Читать книгу Up Close and Personal - Fern Michaels - Страница 10

Jake did precisely what he had told his father he would: headed straight for Burger King on Bacon Ridge Road. He ordered two Whoppers, a Big Double Fish, fries, a milk shake, and a Coke before he headed to a parking space where he chewed his way through his fast-food dinner. He really had to stop eating this crap even though they said the burgers were flame-broiled, he thought, continuing to chow down on the fast food.

Now he had two things to think about tonight (three, if you counted Amanda Pettijohn): Trinity Henderson, the little girl from his past; and Sarabess Windsor, the woman his mother and his aunt Mitzi had hated with a passion.

As Jake munched his way through one of the two Whoppers he thought about his mother, who had died during his senior year in high school. Nola Forrest had been the sweetest, gentlest, kindest woman in the world. To his knowledge, his mother had never said an unkind word to or about another living soul. She’d loved all children and animals. He knew for a fact that she’d loved him with all her heart.

Their gardens, which his mother had planted and tended, had been written up in every Southern magazine in print. She’d taken him and his friends camping and didn’t mind sleeping in a tent, and she’d laughed about the creepy-crawly things that abounded in all campgrounds. She’d taught him to drive, taught him how to swing a baseball bat. She’d played tennis with him at least twice a week. Even though they’d had a cook and a housekeeper, his mother had cooked all his favorite foods one night a week. They’d laugh and giggle over the food that wasn’t good for them, but she’d justify it by saying they would double up on vegetables the rest of the week. The brownies that she made every Saturday morning were the best.

But she knew. How could she not have known? Everyone in town knew that Rifkin Forrest had a thing going on with Sarabess Windsor. However, no one in town, and that included his mother, knew if that thing had ever been acted upon. Jake thought it had, but he couldn’t prove it. Once, during his sophomore year, he’d gotten the courage to actually discuss with his mother what he considered his father’s indiscretion. She hadn’t put him off. Instead, she’d said rumors should never be repeated. Her eyes had been so sad when she said it. Oh, yes, she knew.

When she’d gotten sick, she’d changed her will, leaving the entire Granger fortune, except the mansion, to him, in a trust that he couldn’t tap until he was thirty-five years of age. The mansion had come to him when he turned thirty. The remainder of the robust trust would be available to him in ten months. His father had been stunned and actually started proceedings to contest the will, but he hadn’t followed through once he read a letter his mother’s attorney handed him hours after the reading of the will. His father had never divulged the contents of the letter, nor had Jake asked. Things had changed after that, though. There was less spending money, his first car had been secondhand. He’d gone to a second-tier college, and his allowance had been meager. He’d worked to have extra spending money.

To say he and his father had a close, warm relationship would be a lie. They worked in the same office, had dinner occasionally, but they didn’t really socialize. They never called one another just to chat—there was nothing to chat about. As far as Jake knew, his father never went to the cemetery to visit or leave flowers on his mother’s grave.

His father still lived in the stately historical mansion that had once belonged to the Grangers of Crestwood. He himself had never gone back to the mansion after he graduated from law school. Instead, after his time in Albany, he found a three-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Crestwood that suited him just fine because the owner of the complex said they accepted dogs. Not that he had a dog, but he was going to get one. Plus, he liked the window boxes and the colorful striped awnings over the windows. The window boxes and the flowers reminded him of his mother. Each renter was responsible for the flowers, something he took seriously. His window boxes were the prettiest, he thought smugly. When he was finally settled, he was going to go to the SPCA and adopt a dog.

He’d furnished the entire apartment with secondhand furniture and a few antiques he’d picked up at garage sales. If he had anything to say about it, he would never set foot in his mother’s old home even though it now belonged to him.

Jake jammed the napkins and the leftovers from the Whoppers into the bag his food had come in. He slipped his car into gear, drove over to the trash can, and dumped the bag. “You can just kiss my ass, Sarabess Windsor,” he muttered as he waited for a break in traffic before swinging out onto South Main Street.

So much for Sarabess Windsor. Short and succinct. On to Amanda Pettijohn. No doubt she was ticked off big-time. He had to decide if ticking off the lovely beauty was important or not. In two seconds flat he decided that in the scheme of things it wasn’t important.

Jake buzzed on down the road, stopped for the light at Five Points, continuing on until he came to Tea Farm Road, where he made a left. He made several more turns before he brought his Mustang to a complete stop. He climbed out, briefcase in one hand, the fish fillet and milk shake in the other. He whistled for Elway, the resident cat that he and the others fed and took care of. Elway was disdainful and had no loyalty to any of the tenants. He went where the food was, the main reason he was so fat. No amount of enticing or cajoling could tempt the cat to come indoors. He would follow the tenants up the steps to their individual decks, where he would wait patiently for his food to be put onto a plate and his milk or water into a bowl. Battle-scarred Elway, one part of his ear missing, his tail limp and bedraggled, had six such arrangements.

Again, Jake whistled for the cat, who came on the run and followed Jake up the steps to his second-floor apartment. Jake opened the door and waited like he always did to see if Elway would follow him. He always left the door open in the hope the fat cat would venture indoors, but he never did. Today, however, Elway trotted indoors, looked around, then leaped up onto the tweedy-looking sofa that held a thousand different smells. Stunned, Jake made no move to close the door but reached for a dish and a little bowl in the cabinet. He crumbled up the fish filet and poured the milk shake into the bowl. He set them on the floor and waited to see what the cat would do. What a coup this was! He could hardly wait to tell his neighbors.

Elway hopped off the sofa and marched to the kitchen. He gobbled down his food, licked his whiskers, then inhaled the milk shake. Jake felt pleased with himself. When the fat cat finished his dinner, he meandered back to the sofa where he hopped back on, stretched out, and went to sleep.

“Son of a gun! Looks like I got myself a cat!” Jake walked outside to bring in the box he had placed on his deck, hoping this day would come, and filled it with litter from the plastic container he kept in his pantry. He closed and locked the door.

Jake was so pleased seeing the cat sleeping on his couch, he forgot the anger he felt toward his father. He didn’t care about Amanda, either. How weird that a mangy cat could take the place of the luscious Amanda Pettijohn.

As Jake started to get changed he had one leg in his jeans when he thought about Trinity Henderson. He’d promised himself to think about little Trinny. In his bare feet, he walked out to the kitchen, popped a beer, and carried it back to the couch of a thousand smells. He was extra careful not to wake Elway. He made a mental note to take Elway’s picture so he could prove to the other tenants that Elway had indeed come indoors and actually climbed onto the couch and gone to sleep. He propped his feet on the scarred coffee table, fired up a cigarette—his one bad vice, which he had no intention of giving up—and puffed contentedly. He told himself two cigarettes a day weren’t going to harm him. Settled on the couch, he leaned back, closed his eyes, and traveled back in time to the last time he’d seen Trinity Henderson….

The back tire of the bike he was riding skidded on the shale road. A heartbeat later he was flat on his back staring up at Trinity Henderson, who was laughing her head off. Girls are so stupid, was his first thought. Then he decided to cut the girl a little slack because she was great fun. “Anyone else make it out here today?” he grumbled as he got to his feet. He picked up his bike and straddled it.

Trinity brushed at her curly blonde hair that was always full of straw. She was picking at it. She shrugged.

Jake immediately knew what the shrug meant. Sarabess Windsor had corralled the others and invited them to the house to spend time with Emily, which meant there would be no ball game today. “I told them to come in the back way. Miz Windsor can’t see us on the back road,” Jake said.

“Then how do you explain the fact that she was waiting for them on the back road? They didn’t want to go, but you know how Miz Windsor is. She would have called their parents and told them about their bad manners. They’re probably playing Parcheesi, drinking lemonade, and eating those sticky little cakes Emily likes so much. It’s pretty hard to say no to Miz Windsor,” Trinny said sourly.

“That means the guys will be up there for two hours, and I have to get home to mow the lawn. I hate that woman, and I hate Emily even more,” Jake grumbled.

“Yeah, I know. It could be worse, Jake. She could have corralled you, too.”

“Nah. I told my father how much I don’t like her and Emily. I told him I wasn’t going up to the big house anymore. I told my mother, too. My mother told my father I didn’t have to go there if I didn’t want to go. My father tried to tell me it was a charitable thing to do. He meant keeping Emily company. All she does is whine and cry. You have to let her win every game or Miz Windsor gets mad. I’m seventeen, and I think I’m a little old to be playing Parcheesi. I can’t stand that girl. She isn’t even nice to Miz Windsor. My parents would ground me for a month if I sassed them the way Emily sasses her mother.”

“When you’re sick you can do whatever you want.” Trinity gave Jake such a push he sailed forward on his bike. “I heard Emily is sweet on you. Like in really sweet. Marie told me the last time they were up there all Emily wanted to do was talk about you until Miz Windsor made her stop and told her you were too busy with your paper route and all that kind of stuff. Marie said Emily kicked and screamed and said she wanted you there NOW. You must be hot stuff, Jake Forrest. I don’t know how she can think that. You’re so homely, with all those freckles and that hair of yours that stands straight up.”

Jake flushed. “You’re only twelve years old. You shouldn’t be talking about stuff like that. If I’m homely, then you’re downright ugly, with those spaces between your teeth and that pigtail. You have freckles on your nose, too. Look how skinny you are! You look like a stick of spaghetti.”

Trinity stopped in her tracks, hands on her hips. “I can whup your ass with one hand tied behind me. You take that back, Jake Forrest.”

“Not in this lifetime, Trinny Ninny.” Jake pedaled as fast as he could on the shale road because he knew she was going to make good on her threat. “Okay, okay, I didn’t mean it. You’re beautiful even if you do have spaces between your teeth. I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. Truce, Trinny.” He was looking over his shoulder and knew his words weren’t getting through to the skinny girl. From the determined look on her face, he knew she was going to whup his ass. How was that going to look to the others when they found out? And they would find out because Trinny Ninny would make sure she told them. Not good, that was for sure. He slid on the shale and once again was on the ground, Trinity standing over him. He looked up and was stunned to see Trinny’s eyes glistening with tears. Ah, shit! He rolled over and got to his feet. “Okay, take your best shot,” he said cavalierly.

Trinny strode past him. “You aren’t worth it, you jerk!”

“Aw, c’mon, Trinny, give it up. I’m sorry. Maybe I am homely. Who cares? Let’s go riding, or we can hit balls. I’ll pitch to you.”

Trinny pounced and was in his face within seconds. “Are you really sorry, or did you just say that?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but you are skinny. I guess you can’t help that. Neither one of us can do anything about our freckles. Sooner or later your teeth will grow together. If they don’t, you can always get braces. So, do you want to go riding, or do you want to hit some balls?”

Trinity thought about the question. What she really wanted to do was go swimming in the pond, but there was no way she was going to let Jake Forrest see her skinny body in a bathing suit. He’d laugh himself silly, and she’d cry all night long. “Why don’t you just go home and build your character some more by mowing the grass.”

“If that’s the way you feel about it, I will. Not that my character needs building, either. Who’s being a jerk now?” With that, Jake turned his bike around and headed down the shale road. He pedaled slowly to make sure he didn’t slip again. Trinny would be laughing into next week if that happened. He stopped once, turned around, and waved at his young friend. He felt a lump form in his throat when she didn’t wave back.

When Jake arrived home ahead of schedule, he walked around to the back of the house, where his mother was working in one of the flowerbeds.

“Was the ball game canceled, Jake? You’re home early.”

Jake sat down on the grass and hugged his knees. “Things didn’t work out. The witch got to the guys first. There was just me and Trinny. We got into…a thing, and we both said some things to each other. I hurt her feelings, and she hurt mine.”

“Jake, please don’t call Mrs. Windsor a witch. Why in the world would you say anything unkind to Trinity? I know she’s younger than you are, but that’s no excuse. Little girls have feelings. On top of that, I do believe she has a bit of a crush on you. That’s not like you. Well, Jake?”

Jake plucked at a blade of grass and put it between his fingers and whistled. His mother did her best to hide her smile. “She said I was homely and my hair stuck up or something like that.”

Nola Forrest’s smile blossomed as she plunged the trowel into the soft, loamy earth. “Your hair does stand up on end. You were supposed to get a haircut a week ago. You aren’t homely, you’re rather cute. I think that’s what Trinity was trying to say.”

“Jeez, Mom, you didn’t hear her. That’s not what she was trying to say. I was there, and she was mad.”

“Did you apologize?”

“Yeah, up one side and down the other. She wasn’t buying it, so I came home. How come I have to mow the lawn when we have a gardener?”

Nola smiled again. “Because I said so.” Jake rolled his eyes as he made his way to the toolshed to pull out the lawn mower.

As hard as he tried, Jake couldn’t get Trinny’s tear-filled eyes out of his mind. He pushed the mower with a vengeance. He looked over at his mother several times. She waved and smiled.

Seven months later he was standing at the cemetery saying good-bye to his mother. Trinny, wearing a dress and a hat, was there with the Hendersons. She looked so silly he almost laughed, but it was hard to laugh when you were grieving for your mother. He raised his eyes to look across at his aunt Mitzi, his mother’s younger sister. He wished he could leap over the yawning hole in the ground and fall into her arms. Mitzi could always make things better. Suddenly he felt his father’s hand on his arm. He jerked it away. His eyes were still on Mitzi, who had lifted her black veil and shook her head slightly. That look meant he was to cool it.

When it was all over, and he could no longer stem the flow of tears, he made his way to Mitzi’s side. “Can I go home with you, Mitzi? I don’t want…I can’t…”

“No problem, kiddo. You better tell your father, though.”

“I’m not telling him anything. In case you haven’t noticed, he isn’t exactly grieving. And what in the damn hell is she doing here?”

Six different answers tickled Mitzi Granger’s lips, but she didn’t utter any of them. It wasn’t the day to stir up a hornet’s nest. “The whole town is here, Jake. Everyone loved your mother. It’s called paying your respects.”

Jake came out of his reverie and carried his beer bottle out to the kitchen. It was fully dark now. He walked around, turning lights on throughout the apartment. He craned his neck to see if Elway was still on the couch. He was. Before he forgot, he rummaged in a drawer for his digital camera and proceeded to take pictures of the old tomcat from every angle.

Sometimes things worked out really well. Other times, no matter what you did, things just went to hell.

“Where are you, Trinity Henderson? I wonder if you ever knew about the crush I had on you,” Jake muttered as he headed off to the shower.