11 Hanging by a Hair (14 page)

Go, Ma!
The shmuck deserved a put-down. Marla hovered nearby to hear his excuse.

“Well, Doreen left town early, so I could join you here after all.”

“We have to talk about this, Roger.” Anita’s lips thinned. “I’m not sure we can just take off where we left things.”

Taking her arm, he winked at her. “I’ll make it up to you,
shaineh maidel.
”

Marla rolled her eyes. Calling her mother a beautiful girl wouldn’t sway her.

“Surprise!” the girls yelled in unison when Brianna strolled into the room.

That put an end to Marla’s eavesdropping. She bustled over to kiss Dalton and hug the girl. “Happy Birthday, Brie. I thought you’d like to have a few friends to celebrate with you.”

“Awesome, Marla. You’re the best.” The teen threw her arms around Marla for a tight hug that brought moisture to Marla’s eyes.

She’d been afraid of having children for so long, due to a past tragedy, that she’d missed out on the intense pleasure a family could bring. Maybe it was worth the agony of worry to experience the joy, but she still had enough to handle without bearing children of her own. That would be the
last
thing on her lifelong to-do list.

What amazed her was the delight in giving happiness to Dalton’s child. Marla wouldn’t have expected to gain so much from the simple act of trying to make the girl’s life a better one.

Brianna looked pretty in a form-fitting maxi dress, making Marla realize how much she’d grown in the few short years they’d known each other. She was blossoming into a lovely young lady, mostly thanks to Dalton’s upbringing after his former wife died. And while he tended to be overprotective, he had his heart in the right place.

She entwined her arm in his and smiled up at him.

“What?” he said, peering down at her with his smoky gaze.

“I love you.” She savored his masculine scent and the spice cologne he favored.

“Love you, too.” He disengaged to pat his stomach. “When do we eat? I’m starved.”

Marla spread her hands. “Men! They’re all alike. Speaking of eating, look who showed up. Aren’t we lucky?”

Dalton cast a disdainful glance toward Roger. “So I see. What prompted his presence? I thought he and your mom were on the outs.”

“His sister was visiting and monopolized his time, or so he said. I think Barry had some influence there. He must have soured on us since, uh, you and I got married.”

Dalton’s eyes darkened. “I hope your mom doesn’t just lap up Roger’s attention again.”

“Me, too. Go greet everyone and then we can get started. Girls, you can take your seats. The menus are on the table. Order whatever you like.”

They proceeded through the entrees while chatting and viewing the yachts passing by on the waterway. The water glistened in the sun’s rays, a perfect day for the beach or boating. Weather in March could be variable, so they’d lucked out with the sunshine today.

Brie decided to open her presents before dessert. She exclaimed with pleasure over the e-reader from Marla and Dalton. The teen was a voracious reader of mystery novels, like Nicole at work. “I love it, thanks!” she said with a special smile just for them.

After opening all of her friends’ gifts, she tore into Kate and John’s package. Her eyes popped when she saw the box. “An iPad! You didn’t! Oh thanks, Grams!”

“That’s an expensive present,” Marla muttered to Dalton with some dismay. It certainly outshone her gift, although e-readers and tablets did serve different purposes.

Nor was Anita to be outdone. Rather than giving cash, she’d splurged on a David Yurman necklace for the teen.

“It’s beautiful.” Brie held up the jewelry for all to admire.

Marla could get her matching earrings for the holidays. Then again, an iPhone might be less costly, and then Brie could sync apps between devices. Marla sighed with resignation. One of these days, she’d have to jump on the electronic bandwagon just to keep up.

She glanced around for the waiter. Some of the adults might want coffee, and she didn’t see any birthday candles for the cake. Excusing herself, she hurried into the main dining room to search for the guy.

She’d just passed into the front section when her gaze caught on a familiar bearded face. Gene Uris, the homeowners’ association vice president, shared a table with a red-haired fellow. Dressed in a suit and tie, Gene contrasted in refinement to his husky companion, who wore a sport shirt and jeans. Whatever they were discussing had made Gene scowl.

“Well, if it isn’t Gene Uris, our esteemed V.P.” Marla barreled toward their table with an enthusiastic smile. “Remember me? I’m Marla Vail, and I live in Royal Oaks.” She stuck her hand out.

Gene shook it reluctantly. “Marla, this is Erik Mansfield. Marla’s one of our residents,” he explained to his friend.

Marla tilted her head. “You look very nice, Gene. Are you here for a special occasion? We’re celebrating our daughter’s birthday.”

“Good for you. We’re in a meeting, and then I’m going into work after lunch.”

“Oh, I see.” So he was there for business. A quick survey revealed a wedding band on his finger but their table appeared set for two. “Where do you work?”

“I’m manager over at Lemmings and Sons in Pembroke Pines.”

“Nice.” Actually, she’d heard the furniture chain wasn’t doing so well. “Too bad you have to work on a weekend.”

“It’s part of the job.” He turned back toward his friend, clearly dismissing Marla.

“I’ve heard about the faulty windows,” Marla said, wanting to sound him out on the problem. “We’ve been living in our house for three months, but we haven’t noticed any issues.”

“That’s because they only leak when it rains.” He gripped his water glass. “I’m hoping Erik can clean up the mess that Ron left us.”

“Who?”

“Ron Cloakman, the developer for the master community.”

“Oh, I see.” No, she didn’t. Weren’t there several different builders involved? “What do you do?” she asked his fiery-haired companion.

The man looked as though he’d be at home at a bar brawl. His nose was slightly out of alignment, as though he’d been punched in the face and his schnozzle had stayed that way.

“I’m in construction. We have one of the bids in for the playground. Gene is trying to persuade me to throw in the window extrusions for a steep discount.”

Gene’s shoulders hunched. “If he’ll toss the window repairs into the deal, I’m sure the Board will vote for his bid. I’m convinced Erik is the best person for the job.”

Marla glanced between them in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I’m not following.”

“We didn’t discuss this issue at the HOA meeting, because the Board didn’t have enough information to present to residents. We’ll send out a special notice when the time comes.”

“For what? Am I missing something?”

“Really, Mrs. Vail, I’m on a time crunch, here. You can give me a call if you want to discuss things later. Or attend one of our Board meetings. Everyone is invited.”

“Sure, I’m sorry to have bothered you. Nice to have met you, Erik.” She stumbled away, wondering what on earth he’d meant.

Ruminating over their encounter, she signaled the waiter and got him to bring birthday candles for the cake. Lighting the wicks, singing “Happy Birthday,” dessert and farewells took up the next hour. After Brie’s friends departed, Dalton paid the bill while Marla shoved the gifts into a clean trash bag she’d brought for that purpose.

Kate and John said their goodbyes, on their way to more house hunting. Anita left with Roger. Marla watched them go with a grimace. He’d shown up at the last minute and hadn’t even had the courtesy to give Brianna a gift. Heaving a sigh, Marla wished her mother would come to her senses and ditch the man.

It wasn’t until much later that evening, when Marla was lying in bed next to Dalton that she brought up her conversation with Gene Uris.

“What was he talking about? What playground is up for a bid?” She turned on her side and smoothed her fingers along her husband’s biceps. She liked to feel the contours of his muscles beneath his hair-sprinkled skin.

He hadn’t gone to the gym this weekend and probably regretted the omission. Usually too busy during the week, he made time on weekends to work out. All of their activities of late had prevented him from following his routine. She vowed to lessen her demands.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care right now,” Dalton said, a smile playing about his lips as he responded to her touch.

She recognized that look in his eyes. “I can always ask my garage sale volunteers. They’re eager to share news about the community.”

“You do that.” He rolled to face her and brushed her lips with his. “I can think of better things to occupy our time.”

Marla’s mental wheels spun. “Yes, but what if Alan had harangued his cousin Beamis to fix the faulty windows, and the man decided to shut him up?”

“By killing him? It doesn’t make the issue go away. Gene Uris has taken up the reins.”

“He wants to get bids from other companies to do the repairs.”

“Replacements are more likely.” Dalton’s brows drew together. “You said the other guy at the table with Gene was in construction?”

Dalton’s face hovered inches from her mouth, his hot breath caressing her cheek. Tempted to lose herself in passion, she clung to rational thought.

“That’s right. Why wouldn’t Debbie, our secretary, solicit bids from interested parties? I’d think it would be her job to make contact. It’s odd for Gene to meet with this one contractor alone.”

“How’s this for making contact?” Dalton’s hand reached down, and Marla’s mind channeled along another path.

The weekend of the garage sale dawned bright and beautiful with temperatures in the low seventies and clear skies. Early that Sunday morning, Marla proceeded to the clubhouse to supervise her volunteers. More neighbors had offered to help, for which she was grateful. Even though it would be a busy day, she hoped to hear more about Alan Krabber.

The association treasurer had already unlocked the doors and set tables outside when Marla arrived. Cars with customers were lined up by seven o’clock. They’d billed the starting time for eight, but early birds always showed up to get the first look.

“Marla, shall I set up the cashier’s desk at the far side of the parking lot?” Cherry said, hustling toward her inside the clubhouse. “That way, people can’t slip past without paying.”

“Sure, go for it.” She wiped her hands on her jeans and contemplated where to start. “Angela, do you need any help with the bake sale?”

The blonde glanced up from the items she was adjusting on a platter. A glass domed cover sat on the kitchen counter next to it. “No, thanks, I’ve got it. You can put the sign on the door, though, so folks know to come inside to take a look.”

Marla strode over and peered at the red, white, and blue frosted cupcakes and the decorated cake pops on a plate beside them. “These look fabulous. Did you make them?”

Angela beamed. “Of course I did. I love baking.”

“You must have taken a cake decorating class to learn this precision.”

Angela laughed, exposing even, white teeth. “You’re absolutely right. I used to work at a supermarket bakery to earn money to go to college. Later, I’d find any excuse to bake a batch of muffins or other treats to bring into the office. I don’t get the chance so much anymore since I’ve been working at home.”

Marla put a hand on her hip. “What is it you do?”

“Graphic design.” Angela’s smile vanished. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to start the coffeemaker. If you get hungry, we have refreshments for volunteers behind the counter. See? I made blueberry scones and lemon tarts just for us.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Tell me, is your friend coming over to help?”

Angela’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“You know, Alfred. I delivered a letter for him to your address.”

Something flickered behind the woman’s eyes. “Oh, that was a mistake. Someone got the names mixed up, but the mail was meant for me.”

“O-kay.” Marla glanced around. No one was near them, and the other volunteers were efficiently setting out the household goods and racks of clothing with pricing labels intact. “By the way, I ran into Gene Uris the other day,” she said, lowering her voice. “He was talking to some guy who works in construction named Erik Mansfield. Do you know him? They were discussing association business.”

Angela shook her head, waves of blond hair framing her face. “Can’t say that I do.” Her hands kept busy, putting the glass cover on the cupcakes and laying a cake knife next to an iced Bundt cake.

“Well, thanks so much for being here today, Angela. We appreciate your help.”

Marla turned away. Was it her imagination, or did Angela prefer not to talk about her personal life? Maybe she’d been laid off from a job like so many people these days and had been forced to develop an at-home business. Or maybe she did something besides graphic design and didn’t care to discuss the details. Whatever her issues, it was obvious she wouldn’t say more about this Alfred person.

Had his name on the address been a mistake? Or did he live with her, and Angela didn’t want to admit to having a lover? Who else could he be? Certainly not a son. People would have seen the kid going to school. But they’d also have seen a man coming and going from her house. So Angela was probably right about the mail having a mistaken name on it.

Anyway, Angela wasn’t her focus. Heading outdoors, she scanned the group of women, wondering who she could ask about association business and Krabber’s role in it.

“Marla, over here!” A woman waved. “Is this how you want things arranged?”

Marla bustled over to her section. “You should ask Debbie. She’s the one who suggested the groupings, but this looks appealing to me.” One table held silver items like serving spoons and candlesticks and bread plates. Another displayed dinner plates and bowls and miscellaneous dishware.

Someone jostled her arm as she roved by the kitchen gadgets. A heavy-set lady, sweat beading her brow, waddled past to peer at the display.

“Excuse me, but we haven’t officially opened yet.” Marla glanced at her watch. “Please get in line. It’s only another ten minutes.”