The Diva Digs up the Dirt (5 page)

Clearly not adept at hiding her initial reactions, Mindy looked as though she had taken a bite of a luscious éclair only to find glue inside. Her head bobbed with shock. She recovered quickly, forcing her thin lips into a smile as the crowd applauded and whistled.

An elbow poked me in the ribs. Nina stood beside me and cocked her head toward the woods in the back of the house.

A woman had dressed to blend with the dark greens and shadows of the trees. Oversized sunglasses and a dark straw hat concealed her face. If the sun hadn’t reflected off a shiny belt buckle, I never would have seen her there.

“Think it’s Olive spying on the party?” Olive generally avoided black-tie events and anything involving a crowd. The hat and sunglasses prevented me from identifying her, but I couldn’t imagine that anyone else would want to linger on the fringes of the party.

Nina nudged me and whispered. “Look again.”

Behind the royal purple spikes of a butterfly bush, I spotted a man dressed to blend in with the trees. His dark green T-shirt and trousers hid him well. Only his sandy hair gave him away.

“Not there!” hissed Nina.

How many people wanted to spy on Roscoe’s picnic? My eyes breezed past the man in green and the woman in the hat until I picked up Nina’s target.

Mona’s colorful outfit almost blended with the huge blue and purple blossoms of a cluster of hydrangeas. “You don’t think she’s following us?” I asked.

Nina heaved a sigh. “It’s a little peculiar that she happened to turn up here, don’t you think?”

I thought exactly that. I knew she would turn out to be one of those dogged people.

When we were indulging in ice cream sundaes, mine sweet pink peppermint with heavenly fudge sauce, Nina ever so casually asked Francie, “So how is Olive?”

“She can’t believe that business about the bed-and-breakfast. That was her dream, not Mindy’s.”

I grinned at Nina. Evidently it
was
Olive whom we saw lurking in the woods behind the house. “That explains Mindy’s horror. It’s probably not the life for everyone.”

After most of the guests departed, I took a little stroll through the gardens collecting trash. Why would anyone throw paper napkins on the lawn? I paid little attention to murmuring voices until I heard a sob. Through a cluster of bamboo, I could see into a private garden. Two white wicker chairs sat comfortably side by side, adorned with seat cushions that matched the blue delphiniums and hydrangea behind them. Although Roscoe never served alcohol at his picnics, a pitcher and drinks that looked suspiciously like mint juleps dominated a white table spread with a Battenburg lace cloth. An ice cream sundae melted next to a slice of watermelon. I imagined Olive had spent many happy hours there. She probably never dreamed that she might someday find her son there—with his arms around Mindy, his new stepmother. Yet I could swear that’s what I was seeing.

Waves of guilt pelted me for spying. Whatever was going on was none of my business. Feeling like I’d seen something I shouldn’t have, I lowered my head and tiptoed away.

I took a long, hot shower that night to wash the dreadful stench out of my hair. Poor Roscoe and Mindy would have
to live with the smell. It was after midnight when I wandered out to my own garden wearing flip-flops and an oversized T-shirt that came to my knees. I carried a cool, refreshing lemon drop to drink and had Mochie on a leash. At the table where Nina and I had sat in the morning, I relaxed with my feet up and watched Mochie sniff nighttime delights. He pawed at fireflies while Daisy explored and I basked in a balmy summertime-and-the-livin’-is-easy atmosphere. The manure nightmare was over, and except for lunch with Roscoe, I had two blissful weeks of nothing to do. I drank in the scent of lavender.

But my thoughts kept veering to all the little tasks that needed to be done. I could finally tackle the renovation of my bathrooms. No! I deserved a couple of weeks of lounging. No major projects. No drudge work. I would take in a movie. Even better, maybe a play. I could finally spend some quality time with Wolf. We could take some short trips to the mountains or the beach. It seemed like Wolf and I were always in a hurry. Being too busy for each other had led to the eventual demise of my marriage to Mars. I wasn’t going to let another relationship go down that path.

Every time we sat out here, Wolf spoke wistfully of an old Blaze climbing rose in his yard that had died. Now that I was a lady of leisure, I thought it would be a nice gesture to surprise him by planting one where his had died. That wasn’t a big project. It would only take a couple of hours and would give me pleasure to boot.

I woke early, earlier than I wanted, to someone pounding the brass knocker on my front door. I forced one eye open and looked at the clock. Six? I was on vacation. I rolled over, but the pounding continued.

With great reluctance, I slung on a thin cotton bathrobe and stumbled down the steps. I opened the door to find Leon, Natasha’s assistant, in the street, waving his arms. Ever since he showed up at my Halloween party dressed as Frodo, the hobbit, I had trouble seeing him as anything
else. Leon loved food almost as much he loved gossip. Unfortunately, he wasn’t particularly good at hiding his emotions. His expressive face told all. Like a kindly hobbit, he would give away his last bit of food to a hungry child or dog.

Chubby Leon looked over at me and ran back to my stoop, panting heavily. “I had nothing to do with this. I didn’t even know about it until five minutes ago. Change clothes and do your hair. Now!”

The words had barely left his mouth when Leon shrieked. “They’re here! How do I look?”

The rumbling of a large engine drowned his words. An
eighteen-wheeler truck rolled toward us, overwhelming the narrow old street. It stopped before my house, blocking early traffic. Green and blue covered the side of the truck in an abstract version of grass and sky. Brightly colored flowers and leafy trees formed a frame for the words “
Tear It up with Troy!
”

Nina ran across the street to me, and Francie joined us from next door. Of course, this was the one time Nina wasn’t wearing one of her elegant silk bathrobes. I didn’t even know she owned green yoga pants, much less ones that were so unbecoming and appeared to have been partly shredded by a cat. Her boxy shirt didn’t do much for her, either. Her hair bushed out to the side in a bad case of bed head. Francie was no better. I hadn’t seen a housedress like Francie’s since I was a child. From the looks of it, she might have worn it when I was a child. She wore kneesocks and shabby bedroom slippers on her feet.

Troy, whom I recognized from his popular TV show, bounded out of the truck. The person who coined the phrase
tall, dark, and handsome
must have meant this guy. Athletically slender, he wore an intentional scruffy shadow of a beard. He pushed back masses of tousled coal black hair, revealing the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen.

Spellbound, Nina, Francie, and I stared in silence. He flashed us an easy smile.

I spluttered, “Tha, tha…”

Nina gently smacked me without taking her eyes off of him. “She, she, um, she…”

“Hubba, hubba!” said Francie. “If I were ten years younger…”

Thankfully, Leon hadn’t lost his ability to speak. He trotted to Troy and squeaked, “You’re him! I mean, he’s you! I mean… Well, I’m just your biggest fan. I can’t believe you’re here!”

Troy turned his dazzling smile on Leon. “Troy Garner.” He extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Leon pumped Troy’s hand. “Stay here. Right here. I
have to get my camera. You’ll take a picture with me, won’t you?”

“Sure thing. Do you know Sophie Bauer?”

Leon aimed his forefinger at me.

Troy slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks!”

Nina gripped my arm. The closer Troy came, the tighter her fingers clenched. His stunning smile paralyzed us like deer in headlights.

“Which one of you lovely ladies is Sophie Bauer?”

Francie giggled and offered the back of her hand as though she expected him to kiss it.

He did. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophie. I understand you need a garage!”

“Yes. Yes, I do!” said Francie.

At that moment Natasha made her grand entrance, dashing across the street and fluttering into our midst, ending our besotted daze. Unlike Nina and Francie, Natasha was camera ready, her hair coiffed and her face perfect in what I suspected was full TV makeup. She wore a tailored white dress, complete with pantyhose and five-inch heels. “Francie! What do you think you’re doing? Cut! Cut! That’s not Sophie.”

Cut?
I’d been so mesmerized by Troy’s blinding good looks that I hadn’t even noticed two guys with cameras.

Natasha stopped just short of pushing Francie out of the way. She flicked her hands at her, like she might at a rabbit in her garden.

In spite of Natasha’s agitation, Troy kept his cool. “You must be Natasha.”

She flipped her black hair over her shoulder and coquettishly touched the silver choker that lay on her neck. Her long, slender legs posed in an ever-self-conscious beauty queen position. She reached both of her hands out to him.

Troy never missed a beat. Evidently used to hugging strange women, he embraced her.

When she released him and patted her hair, Natasha said, “
This
is Sophie.”

Troy blinked at me for one second, then shook my hand and introduced himself. “I hear you need a garage.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I didn’t have a garage, but I had seen his show.
Tear It Up
was exactly what he did.

Natasha called, “Cut! Cut!” She tilted her head like a confused puppy. “You’re supposed to act happy, Sophie.” She sighed and turned her attention to Troy. “Are people always this clueless?”

I glared at Natasha before directing my attention to Troy. “Hold everything. I don’t quite understand what’s going on here.”

Troy beamed like he thought I was the most charming woman in the world.
No wonder he had a TV show.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and bent his head to speak with me. “Sophie, sweetheart, we’re going to rip out your backyard and give you the garage you so desperately need.”

I scooted out of his grasp. “That’s what I was afraid of. I like my garden.”

“Sophie!” Natasha spoke as though she was scolding a child. “Don’t be impolite.”

Seizing the moment, I held out my hands, gesturing toward Natasha. “There you go. Tear up Natasha’s yard.”

Oh, the priceless mixture of astonishment and fury on her face!

“No!” she protested. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. I already have a garage.”

Troy’s dazzling smile had disappeared. He looked up and down the street and cast an appraising eye over me. “I thought Natasha said you come home late at night because of your job and that you have to park blocks away and walk to your house alone.”