Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3) 0

“What’s his name?” Chrissie pressed.

“Troy Nance.”

“Sharon Nance’s son?”

“Yes.” Of course. Sharon hadn’t been married, so she and her son had the same last name. Although hers might be something different now…. Vivian shook her head; she couldn’t even imagine who the boy’s father had been. Whoever he was, he certainly hadn’t stayed in the picture long.

“I haven’t seen Sharon in years.”

Not that Susannah was likely to cross paths with the other woman. The last Vivian had heard, Sharon was working at the Roadside Inn on the outskirts of town. She was the kind of woman George often saw in his courtroom—the kind of woman he described as trouble looking for a place to happen.

“He’s cute,” Chrissie murmured.

Susannah’s eyes flew to Vivian’s and this time the two of them traded a look. Vivian knew what that look meant, too.

It said Chrissie wasn’t as levelheaded as Vivian had assumed and Susannah was well aware of it.

CHAPTER 15

When Susannah took her mother back to Altamira, she could see that Vivian was exhausted. Still wearing her sweater, Vivian sat in front of the television and automatically put her feet up. Within minutes, she was sound asleep and snoring softly.

Susannah and Chrissie quietly left the room after securing her mother’s purse with the jewelry in the bottom dresser drawer. As soon as they were out in the parking lot, Chrissie turned to her and said, “Grandma hardly looks the same anymore.”

“I know. She’s gone downhill so fast it’s frightening.” The difference was noticeable even to Chrissie, who tended to be self-absorbed, as were most girls her age.

“What do you want to do now?” Chrissie asked as Susannah unlocked the car door. Chrissie couldn’t bear not to have something planned—usually something social. But she seemed genuinely willing to help. With Chrissie there, Susannah hoped to finish packing up her parents’ house more quickly than she’d expected, but the girl would probably wear her out, too.

“I need you to help me finish loading everything up and into the storage unit,” Susannah explained. Cleaning out each room was a tedious and heartbreaking process.

“I suppose that would be all right.” Chrissie didn’t sound enthusiastic and Susannah didn’t blame her.

They went to Safeway, where the manager had set aside half a dozen cardboard cartons. Collecting boxes had become part of Susannah’s daily routine. Her favorites were the reinforced ones used for fruit. Twice a day, Susannah would take whatever had been boxed up to the storage unit. The boxes were labeled and would wait there, neatly stacked, until she decided what to do with them. When that would be, she didn’t know. She’d merely deferred many of these decisions. She still had to figure out what she should keep, what should go to the kids, what could be donated to charity. Susannah was afraid she might discard something she would later regret.

When they pulled up in front of the house, she noticed a smartly dressed woman sitting in a car across the street. When they climbed out of the Crown Victoria and opened the trunk to remove boxes, the same woman emerged from her car.

“Hello,” the tall brunette said with a warm smile as she crossed the street. “I’m Melody Highland.” She peeled a business card out of a small gold case and thrust it at Susannah. “I work with the Colville Real Estate Company. I understand you’re going to be putting your mother’s house on the market soon.”

Listing it now would be premature; Susannah realized she wasn’t quite ready to take that final step. She accepted the card and was about to tell the real estate agent that, but before she could say a word, Melody continued.

“Colville Real Estate has an impeccable reputation in the community. I’ve been with the firm eight years and I’m their top salesperson.”

“Congratulations.” Susannah couldn’t think of any other response.

“I have several clients who’d be interested in a home such as this in a well-established neighborhood.”

Susannah stared at the card. Curious, she looked up and asked, “How did you get my name?”

Melody smiled. “Colville is a small town. Word gets around.”

“Was it Mrs. Henderson?”

Melody hesitated and her cheery facade disappeared. “Actually,” she said with reluctance, “I heard about you through the storage unit place. They sometimes give me tips on possible listings.”

That explained it, and Susannah was more than a little offended by this cozy sharing of private information. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not ready to list the house.”

“Perhaps I could be of service in some way?”

“Thank you, but no.” Susannah wasn’t going to let this woman push her into acting before the time was right.

“Do keep my card. I know we can get top dollar for your parents’ home.”

Susannah nodded, slipping the business card into her pocket. “Thank you for stopping by, but we really need to get back to work now.”

“No, I should be the one thanking you,” Melody Highland said smoothly. “I look forward to doing business with you in the near future.”

Susannah and Chrissie started toward the house.

“Can I check with you in a week or two?” Melody called just as Susannah reached the front steps.

“I’d prefer to contact you when I’m ready.”

“No problem,” Melody said and marched back across the street to her car.

Susannah waited until she’d driven off, then set down two of the boxes. “My goodness. She was eager, wasn’t she?”

“I guess,” Chrissie muttered, seemingly amused. “I’ll bet she’s already got clients lined up to look at the house. I can imagine how those potential buyers would react if they saw the place now.”

They walked into the house and Susannah had the feeling she’d made a lucky escape. She wondered how many other real estate agents she’d have to fend off before this ordeal was over.

“Where would you like me to begin?” Chrissie asked, standing just inside the living room. Hands on hips, she surveyed the area. Five days after moving her mother out, Susannah had made only a small dent in what needed to be done.

“What about the bookcase in the living room?” she suggested. When she had time, Susannah wanted to go carefully through all the titles. Her father had been an avid reader and there might be some first editions in his collection. Those books would be something to hand down to Brian one day.

“Okay.” Chrissie grabbed a box. “I’ll start there.”

Many of her mother’s personal things had been taken to her new apartment, but her father’s office remained untouched. Until now, Susannah had avoided it, but she couldn’t put it off forever.

Knowing her dad, he’d kept meticulous records. She’d have to sort through every file and drawer. Maybe she should wait until she was better able to deal with it emotionally. No—this couldn’t wait. She pulled out a stack of files and had just started to go through one of them when Chrissie called her.

“Mom!” she shouted. “Come here quick.”

Susannah hurried out to the living room. “What is it?”

“Look!” Chrissie cried, brandishing a fifty-dollar bill. “It fell out of this book when I took it down from the shelf.” She held up a history of the Second World War.

“Good grief.” Susannah realized there might be more money stashed in other books.

Chrissie reached for a second volume. Holding the book upside down, she splayed it open and two more bills fell onto the carpet. “Twenty-dollar bills,” Chrissie said. “These books are full of money.”

Susannah groaned. She didn’t know who had placed the bills there. It could’ve been either her mother or her father—perhaps both of them. Recently her mother had grown so distrusting of everyone that she’d started hiding things all over the house.

“Be sure and check inside each book,” Susannah said. This was going to slow them down even more. “Maybe I should help.” Having to examine each volume individually would be time-consuming.

“This is like a treasure hunt,” Chrissie said excitedly, taking down a copy of Gone With the Wind.

Before Susannah could respond, the doorbell rang. She wove her way through the cartons littering the room. If it was another real estate salesperson, she wouldn’t be nearly as polite as she’d been the first time.

She opened the door to a woman in her late sixties, possibly early seventies. “Hello, Susannah,” she said pleasantly as if she expected Susannah to recognize her immediately.

Susanna didn’t know this woman from Eve.

“I’m Eve Sutter.”

Eve? God does have a sense of humor, she thought with a glimmer of amusement. “I’m sorry, should I know you?”

“I’m sure your mother’s mentioned my name. We’re dear, dear friends.”

Susannah couldn’t remember her mother ever mentioning anyone named Eve. Not wanting to be rude, she held open the screen door so the other woman could come inside.

“I heard you’d moved Vivian over to Altamira,” Eve said as she stepped into the house. “It’s a lovely facility, isn’t it?”

Susannah nodded. She didn’t have time to waste with social chitchat. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, I came to help you,” Eve said, sounding surprised, again as if Susannah should intuitively know the reason for her visit. “I understand how difficult it is to pack up an entire life. I’m here to offer my assistance.”

“That’s very thoughtful, but…” Susannah was about to explain that she didn’t require this woman’s assistance; however, she wasn’t allowed to finish.

“I’m sure there’s far more here than your mother wants or needs.” Eve scanned the room, leaning to one side as she glanced down the long hallway that led to the bedrooms. “There are a number of things I’d be willing to take off your hands. We wear the same size, I believe.”

“Ah…”

“With so much to do, you must be looking for helping hands and here I am. Now, where should I start?” Eve pushed up her sleeves in anticipation.

“My daughter and I have everything under control, but thank you.” Susannah walked over to the door and pointedly held it open.

Eve’s head reared back as though she’d been insulted. “Of course. Well, I’ll stop by later with a bucket of chicken and—”

“We already have dinner plans.” Susannah opened the screen door, feeling less and less civil. If this so-called friend of her mother’s was a friend indeed, Susannah distrusted her.

Eve nodded, smiled sweetly and walked out the door. Susannah closed it with a decisive bang.

“Can you believe that woman?” she yelped, her voice rising in outrage.

“Mom…”

“It’s like the vultures have started circling overhead. First, that real estate woman and now Eve, my mother’s dear friend,” she said sarcastically. “Whom I never heard Mom mention even once.”