“I’m sure you’re right,” James agreed just to get Joan to stop talking.
Exiting through the one-car garage, he was again impressed by the tidiness of the house. There wasn’t so much as an oil spot in the garage, and the flower beds in the backyard had been cleared of leaves and the spent stalks of perennials, and they were redolent with the fragrance of fresh mulch. James read the carefully written signs identifying which blooms he could expect to appear in the spring and early summer. He was also delighted to see a raised square of earth surrounded by wire mesh fence at the rear of the property.
“A vegetable garden!” James exclaimed in delight, and he walked around the perimeter of vacant soil. Glancing upward at the group of trees, he couldn’t help but draw in a breath as he took in the sturdy tree fort, which had been built to resemble a little castle, complete with turrets and a trap door. A stout rope ladder offered access to the aerial kingdom and a toy telescope had been attached to one of the walls to allow for the scouting of enemies.
I couldn’t tear that down! James thought, wishing that he was still small or agile enough to scamper up the ladder and spend a future summer afternoon reading inside the leafy escape.
When he returned through the garage into the house, he found Joan examining the contents of the refrigerator.
“Looks like they’re having chicken for dinner,” she remarked, as though it were perfectly acceptable to scrutinize a seller’s fridge. “So… should we go back to the office and draw up an offer?”
“Yes.” James’s heart tripped in excitement as he gazed around the room. “I love this house. This is where I’d like to live. It already feels…”
“Like home?” Joan smiled with sincerity. “I recognize the look on your face. I’ve seen it a thousand times before, and I never get tired of it.”
James spent the next hour signing documents and rereading the legalese written in a minute font on a stack of preapproval papers drawn up by Shenandoah Savings & Loan.
“I commend you for having your financial ducks in a row,” Joan said. “If only all of my clients were this prepared. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve worked my tail off to get to the offer stage only to discover they don’t have enough money in the bank to pay for a single mortgage payment!”
“It’s not easy to come up with the down payment most banks require these days.” James felt he needed to defend those struggling to become homeowners for the first time. “In my parents’ day, it was easier to purchase a house. Now, people have to wait longer and longer until they have enough money.”
“Which they can save by not maxing out their credit cards. Or by living with their parents.” Joan shot James a meaningful glance. “But I fear this trend only helps to foster dependency in our children. My own sons, for example, will find their bedrooms transformed into exercise and craft rooms as soon as they graduate college. They’re welcome to come home for visits, but that is it!” She stacked a sheaf of papers with violent decisiveness.
“You might find that you need them around more than you’d originally planned,” James commented argumentatively. “That’s why I moved in with my father. I wasn’t trying to leech off him, but to care for him. My financial situation wasn’t part of the equation. I quit my job in Williamsburg to be with him.”
Joan blinked and then made a quick recovery. “That’s so devoted of you! But now he has a new wife to coddle him and you can get busy finding one of your own, right? Maybe you won’t need to take down that tree house after all.”
Fighting an urge to tell the Realtor that she didn’t possess an ounce of tact, James requested that she call him as soon as the owners responded to the offer and marched out of the office. Even though it was only eleven, his stomach was rumbling in hunger. He dialed Lucy’s number on his cell phone.
“Are you free for lunch?” he asked her. “I’m craving a diner meal.”
“Sure am,” she answered. “I’ve got one of those awful split shifts this weekend and am on the clock at one, so I’ll have to meet you at Dolly’s armed and dangerous.”
James visualized how Lucy’s toned yet feminine body filled out her brown and beige uniform. “That’s just how I like you. You know where to find me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Your island booth. Why do you always sit there, James?”
Reflecting on the vacation poster with its pristine white sand and cerulean ocean, he replied, “Because I dream of going to a place like that someday. I’d like to put a lounge chair in the shade and just read. For once, I’d catch up on all those books piled up on my nightstand that I never seem to have time for.”
“Seems pretty antisocial,” Lucy remarked.
“Oh, it’d be great if you were there with me. I’d rather talk to you than read a book anyway.” He sighed as he pictured them sharing a giant cocktail served in a hulled-out pineapple as an ocean breeze fluttered through the palms above their double hammock. “Hopefully, I’ll be too short on cash to go this year, but I’ll tell you all about that over lunch.”
Dolly welcomed James as though he had been away at sea for six months. “Where have you been?” the red-cheeked proprietor demanded as she pulled him into her cushioned bosom. “You’re not goin’ into hidin’ already ’cause of Murphy’s book, are you?”
Several diners instantly stopped eating in order to listen to his response. James glanced at a couple to his left and eyed their fried chicken and mashed potato platters with longing. “I’ve been working and helping Milla out with wedding preparations. I’m not going to allow The Body in the Bakery to change my life. My only hope is that the book is good for the town.”
“Oh, it’s gonna be!” Dolly declared happily. “I’ve already got calls from newspapers, magazines, and even the TV people about doin’ a story on our diner. If they’re houndin’ me, they must be nearly breakin’ down the door of the Sweet Tooth to see if it looks like a place where somebody might’ve been murdered.”
James frowned. “Someone did die there, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Clamping her hand over her mouth, Dolly led him to his usual booth. “You want sweet tea, hon?”
“Unsweetened, please.” James removed his food diary from his coat pocket. “I’m keeping a food log,” he explained before Dolly could ask. “Even with artificial sweetener, tea costs me no calories, but I’ve got to write everything down in order to show the nutritionist what I like to eat. But I’ll wait to order lunch. Lucy’s joining me.”
Dolly’s eyes glimmered with interest. There was nothing she enjoyed more than a fresh piece of gossip. “You two gonna rekindle the ole fire?” She reached over and gave his arm a playful pinch. “And what nutritionist? Not the lady whose sons went after the Diva of Dough!”
“One and the same.” James spoke loud enough for the eager ears of his fellow diners to hear him defend Dr. Ruth. “Dr. Wilkins is a lovely and gentle person. Her sons were only standing up for her because Paulette Martine made a fool of their mother. Could you imagine having to pay for three college tuitions at once? Dr. Ruth can’t afford to lose clients because that woman from New York chose to mock one of our own.”
He knew that his last statement would resonate with most of the diners. He heard a man seated nearby whisper, “Damn right. That Yankee’s gonna make our local gal go broke,” while a woman said, “Poor Dr. Ruth. Her boys were raised proper. See how they did their best to look after their mama?”