Author's note: This is the first chaper of my latest novel! It is an e-book for sale at Amazon! Enjoy!
Chapter One
It wasn’t a good day in the life of Carly Middleton. It hadn’t been a good evening the night before, and now, thanks to a coffee pot that decided to commit suicide for no apparent reason, she’d have as much caffeine as she had sleep. Carly glanced at the oven clock. Fifteen minutes until the arrival of Larry Tatos, Jr., plumber extraordinaire. She stared at the coffee pot longingly. She would need something to get her through the impending appointment. Desperate, she eyed an unopened bottle of champagne, a housewarming gift from her parents. Was nine-thirty in the morning too early to down a glass? Carly pushed away the thought. She would not add “Begin a Drinking Problem” to her ever growing “to do list”. And after moving back home to Wisconsin and into her home on Lake Della, that particular list loomed long.
She padded around the kitchen and tried to remember where she left another note, a shorter list of tasks to accomplish today. Somewhere between midnight, when a storm woke her, and six this morning when it finally abated, she had jotted down a plan of action for putting the house in shape. But now she couldn’t find the darn thing. Of course, being dead tired wasn't helping matters, nor was the dull ache in her right eye that warned of an impending migraine. Luckily, another quick glance around the kitchen revealed the list camouflaged on her white Formica countertop. She located her migraine medication in the glass-paned cabinet above.
She downed a pill with a glass of water, seated herself at the kitchen table and attempted to make sense of her scribbles from the night before.
Find a plumber. Carly picked up a nearby pen and lazily crossed this first duty off the list. She had already placed an early morning call to local plumber, Larry Tatos’s office. A squeaky voiced receptionist answered the call and informed Carly that, unfortunately, Larry Sr. was in the hospital with his own personal plumbing problems. The woman added that Larry Jr. was handling the customer calls.
Larry Tatos, Junior. Carly bristled at the mention of his name and the memory of how he handled her in high school when she once dated him. Larry, a short, but well-built wrestler with an ego as big as his biceps, turned out to be all hands. The date lasted exactly fifteen minutes, just enough time for Larry to drive her to the outdoor movie, park the car, and plant a big wet one on her while groping her breasts. Carly flew out of Larry’s car faster than the welt could rise where she slapped him. She walked home along the Wisconsin country roads, a safer bet than spending one more minute with Larry. Now, nearly fourteen years later, she again found herself at the mercy of the wrestling man-handler and his plunger.
Carly sighed and studied the next duty on her list.
Call exterminator. She laughed. Yes, an exterminator might be the answer to her Larry problem. But her sense of humor faded as she remembered the real reason, or rather, the score of eight-legged reasons that beckoned the aid of a pesticide-packing hero. Carly yawned, recalling her encounter with her new housemates. The wicked thunderstorm woke her around midnight. A huge crack of lightening soon followed. Carly plummeted into darkness while her canine bedfellow, Rags, ran downstairs in fear. Carly followed him, guiding herself about by candlelight, only to find, not the dog, but an infestation of tiny brown spiders decorating the first floor walls of her home. Streams of the little fellows dangled from web strands against the faded wallpaper. Carly stood horrified as the spiders danced up and down upon their silken threads. A spider or two in an old house by a lake she expected, not thirty or more of the creatures performing their own Cirque du Soleil on her living room walls. Carly backed into the kitchen where the walls remained blessedly free from freakish entertainment. Relieved, she plopped down on a kitchen chair, too wide-awake from the storm to fall asleep, and too nervous about what might crawl on her if she did. With nothing better to do, she devised her list of tasks by candlelight, while manic-minded Rags destroyed her walk-in kitchen pantry.
Call vet. Carly read the next item on the list and glanced over at the tan and brown Airedale who now slept peacefully amongst the mess he created last night.
“Sorry, big fella,” she said, recalling his terror during the storm. As a puppy, Rags barked at the rain and lightening as if his high pitched yapping could scare it away. But now, with old-age dementia worsening by the day, the mere sound of a spring rain against the windowpane could send him scurrying in fear. Last night produced Rags’s worst episode yet. In his frightened state, he knocked all the white, wooden pantry shelves off their holders, and sent pots, open cereal boxes and bags of flour careening to the floor. Carly knew from experience she was helpless to aid Rags in this manic state. She could only watch helplessly as he spun himself dizzy, and finally collapse into the mess. After a while, she went over to him, cleared some of the debris, sat next to her dear companion and spent the remainder of the evening with her head against his side.
Carly crossed out Call vet from the list. She knew someday she must let Rags escape his arthritis and tortured mind, but today, just like every other day for the past year, she could not do it. After all, a little mess never hurt anyone.
The last item on her list would be a bit more difficult to negotiate. Request some time off of work and get more sleep or admit you’re as insane as your dog.
Carly pondered these two choices. It was clearly time to take stock in her sanity. After all, she had lived in her new home for three weeks and that should be ample enough time to figure out what the strange noises coming from the third floor, attic rooms were. She believed some animal must be boarding there, but on inspection, she found no traces of any critter or bird in residence. In fact, those rooms were deadly quiet, and offered no evidence of the voices she heard late at night. On four different evenings, she awoke between the hours of two and four a.m. to what sounded like female voices in the attic. Carly ignored them, brushing them off as neighbors talking outside or late night boaters drifting across the lake. Perhaps a window had been left open or there was a crack in the attic wall allowing in noise? Another inspection, however, disproved Carly’s theory. The attic windows appeared painted shut at the base. Where were those voices coming from? Regardless, they had to cease. Either that or she’d have to admit she’d gone crazy from loneliness without Greg Warner in her life.
She shook her head back and forth. No, she wasn’t one of those women who went insane because of a man. Yes, thanks to Greg and his philandering ways, she returned home from Chicago and changed her employment to a new hospital. But weren’t those the choices of a sane woman wanting a fresh approach to life and love?
“Sanity. Check!” Carly spoke aloud as she underscored get more sleep.
Rags chose that moment to look up from his nap. He cocked his head to the side and stared questioningly at her.
“You know I’m sane, don’t you boy?” She blew the dog a kiss.
Rags whimpered and rested his head back upon his paws. Not exactly the response she hoped for. Carly picked up the pen and jotted: Have Dad inspect attic again for animals.
A loud rapping on her back porch door startled her. She glanced at the oven clock. Nine forty-five. Larry Jr., if nothing else, was punctual.
Carly stood. “Coming!” She opened the kitchen door to the carpeted back porch, kicked a pair of sandals out of the way and peered through the screened porch door. She retreated a step or town with surprise. If time really stood still, Larry was its poster child. He appeared not one iota different than when Carly last saw him on graduation day. He stood a head shorter than her five foot five frame and loomed twice as large sporting a belly that boasted its share of burgers and fries. His greasy, brown hair fell into his eyes, and his fashion sense still leaned toward torn jeans and -Carly tried not to gasp - was that the same black AC/DC t-shirt he wore on their date?
She reached up and unlatched the metal hook that kept the screen door shut. “Hi, Larry. Come on in.”
He grabbed a metal toolbox from the ground and entered the porch. “I wasn’t sure if I should come in the front or back way.”
“The back way is fine,” Carly said, as he plodded past her, his Brut aftershave permeating the air. Nope, not even a change in cologne for old Larry.
He paused in the kitchen and turned towards her, his small, beady eyes studying her. “You look familiar.”
“We went to high school together.” Carly left it at that, but she could see the wheels in Larry’s head turn. She pointed to the counter to redirect the conversation. “The clog is in the sink.”
Larry scratched his head, his bushy eyebrows furrowing together. “High school, huh?” He glanced at his work order. “Carly. Carly Middleton.” Suddenly he snapped his fingers and turned on her, his grin exposing teeth too small for his wide smile. “I dated you!”
“Once.” Carly tried to shoo him further towards the sink.
Larry took a few steps towards her and hoisted his toolbox on the table. “So where’d ya go after high school?”
“Loyola University in Chicago.”
“Oh yeah? That’s cool. I stayed here. Went into my dad’s business.” He chuckled. “Obviously.”
Carly tried to use that tidbit of conversation to guide him back to the present day. “Well then, you’re just the guy for this problem! Meet the sink. It’s clogged. I tried plunging it, but it won’t clear. I tried the usual chemical products, too. Nothing.”
Larry walked to the sink and stared at the nasty brown, stagnant liquid. “Yeah, that’s clogged all right.” He looked up at her again. “So you’re back in Della and you own this place?” He glanced around the kitchen and peered into the dining room through the arched doorway. “Awesome!”
Carly took a deep breath. Perhaps if she just answered quick and to the point Larry would get back to business.
“Yes, I moved back home about three weeks ago and bought this house with the help of my parents. I used to baby-sit here when I was young.”
“You must make mucho buckaroos to afford a house on the lake!” Larry stared at the mess in her sink as he spoke and turned the faucets on and off.
Carly forced herself to remain polite even though she was not about to discuss her finances with him. “I do okay. I’m a nurse.”
Larry turned towards her again, resting his hands behind him on the sink. “Yeah? A nurse? Cool.”
“I like it.” My head hurts. Please work on my sink.
“So, you know anyone in town these days?”
I wish I knew another plumber. “Why?”
“Oh nothing. Just wonderin’, that’s all. Just thinkin’ that being new in town and all, if you’re lookin’ for something to do at night, a couple of us from high school hang out at The Second Wind for beer and pool.” He shook his head as if lost in his own little dream world. “The juke box there rocks!”
Carly rubbed her temple. “I’m pretty busy right now unpacking and working. Plus, I don’t really do the bar scene.”
Larry turned away from her and stared at the sink. “Oh, okay. Just thought you might want to meet a few people. That’s all.”
Carly sighed and rolled her eyes. What she wanted was to get her sink unplugged, her spiders stomped, and some sleep. “Look. I’m sorry, Larry. That came out wrong due to a migraine. What I meant is that I’ve been really busy lately. You know, tired from work and the move. So when I do have an evening free, I-”
Larry turned and reached for his toolbox, his face slightly flush. “Don’t sweat it.” He returned to his work, knelt down on one knee and pulled aside the small cotton curtain that hung under the old-fashioned sink. “And I assume this is where you keep the piping?” He shot her a questioning glance.
Carly stared at him. Was he serious? “Yes, it helps to have the pipes attached to the sink.”
Larry offered a silly grin. “Gotcha! That’s just a little plumber’s joke.”
“You’re hysterical, Larry.” She forced a smile. “Well, then. I’ll just leave you to your work. I’ll be in the dining room if you need me. I have a few calls to make.”
Carly grabbed her list, a phone book from the counter, and a Diet Coke from the fridge. She checked on Rags in the pantry. The poor fellow lay sound asleep again. He hadn’t even heard, nor stirred, when Larry entered their home. Carly studied him sadly. Rags’s watchdog days were certainly over.
Items in hand, she cautiously made her way into the dining room, examining the walls for any acrobatic arachnids. She was surprised and relieved to find them gone. She glanced up at the ceiling. One little brown guy scurried away from the chandelier. Carly waited a moment to see if he had a few friends in tow, but the lone spider was all she saw. Satisfied, she pulled out a dining room chair and sat.
Next she perused the phone book for an exterminator, only to find at least fifteen listed in the Lake Della area alone. She didn’t know her Jacks from her Johns in this town anymore; how could she possibly pick one exterminator from this many? The decision intensified her migraine, so she decided to hire the first bug catcher who could arrive tomorrow. As she reached for the phone from the nearby credenza, the hair on her arm suddenly stood on end as a rush of ice-cold air blasted her.
Where did that chill come from? She looked around, rubbing her arms for warmth. Perhaps the house held a draft she wasn’t aware of? Carly’s anger rose at the thought. Just what she didn’t need, another problem with the house! But how could there be a draft when it was already eighty degrees outside? Carly glanced out the window. The trees lining the dusty road stood as motionless as a still life picture. She looked behind her into the formal sitting room where an air conditioner sat in the window. She hadn’t turned it on.
The cold air dissipated as quickly as it arrived.
Maybe I’m getting sick? Carly shrugged and returned to her search.
We Put the Pest to Rest! Carly laughed at the slogan for the first exterminator listed. As she reached for the phone, her senses warmed to the scent of vanilla. Vanilla? Carly glanced out the window. Perhaps a neighbor was baking? In this heat? They’d have to be crazy. She sat confused. She eyed her Diet Coke can. Nope, straight Diet Coke, not Vanilla Diet Coke, which really would have been weird since she never bought that flavor. Okay, maybe this was one of those auras she knew happened before people suffered a seizure? She sat still and waited to fall writhing on the ground. Nothing. And then, the scent simply vanished.
The shrill ring of the phone caused Carly to nearly jump out of her skin. Her greeting was met by a young, high-pitched woman’s voice. “Carly? Carly? Is that really you?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“It’s Sunny! I heard you were back in town! Don’t you remember me? Sunny Willoughby from Della High? We were on the track team!”
Sunny Willoughby. The name rang a bell, in fact, lots of bells. Warning bells.
“Oh yes, I remember you. But I don’t remember you on the track team. I thought you were a cheerleader.”
“Oh, yeah, well,” Sunny laughed. “I did cheerlead. Close enough right?”
“Umm...okay.” Carly wondered which was stranger - her first and worst high school date fixing her plumbing, or this former Malibu Barbie clone calling on the phone. “What can I do for you, Bar-, I mean, Sunny.”
“Well, I heard, via my parents, who heard via your parents, that you were back home and I remember how we used to hang out.”
“We did?”
“Oh...we didn’t?” Sunny sounded truly disappointed, but only for a moment. “I had so many friends back then, I get them all mixed up. Anyhow, I was just thinking that if you’re looking for a friend, well, I’m your gal! I’d be happy to show you around town.”
“Well, Sunny. I grew up here, remember?” Carly tried to sound pleasant, but it took every ounce of unfueled strength she possessed. “I pretty much know the town.”
Sunny was not to be deterred. Her voice fired a rapid soprano into Carly’s ear. “Well then, let’s go shopping sometime! Or we can go out to a movie. Or there’s a great bar where the guys hang out called The Second Wind and....oh dear...you are single right? I mean, I thought your parents told my parents you’re back ‘cause some doctor guy dumped you and-”
Carly’s head began to throb again. No way was she about to discuss her love life, or rather, lack there of, with anyone, especially not this Sunny Willoughby who she had not run track with. “Look, Sunny,” she began, but a loud crash, a yell from Larry in the kitchen and some whimpering from Rags saved her from speaking her mind. “Hang on a minute-”
Carly put the receiver on the table and hurried into the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway. Larry stood with his back to the sink, soaked from head to foot, a puddle of water collecting around his tattered gym shoes. Rags whimpered in the pantry doorway, his gazed fixed on the wall across from Larry.
“What happened?” Carly asked.
Larry turned a beet red face to her as he waved a fat finger. “Oh very funny. You know damn well what happened!”
“No, I don’t. I was on the phone!” Carly offered him a kitchen towel from the counter.
“Bull!” Larry grabbed the cloth from her and mopped his face and neck. “Now you look, lady! I’m working here. Maybe this is your way to get me to ask you out again-”
Carly’s eyes flew open wide. “Excuse me?”
“-but these little pranks you’re pullin’ while I’m trying to work just aren’t doing it for me, you know?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Carly shook her head in protest. Like she would ever go out with Larry again.
“Right. You didn’t come and tap me on the shoulder when I was under the sink and then run into the dining room while I unwedged myself?”
“No.”
“Oh right. And you didn’t grab my belt and yank it so hard I nearly puked?” Larry’s teeth chattered as he spoke.
“No, Larry, I didn’t!” Carly stared at him. She looked at Rags. Could he have been the culprit? No, Rags could barely sit on command let alone pull Larry by the belt.
“Well, it’s some trick spraying me with the nozzle and running back into the dining room! And what’s with turning the temperature down so far?” Larry looked at the puddle at his feet. “Trying to make an ice rink? I’m turnin’ blue here! And that flowery scent is too strong, overpowering man, makes me want to puke!”
Carly suddenly felt the same frosty chill as when she sat in the dining room. And Larry was right, the kitchen smelled like someone let a florist loose. What was that scent? Lavender?
“Look Larry, I don’t know what’s going on, but honestly, I’ve been on the phone. In fact, it’s Sunny Willoughby from high school I’m talking to, and if you don’t believe me, you can just pick up the phone and ask her yourself.”
Before Larry could answer, Rags began to bark at the wall. His fur stood on end as he lowered to his stomach and bared his teeth.
“What on earth?” Carly glanced at the wall but saw nothing unusual.
Before she could contemplate her canine further, the broken coffee pot sputtered, and shot coffee in all directions. Larry looked from Rags, to the blank wall, then to the coffee pot and finally back at Carly. His eyes grew wide as saucers. “There’s something strange going on in this house, man!”
He threw the towel down and grabbed up his tools, shoving them haphazardly into his toolbox. “I’m so outta here.” He made a dash for the door.
“Wait!” Carly flew after him, avoiding the puddle. “Is my sink fixed?”
Larry lost no time in flying across the porch, nearly busting down her screen door as he pushed it open, and yelled over her shoulder. “It’s fixed! I’ll send you the bill!”
Carly stood at the doorway as Larry threw his box into the truck, jumped in the driver’s seat and gunned the engine.
“What was wrong with the sink?” she yelled.
Larry shouted something out his window, but the squeal of his tires muffled the reply. He sped up the road in a trail of dust.
“Well,” Carly said. “Now there’s something you don’t see everyday. Larry Tatos running away from me!”
She shook her head as she walked back into the house. She glanced from the sink to the coffee pot, which seemed to have quieted down. And the lavender scent had vanished also. She scratched her aching head. What a strange morning. What a strange first impression to make on the old high school crowd. She could just hear Larry blabbing all over town that either her house was spooked or she hit on him or both. Well, it probably didn’t matter. She hadn’t made any old or new friends yet anyway. No one except maybe...
Sunny!
She hurried back toward the phone, glancing quickly at Rags who now lay resting in the pantry again.
Carly entered the dining room and froze.
The receiver was back on its cradle.