Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (19 page)

Melanie smiled hesitantly. “Well, Oscar is kind of big, sort of like Garfield, but Helen and I had talked about not having the cat around during the open house, and she told me she asked the boys to put him outside before they left. Helen said he likes to burrow under clothes.”

“If that’s all it was, I’m sure Helen wasn’t upset with you.”

“That isn’t all. I keep remembering what Dave, her ex-husband, said that day you and I were over there. When he pushed Helen and she slipped and we both ended up falling down the stairs?”

Olivia nodded. “Are you having trouble with your ankle?”

She shook her head. “No. But I talked to that cop, Sam Hudson, the one whose card you left on my desk.” Her face bloomed with color. “He’s checked in with me a couple of times since then.”

“He’s treating this as a criminal investigation?”

“I guess. He said they’re still looking for Dave. Helen said he hasn’t even visited the boys in more than two months.”

“That must be hard on them.”

“Helen said in some ways it’s been easier, but they do miss their dad. I left my cookies for them.” She started to get up and then sat back down again. “One more thing and why I still feel kind of funny about all this.”

“Tell me.”

“When I got back to the office, my office phone light was blinking, so I hit the voice mail code. The first message was from my daughter. The other message … I want you to hear it.”

Olivia followed Melanie into her office and she hit the replay button.

“Stay away from that house.” The phone clicked off.

Olivia glanced up at her, one eyebrow cocked. “Do you recognize the voice?”

“At first, I wasn’t sure. It came through when I was still at Helen’s. The only person I could think of who might leave such a message was Dave.”

“Let’s call Helen. I’d like to speak with her.”

Melanie nodded and placed the call. “Helen? I’m glad I caught you. Just a minute. I want to put you on speaker. My broker is here and she wants to hear what you have to say.”

Olivia spoke up. “Hello, Helen. I understand Melanie had some difficulty during the open house.”

“Yes, but I’m not holding her responsible.”

“She appreciates that. I just have a question or two,” Olivia continued. “You said your husband quit-claimed the house to you. Is he still living in town?”

“Not that I know of. He said he was moving east of the mountains—to take another job.”

“Helen,
it’s Melanie. Do you know for sure where he is now?”

“No.”

“Would your attorney know where he might be?” Melanie asked.

“Olivia again, Helen. He did agree that you would be selling the house, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Melanie got a phone call—the person seemed unhappy. I just wanted to make sure that selling the house isn’t posing a problem for you—especially with what happened with the dresser and everything.”

“I
have
to sell it. It’s in the divorce decree. Dave knows that. You don’t think it was him who called, do you, Mel?”

“I’m not sure. Did you find the cat?”

“Oscar is here. He wandered down the back stairs after the boys came home.”

“Back stairs?” Olivia asked.

“There’s a staircase from the bonus room. The boys sometimes leave the door open when they come down to eat if they’ve been playing video games.”

Melanie smiled. “Then maybe you were right—the cat just got trapped in the drawer and dislodged it trying to get out. Thanks, Helen. I’ll talk with you later.”

Melanie and Olivia listened to the message again. Both jerked when the phone rang again. Melanie paused before answering, leaving the phone on speaker. “Brown Family Realty. This is—”

The same gruff voice said, “Stay the fuck away from my house! I mean it!”

Olivia looked over at Melanie when he hung up. “Call Officer Hudson. Tell him you need him to check on this guy. I don’t want you in danger and this call concerns me.” Olivia pursed her lips. “Don’t erase your messages until after the cop hears both of them. Maybe they have voice recognition software.”

Melanie nodded.

“And, I don’t want you doing an open house at Helen’s unless you have someone with you. Ask Bruce—or one of the other men. And give this to the officer.” She handed Melanie a piece of paper. “The phone number that call came from.”

“Okay.”

“Then, call Helen’s attorney and tell her what’s going on. She may want to touch base with Dave’s attorney.”

“Thanks, Olivia. I was sure you would know what to do.” Melanie sat there, her hands clutching a wadded tissue. “Does this happen a lot—angry sellers making threats?”

“Not often, and I want you to be safe. No more open houses at Helen’s by yourself. Got it?”

Melanie nodded again.

“Good.  I think it’s time to go home to your kids.”

Later that week, Olivia eased her car into the driveway of the condo. “Here it is, Granddad. Let’s look again and then we’ll go to the office and write it up, if you’re sure this is the one.” She unlocked the unit, dropped her card on the counter in the kitchen, and followed her grandfather as he roamed around the unit.

“What do you think of this kitchen,
Livvy? Wasn’t George smart to design it like he did? Those two really know how to make a place easy to use, don’t you think?”

“It’s nice.” She turned on the lights in the hall bath and wandered into the master bedroom.

“And look at this big shower.” Granddad’s voice had a hollow quality. “Perfect for me. Even has an extra grab bar. I don’t remember seeing it when we were here before.”

“That’s why we always want to see a place a second time—to make sure you like it, or don’t.” She flipped the light in the walk-in closet. “Organizers here, too. I didn’t remember that,” she murmured to herself.

“Do you think I could put my desk in here and still have room for the couch with the foldaway bed? In case you want to stay over?” Her grandfather peered at her from over his glasses as he strolled out of the closet in the guest bedroom.

“I think so. I thought you were going to play around with those cut-outs on graph paper.”

“I forgot about that. Been spending all my time trying to decide which roses to take with me, and what furniture to sell.”

“Granddad, you can’t dig up your roses. We didn’t mark them or mention that in the listing. The buyers get what they’ve already seen at your place.”

“But my furniture isn’t staying and we didn’t mention that in the listing.”

She chuckled. “I know, but no one expects the furniture to stay unless we say it’s staying, like we did with the appliances. The roses in the backyard and along the side and all the other plantings … they have to stay—unless the buyer says you can take them. Please don’t count on them saying yes.”

“I’ll bet Beau would. I’m going to ask him.”

“But what if his permits don’t come through? Only ten more days. If they’re not here, since that’s a contingency in his offer, his deal dies and the other people—if they’re still in the picture—move into first position.” She nibbled her bottom lip at the thought.

Not a word from Beau in the last two weeks since she’d alerted him to the back-up offer. She forced herself not to call him and found herself waffling between wanting his transaction to fail and hoping it would go through. Her grandfather seemed happy considering both offers, though he kept reminding her how nice Beau was and how well he would treat the property. She sighed and perched for a moment on one of the bar stools used to stage the kitchen eating area.

“Do you know what furniture you want to sell? We probably need to get on that. I’ll help you if you’d like.”

Her grandfather opened the French doors and wandered out into the small backyard, sheltered on the north side by mature maples and oaks, and open to the sun toward the south and west.

“I think I’ll put a birdbath right about here,” he declared. “And a bird feeder for that branch. It’s high enough to discourage the squirrels and I can still reach it without having to use a ladder.” He walked slowly along the back side of the house, appearing to measure with his eyes where shrubs might be planted.  “I think a hydrangea would look nice in that corner over there. It gets sun in the morning, but is shaded from the heat of the day by that tree. What do you think,
Livvy?”

She went outside to stand next to him. “What? Oh. Yes. That would be nice. Do you want me to take more pictures of the rooms?”

“Not necessary. I know what I want. Let’s write the offer.” Without waiting for her to lock up the house, he opened the small side gate and walked back to her car.

After Olivia returned to the office, she put together the paperwork, and picked up the phone. “Are you still handling the Commodore Park condos, Gordon? If so, I’ve got an offer for you.”

“Yep. Pitt has been so busy with the new development the builder’s doing that he’s turned these over to me.”

Thank goodness for that.
“Good for you. Does the builder like to hear offers personally, or should I fax or email it over to you?”

“Send it to me tonight if you can. He’s in Olympia doing some sort of lobbying with the Builders’ Association. That way, I can email him. He usually responds quickly.”

“Please point out that the buyer is putting fifty percent down and taking out a loan for the rest. You know Jackie at the Crosstown Bank?”

“A real gem. Is she the lender?”

“Yes.”

“Super. I’ll mention that, too. You have a pre-approval letter?”

“And a copy of the earnest money check.  See if you can get an answer by tomorrow afternoon. The buyer needs an incentive to start thinning the amount of furniture he’ll take with him.”

Gordon laughed. “I hear you. Thanks for the offer, Olivia. I’ll get back to you.”

The next day, she stopped at her grandfather’s house on the way home. “Your offer was accepted. You can move in the day after it closes. I’ll call Jackie tomorrow to alert her to order an appraisal.”

“That was fast.”

“Yours was a good offer, nice and clean, which the builder liked. But, now we really do have to concentrate on getting rid of your extra furniture.”

“I was going to get on that this weekend. Can you help me?”

“Yes, on Saturday, but not on Sunday afternoon. I need to go over the books this weekend. End-of-the-month stuff.”

“I remember when your dad used to do that. I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

“That you will. Give me a hug, Granddad. I think you made a great choice.” She made a mental note to ask him about his favorite roses. Maybe she could find the same varieties for the new home.

Still no word from Beau about the permits
.
I have to call him, but how can I keep my cool when I hear his voice? Maybe I’ll ask to speak to George. Or, if Fiona knows, all I have to do is talk to her.
Except she wanted to hear his voice, to feel her body shiver and then heat up when he spoke. She placed her hands on either side of her face to cool the warmth in her cheeks.
Get a grip, girl. You
cannot
let him distract you. This is business.
Yeah, right. Business …

Chapter 11

“Ms. Brown?”

“Yes.”

“This is George Dunston.”

Olivia leaned back in her chair. “How are you, George?”

“Just fine. It’s been a while since we talked.” He paused. “I just wanted to let you know that we are checking with the permit office almost daily.”

“I had no doubt.” She leaned forward. What was it about his voice? “Is something wrong? Is there a problem?” And why hadn’t Beau called?

“Not at all. But we didn’t want you to think we’d forgotten about our role in this offer. By the way, Beau’s out of town, out of the country, actually. Which is why I’m calling for him.”

“Oh.”
No wonder I haven’t heard.
But he could have texted me. Or does he know I despise texting? She drummed her newly manicured nails on her desk.

George answered her unspoken question. “Ireland and then Germany. Beautiful country, Ireland.”

“I’m sure it is. Does your firm have business there?”

“No. Beau’s sister lives there, and her husband. And, his brother is on R&R in Germany. Beau flew over to see them. He met Katie and Ted and the three of them went to see Paul in Germany.”

Olivia twirled a pen.
He’s with his family.
What would it have been like to have had a sister or a brother? Thank goodness she had Sally, her like-a-sister best friend. “Will he be gone long?”

“I expect him back in a week or so. And if the permits come through before then, I’ll let you know right away. So you can tell your grandfather we’re able to move forward.”

“I’d appreciate that, George. Thank you.” Did she dare ask? Her curiosity was like a burr under a saddle. She ran her fingers through her hair and decided to take a chance. “May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“How long have you been working with Mr. James?” What was it Beau had said?

“Seven years. Why do you ask?”

“Then you must know him pretty well.”

George chuckled. “I think so. We’ve been business partners for more than five years now.”

She rubbed her tongue against her lower lip.
What if he thinks I’m prying?
Maybe she was, but she had to know. “Well, uh, does Beau date much?”

Silence followed before George replied.  “I’m guessing you read about that nastiness about a year or so ago.”

“I think I heard something about that.” She scooted her chair in front of her computer and Googled Sally’s article.
Why didn’t I pay more attention when Sally talked about him? Why didn’t I check before I asked?
Oh. My. God. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous. Blond hair, not an ounce of fat on her. And she was after his money? But not him? Correction. She must have been after both if they were going to get married.

George coughed. “I think the easiest way to put it is Beau has never lacked for female companionship, but he’s been rather cautious lately—since the almost nuptials.”

“I see.” Her heart thumped against her ribs.

George’s voice seemed to fade, as if he’d turned away from the phone. “Since then, the only woman he’s shown any …” A motorcycle roared past the office, drowning out all sound.

What?
“I’m sorry, George. What did you say?”

She looked at her phone when silence ensued. No bars. She’d lost the call.
But Beau had been paying attention to her.
Maybe that’s what George was about to say, and Beau hadn’t seemed cautious with her. Just the opposite. At times he’d almost seemed pushy, like he had something to prove. Or was it just typical male confidence?

Then again, she hadn’t come on to him. Far from it. She couldn’t help smiling as she recalled how he’d found her, sprawled on the kitchen floor with her skirt practically up to her lap.
I need to talk to Sally again. Tonight.

Later that day, Melanie called. “Olivia? I’m so glad I caught you. No one else seems to be at the office. I’m at Helen’s place. Another open house. Frank was supposed to meet me here, but he hasn’t shown up yet, and I just got a call from my babysitter. Jeffie fell down and split his lip. Noni took him to the ER and she asked me to meet her at the hospital. But I promised Helen I’d do this open house and all the ads mentioned it and now—”

Olivia interrupted. “
Jeffie’s your two-year-old, right? He’s more important than the open house.” Olivia reached for her suit jacket. “I’ll be right there.”

Olivia waved to Melanie as her newest agent left the Reynolds’ home. Macaroons were tastefully displayed on the kitchen counter, along with a sign-in sheet. Hmm. Four groups through already, and it was only an hour into the three-hour open house. She wandered through each room, checking that all the window coverings were open. She flicked on a switch in the
laundry room, adding to the light slanting in from the window, and was headed up the main stairs when the doorbell rang.

“Come on in, folks,” she welcomed. “Feel free to look around. I’ll be right back.” She ascended the stairs for a quick review of the bedrooms and went back down to invite the visitors into the kitchen. They were just leaving when she heard a noise from the garage.

That cat again?
Melanie needs to talk to Helen about crating that animal for showings.
Olivia opened the door into the garage. Odd. Nothing. Then a sound of breaking glass seemed to come from one of the upper rooms. An errant softball from a neighbor’s yard?
She pulled her phone from her pocket and climbed the stairs, her heart starting to pump.

“Here, kitty
kitty.” But something told her the cat wasn’t the reason for the disturbance.  She climbed the stairs slowly, her stomach tightening as she approached the master bedroom. A large hole in the window confirmed her suspicions. But there was no glass on the carpet and no rock or ball, either.  She slowly approached the window to look more closely at the damage when she sensed someone behind her. Before she could turn, she was shoved into the nearby walk-in closet. The door slammed shut behind her. She clambered to her feet and fumbled for the door before finding the light switch on the near wall. The door wouldn’t budge. She pounded on the door. “Hey! Open this door!”

“I told you to stay out of this house!” An angry male voice. The same harsh tone she’d heard on the phone in Melanie’s office. Olivia waited a couple of minutes, straining to hear if the man was still there as she fumbled for her phone. She had just finished dialing 9-1-1 and asking in the quietest voice possible for a police officer to come to the house, when her phone buzzed.

“Hello?” she whispered.

“Why are you whispering, Olivia?” Beau asked, his voice coming through too loudly for her comfort.

He was back from Ireland?
“Ssh. Don’t talk so loud,” she whispered again.

“Where are you? You sound muffled.”

“I’m in the back of Helen’s closet. Someone shut the door on me and I’m afraid they’re still out there—never mind, I hear sirens.” She hung up and pushed against the door. It remained blocked. Then she heard footsteps.

“Hello? This is Office Kincaid. Where are you?”

Thank goodness.
“Here,” she yelled. “Master bedroom. Walk-in closet.”

Moments later, she heard furniture being moved and the door swung open, revealing a large police officer. He was shining a flashlight into her eyes.

“No need for the light. I’m not armed.” She raised her hands, still clutching her cell phone. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“What happened here, ma’am?” the officer asked.

“Uh. I’m not sure. I heard breaking glass, so I came upstairs and found the broken window. Then someone grabbed me from behind and pushed me into the closet. When I couldn’t get out, I called you.”

Her legs felt shaky. She reached for the bed and sat down. “Is it all right if I make another call?”

He nodded and was joined by his partner, who was examining the broken window glass.

“Genevieve. Are any of the men around? Good. Will you transfer me to him?” She waited for a minute. “
Mickie. I need you to come over to twenty-five ten Birch Street. Someone needs to sit this open house and I can’t stay. No. I’ll explain when you get here. Please come right now.”

The police officer escorted her downstairs, where she took a seat on the couch in the living room, happy that no other visitors had entered. She wondered why when the first couple of hours had been so busy until it occurred to her the presence of the black-and-white in the front of the house probably was deterring potential visitors.

When Mickie entered, she gave him a relieved smile. “Good. If you’ll come sit here, I’ll fill you in. I’m not sure I won’t fall down if I try to stand up.”

Over the next few minutes, she told the agent what had happened in between answering the questions of the police officer, who then asked her to accompany him into the backyard.

“Do you see anything out of the ordinary, ma’am?”

She had been in the yard only once, told him so, and asked if he could check with the homeowner when she returned. He gave her his card, took one of hers, and said he would call her back after talking with the homeowner.

“Mickie, could you please stay until Mrs. Reynolds returns? Then call this officer—” she handed the agent a card—“so he can talk with her. I don’t want her to be alone. Please stay until he returns. If Melanie comes back, have her call me. I’m going back to the office.”

“Sure thing, Olivia. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Oh. And if anyone asks about the broken window upstairs, tell them it was an accident and that it’s being fixed tomorrow.”

“Consider it done.” He patted her hand.

She turned back in Mickie’s direction when she was at the front door. “Maybe you should take down the open house signs.”

“Don’t worry about a thing,” he assured her. “You go on. I’ll handle things.”

Still shaken, Olivia returned to the realty office and entered Melanie’s office, looking for the file. When she found it, she called Helen’s lawyer and left her a message, reiterating briefly the most recent incident.

“Could you please touch base with the ex-husband’s attorney or give me the name so I can do so? The police were called and I’m not sure Helen’s safe in the house if her ex is doing this. Maybe she should change the locks. I will not allow her agent to do any more open houses. This is the second time someone’s caused damage during showings. And this time there was a physical assault, too.”

She went back to her office and tried to calm her nerves. She had just finished her second cup of tea when a knock sounded. Beau marched in, shut the door and motioned for her to stand.

Desire to be held by him ricocheted through her body. She stood, unable to take her eyes off him. He was looking so commanding in a grey blazer with a navy shirt, unbuttoned at the throat.

He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re shaking,” he murmured in one ear.

She nodded, her legs again feeling like rubber, this time from something other than fear.  “I thought you were out of the country.” She caught her breath, not wanting to weep with relief, but feeling ever so close to doing so.

“Got back eighteen hours ago. Maybe you should sit, so you don’t fall down.” He helped her back into her chair, and perched on the edge of her desk. “Tell me why you were whispering from inside a closet.” His green eyes bored into her, as if searching out the pounding of her pulse, the flip-flopping of her stomach.

“I was at an open house. Someone broke a window. When I went to investigate, he shoved me in the closet and I couldn’t get out.” She gulped. “Everything’s okay now. The police came and I talked to the owner’s lawyer.”

“Open houses seem to be a lot more dangerous than I ever figured,” he drawled.

“Not usually. You just know about the bad ones.” She tried to smile, but wasn’t sure it worked. Nor did her voice sound as confident as she wished. She looked back at him. “Why are you here?”

“I didn’t want my realtor to kick the bucket before our deal was consummated, completed. You know, finished.” He gave her a sly grin. “And I was in the neighborhood. Checking on some orders. Whether everything was delivered on time.”

Was it her imagination that his neck turned pink under that tan?

“
Your
realtor?” She sat up straighter.

“It was three against none, and you won.”

“Huh?”

George and I agreed with your grandfather. You’re the best realtor around, so I’m sticking with you.” He grinned and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

“So your checking on me was strictly a business decision?”
Not me? Just your
business deal
with me?

He seemed to chuckle then replied, “Until the Highland house is sold—assuming it’s my offer that closes. After that … we’ll see.” He smiled broadly. “Surely you don’t think it was something else that brought me over here.” One eyebrow raised as his mouth quirked.

Oh really!
She’d felt his heart pounding—when he was hugging her.
To lead her on like that, to imply that it was strictly business! She stood up, relieved that her legs seemed to have developed bones again.