Switchy

  “I know they do, and I love them for it. It’s like ripping the scab off all over again. I don’t know how Seth and Leah got through it.”

  “Please? I miss our friends. Let’s at least go. If you can’t handle it, we’ll leave. They’ll understand.”

  Finally, “I’ll think about it.”

  They fell silent again.

  Janis and the men had met through mutual friends in the Suncoast Society munch group. But because of her job, and Garrison’s, most of their activities occurred at home in private, or at private parties. And now…

  “I think maybe I want to redo the kitchen now,” Jarred quietly said. “It’ll do me some good to rip stuff apart.”

  Garrison reached over and patted him on the thigh and left his hand there.

  They rode the rest of the way home in silence.

  * * * *

  Garrison worried about Jarred. He knew the man irrationally blamed himself, in part, for Janis’ death. Jarred was denning, holed up in his grief and no longer making any progress through it.

  Maybe inheriting the house was just what the doctor ordered.

  “We’re in agreement that no baby-crap-green carpet will be installed in the house?” Garrison asked as they walked up to their apartment door.

  Finally, the hint of a smile from Jarred. “Agreed. I was thinking that laminate stuff that looks like wood planks, but it’s not. We can put it down ourselves and it’ll be cheaper than tile.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Hell, he’d agree to nearly anything to keep Jarred talking. This was the most animated he’d seen him in…

  Well, too damn long.

  “I’m thinking,” Jarred continued as he dropped his keys into the bowl on the shelf by the front door, “that we maybe go with a really light forest green paint in the living room. And the more I think about it, I do want to replace the kitchen now. It does make sense to go ahead and do it.”

  “The guest bath just needs a paint job, really. For now, at least. And the flooring. Already has that white cabinet, white toilet and tub. Rip out that crappy linoleum in there.”

  Jarred nodded. “Yeah. That was what I was thinking.” He turned and looked up at Garrison. “We can leave the yard alone for now. We’re heading into winter and dry season. Kind of stupid to go crazy and have to water the heck out of everything.”

  “You know, the back lanai is huge. We could get one of those pools that’s like a spa, but it has a current so you can swim against it.”

  Garrison spotted the signs. Gears were clicking over in Jarred’s brain.

  “Not a bad idea, actually. A lot easier to maintain, I bet.”

  “Probably.”

  Jarred rested his head against Garrison’s chest. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

  Garrison wrapped his arms around him. “Hey, I love you, buddy. You know that.”

  “She would have beaten my ass for being like this, huh?”

  Garrison rubbed his chin across the top of Jarred’s head. “Probably. Both of us. Would have told us to suck it up and live, the way she ordered us to. We’re technically disobeying her.”

  “Used that nasty hex rod on us as punishment.”

  “Yeah.”

  They let out identical, sad sighs.

  * * * *

  Em and Mitchell had almost finished their work when Chelbie arrived, spotted them, and made a beeline for them for hugs before sitting in the booth with them.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Mitchell said. “How’s things going?”

  “Great. Rich is on his way.”

  Em still wasn’t sure exactly what was going on with those three, but she didn’t pry, much less care. Chelbie was a talented graphic artist who frequently did photography and layout work for them.

  She was also the wife or girlfriend or all-of-the-above to both Rich Hurst and his fraternal twin brother, Nick.

  Since the three of them were adults, Em guessed it wasn’t any of her business what the three of them did in their bedroom. All Em cared about was that Chelbie was fast, good, and a joy to work with.

  “So why do you look a little down?” Chelbie asked her.

  “Mom troubles. SSDD.”

  “Ah. Sorry.”

  “Two hunks are moving in next door,” Mitchell the instigator said. “And her mom sicced the po-po on them.”

  Chelbie’s eyes widened. “No!”

  “Ooohhh, yes,” Em confirmed, giving the very abbreviated version of the story.

  “Sorry,” Chelbie said with a giggle. “But that’s funny.”

  “Yeah, real funny.”

  “Well, sounds like if they exchanged numbers with you that they weren’t too upset.”

  “Just to get in touch in case anything happens.”

  Chelbie shrugged. “Suuure.”

  “I’m sure they’re probably gay and a couple.”

  “They can at least be friends.”

  “Well, of course. The poor bastards might regret giving me an invitation to come over to escape after their first week there when they can’t get rid of me. Especially if my mom calls 911 on them again.”

  “Have faith,” Chelbie said. “Things can change when you least expect it.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “For the better,” Chelbie insisted.

  * * * *

  It was a little after ten that night when Em returned home. Despite ignoring three calls from her mom, Em had calmed down a lot and regretted blowing her top earlier.

  But the overall sentiment remained valid, and her friends had confirmed she wasn’t overreacting. This living arrangement was not a healthy situation for any of them.

  Something needed to change.

  She found her father still up, watching TV in the living room.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “How mad is she? She tried calling me three times.”

  “Three? Dang. Sorry. I only caught her once.” He sighed. “She’s tried three different times to get out of the doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

  She sat on the couch. “Tomorrow? Wow, that’s fast.”

  “At one o’clock. They had a cancellation. When I told them our concerns and suspicions, they said they wanted her in there regardless, and that they’d fit her in.”

  “What do we do if they tell us there’s nothing wrong with her medically?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m probably buying an RV and heading to Alaska.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He smiled. “Sorry.” Then his smile faded. “I honestly don’t know what the next step will be. We need to start somewhere.”

  With her dad, at least, she could dive head-first into the difficult topics when it was just the two of them. “Tell me about the divorce thing. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard either of you drop the D-bomb before. What’s up with that?”

  He suddenly seemed to find his fingernails very interesting. “She’s tossed that around a few times throughout our marriage. Usually when she apparently thought I wasn’t toeing her line. Normally, I blew her off. She really pulled it out when it came to selling the house and moving in with you. I loved her, and thought this whole thing was a temporary situation, so I caved.”

  He slowly shook his head. “I’m thinking about talking to an attorney myself. My pension is mine. I could always rent a small apartment and get by just fine.”

  “Great. Leave me stuck with her,” she snarked.

  “No, I don’t think that’s a fair option, either. Your mom got your brother and sister worked up and on her side before she ever brought me into the conversation. She’d already signed a contract with a realtor. It’d pretty much been decided, and, honestly? The way I was told, I thought you were okay with this and had agreed to it. It wasn’t until we were here that I realized how wrong I was.”

  “And everything was already loaded in the moving truck.”

  “Basically.” He finally met her gaze. “She’d told me that she??
?d been keeping in touch with you throughout the whole process and you were ready for us to move in, but you were so busy with work at the time, you couldn’t help with the move. And that she was okay with that. I didn’t think she’d flat-out lie to me about it. I have to admit that was beyond the pale, even for her.”

  She leaned back. “And then when you guys moved in, it was too late to do anything about it.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, I thought this was temporary. She said the offer we got on our house was too good to let go, and we could find another place after we moved out. I figured I’d get her talked into a condo like we’d originally decided, and we’d be out of your hair in a few weeks or less. I never expected her to just…stay planted here. You’re right that you deserve to have your life and your privacy.”

  “I’m torn between feeling like the world’s suckiest daughter and wanting to toss her out on her ass.”

  “We need to get a medical evaluation,” he said. “I have to do that first. But a friend of mine said he and his wife moved into a retirement community, this great place where it’s their own duplex apartment, but there’s on-site medical and nursing staff. And a cafeteria, game rooms, social activities—everything. Best of both worlds. If they don’t feel like cooking, they go to the cafeteria. I’m thinking about looking into that.”

  “Good luck getting her to move.”

  “I won’t hesitate to pull her own stunt on her and hire the movers to come in while she’s at a hair appointment or something and not give her a choice in the matter.”

  Em laughed. “Really?”

  “Really. If she seriously wants to divorce me over it, she’ll have to figure out where she’s going to live.”

  “Or I could give up the lease on this place and sign it over to you guys. I wasn’t kidding about that.”

  “I know. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you, how independent you are. All three of you were great kids, but you always struck out on your own. You were never afraid.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’ve been afraid plenty of times.”

  He stood and walked over to her, arms open. She stood and hugged him.

  “Love you, sweetheart. Thank you for being so patient.”

  And that made her feel worse. “Love you, too, Daddy. But I don’t think I acted very patient today.”

  “Understandable. I don’t want you to feel bad about it, either. Maybe it’s time she heard the unvarnished truth for a change. Maybe we contributed to the problem by letting her get her way for so long.”

  Once Em was alone again she sank back down onto the couch. Three years without privacy was a long damn time. She should be grateful her parents were even alive, much less living with her, but it wasn’t like her mom made it easy.

  If she just wasn’t there, underfoot all the time. Like a needy child. If she’d just go out and socialize or…something. Volunteer. Reconnect with her friends.

  Em couldn’t even have a relationship with a guy with her mom living there. Not if every guy she brought home would be treated the way her mom had treated the others. She didn’t even blame the guys, that was the sad thing about it. She understood totally that they didn’t want to get involved with a woman living with her rude mom.

  Even her own dad didn’t hold it against her.

  Knowing they couldn’t solve anything until they had medical answers, Em tabled the mental discussion and headed to bed.

  Chapter Four

  Em didn’t bother trying to work from home Tuesday morning. She didn’t even unpack her laptop from her bag to check her morning e-mail like she usually did. She grabbed a shower, made herself a travel mug of coffee and toasted a bagel, and got the heck out of there before her mother made an appearance.

  She suspected the woman was sulking, which was typical behavior for her lately after a major confrontation.

  Dad can deal with her today.

  Em hated that she felt like that about her mom, too. It didn’t used to be this way. In the beginning, it had been minor irritations, quickly forgotten.

  Now, it felt like deep-seated resentment had settled into the bottom of Em’s soul like silt in a dead lake, getting deeper by the week, the slightest current or eddy stirring it all up into a foul muck that took longer each time to clear.

  That’s not how she wanted to be with her mom.

  Maybe it’s time I finally called Don and Amy to the carpet for their roles in this.

  Just because she was single and didn’t have kids didn’t mean she should have to shoulder the burden of this alone. Especially if it turned out their mom had a medical issue.

  She and Mitchell pulled into the parking lot at the building that housed the Varel Estate Sales headquarters at the same time.

  “Good morning, slacker,” he brightly teased after getting out of his car. “Ready to work today?”

  “I might be begging for you to put a futon in my office at this rate. I can sleep here and get some peace.”

  He cocked his head as he stared at her. “Okay, so what happened between getting you pried out of your dumps last night and this morning?”

  “Just…everything. Dad’s taking Mom to the doctor today. I’m going to feel shitty if she really is sick.”

  “Hey, don’t be like that. Besides, Brent also said you can escape to our place. Chez Goldstein always has an open spot for you.”

  “I appreciate it. And you might regret that invite when I move in.”

  “You’re still welcome, as long as you don’t mind looking at old, naked gay guys.”

  They walked inside, disarmed the alarm, and got their day started. Some of their work crew would be there in another hour to pick up where they left off. Since most of their on-site estate sales happened on Saturdays and Sundays, many of their crew took Mondays and Tuesdays off, depending on their situation. They also held Thursday evening sales there at the warehouse, as well as a small storefront that was open five days a week, where they sold consignment items and featured items that were also available for purchase online.

  Brent was a night-owl and never came in before eleven, unless it was to help out at an on-site sale. But he frequently worked until midnight or later, and was usually the one who oversaw the Thursday night auctions.

  Considering they’d grown the business from renting one warehouse bay twenty years earlier to owning a fifteen-thousand-square-foot, two-story building, paid for in the clear, they must be doing something right.

  And Em had been there for a majority of that time. She’d taken advantage of technology to streamline the inventory process, using barcodes and label readers to make creating their catalog and posting it to their website a breeze. Their online store and on-site inventory were integrated into one shopping cart that allowed them to easily track everything. October to March was their busiest time because of snowbirds flocking back to the Sarasota area from wintry northern climes. This being the beginning of October, they were ready for the deluge and looking forward to it.

  While a little on the macabre side, it also meant they were in no danger of not having collections to market for families, since there was also a high percentage of retired residents in the region. Their building was located outside the Sarasota city limits, in an industrial complex just to the east of I-75, but they handled on-site sales in Sarasota, Manatee, Charlotte, and some of western Hardee and DeSoto counties.

  The last thing on Em’s mind when she started working for Mitchell and Brent had been that this would become her career. But she loved it. It was never boring, she was always learning new things, either about what they were selling or about technology that would make their jobs easier, and she enjoyed being an integral part of the operation.

  The last three years, especially, this had become her refuge, her oasis.

  Her peace.

  The only peace it felt like she had anymore.

  Her office was small, but neat and tidy. Eight years ago, she’d transitioned the entire business to a nearly paperless system, using tablet
s and virtual documents to eliminate mountains of papers that could get lost. E-mailing and texting contracts and receipts to customers meant even less paperwork to deal with.

  She kept very little on her desk, finding it a distraction to how she worked. The only thing on her desktop besides her laptop and a few office supplies was a small rose quartz egg on a stand in one corner.

  She’d purchased it on a whim one day when browsing through a New Age shop in search of a birthday gift for Mitchell. Something about it had spoken to her, and she liked the calming color. Sometimes, when she was deep in thought, she picked it up and rolled the smooth, cool stone back and forth between her hands.

  Not that she was into any kind of religious mumbo-jumbo, New Age or otherwise. But anything that could help calm her when she needed to settle her mind and focus was a good thing, in her opinion.

  Mitchell stuck his head into her doorway. “Coffeepot’s going, sugar. What time is your mom’s appointment?”

  “One.”

  “Do you want to take off for it?”

  “No, I’m going to let Dad handle it. I think at this point my presence would only inflame the issue.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, go for it. We got this.”

  “Thanks.”

  She was able to bury herself in her work, a blissful respite from her situation at home.

  No way in hell she’d relinquish that precious bit of time.

  * * * *

  Jarred knew his Tuesday morning was going to shit when, five minutes after clocking in at six a.m., he was covered in shit from an exploding colostomy bag. After another CNA hurried in to take over, he went to go clean up, change, and call housekeeping to take care of his soiled scrubs.

  And it’s not even a Monday.

  He loved his job, normally. He could have gone back to school to get his nursing degree, but he was thirty-eight and didn’t really want to invest the effort. Not after he’d spent eight years in the Army right out of high school. He’d been lucky that his postings were all non-combat zones. When he’d gotten out and decided to go to school, becoming a CNA seemed like the best route. Shorter time in school, plenty of jobs to be found in the Sarasota area, and decent pay.