The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse (8 page)

Carla poured coffee into a mug and brought it back to her desk. She was glad she finally made a decision about Martin’s birthday. It had been nagging at her for some time. She’d take Martin to dinner and give him a tie as a present. And if it turned out that he wasn’t happy with the arrangements or gift, too bad. As of this moment, her complaint department was officially on hiatus. She was no longer going to be a mat for any man’s feet.

* * *

Jessie Thompson hated to go home, lately, now that Jake was there supposedly on the mend. She’d walk into the same scene day after day and that evening was no different or less nasty. As she turned the key in the lock, she heard the bass of the TV vibrating against the front windows. She could have broken down the door and Jake wouldn’t have heard. The man had to be deaf—or dead. The thought both chilled and, yes, delighted her. If he were gone, she’d be free in so many ways, and yet…. She let that thought drop as she opened the door and walked inside.

The combined stench of stale beer and cigarettes made her choke as her eyes began to swim against the dense haze of cigarette smoke that filled the air like a rain cloud. Lately everything smelled like a dirty ashtray. Before the accident, Jake would smoke outside the house. Now that he was less mobile, he not only smoked inside, but he smoked twice as much. If he didn’t cut down, she’d threaten to stop buying cigarettes for him. However knowing Jake, he’d merely find another way to get them. When it came to his own creature comforts, he proved to be mighty resourceful. Getting a job, well, that was something else entirely.

Jake sat splayed in his recliner like a Buddha, half-asleep. His soiled grayed tee shirt barely covered the extra pounds now packed around his middle. A crumpled, empty bag of potato chips lay on the floor next to him, while the evidence still clung to his shorts. Jessie moved quickly through the discarded empty beer cans strewn on the area rug and shut off the TV.

Jake had to get a job, if not for financial reasons, for her sanity. Every time she walked into this mess, she could hear Aunt Louise’s voice loud and clear. How many times had she begged her to leave the slob? It wasn’t right for him to lie around in his own waste while she slaved at a full-time job. She shouldn’t have to come home and clean up after the pig. In that respect, her aunt was right. She wasn’t getting any younger and often came home exhausted.

She noticed the cigarette still burning in the ashtray and waded through the empties to put it out. Her luck, the moron’ll burn down the house next. “Jake, wake up!” she said, shaking him.

“Whaat?” he slurred. “Where’s the fire?”

She wanted to let loose and scream at him, but realized it would be a total waste of good breath. He was half out of it and she’d never reach him tonight. Tears of anger and regret stung her eyes and, a beat later, began to fall as she made her way to the kitchen. Putting the tea kettle up, she realized how useless it was to get upset over her good-for-nothing husband. Perhaps Aunt Louise will loan her the money to find a decent divorce lawyer. She’d had enough.

Jessie tried to put things in perspective as she sat there warming her hands around the mug as if it could travel to her heart, which felt like ice. Logically, when something is diseased, one should excise it. In that respect, cutting Jake loose would be the right course of action. No one would point any fingers of accusation at her. She’d remained by her man through it all. And it hadn’t been a picnic. So, why couldn’t she do the
right
thing? Why couldn’t she look him in the eye and tell him, “Enough!”

Grabbing the mug, she walked into the bedroom. Her mouth fell open as the mug dropped to the floor. The bed was covered in rose petals. A large birthday card was propped against her pillow. It had been signed: “To the love of my life.” How had she forgotten her own birthday? Yet, Jake, even in his sorry state, remembered. She felt achingly touched.

A fleeting memory of their making love at the cabin at Oak Creek Lake in Sedona on their honeymoon passed in front of her eyes. They had been so happy then. Jessie sighed as she sat on the bed. Despite all the disappointment and hurt, Jesse knew she loved Jake and would never leave him. Why did love screw with one’s head and hurt so much?

Chapter Ten

Haywood Wish stood before Orson Hemmings feeling like a six-year-old as the automobile tycoon fastened his steel-blue watery eyes on him. Each time Haywood walked into this office, he felt like a child who’d been called down to the principal. He disliked Hemmings’ condescending tone. Just because he had a great deal of money, it didn’t make him a better man. He still had to put his pants on the same way that Haywood did—one leg at a time.

“You have another report for me?” Hemmings clipped.

“Yes, sir. I’ve documented everything I’ve seen since our last meeting. It’s all in this folder. “Haywood took a step closer to the large mahogany desk and handed it to him.

Hemmings glanced through the paper and photos in the folder and then looked up at Haywood, who was still standing at attention as if he were in the military. “There’s nothing incriminating here.”

Haywood noted a hint of disappointment in his voice as if the man truly wanted his wife to be caught cheating on him. Good ole Heather finally wore out her welcome it would seem and he wants to get rid of her. Serves her right.

“No, sir.”

Hemmings continued to stare down at the report that Lynne had carefully typed for Haywood.

“To be honest, your wife has done nothing to tarnish her vows of matrimony,” Haywood replied, proud of his expansive vocabulary. Heather Hemmings hadn’t been the only person to use the library. “She’s been frequenting the library, spas and has done a great deal of shopping.”

“Then what do I need you for?” Hemmings bellowed.

“Actually, you don’t. Your wife isn’t cheating on you.”

As much as Haywood had wanted to find some dirt on Heather to even up the score, he hadn’t. The thought of fabricating false information had occurred to him, but his sense of fair play wouldn’t allow him to do so. He also found private investigating boring. Lynne had suggested he get his real estate license. He was seriously considering it.

“Then you’re fired. Tell Jessica to cut you a check for your services.”

“Thank you, sir,” Haywood said and walked out of Hemmings office a happier man. If he never saw either Hemmings again it would be too soon.

* * *

As Lynne drove to meet a young couple at a house that had just come on the market, her thoughts strayed to Haywood as they often did lately. She didn’t know what she liked about him the best. Aside from his slow drawl and his adorable, boyish smile complete with dimples, he was so damned honest and forthright. Hell, she doubted that man had a devious bone in his entire body, which by the way, she loved, as well. That tall, lanky body of his which gave her so much pleasure played a huge part in her frequent daydreams. To say that he was different from most of the men she’d known would be a gross understatement. She could just about read whatever he was thinking mirrored in those guileless, ocean-blue eyes of his.

To be honest, the only drawback to their relationship was his lack of money, which was definitely caused, by his lack of ambition. She blamed his mother for that. Why would a guy bust his ass if he lived at home and paid no rent? Well, she wanted Haywood and intended to break his cycle of dependence on that woman or any other. He was going to be her man and provide for her— of course with a little help from her to get him started.

He’d called her to let her know that he was off the private investigation case. When she asked if he was going back to Gilbert, he’d told her he’d be looking for another job in the Phoenix area. That’s when the wheels in Lynne’s mind began to turn. She told him to sit tight, because she might have something for him.

Lynne’s agency hired outside companies to do title searches in order to turn up any liens or debts on properties they intended to buy. Perhaps she could convince Haywood to try this kind of investigation. He’d probably be good at it. She had figured all the man needed was some direction and motivation. As for the latter, well, she was the prize.

She’d had a personal interest in Haywood from the start. There was something about him that drove her to help him become financially solid. Now she knew that
something
was love. With his feelings for her being just as strong, marriage was the next logical step. They were seeing each other on an everyday basis. He practically lived in her apartment, so when she suggested his moving in with her, he agreed and gave up the short-term rented apartment he’d leased from her. She liked the way he fit into her life and could easily see it becoming permanent. The fact that he liked to cook hadn’t even figured into her assessment—much.

Chapter Eleven

As the weeks passed, Carla soon found herself going to the gym more often without Lynne. Short-staffed at the real estate office, Lynne had less and less time to spend at the gym. Because Carla saw Richard practically every day, she hardly noticed Lynne’s absence. They’d work out and then go for coffee or do lunch. Needless to say, she began to look forward to going to the gym more and more, which helped keep her weight-loss regimen on track. More importantly, she and Richard had become real close friends and she often found herself looking forward to seeing him. He listened to her ideas for new books and always made her feel good–sometimes, too damn good. The way she wished Martin would make her feel. She wondered if Richard looked forward to seeing her, as well.

She got her answer one Saturday morning in late October. Arriving at the gym, she found Richard standing outside by the front door of the gym. His face brightened as he saw her approach. Carla felt her heart begin to gallop and she quickened her step.

“Hi!” she greeted him.

As if having to make excuses as to why he was outside, Richard said, “It was such a gorgeous day, I felt like waiting outside.”

“For me?”

His face reddened and she was soon sorry she’d said that, but softened it by adding, “I’m glad you did.”

He nodded and changed the subject. “We’d better get started.”

They dropped their stuff off at the locker rooms and met at the exercise equipment. After a grueling half-hour on the treadmill, they swam in the indoor pool as they often did. Carla had ceased being embarrassed that her body wasn’t bikini-worthy. A great deal had to do with the changes that had already taken place in the months that had passed. She’d been losing the weight steadily and was looking better.

But she had to admit that some of her ease came from the way she caught Richard looking at her appreciatively from time to time when he didn’t think she noticed—definitely a boost to her ego. And she’d have to be blind not to notice the bulge in his swim trunks, which he tried to hide by hastily wrapping a towel around himself or diving into the pool. Since she certainly couldn’t be the reason for his hard on, she convinced herself that Richard must be a typical male who got turned on by the least little sight of a woman’s body in a bathing suit. Too bad she was just as guilty of getting excited by looking at his body sometimes. She found his build attractive, and sometimes had the urge to reach out and stroke his beautifully proportioned body or trace that line of chest hair that disappeared into his bathing trunks.

Of course, she felt guilty to have such thoughts, being a married woman. She told herself she was only reacting like any woman who sees a hot guy in a bathing suit and not because it was Richard. Then why did she feel the pooling warmth between her legs when she caught sight of his bulge straining against his bathing trunks? It had to be because she hasn’t had sex in a while, right? She pulled her mind away from those thoughts and watched Richard gracefully slice the water with perfect strokes.

After about twenty laps, they showered and met at the reception desk.

“Do you have time for lunch?” Carla asked.

“Yes,” he said after a quick glance at his watch.

“Great! I have something to show you.”

“I love surprises,” he said. “Meet you at the 5 & Diner.”

After they were seated and placed their order, Carla removed a folder from her tote.

“What’s that?”

She pushed it toward Richard and said, “Open it,” in a voice dripping with breathless excitement.

Realizing what must be in the folder, he smiled. “You’ve finished the story.”

She nodded. A big grin broke out on her own face.

“Can I read it?”

“Of course, silly! That’s why I brought it.”

It took all of five minutes for Richard to read the picture book entitled,
Penelope and the Little Piggy Bed.

“It’s adorable and your illustrations capture the characters perfectly. I wish I had kids to read it to.”

“Me, too,” she said in little more than a whisper.

Picking up on the sadness in her voice, Richard reminded her, “Think of the joy thousands of kids will get when they read it. Doesn’t that make you feel good?” He leaned forward and reached out to cover her hand on the table. Electricity shot up his arm.