We Interrupt This Date (24 page)

“You’re saying you want me to leave now instead of
working out my week.” Wow, I felt almost as psychic as Patty
claimed to be.

“That’s what I’m saying. No hard feelings, Ms.
Caraway. Family is family.”

I was the last person to disagree with that
statement. “I understand. Completely. Uh, it’s been nice working
for you, Odell.” Now that I was officially dismissed, I couldn’t
get out of there fast enough. I went back and grabbed my sweater
and my purse, waved to Brenda, who was on the phone, and scooted
behind the counter to give Patty a quick good-bye hug.

“It’s not good-bye, it’s see you later. ‘Cause we are
still close friends and I do expect you to call. We can still meet
for lunch.” Patty wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. “Find
out where your mother’s former lover is staying, and I’ll ride
shotgun when you go after him. I mean it, hon.”

I winced. Mama would die if she ever heard anyone
refer to Philip as her former lover. As for going after him, that
wasn’t part of my plan. I figured a simple call to an attorney
should get him out of the picture for good.

“I’ll call you. That’s a promise.” For lunch. Not for
Philip Beauchamp hunting.

I consulted my watch. Still a few good hours left to
go antique hunting in Charleston. First I called home to check on
Mama and DeLorean. They’d been suspiciously silent all day, and I
needed five minutes to verify that they hadn’t become embroiled in
another crisis or destroyed the house.

DeLorean took the call. A deep sigh of self-pity
whooshed over the line and I braced myself.

“You have no idea what it’s like being stuck in this
house all day,” she whined, without even asking how I was doing.
For all she knew, I could have been in the clutches of pawnshop
robbers or suffering from a fatal case of food poisoning. I allowed
myself a moment of annoyance, but I knew a slight from DeLorean was
not what really bothered me.

I took a deep breath and said, “I know it’s tough,
but I’ll take over and let you get some rest as soon as I get home.
I do love you, little sister, and I know it isn’t easy to
Mama-sit.” After Philip had shown up yesterday, we’d both decided
we couldn’t leave Mama alone again in case he returned.

“You’re a doll.” Her voice held a smile.

“Yeah, I am, and you make sure you remember
that.”

Next I rang Jack’s number. I’d decided I needed to
apologize for cutting our evening short, though I still didn’t
think I’d been wrong to go home to handle a family emergency. Busy.
I tried twice more and then got his office. Jack was in a meeting.
Right. Veronica’s meeting. I wouldn’t have thought it would have
lasted this long. I left a message for him to call back. Almost as
an afterthought, I called Veronica’s number and left a message that
I was now available full time if she needed me. I headed out for
Charleston’s antique stores wishing I knew what the future held. No
I didn’t. I couldn’t stand it if I knew for sure that the future
was as bleak as I imagined it.

Veronica hadn’t told me what she was willing to pay
for the furnishings, and I was so caught up with my problems, I
hadn’t thought to ask. All I could do was find what she wanted and
put holds on the items. It took me the rest of the afternoon, but I
managed to locate a couch and an entire bedroom suite.

By the time I finished shopping, Jack hadn’t returned
my call. He was obviously a lot more ticked off than I’d figured.
So, who needed him? A week ago, I’d practically forgotten Jack ever
existed and all I had to do was forget him again.

Monday was yoga night, but with Mama and DeLorean at
the house, I decided I’d skip it. Okay, I was being a poor yoga
student and probably some day I’d regret my failure to limber up.
But right now I didn’t feel more than a twinge of yoga-skipping
guilt. I climbed into the van and stuck the key in the ignition.
The opening bars to
When the Saints Come Marching In
sounded
from my cell phone, and I snatched it out of its holster and said
hello without even checking the caller ID.

“Got your message. Thrilled you can start right away.
Come to Blackthorn House tomorrow morning—eight o’clock.” As usual,
Veronica sounded like someone who was juggling ten bowling pins and
doing the Highland fling while she spoke on the phone.

“But I need to find the antiques,” I protested,
trying not to sound too disappointed that Veronica wasn’t Jack
returning my call. I’d planned on heading out about nine thirty or
so and getting to Charleston after the stores opened.

“Scrap that. I’ve hired a decorator and she’ll do the
buying.”

I held back a sigh of exasperation. “I’ve already
picked out some stuff that was exactly what you wanted and put it
on hold.” I wouldn’t be able to work for her if she kept changing
her plans. I made a mental note to discuss this issue with her.

“You did? Okay, call my receptionist and have her
give you the number for the decorator. Tell her—the decorator—what
you found and I’m sure she’ll go ahead and pick it up. See you in
the morning.”

“Wait, doesn’t this decorator have a name?”

She’d already rung off without hearing my last
question, but I didn’t take offense. Veronica actually seems to rev
into a special gear to manage her various businesses. I hoped she
didn’t expect the same level of energy out of me. It was all I
could do to manage my home life—mainly my family and their
problems—and still get to work every day. I went ahead and called
Veronica’s office and then the decorator.

I pretended it didn’t matter if Jack stayed mad at me
forever. I started the van and joined the early rush hour heading
out of Charleston toward the high span of the new Arthur Ravenel
Bridge over the Cooper River. Toward my right a huge ship, a
freighter of some kind, was heading east to some unknown port. I
wondered what it would be like to run away to sea and not tell Mama
or my sister.

Eight was way too early to be meeting Veronica
downtown--especially since Jack’s truck was parked in the empty lot
next door and, having not yet had coffee, I wasn’t ready to face
him. I’d been in too much of a hurry to get out of the house and
avoid the latest squabble between Mama and DeLorean to take time
out for coffee and now I was deeply regretting my haste.

Apparently Mama had decided my sister should cut her
hair into a short, sassy bob that would look “ever so much more
stylish and more suited to the hot weather of the
South
,”
and DeLorean had decided that
South
or not, how she wore her
hair was her own business. They’d tried to get me to take sides.
I’d held up my hands, protested lateness, an impending headache,
and a bad hair day. They were still bickering when I scooted out
the door.

Veronica was dressed in a navy business suit and a
frilly, low-cut, white blouse. Her gold earrings and matching
necklace were equally stylish. She’d had her hair done and if there
was a strand out of place, I couldn’t see it. I, on the other hand,
had pulled my hair back with a couple of clips to get it off my
face. Mama had made a remark about me needing to learn to French
braid, and I’d replied that I lacked the hair styling gene and
that’s when she’d turned her hairdo advice on DeLorean. I’d slipped
into office casual--freshly ironed slacks and yellow cotton blouse,
light make-up, low heeled leather shoes. Practical, comfortable,
and why hadn’t I thought to dress like Veronica?

“Going to a business luncheon?” I asked.

Veronica glanced down and smoothed her skirt. A tiny
smile of satisfaction played around her bee stung lips--product of
the collagen injections she’d gotten last month. “As a matter of
fact, I am.”

“You look especially pretty today.” She could have
been a beauty queen if she’d been a few inches taller and didn’t
mind offering insipid answers to stupid questions thought up by
pageant judges.

“Thanks.” She didn’t return the compliment, not that
I deserved it. But still. “I’m going to show you around first, and
then you can start. I’ve fixed you an office in the
front--computer, phone, fax. You’ll love it. I know you can’t wait
to get started.”

I peered around cautiously and was relieved to see no
sign of Jack. Of course, I wanted to try to get him to understand,
to let him know I hoped to continue our friendship. I just didn’t
want Veronica around to hear what I had to say.

“Come on,” she said, waving her hand in hurry up
motions. “I’m running late. First a quick tour of the finished
section. We can’t go in the construction area, though. It isn’t
safe.”

“Good. I mean, good idea, we wouldn’t want to fall
through the floor or anything.” Or run into Jack.

After a whirlwind tour of the front of the house, I
came away with an impression of your typical antebellum Charleston
house. Sweeping staircase, hardwood floors, grand chandelier.
Modern touches such as electricity and bathroom added later, of
course. If there were ghosts in the house, I didn’t hear or see
them. I hoped the tourists would have better luck. Otherwise I’d
feel like a fraud.

Veronica showed me to a well-lighted, beautifully
restored room at the front of the house. “This is the parlor, but
for now it’s your office. Help yourself to anything you need. After
the construction is finished, you can move up to the third
floor--there’s a huge room up there with a fabulous view.”

Apparently sensing my faint misgivings, she added,
“Don’t worry, Susan. This business is going to take off and you’ll
do great.”

“I’m counting on it. And, Veronica, thanks for giving
me a chance. You’re a super person and a really good friend.” I
meant every word. If it weren’t for her, I’d be spending the
morning at the unemployment office, waiting in line and hoping that
I could still draw a check, even though Odell had pretty much fired
me.

“I’m the one thanking you.” She gave me a quick hug.
“I’m so glad you’ve finally recovered from your divorce. I’ve been
really worried about you for the longest time. I mean, you’re
always too willing to carry the world on your shoulders. Put some
of the blame on T. Chandler where it belongs instead of taking all
the responsibility on yourself. Takes two, remember?”

My face flushed. She’d told me the same thing a
million times since I’d gotten divorced, which didn’t make me feel
one bit better. I’d read somewhere that people who are overly
responsible and self-sacrificing are really egotists who are simply
engaged in a big power grab. Not exactly flattering. I didn’t like
to think of myself as a big power grabber.

“Could we please change the subject?” Like a little
kid begging for another bowl of ice cream I shot her a quick smile
and then stared down at my feet, barely resisting an impulse to dig
my toe into the floor.

“Silly. Of course we can. You know when you called
and told me you were going to look for a better job, I could tell
by your voice you’d finally started to wake up and move into the
future. Perfect, I thought, just in time for my ghost tours. I’ll
let Susan handle it.”

Apparently the same thought that everyone in my
family had. Often. And at the same time. Must be something to do
with the collective unconscious I’d learned about in a book Patty
gave me for my birthday.

For the next few minutes, Veronica flitted around
like a demented sparrow, pointing out the location of anything I
might need, while I kept nodding and saying “great.” Almost as an
afterthought, she slid open a drawer and pulled out another thick
packet--this one about the house’s history. Photos were included.
She glanced at her watch, let out a shriek, and flew out the door,
leaving me in my brand new office, which included a mini fridge. I
allowed myself a smile of satisfaction. Despite my doubts about
ghost hunting tours, the workplace made Odell’s shop look like a
slum.

A coffeepot beckoned from a table under the window. I
made a fresh pot and settled in to sort through the stack of
photos.

I hadn’t done anything like this, not since my
college days when I’d handled the paperwork and advertising for
Veronica’s gift basket business, but the actual work was easy. The
research I needed had been included in the packet and all I had to
do was organize it and pull it together into a condensed
version.

Occasionally I glanced out the window. The view from
the front window was not, like the view from the pawnshop, a
parking lot in a seedy looking neighborhood. Instead I could see a
brick mansion and a well-tended yard across the street. Traffic was
steady, but even the car noises and the steady clop of horses’
hooves as they passed by pulling carriages weren’t enough to
distract me.

I even forgot that Jack was in the building. Kind of.
Until he sauntered into my office and asked to use the phone.

I glanced up from my monitor to see him standing
barely inside the doorway as if he intended to cut and run should I
react like a cornered bear defending its cubs. “Give me a second
and I’ll go in the other room while you make your call.” I sounded
so prim I even disgusted myself.

“That’s okay. It’s not private.” He strode over to
the phone, picked up the receiver, and punched in a number.

Still uncertain about whether I should leave, I
turned back to my work. I heard him tell someone he had to run home
and change first or he might get thrown out of the place. He was
wearing a long sleeved shirt and jeans, both of them showing signs
of having spent hours in close proximity to a construction site.
There were even a few strands of puffy pink insulation dotting the
top of his head.

He hung up. “Thanks. My cell phone’s dead. It does
that whenever I forget to charge the battery.”

No wonder he hadn’t returned my call. I stood and put
both hands on my desk. No time like now, before I lost my nerve.
“Jack--I’m sorry about the other night. The last thing I wanted was
to leave you and run home to deal with Mama and DeLorean.”