Moving Can Be Murder (10 page)

I ignored that little voice in my head that
announced, Takes one to know one.

I was nitpicking. Trying to find fault with
the poor guy so I wouldn’t have to sell his family our house. Truth
to tell, I was also not happy that, if the house sale went through,
my persnickety neighbor Sara Miller would have free rein here. I
could already hear her, going from room to room with her daughter,
criticizing my decorating choices.

Oh, Carol, get a grip.

Jack and Alyssa Cartwright loved our house.
And it would be wonderful to have this place filled with a young
family again.

So what if his palms were sweaty? He was
probably nervous.

Well, what else could I do? I gave in,
reluctantly, and accepted the offer. And then I had a large Irish
coffee myself.

Sláinte!

The closer we came to moving day, the
grumpier I became. And we still hadn’t found a permanent place to
live. We had a temporary rental, a one-bedroom furnished apartment
the size of a shoe box. It was the only place we could find that
allowed dogs. As a bonus, we could rent week-to-week, so when we
found a property to buy, which I prayed would be soon, there
wouldn’t be a problem getting out of a lease.

I was making slow-to-no progress with the
packing. Jim, cynic that he was, accused me of dragging my feet to
delay the closing, which was totally untrue. Since our rental was
furnished, we only needed personal items and some clothes to go
with us. The rest, including Mike’s precious comics, was going into
the storage unit since, according to our son, it was impossible for
him to come home and do his own packing on such short notice.

At the rate I was going, I’d probably still
be packing when the moving truck pulled up to the door.

I needed help – in more ways than one – so I
enlisted Jenny. I could always count on my daughter to be
sympathetic to my feelings. She even let me whine to my heart’s
content without criticism. Most of the time.

“I hate the feeling of being unsettled,” I
said for probably the hundredth time as we worked side by side in
the dining room, packing up the good china and crystal. “I wish Dad
and I had found a new home before being forced out of our old
one.”

“You and Dad are more than welcome to move
in with me,” said my darling daughter as she helped me wrap some
Waterford crystal goblets in bubble paper. “Of course, you’d have
to sleep on the sofa bed in the living room. Unless I moved in with
Mark.” She smiled at me mischievously.

I considered my reply carefully, for once.
Jenny was a grown-up woman and I had already assumed that her
relationship with Mark had progressed beyond the platonic. Was she
hinting that a wedding could be in the near future? Nah, that was
probably just wishful thinking on my part, coupled with my bad
habit of jumping to conclusions.

“That’s so nice of you to offer, sweetie,” I
said, ignoring the chance to ask a few personal questions, which
just about killed me. “But I’m afraid that if we moved into a small
condo like yours, it might point your father in that direction as a
permanent solution. You know his new mantra for a place to live –
something we can lock and leave. I’m sure he learned that phrase on
HGTV. And what about the dogs? Are they allowed in your
complex?”

“The offer’s good if you get desperate, Mom.
Don’t worry about Lucy and Ethel. I’ve seen other tenants walking
dogs, so I’m sure they’re allowed.

“Where’s Dad this morning? I thought he’d be
here helping you pack.”

“I wish I knew,” I said in frustration. “He
was reading the paper this morning as usual. Scissors in hand, just
in case he found something to clip. You know how he is.”

Jenny laughed and rolled her eyes.

“I was talking about how miserable I felt.
Well, I was complaining,

really.” I sighed. “Poor man, he must be
sick of listening to me by now. Anyway, the next thing I knew, he
shot out of his chair and said he had to go out for a little while.
No explanation. And he’s been gone for more than two hours. With
all this to do.” I gestured around at the growing mass of boxes
that seemed to be taking over every part of the house.

The more I thought about Jim’s behavior, the
madder I got. Here we were, with less than two weeks to go before
we moved out, and My Beloved, whose health was the main reason I’d
agreed to move in the first place, was nowhere to be found.

“Which would you rather have, Mom?” asked
Jenny. “Your husband second-guessing every packing decision you
make and driving you crazy, or one who’s temporarily a.w.o.l.?”

No contest there.

“When you put it like that, I guess I’m
lucky he’s out of the house,” I agreed. “Let’s see how much more we
can get done before he shows up to re-organize us.”

I heard the kitchen door slam, and the dogs
began to bark.

“Too late,” said Jenny. “I’ll go get the lay
of the land. You keep packing. No dilly-dallying.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’ll get right back
to it, ma’am.” Jeez. When did my daughter become so bossy?

I was standing on the step stool, reaching
for my good serving platter, which remained maddeningly beyond my
grasp, when My Beloved materialized to help.

“Carol, you might fall. I’ll get the platter
down for you.”

I bit back a sarcastic reply, like, “Better
late than never,” and when Jim handed me the platter, I took a good
look at him. He was quivering with excitement, like Lucy and Ethel
are when they’re anticipating a treat.

Something was definitely up.

“Sit down, honey. I have some great news.
You’re going to be so happy.”

Jim was bouncing up and down on the balls of
his feet now.

I swept some bubble wrap off a dining room
chair and gave him my complete attention. Lower your expectations,
I warned myself, having learned over the years that Jim’s idea of
great news (a five-cent drop in gas at the pump) and mine (I tried
on a Size 6 dress and actually zipped it up) were usually miles
apart.

“Eden’s Grove had a full-page ad in this
morning’s paper. You remember that place, right?”

Remember it? How could I forget it? The
active adult community that was so “active” I’d need pep pills to
keep up with the pace there. To say nothing of their single-pet
policy, which had completely turned me off.

I felt a prickle of foreboding.

“They’ve re-thought their marketing strategy
to be more competitive in the current real estate market,” My
Beloved continued. “The owners have figured out that multi-pet
families like ours could expand their potential buyer pool.
Especially since all the other active adult communities have a
single-pet policy. So they’re building a section of free-

standing homes that’s pet-friendly. It’s
even going to have a fenced-in dog park. Isn’t that a great
idea?”

I briefly wondered if the dogs would have
scheduled activities as frantic as the humans’.

“Lucy and Ethel will love it there as much
as we will. I put down a deposit on a house this morning. All you
have to do is sign and we’ll be the first home owners in the new
section. They may even use us in their advertising to attract other
buyers.

“So you don’t have to worry anymore about
where we’re going after we close on this house. It’s all set. Isn’t
that terrific?”

Obviously Jim thought he’d pulled off a huge
coup. I wasn’t so sure. And I was plenty aggravated that he hadn’t
consulted me first before making such a major decision.

Of course, I hadn’t consulted him when I
signed the listing agreement to sell our house, either. But I knew
he’d go along with it.

Oh, what the heck. We were moving to a brand
new place with top-of-the-line everything and I could keep both
dogs.

My Beloved would learn to play golf. We
would swim leisurely laps in the pool.

And I could always lock the door and take a
long nap if the frantic pace of activities overwhelmed me.

I hoped I’d at least be able to pick the
color scheme for our new digs.

Chapter 11

Some people sweat. I’m so glam, I ooze
glitter.

The last box had been packed and labeled.
The last closet had been emptied. Even the garage looked clean, for
the first time in twenty years.

My Beloved and I walked through each room
hand in hand, our footsteps echoing in the now-empty house. I was
having trouble holding my emotions in check. Even Jim, who is
rarely emotional, had tears in his eyes, though he’d never admit
it.

“Well, I guess it’s time to go,” he
said.

“Goodbye house. We’ve loved every minute
here.”

Hand-in-hand, we walked out the kitchen door
and locked it for the last time.

And didn’t look back.

I couldn’t sleep.

It was a strange bed, with lots of lumps and
bumps. Or maybe the lumps and bumps were my aging body. Anyway,
this new apartment was going to take some getting used to. Thank
God it was only for a few months, until our Eden’s Woods house was
ready. Assuming it was completed on time, which, according to Nancy
was rare in the construction world.

As if sleeping in a lumpy bed wasn’t bad
enough, I also was having hot flashes for the first time in years.
I figured the stress of moving must have activated my power surge
mechanism. Rats. Who needed this?

My Beloved, of course, was having no trouble
sleeping. His rhythmic snores were a pleasant, familiar sound. Even
my tossing and turning didn’t disturb him. Lucy and Ethel had
adjusted pretty quickly to the new digs, too, each finding a
comfortable spot on the bedroom carpeting and zonking out. Ah, a
dog’s life is one to be envied. Maybe in my next life, I’d come
back as one.

I yanked the blanket off and threw my right
leg on top of it. I forced myself to think of snow and sleet and
polar ice caps.

It was no use. I was still hot and sleep was
out of the question. I had to get out of the apartment and get some
fresh air.

When my bare feet hit the icy floor, I
winced. Now, I was cold. But definitely wide awake. I grabbed my
sweats, socks and sneakers and dressed quietly. I was out the door,
car keys in hand, in a New York minute.

I sat in my car, motor running, and pondered
my options. What would be open at this time of night? A Dunkin’
Donuts? The Fairport Diner?

What you don’t need, Carol, is a shot of
caffeine.

Nah. Who was I kidding? I knew where I was
going.

I turned in the direction of my
soon-to-be-former home. I was going to give myself a private pity
party and walk through it one more time all by myself.

As I drove into our driveway, I wondered
fleetingly if I could be charged with breaking and entering. I
squelched that thought. It was still our house until we signed the
papers at tomorrow morning’s closing.