A Dollhouse to Die For (A Deadly Notions Mystery) (22 page)

Angus and I stood there with our mouths hanging open.

“Jeez, Angus, he doesn’t even realize when I’m being sarcastic anymore.”

My best friend of the male variety shook his head sadly. “If you need to take a shower, come on over to my place, but you can use this downstairs powder room to wash up in the meantime. The leak in the pipe is above this level, so it’ll be okay. I’ll help Wayne replace the stack on Monday. He’s knocking off for the day now.”

“Miller time?”

He nodded.

“Thanks so much, Angus.” I gave him the biggest, tightest hug I could manage around his mountain man physique. He was helping with the work purely out of the goodness of his heart in order to make the project go faster.

After Wayne and Angus packed up their stuff, I slumped down at the kitchen table, depression gnawing at me. I’d have to get my merchandise out of Sometimes a Great Notion soon, as I wouldn’t put it past Rosenthal to change the locks before the deadline, but I couldn’t bring myself to go to the store now.

I decided what I needed was a good long walk.

I put on my hiking boots, down jacket, and woolen scarf. It was another cold, but bright and sunny afternoon, and Jasper danced along beside me, delirious with excitement. He was going to miss these country adventures when Sarah finished filming and brought him back to the city. I bit my lip, not wanting to think about that now, on top of everything else.

We took the path through the end of the Browns’ property, saying hi to Georgia, who was basking in the sunlight, and plunged into the woods, walking along trails covered in a thick bed of rust-colored pine needles. Ferns lined the way, and there were enough smells from hidden wildlife that Jasper was a sniffing machine, dragging me along as if I were holding on to a ski tow.

There wasn’t another soul on the path. Out of the sunlight, the temperature dropped at least ten degrees, and I was glad of my warm coat. We passed the ruins of someone’s long-ago house. A piece of one fieldstone wall was still standing, and the stone slabs on the ground showed the base of a fireplace. I wondered who had lived out here in the middle of the woods. Perhaps an artist looking for solitude, one of the many for which Bucks County was renowned. Or maybe it was one of the old mill worker’s homes.

The terrain sloped up, and I fought for breath as we negotiated a rocky slope. Jasper, who had dragged me nonstop along the flat, now walked obediently at heel. I gritted my teeth as we crested the top, and headed down the other side, past boulders littered over what might have been a lake bed at one time. The trees thinned out and I could hear the creek.

When we reached it, we walked alongside the swiftly moving water, where piles of twigs and branches had washed up along its sides. In an eddy formed by a couple of gray boulders, I watched the water lap over the mossy rocks beneath. I bet it would be fun in the summer to sift through the mud here and see if there were any remains of broken pottery from the mill. One tree had fallen into the creek, and lay with its roots half exposed, but amazingly, still alive.

Lastly we came to the crumbling mill itself with its accompanying outbuildings, now nearly engulfed by climbing vines. The holes where the windows used to be were like sightless eyes that let me see straight through the stone walls to the trees behind.

It was late by the time we got to Ringing Springs Park. A mile and a half in country terms sure felt like a lot longer. I wondered if Alice had just guessed at the distance, or had ever actually walked it herself.

The wine club was already packing up their coolers and throwing a few bottles into the recycle can. Jasper said hello to several of his friends and then, too soon, it was time to turn around and go back.

The light was fading, and I’d need to hurry it up, despite my aching legs. I didn’t fancy being alone in the woods in the dark. Despite the precarious state of my finances, I wished I’d brought the car. I dug in my pockets, but of course I hadn’t remembered to bring my cell phone either. All I had were a few dog treats and some empty grocery bags to take care of Jasper’s business.

“Come on, buddy. We can do this.” He looked up at me, his red tongue hanging out, and I walked him over to the water fountain where I took a drink and then cupped my hands to let him have some.

There was one empty wine bottle that had missed its target, lying in the grass. I picked up what was formerly a quite expensive white burgundy and tossed it into the recycling can.

I stretched, exhaled, and headed back toward the path.

We had just reached the old mill buildings again when I realized we weren’t alone.

C
hip Rosenthal stepped around the corner of the mill and came toward me, wearing black workout gear and a black knit cap, his face unsmiling.

Holy smokes.

My heart raced into overdrive.

I knew that even if I turned and ran back to the dog park, all the wine club women would be long gone. Even Ruthie’s house was too far to hear a cry for help, and she was in Florida anyway. And that was assuming I could run faster than a guy in his late twenties, which I sincerely doubted.

I dropped Jasper’s leash. If he wanted to defend me, I wasn’t going to stand in his way.

Ronnie the psychic’s warning echoed in my head, and I wondered if this is what she’d seen when she touched my hand.

I glanced at my dog, expecting to see the hair standing up on the back of his neck, but his golden tail began to wag. He trotted up to Chip, who bent down to pet him with nails that were bitten to the quick.

“What are you doing here, Chip?” I managed, hoping he’d think the quaver in my voice was due to exertion from the brisk walk.

“I come here to think sometimes. It’s peaceful.” He glanced around at the still forest, its only noise the faint ripple of the creek. “You hardly ever see anyone else around.”

Even though Jasper seemed to be okay with him, I hung back, on guard for the slightest hint of aggression, seeing as I was out in the middle of the woods with a temperamental lunatic.

He pulled off his knit cap and rubbed at his sweat-dampened hair before jamming it down over his ears again. “I know that newspaper article was Margaret Jane’s doing. I was angry and took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

I was so taken aback I couldn’t speak for a moment.
Who are you, and what have you done with the real Chip Rosenthal?

“Guess I was shaken up to find out she was still alive and skulking around town in disguise. I’d heard she died in some jungle somewhere. And all that questioning by the police stirred up some bad memories.”

“About the accident?” I ventured.

He breathed in deeply, whether to clear his sinuses or stop himself from crying, I wasn’t sure.

“I’m trying to handle things better than my father, you know.” He focused that hooded gaze on me. “I won’t drop the ball, and I won’t go from one get-rich-quick scheme to another. I’m going to stay with something long enough to make a success of it.”

I didn’t really know what he was talking about, but I nodded, my heart rate still jumpy. “Okay. Absolutely. Persistence is the key in any undertaking. I think you have the right attitude there.”

Chip sighed and sank down onto a fallen log, his hands on his knees. Jasper sat down next to him and leaned against his leg.

“God, I’m tired. Some idiot set off the alarm on my car last night. I can’t wait to get out of that crappy apartment and into a new waterfront condo.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and took a step closer.

“When he was married to my mother, my father lost all their retirement savings in a spec deal. Sometimes I wonder if he engineered the fights just so he could divorce her and move on to greener pastures.”

He put his arm around Jasper and stroked his silky chest. “You name it, he tried it. Equity trusts, foreign-exchange markets, pyramid schemes, no-money-down deals, trading strategies that promised triple-digit annual returns . . . I swear it was almost like an addiction with him. It’s frightening to think how much money he lost over his lifetime.”

This was finally a glimmer of understanding into the puzzle that was Chip Rosenthal. But why did my store have to be the target of his steamroller strategy?

He ruffled the fur around Jasper’s ears. “Come to find out, a lot of these gurus lie about the money they make anyway. They profit from seminar fees and selling start-up packages to the suckers. Most get-rich-quick schemes deal in intangibles. That’s why I love real estate. It’s something concrete, something lasting.”

My gaze traveled to the crumbling mill behind him, and I raised a quizzical eyebrow.

The first smile I’d ever seen on his face appeared as we shared the little joke.

“And your mom?” I asked gently. “What happened to her?”

“Oh, she had the last laugh. She opened a home-care company for seniors who want to stay in their homes instead of going into assisted living—doing their grocery shopping, taking them to doctor visits, arranging for housecleaning, paying the bills. Now she’s franchised it and is making more money than she ever dreamed of. But she did it by hard work and by using her brain. Not like my dad. It drove him crazy to see how successful she was. And then he married Margaret Jane’s mother.”

“How did you feel about that?”

Chip stared up at the trees. “At first I resented the fact that my father remarried, but Dana was such a sweet lady and well, you couldn’t hate her. Then he started going through her money, too.”

His mouth thinned. “Right before the accident, he asked to borrow funds from me for one more surefire idea that was going to make him a millionaire. I refused, so then he went to Sophie. That’s when I put a stop to it.”

Now he stood up and began pacing, kicking through the pine needles, his face flushed. “He’d already lost his own money. I’d be damned if I’d let him lose my only chance at an inheritance. I told the lawyer to stay away and that Sophie wasn’t allowed to sign anything.”

Here was a glimpse of the temperamental Chip I knew and loved to hate.

I also saw the grieving young son, the person he was desperately trying to hide, who had been let down by the one person who should have set a good example. It wasn’t hard to see the toll it had taken on him and the resultant well of bitterness.

“And PJ? I mean, Margaret Jane?”

“We got along okay at first, but I’ll admit, I came to resent her relationship with Sophie. It was
my
aunt after all. She just took over—you know, with the womanly things—helping her do her hair and her makeup. Stuff like that. When Sophie’s health started going downhill, I got worried. Margaret can be very persuasive when she wants to be. I could just see her talking my aunt into donating the whole estate to a refuge for wild turtles, or some such crap.”

Jasper came back over to my side and I casually picked up his leash.

“Money doesn’t mean much to Margaret,” he said. “When she finally settles down and stops traipsing around the world, I have money set aside to help her buy a house. She thinks she’s so tough, but she’s gullible, like her mother. I’m protecting her interests, whether she realizes it or not.”

He stopped pacing and faced me. “By the way, I talked to your lawyer. I was thinking, how about a one-year lease at double what you’re paying now? Would that be acceptable? That
is
fair market rent, you know.”

I gasped. “Wow, yes, that’s great, thank you very much.”

From my recent experience, I knew that was exactly what I should be paying to be in line with the market.

We shook hands and I decided to end the conversation while things were still on a relatively even keel. “Okay, well, it’s been very nice talking to you, and I look forward to a pleasant relationship over the next year.”

I hesitated for a moment before I walked away. “I don’t know if you’ll think this is impertinent of me, but I think you have a lot of potential, Chip Rosenthal.”

He smiled shyly at me and I felt as if I was back in high school, talking to one of my students. “You’re well on your way to being successful, not just in business, but in your life.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, his gaze serious.

I walked off in the direction of Millbury, leaving him standing by the broken-down mill.

When we came out onto the end of the Browns’ property, Georgia was covered up and tucked in for the night, resplendent in the grass. The sight of her plump body, motherly and welcoming, was like coming home.

• • •

B
y some miracle, Joe had roused himself from his miniature making long enough to call for a pizza, which had just been delivered by the time I walked in the door, chilled and starving.

He opened a bottle of Shiraz, and ignoring the ripped-apart kitchen as best as we could, we headed for the study carrying our impromptu picnic of the pizza, a handful of napkins, a couple of glasses, and the wine. We snuggled up on the leather couch, and while he poured, I told him about my adventure in the woods.

“I still can’t believe it, Joe. I’m trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I’m going to be able to keep the store and not have to pack everything and move out.”

“That’s great, Daisy.”

We clinked glasses.

“By the way, I have some news, too,” he said. “I signed up for a jewelry-making class that Mac recommended. It’s going to be held at the artist’s retreat on Burning Barn Road, two nights a week.”

Two nights a week, eh? And no discussion with your wife before you made that kind of commitment?

I sighed. As much as I didn’t want to spoil the mood, now was probably as good a time as any to have a discussion with Joe about his spending habits and the amount of time he was devoting to his new hobby.

I drew a deep breath. “Look, Joe—”

“No,
you
look, Daisy.”

I stopped in surprise at the sharp tone in his voice.

“I’ve been as supportive as I possibly could about Sometimes a Great Notion, letting you do your thing and whatever else you wanted.” Joe jumped to his feet. “Now it’s the time for me to do something
I
enjoy. To be a little selfish for once in my life.”

I stared at him, my mouth open. Dear, dependable Joe was standing over me, dark eyes intense, his mouth firm, the very picture of resolve and purpose.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“And I do enjoy it, you know, more than I ever thought possible,” he said, his voice softening.

I took a sip of my wine for courage. “I know, Joe. I know you deserve your passion, too. It’s just that money is going to be tight if I’m—I mean—if
we’re
going to be paying twice the amount of rent at the store.”

“Well, I just sold a dining table and chairs like the one I made for Claire for eight hundred dollars.”

I nearly lost my mouthful of wine. “You’re kidding me. That much?”

“Yes, that’s what it’s worth. When you add up all the hours I spent . . .”

“I know, but
eight hundred dollars
?”

He nodded. “And I have orders for three more.”

“Wow.” All I could do was stare at him as he sat back down, picked up a slice of mushroom and pepperoni pizza, and grinned at me.

“And the Empire chest of drawers? Already on order for a customer who’s paying four fifty.” He took a large bite of the pizza.

I was quickly doing the math in my head. His miniature sales so far would almost pay for the whole pipe replacement.

“I can see your wheels turning, Daisy Buchanan,” he said as he wiped his hands on a napkin. “Don’t worry, this new income will all go toward our house bills and the store.”

“It’s going to be a huge help, Joe.” I set my wineglass down with trembling fingers. “I’m so proud of you.”

He pulled me into his arms. I leaned deeper into his embrace and sighed in delight. He lowered his lips to mine and kissed me, slowly and tenderly, until my bones began to melt into the couch. Suddenly I remembered how much I enjoyed kissing.

“Your pizza’s getting cold,” he whispered against my mouth.

“I like cold pizza,” I said and felt his lips curve against mine.

I drew back so I could look into his eyes. “I know I’ve spent a lot of time at the store this past year, Joe. Too much. I was thinking that I could give Laura more hours if she wants them. And I could make dinner for us on the nights that you have your class.”

He smiled slowly. “And I’ll only take as many orders as I can finish during daylight hours.”

“Deal.”

We reached for our wineglasses and toasted again.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Joe said. “Sarah called today. The shoot wrapped in Spain, and they’re heading home tomorrow. Everything went well. She sounded on top of the world.”

“That’s great,” I said, glad for the news of my daughter, but my heart sinking at the thought of her coming to take Jasper back to the city.

He was sprawled out in front of the fireplace now, the fun-loving golden-haired puppy who had wrangled his way into my heart and become such a big part of it I couldn’t imagine him not being here.

Even the tantalizing smell of pizza hadn’t been enough to keep him awake after his three-mile trek through the woods. His eyes were closed, but he was barking in his sleep, a curious muffled sound, like he was dreaming of chasing squirrels all the way to Ringing Springs Park.

“Did she—um—say anything about when she might be picking him up?” I cocked my head toward Jasper, not wanting to say his name and disturb his slumber.

“No, she didn’t. Not quite.”

Joe frowned as he savored another swallow of wine.

“She asked about him, of course, but honestly, Daisy, I got the feeling that she’s hoping we would offer to keep him permanently. And I’ve got to say, I think his life here is so much better than he’d have in New York. Here he’s got lots of fresh air, exercise, a regular schedule, a big backyard to play in . . .”