“Dunno,” Mindy answered.
“Well,” she began and walked to the dining room table, opening her enormous, well-made, designer leather purse. “Tell him I stopped by and brought the papers for him.” Then she yanked out some papers and slapped them down on the table.
“Papers?” Mindy asked as Kami turned back to us.
“Papers,” Kami repeated. “Curt might be dead but that doesn’t mean work stopped and Trev’s still lookin’ for a foreman and they still want Max. They’re offerin’ full benefits, have added a week on his vacation and another five thousand dollars. He’d be a fool not to take it and quit travellin’ around like he’s twenty-two and got no sense.”
I wasn’t sure I liked Max’s sister and found myself lamenting the fact I hadn’t thrown myself on the floor beside the couch like Mindy.
“Kami, Max ain’t gonna work for Dodd,” Mindy said softly and I looked at Mindy in surprise.
“Yeah? Well then it’s good he’s dead, Max doesn’t have that excuse anymore,” Kami shot back.
Now I was sure I didn’t like Max’s sister.
“Brody says he gets paid loads more on the jobs he takes out of town,” Mindy told her.
“They sweetened the pot.”
“I’m thinkin’ they’ll need to make it even sweeter for him to work for Dodd, even seein’ as Dodd’s dead. It’s still workin’ for Dodd,” Mindy pointed out.
Kami directed her gaze to the floor all the while shaking her head, walking toward the door and muttering, “Why am I having this conversation?”
“Would you…” I tried politeness again, “like to stay for a cup of coffee? We were just thinking about pulling together lunch.”
Kami stopped at the door and looked at me. “Thanks but… no.” She appeared to be fighting back a curl in her lip as her eyes travelled the length of me. “I’ll pass on having coffee with another one of Max’s women. We’ll see how long you last then we’ll think about coffee.”
“Kami!” Mindy snapped, her back up, her courage slotting into place, her anger apparent.
“You should be warned, he’s a player,” Kami said to me, ignoring Mindy.
“He is not!” Mindy defended.
Kami’s eyes went to her and she was definitely having trouble with her lip curling now. “Like you’d know.”
“Know him better than you.”
“Hardly,” Kami said derisively.
To her tone, Mindy decided to deliver a twenty-four year old girl’s lethal blow and it was good. “Know you better than you think too and I know you’re just jealous because everyone likes him but everyone thinks you’re a bitch and he’s hot, you’re not and you couldn’t get laid if you tried.”
Kami leaned forward and snapped, “Mindy Smith, shut your mouth!”
“Make me!” Mindy snapped back.
“Ladies, please, this is –” I started.
“You can shut your mouth too, fancy pants,” Kami said to me.
My back straightened as well and I asked, “Did you just call me fancy pants?”
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Kami voice was ugly and it was clear she was raring for a fight.
“No,” I answered calmly, deciding cat fighting with Max’s sister in his house wasn’t on my agenda for the day, “except it’s weak.” She opened her mouth to speak but I spoke first and I did it with glacial politeness. “Please, don’t worry. We’ll make certain that Max gets those papers. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Then I turned and walked toward the kitchen and heard Mindy following me.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kami called to my back.
“Careful on your drive down, those roads are tricky,” I called back and opened a cupboard that hid my face from her but not one I needed anything out of. Mindy got close, I twisted my neck and I bugged my eyes at her. Mindy giggled.
We heard the door close then I closed the cupboard and Mindy and I watched Kami stomp down the steps, get in her shiny SUV, execute a visibly annoyed three-point turn and then drive, too fast, out of the lane.
I turned to Mindy and asked, “Did that just happen?”
Mindy turned to me and replied, “I told you.”
I looked back out the windows and murmured, “How can she be related to Max?”
“Max’s Mom isn’t much better, then again she’s mellowed with age.”
This wasn’t good news.
“You’re good,” she said, the huge smile spreading on her face was also brightening her pretty blue eyes.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“You went all Ice Queen on her, gave her no opening, it was awesome,” Mindy complimented.
“Um…” I didn’t know what to say but was strangely pleased with the praise then I finished, “thanks.”
“Anyway,” Mindy said, clearly over it and on to better things, she turned to the fridge, opened it and asked its shelves, “What’s for lunch?”
“I thought I’d make toasted sandwiches with shaved chicken, Monterey Jack cheese and avocado,” I suggested, a suggestion that was met with silence.
I turned to see Mindy staring at me then she said, “Really?”
“Really,” I answered then asked, “Why?”
“’Cause that sounds freaking great.”
I smiled and said, “It is.” Then reached passed her into the fridge to get the cheese and chicken. “Fire up the stove, darling, let’s make lunch.”
“Cool!” she cried and skip-danced to the stove.
I looked from Mindy to the ceiling and silently said, Thank you.
Then I got out the cheese and chicken.
***
I was standing at the stove, stirring the chopped veggies in olive oil in the skillet when the lights of a vehicle flashed on the walls. I turned from the range and looked to the drive.
The Cherokee. Max was home.
I felt a pleasant shiver slide up my spine and looked to the waning light of a setting sun.
An hour ago, Becca had shown up with my shopping and the news that Max had given the green light for Mindy to go back down the mountain. We talked for awhile, me ascertaining two things. One, Becca was still angry at Damon for “being such a dick” and two, she was “next in line” to get a facial.
They left and I checked my e-mail. No e-mail from Niles so I sent him one asking if he was all right.
Then I sorted my shopping, clipping off the tags, putting things away then I grabbed the cream and sugar bowl I’d found in town. They were handmade, fantastic pottery by a local artisan, larger than normal creamers and sugar bowls, unusual squat shapes with equally unusual twisting handles and they were glazed cream at the top and inside, terra cotta at the bottom. Perfect. I bought them for Max’s kitchen. A gift, a stupid one but my small way of saying “thanks for taking care of me when I was sick”. He didn’t need a creamer and sugar bowl, probably would never use them, but they sure would look good in his kitchen.
Therefore I took them to his kitchen, cleaned them, dried them and filled them, leaving the small milk jug in the fridge and putting the sugar bowl by the coffeepot.
Then I sat at the dining room table and wrote a couple of postcards to friends that I’d also bought the day before.
Then I started dinner.
What I did not do, but should have done, was sort out my messed up head.
The casserole dish had the cubed salmon, king prawns and quartered hardboiled eggs in the bottom, the mashed potatoes (flavored with a hint of English mustard), sitting in a bowl with a dish towel over it, were ready to go on top. The ingredients for the cheesy, mustardy, creamy sauce were by the range, ready to go in when the veggies finished cooking.
I heard the door open and I pulled in a silent breath. Then I looked over my shoulder.