Address to Die For (8 page)

When life grows hectic, don't be afraid to hire help. And don't overlook the fact that “hiring help” is a broad-based term. Paying more for appliances from a store that delivers on time, every time, is an efficient choice. Buying ready-to-go meals from the supermarket can be like hiring a part-time cook. Be creative and be gentle with yourself.

 

 

 

 

“I
think it's too soon for a drink,” Tess said. “But would a latte help?”

Much as I wanted to spend the day sipping fancy coffee with Tess and watching the dogs play, I needed to get back to the house.

“Can I have a rain check? I need to pick up Belle and go home.” My voice cracked and I cursed inwardly as I fought off tears I did not want to shed in front of Tess. Our friendship was too new for tears.

Tess pulled a giant tissue box from the backseat and handed it to me. “Spill,” she said. “Words, tears, whatever you need to, but spill. This has got to be about more than a delayed moving van and a cranky principal. What's going on?”

I successfully fought off the tears, but caved and told Tess everything—the dead man in our basement, camping in the barn, the house that wasn't in anywhere near the condition we'd expected, the dangerous electrical box, the exploding mailbox, and the worst thing: that Max wasn't here with me, and wouldn't be around to help for at least a couple of weeks.

Tess frowned, then her face lit up. “I've got it. We'll both go to my house. You grab Belle and get home. I'll pick up coffee and sandwiches and bring them up to you. Briones Hill Road you said, right? Twenty-one eleven? That's the old Wilson Craftsman. I've been dying to get in there for years. I'd kill for the listing too, but if I were you, I wouldn't sell it for the world.”

Tess pulled into her driveway, turned off the car, looked at me, and smiled. “After you show me around, I'll grab your laundry. I'll have it clean and dry by school pickup time, so your kids don't have to go to school naked while you wait for the moving van.”

I hugged Tess. Then I got in my own car, thinking that one of the things I liked about her was that she and April were the only people I'd met in Orchard View who had not tried to give me their business cards.

* * *

Back at the house, I phoned an electrician and arranged for him to give me a quote on bringing our wiring up to code, so we could plug in all of our devices without burning down the house.

Max had donated Aunt Kay's power-hungry 1970s-era appliances to a nonprofit who'd picked them up on Labor Day. I hoped I'd have time tomorrow to order some inexpensive, energy-efficient replacements that could be delivered immediately. I had a list I'd developed with a vendor in Stockton who had given my clients great prices. I hoped to make similar arrangements here.

I headed upstairs to check on Holmes and Watson. Despite the craziness over the weekend, both cats seemed much more comfortable and even the grumpy Holmes was weaving himself around my feet, threatening to trip me. I scratched him behind the ears and he rubbed his cheek against my leg.

“Think you're about ready to come out of the closet, Mr. Holmes? How 'bout if I leave the door open and give you a little more room to explore?”

Watson bounded off an upper shelf and raced around the bedroom as soon as I opened the door. She chased an invisible monster from one corner to the next. After a few laps around the room, she jumped up on a window seat to lick her paws in a thin patch of late-morning sun.

Sun. Solar panels. We wanted to think about putting solar panels on the south-facing barn roof. Bills for heating a house this old were going to be enormous, even with our plan to repair or replace the windows and add insulation. There was so much to do. Refinishing the floors and getting rid of the dark curtains, painting, repairing the gutters and roof, re-graveling the drive, trimming trees, and... and... and...

Belle barked, announcing Tess's arrival.

“It's open,” I called from the bedroom window. “I'll be right down.”

I gave Watson a quick scratch behind the ears and told her to look after her brother. I shut the bedroom door and dashed downstairs to greet Tess.

Tess stood in the kitchen with a grocery bag and two large cups of designer coffee. She turned to greet me, still wearing her “at-home Tess” garb.

“I brought milk, but you have no refrigerator.”

“It's on my list, along with about a hundred other items.” I pointed to her clothes. “I thought you didn't leave the house like that?”

“Mostly. But no one notices me when I dress like this. They're so used to seeing the taller, trimmer, better-dressed Tess, they ignore me. It's the hide-in-plain sight phenomenon, I guess, and a corollary to the rule that says people see what they expect to see.”

Tess shrugged and put the groceries on the counter. She handed me a coffee cup and sat on the bottom step of the back stairs.

“This place is amazing. I can't believe you get to live here,” she said.

“I'm starting to feel the same way, but it's been a rough couple of days.”

Tess nodded and scanned the kitchen's pressed tin ceiling.

“I've got a list of some of the projects that need doing,” I said. “Would you mind taking a look and telling me the best way to get them done? I could do this in a flash in Stockton, but I'm out of my depth here. I started a list of contacts as soon as I knew we were moving, but I'm guessing you already know the best people through your own business.”

She stood up and walked through the pantry to the dining room. “I think I can do better than that, Maggie. Can you and the boys stand to live in the barn a few more days?”

I blushed. Living in a barn was losing its charm for me.

Tess turned toward me and smiled. “
If
you can stay in the barn, and put off the movers for a day or two, I can get a team in here to clean and wax the paneling and refinish the floors—even paint if you want. Adelia will give you a fair price and her team does quality work.”

Tess looked from the heavy oak mantle and window seats to the simple but elegant molding, and then at the built-in cabinets and window seat on the landing halfway up the front stairs. Her face lit with a slow smile.

“One of the wonderful things about a job like this is how quickly it will go from looking run-down to becoming a showplace.”

I frowned.
Showplace
was the term Aunt Kay's lawyer had used for the house, and Tess's use of the same word brought back a wave of the disappointment and frustration I'd felt when we'd arrived. The last thing I wanted was a house where my family and friends were afraid to track in a little dirt or put their feet up.

Tess interpreted my frown immediately. As a Realtor, empathy was probably an important part of her job.

“Oh, not a
show
place,” she said. “But gleaming in a way that will let you enjoy its best features. The architect designed this house for a family with comfort in mind. You're going to love it here, Maggie.” Tess twirled with enthusiasm, spilling coffee on her sweatshirt and the floor.

She sat on the bottom step, held out her hand and snapped her fingers.

“Let's have a look at that list of yours. I'll make a bunch of calls and get things moving.”

Tess made calls that I was afraid had started a tsunami, but it felt great to have someone else in charge for a moment and be tugged along in her confident wake. She grabbed a black leather bag, pulled out a measuring tape, and started shouting out numbers for me to copy into her red leather notebook.

I scribbled down the numbers as fast as I could. She made me read them back to her while she double-checked them.

Later, with her book full of measurements and her arms full of our dirty laundry, Tess loaded up her car. Before she left, she barked out more orders. “Adelia and her team will be here within thirty minutes. Supervise them as little as possible and make the rest of your phone calls. Adelia will update you on the schedule after they get here.”

“How much is this costing me?” I asked. It sounded like magic and I had no idea what the going price was for sorcery in Silicon Valley.

“Adelia will give you an estimate when she arrives, but I guarantee you wouldn't be able to do it yourself for much less than she'll charge you. And it would certainly take you much longer.” She winked and said, “Trust me.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “We'll see.” But I was kidding. Much of what Tess was doing for me was similar to what I often did for my own clients. I felt a twinge of guilty pleasure at putting myself in the capable hands of someone whose expertise and professionalism rivaled my own.

Tess laughed, climbed in her car, and rolled down the window. “Let's get coffee in the morning and take the dogs to the park. I'll show you around town.”

I nodded and waved. She rolled up the window and flogged her fancy BMW down the bumpy drive.

I grabbed my sandwich and the rest of my coffee, took them to the front porch, and sat in the shade. The coffee was lukewarm, but just as tasty as it had been with that first sip. Belle flopped next to me and fell asleep, exhausted from her romp with Mozart. I checked my watch and my notes on school-dismissal times. I didn't understand why Silicon Valley people complained about traffic and air quality but could find no money for school buses. I shrugged. I couldn't fix that problem today.

Today, I needed to move the cats to the barn bathroom before Adelia and her army arrived, but I had time to tap out a short email to Max before I picked up the kids.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what Max might be doing right now. Sleeping, if I had the time zones right.

I tried to recapture the image Tess had given me of our house with gleaming floors, polished wood, and fully repaired shining windows. The magic had left with Tess. My imagination was good, but not that good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you're spending all your time in the car, make the car work for you. Stock water and healthy snacks. Load a plastic bin with homework helpers: papers, pencils, calculator, scissors, markers, and tape. Children waiting for siblings can use the time to recharge and do homework.

 

 

 

 

A
n hour later, Adelia's team arrived and began sanding the floors with four giant machines. Tess must have warned Adelia about the sketchy electricity because each sander connected to one of two generators with a long orange cord. The sound was deafening. The tripping danger was huge.

Another team washed the windows on the outside. Adelia had more helpers pulling weeds, sweeping up leaves, and cleaning the gutters. A fourth team replaced the broken windows, cut new boards to fix the damaged planks on the front porch, and repaired the sagging screens.

At the rate they were moving, they'd have the house remodeled by the time I picked up the boys. The house filled with happy energy as they shouted and teased each other over the sound of the sanders, driving out some of the sadness from Mr. Hernandez's death. That thought led to the fact that I still hadn't heard whether the medical examiner had ruled his death a murder, an accident, or an unfortunate natural death.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of the high school to wait for David. I was early, so I called the housing inspector both Jason and Tess had recommended. After so many unpleasant surprises, I wanted to make sure that Max and I knew everything the house needed before we got too far ahead of ourselves. Making the house comfortable and safe was one thing. Going into debt over renovations that could wait was another. The inspector agreed to meet me on Saturday at noon.

I'd just ended the call when David climbed into the passenger seat. Belle licked his face as though he'd been gone a year. I handed him a bottle of water and a granola bar.

I checked over my shoulder to avoid running over any kids or absentminded parents, pulled out of my parking spot, and headed to the middle school to repeat the pickup process there.

“How was it?” I asked David, whose backpack bulged with books and other lumps and bumps I couldn't identify. “Do you have much homework?”

“Some, but it's not too bad. Is all our stuff unloaded from the moving van? Our first P.E. unit is swimming and I need to find my board shorts.” David reached into his backpack. He grabbed some forms and shoved them in my face. I pushed his arm back so I could see the road, then showed him the dish tub I'd put on the floor between the two front seats to hold the forms I needed to review and sign for the kids and the house.

“I need them signed right away, Mom,” David said. “I want to take marching band zero period. I'll have to be here at quarter to seven every morning. We'll have all-day practices on Saturdays. Afternoon practices on Tuesday and Thursday. Maybe some trumpet sectionals.”

“Wow, when did this happen?” I wondered how David, who could have qualified for the Olympic Sleeping Team, was going to drag himself out of bed early enough to be showered, breakfasted, dressed, and at school by 6:45 each morning. And how would he stay awake in his classes?

“In concert band. The other kids asked me to join.”

“It's a huge commitment,” I said. “I don't want you dropping out because you change your mind and want to sleep in.”

David rolled his eyes. “I know this speech, Mom. I'll stick with it. It's music with other musicians. It's trumpet. Sign the papers.”

I pulled up in front of the middle school and chose a space in a far corner of the parking lot—away from the spot Pauline Windsor had laid claim to. I'd have to ask Tess about that. Were there really assigned spots, or was Pauline one of the odd parents with entitlement issues who crop up in every school?

“Here, Mom. Sign the papers,” said David.

I took the papers and looked them over. There was a long list of expenses for shoes, uniform cleaning, buses, gloves, and T-shirts, but it didn't look too bad. David still had the trumpet he'd played since fifth grade, so we could skip the instrument rental or purchase costs. Those predawn hours could be a problem, though. I didn't think I'd have time to drop off David and go home to pick up Brian and get him to school before the first bell. If David joined marching band, we'd all be forced into the same predawn schedule. Decisions involving the whole family were the sort of thing I'd ordinarily discuss with Max, but this issue was too big to explain with email, and I didn't want Max to feel guilty. If he were here, one of us could take David and one of us could take Brian. The schedule wouldn't be an issue.

“Mom, sign the papers.” David waved a pen in my face.

“David, stop,” I said, snatching the pen from his hand and tossing it in the dish tub. “I hear that you want to do marching band. I hear that you're committed, but this decision will have a huge impact on our family and I need to think about it.”

“I signed you up to make brownies for Saturday.”

“David . . .” I sighed. “Honey, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Marching band demands a lot of students
and
their families. We don't have a working oven and you signed me up to bring brownies?”

David started to protest, but I cut him off. “I'm willing to buy brownies, so that's not a problem, but there will be other requests for parent help, and I'm up to my ears with the move and renovations, and getting Simplicity Itself off the ground again. If it's important to you, we'll find a way to make it work, but it's not the slam-dunk decision you seem to think it is. Do you think you can find a carpool to help out?”

I flipped through the papers in the tub. I was going to have nightmares about drowning in paper. Paper that turned into bats and house-wrecking vandals, no doubt.

“You said something about a bathing suit,” I said. “When do you need it?”

David shrugged. “Right away. We started P.E. today, Mom. It shouldn't take me too long to find it, though. I know what box it's in.”

“That's good, honey, but the movers can't get here until Thursday and I'm hoping to push them back to Friday or even Saturday. You won't have your swimsuit until Monday.”

“Seriously?”

“If we have to buy a new swimsuit, we'll do that,” I said. “But if you know you won't have pool time until Monday, that would save us a trip to the store.”

“Let me ask my friends,” David said, picking up his phone and typing. “I got some numbers at lunch.”

I smiled, delighted that David had new friends already. “If you want to invite any of them over . . .” I began.

“How 'bout we wait until we have a fridge,” David answered, rolling his eyes. “Look, there's Bri. Looks like he's had a good day too.”

Brian was in the middle of a knot of boys carrying instrument cases, shoving each other, and laughing. I'd fought for band for him this morning, knowing it was one of the fastest ways for him to make friends. Now David was asking me to do the same thing for him.

A rapid-fire series of
ping
s erupted from David's cell phone. He bent over it, thumbs flying as he texted back.

“Board shorts can wait until Monday,” he said, still typing. “I've got a ride home from practice on Saturday.”

One advantage of having so many things go wrong this week was that I'd learned I needed to become better at accepting help and asking for it, especially from the kids. I needed to remember that anything could be fixed and that I couldn't manage everything on my own. I was making new friends and breaking new ground, just like the kids. So was Max. What we were going through wasn't
all
bad. It was, in fact, exactly the change Max and I had been looking for.
Be careful what you wish for
was another one of Aunt Kay's favorite sayings.

I signed David's band form and handed it to him. “As long as you can be flexible and promise to help as much as you can when you're not in band, we'll make it work.”

David shoved the form in his backpack and beamed at me.

Brian flung open the car door. “The coolest thing happened after lunch,” he said, climbing in, dropping his backpack on the floor and buckling his seat belt.

“Right after lunch, a porta-potty exploded—the one at the construction site next to school. What a stink! There was sh- well, you know,
stuff
, everywhere. Harrier was furious, but all us kids couldn't stop laughing. The fire department came to clean it up.”

“But what happened? How?” I started.

I handed Brian his water and granola bar and started the car. “Do they know who did it?”

“That's all anyone talked about the rest of the day,” Brian said. “But no one was about to rat anyone out. The police talked to a few kids, but I don't know if they found out anything.”

Two explosions, one in our mailbox and another at the school. That was too much of a coincidence for me. I needed to call Jason and see if he thought there was a connection. And I needed to ask Tess about it too. She would know if there were usual suspects at the middle school. I had to remember to ask her about the funding issues too. But that could wait until we walked the dogs tomorrow.

I told the boys we'd be sleeping in the barn for at least another night. They didn't seem to mind. Apparently, camping still held charms for them that were lost on me. But the prospect of gleaming floors sustained me. All I wanted was to settle my family into the house and the town. I felt as though I'd been trying to do that for days and not getting any closer to my goal. Now, the goal was in sight, at least in terms of the house. But I couldn't help feeling unsettled. And it wasn't because we were new to town and living in the barn. With the sabotage at our house and the school, a man dead by accident or misadventure, and the mysterious school-funding issues, I feared Orchard View might not be the rural escape Max and I had hoped it would be.