Autumn Leaves (2 page)

Callie shrugged. “I didn’t, really. I had to get away from everyone and everything, and I inherited this house from my aunt some time ago. I was going to sell it—but things happened, and here I am.”

“You lived in Hollywood?”

“What? No.” Callie gave her a puzzled look. “I lived on the West Coast until a few years ago, yes, but the only time I’ve been to Hollywood was on a vacation. What made you think that?”

Rebecca chuckled self-consciously. “I’m really mortified now. Somebody heard something...You know how it is in a small town. I should have known better.”

“I don’t really know how it is,” Callie said, “but if everyone’s as nice as you are, I don’t see a problem.” She winked, making Rebecca blush for some reason she couldn’t quite fathom.

“Thank you. What do you need the plumber for anyway?” she asked, to steer the topic into safer, small-talk waters.

“Right.” Callie rolled her eyes. “The faucet keeps dripping like mad. It’s driving me crazy. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep through the night with that sound.”

“Want me to take a look?”

The doubtful look Callie shot her spoke volumes. Rebecca had to admit that her cardigan and slacks probably didn’t give her the look of somebody you’d trust with your plumbing problems.

“David, my husband, is on business trips a great deal of the time. That means I had to develop some skills along the way or live with the consequences.”

Callie laughed happily. “Let’s see, you bring me food and booze. You’ve known me for five minutes and still haven’t said I talk too much, and you’re fixing my faucet? You’re already my favorite neighbor.”

You could be mine,
Rebecca thought, pleased. She set down her cup and got up.

“All right, I need to get Maggie from practice in a little while, so I better get started.”

She discarded the cardigan and hung it over a chair, stepped out of her pumps and put them underneath. The black T-shirt she wore and the slacks were fine for this kind of work. She could come up with a verdict quickly.

“I think it’s just the mounting nut under the sink that needs to be tightened.”

“Um…” Callie didn’t seem to know what to make of that piece of information. “Whatever you say.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. Cole’s prices are outrageous anyway. So what do you do?” Rebecca asked, still half-buried under the sink.

“I write,” Callie said.

“What kind of things?”

“Lesbian erotica.”

“Ow!”

Getting upright, Rebecca promptly hit her head. Callie had some kind of humor. A good thing Betty wasn’t here or the story would have easily topped the no-name-Hollywood-actress one.

“You want me to work on your pipes and not mess up the job, don’t say things like that.”

“Why? It’s true.”

Rebecca came out from under her temporary workplace to look at her neighbor skeptically. “There’s a market for that? Really?”

“I can afford to keep this house, if that’s what you meant.” Callie’s tone was somewhat guarded now.

“Sure. Whatever.” There was an indiscreet question on the tip of her tongue, and Rebecca thought she’d better finish here before it slipped out.

“I write all kinds of things.” Callie sighed. “This is just one section, you know. If you want to ask, just ask me already.”

“None of my business. The faucet should be okay now.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Rebecca let the water run for a moment, then turned it off, satisfied that there was no more noisy dripping. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment of hesitation. “It’s your life. I didn’t mean to judge.”

“Well,” Callie said somberly, “sometimes, when people say I talk too much, I suppose they’re right.”

“No, they’re not. I asked. If you want some advice, though, don’t tell everybody. News travels fast in a small community.” Realizing what she’d just said Rebecca shook her head. “Now listen to me. You’ve been here for a day and I’m already scaring you off. I’m sorry.”

“No harm done. I appreciate the warning. Besides, I write children’s books too. Oh, and, Rebecca…?”

Her hand already on the door handle, Rebecca turned around.

“Feel free to come over whenever you like. I’ll be here most of the time, writing, and I love distractions.”

Rebecca felt ridiculously relieved that Callie didn’t begrudge her the earlier misunderstanding. “I’ll remember that,” she said. “Don’t forget to call off the plumber.”

* * * *

It was Rebecca’s turn to host the weekly brunch she with her friends on Saturdays. Once again browsing the aisles at the supermarket, she wondered if she should invite Callie. The young woman seemed pretty open-minded, but she wasn’t sure about adding her to the group without warning to the others. Maybe next time? She was still somewhat rattled about the question that remained unanswered. Rebecca couldn’t even explain to herself why it mattered. Even with her friends around, her attention was drifting to her encounter with the new neighbor.

“So, you met the actress?” Maria asked. She was married to Sheriff Craig Lowman, David’s brother. Of course they would want to know.

“She’s not an actress. She’s…” Rebecca stopped herself just short of telling Betty that Callie was unlikely to be interested in anybody’s husband. It was none of their business, and none of hers. “Nice, actually,” she finished the sentence.

“That means you introduced yourself already.” Betty winked.

“Well, yeah. She’s our neighbor now. I just wanted to be polite.”

“The plumbing job was part of being polite too?” Roz wanted to know, and everyone laughed, making Rebecca self-conscious. Where had she heard that?

“It was just the faucet,” she defended herself. “I would’ve felt bad leaving her with Cole. He’s a creep, and he charges you double too.”

Roz and Maria exchanged a meaningful look.

“He does! I won’t ever let him into the house again unless David’s around.”

“Speaking of which...”

Rebecca had tuned out the chatter for a moment, so when Betty spoke to her, she had missed that part of the conversation.

“Oh well,” Betty said. “You with us again, or still dreaming of kitchen sinks?”

Rebecca had the childish impulse to stick her tongue out at her friend.

* * * *

When Rebecca was jolted out of her sleep Sunday night, it wasn’t as usual by her 5:00 a.m. alarm, but the weepy voice of her daughter.

“Mommy? I had a horrible dream.”

Rebecca reached over to switch on a light, realizing it was shortly after four.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry.” She pulled back the covers and got up, shivering at the loss of their warmth as she reached out to hug Maggie.
Oh no.
The girl’s skin was fever-hot. No wonder she got bad dreams.

“You want to tell me what it was about?”

“Don’t know,” Maggie mumbled. Her eyes were glassy, her face flushed.

“Let’s get you back to bed first,” Rebecca decided, “and we’re gonna take your temperature. I’m afraid you’re sick.”

“My throat hurts.”

“I can imagine.”

Rebecca walked Maggie back into her room and tucked her in, suppressing a yawn, as she brushed her hand over the girl’s warm forehead.

“Give me a second, okay? I’ll get you something to drink and make the pain go away.”

Maggie nodded miserably.

A couple of minutes later Rebecca returned from the kitchen, armed with Children’s Tylenol and a glass of water, tea water boiling on the stove. She sat by Maggie’s bed listening for the sound of the kettle while they were waiting for the verdict. Rebecca could already guess, though, and she wasn’t surprised when the temperature turned out to be 103. Thirteen minutes after four. She adjusted Maggie’s pillow, taking the girl’s warm hand in hers when she heard the kettle’s whistle. Rebecca all but jumped up, so Dina wouldn’t be woken. She had a chemistry test today, Rebecca remembered.

“I’m cold,” Maggie told her when she came back.

Actually, she was just the opposite. “I know, Maggie. The tea is going to be good in a few minutes.”

Maggie made a face at the taste of the herbal tea, but it was a testimony to her condition that she didn’t even protest. Rebecca used Maggie’s quick trip to the bathroom to change the sheets on the girl’s bed and tucked her in again afterwards. She pulled the armchair in the corner closer to the bed, settling in for the rest of the night.

* * * *

David called to tell her he had to stay for another week. “I miss you,” he whispered over the phone, and Rebecca’s reaction was delayed long enough for him to wonder if she fell asleep on him.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there with you now,” he said regretfully.

“It’s okay. The fever’s down already. We’ll be fine.”

It had taken a while for that and the bath in tepid water hadn’t done anything to Maggie’s increasingly cranky mood, but it had indeed helped. After seeing Dina off to school and a quick coffee for herself, Rebecca had gotten Maggie to eat a few spoonfuls of chicken soup. She was now sleeping soundly.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “We’re going to take that trip to Disneyland this year after all.”

Rebecca laughed tiredly. “How would a trip to Disneyland be making it up to me?” she teased.

“You got me there. I’ll find other ways for you.”

“You better.”

It was amazing how from this many miles away, he could still make her feel better. Anyway, it was Tuesday already. Not too long until the weekend, right?

“Damn it!”

“Are you okay?” David asked worriedly.

“Yes. No. I’m sorry, there’s an appointment I forgot about. I’ve got to go.”

Right there on the counter in the red folder, she had her presentation for the mayor’s office all ready. She had some great ideas for the new site, including some of her own photography. Autumn Leaves was a beautiful town, and Rebecca was quite confident the mayor would like the layout she’d suggested just as well. The only problem was that the meeting took place in twenty minutes. How could she have forgotten this when she was working on it all month?

To cancel on Mayor Beckett now would look completely unprofessional. Dina wouldn’t come home for two more hours, and there was no way for Maggie to stay alone sick.

Rebecca picked up the phone again and called Betty, biting her lip nervously as she waited for her friend to pick up.

“You have reached the home of the LaRues. Unfortunately—”

Betty picked up the phone a second before Rebecca would have hung up and sworn in frustration. “Sweetie, what’s up?”

“Betty, thank God. I need to ask you a big favor.”

* * * *

The week went by in a blur. By Friday morning, Maggie was well enough to go back to school. Rebecca did the finishing touches on the website and stocked up the fridge with goods to make a romantic dinner for when David would finally return. There was literally nothing to do, but for some reason, the thought of just sitting down and resting for a moment was making her antsy.

After some indecisive moments, she went outside, locking the front door behind her, and walked over to the house across the street. When she rang the doorbell and several moments passed without an answer, Rebecca, feeling foolish, turned around. Callie’s car stood in the carport, but maybe she’d just been polite when she’d said that visits were welcome. Come to think of it, Rebecca had practically invited herself the first time, and now she did it again. Callie had just moved here. She might find this weird.

“Rebecca! Wait!”

She spun around to see Callie standing on her front porch, barefoot and in black satin pajamas. Like she’d just come out of—

“I’m so sorry. I’ll come back another time.”

Rebecca was truly mortified. If you caught a person at this time of the day and week still in bed, that could only mean one thing. The last thing that person would want right now was a friendly neighbor visit.

“No way. I was about to make coffee anyway. Come. I mean it!”

Hesitantly, Rebecca followed her into the house.

“How’s the faucet?”

“It’s great, no more dripping. I just realized I let you go with just a ‘thanks’. Have you had breakfast yet?”

Have I...?
Rebecca realized she completely forgot.

“You don’t have to...”

“I insist. You just sit down, okay?”

With some relief, Rebecca realized she was wrong. Callie didn’t have company. In the sunlit kitchen, she set the table in no time, bagels, jam, fruit, and juice. The coffeemaker was running. Now she leaned back against the counter, studying Rebecca curiously.

“I haven’t seen you all week. You’ve been busy?”

“Kind of. I do a little freelance work on the side.” The scent of the coffee was intoxicating. “You?”

“Yeah,” Callie said as she carried the pot to the table and poured a mug full of coffee for both of them. “I’ve got a deadline. That lesbian stuff, you know.”