Dear Mystery Guy (Magnolia Sisters Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter Nine

Della checked her phone after it beeped. 'Happy New Year', the text message said
.
It was from Hazel.

She had been getting text messages throughout the day wishing her a happy new year. Hazel was late. It was almost evening now. She was lying in bed. It was her month to sleep in the room. The bed had a hump in the middle, and it was sticking her in places that she didn't know had bones.

She had spent New Year's Day alone, watching television and thinking about Luca and eating Keisha's leftover oatmeal and raisin cookies.

She was grateful for the opportunity to talk to somebody. She had had enough of her own company.

She replied to Hazel, Happy New Year. How are you Mrs. Baron?

Bored,
was the almost instant reply.

Want us to go to 112 Norbrook Avenue? Della texted on a whim.

What's there?
Hazel texted back.

Luca lives there, Della replied.

Okay, Hazel texted back. Come pick you up in twenty minutes.

Della jumped off the bed. Hazel must be really bored. Usually Brigid would be the one who would be up for this sort of adventure but Brigid had gone to what she termed the assembly of the in-breds, a rare and often conflict-filled family reunion with her mother's side of the family.

Della pulled on a pair of jeans and an old long-sleeved red t-shirt. It had the faded lettering 'Magnolia House' at the front. It had been standard issue back when she was at the Girls' Home. Every quarter they had gotten brand new t-shirts in different colors, all of them with the Magnolia House name and a magnolia flower near the end of the name.

She almost felt nostalgic for the home now. Every New Year they would assemble in the meeting hall, each bungalow represented by a color. Some do-gooder would give them a speech about the coming year and then they would have a treat.

She remembered vividly when she was sixteen and suffering from a lack of self-esteem. She had been at the height of hating her scar and wishing that she had a voice. The motivational speaker for that year had been Viviene Rattray, a successful business woman and alum of Magnolia House.

You could sense the strength and the formidability of the woman. She had started her speech by saying, "God sent me here today to tell one specific little girl that you are special to him.”

She had looked out on the crowd of over fifty girls, and Della felt as if her eyes had connected with hers when she gave her speech. After she had finished speaking she quoted the poem
No More Smalling Up Of Me
by Jean Wilson.

Della could remember it now. She let herself out of the apartment, silently quoting it.

There's no obstacle so bold

As to dare stand in my way.

I am taking back my life,

And I am doing it today....

She had gone to the library at the home and looked up the poem, memorizing it in its entirety and from then on it had become her New Year's mantra.

Those were good times. She sat on the stone bench under a poui tree at the front of the building. It was a cloudless day, and cool. She wrapped her hands around herself and looked around her. Most of the parking spaces were empty. The occupants of the apartment were mostly single working class people. Maybe most of them had gone to spend time with their family in the country or maybe they had gone out because the place was eerily quiet.

Hazel drove up in a new black town car ten minutes later. Della's eyes widened.

"What happened to the old car?" she signed.

Hazel laughed. "At home. That was the helper's car. Because I am now the wife of a wealthy man, I can drive this and any other car I desire."

Della nodded. "Okay then."

"You want my old car so you won't have to take the bus anymore?" Hazel asked, "I could loan it to you."

"Are you serious?" Della signed excitedly.

"Yes." Hazel shrugged. "I have always wished that you could have your own transportation to navigate around the place. Not that I think you can't do it on your own. I worry about you, you know. I know you love your independence and you are quite fine living alone but you are mute. It's like living in a country where most people don't speak your language. Suppose something happens on the bus and nobody understands sign language?"

"You worry?" Della frowned. "Really?"

"Yes." Hazel nodded. "We all do. When you left Magnolia House to live on your own, we were all terrified. I know you are the oldest and all, but you are the most vulnerable. You do realize that Patricia arranged for Keisha to be your roommate?"

"I didn't know that." Della laughed. "I thought I got the place on my own and was fortunate to have a roommate who knew sign language."

"As if we would be comfortable with you alone. I love you, girl," Hazel said, her eyes tearing up.

Della reached over and hugged her.

"You look sad," Della signed. "What's wrong?"

"I am always sad at this time of the year." Hazel exhaled. "Remember, I returned to the home humbled, pregnant and clueless as to what happened to me. It was around this time. Well, the second day of January."

"Yeah," Della nodded, "I wish you could remember what happened and who Sebastian's father is."

Hazel shrugged. "I wish that you could remember too. Let's make that our New Year’s resolution."

"If only it were so easy." Della smiled, "I don't make resolutions anymore."

"Me either." Hazel said forlornly. She started the car. "So where are we going now?"

"Norbrook," Della signed. "I just want to see where he lives."

Hazel smiled. "Della is in love, na-na- na- na."

*****

112 Norbrook Drive was in an exclusive part of an already exclusive neighborhood. Della soon found out after Hazel slowly drove through the palm-lined neighborhood with the spacious yards and the large land spaces.

"This is old money." Hazel whistled. "I have been here with Baron before. The Spanish ambassador lives over there." She pointed to a tall wrought iron gate that had a security post at the front.

She cruised through the neighborhood some more and slowed down near the front of a mansion that had a pristine lawn.

"Wow!" Hazel whispered. "Della, are you sure you saw 112 Norbrook Drive?"

Della nodded, craning her neck past Hazel to see the house.

"That's his vehicle in the porte-cochere." She pointed to a vehicle that was parked near the massive front door. She recognized the license plate number. She slid farther in her seat when she saw that he was at the door.

"Is that him?" Hazel asked. Then she too slumped in her seat when Luca looked in their direction.

Della was nodding vigorously.

"Nice, really nice," Hazel whispered. "He is dressed semi-formally and he has a lady with him who is dressed to the nines. They must be going out to someplace--really posh."

Della peeped up from her seat. "That's her," she signed. "The girlfriend."

"She looks okay," Hazel said noncommittally. "You made it sound as if she was impressive or something."

"She is impressive," Della signed.

"Well...I guess." Hazel shrugged. "I still say you have a chance. They are going out. Maybe to a party?"

"Follow them!" Della mouthed and pointed to the car.

Hazel visibly blanched. "No."

"Yes," Della signed. "Come on. You wanted an adventure; this is it."

"When did I tell you that I wanted an adventure?" Hazel hissed. "I just said I would take you to 112 Norbrook Drive. I didn't know that this was going to be a stakeout or a car chase."

Luca's vehicle pulled out of the driveway and the gates opened automatically.

"Don't let him get away," Della signed but she was so excited she was practically twitching in her seat. It was her chance to finally learn more about Luca.

"Okay, okay." Hazel started the car and turned in the cul-de-sac. She followed Luca’s vehicle at a measured pace, trying not to drive too close to him but always keeping him in her sight. The traffic was very light, which made it easier.

"I wonder if she lives with him," Hazel asked, "or if they are just dating?"

Della shrugged. She hoped they were neither living together nor dating, but this was definitely proof that Luca and the lady were into something and as usual, the familiar jealousy was not far away.

They followed the SUV through the neighborhood as he turned onto the main road and toward Manor Park.

Hazel grunted. "I did not sign up for this; man chasing is not in my nature."

Della laughed, clapping her hand on her leg. Though Hazel was trying to sound grumpy it was obvious that she was enjoying the interlude to an otherwise boring holiday.

"He's turning toward Stony Hill," Hazel said, excitement lacing her voice. "Della, you owe me big time. I think he is going to Rizzle."

"Rizzle?" Della mouthed.

"Yup. He is going to Rizzle." Hazel murmured. "It is a very exclusive restaurant owned by the Deckers and they are having a charity function today where the philanthropists and the people who can afford it pledge money to the Deckers' charity, Hands for Help--they have a fabulous view that overlooks the city."

"How'd you know about it?" Della asked when Hazel glanced at her.

"Because of  Baron. They invite him to functions that involve him donating funds. He had to pass on this one because he is not feeling well. And I basically know everything about the Deckers. They stole my son, remember. I know that they own Rizzle."

Hazel stopped the car. "You know what? We should go to Rizzle today. I have two invitations. Mr. and Mrs. Baron. It was even done in gold lettering."

It was Della's turn to protest.

"I am not dressed."

Hazel laughed. "That's why we are going back home to change. My clothes will be a tad short on you but they will have to do."

"My boobs are bigger too." Della pointed to her breasts.

"So we improvise." Hazel started the car and headed back down the hill. "You can spy on Luca and I can spy on the Deckers. It's perfect."

*****

They reached Rizzle almost an hour later. Della had had difficulty putting together an outfit from Hazel's closet. Hazel was petite at 5' 3" and she was 5' 10". Every dress had been too short and fitted her oddly.

She had finally found a lemon yellow A-line dress which was made of the softest suede material. It fit her a little bit too perfectly. The bust was snug. Hazel had thrown a scarf around Della's neck, which served the dual purpose of covering her scar and a good portion of her bust.

She had no problems fitting into a pair of Hazel's strappy sandals. They had always basically worn the same shoe size.

"Did I tell you that you look awesome?" Hazel asked when they were in the parking lot. "You kinda look like Padma Lakshmi."

Della grinned. "The host of Top Chef? Your favorite show? You are too kind."

"No, seriously," Hazel said contemplatively. "You ever think you might be related to her?"

"Nooo." Della shook her head. Then she thought about it and smiled at Hazel. As usual, Hazel was being whimsical and fanciful.

When they were younger they would watch television and fantasize about who they resembled or who could be an unknown family member. When a child was abandoned by their family or had serious memory holes like she and Hazel, it was a given that they always looked for similarities to everybody, even the people on television, and the game of searching was something that Hazel was particularly good at.

"It's true; you kind of have that look.  Maybe you are not from here. Maybe you have some Indian in your genes."