Part 4 (1/2)
When everyone laughed, even the quiet, shy Charity, Seth relaxed.
He could feel Felicity watching him, but he couldn't manage to take his eyes off Missy. She had to be the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, every feature on her face perfect, and her body was bad, really bad. He hated to admit it, but the first thing he had noticed about her, after her gorgeous face and mane of blond hair, was her big b.o.o.bs. He might be a preacher's son and the grandson of a church elder, but he was human and couldn't help it if a girl's b.r.e.a.s.t.s fascinated him.
Felicity leaned against him, her long, straight black hair brus.h.i.+ng his arm, her actions demanding his attention. When he glanced at her, he realized she was practically in his face.
”Why don't you come home with us?” Felicity asked. ”Mom will fix us all lunch, and then you and I can study for our American History test together.”
”I don't know.” Think of some excuse other than your grandmother is expecting you to come home. Think of some excuse other than your grandmother is expecting you to come home. ”I sort of promised Tyler that we'd hang out together later today.” ”I sort of promised Tyler that we'd hang out together later today.”
”So call him and invite him over. Mom won't mind. She loves for us to have company, doesn't she, Charity?” When her sister didn't respond, Felicity punched the back of her sister's seat.
”Uh, no, Mother won't mind at all,” Charity said.
”I'm going home with Charity and spending the afternoon,” Missy told him. ”I don't like to disturb my father when he's busy working on a sermon.”
”I...uh...sure, thanks, I'd like to have lunch with y'all.” Liar. You don't want to have lunch with all of them, only with Missy. Liar. You don't want to have lunch with all of them, only with Missy. ”But I need to give Nana a quick call, so she won't worry. You know how grandmothers are.” ”But I need to give Nana a quick call, so she won't worry. You know how grandmothers are.”
Seth fumbled in his pocket and managed to retrieve his phone without dropping it. Please, G.o.d, let Nana answer and not Granddad. Please, G.o.d, let Nana answer and not Granddad. Nana wouldn't give him a hard time about not coming straight home. He understood that Granddad was strict with him for his own good, just as his own dad would have been. But sometimes he wished his grandfather could remember what it was like to be nearly sixteen. Nana wouldn't give him a hard time about not coming straight home. He understood that Granddad was strict with him for his own good, just as his own dad would have been. But sometimes he wished his grandfather could remember what it was like to be nearly sixteen.
Cathy looked at the address written on the notepad: 121 West Fourth Street. This had to be a mistake. That was the address for the old Perdue house. Hadn't Mona mentioned something about that house being empty, that it had been up for sale for nearly six months? Maybe someone had bought the place, and the new owner needed interior-decorating advice, an extra service they provided at Treasures of the Past Antiques and Interiors.
”Is something wrong?” Ruth Ann Harper asked. ”You have the strangest expression on your face.”
Cathy forced a smile. She liked Ruth Ann, who was married to Lorie's cousin, the local First Baptist Church's minister. Ruth Ann had been working part-time helping Lorie with the antique shop while Cathy had been at Haven Home.
”No, nothing's wrong. I was just puzzled by the address. I didn't realize anyone had bought the old Perdue house.” Cathy looked right at Ruth Ann. ”Are you sure you wrote down the correct address?”
”Yes, I'm sure.”
”And Lorie told you to ask me to meet with the client at four-thirty this afternoon at this address?”
”Yes.” Ruth Ann looked puzzled. ”When she phoned from the auction in Fayetteville, I told her about the gentleman who had called and asked if y'all could help him with decorating his house. He said it was an old Victorian, that he was having some restoration work done on the place and he didn't know anything about decorating.”
”Did he happen to tell you his name and if he and his wife would be meeting with me or...?”
”He didn't mention a wife. And come to think of it, he didn't give me his name. I think he thought I knew who he was. How, I don't know. Local gossip, maybe.”
”I see. And you told Lorie which house it was? You mentioned the address to her, right?”
”Well, actually, no, I don't think I mentioned the address. I just told her what the man had said, and she told me to ask you to meet with him since she wouldn't make it back from the auction by four-thirty.”
”Oh.”
”Is there a problem of some kind?”
Cathy shook her head. ”No, no problem at all.” She checked her wrist.w.a.tch. ”I'd better leave now since it's already four-twenty. Would you mind closing up today? It would save me from having to come back instead of going straight home. Seth is coming for dinner tonight.”
”He's such a fine young man. So well mannered and friendly,” Ruth Ann said. ”He was at the house today for lunch. He came by with my girls and their friend Missy after exams. I think my youngest has a major crush on him. And G.o.d knows he'd be a wonderful influence on her. I'm afraid Felicity is going through a rebellious stage.”
”Good for her.”
Cathy didn't realize she had spoken out loud until she saw the surprised expression on Ruth Ann's face. Her dark eyes widened, and her mouth opened in a half-smile/half-frown, as if she was uncertain how to take Cathy's comment.
”I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about with either of your girls, not with the wonderful example you and John Earl have always set for them. I just think it's good to allow teenagers to think for themselves and for them not to always be expected to do everything their parents want them to do.”
”Actually, I agree with you. Despite the slight embarra.s.sment Felicity's tattoos, outlandish makeup and black attire cause us, John Earl and I believe that allowing her the freedom to express herself will help her grow up to be her own person, a young woman we'll be quite proud of.”
”You're very wise. Your girls are so lucky to have a mother like you.” Cathy took the car keys out of her purse, hung the strap over her shoulder and headed for the back door. ”See you tomorrow.”
Ruth Ann waved as Cathy left the shop.
She paused beneath the metal canopy over the door and looked up at the gray sky. The morning's heavy rain had left puddles of standing water. The light drizzle falling now wasn't discernible to the eye, but when she walked toward her parked SUV, she felt the light moisture misting her face.
With her consent, her in-laws had sold Mark's Lexus and put the money in Seth's college fund, and they had given Cathy's ten-year-old Jeep Cherokee to Elaine, who had stored it in her garage.
”I had it serviced for you when I found out you were coming home,” her mother had told her. ”I wasn't sure if you'd be driving, but I a.s.sumed you would. After all, you wouldn't have left that place if you weren't completely well, would you?”
Ignoring the comment about her mental health, Cathy had simply said ”Thank you, Mother,” taken the keys and left. One of the many truths she had accepted while at Haven Home was the fact that Elaine Nelson would never change. She couldn't change her mother, but she could change the way she reacted to her.
Cathy slid behind the wheel, started the engine and sat there in the alley behind the antique shop. During the eight days she had been back in Dunmore, she had met and survived several challenges. Not allowing her mother to intimidate her had actually been easier than she'd thought it would be. But facing her in-laws had not been easy, nor had accepting the fact that she would have to regain her son's trust before she could fight the Cantrells for custody. One of the lesser challenges had been forcing herself to pretend she didn't hear the whispers or notice the curious stares when she attended Sunday morning services yesterday. And whenever a customer commented about her year away and how horrible it must have been in that place, that place, she simply forced a smile and told them it was wonderful to be home and back at work. she simply forced a smile and told them it was wonderful to be home and back at work.
Of all the challenges that she had known she would face and could deal with, helping the new owner decorate the old Perdue house had not been one of them.
You can do this. It's just a house. Mr. and Mrs. Reaves are both dead. Maleah lives somewhere in the Knoxville area. And Jack...
She gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled strength.
”Jackson Perdue.” There, she'd said his name aloud, and the earth hadn't opened up and swallowed her. G.o.d hadn't struck her dead. ”Jack.” She spoke his name softly.
Cathy wasn't surprised that Jack and Maleah had sold their mother's house, considering how much they had both hated their stepfather and how quickly they had both left home when each had turned eighteen. They had returned briefly for their mother's funeral five years ago. She had caught a glimpse of them, from the back of the church, when she had slipped in and sat in the very last pew. She hadn't spoken to either of them at the church and hadn't gone to the cemetery or to the house.
Cathy put the SUV in reverse, backed up and drove down the alley to the side street. On the short drive from Main Street, where their shop was located, to West Fourth, she wondered about the people who had bought the old house. Were they a young couple, middle-aged or elderly? Were they locals or people from another town or even another state?
When she parked in the gravel drive at 121 West Fourth, she noticed the door to the carriage house stood wide open. The interior of the in-need-of-repair structure was bare to the bones. Apparently the new owners had already started clearing out things in preparation for the renovations. She got out of the Jeep and searched for the owner's vehicle, but didn't see one. Was it possible the potential client had forgotten about their appointment? If no one was here, she could wait for them, but not for long. Seth was coming to Lorie's tonight for dinner. Nothing, not even a rich client, was more important.
As she made her way to the sidewalk, her leather high heels marring up in the wet ground, she inspected the three-story house, one of several Victorian painted ladies that still graced the downtown streets of Dunmore. How dark and dreary this place looked, the gray paint peeling, the faded white shutters in need of repair, the wide porch empty. She rang the doorbell.
Seconds ticked by and quickly turned into minutes.
She rang the doorbell again.
Silence.