Summertime Dream (14 page)

The numbers on the screen blurred. His stomach grumbled, despite the sandwich half, and a dull headache stomped over his eyes.

How was Margie’s evening going? Saying go ahead, no problem, had been the right thing to do. She deserved a relaxing break after all her hard work.

And how about you? Another Friday night, and you’re working. Again.

Dave’s voice filtered through his brain. “
You gotta get a life outside of work, man. Two weeks out of the year aren’t going to cut it
.”

Dave, you just might be right.

He threw on some clothes and headed out, meaning to walk off some stress and get some air to clear his head, but he ended up on Main Street. The liquor store across from the Olsson’s restaurant also had a small bar in the rear. Baseball games filled the two flat screen televisions, and the place was standing room only, with rowdy, cheerful folks debating calls and rooting for both teams, loud enough he could barely hear himself think. Perfect.

He lucked out and grabbed a stool at the bar as a couple left.

Too much remained unresolved. He hadn’t even sat down with a real estate agent to list the place. He’d have to squeeze that in tomorrow on top of everything else, losing more time with Margie. So much for his usual efficiency.

He pulled out his phone and studied his lengthy to-do list. Way too much left to leave undone. He needed more time, but with the Mohave trip bearing down on him he couldn’t stay.

Do you absolutely have to leave? Think about it. Be honest.

He
opened his calendar. The only critical items were the meetings with Everett in New York on the twenty-ninth and Arthur in Atlanta on August sixth.

Your schedule is your own. Is Mohave really unmovable?

Being with his friends was the best part of his year. He’d been camping with Lloyd, Dave, and Nate every summer since their freshman year in college. He
couldn’t
cancel his vacation.

But…if he changed his flight to the twentieth, he’d gain the additional time needed here, still catch a week at Mohave with his friends, and leave time to pack and prep at his apartment for New York as planned. Even so, with the work remaining, taking just one week more was still cutting it tight.

A week ago, he never would have considered his other option: completely give up his one true vacation of the year to finish mucking out the old house. Choose dust, sweat, and frustration over fishing and fun with his friends?

No, admit the truth. That’s not why you’d give up your vacation. Not even close.

He’d never been this indecisive. Or, depending how you viewed the situation, so impetuous.

He pulled up his reservation on his phone.

A few minutes later, his decision was a done deal and a surprising weight lifted off his mind. He grinned and ordered another beer.

The game ended in extra innings. He finished his last beer, said goodnight to his new baseball friends, and headed for the door, only to run into Joe.

Joe scowled at him, and then suspiciously scanned around the bar.

“Margie’s with her friend Debi. Girls’ night out, she said,” Christopher offered. Why was he defending himself? “Good game tonight.”

Joe nodded, still blocking the doorway. “Listened to it on the radio.”

Would offering to buy Joe a beer break the standoff? Doubtful. “Awesome hit by Newburg and triple play in the fifth, huh?”

Joe grunted and shrugged. “Margie going over to your place tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan.” Christopher grinned. Needling Joe was a stupid idea, but beer and a good mood buoyed him on. “She’s been amazing. She’s made a pain in the neck job fun. I don’t know what I’d have done without her help.” He nearly added his decision to stay on, but he wanted to tell Margie first. “Well, I’m done for the night. See you around.”

Joe narrowed his eyes, as if he had a sharp retort ready, but only pushed past with a growled “Have a good trip home.”

Back at his room, half-sobered up after the long walk, Christopher stripped and flopped on the bed. He eyed his laptop. Too much beer and too much baseball to attempt work now.

Hey, Dave, it’s a Friday night and I didn’t do a lick of work. Good, right?

Come morning, he’d regret the beer and lack of work, but yeah, he’d had a good time.

Now to break the decision to his friends. He eyed the time, took a breath, and dialed Lloyd’s home number.

“Hey, Christopher, ready for some fishing?

“Always.”

“Man, I am so ready to hit the road. Today was a pain in my ass. Every single fricking delivery had something wrong and had to be returned. Working my ass off these past couple weeks to get ready for the vacation shutdown and as Dad likes to say, the hurrieder I go, the behinder I get.” Lloyd heaved a grumbling breath. “Anyhow, I heard from Nate, and I’m picking him up at the airport on Monday. Kay’s at Bryce Canyon and she’ll be arriving the same time as us. Dave’s still waiting on the final word on his schedule, so pray for rain everywhere but Mohave between now and then. Everybody else is set. So, how’s things going? List the house yet?”

“That’s kind of why I’m calling. I’m not going to make it to Mohave with you all this year.”

“Aw, that sucks. Problems?”

“No. Well, no big ones. Just some...things I should handle. The house is packed with a shitload of stuff that I need to decide whether to keep, donate, sell, or trash. It’s family history, even if I never knew them. I just can’t let strangers handle the stuff. Also, Falk’s Bend is nice enough, but off the beaten path. So I thought if I did some repairs and got the place to look less like a dump, a buyer might be more interested.”

“Helps your office is wherever your laptop is.”

“True. Being my own boss I can’t hassle myself over taking extra time off. The power and water are on, so I’ll be moving out of the motel into the house. It’s fine if you don’t mind a place that hasn’t been redecorated since World War II.”

“Sounds fun.” JoAnn joined the call.

“Hi, Jo. Aside from the mice, bats, squirrels, birds, junk, and a couple feet of dust, yeah, I’m strangely enjoying myself. A friend’s been helping me. She’s brilliant with this organizing and cleaning stuff.”

“She?” JoAnn’s interest came across the line loud and clear, along with Lloyd’s chuckle.

Christopher cleared his throat. “Margie. Nice kid. Well, not a kid.” The burn of that rocking-his-world kiss swept through him again. Oh, heck, definitely not a kid. “Met her at that Fourth of July picnic here. Anyhow, she’s been a great help. It’s weird that she knew my great-grandmother and I never did.”

“I bet. We’ll miss you, but sounds like you have your hands full. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” They chatted for a few more minutes before he ended the call. Damn, he was going to miss everyone. Not being with them in July would be like not seeing Mom at Christmas—totally alien—but staying to finish what he’d started here with the house was the right decision.

And with Margie?

Oh, yes, more time to spend with Margie was a major plus.
He
flopped back on the bed with a grin.

He was still grinning the next morning when Margie pulled into the driveway in her dad’s pickup. A light breathless anticipation surged in him at the sight of her, but he ignored the urge to scoop her up in his arms and kept his greeting to a safe kiss to her cheek and the donuts and coffee a shield between them.

He sipped at his coffee, trying to put the brakes on his rushing thoughts and keep from blurting all his half-baked plans. “I’ve been giving things some thought. About the place and all.”

Margie looked up at him with such radiant hope in her face.

His heart took lurching flight. No, he hadn’t made a mistake staying. “I changed my flight. I’m not leaving tomorrow.”

****

Margie’s breath tripped on her shock. “Oh—that’s great! I mean, I hope that’s great, I hope that you wanted to. I know it’s been taking longer than you planned and all to take care of the house and—” A reprieve. How long was he staying? Oh, she had more time!

“I wanted to stay. In fact, I already checked out from the motel and I’m moving in here today. I’ll miss my morning donuts from Mrs. Dobbs though.”

“So when’s your new departure date?” She mulled over how many days he’d possibly squeezed out of his tight schedule if he was to still join his friends on their vacation.

“July twenty-seventh.”

Two more weeks. They had two more weeks together! “But you’ll miss your whole vacation with your friends.”

He shrugged. “I’ll miss them, but I’ll work visits to them into my schedule. I just had to weigh my priorities. Staying here was the right choice.” He took a swallow of coffee. “I’d like to buy a mattress. I hate to think how old the ones upstairs are.”

“We’re in luck then that today’s a sunny day and I have the pickup. You should be able to get one today if you like.”

“That would be great, thanks. How about before the home inspector appointment this afternoon?”

“Sounds good. Which bed and bedroom?”

“The front bedroom over the parlor. I measured and I’ll need a full mattress for that bedframe. Oh—and more news by the way—after you left yesterday, I decided to tackle the bat room, so you wouldn’t have to.”

“Thanks.”

“And I found the pictures in there. A whole stash of them.”

“Really! How exciting. I can’t wait to see them.”

His brow furrowed and his mouth twisted as if tasting something bitter rather than the last tasty bite of his glazed donut. “More disturbing and creepy than exciting. Someone destroyed most of them. I wanted to tell you all about it last night, but didn’t want to interrupt your evening. I also found a trunk of ruined dresses and other women’s belongings that were also packed away with care. “

“What? How strange.”

“Really strange.” He finished his coffee. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Strange, disturbing, and creepy were close to the right description. She ran her hand over one bright scrap of silk. The dresses and books had been deliberately ripped apart. “These were once really nice dresses. Someone with a lot of strength was really angry. But why save them so neatly after all the effort to destroy them?”

The pictures were definitely the Falk family. She sorted through the pieces and was able to put names to some of the faces for Christopher. Reba had been beautiful, if somber-faced, in her younger days. They found a particularly nice photograph of Loretta and Matthew smiling in happier childhood days, looking dressed in Easter Sunday best. It was hard finding an undamaged picture of Carl Falk.

Margie picked up two pieces of a wedding photo of Reba and Carl. The rip split the bride and groom apart and Carl’s piece was crumpled. “I think someone was trying to cut him out of every picture.” She tried to smooth out the crinkles. The ruined photo revealed a strikingly handsome man, but his chill smile and stance radiated arrogance. She found it fascinating to look at the Falk pictures and see how Christopher resembled them in different ways. While he’d definitely inherited some of Carl’s strong bones and brow, he’d gotten Loretta’s eyes and warm smile.

Christopher sighed. “Looks like.”

“Some of these pictures might be repairable.”

“A job for another day.” He gathered up one stack and set the pieces back in the chest. “I want to get the bedroom cleaned up and then we can head out for a mattress.”

“Sounds good.”

Of all the second floor bedrooms, his choice was the most cheerful and might have been the best guestroom, with its fine maple furniture topped with pineapple spindles. The wallpaper and drapes were probably the newest in the home and in decent condition.

They spent the first part of the morning emptying and cleaning the bedroom and scrubbing the second floor bathroom. Mice had chewed holes in the several-decades-past-prime mattress, so that joined the trash in the Dumpster. They resisted sorting the drawer contents, just emptied them into boxes to deal with later. The hooked rugs needed a serious beating on the porch and vacuuming.

They headed out to Collingswood to buy the mattress, as well as a fresh set of sheets, pillows, towels, a new showerhead, and toilet valve, and then stopped for a quick lunch and a well-deserved break.

“So, tell me some about the story you’re writing. If you don’t mind.” He took a bite of his hamburger.

Her mind drew a blank for a scary moment. “Ah, it’s about a girl, coming home after running away years before. She comes back to town to take over her grandmother’s coffee shop. She’s trying to settle back in and confront her fears and the reasons that drove her away. But then she finds a body—it’s a murder mystery of course. Sorry, I’m not used to telling people my stories out loud. I get so nervous and end up telling it wrong. How’s the burger?”

“Good, but not as good as Joe’s.” Christopher took another bite and gave an easy grin. “You don’t have to be nervous with me. I think it’s great you can dream up stories. Tell me more about your heroine, your detective. Is she like you?”

“No!” Margie laughed. “She’s much braver, and she’s not a detective, just a regular person who has to have answers.”

“Like Miss Marple or Jessica Fletcher in
Murder, She Wrote
.”

“Exactly, except younger, of course.”

“Of course. So, there’s a body. What else?”

She dabbled a fry in the ketchup as she pulled her thoughts together. “There’s the man she left behind. He wants back in her life, so there’s a little romance in the story as well, but he might be a suspect, and he might be connected to why she ran away so many years ago. And she has a cousin who’s unhappy with her return, believes she stole his inheritance, and wants her gone.”

“Sounds complicated. And interesting. What happens next?”

“Her cousin believes, because he stayed in town and nursed their Gran, he should inherit everything and is sabotaging her efforts to make a go of running the place. He also has hated the hero since they were kids.”

He kept her talking about her story as they ate and her nerves faded. His easy, intelligent questions prompted some fresh ideas and note taking. She’d never had so much fun sharing her story out loud and bouncing ideas off someone before.