Hank clicked off the e-mail but saved it. “Mason!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can I hire you for six months?”
“I would think so, sir. Contact the agency and arrange it. I need to warn you, I'm in demand. I say that with all due modesty.”
“Even with the dogs?”
“I suppose I can get a book on dog training.”
“Good, good. Okay, I don't have time right now to call the agency. Will you do it and reserve yourself for the next six months. I'll . . . what I'll do is . . . throw in a bonus. Name it and it's yours,” Hank babbled as he backed out of the door.
“Very well, sir.”
A blustery gust of snow flurries slammed Hank in the face the moment he stepped outside. He laughed when he saw Churchill and Miss Sadie trying to catch the elusive flurries.
“Damn, I'm sorry, Mandy. The twins . . . and then there was an e-mail from Ben I had to read. You hung all the lights! You didn't need me at all.”
“Sure I do. I waited for you to plug in the lights. Cross your fingers that they work.”
Hank inserted the plug. Amy clapped her hands in delight. “I have a package of extra lights. It's amazing that they still work after all these years. Well, our work here is done. You can carry the ladder back to my house and put it on the back porch. Should I keep the dogs, or do you want to take them to your house?”
“Yours. The nanny doesn't have a dog book yet. Yeah, yeah, your house. My car or yours?” Then he remembered Alice said the SUV needed gas. “Yours. Alice said hers is low on gas. I'll fill it up later, but since I don't know how much driving we're going to be doing, let's use yours.”
“Okay,” Amy said agreeably.
Ten minutes later, the snow still swirling and twirling, Hank and Amy settled themselves in the big truck. “Pretty fancy set of wheels,” Hank said. “Is it yours, or is it a rental?”
“I bought it when I got here. Mom and Dad's old cars are still in the garage. I didn't want to take a chance on either one of them. I knew I was going to need a vehicle. I might decide to stay on longer than I originally planned. I might even decide to drive cross-country when it's time to leave.”
Leave
. She was talking about leaving. Hank felt his loss. Well, he couldn't let that happen, now could he? “It's really snowing. Looks like it's going to keep up. If it does, maybe we could go sledding like we used to. We could pull the twins on the sled. I think our old sleds are still in the attic. You could use Ben's if you don't have one.”
“Sounds like fun. I'm game. But not until I get the house set up for Christmas. You any good at setting up a tree?” She twinkled.
“The best tree-setter-upper there is. Takes two people, though. Ben and I always did it. It's the lights that are a killer. The tinsel can drive you nuts. Ben always insisted on hanging one strand at a time. It took all night.”
“Really? Mom and Dad always did it after I went to bed.
When I woke up, there was this magnificent tree all lit up, with all the junk I made through my school years. We didn't have any fancy heirloom ornaments. How wonderful for you,” she said sadly.
“I didn't know that, Mandy. What did you do for a tree in California?” Hank asked.
Amy bit down on her lip. “Flo wasn't big on cleaning up pine needles in July. She said that's how long it took to get them out of the house. We always had an artificial tree, and it glittered with shiny ornaments and white lights. The wreath on the door was artificial, too. It got a new red bow every year. We used to go swimming on Christmas Day and have a turkey. I did my best to sleep through the whole season.”
“I upset you, didn't I? I'm sorry, Mandy. That wasn't my intention.” Hank stretched out a hand to pat her arm.
Amy blinked away tears. “Well, we've arrived. Does Karen Powell still own OK Florist?”
“Yep. She expanded a few years back, added a nursery, and sells outdoor plants as well. Even trees. The parking lot is always full in the spring and summer.”
A bell tinkled over the door when Amy opened it. She looked around. It was just the way she remembered. New merchandise, but the old beams were still there, with greenery and decorations dangling downward. “It looks like a Wonderland with all the trees. It's so festive, with all the greenery and red and white Santas. My gosh, I don't know what to buy. I want a little of everything.”
“Then let's get a little of everything,” Hank said happily. Damn, he was getting a large dose of Christmas spirit all of a sudden.
“Okay, but first I want to order the flowers for Mr. Carpenter so they can deliver them today. How about if I order a large arrangement and put your, Ben's, and my name on the card?”
“Sure. Sounds great. Oh, and will you include Ben's wife, Alice? Just tell me how much our share is.”
“No problem.”
Amy walked over to the counter and spoke to the girl behind the computer. She explained what she wanted, signed a card, and handed her a credit card. “I'm going to want a dozen or so of your poinsettias. All red. Shall I pick them out and put them by the door?” The frazzled clerk nodded as she punched in the order.
Amy and Hank spent the next hour picking out just-right poinsettias, knickknacks, and whatever pleased Amy. The clerk rang everything up while a young boy loaded the cargo hold of the Range Rover. She ripped off a tape and slapped it down on the counter in front of Hank along with Amy's credit card. “Sign on the X.”
“No, that's not my card,” Hank said, picking up the credit card. “Hold on, I'll get my friend to come in and sign the slip.”
Hank walked over to the door and tapped on it. Amy turned around and smiled. He held up her credit card and motioned her to come inside. Without meaning to, he looked down at the platinum card in his hand and saw the name Amy Lee. He frowned. Who the hell was Amy Lee? What was Mandy Leigh doing with someone else's credit card?
Hank's stomach crunched into a knot as he stared at his old childhood friend as she walked toward him, a smile on her face. He realized at that moment he didn't know a thing about Mandy Leigh. All he knew was she was home for the holidays and lived in California. Otherwise, all their conversations were on the generic side. He'd been loose as a goose and opened up and confessed to loving her.
The name Amy Lee sounded so familiar. Did he know her when they were kids? Was she a client or a client's wife? Nothing was ringing a bell for him.
Who the hell was Amy Lee?
Chapter Six
It wasn't until Amy finished her third slice of pizza and drained the last of her root beer float that she realized she'd been doing all the talking. Hank had only eaten one slice of the delicious pizza, and his root beer float was basically untouched. He also had a strange look on his face. Like he wanted to say something or possibly ask her something and didn't quite know how to go about it. The words “moody” and “sullen” came to mind. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't need this, no way, no how.
Maybe he thought she'd spent too much money at OK Florist. He'd commented on her Range Rover, calling it a pricey set of wheels. Maybe he had a thing about women spending money. He'd been fine before they got to the florist, so whatever was wrong had nothing to do with Mr. Carpenter or the dogs. It had to be her. Something about her was suddenly bothering him. She racked her brain to try to recall what she might have said or done that would make him so quiet all of a sudden.
Well, she certainly wasn't going to worry about Hank and his moods. She had things to do and places to go. She fished some money out of her pocket and laid it on the table. After all, she'd invited him to lunch, so it was up to her to pay for it.
Amy got up and slipped into her jacket. The waiter approached and asked if she wanted change. She shook her head. “Are you ready, Hank?” she asked coolly.
“What?”
“I asked you if you were ready to leave. We came, we ate, I paid the bill, and now it's time to leave. Are you ready?”
“Yeah. Sure. My mind is somewhere else. I'm sorry, Mandy.”
“I am, too,” Amy said as she headed for the door. She slammed through the door, not caring that Hank walked right into it as it was closing. She ignored his yelp of surprise and headed straight for the car. Midway to the Rover, a young woman in a Girl Scout uniform rushed up to her. “Would you care to donate to Mr. Carpenter's funeral expenses?”
“What did you say?”
The young girl repeated her question.
“I didn't know . . . of course.” Amy emptied out her wallet.
“How about you, sir?”
“I didn't bring my wallet with me. Tell me where I can drop off my contribution. I'll do it as soon as I get home.”
“Mrs. Masterson. She lives at 82 Cypress Street. She's in charge of the fund-raiser.”
“Okay, thanks.” Hank climbed into the Rover and buckled up. Amy peeled away the moment the door was closed securely. She clenched her teeth. If he thought she was going to start babbling, he needed to think again about his rude behavior. Some things were just not meant to be. So much for dreams and long-lost loves.
“The snow is really coming down,” Hank said, in an attempt to make conversation.
The snow wasn't a question. So she didn't have to respond.
Hank eyed Amy out of the corner of his eye. He tried again. “That's pretty sad about Albert Carpenter. I knew he didn't have any family left, but I would have thought he had some savings, enough to bury him.”
That wasn't a question either. So she didn't have to respond to it either. Instead, Amy concentrated on the falling snow and driving on the slick roads.
The rest of the ride home was made in silence on Amy's part. She swerved into her driveway, turned off the engine, and hopped out of the Rover. “Don't bother yourself. I can unload the truck later. I have other things I need to do now. Do you want to take the dogs, or should I keep them?”
Her voice was as cold as the snow falling all about him. Hank did a double take. He knew a brush-off when he got one. He'd had more than enough in his lifetime to know the signals. He took a moment to wonder if Mandy was bipolar. One minute she was on top of the world, and the next she was doom and gloom. She hadn't said a word on the drive home. “I'll take them,” he said curtly.
“Fine,” Amy snapped. She opened the door, and both dogs ran to her to be petted. Hank did everything in his power to get Churchill to go with him. He finally had to give up when the big dog bared his teeth. “Guess that's your answer, Mr. Anders.”
Mr. Anders?
“Yeah, guess so.”
Amy moved to the door to close it. Then she added insult to injury, Hank thought, when he heard the deadbolt snick into place. He felt lower than a skunk's belly when he hightailed it back to his brother's house.
What the hell is going on?
The house was exceptionally quiet. Instead of calling out, Hank walked out to the kitchen to see Mason puttering around at the stove. “Is there any coffee, Mason? Did anyone call?”
“I just made fresh coffee. No one called, but your e-mail is pinging again. I just put the boys down for their naps. My agency has booked me for the next six months. All you need to do is call to confirm and give them your credit card information. Is something wrong, Mr. Anders? You look . . . dejected. ”
Was something wrong? This guy was really astute. Hank wondered what kind of confidant he would make. He poured coffee. “What are you making?”
“Stew. I always make stew when it snows. The weatherman is predicting six inches of snow by morning. Did you go to the market, Mr. Anders? We need milk for the boys.”
“Stew is good. I'm going to go to the market when I finish this coffee. I have to get gas, too. What I said earlier . . . you know . . . about me being in love. That wasn't true. Well, it was at the time, but it isn't now. I overreacted. Women are so . . . what they are is . . . hell, what are they, Mason?”
“Complex. Fickle. Manipulative. Selfish. Mind you, I don't know this for a fact, but I do read a lot. So, I guess what you're saying is the lady next door spurned your advances. Would that be a correct assessment, Mr. Anders?”
“It will do. I didn't do a damn thing. She froze on me. She goddamn well kicked me to the curb is what she did. What do you think about
that,
Mason?”
Mason opted to take the high road. “I think, sir, before I can comment, I would need to hear the young lady's side. As you know, there are two sides to everything.”
“There must be something wrong with me. I was left standing at the altar a while back. The twins don't like me. The dogs don't want to come home. I don't get it. I'm a stand-up guy. I'm nice to old people. I've always liked kids. I'm generous, never ask anyone to do anything I won't do myself. My employees gave me a plaque that said I was the best boss in the world. I don't have dandruff. I use a top-notch deodorant. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“I don't think I'm qualified to comment on anything other than the boys. I think they sensed your uneasiness. In other words, you have little experience with toddlers. They sense your fear. I can't be certain, but I imagine it's probably the same thing with the animals.”
“What should I do?”
“Try to repair the damage. Relax. Flowers might be an option. You need to be comfortable with yourself. I really think you should go to the market now before the roads become hazardous, Mr. Anders. The boys drink a lot of milk.”
Hank looked over at the computer. He had the rest of the day and evening to check e-mails. Mason was right, he needed to get to the market and gas up the SUV. “Do you know how to bake a pie, Mason?”
“Of course. Doesn't everyone? What kind would you like?”
“Berry. Anything berry. I don't know how to bake a pie. I don't know how to cook. Period.”
“Let me check the larder to see if the lady of the house has all the ingredients. I'll make a list for you, Mr. Anders.”
Antsy with his inactivity, Hank walked into the living room so he could look out the window. He gasped when he saw Mandy and the dogs on Albert Carpenter's front porch. Mandy was stringing wire on the back of the giant wreath she'd purchased at the florist shop. Even from here he could see how huge the big red bow was. He'd wanted to hang the wreath with her. Was she making a statement of some kind?
Hank felt guilty and knew it showed on his face when Mason came up behind him with his list. He held out Hank's wallet. “I'm thinking you might need this.”
“Thanks. I wasn't spying, Mason.”
“If you say so, Mr. Anders.”
“All right, I'm spying.”
Mason cleared his throat. “Have you given any thought to speaking with the young lady and telling her whatever it is that's bothering you? It's entirely possible that she's reacting to something you did or said. For every action there is a reaction, Mr. Anders.”
Hank snorted. “Try this on for size, Mason. Why would the lady in question be using a credit card, a platinum one no less, with someone else's name on it?”
“I'm sure there are many reasons why and how that could happen, Mr. Anders.”
“Oh, yeah, name me one,” Hank said belligerently.
Mason squared his shoulders. “Very well. Perhaps the card is in her maiden name. Perhaps it's a corporate card. Perhaps the young lady uses a pseudonym. And, Mr. Anders, is it any of your business to begin with?”
“I'm outta here,” Hank barked as he opened the door. Slipping and sliding, he made his way to the SUV and turned on the engine and the heater while he cleaned the snow off the truck. He kept looking over at the Carpenter house, hoping Mandy would acknowledge him. She didn't. The dogs were so intent on romping in the snow, they weren't even aware of him.
“Screw it,” Hank muttered as he backed out of the driveway. His first stop was the Masterson house on Cypress Street.
Ten minutes later he was ringing the doorbell. A pleasant woman opened the door and smiled at him. He reached for his wallet and explained that he was there to give a donation for Albert Carpenter's funeral.
“That's very nice of you but some very kind, generous person is paying for the funeral. Mr. Dial just called a little while ago. This same person, who I'm told wishes to remain anonymous, also paid for the church ladies to prepare a dinner after . . . after the burial. Everything has been taken care of, but thank you for stopping by.”
Hank nodded and shrugged as he jammed his wallet back in his pocket.
Two hours later, Hank was back at the house, with the SUV gassed up and enough groceries to feed an army for a month.
He looked across the yard and saw that the colored Christmas lights had been turned on. Wise move. This way Mandy wouldn't have to get dressed and slog through the snow when it got dark out. The huge evergreen wreath on the door looked festive. He craned his neck trying to see into the cargo hold of the Range Rover to see if the contents had been removed. He couldn't see a thing with the falling snow and the tinted windows.
Disgusted with himself and his circumstances, Hank carried in the groceries. He smiled at the childish laughter coming from the family room.
While Mason unpacked the groceries, Hank made a fire, then settled himself on the floor, not close to the twins but just far enough away so they wouldn't pitch a fit. He watched them interact with each other as they played with their toys. From time to time they looked over at him to see what he was doing. He wiggled his fingers and made funny faces. Then he rolled across the floor and hid his face. It was all the boys needed. Suddenly they were all over him, yanking at his hair, sitting on his back, then rolling over themselves.
Hank sat up. The boys looked at him as much as to say, is the fun over? “You guys look just like your daddy. He's one lucky man. You're pretty lucky, too, to have a dad like Ben. I'm sorry your mom isn't here. She . . . I know she misses you, but she has some . . . issues right now. I think she'll be home for Christmas. God, I hope she comes home for Christmas.”
The boys trundled off when they realized the giant on the floor was done playing. Hank rolled over and stared at the fire blazing up the chimney.
Where are you, Alice? He just knew in his gut that Alice would be able to explain Mandy's attitude. Women knew everything about other women. He sat up and moved over to the gate to step over it. Time to check the e-mails. He sniffed; the kitchen smelled just the way a kitchen was supposed to smell, fragrant and homey. He said so. Mason beamed with pleasure at the compliment.
Hank clicked on the e-mail and saw a note from Alice. Another list! Not a word about her return.
⢠The boys get a chewable Flintstone vitamin every morning. The bottle is on the kitchen windowsill.
⢠Trash pickup is tomorrow morning. Both cans are full. Separate the glass bottles from plastic. Containers in the garage. Bundle all paper products and put in separate bin. All bins are labeled in the garage.
⢠Buy gas for the snowblower. Container is empty. Otherwise, shovel the driveway.
⢠Wash Churchill's pee pads in Clorox.
⢠Lightbulbs on front porch are burned out. Replace them.
And that was the end of the list. Hank printed it out.