, because you are no longer the secret keeper. You are not needed in that capacity again,” she said.
“The long-range forecast for this week is the possibility of bad weather by this weekend. I refuse to be flooded in, trapped for God knows how long here, when I want to be with you. I will be at your house in two days. I will need the code to get into your gated community. A key to get into your house, and the code to deactivate the security alarm.”
He started laughing. “Just call me when you leave. Call me when you hit the outskirts of Austin, and I’ll make damn sure that I’m there. Okay?”
“Okay, and I love you,” Nora said.
“Nora Borden, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Oh… I haven’t happened at all like I’m capable of happening. In the meantime, take care of you,” she said.
He was still smiling when the call ended, and then proceeded to do everything she’d just told him to do.
He ate some food, and he went to bed. And when he woke up the next morning, the first thought in his head was the boys and the dad.
He knew the hospital they’d been going to, and called a contact in admissions.
“Wendy Farris.”
“Wendy, this is Asher Kingston from the AG’s office. I need an update on Roy Lee Abrams. I pulled him and his sons out of that second pileup on the freeway last night. What is Abrams’ status?”
“Lord. Give me a sec,” she said.
He could hear keys clicking, and then she was back online.
“He’s in ICU, listed in serious condition. His next of kin was his wife, but she’s been listed as deceased.”
“Yeah, she died two hours before the wreck. Abrams was taking his kids to a grandmother’s house when the wreck happened.”
“Oh my God. Wait… Here’s added info. Ray Abrams and Mike Abrams, ages seven and nine, respectively, were cleared to go home, and were released to Janice Abrams, paternal grandmother.”
Asher sighed with relief. “Thank you. Appreciate the update. I may actually sleep tonight,” he said, and disconnected, then went to the kitchen to start coffee before getting dressed for work.
An hour later, he walked into the office, unaware he’d been caught on camera at the crash site, carrying Mike and Ray Abrams to the ambulance.
“Way to go, Kingston,” someone said.
“Camera-worthy every time,” someone else shouted.
He stopped. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“That wreck. The flying Audi. What a mess, right?”
Asher snapped back. “If that son of a bitch isn’t dead, he will wish he was.
There wasn’t one damn thing funny about it.
He shot straight between me and the car ahead of me.
Missed me by inches, and sideswiped the car ahead of me instead, causing that multicar pileup.
Then he shot across two more lanes trying to make the exit to the off ramp.
I watched the bastard go airborne as I hit my lights to go after him.
He landed in the middle of traffic below the overpass, causing the second pileup as well.
Those little boys, nine and seven years old.
Their mother had just died hours before in a hospital.
Their dad was taking them to their grandma’s house.
The first thing the oldest boy asked me was if his daddy was dead, and then the rest of their tragedy spilled out.
I couldn’t find the words to answer, and I don’t want to talk about it. ”
He hung his jacket and Stetson on the coat rack behind his desk and sat down.
The room was silent.
A few moments later, someone put a cup of coffee on his desk as they passed by, and another brought him a sweet roll. He didn’t acknowledge the gestures or the gifts. His stomach was in knots.
“Meeting in the murder room in five,” someone announced, which was where updates and dead ends and any new leads were revealed.
Asher began gathering up what he’d worked on yesterday, and carried the coffee with him as he went, following the other investigators who were working on the same case.
* * *
The phone call from Asher last night had been the push that Nora needed. The first thing she did the next morning was contact the leasing agent to notify him that she wanted out of her lease.
He hemmed and hawed for a minute or two, and then asked her when she expected to leave.
“Within the next couple of days. It is something of a family emergency. The furniture will be out within the week of my leaving, and you can check with the building manager to verify I’m gone before you send cleaners to prep for rental.”
“Yes, well, of course. That’s quite sudden, but we understand how these things happen, and your five-year lease was up for renewal in a couple of months,” he said.
“Thank you,” Nora said. “I will leave the keys with security before I go. You can pick them up there.”
Satisfied that was behind her, she got online and began searching for staging companies, and to her surprise, the Dallas/Fort Worth area was full of them. She called seven, five of which were immediately interested, and explained the requirements that must be met.
She told them she had a penthouse full of fine furniture to sell today, and it had to be picked up within a week, although she would be gone by tomorrow. But it wasn’t until after she gave them the address of the building in which she lived, that their interest soared.
Within the hour, she had five different designers, all arriving at the same time, and had given each of them the same speech.
“There are five of you. You will all meet at the security desk and check in. The guard will have your name. It will require your ID to proceed from there. You will all be escorted up at the same time. I will give you twenty minutes to look at everything. You will write down your name and your bid on a piece of paper, fold it, and hand it to me without comment. I will open them all at the same time, and the person with the highest offer gets the lot.”
Every person she spoke to asked her the same question. “Who are you?”
“A careful woman with someplace else to be,” was the only answer she gave.
After speaking to the last designer, she called down to the front desk, told them what was going to happen at 11:00 a.m. this morning, and gave them the designers’ names, and requested an escort to take them up to her penthouse.
Once she had everything set up, she logged out of her computers, locked everything into the desk in her office, and thought about what persona she needed to present to get the highest price for her things.
That’s when she remembered the ornate pair of black silk lounging pajamas decorated with a gold-and-white dragon design that she’d brought back from a trip to Japan.
She hadn’t given them her name, and a bit of international elegance never hurt.
She dug out the little gold silk slippers that went with it and got dressed.
After she put her hair up, she added mascara and a lipstick called Go-to-Hell Red, then took a picture of herself in a full-length mirror and saved it to send to Asher.
She was in full-on power mode when eleven o’clock rolled around, and within ten minutes, she got a call from the front desk.
“Ma’am, your guests are on the way up.”
“Thank you,” Nora said, and then stayed sitting until the knock at the door.
She crossed the marbled flooring in the foyer, looked through the peep hole, and then turned the locks and opened the door.
“Thank you, Gage. I’ll let you know when they are leaving,” and then she smiled. “Please come in.”
By their professions alone, the interior designers were not unaccustomed to wealthy clients, but their interest in this place and this woman of secrets was already piqued.
“You may leave your coats in here if you wish. I will be leading you from room to room, but I will not interfere, or comment in any way. These are your judgments and decisions to make, and yours alone.”
The lone man in the group held up his hand. “A question before we start. It is my understanding that you will not be here when we come to move the furniture out. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a freight elevator in this building for moving furniture in and out?”
Nora nodded. “Yes, it’s how mine was brought in. It will be simple enough for professional movers to take out.”
“Thank you,” he said.
She explained briefly before they began.
“There is a primary bedroom and a secondary bedroom. An office. And then living/dining you see here, and a kitchen and laundry area beyond. You are bidding on the contents of this penthouse. That includes everything but my personal belongings, which will already be with me, and my computers. This way please.”
She began moving then from room to room, watching them making notes, and taking pictures, sending texts back and forth, she assumed to people in their office.
And every now and then, catching them glaring at each other, knowing the likelihood of winning this weird silent auction hinged on what the four other people would bid.
Finally, they were back where they began. At that point, they were frantically texting back and forth to their offices, then at the end, writing down their name and bid, folding it and bringing it to Nora.
She thanked each of them politely, stepped aside to open each bid, laid them side by side, and then picked up the second one from the bottom.
“Eloise of Lone Star Staging.”
The woman smiled and nodded as disappoint fell upon the others.
Nora kept talking. “Eloise, your bid will be valid for the next three hours. I will need your card for further information, and will invoice your office with a bank and account number. Once I receive notice the money has been deposited, I will fax a signed bill of sale to your office. If you fail to meet the timeline and requirements, then Charles of Elegance Incorporated will be notified, and the lot will go to them. Thank you. I’ll call down to let them know you’re coming,” she said, and walked them to the door.
As soon as she turned the locks, she went straight to her bedroom and began undressing.
The whole secret act of not revealing her name, and the outfit she’d chosen to wear, had totally sold their desire to have what she owned.
She knew what the contents of the penthouse were worth because she’d bought them.
But to her, they were just the finery and décor of the prison she’d put herself in.
Her future was Ash. And, unless Eloise backed out, Nora was about to be thirty-four thousand dollars to the good, and on her way to Austin by tomorrow.