Little Miss Lovesick (11 page)

I took a deep breath. Don’t cry. You can’t buy this house, but you do have to sell it so you can buy one someday. And if you’re really lucky, maybe you won’t have to live in it alone.

I looked at my clients. They both had a dreamy look in their eyes, and now Todd’s hand cradled his unborn child, too.

“Since this particular home”—always us
e
hom
e
, no
t
hous
e
—“is not in need of any major repairs, you can think about what you’d like to change when you feel like it. No pressure.”

I opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the patio. “Depending on your personal tastes, you could put in a larger window here,” I pointed to a kitchen window, “with a ledge. If you planned to do a lot of outdoor entertaining, it would be much more convenient.”

I walked toward the master bedroom and pointed. “This wall could come out and you could put in French doors. If you saw Junior racing to climb that tree, you wouldn’t have to run through the house to get outside.”

They looked at the three trees in the backyard and nodded. It would be easy to see how a rambunctious child would need to be watched.

“For your adult entertainment,” I grinned and winked, “you could put a hot tub right here. From bedroom to hot tub and back with no neighbors the wiser.” I indicated the rooftops on all sides of the fenced back yard. “Since all the houses here are single-story, you’d have all the privacy you’d want.”

Todd grinned and kissed Rosie. He whispered something and she giggled.

That was a very good sign. “Why don’t I wait out in the front yard? You two wander around and see what you think. Take as much time as you like.”

“Thanks,” Todd said before turning back to his glowing, pregnant wife.

I walked back through the house to the front porch. I’m not that interested in babies, but I think that could change with the right man. The Slocum’s lives seemed perfect. Love, house, baby.

I sat down on the front steps and sighed. It was all Dirk’s fault. Four years I wasted on him. All the while thinking I was only moments away from that wonderful time that precedes happily ever after — engagement. Then to be dumped over the lobster bisque on Valentine’s Day. Humiliating.

Todd and Rosie came out to the front porch, beaming. I have no doubt they were practicing their kissing technique in one of the rooms.

“We’d like to make an offer,” Todd announced.

“Great, let’s do it.”

It wouldn’t do to sound too grateful.

By the time I finished the Slocum’s paperwork, it was time to go home. I stopped at Meijer's for a few groceries and rented a movie at Redbox. A chick flick, of course.

I called Em’s cell phone while I was driving. No answer. Voice mail again.

“Emily,” I half-whined, half-laughed into the phone. “There’s something wrong with your cell phone. It keeps going to voice mail. Call me if you get this message. Bye!”

As I pulled into my apartment complex, I looked around for a red BMW. All clear.

I hurried up the stairs to my second-story apartment and locked the door behind me. Whew. Safe. Even if he came over later, I simply wouldn’t open my door.

Now, what to have for dinner as I watch my movie? It was one with Kate Hudson that I hadn’t seen yet. I love Kate Hudson. I want to be Kate Hudson. Well, maybe just have her life. Okay, what I want is the life of one of her characters. Maybe Andie i
n
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Day
s
. She’s sweet and pretty and loyal and intelligent and street smart and…

I sighed. I can’t imagine myself being nearly as cool as Andie.

I put my Godiva chocolate raspberry truffle ice cream in the freezer and pulled out a Healthy Choice frozen dinner. Don’t laugh. The calories saved in the diet food mean a few more spoonfuls of ice cream.

I picked up my home phone while the microwave hummed and called Em’s home number.

Voice mail. Darn it!

“Em, you’ve got to call me as soon as you get this message. It’s 911. I swear. I’ll tell you one tiny bit if it will make you call me back sooner. Two words. Dirk Schneider. Call me!”

Stupid voice mail. Why doesn’t she have an answering machine? I know, they’re so twentieth century. But you can screen calls. Even with Caller ID, if the number doesn’t show up, you still don’t know who it is. Em’s folks live out of state and their number shows up as “unknown” or something. Trust me, an answering machine is much better.

Halfway through the movie, my cell phone rang. Em’s name appeared on the display.

I hit Stop on the DVD player and Talk on the phone. “Where have you been?!”

“Out. What’s going on with Dirk?”

I leaned my head back on the couch and laughed. No humor involved. “Emily! I can’t tell if my life is getting really great, or worse by the second.”

“Tell me, tell me!”

I sighed. “The Jerk came to my office today.”

“Noo!” Emily breathed.

“You’re never going to believe this. He actually said he was sorry and he wants to get back together.”

“Screw that! No, Sydney! You are not getting back together with that sleaze ball.”

“You don’t have to convince me!” I punched one of the pillows on the couch.

“So what’d you do?”

“I told him to leave or I’d call the police.”

“And?”

“He left.”

“Just like that?” Emily sounded skeptical.

“Well, after he left I turned around and saw Perry standing behind me. He looked like he was going to throw Dirk out the door. O
r
throug
h
the door.”

“Yeah! Go Perry! So now what?”

“I have no idea.” I frowned and cuddled down into the couch cushions. “Emily, today’s the fourteenth. Do you think he did that on purpose?”

She was quiet for a minute, considering. “Honestly, Syd, I doubt he knows what he’s put you through. I’m sure he’s clueless. A
n
asshol
e
, but a clueless one.”

I felt tears pushing to escape. Deep breath. “He said he’d meet me after work today to talk about it. But
,
thankfull
y
, I got out of there before he came back. If he came back.”

“Think he’ll come over?”

“Probably. I checked the parking lot for his car when I pulled in, then locked the door behind me. If he knocks, I just won’t answer.”

We both knew this wa
s
no
t
a long-term solution.

We hung up and I un-muted the TV. Matthew Broderick was singing in a remake o
f
The Music Ma
n
.

“Yes, we’ve got trouble! Right here in River City!”

I hit Play on the DVD remote.

Boy, I sure hope not.

CHAPTER 12

TUESDAY dawned gray and damp. It had rained overnight and it looked like it would again.

Gee, weather that matched my mood. That’s…great. I hadn’t slept well, what with the great dreams of kissing Matt that turned into nightmares of being forced to marry Dirk.

In a fit of moodiness, I pulled on my gray knit slacks and a gray v-neck knit shirt. I found my old tennis shoes in the back of the closet, definitely more gray than white. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled in spite of myself. I looked like a black and white photo. One where they color in only one thing, in this case my hair.

I grabbed a Balance bar from the kitchen and, at the last moment, an individual size chocolate milk instead of a bottle of juice. Breakfast I could eat in the car.

“Well, lookey here, Matt,” GT said as I walked in his kitchen door. "It’s a beautiful little rain cloud come down from the sky."

Oka-ay. Sweet in a weird kind of way.

I smiled at them both and wished them a good morning.

“I’ll be right with ya, darlin’. Just give me one more minute.” GT looked back at the papers in his hand.

“Morning,” Matt said with a smile, then went back to his work. More papers and blueprints it looked like.

Fine. Work was work. Great. Terrific. We don’t know each other. Fine.

GT finished reading and left the room with a “Be right back.”

Two seconds later, I heard “Psst!” behind me. I turned to see Matt looking apprehensively at the doorway to the living room. I watched with curiosity. What was he doing?

“Hey,” he whispered. “Do you have dinner plans?” He was looking at me now, but I wasn’t so sure he was talking to me. I looked around the kitchen.

“Who are you talking to?” I asked.

He screwed up his face into a look I think I was to interpret as “Quiet down, you fool!”

I whispered, “What are you doing?” I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

Okay, now that was definitely a look of exasperation. I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it, so I just put my hand over my mouth.

“What?
”
I whispered.

“I like to keep my business life and personal life separate, that’s all. And GT’s been grilling me about you.”

“Oh.” I paused. “Am I part of your business life or your personal life?”

He blew out his breath in a way that sounded like “Stupid idea.” Then he whispered, “Forget it,” and went back to his paperwork.

I took a step closer, still whispering. “Well, how am I supposed to know? We’re both standing in this kitchen on business you know.”

He looked up impatiently. “Did we talk about business on Saturday? Over breakfast? A decidedly personal event?”

I could matc
h
tha
t
tone. “No, but you didn’t ask me about dinne
r
the
n
. You asked m
e
no
w
. And in my line of work, dinner is part of business.”

He sighed, then glanced toward the doorway when he heard footsteps. “We’ll finish this later.”

GT came into the kitchen. “Ready?”

Not really. But I wasn’t going to embarrass Matt — or myself — by trying to continue our conversation. I wasn’t sure what Matt was trying to ask, and I had absolutely no idea why he was so grumpy about it. Professional smile in place, I said “Sure” and led the way to my car. I didn’t give Matt a backward glance.

As I drove, GT told me more about the renovations, his new wife, and what he needed for his mother-in-law.

“It’s very generous of you,” I said, pulling up next to a house he might like a few miles down Peninsula Drive from his "cottage."

He patted my knee and chuckled. “It’s not generosity. Time is money. The closer Yolanda is, the less time I have to spend driving to find my wife.” He stared out the window at the house, but made no move to get out of the car. “I like to have Merci with me, but she likes to be with her mother when I’m working.”

I motioned to the single-story ranch house. “What do you think?”

“Let’s see the next one.” He kept looking for a moment as we drove away, checking out the side yard, and what could be seen of the back yard.

It was a nice house, but I remembered GT had a habit of not even walking inside if he didn’t like the outside. The praise he’d given me about being a visionary was well earned. Without that particular skill, I’m sure he’d never have bought a house from me.

He pointed to another place as we passed, one without a “For Sale” sign. His other hand rested on my shoulder. “That’s more along the lines of what I’m looking for.”

I nodded. “All right, well, the next one might not work for you. It sits fairly close to the street.”

What wasn’t working fo
r
m
e
was his hand on my shoulder right now. And on my knee earlier. Why, oh why, did I put up with this?

Chill, he doesn’t mean anythin
g
, said a Voice.

We barely pulled to the curb in front of the next property before GT urged me to drive on. But at the third house, we actually got out and looked around. GT put his hand under my elbow and guided me around a soggy spot in the yard. He held on until we were on the sidewalk — and still showed no signs of letting go. So I pointed out the lovely front door — stretching my arm all the way out and forcing him to let his hand fall.

Boy, it would be a long summer if he kept this up.

Since the house was empty, we peered in several of the windows. GT shrugged. I took that as a good sign, all things considered. Don’t get me wrong, it’
s
wa
y
better to have a client who knows what he wants and can’t find it, than one who looks at everything and can’t decide. And GT seemed to be quite certain about his needs.

Since he had a lunch meeting at his home office, we drove past one more house and headed back. Not a bad first effort, all things considered.

“Let’s try this again in a few days,” he said. “I’ll talk to Yolanda about some of your suggestions and get back to you.”

“Great. Meanwhile, I’ll keep looking.” You bet I’d keep looking. Property on Old Mission Peninsula is rarely under the quarter mil mark. The words “commission” and “House Fund” flashed in neon in my mind’s eye.

I pulled into the driveway and drove all the way up to the back door. “You’ve got my numbers. Call if you need anything.”

GT took my hand and held it again, rather than shook it. “You hang in there, darlin’. You’ll find the right one. That last one must be no good to leave you like that. Your time is comin’. Mark my words.”

At first, I thought he was talking about the house hunt. Mortified, I realized this man was talking about m
y
lov
e
life. Will this humiliation have no end?

As GT walked to the back door, I couldn’t help myself — I looked around for Matt. He sure was in a snit this morning. But I’d like to clear the air. I saw him talking with another guy in a hard hat. They both pointed at the papers in Matt’s hand.

Should I do anything? Walk up to him and try to talk? I could go ask him for his business card. For referrals. Yeah, that’s a good one. I could actually pull that one off.

As I sat there trying to decide, Matt looked up and saw me. I stared back, unsure now. When I was about to smile, he turned back to his papers as if I wasn’t even there.

Fine! I put the car into reverse and backed down the driveway and onto the road. I was proud of myself. I didn’t kick up any mud or squeal my tires or anything.

I GROWLED in frustration. This was all Dirk’s fault. I was never unsure of myself or other people until Dirk. The Jerk!

I pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru on my way back to the office. A chicken sandwich and French fries would go a long way toward cheering me up today. Parking in the office lot, I heard thunder and grabbed my stuff as quickly as I could. As I opened the car door, I felt the first drops of rain. I sprinted.

Apparently rain, like bears, will only chase you if you run. By the time I got to the front door, I was drenched. When was the last time the sky opened up like that? Michigan rain usually starts out gently, gives you a head start. Trying to get in quickly, my wet hand slipped on the door and I almost dropped my jacket. Hastily, I fumbled to catch it and knocked my wet McDonald’s bag against the closing door. The soggy paper gave way and my lunch fell.

Into a puddle. Outside the door. Almost. The chicken sandwich kind of wedged the door open. I looked at my saved jacket, which wasn’t in a mud puddle, then back at my lunch — which was.

I closed my eyes tightly. Inside my head I yelled, Shhiiiitttttt! I was at the office. A place of business. Where you have to act like a professional. Where all the yelling had to stay bottled up.

“Oh no.” I heard Carmen approach. “Let me help you.” She took the items still precariously balanced in my arms and put them on a chair. I set the rest of it down, then opened the door to clean up my mess. Carmen brought some napkins — undoubtedly fro
m
he
r
lunch, fresh, dry, and already eaten — and I finished picking the last of the fries out of the water.

I threw it all in the trash by Carmen’s desk, then grimaced at my spectacularly wet self. A ridiculous thought came to my mind.

“Hey, got a scale? We can find out how much I weigh soaking wet.”

Carmen burst out laughing and I let myself chuckle a little. Well, it made me feel better for a minute anyway. Still hungry, but better.

I took my things back to my desk and sat there trying to keep my wet hair from dripping onto my laptop keyboard or the papers on my desk.

“Hey, I’ve got a turkey sub. Wanna share?” Trent stood in front of my desk, Subway bag in hand. A plastic, waterproof bag, by the way.

“Thanks, I’m fine.”

“My eyes are bigger than my stomach. Got a foot-long, but I won’t be able to eat it all.” He looked down at his stomach and chuckled. “Well,
I
ca
n
eat it all, but I shouldn’t.”

I looked at him warily. “You see that?”

He was trying not to laugh. “I don’t think you meant it to be a spectator sport, but…I was only a few steps ahead of you… Yeah, I saw it.”

He was grinning now. It was a cute grin. And he was being so nice…what could it hurt?

“You’re only gonna get hungrier.”

“Well, if it’ll help you keep your boyish figure,” I said with a smile.

He cocked his head over to his desk and I joined him. We talked while we ate, making each other laugh or grimace with our shop talk tales of crazy clients. Very relaxing after my crazy morning.

When we were almost done, a delivery person came in asking for me. She gave me a vase of tulips and irises and a wrapped box. A gold-wrapped box. Godiva chocolate. I know because Godiva chocolate is my all-time favorite and, well, I hate to admit it, but I buy rather a lot of it.

I looked at Trent. He shrugged. “Beats me.” I opened the card
.
All her favorites for my favorite girl, Love, Dirk.

I sighed dramatically. “Why me?” I pretend cried.

“What’s wrong?” I handed Trent the card. “Ah,” he said as he read it. He put it on the desk and patted my back.

I folded one arm on his desk and beat my head on it. How could one woman have so many man problems? It’s against all odds.

Maybe you should go buy a lottery ticke
t
, suggested a Voice.

Don’t! You’ll get struck by lightnin
g
, warned Another.

I rubbed my finger on some of the flower petals. So soft. It’s not their fault they were paid for by Dirk. I sniffed them. Hothouse flowers never seem to have much scent, but they’re still beautiful.

I picked up the box of chocolates. What purpose would it serve to throw them in the trash if Dirk wasn’t here to see it?

He’ll know you ate them, and that’ll be his victory.