27
E xhaustion proved a potent elixir. Olivia slept deeply and awoke to an empty cell. Voices sounded from the station door’s other side, but where she lay all was quiet. She rose and dressed and padded into the main station, where a large woman with flashing eyes greeted her with a steaming mug. “I was just about to bring you this. You saved me a journey into nightmare territory.”
Maud said, “Emilia has a thing about jails.”
“As would anybody with a proper brain in their heads,” Emilia replied.
Maud looked over. “Excuse me?”
“Present company excepted, of course.” Her smile was a glorious thing, huge and illuminating. “You must forgive me, Maud. I’m merely excited about saving this lovely woman from her present fate.”
“Actually, that’s exactly what the jail has done for me,” Olivia offered. “Saved me from being stranded in the storm.”
“There, see?” Maud resumed her work. “You’re welcome back any time, hon.”
Emilia sniffed. “Well, that was then and this is now. My Berto has a home for you. Isn’t that wonderful news, Maud?”
“Great.” Maud punched her keyboard with renewed force. “Yay.”
Olivia said, “You’re Berto Acosta’s wife?”
“Of course. Didn’t I say that?”
“Actually, no.”
Maud offered, “She forgets herself now and again, does Emilia.”
Emilia went on, “Berto left with his crew hours ago, which is silly, since my husband won’t do anything but stand around shouting orders while the crew does the real work. So here I am, playing stand-in, ready to show you your new home.”
Olivia found herself struggling to keep up. “Berto is up working on my cottage?”
“She left that part out too,” Maud said, then added, “Bailey’s gone up too. She stopped by here an hour or so ago and collected Dillon.”
Olivia decided now was a good time to retreat. “I need my gear. Bailey’s given me a list of things she wants photographed.”
“Speaking of my dear friend the mayor . . .” Emilia followed her into the jail. She stopped in the cell’s entry, shuddered, then asked, “If you want my advice, you need to watch out. Bailey has what I’d call a wandering eye.”
“It’s not wandering.” Olivia opened her camera case, selected the Canon body, fit on her most flexible zoom, and stood. “Bailey is head over heels in love.”
Emilia’s gaze widened. “You’re okay with this?”
“I think it’s wonderful,” Olivia said, and was both delighted and relieved to discover she meant it.
“Well.” Emilia started back down the central corridor. “This has all the makings of a good telenovela. Which I positively adore. You must tell me everything.”
* * *
Emilia insisted they stop by the diner’s rear door for breakfast burritos and more coffee. Olivia filled in portions of the recent Dillon saga between bites. The woman proved to be a wonderful listener, gasping softly in response to the more salacious bits, humming a sorrowful note at Olivia’s reasons for returning. Claire stood in the doorway, arms crossed, smiling to Olivia’s retelling. When they were done, Emilia ignored Claire’s protests, stuffed bills in the woman’s apron, and declared, “We’re off.”
Emilia possessed a flexible accent, one moment speaking with a flat Californian resonance, the next almost singing to some internal salsa. “We have so many nice people moving into Miramar. You will soon have many new friends. And Berto likes your young man very much.” She touched a finger to her lips, denting her grin. “Next time I must correct these words before they emerge.”
“It’s okay. I have the same problem.”
“See? You are living proof that the currents of life can be altered.” She pointed ahead as they started down the lane between the guesthouse and the coffee shop. “Do you remember this area?”
“Dillon had a friend who lived back here.” Small shops gave way to a rubble-strewn park. On the opposite end, teens played a noisy game of basketball. Every basket was marked by a rattling of the chain-link net. “He used to call it ‘where bad people came looking for trouble.’ ”
“Those days are gone,” Emilia declared. “Thanks to Porter and the town council and good people who want to see things change. Before the storm, this park was to be our next big challenge. Now such things must wait. But not for long. You mark my words.”
Olivia found herself liking the woman immensely. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. Back to Berto and the young man who is no longer yours.” She offered an impish smile. “See? You are not the only one who can change course. Now we must discuss tomorrow. Berto hears they want Dillon to become the new auditor. Town and county both.” She glanced over. “The question, the concern, is how long this Dillon plans to remain.”
Which seemed the proper moment to share what she knew of Dillon’s recent past. The story took them along several more blocks of low-slung houses, some beautifully kept up, others as decrepit as the park. Emilia turned down one side street, another, winding their way farther from the town’s heart.
Finally Emilia halted at the boundary of a rain-sodden construction site. The building project covered all of one block and much of the next. Raw earth and piles of construction materials glistened under the looming gray sky. “This is my darling man’s dream project.” Emilia pointed to a lone house rising in the second block’s far corner. “That is to be his show home.”
It would have been all too easy to discount the cottage entirely. The yard was raw earth, its neighbors were three skeleton frames, the drive unfinished. But as to the home itself, Olivia murmured, “Lovely.”
“This neighborhood has been Berto’s passion since forever. One I share. We both grew up here. Back then, it was a good place. People worked hard, kids played safely in the streets, friendships were strong, families stronger.” She stared at the empty block, remembering. “Time has not been nice to our neighborhood. We want to change that.”
The cottage was a modern rendition of the Craftsman style. The simple whitewashed exterior was brightened by pale-wood frames around the windows and matching pillars fronting the broad porch.
“It will be noisy,” Emilia warned. “Sunrise to sundown.”
“We can live with that,” Olivia said. “Definitely.”
“Berto will finish your neighbors next. He says three months should do it, once the rains end. Until the next home is live-in ready, he wants to use your place as his show home.” Emilia glanced over. “You and your former young man will be okay with this?”
“I can’t speak for Dillon. But my guess is, he’ll be thrilled.”
“The power company promises this neighborhood will have power fully restored by this evening. Berto hopes they can have water turned on tomorrow, two days at the most.” Emilia smiled. “Of course, this is a builder who is making these promises. At Christmas time. After these storms.”
“I understand.” Olivia studied the home and recalled, “When I was little, Mom used to take me on these long wandering drives. She’d stop at homes like this and say something like, ‘One day.’ ”
As Emilia started to respond, her phone chimed. She glanced at the screen, and abruptly started away. “So it’s settled. Now we must dash.”
“Wait, what about seeing inside?”
“No time, no time!” She was almost running. “Hurry! ”