Gotcha! (3 page)

By late afternoon, Mace and Lola had entered the state of Virginia. He stopped for the night at a roadside campground whose sign said that dogs were welcome. The cabin was a far cry from the Ritz, but not only was it clean, it even smelled clean.

In the lobby of the main cabin, Mace picked up a road map and took it with him back to his cabin. He spread it out on the floor and told his dog, “Pick a place, Lola.” He never knew if Lola had understood him or not, but she obligingly planted a paw on the map. Mace looked down and laughed. “Okay, Lola, Alabama it is!”

J
ulie Wyatt looked down at her dogs and wagged her finger. “Listen up, you guys. I am just going to the market and bank, and I’ll be back in an hour. You chew even one string, and you both get punished. Bark once if you understand me, twice if you plan on defying me.”

The two Chesapeake Bay retrievers looked up at their mistress and barked. Once. Julie laughed. “Yeah, right! Listen to me, Cooper. I know you have separation anxiety when I leave, but I
am
coming back.” Then she looked over at Gracie, who was swishing her tail importantly. “Bite his ear if he starts chewing, Gracie.”

Normally, Julie took the dogs with her when she ran her errands, but the A/C in her truck was on the sluggish side, and the big dogs had trouble with the high humidity. So she was leaving them behind.

Outside, on her flower-bedecked veranda, Julie looked at the golden day, then at her yard. Yep, with all the rain they’d had lately, her four-acre yard was beginning to look just like Jurassic Park. She groaned when she thought about how much extra she was going to have to pay the gardener just to trim everything up before it got out of control.

As she looked around at the different flowerpots and the comfortable furniture on the veranda, she found herself smiling. Once the sun went down, she loved sitting out with a frosty glass of iced tea and watching the paddle fans overhead whir softly, causing the luscious ferns hanging from the beams to stir in the light breeze. The dogs loved it, too, especially when she gave them bacon-flavored chew bones to chew on. Sometimes she even dozed off with the dogs.

Her domain in Rosemont, Alabama. She’d inherited it from an uncle she had barely known, but since she was his very last living relative, it had come to her. Living in the wilds of New England, the land of ice and snow and frigid temperatures, she hadn’t thought twice about moving to the South when she heard that the property had been willed to her. Her children lived within walking distance. But inheriting the old plantation property wasn’t the freebie she had thought it would be. She’d had to sink tons of money into the old house and the grounds, then she’d had to refurbish the guesthouse in the back that had originally been slave quarters. Her uncle had had the building rebuilt back in his day, and as far as she knew, he had never rented it out. Nor had she. When she had company, her guests had all the privacy they wanted. But the way her finances were of late, and with all her annual bills coming due, she might have to give some thought to renting it out.

Earlier in the day, it had been beautiful outside, with barely any humidity. But, now, in midafternoon, she could feel the sticky dampness washing over her. Time to get a move on, or she wouldn’t make it back within the hour as she had promised the dogs. She needed to stop at Rosemont Produce to pick up some fresh fruits and vegetables so she could try out some new recipes for her job as a food-show hostess on the Food Network. She was even thinking about writing a cookbook, but she doubted she would ever get around to doing so—despite already having a title for the book,
Julie’s Down-Home Cooking.
Not bad for a transplant from Vermont.

She also had to stop at the bank to deposit her final check from the series, which had wrapped up last week. The check would keep her afloat for another six months until the show started shooting again and she had a regular income stream.

Julie fished around in the pocket of her walking shorts for her car keys. She pulled them out, along with a slip of paper. She looked down at what she was holding in her hand. Her heart kicked up a beat, then another beat. She licked at her lips, knowing she was going to have to deal with the slip of paper, and soon. But not just then. It was the wrong time. Her gut said so. She had a bad moment when she thought maybe, just maybe, she should have talked to the kids about the slip of paper. No, she wasn’t ready for that, either. Because she didn’t want to look at the paper any longer, she jammed it back into her pocket. Maybe she’d lose it along the way. Well, tomorrow was another day, and the day after that still another day. She had plenty of time to make a decision one way or the other.

 

 

There were only a handful of customers at the market, most shoppers preferring to go out before the heat of the day. Julie, however, went whenever the mood struck her. She picked out her vegetables and fruit along with a basil plant in a little pot, which she would keep on the windowsill. She dearly loved basil.

A young boy carried her bags to the car and deposited them. She gave him two dollars, and he thanked her profusely. Next stop, the bank, where she would deposit her check to make sure she stayed solvent for another six months.

Like in most banks in small Southern towns, the people in the Sovereign Bank liked to chat, especially with a TV personality who was living in their midst. People would ask about the family and the dogs, so she stopped to talk to the tellers, the bank officers, and a few of the customers. In her hand, she had two dog bones for Gracie and Cooper that one of the tellers had handed her.

Julie waved good-bye and headed out the door to the parking lot. She was about to climb into her old Chevy Blazer when a man leaned out of his car window and said, “Excuse me! Can you tell me where I might find an apartment complex. I just got here, and I need to find someplace to rent quickly.”

Julie tossed her handbag into the backseat of her truck and walked over to one of the most interesting, flashiest cars she’d ever seen in her life. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Just a small place, and I only need it for a little while. I just don’t want to go to a motel, and most places don’t take dogs.” He held Lola up for Julie to see. That was all Julie needed. The man was a dog lover, she could tell. Her kids were going to kill her when they found out what she was about to do.

“Actually, I do know of a place. I have a cottage I’d be willing to rent to you. It’s about eight hundred square feet, has a loft, circular staircase, no bathtub but a full shower and a full kitchen, and it even has a fireplace. It’s furnished.”

“You do! I’ll take it! Just tell me how to get there.”

He looked nice, Julie thought. And the dog was cute. “Just follow me. That’s some fancy set of wheels you have there, mister. Does it fly or skim over water?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, no. Oliver Goldfeld,” Mace said, holding out his hand.

“Julie Wyatt.” They shook hands. “Don’t you want to know how much the rent is?”

“Yes. How much is it?”

“You know what, Oliver? I don’t know what to charge you. I’ve never rented out the cottage before. Actually, I was thinking about doing just that this very afternoon, and now here you are. Why don’t we wait till you see it, then you can tell me what you think it’s worth. Will that work for you?”

“It will. Are there restaurants around here?”

“All kinds, but it’s all Southern cooking. I guess you can’t cook, huh?”

“No, I can’t cook.”

“I could teach you. I host a cooking show for the Food Network and keep telling myself to write a cookbook, which I never seem to start. If you stay long enough, you could be my new guinea pig and allow me to test on you the recipes that I will probably never include in the book that I will probably never write,” she called over her shoulder. Dear God, did I just say that? For sure, the kids are going to strangle me. She turned the engine on and backed out of her parking space. Mace Carlisle, aka Oliver Goldfeld, followed right behind her.

Seven minutes later, Julie pulled into her driveway, punched in the code to the electrified gate, and sailed through, her possible new tenant right behind her. She could hear Gracie and Cooper barking. They knew a strange vehicle was invading their territory.

Julie drove all the way around to the back of the house, parked her truck, and cut the engine. She waited until the man in the fancy car got out with his dog. “There it is!” she said, waving her arms at the guesthouse. “Everything is good to go. My day lady just cleaned it up and put fresh sheets on the beds, and there are clean towels in the bathroom. There is coffee and powdered creamer for the morning to hold you over until you can go to the store to get what you want. Take the tour. I’ll go in and let my dogs out, then you can tell me what you’ve decided.”

Her hand went into the pocket of her shorts. They closed around the paper she’d anguished over earlier. She withdrew her hand as if she’d touched a hot coal. She opened the back door, and the two retrievers raced out to run across the yard to where Oliver Goldfeld was waiting for her.

Julie watched as Oliver panicked when he saw Cooper and Gracie charging toward him. He scooped up his dog and held her in a vise grip. “She’s nervous. I rescued her from the SPCA. They won’t hurt her, will they? By the way, her name is Lola.”

“Cooper and Gracie? They wouldn’t hurt a fly! All they want to do is play. Put your dog down, and you’ll see.”

Reluctantly, Mace lowered Lola to the ground. The retrievers sniffed her, circled her, then barked. “That means they like her.” Julie laughed. “See, they’re going to show her the best bushes and trees to pee on, the place where they hide their balls and toys and chew bones. They’ll be back in ten minutes. By the way, this entire four acres is fenced in, so she won’t get lost. I have lights that come on at night, too. So, have you decided whether to take it and, if so, what do you think it’s worth rental-wise.”

“Is a thousand dollars a month acceptable? I can pay for the utilities, too, if that will help.”

Julie almost fainted. She hoped she didn’t look too eager when she said, “I can live with that. When the utility bills come in, I’ll show them to you.” Then her conscience attacked her. “No, that’s too much. How about seven-fifty, and you still pay the utilities?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Julie Wyatt. I never rented anything before, but I’ve seen television shows where the owner asks for a deposit and then first and last month’s rent, so that makes it twenty-two-fifty. If you let me get settled in, I can bring the money over to you.”

Julie literally swooned. Now she could get the A/C in her truck fixed and pay off her new Wolf stove. Not to mention updating and stocking her pantry, something people involved with cooking at a professional level had to do at least once a month.

“That’s fine, Oliver. And to welcome you into your new home, I’m going to invite you for dinner. I’ll send the dogs over when it’s ready. They know how to ring the doorbell. Well, at least Gracie does. Cooper just paws at it. And you are welcome to bring Lola. Look! She’s playing with the dogs. I need to warn you, if you let Cooper inside the cottage, he will chew things if you ignore him. He has separation anxiety.”

Mace waved his arms about, suddenly shy. “I don’t know how to thank you, Julie. You literally saved my life today. Lola’s, too. I would be honored to have dinner with you. Does this come under the heading of Southern hospitality?”

“Nah. Sometimes I just like company. I can use the money, too, so I won’t lie to you. Hey, it’s win for you and win for me. By the way, I did notice you don’t have any luggage, and I’m not being nosy here, but I don’t think you want to hang out in that designer suit you’re wearing. Upstairs in the closet are a lot of my son’s clothes. You’re about the same size. He has stuff in the drawers, too, and the bathroom is stocked with new toothbrushes and razors. Feel free to use it all. This is just a guess on my part, but do you know how to work a washing machine?”

Mace gave an embarrassed shake of his head. “Okay, when the dirty clothes pile up, I’ll show you how to use it. It’s behind the sliding door in the kitchen.” Julie whistled for her dogs to follow her. They both ignored her. “Guess you’re stuck with them. Send them home when you’ve had enough of them. Gracie will ring the doorbell. Now, is there anything else you can think of that you might need?”

“I can’t think of anything. I think you covered it all. I’ll bring the money over when I come for dinner, or do you want it now?”

“Later is fine. I think you’ll be comfortable in the cottage, Oliver. The beds are really good ones. It’s very peaceful here at night, with the crickets and the trees whispering in the breeze.” She gave an airy wave as she sprinted across the yard and up the steps that led to the kitchen door.

Inside, Julie sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter and dropped her head into her hands. “God, please don’t let that guy be some kind of mugger or ax murderer.” Satisfied with her pep talk, she got up and started to prepare her dinner for two. Her digital camera was placed within easy reach as she got out her cooking utensils and the food she was going to prepare. Stuffed peppers, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, grilled corn she would shave off the cob when it was done. She would photograph all the steps for easy following for the readers of the book she would probably never write.

Today’s menu highlighted what she called wraparound stuffed peppers, and what that meant was she would cut the bottoms off the peppers, as well as the tops, and set the peppers in a roasting pan. One filling mixture was ground turkey. The second set of peppers would have ground chuck. To both fillings, she would add finely chopped peppers from the cut-off tops along with some finely chopped onion and parsley, a smidgen of garlic, and, of course, salt and pepper. The sauce in both recipes would be a fire-roasted tomato sauce with a good-sized portion of chopped garlic. Cooking time—one hour and fifteen minutes. She spoke into her recorder, which was next to her digital camera, saying she would be using red, yellow, and orange peppers in both recipes, because the green peppers were too bitter in her opinion.

Julie worked silently and efficiently, her hands working in tandem with what she was saying into her recorder, even when she was snapping pictures of her culinary endeavor. Her ears were half tuned to the television on the counter, which she kept on all day and sometimes during the night. If she did say so herself, she excelled at multitasking, and put all thoughts of her new tenant on a mental shelf for the moment.