Trouble In Bloom (12 page)

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Authors: Heather Webber

BOOK: Trouble In Bloom
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My backpack thumped my shoulder blades as I stomped along the sidewalk. I slowed when I saw a familiar car pull into the driveway across the street. It parked behind a dark sedan I hadn't noticed before.
The door to the sedan opened, and I recognized Jennie Nix, the Realtor selling the house. She greeted Brickhouse
Krauss as she stepped out of her brand new Camry hybrid.
Oh. My. God.
Was Brickhouse looking at the house? To buy it?
No, not poss—
They went inside.
Brickhouse Krauss. Living across the street from me.
Panic flared. Even though we'd been getting on okay, I didn't want to be living within a hundred feet of her.
Deep breath. In, out.
Zen.
Breathe.
I unclenched my hands just in time to be wrapped from behind in an intimate dance hold. His heart beat steadily against my spine. His strong arms held me firmly. By the way my stomach flopped around behind my belly button, I knew who it was; I didn't have to look at his face.
"Sigh, he'd be hot and steamy," Kevin singsonged, mocking my answer from the show the night before.
I jabbed him in his diaphragm with my elbow, then spun around as he bent double, gasping for breath.
Hitching my backpack onto my shoulder, I looked at him, feeling no remorse.
Okay, some remorse, but I didn't dwell. That was something the old me would have done.
"Serves you right for mocking me," I said.
Slowly, he stood upright. Though he had to still be hurting, a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It was worth it, holding you like that. You look great, by the way. Stunning."
I rolled my eyes. "What're you doing here, anyway?"
"Riley. We're doing a movie and dinner."
"Then do."
"He's getting ready."
"I'll spur him on." I headed toward the house, only to be stopped by my neighbor diagonally across the street, Flash Leonard.
"Hey cutie!" The neighborhood's geriatric playboy twirled me.
I broke into a smile, settled my right hand into his left and put my other arm around his back. Flash didn't move too fast these days, so I figured a little less spinning would probably be best.
Over his shoulder I spotted Kevin. He looked jealous. I smiled wider, feeling better.
"My sister is in town," Flash said. "Let me introduce you."
We tangoed across the lawn, over to a lovely woman speaking with the Molari brothers.
"Nina, this is my little sister, Sue Evans. She'll be staying with me until Christmas."
"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Evans." I shook her hand.
"Please call me Sue. Or Miss Sue, if you're one of those respectful types."
She had lovely hazel eyes, heavy on the green, that shone through her purple-rimmed glasses. Wavy white hair streaked with silver set off her beautiful complexion.
A little fluffy dog sat at her feet.
"That's Bear," she said, following my gaze.
"What breed?"
"Yorkie-poo. Part Yorkshire, part poodle."
"He's adorable." I scratched his ears, and he fl opped over onto his back hoping I'd rub his belly.
He could keep on hoping.
"Great party, isn't it?" Flash said.
"It is."
"That mother of yours is one special mama."
I looked around at the construction workers mingling with the picketers mingling with my neighbors, all smiles and laughter. "Yeah, I guess she is."
"I love the hair, by the way. Very snazzy. Always did have a thing for blondes." He winked and twirled me again.
As I spun I caught sight of my mother on the front porch. She was smiling and tapping her foot. Her gaze met mine. She squinted, then her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
Right. The makeover.
She started down the steps toward me, then she must have remembered she was avoiding me. Like a startled deer, she froze, then turned and scurried into the house, slamming the door behind her.
"Miss Sue, it was nice to meet you! Flash, save me another dance! Gotta go!" I dashed after my mother.
The front door was locked. She must have forgotten I lived there. I stuck my key in the lock, let myself in.
"Mom!"
"No mama
aqui,
" a squeaky muffled voice said.
I walked over to the hall closet, pulled open the door.
My mother waltzed out, fl uffing her hair. "Hi c
hérie
! Let me look at you. The hair! Divine. Oh lordy, lordy, is that a manicure?" she squealed. "Have I died and gone to heaven? I must tell Maria. I'll just grab my bag and go."
She was fast. She almost made it to the door before I said, "Stop right there!"
She stopped. Mid-stride. And slowly turned, giving me a little shrug. "It wasn't right that everyone was out there, just waiting. Hungry. I had to do something."
I held up a hand. "It's okay."
"It is?"
"It is."
Before I forgot, I said, "You need to call Tam. She doesn't want a baby shower—"
She held up her hand. "Already taken care of. I spoke to Tamara earlier. She also agrees that you look fabulous, but couldn't call, something about the cameras and hackers. I'm sure there's a story there, but I couldn't get it out of her. Anyhow, we've come up with something else."
I tossed my backpack on the couch. "Something else?"
"
Pah
, don't worry. It's all taken care of."
For some reason, I was suddenly worried.
"Now tell me all about this," she said, motioning to me with grand sweeps of her arm. "You look just gorgeous, Nina. Gorgeous."
"Thanks."
"Tell all."
"You've already heard it all from Ana."
"Secondhand hearsay. I want all the details."
"It's a long story," I said, heading into the kitchen.
"I have time. Where are you going?" she asked.
"To get some glasses—and tequila."
"Ooh! I'll get the limes."
After downing one shot of tequila (my limit), I felt much better.
"Have you heard anything about Mrs. Krauss moving in across the street?"
My mother poured her shot glass to the rim, her third. She held up the bottle, an offer to me. I shook my head. I was driving later.
"She might have mentioned something."
I looked out the kitchen window, over the heads of the revelers. A split story, the house across the street had been vacant for nearly two months, but only on the market for two weeks. It was overpriced, in my opinion, but since the housing market had skyrocketed in this area, even the older homes felt the boom.
I hoped and hoped Brickhouse Krauss couldn't afford the place. How much could a Catholic school teacher's pension be anyway?
I noticed one of the picketers, a chubby fellow with a grainy salt and pepper beard, buzz cut, and big, wide eyes glance over his shoulder toward the house. "Buzz" looked guarded, as if he was hiding something. Hard to hide something with a giant picket sign reading REALITY TV IS IMORAL written on it. And harder to be taken seriously with
immoral
spelled wrong.
What was he up to, that Buzz?
Footsteps pounded the stairs. Riley rarely did anything gracefully. Or quietly. Things were always being slammed around. "I'm leaving," he called out.
Before I could get a "'Bye" out of my mouth, the front door opened and then slammed shut.
My mother hadn't seemed to notice. "We've got to take you shopping," she declared. She licked salt off the top of her hand, then downed the tequila. "Your wardrobe has got to go." She snapped her fingers. "A bonfire! With marshmallows!"
"We are not burning my clothes."
"
Pah
. Fine. But we still must shop. My treat!"
"Sorry, I already have plans to shop with a friend."
"Wshtyrmma?"
Amused, I glanced at her. "The lime, Mom. The lime."
She took it out of her mouth, dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Without your mama?"
"Sorry. First come, first served."
She pouted. Then brightened.
Oh no.
"Handbag shopping, then! I've been waiting for years to get rid of that suitcase you carry around!"
"It's a leather backpack, not a suitcase."
"It has to go! It doesn't match the new you, c
hérie.
" She giggled.
The new me. People were noticing. That had to be a good thing. Or so I told myself. "Maybe we should put the tequila away."
She slapped my hand as I reached for the bottle.
"Then let me call Dad to come pick you up."
She giggled again.
Movement at the window caught my eye. I glanced out just in time to see a head bob past. A buzzed-cut head. I leaned farther and saw Buzz pull out a cell phone as he ducked around the corner of the house.
My nosiness got the better of me. "I'll be right back."
"No!"
"No?"
"Not until you promise me!"
"Promise what?"
"That you'll go shopping with me, c
hérie
!" She burst into all-out laughter as she poured another finger of tequila. I couldn't help but laugh with her. My mother was a fun drunk. "To buy a nice bag, so you don't look like a hag!"
"All right. Just don't be a
nag.
" I didn't say I promised. I rarely broke my promises.
She doubled over with laughter. "Bag, hag, nag!"
I left as she poured her shot glass to the rim again.
I stepped into the laundry room, slowly pulled open the back door, which was actually a side door, since it opened into the side yard facing Mr. Cabrera's house. I stuck my head out, but all I could hear was a hollow sounding "Ants Marching."
Creeping out, I went right, toward the backyard. Probably Buzz was calling home, checking on his family, making sure they were being moral. But something about the way he snuck away made me suspicious.
All my day lilies had begun to wilt, but my pansies still looked decent. Soon I'd be spending a whole weekend out here, pulling things up, getting everything ready for winter.
At the back corner of the house I paused. I heard Buzz say, " . . . not comfortable, nice people." After a second, he added, "I know I'm not getting paid to be comfortable."
Paid?
"Miz Quinn!"
I jumped, banging my elbow against the brick facade of the house. I lurched toward Mr. Cabrera, pulling him toward the front yard. I looked back over my shoulder. No sign that Buzz had seen me snooping.
"Is Celeste okay?" he asked. "She keeps talking about Louis Vuitton and Chanel, the Wicked Witch of the West, and you."
"Bags and hags and nags," I said.
He raised a bushy eyebrow at me.
"Don't ask."
Today he wore a bright blue button-down with leaping dolphins, jeans, and those funny slip-on shoes that looked like something Aquaman would wear. "Have something to do with your hair?"
"Kinda."
"Well, I don't like it."
"Bags, hags, or nags?"
"Your hair! What's the deal, girlie? You can't just go and change without a word of warnin' to anyone."
Now I arched
my
eyebrow.
"First it's the hair, then it's the parties on the front lawn, what's next?" He harrumphed, crossed his arms, looked altogether put out. "Married and movin' away?"
I was about to debate the party comment, since it hadn't been my idea, but the look on his face stopped me. Mr. Cabrera puffed out his chest and his jaw jutted stubbornly, but his blue eyes were sad.
I saw through to the heart of his bravado. "Awww, I'm not going anywhere."
He huffed. "Never said you were."
I smiled. "Even if Bobby and I did get married, I wouldn't move, Mr. Cabrera. We'd live here."
"Hmmph." He stomped away—or tried to. His limp made it difficult. I couldn't help but notice the smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Right about the time I noticed Brickhouse Krauss come out of the house across the street and shake the Realtor's hand.
Talk about wicked witches.
I spotted Riley doing a tango with Mrs. Greeble. He looked mortified. Mr. Cabrera cut in and Riley took off, jumping into Kevin's pickup. They slowly pulled away from the curve, Kevin giving me a nod as they passed. Riley didn't so much as look in my direction.
Sometimes I wondered why I loved that boy so much.
My cell rang. Madonna went quiet as I answered.
"Nina, it's Josh Drake. You called?"
"Josh, hi. I was hoping you could put me in touch with Jessica."
"Why?"
"I'd like to talk to her, get more details about the harassment." Searching for a quiet spot, I sat down on Mr. Cabrera's front steps. To block out noise, I covered my free ear with my hand.
"I don't think that's necessary, Nina."
"I'd like to know just how Willie came on to her, where, when. If anyone was around. If Thad's ever made a pass. What she might have seen around the set."
"All unnecessary."
My hackles went up. "Why's that?"
"I need your impression of the goings on at
Hitched or
Ditched
. Not your impressions of Jessica's impressions."
It took me a second to decipher the double talk. "It would help me be more aware."
"It's not going to happen. Jessica is unreachable, doing a calendar shoot in Mexico. She won't be back until late tonight. Besides, this matter is probably all moot."
"How so?"
"Can't discuss it, but there's a settlement in the works."
"So Bobby and I are on the show, why?"
"Well, to find out if you should get hitched. Or ditched." He laughed and hung up.
I called him a few choice words, something the old me would have done too. There were some things I just wasn't ready to let go.

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