Authors: Ginger Simpson
When he didn't respond, she peered out the kitchen window but saw only the laborers. His pickup was gone. Perhaps he'd sent someone on an errand. She stood at the bottom of the stairs and called for him again. Still no answer.
"Damn!" Her hands curled into fists. "Where the hell are you?" She checked her home office for a note, but didn't find one among the papers, envelopes and flyers littering her oak desk. Eyeing the mess, she feared more surprises lurked. Deciding to wait for Evan to appear, she wielded her trusty letter opener, carefully slitting each envelope and reading the contents.
"Oh, Lord!" She paused perusing the mail, amazed to find accounts she wasn't aware she had. Some were already past due. When had Evan secured them, and how? Clearly, she had to find time in her schedule to pay closer attention to the business. She'd never been a bookkeeper, but creating a spreadsheet to track expenditures seemed the most logical starting place.
Cassie opened the Excel program on her computer and started entering each account. Necessity had forced the purchase of a new PC, and that was her first entry. At least she didn't have to waste time waiting for the system to boot.
She didn't take long to fill a page with creditors and outstanding balances. She'd never been so deep in debt in her life and found it frightening. She yanked open the top drawer and shoved all the recorded statements inside. Searching through the remaining pile, she prayed to find checks for down payments or work completed. She found only two amounting to less than one thousand dollars, but charted another spreadsheet for income and job expenses. She shook her head, feeling totally inept and more like janitorial staff instead of someone at the helm.
Lost in thought, Cassie was startled when Evan bent and brushed her neck with a kiss. She spun her chair and faced him. The time on the clock behind him spiked her anger. She'd been doing paperwork for over three hours. She glared at him. "Where have you been?"
"Ah've been workin', baby girl." His speech slurred and the distinct smell of alcohol clung to his clothing.
He attempted to kiss her on the lips, missed the mark, and smooched her chin instead. She shoved him away. "You've been drinking. A little too much, it appears."
His brow furrowed and he teetered to keep his balance. "I mighta had one or two."
Cassie yanked open the top drawer and pointed at the contents. "While you've been getting drunk, I've been working my ass off, trying to make heads or tails of all these bills."
"Ah, don't be mad at me." His words sounded thick and heavy.
"I'd say you've had more than one or two drinks, Evan. Why? Where?"
He pushed the bill of his cap back on his forehead, leaving it crooked and looking ridiculous. "I was celebratin' a new deal."
Swaying, he reached for the desk to steady himself.
Clearly, this wasn't the time to discuss anything of importance with him. How could he provide answers when he couldn't even speak coherently? He bent and tried to hug her, but she held him at arm's length. "I think I should make you some strong coffee."
The color drained from his face and his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. "I think I'll jes go upstairs to bed. I'm not feelin' so great."
Cass' gaze followed his staggering ascent of the stairs. "One or two, my ass!" Her disgust made her words much louder than she planned.
She sat for a while and let her anger subside, then returned her attention to her attempt to match jobs with cost and those amounts with bills. Evan's untidy paper management made the task even more difficult. His scrawled notes and combined receipts made little sense. Stress pounded in her temples and knotted her shoulders. Perhaps if she assigned each job a number and made a coordinating sheet for each, tracking would be easier. She set about initiating her new plan.
Pausing from the seemingly never-ending task, she glanced at the clock and grimaced at the hour—almost midnight. She'd spent more hours working at home than she had at the office. After a stretch and yawn, she arched her back to ease a kink. Finally, the surface of the desk was visible again. Everything had been categorized, entered in the computer, and filed. Although tired, her sense of accomplishment made the hours worthwhile.
She checked the time again. "Christ, I'm going to be dead in the morning." She hadn't eaten, but sleep trumped hunger. As midnight chimed, she turned out the lights and started upstairs, her foot tracing each step of the staircase. The last thing she needed was a broken bone to keep her from earning the wages needed to pay for all the newly incurred expenses.
At the bedroom, she inched open the door and tiptoed inside to a fully lit room. Evan, still fully dressed, curled in a fetal position on her side of the bed. At least he'd had enough sense to take off his boots. His baseball cap hung on the bedpost and, every few seconds, he inhaled in a light snore. With no desire to try to move him and too tired to shower, Cassie changed into her nightgown and crawled beneath the covers on the opposite side. She cursed the inconvenience under her breath, while attempting to turn off the lamp.
Nestled against Evan's back for warmth, she released a contented sigh and snuggled beneath the covers. He stirred and turned over, sending a blast of his acrid breath directly up her nose. Giving him a swift kick to send him sprawling onto the floor tempted her, but instead she faced the wall and prayed sleep would come. For the first time, Evan sorely disappointed her.
Chapter Sixteen
The alarm blared, bringing Cassie to a hazy stage of consciousness. Hadn't she just fallen asleep? Enveloped in grogginess, she reached to stop the annoying clamor, swatting the air and hoping to connect with the button atop the clock. Why couldn't she find it?
In her disoriented state, she recalled the events of the prior evening. She was on the wrong side of the bed because Evan was too inebriated to make it to his own. Cassie edged off the mattress, padded around, and quelled the noise.
Evan didn't move. How did he sleep through the racket? Why would he come home drunk? He was supposed to be conducting business or working with Stan, not out on a bender. Did Evan have a drinking problem? If so, what other secrets did he harbor?
With no time to discuss the serious issue of his behavior, she'd table hashing things out until she got home from work. At the moment, he wasn't quite as handsome with his mouth hanging open and each breath causing a snocking noise. She smiled at her usage of Grandma's combination of snoring and sucking. The old woman had used her own vocabulary, for sure.
Cassie tiptoed to the bathroom, almost laughing at her attempt to be quiet. If the piercing alarm hadn't brought Evan out of his alcohol-induced coma, what were the chances her walking barefoot on a carpeted floor would? She completed her morning toilette, cast a last glance at a still sleeping Evan then closed the bedroom door behind her. Today promised to be a long one.
All the way to the train station, she struggled with mixed emotions. Last night she'd been angry, but now disappointment and hurt replaced the ire. Her thoughts jumbled, she barely remembered the drive to the depot or parking her car in the lot.
At the office, her emotions made concentration difficult. She sat at her expansive desk, a looming paper pile before her. Instead of working, she stared out the window and questioned why one little episode with Evan bothered her so much. Hadn't he been upstanding and responsible since he'd move in? Before she let only the few drinks Evan claimed to have imbibed spoil a promising relationship, they needed to talk and set some guidelines. They should have established mutual rules up front, but discussing mature behavior now was better than not talking about the topic at all. She released a loud breath and opened a binder of reinsurance regulations. Now that she'd decided how to handle her personal issues, she could get down to work.
Engrossed in projects, her afternoon whizzed by—a productive day made better by not seeing Takeda. Giving herself a mental 'atta girl,' she grabbed her purse and left for the train station. The only thing on her mind when she exited at the commuter station was how to broach the subject of boundaries.
* * *
She maneuvered through more stacks of bricks, lumber and cement on her way into the garage. Additional supplies had been delivered during the day, but at least, she still had room to park. Evan must have contracted more jobs, because surely not all this was for the pond.
Before she went inside, she surveyed her backyard. The project appeared to be shaping up nicely…she supposed. She didn't share Evan's ability to visualize the completed job. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine a peaceful pool of water…no dice. The only image that came to mind was her destroyed lawn and a messy work-in-progress.
Where was Evan? That seemed to be a common question of late. The workers passed her in the driveway, finished for the day. Since none of them spoke English, she gave them a friendly wave and didn't bother wasting time trying to ask where their boss went. A ringing phone summoned her into the house.
"May I please speak with Cassie Fremont." The voice responding to her hello harkened back bad memories.
"Speaking."
"Ms. Fremont, this is Cindy Russell with a courtesy call from National Bank. There's been a very large withdrawal from your account today, and I'm calling to confirm that you indeed initiated or authorized the transaction."
Cassie swallowed hard, but kept her composure. "How much was withdrawn?"
"Five thousand dollars. Since the amount was much larger than previous withdrawals in a single day, your account was red-flagged which is why the call. Of course, because of daily limits, the money was withdrawn in the course of several ATM visits. Are you the person who took out the cash?"
"No." Had she been robbed? She shuddered. "I haven't been to the bank at all this week."
"Are you in possession of your debit card?"
The image of handing the card over to Evan flashed through Cassie's mind. A sickening lump settled in the pit of her stomach. Why in the world would Evan need that much money? Perhaps the supplies in the driveway? Surely, they didn't cost that much. She lost the ability to speak, and a long silence ensued.
"Are you still there?" the bank representative inquired.
"Y-yes, I'm so sorry, I…."
"Do you still have your card?"
"I believe so." She didn't lie. The card hadn't been stolen.
"Could you check for me to make sure?"
"Ah…" Cassie struggled for an explanation that made sense.
"If you aren't the person responsible for the withdrawals, I need to report these transactions to the department handling fraud."
Cassie's hands trembled. She couldn't implicate Evan. Surely, there was a logical explanation. "Can you please just report the card lost to stop further charges before you take any legal action. I need to check with my business associate about the withdrawals…just to make certain. I'm sure you understand."
"I can certainly do that, Ms. Fremont. Will you please call me back tomorrow and let me know what you find out?"
"Yes…yes, I will."
Cassie hung up and massaged her throbbing brow. "Oh, please God, let this be a mistake. Evan, where are you?"
She went to her desk for her checkbook, and when she opened it, her mouth gaped. Several entries appeared in Evan's handwriting, but he'd failed to enter an amount for a few. Having just received her paycheck, she assumed the balance would be large enough to pay all the household bills, but by her calculation, she couldn't cover half of them, and that didn't include the amounts missing. She sagged into the chair.
What in the world was Evan thinking? The pain in her forehead moved to her temples and pounded with every heartbeat. A mental list of the expenses yet unpaid ran through her mind. She'd have to transfer money from her savings account to cover them. She pushed aside the newest stack of mail and logged into her computer, then typed in the URL for her home banking.
The five thousand dollar deficit practically zeroed her checking account. She completed her transfer, then resting her elbows on the desk, supported her face in her palms. A recap of the past few months replayed in her memory: meeting Evan, his moving in, starting a new business, the rift between her and two of her siblings. Was their business going to be worth all the problems it'd already caused? Seemed every time she needed to speak with him, he was gone. Again, the same redundant question played in her head. Where was Evan?
Now dark outside, the only light in the office came from the monitor.
She fingered an envelope from the current stack, but pushed the pile aside, knowing her mind wasn't clear enough to tackle the task. She'd had enough bad news for one day. She sighed and stood to go upstairs.
Car lights in the driveway reflected through the window and the familiar sound of Evan's truck rumbled the glass. Cassie squared her shoulders and waited for him to come inside. The pounding in her head worsened.
Chapter Seventeen