2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office (21 page)

"I'm glad you called," my mom greeted me. I had been too agitated during the last night to call. So I waited until I'd had a cup of coffee in me before picking up the phone in the morning.

She continued, "We're going to drop off The Grands at four this afternoon. Will you—"

"Why would you invite Rick to the Renaissance Fair?" I interrupted.

There was a moment of silence, and she replied, "Oh, you know about that?"

"Yes, Mom, I do. Because he showed up at my show last night. Why did you do it?" I demanded.

"I'd invited him before I met Mark," she said with a sigh. "Hey, it's better to have too many men than not enough, I always say."

I wanted to bang my head on the table. "Well, I don't say that, Mom. I say I'm trying my best not to screw up this relationship. And it's not going so well." My voice reached a screechy pitch before I burst into tears.

"Diana, what's wrong? It's not just Rick showing up, is it?" she asked.

I held the phone away from my face and reached for a tissue. "No," I said, getting control of myself. "I think Mark has someone in Atlanta. Maybe he's breaking up with her while he's down there. I don't know anymore. I'm not even sure he loves me," I sighed.

"That's the bad thing about mystery men," my mom said, "they usually have a skeleton or two hidden in their closets. In this case it's a woman. That's why you go to Puerto Rico with men like Mark and marry men like Rick."

I rolled my eyes. "Mom, please get off the Rick kick. It's not happening."

"Okay, fine," she said. "But I'm not uninviting him to the fair." She paused. "Anyway, why aren't you sure if Mark loves you?"

"Because he hasn't said it yet," I replied. Then I added in a rush, "And I shouldn't really expect it yet, right? I mean we've only been seeing each other a few weeks."

My mom paused to think about this. "Have you said it to him?"

"No," I replied, feeling silly.

"Then maybe you shouldn't be asking yourself why he hasn't said it to you. Maybe you should ask why you haven't said it to him."

Wow, my mom had a way of digging up the truth and making me feel like an idiot all with only a few words.

"Food for thought. Anyway," she continued, changing the subject, "I was hoping you'd take Granddaddy and Uncle Grover with you tonight. We're ordering room service for Aunt Pearl and Mammaw so we can go out to dinner with Ashley and Dan."

"You know I still have Sally here, too," I reminded her. I felt I had more than met my familial obligations without having to drag two old men around with me tonight.

"Yeah, and I've got The Grands to drag around on a daily basis. Would you like to change places?" she snapped.

Not really. But I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of admitting her life sucked more than mine.

"We'll drop them off at four and pick them up in the morning for the fair."

"Fine," I replied. "Just keep Rick out of my way."

"Honey, that's up to the good Lord above. What's meant to be, will be," she replied cryptically.

I spent the rest of the morning changing the strings on my guitar and cleaning my condo. The chores gave me some time to reflect. I couldn't believe I'd broken down like that with my mom. I guess avoiding all contact with Mark until he got back wasn't working so well. I resolved to call him this afternoon. I needed a little time to get myself together so I didn't end up bawling on the phone to him, too. I was also a little worried that flipping him the electronic bird was the last straw; I hadn't heard from him since.

I was playing a short set this evening on the main stage at the Renaissance Fair. Mostly folk ballads and a few slow tempo originals. I didn't play the typical Renaissance Fair songs, but no one seemed to mind. I think the fair organizers liked the way I looked in the princess gown, and so far I'd had no complaints from the crowds of revelers. Tomorrow I would be playing at several locations around the city, ending at the docks as part of a medieval talent show. Poets, jugglers, comic bards, and, of course, musicians all vied for the top honor of the Fair. The organizers encouraged all the hired musicians and actors to enter to offset the amateurs, but we were exempt from top prizes. They came up with all kinds of funny sub-categories for participants that didn't finish in the top three. Last year I was awarded the title of Most Likely to Meet a Handsome Prince.

Come to think of it, it might be just the perfect venue for Carlos and his pirates. Although last night went great, I still didn't have any firm dates for us to play locally. Making a big splash at the talent show might be just the ticket. "The Rum Song" would be perfect.

I texted a quick message to Carlos, detailing my idea. He came back with an excited "Aye!" and signed it with a "P)" which I assumed was a pirate emoticon.

Time to get a shower and out the door. I had promised Carol I'd fill in at the office for her for an hour while she ran some business errands. This would also give us a chance to go over our first full week of numbers. Carol was very into numbers; she had spreadsheets detailing expenses and revenue. I wasn't so much into numbers. I just wanted to make sure Greene's stayed open so that I could have a job when I needed one and, eventually, get my investment back.

*  *  *

It was a beautiful spring day, so I decided to walk the couple of blocks to the office. My spirits lifted as my feet hit the brick sidewalk. The smell of hyacinths and lilacs wafted through the air. Preparations for the Renaissance Fair were underway, with shop owners putting on sidewalk sales and bar owners announcing performances and drink specials in honor of the event. I made a mental note to stop by my favorite bar, McGlynn's, after my meeting with Carol. I could use a martini before Granddaddy and Uncle Grover showed up. Maybe that would be a good time to call Mark as well…

My phone rang. It was Mark. How's that for serendipity?

I took a deep breath and answered.

"Hi," I said brightly.

"Hi. Glad to hear you're interested in exchanging some pleasantries instead of flipping me off," he teased.

Teasing was a good sign. "Sorry about that. It's been kind of stressful around here."

"I can only imagine," he replied. "But I'm wrapping things up down here today, and I'll be back early tomorrow. Maybe I can even be there in time to crawl into bed with you."

My stomach did a little flip.

"Well," I sighed, "they'll be two cranky old men in my bed tomorrow morning. I'll be sleeping on the couch."

"Yeah, that could really wreck the mood," he agreed. "So stay on Ed's boat this weekend."

Oh, that I could. Ed's boat was at a slip off of Dock Street. The yacht was the epitome of old-fashioned luxury. And there was this big, comfy bed…

"I can't," I said, "they'll burn the place down if I leave them alone."

"They can't be that bad."

"They're that bad, Mark."

He sighed. "I really wanted some time alone so we could talk."

"I'd like that too," I said, adding, "if we're actually going to talk about what's going on in your life. Because I'm not feeling too comfortable right now. You talk about tying up lose ends in Atlanta, but you've obviously got more than just packing to do."

"You're talking about my old job," he said.

"And Marsha," I responded, grinding out the word.

"Diana, there's nothing to tie up with Marsha. That was 'tied up' over a year ago. She was my partner, and we were involved for a brief time after I had left the CIA. You don't have to worry about me and Marsha getting back together." I pictured him raking his hand through his hair.

"Then why'd she call you at night. I heard the tone in her voice," I insisted. "I'm more worried about what
her
plans are, not yours."

There was a moment of silence. I'd hit a nerve.
Ah-hah
, I thought, I'm right.

"She's pursuing me—for work. She wants me to continue to work part-time on some of the old projects we handled. She eats, sleeps, and breath
es her job and thinks everyone else should, too."

"I know that's what you think, but I can guarantee that she has a different motive."

Mark was getting frustrated. "Well, I guess you would know. How many ex-boyfriends have you had following you around in the last twenty-four hours?"

Oh, yeah, that.

"I'll take your silence to mean there's been at least one. I love how you get all bent out of shape—about a woman you've never met, I might add—and I'm supposed to just suck it up and get over the fact that you have ex-boyfriends declaring their love for you on a daily basis!"

"Well, at least they're not afraid to declare their love!" I shot back and ended the call.

I was flushed and breathing heavily as I reached Greene's Staffing. I thought about calling him back, but was too worked up. The phone rang again, and I answered it quickly.

"I'm sorry, Mark," I said in a rush.

There was silence on the other end, but I could sense someone was there. I looked at the phone and saw it was the Unknown number again.

"Who is this?" I demanded.

The line went dead.

I stared moodily at the entrance to Greene's, thinking seriously about skipping the meeting and going straight to McGlynn's. A fight with Mark, a call from Mr. Unknown who might actually a blood-thirsty gangbanger. Not exactly a great day so far. Then as I reached for the door of Greene's, the door to Spellbound, a Wiccan specialty store, opened and a familiar figure stepped out.

"Mrs. Kester?" I said in surprise.

She glared at me, obviously angry that I'd caught her in the store. "So what's it to you?" she asked.

"Just surprised to see you in a Wiccan store," I said, trying to peek in her bag.

"They have an excellent selection of candles."

"Do they?" I said raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know that."

"Yes," she replied stiffly. "Well, good day to you."

My spidey-senses were on red alert, but I decided to let it drop for now. I opened the door to Greene's and stepped inside.

Carol gave me a big smile. "Howdy, partner!" Her enthusiasm for our new business bordered on obsessive.

"Hey, have you ever seen that woman before?" I asked Carol, pointing to the retreating figure of Mrs. Kester through the window.

Carol craned her neck. "Sure," she said. "I see her going into Spellbound a couple times a week."

"Really?" I replied in amazement. What would Mrs. Kester be doing in Spellbound? I'm sure it wasn't for the candles.

"Why?" Carol asked.

"That's my awful neighbor."

"Mrs. Kester?" Carol asked. She had heard all the Kester stories over the years. A few of them involved me being late for a temp assignment because of her.

I nodded.

Carol made a face. "From the way you described her, I'd have thought she was older and had a hook nose or something. She looks like a nice lady."

"Don't let her sweet, old lady looks fool you," I said. "There's a monster behind that knit sweater."

Carol laughed. "Maybe we should go see Sybil and find out. I've been wanting to pick up a good luck charm for our new venture."

I made it a point to avoid Spellbound. The few times I'd been in, Sybil, the owner, had told me my aura was cloudy and tried to sell me some incense. "I'm not sure I want to know that badly. I thought you had errands to run?"

Carol made a tsking sound. "Oh, come on. I've got a few minutes. Let's go find out what the old bat was up to." Carol grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "Hey, maybe she can give you a love potion. Get you and Mark back on track."

I followed reluctantly. Love potion, hah! Truth potion was more like it.

Spellbound catered to an eclectic crowd. Witches, new-agers, and pot heads wandered the dusty aisles in search of one-of-a-kind ingredients, magical crystals, and bongs in all shapes and sizes. The smell of incense and patchouli soap hung heavy in the air. Sybil smiled as we entered.

"Hi Carol," she called. "How's business?"

"Pretty exciting," Carol said and gave Sybil the short version of our path to business ownership. "I'd like something special to bring us luck in this new venture," she added.

Sybil snapped her ring-laden fingers. "I have just the thing." She turned around to search the shelves behind her.

I took the opportunity to do some detective work. "Sybil, that lady who was just here," I began.

"Oh, Mrs. Kester. She's a dear," said Sybil, as she dug through a box.

"Yeah," I agreed, "a real dear. Anyway, she's a friend, and I thought I might get her something special. Anything in here you could suggest?"

Sybil set the box down on the counter to think. "Well, she buys a lot of specialty spells. Some are pretty strange, even to me," she added, winking.

"Strange, how?" I asked. This ought to be good.

"The poor dear has a lot of trouble with her neighbors. I think she's in a building with a lot of young, party-types. She's been buying spells to drive them out of the building. There's one girl in particular that must have a heck of an aura, because nothing's working." Sybil shook her head.

Carol gave me a warning look.

I could feel the steam rising in my face. "Don't you think it's a little unethical to give her spells that hurt people?"

Sybil looked as though she'd never considered that before. "Well, they certainly wouldn't hurt anyone. Maybe cause an occasional inconvenience." She leaned in to take a closer look at me. "You know your aura is really cloudy. I wish you'd let me give you a clearing potion."

I remembered Roger and Phil's insistence that I was cursed with bad juju. "You know what, Sybil?" I said. "I'll take whatever you've got. Give me the works!"

Sybil clapped her hands together. "Oh, I'm so glad! I've wanted to do this forever."

By the time she was done with us, we had a Lucky Cat for the office, guaranteed to bring us good fortune in our new venture, and I had a necklace, a candle, some feathers, and a container of bath salts. Sybil assured me my aura was looking better already as we waved goodbye.

"I need to get home soon," I said to Carol as I sniffed the candle and admired the necklace.

She positioned the Lucky Cat on the main counter. I thought it looked hokey, but if it made Carol happy, then it was okay with me. "I'll run to the bank as soon as I check the messages."

A few minutes later she made a squealing noise and hung up the phone. "Oh my!" she cried.

"What?"

"That was a call from Personal Products, Inc. Their regular temporary contractor went bankrupt, and they're looking for a new service," she said excitedly. "Do you know how big that account is?"

I shrugged. I hadn't a clue.

"They use hundreds of light industrial temps. More than Harris Manufacturing. This could be a couple million dollars a year in sales," Carol said, adding with determination, "I want this account."

I'd never seen Carol quite this fired up. "Then let's get it."

"They want to meet Monday. Is your schedule open?"

"Sure, Monday's good for me."

While Carol hurried out to get her errands done, I filed new employee records and answered a couple of phone calls. I had a solid hour of reflection time. Being in the office reminded me of my new position as a business owner. It felt good to be both stable and working for myself. Being a full-time musician was very entrepreneurial, but not something that felt particularly stable. This felt solid. So why, now that I had a big girl job that didn't appear to interfere with my rising rock star career, and I had a man I was crazy about, did I feel so lonely?

*  *  *

I looked longingly at McGlynn's as I raced passed the door. My mom had just called; she was minutes away from my condo with Granddaddy and Uncle Grover in tow, and Granddaddy needed to use the facilities. I knew from previous experiences with Granddaddy and his bladder that any old flower bush would do. I didn't need any more hexes on me from Mrs. Kester, and watering her flower bushes would surely enough do it.

There were two vehicles waiting in front of my condo. My mom's car and Rick's truck. No, not today!

My mom stepped out of her car and held up a hand. "Don't start," she ordered. "Rick offered to hang out with those two—" She indicated Uncle Grover and Granddaddy sitting in the back seat. "—while you perform this evening."

"I'm not sure this is better. Now I have three of them to worry about," I argued.

Rick's window was down. "Hey! I heard that," he called.

I walked up to this truck window and pointed a finger at him. "Good! Because we are not getting back together. And don't give me your 'long view' argument either."

Rick smiled. "I'm just trying to help out since I'm in town anyway, Diana. Besides, I like hanging out with your family."

I looked at him like he was crazy. "Well, if you like my family so much that you want to be a part of it, don't think it's going to be through me. Aunt Pearl and Mammaw are single, go bug them."

I whirled around and stalked off towards the front door. I could hear Rick's laughter behind me. My lips twitched involuntarily at the thought of him wooing Aunt Pearl. I saw Mrs. Kester's curtains flutter and prayed it was just a stray breeze. I didn't need a run-in with her today.

I dug around in my purse for the charm necklace. Sybil had assured me it would protect me from spells and brighten my aura. I slipped the necklace over my head as I reached for the door knob.

"Wait up there, Queenie Baby!" Granddaddy called from behind. "I cain't move as fast as I used to with my bad hip."

I turned around to watch Granddaddy shuffle quickly up the walkway. Amazing, really, considering he had been in the hospital just a few short weeks ago. Maybe jerky really did cure what ails you, as he always insisted.

Beside him, Uncle Grover moved elegantly down the walkway like it was a red carpet. Uncle Grover always reminded me of a black and white movie actor, faded, but polished and precise. Rick and my mom followed with the bags.

Mrs. Kester's door flew open as my foot touched the landing. "You're allowing that man back?" she asked, pointing an accusing finger at Granddaddy.

"He's my grandfather, Mrs. Kester. I can't exactly ban him from my home."
Even if I wanted to
, I silently added.

Granddaddy glared at Mrs. Kester. "Shut yer pie hole, you old bat. You've given my granddaughter enough grief. You'd better watch yer ways, or I'll put a stink eye on you," Granddaddy threatened.

I gave him a push up the stairs.

Mrs. Kester gasped. "You wouldn't dare."

Rick peeked his head around the corner.

"You!" Mrs. Kester cried. She pointed a finger at Rick. "That man was drunk on my doorstep and disturbing the peace."

Rick looked sheepish. "I am sorry about that, ma'am. I was having a bad day."

She seemed to appreciate the apology, or maybe she was enjoying getting attention from a tall, dark, and handsome man.

"I was love sick," he added.

I glared at him.

"Well, I'm sure it was all her fault," Mrs. Kester sniffed, pointing a boney finger at me. Didn't anyone ever teach her it wasn't polite to point?

I sputtered, but before I could respond, Uncle Grover stepped forward. "Madam, we've not been formally introduced. I am Garfield Grover." He offered his hand to Mrs. Kester.

She eyed him suspiciously but took his hand after a moment's hesitation.

"Might I say you have a lovely flowerbed? I wonder—after we're all settled in, of course—if you'd mind giving me a little tour?" Uncle Grover added.

"Well, I suppose I could," Mrs. Kester said, taking her hand slowly back.

"Splendid!" Uncle Grover exclaimed. "I will call on you in an hour."

Mrs. Kester nodded, looking a little dazed, and closed her door.

"What a treasure! Such lovely eyes," Uncle Grover cried.

We all looked at him.

"Are you feeling okay, Uncle Grover?" I asked.

"Never better," he replied as he skipped up the stairs to my condo.

"Love happens when you least expect it," my mom said with a nod of her fluffy blond head.

"Don't start. Either of you." I wagged my finger back and forth.

Sally and Max danced excitedly around the room as we entered, sniffing and licking their way through the guests. Sally ferreted out a piece of jerky inside Granddaddy's shirt pocket, and a brief scuffle ensued. Granddaddy won, but not before they'd knocked over a plant. Rick offered to take the dogs for a walk, and my mom helped get the bags into my bedroom. She gave me a hug, told me not to be too thick-headed, and made a quick getaway.

I tuned the TV to a sports show, handed Granddaddy a beer and Grover a glass of sweet tea, and poured myself a glass of wine.

I needed to get dressed and head out for the Fair. I played my first set at six. I sipped my wine and wondered what was taking Rick so long. Not that I wanted him here, but at least he was helping.

I glanced out the window. Rick was standing on the sidewalk chatting with an attractive red head in tight black pants and an electric red top. His comments about not sitting home alone crossed my mind. I gave an inward shrug. I could care less about who he talked to. Even if the woman did look like a bimbo.

He waved goodbye and headed up the front walk. I made myself busy cleaning up the kitchen and setting out food for the dogs.

Sally bounded in the door first, straining at the leash in her attempt to ambush Granddaddy for jerky. Rick held her back. Max waited patiently for me to unleash him.

"Met a new friend?" I asked as I bent down to take care of Max.

He glanced out the window at the retreating redhead. "Jealous?" he asked with a grin.

I glared up at him. "At that?" I hooked a finger towards the window.

He laughed. "You're jealous."

I made no comment. "Leave her on the leash so she doesn't eat Max's food," I said, as I motioned him into the kitchen.

"Just to put your mind at ease…" he began.

I shot him a look.

"…she was asking about the empty condo downstairs. What the area's like and all that."

The condo on the first floor had been for sale for almost six months. The previous tenant, a sweet old lady, had passed away last year. The family had been trying to sell the unit ever since. I was pretty sure Mrs. Kester put a hex on the unit so no one would buy it. If she had her way, the whole building would be vacant.

"Hmmm…seemed like a pretty long conversation for just checking on the neighborhood."

He smiled and leaned on the counter. "We talked about the Renaissance Fair. She's in town for that. I told her that you're a performer. She seemed really interested," he added, opening my refrigerator and nosing around inside.

Granddaddy looked over. "Got the last beer," he called. "You'd think my granddaughter would've prepared for my visit."

"You don't need to drink beer. It's not good for you," I shot back.

"I'm old enough to drink what I want an' eat what I want. Say there, Rick, got any more of that deer jerky?"

I shook my head as Rick pulled out a plastic bag from his jacket.

"Got to keep the troops happy," he said with a wink.

I handed Rick the bottle of wine and excused myself to get ready. Uncle Grover called out that he hoped I wouldn't be too long as he had some "preparations to make" before his "date."

Granddaddy called him a pansy, and a fight would've broken out if Rick hadn't intervened.

In that moment, I was thankful for Rick. I wasn't happy he was here, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, as my mom always said.