Chapter 4
Chapter Four
SAMANTHA
“ S am? What’s up?” Marlowe sounded so sleepy and Sam checked the time. Past midnight. What had she been thinking, contacting her sister at this hour? But earlier they’d talked about checking in at the end of the day.
“Sorry to be calling so late. You've probably had a long day with that flight and everything. But I can’t sleep.” Sam wished they were back at Sunnycrest. Their bedrooms had been right down the hall from each other when they were young. Back then it had been so easy to camp out on each other’s beds and talk in the darkness. Today had been draining for both of them, traveling back from Michigan. Sam should have waited until tomorrow to call. Marlowe would be more rested.
But tonight she felt desperate. Sam needed her sister. With only two years between them, they’d been close growing up, especially after losing their parents.
“Of course it's not too late.” Marlowe’s yawn turned the last words into a mumble. “I made the mistake of joining the guys from work for a drink.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Her sister cleared her throat. “Ever. No apologies. What else did the idiot take from the house?”
Marlowe was so sharp. Of course she’d already pinpointed the problem. Heck with holding back. With her sister, Sam could always let it rip. “I am seething mad. The kind of mad that makes me want to throw plates, not that I’ve ever done that. I’ll leave that to Izzy.”
Marlowe snorted. “I don’t think she’s done that plate tossing since her Skipper Malone days.”
“Right, well, I don't know if I have enough dinnerware left to throw since Kurt raided the kitchen.”
“You go, girl!” Marlowe laughed, and Sam couldn't help joining her. Instead of pacing, she sat down in the chaise that Kurt probably didn't want so he’d left it. He'd always thought the flowered fabric was way too feminine. When they’d bought this house, her ex had negotiated to have his office desk in their bedroom, but Sam had drawn the line. Her chaise had taken that space. Phone to her ear, she sank into its comfort and pulled up the fuchsia afghan.
“Met some folks from work for drinks. Wanted to talk to Landon about something. Went straight to bed as soon as I got home,” her sister said. Never a complainer, Marlowe hadn’t said much about her job over the holidays. Sam pictured everything to be perfect. Apparently not.
“Who the heck is London?” Sam was trying to keep things straight.
“Landon,” Marlowe said. “Landon Hardy. He owns the company.”
“Hmm. Quite a name.”
A tired giggle was the response. “Tonight one of the other realtors told me his name used to be Harold Hardy. Harry. But he changed it when he took over the firm from his father.”
“That’s kind of crazy to just change your name like that.”
“That would be Landon. Believe it or not, names count in Naples.”
Marlowe sounded more discouraged than tired. Maybe this wasn’t the time for Sam to air her own problems. “You know you should get some rest, right?”
“I'm in bed right now so if I fall asleep and start to snore, just yell, “Wake up, Marlowe!’” That brought another fit of giggles. After the day she’d had, it felt so good to laugh. And there was no one she’d rather laugh with than her sister.
“You're still thinking of relocating, right?” Sam sure hoped that Marlowe hadn't changed her mind. She listened to her sister blow out a big sigh.
“I guess tonight confirmed our plans.”
“Good to hear it.” Relief flooded Sam’s body and she relaxed into the chaise. Noting some empty shelves, Sam's eyes traveled around the room. How would she ever tally up all the things that Kurt had taken from this house? She was so angry that Kurt had done this while she was away. A month ago she’d asked him about the house but he’d wanted nothing. Had the new woman in his life changed his mind? “Do you think Kurt’s new girlfriend helped him when he came over to steal things from the house?”
Her cat Bogart had entered the room. Leaping onto the chaise, he snuggled down next to her. Feeling his comfortable purring against her always calmed Sam.
“Why go there?” Marlowe said. “It'll just upset you more. We have to take a methodical approach to this life change we’re considering. We can’t be side-tracked. Did Kurt take anything you wanted to bring with you to Charlevoix?”
“You’re right. Probably not.” Sam skimmed one hand over Bogart’s soft fur. What use was it to get angry over furniture and dishes? All the way home to Chicago Sam had been wondering how she was going to downsize. Maybe Kurt had unknowingly made things easier. Bogart lifted her eyes to her as if troubled by Sam's thoughts. But then he settled back, flicking his tail around himself and closing his eyes.
“Tomorrow I’m going to check the client accounts. See if he made any changes there.” The thought sent Sam into a panic. If he contacted clients again with changes, she’d wring his neck. She was trying to make the impact of their divorce as seamless as possible to preserve those relationships. Her entire body froze. Bogart arched his back and leapt down onto the carpet.
“Don't think about that tonight,” Marlowe said. “Give yourself a chance to relax.”
“You’re right.” She settled back again. By the time Sam hit Chicago on the drive back, the Eisenhower was jammed. And as she drove west, it didn't get any better. “I can always buy another rowing machine.”
“He took your rowing machine?” Marlowe said with a snort. “The big spender couldn't afford to buy himself another one?”
“Mine was probably more convenient, although he hardly ever used it. Probably trying to impress the girlfriend. You're right. I'll check that client list tomorrow. He chose some of the plum accounts when we were divvying up the business. Wasn’t that enough? I didn't expect him to take things like the wok. I don't ever remember him using it.”
“Maybe his girlfriend likes to stir fry.”
What a depressing thought. On the other hand, Sam was relieved that someone else was in charge of providing Kurt's meals. He’d become picky over the years. His idea of helping with dinner was picking up a pizza on the way home.
“I wanted to tell you,” Marlowe said. “On the first flight of my trip back to Florida, I sat next to the most fascinating woman.”
“Aren't we all fascinating?” Sam grinned, happy to change the subject.
“Gabby has a decorating business with her husband,” Marlowe continued.
“Her name is Gabby?”
“I think it's short for Gabrielle. I'll have to check her business card. After hearing about her real estate agency and her interest in decorating, I asked if she could recommend an architect. She's going to send me some names.”
“That's great. We’re on a roll.” Marlowe's news was reassuring. She was still on track, so no need to worry. The sooner they began renovating Sunnycrest, the better Sam would feel. After Kurt's behavior, she wanted the project to begin. Once they were involved in bringing the old family home up to date, none of them would get cold feet.
“We definitely need an architect, not just a contractor,” Marlowe said. “I also think it would be good to involve a decorator too. We might each have different opinions about things. We need someone objective to guide us.”
“Excellent point. Some of us can be very set in our ways.”
“Speak for yourself. I can be a cream puff.”
“Marlowe, you are anything but a cream puff.” Her sister had always been the athletic one in their family. Over the holidays, she’d talked Sam into cross country skiing. Big mistake. Since Sam hadn't been on skis for years, it was no surprise when she injured her ankle. What would she have done without Marlowe? Her sister was the woman you wanted around when you had an emergency. Her ski-trail injury had also brought her back in contact with Josh McCall, an old boyfriend. But she wouldn’t think about him now. “Of the three of us, you are the most athletic. You have confidence plus.”
“Oh, I don't know. You should have seen me tonight, confronting Landon. Maybe I should have been more forceful.”
“You must have been exhausted.”
“Right, and disappointed. I thought I could trust the new agent who was helping me. But Landon got to her.”
Sam had never heard her sister sound so discouraged. “What did he have to say about that?”
“Talked around the issue. Made it sound as if the client had changed his mind.”
“Can’t you call the client?”
“He’s on his yacht in the Mediterranean.”
“The phone is a wonderful thing.”
“I want to think about this first. The two guys are friends. I should have been suspicious when Landon let me take on that listing. Still, he seemed okay with it. I had the open house all planned. But while I was in Charlevoix, they rescheduled it to New Year’s Day. Do you believe it? Apparently the event brought in a buyer.” Her sister’s dejection seeped through the phone.
“That is so unfair. Why would he do that? You’ve worked hard for that company.”
Marlowe didn’t say anything. Sam suspected there was more of a story there, and she’d hear it someday.
“I'm not sure what I'm going to do.”
“Give yourself time to think about it.” She couldn't imagine anyone getting the best of Marlowe.
“I have to be careful right now. I have several other properties I need to close on. The young woman who had just joined the company, the girl I’d been mentoring, is absolutely no help. I've got to cut ties with her since she's gone to Camp Landon.”
“Well, yes. If that’s how it is.”
“I’m afraid so. I don't want Jenna, that’s her name, to be feeding him any of my plans to leave the company. Have to keep everything on the low-down.”
“Understood. I guess we all need to keep this under wraps. My accounts don't need any more confusion in their lives either.” Sam thought of the days ahead. “I owe it to our clients to make my relocation seamless. Business as usual and I'll work that out.”
“Same on my part,” Marlowe said. “Here in Naples I've represented myself as a woman who's involved in this community. If they find out that I'm taking off for Michigan, I could lose a lot of credibility.”
“We could probably help each other out as we move ahead.” Pushing one foot out from under the afghan, Sam wiggled her toes. “I think I need a pedicure.”
“What?” Marlowe yelped. “What are you talking about? Why do you care about your feet? Oh, wait a minute.” Sam could hear the sly smile in her sister's voice. She’d seen it a million times when they were teenagers together.
“Now don't go jumping to any conclusions.” Sam knew where Marlowe was headed. She tucked her feet back under the afghan.
“I won't. But I keep thinking of a certain handsome doctor who took his time tending to your poor mangled ankle after that accident on the ski trail.”
This was so embarrassing. Her sister knew Sam too well. When they were in high school, those bonfires on the beach had been such fun. Josh McCall had been part of the charm. Now he was a widowed orthopedic surgeon in Charlevoix.
When she’d kicked off her boot so Josh could wrap her ankle at the ski hut, she’d felt embarrassed. Her toenails were trash. Having pretty bare feet with polished toes hadn’t been a big priority for her in recent years. When had Kurt last noticed them? She should have been into this pedicure thing long ago. But during Chicago’s snowy winters, she’d worn a lot of boots.
Where would she be next summer? Would she be in Charlevoix, digging her toes into the warm sand any chance she’d get? Toes in the sand. She tried to carry that image in her mind. Energized, she continued to plan with her sister until Marlowe grew silent. Then she finally said in a quiet voice, “I miss them tonight, Sam.”
“I know. Me too.” Sam knew what Marlowe was talking about. Aunt Cate, Izzy and the baby. They'd had such a wonderful time together. “Maybe we should schedule a Facetime call.”
“Great idea. I’ll try to check with them tomorrow to set a time.” Despite all their complaining, Marlowe and Sam ended the conversation on a happy note. Sam felt reassured, ready for her next steps.
But as she lay in her king-size bed with the winter wind whistling around the eaves, the empty rooms in the big house haunted her. Many of the pieces Kurt had taken, like the leather recliners, they’d chosen together. At least he hadn’t touched their china. Pulling together a new home would be fun. Counting her blessings, she finally fell asleep. But she woke up several times during the night. The house had creaks. A squeak here, a knocking there. Those had never bothered her before.
Maybe Sam should thank her ex for ripping off the furniture. The emptiness he’d created made her more eager to move on.