If These Walls Could Talk (13 page)

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Authors: Bettye Griffin

BOOK: If These Walls Could Talk
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She had dozed off by the time Reuben came in. “I thought you said you'd be right in,” she said teasingly, her voice muffled with sleepiness.
“Just wanted to make sure everybody was comfortable. I turned up the heat some; you know how easily Mom gets cold.”
Camille sat up, the covers falling to her waist. “Did anyone say anything to you about being cold?” She recalled Lance Howard's prediction that their home would be drafty in the winter. She did find the house to be on the cold side, and although she didn't put stock in what Lance had said, it wouldn't surprise her if Reuben's family complained, alerted in advance by Saul.
Saul had been the only family member who heard Lance's declaration, and also the only family member who'd opted to get a hotel room. She pictured him discussing his plans with the others and saying something like, “Hell no, I ain't staying in that cold-ass house and freezing my nuts off.”
Reuben shrugged as he kicked off his shoes. “Just Arnelle. Kierra and Tiffany sat on the loveseat with one of those throws over them while they watched TV. Arnelle's been bundled up in a heavy sweater all day and said she couldn't get warm. She made some hot chocolate, and when I made a fire she sat close to it and said she felt much better. Mom said she was pretty cozy, but she already had a throw wrapped around her. I was going to ask if you'd mind if I bring the electric radiator in here out to the family room so Brenda and Arnelle won't freeze.”
“I doubt it'll do much good, Reuben. Those things work best in a room where you can close the door and lock in the heat. The family room is too open. It didn't work very well when we tried it in the living room, remember?”
He didn't reply right away, as he was in the midst of pulling his shirt over his head and replacing it with the old sweatshirt with torn-off sleeves that he usually slept in during the winter. “Yeah, that's right. I forgot about that. They'll just have to manage with an extra blanket, that's all.”
Camille, wearing only a spaghetti-strapped nightgown, felt a sudden chill and hastily pulled the covers over her skin. The heat was on, but she still felt cold. She couldn't understand why. “Reuben . . . You don't suppose Lance could have been right about what he said about our house, do you?”
He knew exactly what she meant. “Not for a minute. Camille, builders can't just slap houses together. They have inspectors who come out and have to evaluate every aspect of a home's construction, from the foundation to the plumbing to the insulation, and everything else. If they didn't there'd never be a decent house built anywhere.”
“Yes, but haven't there been cases where inspectors have been paid off to look the other way?”
“If it's happened here, nobody's been caught yet. If anything comes out about any scandals, I'll be the first one to question how they built this house. But I don't want to suggest to anyone that bribery might have been involved in the construction. I've asked some of our neighbors if their houses feel cold in the winter, and they said no.”
Camille considered that their neighbors' homes were already standing before construction began on theirs, and that they probably needed to seek out someone whose house had been built around the same time, which would probably mean involvement of the same workers. But that wouldn't be easy; houses went up all the time in Arlington Acres.
She dismissed the idea in favor of another thought she had. “You didn't mention Brenda. Did she have any complaints about the temperature?” Maybe he didn't want to tell her. Knowing Brenda's complaining nature, she'd probably carried on as if they lived in Siberia and it was thirty below in their living room.
“No. She kept her pullover sweater on, but she didn't complain about being cold. I think she was too busy trying to find her reading glasses.”
Camille's eyebrows arched. “Her reading glasses?”
“Yeah, apparently she misplaced them someplace.” Reuben pulled on a pair of flannel drawstring pants and slid into bed next to her.
She shook his upper arm. “Reuben, I found a pair of women's glasses on top of my dresser. I meant to ask you if you'd put them there, maybe for safekeeping.” She already knew what his answer would be.
“I never picked up any glasses,” he said as he fumbled with his pillow. He stopped suddenly, as if he were an electric device and someone had pulled the plug midoperation. “Wait a minute. What the hell were her glasses doing in
here?
”
She sat up. “That's what I'm saying.”
“Show me exactly where you found them.” Camille threw back the covers and got out of bed. She pointed to an area on the right-hand side of her double chest of drawers. “Right about there.”
“Don't you keep the bills and the papers for the house in your top drawer?”
She gasped again. Quickly she yanked open the top drawer. The blue vinyl envelope they'd received at their closing could be seen through the holes of the dividers she used to separate her panty hose and knee-hi nylons.
“Is that where you left it?”
She nodded, closing the drawer and opening the small one in the center, where she stored the bills and bank statements. “Everything looks all right, but she had plenty of time, Reuben. We were over at the Lees' for over two hours. And Brenda didn't go to the movies.”
“Yeah, and here I was thinking it was a good thing that she decided to stay at home with Mom,” Reuben said bitterly. “Instead she goes on a fucking snooping expedition.”
Camille thought for a moment, but no ideas came to her. “What do you want to do about it?”
“I'm going to give her her damn glasses back and ask what she was doing in our bedroom. Put on a robe or something. I'm gonna bring her back in here. No need for Mom or Arnelle to know anything about this.”
“What if she's gone to bed?”
“She's still up.” Reuben tightened the drawstring of his pants. “I'll be right back.”
Two minutes later Brenda followed Reuben into the room, looking like a child who'd eaten all the beef strips out of the pepper steak, leaving just pepper and onions for the rest of the family. “What did y'all want to talk to me about?”
Camille held up the wire-rimmed glasses. “Reuben tells me you're looking for these.”
Brenda brightened. “My glasses! I'll be able to read a couple of chapters of my book before I go to sleep. Where'd you find them?”
Her sister-in-law's innocent reaction brought one word to Camille's mind:
Glib.
“On top of my dresser,” she said flatly. “They weren't there when Reuben and I left to visit our friends, Brenda. I came in here before we left to brush my hair, and I stood right in front of my mirror. But they
were
here when we got back.”
Reuben spoke up. “So that means that you were in our bedroom while we were out. What were you looking for, Brenda?”
“I wasn't in here. One of the kids must have seen my glasses someplace and brought them in here, thinking they were yours, Camille.”
Camille's expression remained unforgiving. “I doubt it.”
“Brenda,” Reuben said, “I don't know if you're making that up or if that's what really happened, but I'm telling you now so there's no misunderstandings. Our bedroom is off-limits to you, Arnelle, and both your daughters.”
“I'm sure Kierra didn't put my glasses in here. She'd know from looking at them that they were mine. Maybe Mitchell or Shayla.”
Camille rolled her eyes. “My kids know I don't wear glasses, Brenda.”
“Well, maybe it was Lebron.”
Saul's girlfriend's little boy, whose name both she and Reuben had trouble recalling. Brenda was so full of it, Camille thought. That little boy wouldn't even know where their bedroom was. “I doubt—” she began, but stopped when Reuben gestured at her to do so.
“Good night, Brenda,” he said in a tone of dismissal.
“Good night. And thanks. But I'm telling you again,
I
wasn't in here.” She rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Camille pounced on Reuben the moment the door closed. “Why'd you tell me to stop? You know she had to be lying. That kid has never even been in our bedroom. He wouldn't know to put her glasses in here.”
“You're probably right. I can't believe Brenda would stand there and deny with such sincerity that she was in here.”
She put her hands on her hips. “What'd you expect her to say, ‘Oops, I'm busted'? Reuben, as you said, the papers from the house are in my drawer. So are our bank records, and our bills, even our pay stubs. Your sister had plenty of time while we were out to look through it all. Your mother dozed off, and nobody else was here. She probably knows exactly what we paid for this house, how much we put down, exactly how much our mortgage is, what we owe, how much we make, and exactly how much we have in the bank. And that pisses me off.”
“She knows you're pissed. I just think it's gone far enough. I don't want you to say anything that might cause a permanent rift between you two. Trust me, Camille.”
She glared at him, and then, without a word, removed her robe and slid back between the sheets.
On her side, with her back to him.
“Well, that was a nice way to spend a couple of hours,” Milo remarked as they drove back to the Curry house to retrieve Zach. “Be sure to tell your family about the nice holiday we had. I've got a feeling they're in Brooklyn saying among themselves that we probably wish we were there with them instead of so far away with no one we know.”
“You can bet I plan to let them know we had dinner with one set of friends and dessert with another,” Dawn said. “You're right, I'm sure they're thinking we haven't met anyone and we're here all by ourselves—and I want to set them straight.” She paused. “Milo, do you think our families will ever come out to see us?”
“I'm sure they will eventually. We've only been here three months. Even Don and Carmen haven't been out to visit since they helped us move. But I doubt anyone will come out during the winter.”
“Maybe we should consider ourselves lucky,” Dawn said thoughtfully. “It seems like Veronica and Norman always have company. That must get old after a while.”
“Well, from what I see they can afford to have frequent visitors.”
Dawn knew he was referring to the Lees' remodeled bathroom. It did look awfully nice. She could hardly believe that just a few short weeks ago it had been a pink eyesore. “Maybe so. Or maybe they charge a fee. Personally, I can't see how anyone can stand having guests so often.” She paused, uncertain if she should voice her thoughts or just let it go.
She decided that keeping quiet would only increase her annoyance. “But I do wish you hadn't said what you did about the commute.”
“What'd I say? That it's a drain, both physically and financially? Hell, the Lees know that. So do the Currys. It's Norman's sister-in-law who wanted to know.”
“I know, Milo, but the way you said it. Couldn't you tell how impressed everybody was that we'd built our house new? Then you made that crack, and it came out sounding like . . . Well, it sounded like we're hurting or something.”
“I've got a news bulletin for you, Dawn. We
are
hurting. Maintaining this house, plus the cost of getting to work, has turned out to cost a lot more than we bargained for.”
She shrugged, unable to argue with his statement. Of course, they could have saved thousands by not buying a lot on the lake and by sticking with one of the basic models. Instead of pointing that out—after all, she'd been all for it—she might as well bring up the other matter on her mind. “I was hoping we'd be able to have a New Year's party.”
“A party? Are you kidding? Do you know how much that'll cost?”
“Milo, we've been guests at Veronica and Norman's a couple of times now, and today we had dinner at Camille and Reuben's. We've got to reciprocate.”
“Fine. Invite them over to watch a movie or something and put out some munchies. We'll serve some beer and wine. I'd like for us to be able to get out of this house once in a while, Dawn.”
She sighed softly. She understood what he meant and even agreed with it. She didn't want their entire social life to revolve around home activities. Things like travel were still important. This was the first year they hadn't taken a vacation, and even though they felt that moving into their own home more than compensated, they nonetheless missed packing a bag and going to the airport, or even driving to their destination.
She'd already begun contributions to a vacation club for next year, although something along the lines of that seven-day cruise to Bermuda last year was out; no way could she put aside that much. Maybe they'd take a nice drive to the Delaware shore and spend a few days relaxing on the beach.

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