Saturday night, the first thing Paige saw when she pulled into the driveway was the rearranged furniture on the front porch. She started laughing and couldn’t stop. Shell never changed.
She climbed from her car still laughing, eager to find her friend and get to the reason behind this visit. The smell of charcoal wafting through the air caused her to change course and walk toward the backyard.
Rachelle did not exaggerate her ability to grill the best burgers in town. In fact, Rachelle never exaggerated about anything. It was going to be so great to spend time together again. It had been too long.
She remembered the last time she’d smelled those burgers. It had been in Atlanta, the night before everything fell apart.
“Another Sunday night burger feast done right. I may only be able to cook one thing, but I’m pretty good at that if I do say so myself.”
Paige laughed. “Yes, you are.”
The phone rang and Rachelle picked it up. “Hello.”
She held the receiver out to Paige. “For you. It’s Helga.” Rachelle grinned and stuck out her tongue. “Told you so.”
“Hello?”
“Paige, Helga Parker here. I need you to come in a little early tomorrow morning. Can you meet in my office at say, eight o’clock?”
Paige looked at Rachelle, who was practically bouncing up and down. “Sure, I can be there early. What’s this about?”
“Best if we don’t discuss it on the phone. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight.”
“Okay.” Paige had barely set the receiver on the counter before Rachelle had grabbed her by both arms and was dancing around in circles.
“Told you so, told you so. You’re getting that promotion, right?”
Paige planted her feet. “I don’t know, she sounded so . . . serious.”
“Helga always sounds serious. She’s just trying not to give away the surprise. This is so great! Let’s go get some ice cream to celebrate.”
The next morning, Paige rode into work with Rachelle, who continued to chatter with excitement about all that awaited Paige, but somehow the more excited Rachelle got, the more nervous Paige became. Something wasn’t right; she sensed it in Helga’s voice.
They pulled into the employee parking lot; Rachelle turned off the car and looked toward her. “If you get an executive parking sticker, will you tell them you lost the first one and give the second one to me? I’ve always wanted to park on the first level.”
“Really, Shell, knock it off.”
“My, my, aren’t we a little grumpy on promotion day? Boy, I hate to think of what you’ll be like if you ever make director.”
Paige took the elevator to the fifth floor administrative offices, wondering why she wasn’t as convinced. She knew that she’d been recommended for the assistant chief position and that everyone expected her to get the job, but still . . . something about Helga’s voice last night. It just sounded so . . . hard.
Paige opened the door to the outer office and bestowed her brightest smile on the administrative secretary. “Good morning!”
The woman didn’t even look up. “First conference room on the left. They’re waiting.”
Conference room?
They?
Did Sharitz make that big a deal out of a simple promotion? It must be something big because Siena didn’t even trust herself to look at her.
Paige opened the door to the conference room, exerting all her effort to appear calm and professional. Like someone who could be trusted with this new responsibility.
The room was full of people. She had expected only the administrator and perhaps the pharmacy chief. In addition, there was Brian Harper, whom Paige had been dating the last few months, the head nurse, and two other doctors, including Dr. Pilcher, chief of staff.
She looked at Brian and smiled at him. He nodded at her, then looked away.
“You, uh, wanted to see me?”
Helga pointed her toward the empty seat at the end of the long conference table. “Yes, we did.”
Paige noticed that Dr. Pilcher had a medical chart on the table in front of him. He was looking at it, then looked back at her. He leaned forward on the table and laced his fingers together. “Have you heard that one of our patients, Jerry Bartlett, had a serious auto accident last week?”
Paige nodded. Jerry Bartlett was a well-known civic leader in the greater Atlanta area, as well as one of the nicest patients in the entire HMO system. Everyone knew and loved him. “Yes, I heard about that. How is he doing?” This seemed like a strange subject for small talk before a promotion announcement. Paige looked at Brian, but his eyes remained fixed on the chart. She felt her pulse begin to thrum in her ears.
Dr. Pilcher rubbed his forehead, wrinkling the skin on his bald head into shiny little mounds. “Not so well, I’m afraid. And the passengers in the other car have filed a lawsuit.”
“I didn’t think the people in the other car were hurt.” Why were they telling her all this?
“They weren’t. But the mother started talking to a lawyer. Their claim is that she can no longer drive with her child in the car without fear, and it’s causing undue pain and suffering.”
Paige looked around the table. Brian continued to stare at the chart, and Helga sat stone-faced, arms folded across herself. Everyone seemed to be waiting for a response from her. “So, I guess I’m not clear on what that has to do with Sharitz. Are we planning to help Mr. Bartlett defend himself in the lawsuit or something?”
“It appears as though Mr. Bartlett suffered a seizure behind the wheel, and that’s what caused the accident. As for helping him defend himself, he died in our hospital late last night.” He picked up the chart in front of him and set it before Paige. “Do you recognize the initials beside the pharmacy sticker on the last phenobarbital order?”
“They’re mine.”
The rumble of a large motor came from what sounded very close. She turned.
Cory’s white truck was pulling into the driveway; he waved from behind the wheel. What was he up to now?
She walked up beside the truck before he had a chance to get out. If he stayed behind the wheel, it wouldn’t take as long for him to leave. “Cory, what are you doing here?”
“Well, a good evening to you, too.” He climbed out of the cab and shut the door behind him, effectively thwarting Paige’s plan. “I do believe you lived in the big city too long if that’s the way you’re greeting guests. Yep, I think I’m offended. How do you plan to make it up to me?” He grinned and leaned against the truck door.
“Cory, I have comp—”
“I came into town to visit Mom today. She picked some fresh corn for you, to show her appreciation for taking care of all her meds.”
“Well, tell her thanks.” She looked at his empty hands and wondered why he was still standing there waiting. Get the produce out of your truck, hand it to me, and get out of here.
He shifted on his feet. “I was going to bring it by the pharmacy on Monday but decided I’d just bring it by your house, since I’m nearby anyway.” His gaze lingered on the blue VW bug parked in the driveway. Rachelle’s car. “Thought it would be the neighborly thing to do, and I, for one, still want to be neighborly.”
“Well, thanks.” Now that he’d verified there was indeed a friend’s car present, he could leave happy. Paige looked toward his truck, trying to send a not so subtle hint. Time to bring the corn and move on.
He looked toward the house then back at Rachelle’s car, and still he didn’t budge. His clothes were neatly pressed, his hair still damp. Obviously he was ready for a big night on the town. So what was he waiting for?
“You’re here.” Rachelle bounded around the corner of the house in typical fashion, throwing her tiny little frame at Paige with full force. The sparkle of her eyes and the spring in her step seemed to contradict Paige’s assumption that this trip was brought on by heartbreak. “Hey there, tall, blond, and handsome. Glad you made it back so fast.”
Paige looked at Rachelle, thinking surely she’d heard her wrong. “Made it back?”
“Young Mr. Cory stopped by a while ago. It seems he’d brought some corn to leave on your doorstep and just happened upon me unloading my car.”
“Imagine that.” Paige looked between the two of them, unsure of whom she should be more suspicious.
“Being the gracious hostess that I am, I invited him to come partake of some of the riches of the earth he’d so kindly bestowed— provided, of course, he make a quick trip to the store to get me some Tabasco. What’s up with the lack of hot sauce around here?”
Oh no. She wouldn’t. “Partake how?”
“Cory’s having dinner with us.” Rachelle smiled, but the hard set of her eyes told Paige something else was going on.
Paige opened her eyes wider at Shell, hoping she’d get the message to back off. “Cory probably has other plans for the evening.”
Cory reached into his shirt pocket and produced a small bottle of Tabasco, which he handed to Rachelle with a smug smile on his face. “None at all. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
Rachelle smiled. “Of course we don’t.” She turned a serious expression on Paige. “Burgers are on the grill, go change out of your work clothes. Cory and I have some talking to do.”
Cory smiled down at her. “I’m glad to know there are some big-city girls that still have that sense of southern hospitality that seems to be lacking in so many people these days.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at Paige. Without another word, Rachelle took Cory by the arm and led him toward the backyard.
Paige watched them walk off together, totally frustrated by the turn of events. She wanted to talk to Rachelle, alone, find out what was going on. In all the time she’d known her, Paige had never known Shell to do something this air-headed. In fact, she’d never known Shell to be anything but deliberate in everything she did. There must be some reason for all this.
A few minutes later she was back outside in shorts and a polo with an icy smoothie in her hand. Paige took a small sip. As far as Rachelle’s health drinks went, this one was not all that bad.
“Pretty good.”
“Delicious, you mean. Right, Cory?”
“Delicious.” Cory set his nearly full glass on the ground beside his chair and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “So, Rachelle, do you think you could mix up one of your special potions that would make your friend go out with me? She keeps giving me the runaround, and it’s starting to hurt my pride.”
“We’ll just have to see what we can do about that, now won’t we?” Rachelle cocked her head sideways and grinned at Paige. “But before that, you’ll have to meet my grueling approval process, which means for the rest of the evening, you’ll be quizzed unmercifully. Let’s start with . . . say . . . your life history. Have you ever lived in Nashville?”
Again, Rachelle had put on the light and friendly façade, but Paige knew better. She was digging for something.
The evening went well, though Rachelle never once hinted that something might be amiss. She just kept Paige and Cory laughing with her exploits in Atlanta. Cory flirted and grinned but Rachelle did a good job of keeping him off-balance during the night, and Paige thought he even looked relieved when it was time for him to leave. Paige and Rachelle waved from the front porch, and as Cory drove away in his truck, Paige turned to her friend. “Now, would you mind telling me what that was all about?”
“What, you didn’t like the burgers?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. I’m talking about Cory.”
“Oh, him. He’s cute. Seems nice. He obviously likes you, and you at least seem to have fun when he’s around—although I am picking up a weird little vibe of resistance on your part.”
“If I told you that corn won’t be harvested here for another couple of months at least, would you begin to get the picture?”
“Do what? Where’d he get the corn, then?”
“I’d guess the grocery store, imported from wherever it is they import from this time of year.”
“No wonder it didn’t taste that great.” Shell looked at the street, in the direction Cory had gone, and shook her head. “I must be going soft. After all that questioning I did, he had me totally convinced he was on the up and up. Now I’ll have to rethink everything.”
“Rachelle, what’s going on? Something’s wrong, and it’s time you tell me what it is.”
Rachelle’s face grew serious. “Let’s go sit inside.”
They went to sit in the tiny living room. Paige perched on her father’s old recliner; Rachelle flopped on the sofa—for about three seconds. She popped up and dragged the couch sideways about six inches, then centered the old storage locker that served as a coffee table in front of it. The side table was adjusted accordingly, and she sat down and nodded. “Better. Don’t you think?”
It was better. Much better, in fact. “You didn’t come all the way here to rearrange my mother’s furniture. Now, let’s hear it. Did something happen with Mr. Centerfielder?”
“He’s a man. A man is a man.” Rachelle twisted a lock of her short hair around her index finger. “Actually, I didn’t come to talk about what’s up with me. I came to talk about what’s up with you.”
“What do you mean? I’m doing just fine.”
“Yes, you are doing fine. But there might be other people who aren’t so fine.”
“Honestly, Rachelle, you can be so frustrating at times. What other people?”
“Last week Brian came to talk to me. It seems a strange little man showed up at Sharitz, asking questions. General at first, then slowly narrowing down to you. He’s been talking to the bosses and everything.”
Oh no. Please God, no. “Something about Mr. Bartlett?”
“That was my first thought. So I called David Brown, you know, that lawyer I went out with a few times? And he sent his investigator to investigate the investigator.”
Paige couldn’t help but laugh. “Rachelle, your former paramours sure do come in handy sometimes.”
“Don’t I know it?” She began to twist her hair again. “Anyway, it seems the guy who’s been checking you out is an investigator from Tennessee. Nashville, to be exact. That’s why I kept asking Cory questions about Nashville. When he showed up this afternoon, I figured he was a likely candidate to be mixed up in the middle of this somehow. He claims he’s never lived there, but then again, he claims his mother picked corn, so I don’t know what to think.”
“Nashville?” Paige stared at the pale pink flowers of her mother’s throw rug. Who in Nashville would want her investigated? There could be only one possible answer, but that didn’t answer the biggest question: Why?
“He’s still trying to figure out exactly who hired the guy, but I guess that piece of information is a bit harder to get. The old man who got you your new job, he lives in Nashville, right?”
“Yeah, and so does his granddaughter—my boss.”
Rachelle flopped back onto the couch, put her left hand behind her head on the armrest, and stretched her legs across its length. “Can you think of a reason that either of them would do this?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Paige stared at the ceiling, straining to think it all through. “Clarissa is pretty hard to read sometimes, but there’s definitely some friction where I’m concerned, and has been from day one. I can’t imagine what would make her investigate me—or what might happen if she gets too close to the truth.”
“You just need to keep both eyes open. I’ll let you know when I find out anything else.”
Paige felt the walls of security that had just begun to rebuild around her start to crumble. She made an exaggerated stretch. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll turn in.”
Rachelle nodded, but the expression on her face said she knew better. Paige needed some time alone to process, and Rachelle would understand this. “See you in the morning.”
Both women stood and walked down the long hall; Paige turned right to her bedroom, and Rachelle went left to the guest room. The floors squeaked with every step, a noisy reminder that this place had seen more than its share of life, trouble, and heartache. Would it ever again see happiness?
Long after she climbed into bed, Paige lay staring at the ceiling. Even in the dark, she could make out the shadowed areas caused by the warped plaster. The air-conditioner hummed from the other room, fighting against the heat and humidity. But all it really did was cover the truth. In this one little building, they could pretend it wasn’t miserably hot and humid. Ignore what was just outside the window.
Just like the “new life” she was starting. The old one wasn’t gone; it was just covered up. All it took was one little flick of the switch, a sudden loss of electricity, and the truth of the situation would once again be obvious. Hot was always hot, warped was always warped.
She felt the pain of loss all over again. She tried to pray, but mostly it came out as, “Why, God? Why?”