Heart to Heart Read online

  “Sit down and join us,” Steph said, pointing to her chair. “I’ve got another chair in the truck.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Parker said. She took a big bag off her shoulder while Steph trotted off to get another chair.

  Susan pointed at Parker’s bag. “What’s that all about?”

  “Frisbee golf,” Parker said, pulling a disc from the bag. She handed it to Susan who seemed surprised by its weight.

  “I didn’t realize they were so heavy” Susan said.

  “Each one of the discs is weighted differently. Like golf clubs,” Parker said. “See those metal baskets up on poles,” she pointed to a nearby basket, “those are the holes. The goal is to get your disc into the basket.” She smiled big. “It’s fun and inexpensive. You know how much it costs to play regular golf at the country club? Fifty-six dollars for eighteen holes. It’s ridiculous.”

  Without segue, Parker looked at Susan and asked, “How’s the reading coming?”

  “Huh?” Susan asked, not understanding.

  “The reading room? I was inquiring about your reading room,” Parker said.

  “Oh, that!” Susan said. “I love it. You did a great job.”

  Parker had helped Susan turn her spare bedroom into a cozy reading room. She had built wall-to-wall book shelves and a reading cubbyhole by the bay window. The room was Susan’s favorite place to decompress, read, and gaze around at the comfort and beauty that Parker had created with only her hands and power tools. Susan wished she could fall for Parker. There’d been looks and talk while Parker worked in her house, but for some reason they just didn’t click. And they both seemed to know they were too old to waste time on relationships that weren’t the real thing.

  Steph returned with the chair. She plopped down in it and grabbed her beer. “So Parker, what the hell have you been up to?”

  Parker seemed to relax more with Steph beside her. Parker was awkward around people—and that was putting it nicely. It’s not just that Parker was an introvert, it was more like she had Asperger’s syndrome. A mild case. Just enough Asperger’s to make her socially awkward. Her friends were used to Parker’s idiosyncrasies, but new people were often put off by her strangeness.

  “I’m working with Mr. Donnelly, adding to his barn. He wants a new stall for his prize Arabians. He’s helping,” Parker said, putting air quotes around the word “helping.”

  “In other words, he won’t have to pay you full wages,” Steph said.

  “Pretty much,” Parker said with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “So, he’s cheating you,” Susan asked, anger flaring. “It’s not like he doesn’t have the money to pay what you’re worth.”

  “It’s basic work. And he does send a lot of business my way,” Parker replied.

  “You’re such a sport,” Rosa said. “I can’t say I’d be too nice about that.”

  Susan said, “He’s taking advantage of her.”

  “I don’t mind,” Parker said. “It’s the only work I can get right now. Nobody seems to be remodeling lately.”

  “Speaking of which, I might have a lead on a woman who’s going to need some serious work done on her house,” Steph said.

  “As in a remodel?” Parker asked.

  “Her kitchen burned down today,” Steph said.

  “Everyone okay?” Parker asked.

  “Yeah, it’s all good. But she’s going to need some carpentry work,” Steph said.

  “Her mother has Alzheimer’s. It’s her mother’s house,” Susan said.

  “Ah, man that’s tough,” Parker said. “I’m between jobs. I could help her out if she wants.”

  “I’m meeting her tomorrow. Why don’t you show up and introduce yourself?” Steph asked.

  “Sure,” Parker said.

  “She’s also pretty easy on the eyes,” Steph said with a grin.

  Parker looked down at her toes. She didn’t blush, but it was obvious she was embarrassed.

  Steph continued, “And I think she’s single.”

  Parker shifted uneasily in her chair.

  “Stop it, Steph,” Rosa said under her breath. “You’re embarrassing her.”

  “I just don’t want to date,” Parker said. “It gets too complicated.”

  “Hey, Parker! You gonna sit on your ass or you gonna play?”

  Parker perked up at the sound of the woman’s voice. She turned in her chair and waved at a woman wearing a ball cap, tank top, and cargo shorts. “I am not sitting on my ass. I am conversing with my friends,” Parker said.

  “Well, while you’re conversing, I’m beating your butt,” the woman said.

  “Come here for a minute. I want you to meet my friends,” Parker said.

  The woman sauntered over. She took off her hat. Long auburn hair fell to her shoulders. She wiped her brow with a handkerchief. “I know Rosa and Steph. But I don’t know…” She aimed a beautiful smile directly at Susan. “you. Hi, I’m Tess Donnelly.”

  “Susan Everett,” Susan said in almost a whisper as she locked eyes with Tess. Susan stood up and extended her hand. Tess took her sunglasses off and shook her hand. Susan liked her for that. She hated talking to people with their sunglasses on so that you couldn’t see their eyes. Tess had lovely green eyes and freckles spattered across her nose.

  “I didn’t know Parker had such pretty friends,” Tess said.

  Susan laughed nervously.

  Rosa and Steph looked knowingly at each other. There was an obvious electrical current passing from Tess to Susan.

  “Ready to go?” Parker asked Tess. She said bye to the others and strode off.

  “Be right there,” Tess said, but her eyes never left Susan’s face. “It was nice to meet you, Susan.”

  “It was nice to meet you, too,” Susan said.

  After a moment, Tess turned and trotted off. “Hey, wait for me!” she called out to Parker.

  Susan stared after Tess. Rosa and Steph watched Susan carefully. Finally, Rosa uttered, “Well, looks like this summer just got more interesting.”

  Chapter Three

  Amy stood in the front yard and stared at her childhood home. It held so many memories for her. Mostly memories that she would rather not have. Memories that she had spent most of her adult life trying to forget.

  Amy had already stopped by the hospital. Her mother was awake and eating breakfast, but she still didn’t recognize Amy. Dr. Everett had told her that her mother’s confusion most likely stemmed from the excitement of the fire. In a calmer environment, her mother might recognize her. In time.

  “We can only keep her here one more night,” Susan had said.

  “Then what?” Amy asked.

  “I recommend Brookside. I’m one of the doctors there. Your mother’s care would be in my hands.” Susan handed Amy a brochure. “They’ll take good care of her.”

  Amy knew she had to take a look at the place and she’d have to resolve herself to it. There really was no other option. Had her mother not burned down the house, Amy might have considered caring for her mother. There was a part of her that felt relieved that she wouldn’t have to. She was also glad she didn’t have a sibling to contend with over this. She’d seen enough of her gay friends getting forced by sibling pressure to be the one to care for the ailing parent because they didn’t have a “family” to take care of.

  Amy’s thoughts were broken by a black truck pulling up in front of the house. Steph hopped out and pulled a metal rod from the back of her truck. She joined Amy. “Good morning.”

  “I don’t know about good,” Amy said.

  “It’s all uphill from here,” Steph said. “I brought you a coffee from The Perk—best coffee in town. Here, hold this,” she said, handing Amy the metal rod. It looked like some type of Medieval weapon.

  Steph jogged back to her truck, stuck her upper half inside, and came out with two paper cups of coffee. “I got you a latte. I figured any self-respecting coffee lover would go for a latte. If you drink tea, you’re out of luck.” She handed a
cup to Amy. The logo on the cup was one solitary drop of coffee hovering over a cup.

  “I love coffee.” Amy held the cup under her nose and inhaled, smiling. “Most people have blood in their veins; I have coffee.” She gratefully sipped. “Mmm, this is good.”

  “It’s on Dorset just down from the college.”

  “I haven’t been here in Fenton in years. So much has changed.”

  Steph nodded. “We’re growing a lot. Fenton has doubled in size in the past twenty years. Lots of transplants from Kansas City and St. Louis. They come here for the small-town life. Ironically, it won’t be a small town much longer. Let’s catch lunch when we’re done here, my treat. Kate’s Sandwich Shop has an awesome lunch special.”

  “Your better half okay with that?” Amy asked. She didn’t want to be overstepping any boundaries.

  “She’s the one who suggested it.”

  “Okay,” Amy said. “I’m hungry already. I didn’t take time for breakfast. I didn’t want to wake Mrs. Fitzsimmons, so I got out quick.”

  “She’s not an early riser?” Steph asked, eyeing the fire zone. Amy could tell she wanted to get started.

  Amy shook her head. “Nope, she’s a night owl, always has been. Sometimes when I was a kid and couldn’t sleep, I’d sneak over to her house. We’d watch old black and white movies and have cookies and warm milk. My mother never knew about those nights. I don’t know how I would’ve made it through my childhood without Mrs. Fitzsimmons.”

  “So it’s always been a tough relationship with your mother?” Steph asked. She sipped her coffee.

  “You could say that,” Amy said. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She shook the bad thoughts out of her head and asked, “Okay, what’s next with this mess?”

  “We do some poking around and make sure there are no hot spots,” Steph said. She finished her coffee. “Let’s go take a look.” She walked through the side yard and up to the burnt remainder of the kitchen. She used the pole to poke around, jabbing it everywhere, stirring the ash and soot.

  After a couple of minutes, Steph said, “You know, this isn’t that bad.”

  Amy edged closer. “Is it just the kitchen?” She peered up at the burnt rafters slanting across what was left of the kitchen. She saw the range, black and twisted. The house would need all new appliances.

  “For the most part. Because the kitchen was contained by three supporting walls, the fire didn’t have a lot of places to go initially.”

  “I forgot to thank you all for that,” Amy said. “Firefighters amaze me.”

  “Just doing our job.”

  Amy’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and answered, “Hello?”

  “Is this Ms. Warner? Amy Warner?”

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “I’m Randy Corbett from Allsort’s insurance. I’ll be your adjuster for the damages you’ve incurred with the house fire. Mrs. Fitzsimmons gave me your phone number.”

  “Oh, hi.” Amy hadn’t thought much about the mechanics of house fires. “Please tell me that means my mother has house insurance?”

  “Yes, your mother carries all her insurance through us. I understand Mrs. Warner is in the hospital?”

  “She is.” Amy didn’t know if she should tell people about her mother’s medical condition.

  “I understand that she’ll be needing long term care and I want you to know that all her financial needs at Brookside will be handled through our agency. Brookside will bill us directly unless you want it handled some other way. Most people prefer to let us take care of it.”

  “Wait a minute, my mother has insurance to pay for Brookside?”

  “Yes, she purchased it several years ago, specifically naming Brookside as her choice. She called me and I came over and gave your mother the details. At the time, she thought it best that her care was paid for in advance. She also has burial insurance, not that she’ll need that anytime soon. I thought I should let you know.”

  “Oh, of course I’d like you to take care of it. I’m at a bit of a loss here.”

  “Not a problem. I’ve got all the necessary forms. There’s a few papers requiring your signature. Our offices are located on the corner of Dorset and Myers Streets. Drop by whenever it’s convenient for you. And please let us know if we can do anything else to aid you in your time of need.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Corbett. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Good day,” he said and hung up.

  Steph returned from her poking around. “Randy get hold of you?”

  “Yes, he sounds really nice.”

  “He’s a good guy. His company insures about half the town. He’ll do right by you.”

  “Good, because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “This kind of thing is overwhelming. Oh, I talked to Parker, the carpenter I told you about? She should be here any minute,” Steph said, consulting her heavy duty black watch. “I hope you don’t mind that I asked her to come by.”

  “Not at all. I can’t believe how helpful everyone is. In New York, everyone is busy and out for themselves. It’s survival of the fittest.”

  “We must seem kind of boring to you after living there.”

  “Boring is just what I need right now.”

  Steph put her hands on her hips and looked around. “I’m thinking we’re good here. I didn’t find any hot spots. Parker can get a crew to clean this up and get it out of here. She can bill your insurance company directly. She’s worked with Randy before.”

  At that moment, a bright yellow work van drove up and parked on the street in front of the house. The logo on the side was a round circle with a hammer in the center. “There’s Parker now.” Steph changed her voice to a whisper, like somebody could overhear, “Just a word of warning: Parker is a little different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Not different bad. Just…different. You’ll see.”

  Parker jumped out of the van and walked toward them. She was dressed in tan work pants, boots, and a tank top. She was mouth-wateringly gorgeous, Amy thought. Then she silently chided herself for having such thoughts. Especially at a time like this.

  “Hello. You must be Amy. It’s nice to meet you. Let me start off by saying that I am very sorry to hear about your mother,” Parker said by way of greeting.

  “Thank you,” Amy said with a smile. She held out her hand to shake.

  Parker stared at Amy’s hand like she didn’t know what to do with it. Then realization lit up her face and she took Amy’s hand and shook.

  Steph had been right, Amy thought. There was something different about Parker. It wasn’t just the handshake or the way she looked, or the way she talked. It was more of an attitude thing. Like she was totally genuine—with no protective facade. Amy felt an instant attraction. Like she knew she could trust Parker.

  Parker tore her intense gaze away from Amy’s face and surveyed the charred remains of the kitchen. As her eyes roamed from one corner to another, she seemed to be rebuilding the kitchen in her mind.

  Steph cleared her throat. When Parker still didn’t acknowledge her, Steph prodded, “Hello, Parker.”

  Without looking at Steph, Parker replied, “Hello, Steph.”

  Parker turned her bright blue gaze back to Amy. “If you want me, I’m all yours.”

  Amy laughed lightly. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words.”

  Parker didn’t laugh. She looked perplexed.

  Steph came to the rescue by saying, “I think Amy was making a joke, Parker.”

  “Oh,” Parker said. “I see. That was funny.” She didn’t laugh. “Are you a lesbian?”

  “Yes. Are you?” Amy retorted.

  “Yes.”

  “So, when can you start?” Amy asked.

  “Is that another joke?” Parker asked.

  “No,” Amy said. “If I hire you to rebuild, when can you start?”

  Parker chewed the side of her mouth and looked at the burnt, soggy mess.
Finally, she said, “Tomorrow.”

  “How long do you think it’s going to take?” Amy asked.

  Parker shrugged. “Do you mind if I go inside and have a look around?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Parker asked Steph, “You cleared it?”

  “Yep,” Steph said.

  Parker stepped into the mess and disappeared through the open kitchen doorway, saying, “First thing, we need to block this doorway off before people get in here and steal all your stuff. I can do that in a minute, if you want.”

  Amy carefully picked a path through the burned kitchen and followed Parker into the house’s living room. She inhaled sharply at what she saw.

  It was a hoarder’s paradise. There was stuff everywhere—old clothes, paperback books, plastic bags, stacks of paper towels and toilet paper that had never been opened, cardboard boxes full of stuffed animals and broken doll parts. Stacks upon stacks of newspapers lined the walls. A narrow path led from one side of the room to the other with three tributaries that allowed access to more cardboard boxes with dusty Avon supplies and moldy holiday decorations.

  “Holy crap,” Amy breathed.

  “Did you know your mother was a hoarder?” Parker asked evenly.

  Amy reached out and held onto the door jamb for support. She thought she might faint from the closeness of the room. It smelled like old paper and mothballs. It was a dizzy combination.

  “I take it you didn’t know,” Parker said.

  Amy tried to make light of the situation by saying, “On second thought, let’s don’t close off this doorway. We can pray that people will steal the stuff.”

  Steph appeared behind Amy and looked over her shoulder into the living room. “It’s a miracle this whole house didn’t go. This place is a tinderbox.” She looked at Amy. “It could be worse. We once had a call for an electrical fire. The guy had like fifty guinea pigs. They covered the living room floor. One of them had chewed wires and started the fire.” Steph studied the room. “This all has to go, you realize that?”

  “And your mother is not going to like it,” Parker said.