Sound Advice (Sensations Collection #1) (21 page)

“I can’t seem to stay away,” he said in the direction of the dead bush. I wanted to make a smart-mouthed remark about how he certainly stayed away last night, but decided against it. I remembered him begging me to get out of his head on his drunken birthday escape to my back porch, but now he seemed to have a different tone. A tone of surrender.

“Oh.”

Now it was Jess’ turn to change the subject. “So what about the lawyers?”

“I, um, meet with them tomorrow in Detroit, and I guess I’m nervous.” This was actually true.

“Tomorrow, huh? I could drive you, if you’d like?” I was surprised again. He was being so…nice.

“That’s really… sweet… of you to offer, but no thank you. I can manage it. I’ll be okay. I think I just have to sign some papers. That’s all.”

Awkward tension hung between us, and Jess looked down at the dead bush again. I knew he would not pursue the issue if I said no. “Well, if you’re sure.”

I wasn’t sure, but the idea of being alone with Jess in a car for four hours was more nerve-wracking than the prospect of the attorney’s office.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be back in the evening, will you?” He broke the silence.

“I don’t know, why?” I had thought of spending the night in Detroit and going to the suburban malls to do some big town shopping. I was beginning to yearn for a bookstore and a Corner Bakery, badly.

“Well, my brother’s having a party. You know Harbor Days are coming up and he always has a big kick-off a few days before. We close next Friday and Saturday to partake in all the festivities. It’s a small town thing, but it’s tradition.”

I had forgotten all about Harbor Days. The first weekend of August the city of Elk Rapids celebrates the harbor and the summer. Carnival rides and games came into town as well as thousands of visitors from neighboring cities and summer-folk rentals. I hadn’t attended Harbor Days since I was a kid, but if I remembered it correctly there was a parade and fireworks as well.

“What time does the party start?” I asked.

“Around six. Tom feeds everyone as well.”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“No, I mean I don’t know if I’ll be back.”

“Oh,” Jess paused. “Well, you know what that means?”

I thought about it for a moment and laughed.

“You’ll show up drunk by the back porch again because I missed a party?”

“Oh, I wasn’t drunk,” Jess emphasized. “I knew what I was doing.”

I blushed. That almost kiss was still burned in my memory. Except in my memory, I tasted those lips and I now knew what I had missed that first time. I wanted more. I didn’t think I had it in me, but I blushed deeper just thinking about Jess’ mouth. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, I guess I’ll drag this up to the street for the trash. What are you going to do about that opening?” He pointed to the empty space.

“You know, I was really thinking of pulling all the bushes out to open it up a little bit. Maybe put up one of those low decorative wrought-iron fences.” I was moving my hands, gesturing widely, imagining the look. Trying to refocus my thoughts made me keep rambling. “Still a sign of division, but open and airy. Not keeping anyone out from the view or preventing anyone from coming over.”

“Uh huh? Good luck with that,” Jess said as he struggled down the gravel driveway, dragging the bush behind him like a soggy blanket. I stood staring at the other bushes. The way I felt right now, thinking again about Jess’ mouth, I had enough strength to tear each bush out, one twig at a time.
He loves me? He loves me not
? came into my head again.

“Listen, I’ll help. I can pull the bushes tomorrow while you’re gone and put the decorative fence in the next morning.”

“I’ll pay you, Jess. I need to fix the place up for a rental. This will be part of Nana’s improvement plan.”

Jess looked in the direction of the house. “Still going ahead with that plan, huh?”

“For the moment.”

Our times are growing more casual in attire. There was a time that a lady would not dream of going downtown without an appropriate length skirt, a modest cut blouse, and her walking heels. Today’s fashions should still dictate the same standard.

“Matters of Manners,” 1967

WHEN I ARRIVED at the offices of Goldstein, Carpenter, and Lauer, it did not register that the George Carpenter on the door was the very same George Carpenter of Elk Rapids. For some reason, Sue never mentioned it to me, and although I was there to see Ira Goldstein, George came out to greet me.

“Emily. So wonderful to see you.” George shook my extended hand, but leaned in to kiss my cheek as well. Guiding me down the hall, we entered a conference room where he explained that Ira would meet us in a few minutes. Excited I had made the trip to Detroit, George was hopeful he could show me around town and offered to take me to dinner.

“Unfortunately, George, I need to be home by this evening.”

“Oh. Are you returning to Chicago?”

“No, not yet. I meant Elk Rapids.”

“I see.” George paused for a moment. “I understand you plan to rent your grandmother’s house, according to my parents. I hope you don’t mind that they shared that information with me. I’m sure I know a few people who would be interested in renting up there and pay a nice price for a house the size of Elizabeth’s.”

I hadn’t considered that renting the home would mean strangers would be in Nana’s house. It made sense, but never occurred to me. These people would be sitting on Nana’s flowered couches and putting their feet on Nana’s antique table. These people would sleep in my bedroom and have their dirty laundry all over the place. These people would not appreciate the squeak of the screen door, the lack of air-conditioning, or the hard work of a beautiful garden. The distress must have shown as I began to panic.

“Are you okay? Can I offer you something to drink? You look a little pale.” George looked concerned and reached for my hands, which were placed flat on the cool wooden table. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable alone with George.

“After all this is over today, how about if I take you out on the town? Detroit has some great little secret nightclubs or we could have dinner in the Renaissance Center overlooking the river? It looks prettier in the dark,” he laughed. He seemed to blatantly ignore my earlier refusal at dinner in his attempt to again ask me out for the evening.

“Um, thank you, George. When will Ira be here?”

With that question, Ira Goldstein walked through the door in a rush.

“Hello, hello. Emily Post of Elk Rapids, I presume.”

His pudgy, clammy hands shook mine vigorously. He was an older gentleman, roughly the same age as George’s parents. A kind smile brightened his red face against his graying hair and I noticed his tie was a bit too short for his bulging girth.

“You know, old George, here. He was the top student in my law class and I had to steal him away from Elk Rapids, tempting as the small town may be, to join me here in Detroit when I was offered a full position. Promised him great things as my intern at another firm. Now we have our own place.”

Ira spoke like a proud father.

“Now, I knew your grandfather through connections in Lansing. Good man, he was. And I am so sorry about the passing of your grandmother.”

“Yes, it was a terrible loss to the community,” George commented, sounding like a mayor or a congressman. Not convinced he meant the statement he’d just made, I scowled at him.

“George is going to sit in as a witness to the reading of the will. As you know, your grandfather had a trust and I will just go over the preliminaries of that with you. Essentially you and your sister each receive one half of your grandparent’s estate, including one half equal share of the home in Elk Rapids. Since your sister is the only person married of the two of you, she still inherits one half directly, not divisible with her spouse. Your grandmother did set aside a set monetary amount for each of Rose’s descendants. That Elizabeth was a wonderful lady still saving for her old age at 80.” Ira paused to pull papers from a file and began the actual reading of the will.

When explanations were given and questions answered, I signed where I needed to and signed on behalf of my sister through a faxed affidavit giving me Power of Attorney over Rosie’s signature. It seemed very simple and straightforward until the conversation shifted to Nana’s home again.

“If you and your sister choose to sell, you each earn one half of the sale. If you rent the place, I would suggest an agreement settling any family disputes before they happen. Families get crazy when they inherit property and each member has different ideals. If one or the other of you wishes to be sole owner, you must therefore buy out the other person at half the current market price.”

My head was swimming now with information.

“Oh, Emily won’t be staying,” George interjected.
Why was he speaking for me?
I thought. “She’s a city girl and she’s going back to Chicago soon.” He winked at me.

“Oh, that’s right,” Ira smiled approvingly. “I love Chicago. Go White Sox.”

Unfortunately, I’m a Cubs fan
. I just wanted this whole ordeal over.

“Well, gentlemen, if there is nothing else, I think I need to get going.”

“I’ll walk you out, Emily,” George said eagerly.

Mr. Goldstein shook my hand again and I thanked him for his service to my grandparents. As I left the room, George put his hand on the small of my back, a possessive move in my opinion, and I flinched as he led me into the main hall.

“Well, where should we go? Dinner, dancing, some place quiet? You name it. I can pick you up at 6:00.”

“I’m not staying in town, George.” My voice was huffy at his persistence in ignoring my repeated decline to staying in Detroit any longer than necessary.

“Oh, you didn’t get a hotel room nearby? You can stay at my place. I have a guest room.”

Why was he pushing me to stay so much?
It was obvious he was ignoring my polite refusals of dinner in hopes to wear me down. I was getting angry, but tried to keep myself in check as he was Sue’s son and she was turning into a good friend. All I wanted was to get on the road headed Up North.

“No thank you, George. That’s very kind of you.” I tried one final time to be polite.

“Maybe some other time. Soon though,” he finally conceded and smiled in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

“Sure. Maybe,” I lied.

I DIDN’T MAKE it to Tom Carter’s until after 8:00. As much as I was in a hurry to exit the law office, and George’s attention, I still couldn’t deny myself a large bookstore, though I passed on the Corner Bakery. In the bookstore, I wandered the children’s department, picking up various titles then placing them back on the tables. In a corner, I noticed a shelf of children’s project books and craft ideas. Browsing through the items, I found the perfect choice for Katie. It was a write-your-own-story book. The book included lines at the bottom of each page for the words of the story and space above for a picture to be drawn. I was not artistic, but I would leave the drawing to Katie. Plus, I thought it might be fun for Katie to create her own story. I also hoped a story might give more clues to Katie’s secret.

Originally, I was going straight to Tom’s, but I decided I wanted to change out of my gray pencil skirt and white blouse. I also thought a shower might be in order after so much time in the car. Nana would have been proud of my attire for the trip to Detroit. I dressed business professional as I would every weekday for work in Chicago. In Elk Rapids, however, I had fallen into a routine of dressing less formally. I hadn’t dressed so casually so often since college and it felt good to be comfortable. I threw on a tank-style dress and grabbed a cardigan sweater. The day was warm, but the nights could be cooler by the lake in the woods where Tom lived. I would have dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, but I felt like I would be in the spotlight with Jess’ family. I eventually laughed at myself to think anyone cared what I wore or who I was. Jess and I were friends. I looked out my bedroom window at the blank space left from the bushes Jess had pulled for me while I was in Detroit. The black dirt was a gaping plot of dirt behind the newly restored flowerbeds of Nana’s garden. It looked like an adhesive strip had been pulled and took everything with it, like a deep waxing. I wasn’t positive how my decorative fence would look and I thought of Jess’ face when I was describing my vision.