The House on Sugar Plum Lane (5 page)

“Before you go, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I'm curious about Mrs. Rucker—Eleanor.”

Maria smiled. “If she were standing here with us now, she'd insist that you call her Ellie. Everyone did.”

“Then Ellie it is.” Amy returned the woman's smile.

“What about her?”

“I…uh…spotted some old photographs and was curious about something. Hold on a minute.” Amy turned and hurried to the mantel, snagged the picture of the soldier and the girl, and returned to the open doorway. “Do you know who these people are?”

Maria took the frame, glanced at the images, and nodded. “That's Ellie and her husband, Harold. I never met him. He died during World War Two, but he was the love of her life. That photo has been on her mantel ever since I can remember. There's another one like it near her bed.”

“Didn't she ever remarry?” Amy asked, unsure why it seemed to matter.

“Yes, but only briefly. From what I understand, the marriage was a big mistake. She never talked to me about him, but I remember my aunt saying that he wasn't good to her.”

“That's too bad.”

“You mean that her second husband was a jerk?” Maria asked, handing back the frame.

“Oh, no.” Amy straightened. “That she lost the love of her life in the war, that she never met anyone else who could take his place.”

Maria smiled. “You sound like a romantic.”

“I always used to be.”

“So did I, but my ex-husband took care of dimming my rose-colored glasses.”

Amy's ex had done the same thing, but she hoped to find someone new someday, someone who valued his wife and child.

“Well,” Maria said. “I really need to get home. Let me know when Callie gets here. I'll bring Sara by to meet her.”

Amy nodded, although she couldn't do that.

How could she ask a child to help perpetuate the lie her mother had created?

As Maria walked down the cracked, leaf-riddled sidewalk that led from Ellie's porch to the street, a sense of sadness slowed her steps. There was a part of her that hated to leave the house in the hands of a stranger, yet she had to admit that Amy seemed nice enough.

As she reached the picket fence that surrounded Ellie's yard, she passed through the gate that had completely broken off its hinges, turned to her right at the street, and continued home.

Before she reached the property line that separated her house from Ellie's, a white pickup pulled up and parked along the curb. The bed of the truck, she noted, was filled with a lawnmower and other gardening tools. And a green logo on the passenger door read
GONZALES LANDSCAPING
.

Maria didn't give the vehicle's arrival much thought until the driver, a dark-haired man in his twenties, climbed from the cab, leaving a brown, shaggy dog in the front seat. The dog barked, but it wasn't the animal that piqued her interest; it was the handsome driver with an olive complexion, a square-cut jaw, and a rugged build.

Normally, she kept her eyes averted from men, particularly those who were young and attractive. It was easier that way.

Her marriage hadn't been happy, and she was unwilling to put herself in the position of repeating the same mistake. But she couldn't help risking a second glance at the brawny man who stood about six foot two.

When he tossed her a grin, her brains turned to mush—her bones and joints, too. Yet, try as she might, she couldn't return the friendly gesture.

Or maybe she inadvertently had, since he continued toward her.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Do you live here?”

Yes. No.

It was a simple question with a simpler answer, but for some reason, her words failed to form.

As their gazes met and locked, a swarm of butterflies rose up in her stomach. You'd think she'd never come face-to-face with an attractive man before, although she had to admit, this was the first time she'd ever been attracted to anyone other than her ex-husband. Ray's lies and betrayal had scarred her for good—at least, that's what she'd told herself.

The gardener nodded toward Ellie's house, and Maria's brain finally rallied.

“No, I live in the blue house.” She pointed to hers just as the front door swung open.

“Mom!” Danny shouted from the porch.

She turned to her son, glad for the distraction, even if it meant trouble inside.

“Ellie's out in the backyard again,” the unsmiling boy announced, “and she's calling for some guy named Harold.”

“I…uh.” Maria glanced at the landscaper. “I have to go.”

“I can see that.” His smile broadened, revealing a single dimple that could only mean bad news to any woman who found it charming.

What was with her inability to break eye contact, to move on?

“Our company is going to be doing some landscaping on the street,” he added. “So if you're interested in getting a bid for your yard”—he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a business card—“we'll give you or any of the other neighbors a ten-percent discount.”

She couldn't afford a landscaper, no matter what kind of deal he gave her, yet she took his card anyway, fingered the embossed lettering.

“Mom!” Danny yelled again, this time louder and more insistent.

“I'm coming.” Her words gave the proper response, but her feet seemed to be uncooperative.

“Keep us in mind,” he said.

She nodded, afraid she'd be keeping the landscaper in mind longer than she ought to, and forced herself to head back to the house.

Shake it off,
she told herself as she reached her front porch.

Danny stepped aside to allow her in.

Still, for some crazy reason, just as she started past the threshold, she stole one last peek over her shoulder, only to see that the landscaper hadn't moved either, that his eyes were still on her.

 

Amy had no more than returned the photograph of Ellie and Harold back to the mantel and started back to the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

Had Maria had a change of heart about the tea?

Oddly enough, Amy hoped so. She returned to the living room and answered the door only to find a tall, dark-haired man on the stoop. He appeared to be Latino, with soft brown eyes and a shy smile.

“Mrs. Masterson?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I'm Eddie with Gonzales Landscaping. I was asked to come by and look at the yard so that we can give the owner an estimate for cleaning things up around here.”

“Oh, good.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It definitely needs some work.”

“Do you have any dogs I should be aware of?”

“No, I don't.” At least, not at this house.

“Is there anything specific in the yard that needs to be trimmed? Anything you're especially concerned about?”

“Actually, I've only done a cursory walk-through of the yard, so I can't really say. I know there's a rose garden in back, and it's in bad shape. Other than that, the lawn needs to be mowed and edged, the trees and bushes need to be trimmed.”

“If you don't mind, Mrs. Masterson, I'll take a look around.”

“No, not at all. But call me Amy.”

“All right.” As he stepped off the porch, she closed the door and returned to the kitchen, where she opened the pantry, threw out all the open containers of food, and boxed up the rest. She found an unopened bag of Kitty Delight, although she hadn't seen any other sign of a cat. Rather than pack it up with the food items, she left it on a shelf to deal with later.

After washing down the shelves, she started on the drawers, then scoured the counters.

Near the telephone, which no longer had a dial tone, she found a pink steno pad with several notations written in pencil:

Odd, she thought. It wasn't the typical list, like the items she needed from the grocery store. It appeared that Ellie was keeping notes for herself, jotting down things she didn't want to forget.

Had she known her mind was failing?

Again, the doorbell rang. Amy wasn't sure how much time had passed. Fifteen or twenty minutes, she supposed.

Assuming the landscaper had finished checking out the yard and wanted to tell her he was leaving, she made her way back to the entry and swung open the door only to find her ex-husband and her daughter on the stoop.

“Brandon,” was all she could say.

“What's going on?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

She could be asking him the same question. And while she was tempted to level with him, as had been her habit in the past, she wasn't sure what kind of an explanation she owed him now that they were separated.

Yet with Callie standing in the midst of them, her bright-eyed smile proclaiming that she was certain the surprise visit had pleased them all, Amy found herself scrambling for a response.

“We're going to Chuck E. Cheese's,” Callie announced.

Now, that was unexpected. Amy and Callie had always been at the bottom of Brandon's priority list. So why the change of heart?

When she shot him a quizzical glance, he shrugged. “I had some free time and thought I'd spend it with Callie.”

Apparently the separation was having a positive effect on their almost nonexistent father/daughter relationship. But if he'd called ahead of time, Amy wouldn't have had to get a sitter.

Last night, she'd asked Stephanie Goldstein to watch Callie again, since they often helped each other by trading child care. But it hadn't worked out this time, and Amy had hired Sylvia Griswold to sit with her instead.

“It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Brandon added.

Apparently.

But it still didn't quite ring true.

“When I found Callie with Sylvia,” he said, “I tried your cell, but you didn't answer.”

She hadn't heard the phone ring. Had she forgotten to charge the battery?

“I asked Sylvia where you were, and she said you'd gone to Fairbrook. She mentioned Sugar Plum Lane, and so I drove by and spotted your car.” Brandon scanned the porch and yard of the neglected house, his brow furrowed as though trying to connect the dots.

“Do you want to come with us to Chuck E. Cheese's?” Callie asked. “It'll be fun, Mommy.”

“I'd like to, honey, but I've got some work to do here.” Amy looked at her ex-husband and added, “I'm helping out a friend.”

Brandon furrowed a brow, clearly perplexed, and she could understand why. When they'd been together, she'd stuck pretty close to home and always kept him in the loop, even if he hadn't seemed too interested in play dates, dance lessons, or mommy-and-me gym classes.

Footsteps crunched on the dried leaves and twigs that littered the side of the house, and they all turned to the sound and watched the landscaper approach.

The dark-haired man aimed a friendly smile her way. “Have you got a minute, Amy?”

Brandon's stance stiffened. “Is this your
friend?
”

What was he asking her? Did he think she was dating, and that she had something to hide?

Amy crossed her arms. “No, this is…the gardener.” She felt a little guilty referring to the man by his occupation, but to be honest, he might have remembered her name, but she'd forgotten his.

The man in question reached out to greet Brandon. “I'm Eddie Gonzales. Are you Mr. Davila?”

“No.” Brandon paused for a moment, then gripped the man's hand, yet his body remained tense. “Brandon Masterson.”

Eddie turned his attention back to Amy. “Is this a bad time?”

Apparently it was. And it seemed to be getting worse by the minute. “No, what's up?”

“Do you mind coming to the side of the house so I can show you something?”

“Not at all.” She turned to her soon-to-be ex. “Excuse me for a moment, Brandon. I'll be right back.”

A part of her enjoyed toying with him, especially since she didn't appreciate the surprise visit. But she wasn't the kind to resort to games, especially in front of their child.

She followed the gardener to the side yard, where a tree limb from the house next door hung over the wood fence. Or maybe
leaned on it
was more accurate.

“This branch needs to be cut back. As you can see, it's creating a problem. If we don't do something about it, the fence will need to be repaired or replaced. But we can't cut it without the neighbor's permission. Do you know the people who live there?”

“I just met her,” Amy said. “Her name is Maria. And I don't think she'll mind. Do you want me to talk to her about it?”

“I'll do it. We've got a release form I'd like for her to sign.” Eddie stepped closer to the fence and peered into Maria's yard, checking out the tree that was causing the problem.

Amy couldn't imagine Maria having a problem with Eddie trimming her tree. After all, the fence was already starting to bow from the weight.

“By the way,” Eddie added, “the sprinkling system is shot. I'm not sure if Mr. Davila will want to go to the expense of tearing it out and replacing it. If not, you'll have to water the old-fashioned way.”

It's not that Amy didn't like yard work, but she'd committed to a lot more than she'd planned already. And while she'd defend her actions to Brandon, she was getting drawn deeper and deeper into something she hadn't thought completely through when she'd leased the house.

“Well, I guess that's it for now.” Eddie stepped away from the fence and turned, ready to head back to the front yard. “I don't want to keep you from your work or your company.”

“He's not exactly company,” she said as they walked. “But while you're here, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know anything about rosebushes?”

“Quite a bit. Why?”

“Like I mentioned earlier, the woman who lived here had a rose garden in back. It's a scraggly mess now, but she clearly used to love it and care for it.”

“I'd planned to trim and weed around it.”

That wasn't exactly what she meant. “I'm not sure how much work the Davilas want you to do, but I'd be happy to pay you extra to get those bushes healthy once more. It just seems that…” What? she asked herself. That she somehow owed it to Ellie Rucker to put things back to rights? “…well, let's just say I'd like to see the roses bloom the way they should.”

“You got it,” Eddie said as they returned to the front yard, where Brandon and Callie waited. “I'll get some numbers to the Davilas, and we'll take it from there.”

Amy nodded as Eddie headed toward his pickup.

When she returned her attention to Brandon, she said, “Why don't I give you a call on your cell? I think it's better if we talk privately about this.”

“I don't like not knowing what you're up to,” Brandon said as he placed a hand on Callie's shoulder.

“I'm not ‘up to' anything. There's a perfectly good explanation.” Well, he might not consider it a good one. But Amy wasn't moving to Fairbrook. And she wasn't dating anyone.

“Aren't you going with us?” Callie asked.

“Not today, honey. I'm afraid I can't. But have fun.”

“Should I bring her back here?” Brandon asked.

“No.” Amy would have to figure out a Plan B, whatever that might be. “Tell me what time you'll have her home, and I'll be there.”

“How about two?” he asked.

She nodded, thinking she'd better get busy if she wanted to get any work—or any snooping—done.