As they neared the clearing at the edge of the woods Mitch could see lights in the windows of the old Joshua mansion. And floodlights were on out back. Callie was stretched out in a lawn chair on the patio. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t seem to notice their arrival.
But Luanne and Lila sure did. The two of them rushed to the kitchen door, utterly distraught.
“Winnie, what happened to your mouth?” Lila cried out.
“He got punched,” Mitch informed them.
“Who would do such a rotten thing?” Luanne demanded.
“One of your new neighbors took offense at his behavior.”
“But Winnie’s not well,” Lila protested.
“He understands that now. It’s all been ironed out.”
Lila examined Winston’s bloodied face, clucking over him. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.” She took him by the hand and led him upstairs.
Luanne remained with Mitch in the kitchen, which still smelled nasty even though he’d unclogged that drain. Some form of rodent must have died in a cupboard somewhere. The trick would be finding it. Sounded like a job custom made for cousin Clarence.
“What did Winnie do?” Luanne demanded, hands on her hips.
“Took a bite out of a young lady’s behind. Or tried to.”
“Dear, dear. Mitch, I’m so sorry we had to drag you out into the night this way.”
“No problem. That’s what neighbors are for. Speaking of which, your new neighbors will be paying you a visit tomorrow.”
“You mean that football star?”
“His mother and his cousin Clarence. They’d like to meet you. And Clarence is real sorry about what happened.”
“Well, isn’t that sweet of them. It will be nice to have callers. And now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’d better go help Lila.”
“Luanne, have you seen Winston with a pair of wire cutters recently?”
She stared at him blankly. “Did you say wire cutters?”
“I did. Do you own a pair? I seem to have misplaced mine.”
“The toolbox is out in the mudroom. Help yourself,” Luanne said, starting down the hallway toward the stairs.
The mudroom was off the kitchen. Mitch found a rusty toolbox on a shelf next to assorted mud-caked winter boots. It contained the usual household tools-including a pair of wire cutters. They were right on top, in fact. He stared at them before he closed the toolbox and went back out onto the patio.
“Hey,” he called to Callie.
“Hey,” she responded, stretched out there in a baggy T-shirt and jeans.
He sank gingerly into an ancient director’s chair, positive it would give way under him. But it held. “I test drove a new Silverado today.”
“I didn’t know you were shopping for a truck.”
“I’m not.”
Her big gray eyes searched his face carefully. “What did you find out?”
“That June sucks as a car salesman.”
“He hates it, Mitch. And his dad bullies him nonstop. That’s why he’s absolutely determined to set sail for the Keys as soon as humanly possible. Do you think I should go along or not?”
“Callie, I can’t answer that one for you. I do think June will be happier if he strikes out on his own. He’s stewing in his own juices right now.” Not to mention Bonita’s. “But you two have only been together for a couple of months. And you’ve dreamt about coming to the Dorset Academy for years. You’re living out your dream here. You’ll be giving that up if you go away with him.”
“I know that.” She sighed. “But I want to be with him. I can’t imagine not being with him. And what’s more important than love? It’s the only thing that really lasts, isn’t it?”
Mitch didn’t go anywhere near that. He’d loved and lost Maisie to ovarian cancer. Loved and lost Des to her ex-husband Brandon. True, he did have Des back now. But for how long? Love didn’t last. Nothing lasted. All you could truly count on was the moment that you were living in right now. “Christmas break is just a few weeks away. You could finish out the semester, then fly down there and meet up with him.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I can loan you the plane fare.”
“I wouldn’t be able to pay you back for ages.”
“So that’ll be my Christmas present to you. Just think about it, okay? Who knows, by then you may not feel the same way about each other.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Is June seeing somebody else?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because he’s been acting so strange the past few days. Like he’s, I don’t know, all torn up emotionally.”
“You should talk to each other about it. That’s what couples do.”
“You’re right, I guess.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders helplessly. “I mean, whatever.”
Mitch said good night to Callie and headed back into the woods toward the hole in the fence, wondering if he should have told her everything. But it wasn’t his business to tell her about June and Bonita. That was up to June, wasn’t it?
Well, wasn’t it?
He found the hole easily enough but took a wrong turn somewhere in the woods on the other side and came out by Tyrone Grantham’s swimming pool instead of his driveway. The party was over. Everyone was gone-except for an enormous middle-aged black woman and chubby young black girl who were gathering up all of the plastic cups and paper plates and stuffing them into a trash barrel. The smell of perfume lingered in the air. Someone’s yellow bikini top was floating in the pool.
“What do you want?” the woman demanded, glowering at him. “You some kind of a reporter?”
“I was seeing Mr. Lash home. Just came back to get my truck. I’m a friend of the resident trooper. Are you Mrs. Grantham?”
She nodded her head. “Chantal. I know you from the TV, don’t I? You’re that movie critic with the funny eyebrows.”
“That’s me, all right. Except there’s nothing funny about my-”
“This here’s Monique.”
“Hello there, Monique.”
“Hi,” she responded distantly, her gaze fastened on the pavement.
“That bunch of no good leeches had no business here,” Chantal fumed as she tossed more trash in the barrel. “It was that old fool Calvin let ’em in. Hoping one of those girls would get so high she’d spend the night with him. I worked the streets, okay? I know what men are really like. Even you so-called respectable men. You’re all sick. And weak. Can’t control your evil impulses. We’re the strong ones. The good Lord knows that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” she barked at him. “My Tyrone’s a good boy. He tries to do the right thing. But he’s had to fend for himself and Rondell ever since he was a child. I wasn’t there for him then. Now I am. So you go home and leave us alone, hear? Just go home.”
She answered her cell phone on the first ring. Always did.
“Did I wake you up?”
“No, I just climbed into bed.”
“What’s the Deacon up to?” he asked, fetching a Bass Ale from his fridge. Quirt was nose down in the kibble bowl enjoying a late night happy meal.
“Watching a rerun of NCIS, what else?”
“Is he wearing his jacket in the house?”
“He is. I was thinking I might burn it when goes to bed-except I swear he never does. You get Winston home okay?”
“I did. Someone cut a hole in the fence between the two properties. That’s how he got in.”
“Did Winston do it?”
“He says not. I did find wire cutters in his toolbox, but my money’s on a tabloid scuzzball.”
“I’d believe that. I’ll tell the Granthams in the morning. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Da Beast was a lot nicer than I was expecting him to be. I kind of liked him, I must confess.”
“He can be very likeable. He can also change gears uber-fast.”
“So shall we talk menu for tomorrow night?”
“Serve whatever you want, Mitch. I won’t be eating a single bite.”
“That’s my girl. Have I told you recently how adorable you are?”
“I’m not feeling very adorable right now.”