Hidden Hills (5 page)
Authors: Jannette Spann
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Supper came from leftovers, but the kitchen was still a mess. He loaded the dishwasher, wiped the table, and tossed the dirty towels into the laundry hamper while the older boys finished their homework. The afternoon's distraction had been a welcome change from their usual routine. Instead of the toddler pestering his brothers, Jake found him at the living room window with his nose pressed against the glass. At first glance, Andy appeared to be watching the stray cat searching for mice under the hedges, but then he saw the tears on his cheeks.
“What's wrong, son?” Jake asked, crouching beside him.
“When Mama come home?”
He hugged him, breathing in the faint scent of pine and honeysuckles still lingering in his hair and clothes, a sure sign of Charlotte getting her hugs in. Andy didn't know what it was like to have a mother. The older boys had memories, but his baby had nothing.
“Mama's in heaven. She's not coming back.”
Andy's head bobbed. “Uh-huh! Her bring Maggie back.”
“No, she⦔ Jake stopped. It hadn't occurred to him that Andy was watching for Charlotte. “She's the girls' mama, but her name is Charlotte, and that's what we'll call her.”
“Mama Char'it.”
“No, just Charlotte.”
Andy stomped his foot. “Mama Char'it!”
“She's not your mama, Andy,” he said, losing his patience at the first sign of a temper tantrum. “Charlotte and the girls are our neighbors. They'll live in their house, and we'll still live in ours.”
“I go see her?”
“If you're a good boy.”
“I be good. I like Char'it.”
“Yeah,” Jake agreed, concerned his three-year-old might get too attached. “She's nice. I like her too.”
Jeremy deserted his books. “You know what, Dad? It'll be cool having Charlotte next door. Did you know she works two jobs? And she says I can babysit sometimes and earn extra money⦠if it's okay with you and I keep my grades up.”
“You hate babysitting.”
“Yeah, but I like making money.”
Something in the boy's babbling clicked â two jobs. Now why would a lawyer's widow need to work two jobs, especially with small children? There should have been a boatload of insurance. Of course, she could have blown the wad on â on what?
It was his job to know clothes, and while hers had been of good quality, they'd seen better days. He pictured the porcelain skin with the perfectly arched brows and clear green eyes, adorned by the longest lashes in town. Hers was a natural beauty, not the high maintenance type of woman he dealt with on a daily basis.
“What else did she say?”
Jeremy shrugged as if he'd already lost interest in the subject. “She likes chocolate.”
“Most people do.”
“Dad,” Bruce said, not wanting to be left out. “Becky says they live in a big house, and they've got a swimming pool and a creek in the yard. Boy, if we lived there, I'd never want to move. We could swim and fish all the time.”
A whiff of Andy's hair was another gentle reminder of Charlotte's closeness. She hadn't been the least bit forthcoming about herself. If Bruce was right and they lived in a ritzy neighborhood, then why would she want to move to Robins Lane? He'd bet money there was more going on than a change of scenery.
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The house came alive after school each day. Jeremy washed windows while the younger boys made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for everyone. Other than their initial battles, Bruce remained a perfect gentleman, and even though she hadn't asked for help, she wasn't about to turn it down either. As for the girls, they'd managed to avoid any more accidents since she'd put the upstairs bathroom off limits and explained in no uncertain terms what would happen if anyone leaned out a window or slid down the banister.
The week flew by with her aching body crying “foul” along the way from the cleaning and packing. Now there was nothing left to do except let the movers in at the other house. She glanced around with pride at a job well done.
Taking the checkbook from her purse, she frowned at the balance. Everything would have to fit into a single load, since it's all she could afford.
Bruce sniffed the air. “You're right, Charlotte.”
“About what?”
“This house. The old people smell is gone.”
She put away her checkbook. “Then we're finished. Let's call it a night.”
“Do we have to?”
“I'm afraid so. Tomorrow's the big day.”
“But, Dad said to keep you here until he got home.”
“Why would he want me to stay?”
The eight-year-old crossed his arms, heaving an exaggerated sigh of the put-upon. “I don't know, but we're in big⦠uh, trouble if you don't.”
Charlotte frowned at the kid. “Oh, yeah? Well, you're in bigger trouble if you don't watch your mouth. Are you guys afraid to stay by yourselves?”
“Shucks no â I mean no, ma'am. We do it all the time.”
She glanced at her watch when Jake came through the door with his feet dragging. He tossed his keys on the counter and picked up his youngest son.
“It's about time!” Bruce said, as if they'd been waiting for hours instead of minutes.
He shifted Andy on his hip. “Sorry I'm late. Can you wait a little longer? There's something in the truck.”
What could he possibly have she might need, other than a million bucks? Since his house appeared to be an updated version of this one, she ruled it out.
It wasn't long before he and the oldest boy brought in a large, cardboard box and set it at the foot of the staircase. Standing up, Jake grabbed his back.
The younger kids gathered around for a closer look, but Bruce backed away, staring at his dad with eyes full of hurt. Was he jealous of the girls? It was understandable, if he feared losing more of his dad's time. From what she'd seen this past week, the poor kid had precious little to spare. Her heart went out to him as memories came to mind of Becky, fighting for Mitch's attention when the foster kids happened to be boys.
“Would someone tell me what's going on?”
“It's a gift,” Jake replied. “Actually, it's a toilet.”
Things costing so much usually had ulterior motives attached. She studied his dark blue eyes, but came up blank. “Well, it's a nice gift, but I'm afraid I can't accept it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it's too expensive.”
“Expensive?” Jake clutched his heart, staggering backward. “It's just a toilet, not a jet plane. Would it make you feel better if I said it was stolen?”
Charlotte shook her head at his ridiculous antics. Jake Weatherman could possibly be the best neighbor in the world, but it didn't change the fact he was a man. To her dismay, he ignored her protest.
Crossing his arms, he rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Girls, would you like a new commode?”
“Sure,” Becky replied. “Mama likes flowers and candy.”
His dimples sank deeper into the lean cheeks as he winked at the girls. “I'll have to remember that, won't I?”
“About the commode.” She pointed to the large box in the hope of getting the subject away from her likes and dislikes. “As I was saying, I can't afford it now, but⦔
“It's not costing you a cent.” The interruption came before she could finish her excuse for not accepting the thing. “Remember, you're renting. I'm sending the bill to John Parker. He's known for years the commode needed replacing. Besides, this was a window display. I was able to get it at a discount.”
She didn't know what to say. Why was it so hard to trust him? “You're sure it's not stolen?”
He burst out laughing. “I'm sure. Haven't you ever given something because it was needed? You've got to be the most skeptical woman I've ever met.”
“Maybe so,” she said, her past a constant reminder. “But I learned a long time ago not to expect something for nothing.”
He shook his head. “Well, this is the exception to the rule. The only catch is you'll have to help me install it.”
“I haven't said⦔
“I'm not listening to your excuses,” he said, interrupting again. “Maggie's running around with her arm in a sling because of the monstrosity upstairs. Now we're installing this commode before somebody else gets hurt.”
He had a point, even if he did have an attitude to go with it. The grin had been replaced by the stubborn resolve a man gets when he knows he's right. Charlotte knew it was time to stop looking her gift horse in the mouth.
“Thank you.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I said thank you.”
“But⦔
She walked away, returning shortly with an old shoebox. Most of Mitch's tools had disappeared shortly after his death, and she'd assumed his father had taken them, but without proof, it was wiser to say nothing and make do with the few she had left. “Here's my toolbox.”
“Never mind,” he said, after seeing her hammer and bent nails. “I've got my own tools.”
“Then we only have one problem left. The kids ate peanut butter sandwiches after school, but it's almost suppertime. They're probably getting hungry.”
The kids giggled when Jake scratched his head, making funny faces while pretending to study the situation. Fingers snapped over his head, indicating the light bulb clicking on, and he reached into his pocket, took out his cellphone and tossed it to Bruce. “You know the number. Order enough pizza for everyone.”
The boy's eyes lit up. “We're going to the Pizza Plate?”
“Not tonight, son. We've got a commode to install.”
The shiny white commode fit the décor in the fifties-style bathroom with its claw tub and pedestal sink. Even the linoleum floor appeared in good shape, except for a slightly worn traffic area. Looking around, she made a mental note to pick up some lace curtains to cover the blinds on her next trip to the thrift store.
“Dad's back with the pizzas. Come on, slowpoke. Everybody's at our house.”
“I'm coming,” she said, using both hands to lift the heavy tool box. She knew from experience how picky Mitch had always been with his tools, so she'd made sure Jake's were all accounted for before closing the lid. It was the least she could do.
The cellphone rang, creating another distraction when she went through the kitchen. Thinking it was the kids, she sat the toolbox on the counter and fished the phone from her pocket. “Hello.”
“Charlotte.”
The distinctive voice of her father-in-law hit a raw nerve. Her eyes rolled. Had she checked the number, she would have ignored the call. Now it was talk to him or risk him showing up on her doorstep again. “How are you?”
“I believe I should be asking you that,” he said, the cultured cadence grating on her nerves like chalk on a blackboard.
“Why?”
”I heard you're leaving Hidden Hills. Is it true?”
“It is,” she replied, wondering how he'd found out since no one, other than Mrs. Wilson and the utility companies, knew she was moving. “I've rented a house in Reader. It's close to the girls' school.”
“That's no reason to move.”
She bit her tongue to keep from telling him to mind his own business. “Look, Judge. My girls need other children to play with.”
“Those girls are fine. You need to focus on your obligations to this family. If you can't afford your mortgage, just how do you plan on paying rent?”
“It's my problem, not yours,” she said, ready to stand her ground. She'd thought long and hard before making her decisions, even though the money she'd save in gas would cover the rent. The last thing she needed was Mitch's arrogant, silver-haired father giving her orders.
“Don't even think about neglecting the mortgage.” His demanding voice was accompanied by what sounded like a fist, pounding on a table. His angry tone had her imagining purple veins popping in his forehead and his blood pressure skyrocketing. “It comes first, and I'll not let you give the impression our family's in financial trouble. Everything you do reflects on me.”
“I'm not neglecting anything.”
“Well, I'd like to know what you call it!”
“Survival.”
“Don't get sassy with me, girl!”
“Then don't preach to me! If you hadn't dangled the fake partnership in front of Mitch, I wouldn't be in this mess.”
“The partnership was real, but he still had to earn it. Nothing is free in this world. It's a concept a little gold-digger like you wouldn't know anything about!”
“Earn it?” she said. “Mitch spent the better part of his life trying to earn your approval. It wasn't until he married me that he realized your approval wasn't worth having!”
“I'm going to ruin you,” he said. “Do you hear me? When I get through with you, nobody will give you the time of day, much less any kind of a loan. You'll be lucky to buy a piece of gum!”
“You do it, old man. And I'll see what I can leak to the local papers.”
“Now you listen to me, young lady,” he said, biting the words out. “I'm running for state senate next year, and I'll not have the family name dragged through the mud. And another thing, don't even think about filing bankruptcy! Do you hear me? Don't even think about it!”
“You old goat! Why don't you leave me alone?”
Charlotte snapped the phone shut before he could start on her other debt, the one he'd claimed was due today. Mitch had told her the money was a gift, a part of his inheritance. She'd known it was a golden carrot dangling in front of his nose to get him to accept his legacy of Hidden Hills. Why had she given in? There would be no freedom from his family until she repaid every cent.
“You'll get no help from me!” Tom McGregor had stated emphatically when she'd asked for his help, shortly after Mitch's death. She'd needed legal advice, not his money. By turning her down, he'd blown his chance. Whatever decisions she made concerning the estate had nothing to do with him.
