Heather Webber - Digging Up Trouble

I sighed, patted Tam’s tummy, and turned to go. I hesitated as I walked to the door, feeling slightly guilty that I hadn’t even checked on Brickhouse.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I pulled back the curtain around the bed. No need for the guilt.

The bed was empty; Brickhouse was gone.

Monday morning. I popped open a sleep-filled eye, looked at the clock. Six-thirty.

Time to get up.

Instead I dragged my new down comforter over my head.

Monday mornings were supposed to be filled with promise. Of hope that the week ahead would be a good one.

Pipes rattled as Riley flushed the toilet.

I thought it a good harbinger of what my week ahead would be like.

Harbinger.

Heh. Mrs. Krauss would be proud.

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I groaned, thinking of Brickhouse. I’d checked with the nurses’ station—she’d been discharged. Which meant she was on the loose and could show up anywhere. Anytime.

I shuddered, dragged the covers off my head. “Eeeee!” I screamed when I saw a face looming over me.

“Sorry!” Riley said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Your door was open.”

I’d taken to leaving it open since Kevin moved out. I didn’t know why and didn’t want to pay for the therapy that would tell me.

“Can you drive me to work?”

“This early?” I asked. “Growl doesn’t open till eleven.

What time are you due in?”

“Ten-thirty.”

I blinked at the clock, wondering if I’d read it wrong the first time: 6:36.

Riley saw me looking. “Uncle Bill gave me a key to get in on the mornings I opened.”

“A key to a fifteen-year-old?”

“Almost sixteen. And it’s for his nephew . Jeez. Do you think I’m going to rob the place? I figure I’d just hang out until Bill gets there, maybe do some cleaning. Stocking. Whatever. I’d leave at ten except I can’t skateboard yet,” he said, holding up his still-splinted hand, “and Dad’s at work . . .”

“I can drive you,” I said, tossing covers. “But how about you come to TBS with me until ten?” I didn’t want to mention that I was worried about him being alone at Growl until Bill showed up. “You can answer phones.”

“Do I get paid?”

I growled. “Yes.” I thought about what I paid Tam, then subtracted . . . a lot. “Six bucks an hour.”

“What? That’s barely minimum wage.”

“Take it or leave it.”

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“Take it.”

I smiled and headed for my bathroom before I realized I didn’t have a bathroom. The demo crew was due at nine.

My mother was due at eight. I needed to be out of there before then.

I grabbed my robe. “Did you leave me any hot water?”

“First come, first serve,” he said, walking out the door.

Harbingers, indeed.

Seventeen

The chimes sang as I pulled open the TBS

door, Riley right on my heels. I stopped short at the sight greeting me, and Riley barreled into me, knocking me to the floor.

Brickhouse clucked. “You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?”

I looked up at Riley, who gave me an it-wasn’t-my-fault shrug. He did offer me a hand up, though.

I’d take what I could get. “What are you doing here?” I asked Brickhouse.

“Working.”

“Working?”

“Miss Tamara hired me. And by the looks of it, none too soon. This place has gone to heck in a handbasket.”

Heck. In a handbasket.

I wanted to tell her where she could go in a handbasket.

It wasn’t heck.

“Great,” Riley said. “What am I going to do now?”

Mrs. Krauss clucked. “I can use a capable assistant, young man. I think you’re just what I need. And my, don’t you look snazzy?”

Snazzy. Hmmph. I didn’t think that was a vocabulary word I ever learned in her English class.

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“Uniform. I’ve got to work later.”

“At Growl, right?”

“You’ve been there?”

“Ach, no. I cannot take such organic food. I get gas.”

Way too much information.

“They have medicine for that, you know,” Riley said.

I left the two of them to their conversation. It was just past eight. Unfortunately I’d given everyone the day off, so now I’d be alone with Brickhouse.

All day.

I wondered which one of us would survive it.

I wished Kit were coming in. Or Coby. Or Marty. Or anyone. I’d even take Harry von Barber at this point.

With a mini coming up on Wednesday, tomorrow would be filled with meetings, checklists, and confirmation phone calls.

As I sat at my desk, signed onto my server, I couldn’t help but think again about cutting back. As it was right now, TBS

usually worked two full makeovers and two to three minis a week. It was a lot of work. A lot of hours. Especially during the summer. I didn’t want to get burned out. And I wanted my crew to have a life.

Should I stay or should I go?

And possibly me too.

I needed to sit down soon to crunch numbers. Decide which direction to take TBS.

I had meetings booked solid from one till four. At five I had to go meet with Derrick Brandt at his nursery. I had several orders placed, and I wanted to make sure he’d gotten all the materials I needed.

I tapped my pen on my ink-stained blotter and wondered how Tam was doing. Instead of just sitting there thinking about her, I picked up the phone and dialed the hospital. I punched in her room number. No one answered.

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Could be she was in the bathroom. Or having tests done.

But I doubted it. She’d sent Brickhouse to work for me.

Knowing how I felt about her.

Tam would be avoiding me like the—

I stopped myself in the nick of time.

Brickhouse’s laughter carried through my closed door, grated my nerves.

It was a good thing Tam wasn’t around.

I spent some time going through my e-mails, writing some checks. A large one to Stanley Mack. It hurt to write it, but he was worth every cent. His invoice for the Grabinsky job was probably in the mail.

The Lockharts had thankfully paid me up front, in full. But that didn’t change the fact that the job hadn’t been done yet.

I buzzed Brickhouse through the intercom. “Have there been any messages from Greta Grabinsky?”

“Oh, the woman suing you?”

“You’re getting sued?” Riley asked, his voice an octave higher than normal.

Brickhouse clucked. “You didn’t know?”

Riley clucked too. God, it was contagious. “No!”

“Hello!” I said. “Messages?”

“You really should share your troubles with your family.”

Great. Now a lecture.

“Yeah,” Riley piped in.

My jaw clenched. If Brickhouse continued working for me I was going to need to get one of those retainers people wear for TMJ. “Messages?”

“No.”

I stabbed the intercom button.

I wondered if Russ’s autopsy had been done yet. It was horrible that I hoped the M.E. would find something. Anything that would exonerate me.

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There were plenty of people who hated the man, wanted him dead.

Whoever Russ was blackmailing, for one.

Bill was high on that list too.

His employees hated him.

Noreen hated him.

Even Greta had motive if it was true about her horrible marriage.

Yet the prosecutor wanted to file charges against me.

Ridiculous.

I reached in my bottom drawer for a notepad and my breath caught at the sight of the Almond Joys.

The Almond Joys Bobby sent me weekly.

So far I’d done a good job not thinking about him, his job offer, even though I knew I had to at some point soon.

The phone rang, but I let Brickhouse answer. It was apparently what I was paying her for.