The Last Detail Page 6

Merit didn’t ridicule her, as she thought he might. He instead asked more about Fox Falls, and she found herself telling him about New Life Church and the community day care for both children and the elderly that Pete and Cherie had introduced. “They want to start a meal program. I never realized there were so many needy people in my own town. I volunteered.”

  Amalia sat back when their server brought their meal. “You know, other kids teased me in school, too. But not about my name. About my parents being so old, they were more like my grandparents.”

  Merit leaned over to clasp her hand. “We have some secrets in common, then. Let me offer thanks for the food, if that’s all right with you.”

  Amalia could hardly hear his gentle words for the electric snap up and down her arm from his touch. She stared at their joined hands even after he stopped speaking. He could have been praying in Nehrangesi for all she knew. She had never felt anything like this before, definitely not with Hudson. At his tug, she gasped and let go as if burned. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  SEVEN

  After reclaiming his hand, Merit wiggled his fingers under the table to dry his damp palm. With a slight tremble he took up a fork and dug into the stir-fry dish. The strange extra thump of his heart had to be from the climb up the hill. Focus. Get down to business. Be practical. For instance, be grateful Amalia chose a place like this to eat. He mentally counted the bills in his wallet, hoping he would not have to use the credit card. The mission board had given him permission to make use of it, but a dinner date didn’t sit well with his idea of a legitimate expense.

  A dinner date? Merit eyed the young woman across the table. He should tell her straight out he had no interest in any kind of relationship. Other than platonic, of course. He frowned. Or business. But that would be rude. Pete said she and the funeral guy were involved. No, be truthful. Merit knew they were together. Appalled, he couldn’t believe he had any feelings at all one way or the other. Two people he didn’t even know shared a romantic relationship. So? According to Pete, Hudson Demarest acted like a bully, though Pete hadn’t put it in those terms. Merit could tell what he’d meant. A bully frightened of losing the one thing he never questioned.

  So, how should he act on this…whatever they were doing together? What should he talk about? What, exactly, had he wanted to talk about when he first rang her doorbell? Ah, yes. Maybe… “I wondered—”

  “Are you—”

  Merit and Amalia spoke at the same time, then laughed together. Relieved, he waved his hand to indicate Amalia should go first.

  “Please,” Amalia said, “you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about, back at my house. Or did you tell me already?”

  Merit noted her flushed cheeks. She must have enjoyed the walk in the brisk air, too. “Pete said you could tell me about Uncle Bruce’s house. What will happen if it doesn’t sell? I understand it hasn’t been on the market that long.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Amalia wiped her mouth and leaned back against the banquette. “Bruce made some inquiries when he went to Piney Haven. Werner told me he didn’t want to make a long-term commitment. The market is down right now. Houses like that need a lot of love. Maybe you should consider converting it to apartments. We could hire someone to oversee the rentals and upkeep.”

  “No.” Merit didn’t even hesitate. “I don’t want, nor can I be, a long-distance landlord, nor do Prudence and Tom want that. I don’t need any entanglements back here, or anywhere. I can’t afford to be distracted from my work. Not even by family.” He dug into the cooling food. After a moment he noticed Amalia had stopped pushing the food around her own plate. “Is your dinner okay?”

  Amalia’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, fine. Sorry.”

  He hoped he hadn’t offended her with his frank talk, but he needed to draw a line, if only for himself. Time to change the subject. “Pete had this wild suggestion this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “He thought maybe I could stay there for a while. I might be stuck in the States as long as six months. I checked out the clinic here, and they offer the physical therapy I need. I—I don’t want to make a pest of myself by asking friends and my sister for housing all of the time.” Merit glanced across the table this time to find her enigmatic eyes fixed on him. He felt off-balance for a second, as though he stood on the edge of the ravine behind the clinic in Nehrangestan that framed the valley.

  “Werner said that a house sells better if someone is living there.” Amalia bit the corner of her lip, a gesture Merit found endearing. “Potential customers prefer to move in if a house feels more like a home. My friend Jordyn helps me do what we call staging, which is making a house look lived-in, though it’s nothing like being homey.”

  “Well, I don’t know how much a traveling bachelor can make Bruce’s house look like a home.”

  Amalia’s dark blue eyes sparkled. “We could find you some furniture and a refrigerator. Not all the burners work on the stove, but that shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. I have a cleaning crew coming in soon. There’s some money in an escrow account to cover taxes. We can stretch it for…what’s the matter?”

  Merit gave in to laughter. “You really do know how to take care of details, don’t you?”

  Amalia raised her water glass. “That’s what they pay me for.”

  * * *

  That evening, back in the chilly motel room, Merit reexamined the uncomfortable sensation that lingered long after Amalia’s remark. If he had to put a name to it, he’d have to call it jealousy. He had been caught up in Amalia’s enthusiasm to move into Bruce’s house and taken her description of their relationship personally. When she innocently reminded him of his status –that of a client—his stomach clenched. Yes, just a client to a woman who had been kind enough to help his family. A woman most likely promised to another man. And that’s when the jealousy over her relationship to another man hit him. Merit didn’t like that at all.

  No entanglements…that’s what he promised God.

  Maybe he shouldn’t stay in Illinois after all. Pru could help him decide. He pulled out the tiny cell phone thing the mission board in New York let him use while on home assignment. He frowned at it, trying to remember the instructions. Ah, yes. A button called “contacts.”

  He scrolled down a couple of numbers and names until he came to Dayton.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Pru, it’s me, Merit.”

  “Brother. Where are you? How are you?” A loud crash in the background made Merit jump. “Just a sec.” A muffled shout later, “Sorry, the kids are chasing the dog. So, what’s going on?”

  “I’m still in Fox Falls. I’ve been invited to speak about the mission field, so I’m going to hang out for a while, but I have something I want to talk to you about. I went to Uncle Bruce’s house today. Remember when Justice broke his arm on the banister?”

  “Dad was pretty annoyed.”

  “Yeah. He said that he never broke his arm all the times he slid down.”

  Pru chuckled.

  “I don’t recall Uncle Bruce having a dog.”

  “Not when we were visiting him. Maybe later. Why?”

  “There’s an old doghouse in the yard.” They chatted about their memories of Uncle Bruce’s house. “So, anyway, Sis, I wondered…it wouldn’t be right for me to stay here, would it?”

  “That’s a great idea. Oops. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I want you with us. I hope I haven’t given you the impression that you’re imposing.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “Good. Everyone says a house that looks lived in is easier to sell. But…I hear you hesitating. What’s the matter, no heat?”

  Too much heat. Trust Pru to recognize that. “Not exactly.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  Merit let himself plop back on the hotel bed with a sigh. “I don’t know what to say. This shouldn’t even be happening.”

  “You met someone.”

  “How ca
n you tell? And no, not really.”

  “Ha. My sisterly intuition knows all. Had to happen sometime. Who is she? What’s she like? You must have fallen fast and hard, buddy. You’ve only been there three days.”

  “I haven’t fallen.” Merit sat up again and then wandered to look out the window. He sniffed. The drapes smelled of cigarette smoke. He wrinkled his nose and moved away. “Besides, she’s in a relationship. At least, that’s what Pete Thompson says.”

  “Who is she? Someone I know?”

  Merit detected a faint tinge of exasperation in his sister’s voice and grinned. “That woman from the business, you know, that you hired to take care of Uncle Bruce’s business.”

  Silence.

  “Pru?” Merit took the phone away from his ear and shook it. Hmm…still lit. “Pru?”

  “Sorry. I’m not surprised. And, well, I don’t blame you. She looked gorgeous to me, and I had to pinch Tom a couple of times, too, to stop him from staring. I assumed she and the funeral director were married, although neither of them had rings.”

  “You looked?”

  She snorted. “Of course.” Another muffled crash sounded in the background. “Hey, I hafta go. The kids are nuts for some reason tonight, and Tom’s out at the fire department class. You know you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you want, but I think moving into Uncle Bruce’s house is a good idea. You won’t get much rest here.”

  “I have to come back and pick up some things soon, so we’ll talk more then.”

  “Sounds good, just say when. Gotta go, love you, bye.”

  Merit clicked the red button. Or should he have…no, the lights went out. He plopped on the bed again. Pru was up to something, he could tell. How much should he let it bother him? Maybe staying here in Fox Falls would be a good test of his character. He chided himself for his foolish thoughts. Ignoring the television, he hauled out some Nehrangese language tapes. If he could lose himself in his ministry, there’d be no time for temptation, right? Nothing would sidetrack his devotion to the work of God. Tomorrow he would arrange to meet with the realty company and figure out what to do from there.

  * * *

  The next morning, Werner proved so amenable to the suggestion he handed the keys over immediately. Merit had to promise he would vacate the premises when notified of an impending showing to prospective buyers. And keep it neatly picked up. He could do that—at least, with all the time on his hands, and not much to pick up.

  Upon arrival at the house, he opened all the windows that weren’t nailed or painted shut or missing screens.

  By the afternoon, Pete and Cherie came to deliver a borrowed truck full of furniture to Sebastian Lane. Merit’s head spun with the swiftness of the turn of events. “Wow. How’d you get all this so quickly?”

  Pete hauled in boxes, huffing in between trips. “I had Mrs. Field make a few calls, and the rest we got from Twice as Nice, the resale shop.”

  “Amalia threw in some linens, sheets, and towels and stuff,” Cherie said. “Did you choose a bedroom? Where are we going?” Merit helped Cherie heave a metal, double-bed frame up the stairs. Bending to slide the pieces together stretched his physical limits, though he happily noted he could crouch more easily than even two weeks ago. Small thanks, but appreciated ones. He and Pete carried the box spring and mattress up next, while Cherie brought up a lamp, then started filling a bookcase in the room.

  In his huge, bare-floored, square bedroom, Merit stared at the bed and held the striped sheets and forest green blanket in his hands while trying not to think of Amalia searching through her closets at home to find spares to give. Had she picked these out on purpose, or were they the first thing she grabbed?

  “Forget how to make a bed?” Cherie teased. She caught the other ends of the sheet Merit spread wide to smooth them over the mattress.

  “Uncle Bruce must have liked linoleum,” Merit commented and gestured at the floor. “What do you think is underneath?”

  Cherie toed a corner. “Hmm, probably pine boards, or something. The next owner will have a field day renovating. I put some dishes in your pantry and brought you a broom and vacuum. I saw a box with some cleaning supplies, too. Do you want me to help you clean up a little? The windows are pretty spotty.”

  “I noticed. Thank you for the offer, but I think I can handle washing a window.” Merit accompanied Cherie down to the living room. “You’ve done too much already, Cherie. I’ve got time, and it will be good for me to, ah, bond with the place.” He turned in a slow circle, really looking at the plaster walls and high ceilings for the first time. A torn shade hung lopsided in one of the triple front windows. “I’ll take my time. It will be good exercise for me.”

  “Do you need a phone hookup?” Pete asked before he and Cherie left.

  Merit shook his head. “No, I think I’ll be all right. I’ve got this thing….” He hunted in his pockets. “Well, wherever it ended up. Cell phone. And I can check the Internet at the library or somewhere, can’t I?”

  “Sure. Or just drop in on me at New Life. You’re all set to go to Prudence’s, then come back?”

  Cherie’s arms appeared in front of her husband, and wrapped around his waist. She stuck her head out from behind him. “I’m taking him to the depot, remember? Come on. Mrs. Ward will never want to watch the kids again if we don’t get home soon.”

  Pete pulled his wife around him and kissed her head. “Right. Date’s over.”

  They shook hands and left Merit. Alone. In a great big house in a strange little town. A strange country, for that matter. He had only been home for visa updates and reports in the last six years. The vision of Pete’s wife hugging him made Merit wonder what it felt like to have…he blinked to clear his head. Now what? His stomach grumbled. He could start with food.

  In the lofty kitchen, he opened scuffed white bead-board cupboard doors until he found where Cherie had stashed a supply of boxes and cans. Merit examined the cans carefully, lips twitching at the name on a red and white label, and finally settled on minestrone soup. He tested the elements on the ancient electric stove to see which two functioned, then pulled out the elements of the non-working ones to remind himself later not to try them.

  He took the heated bowlful of soup out to the front porch and sat on the wide, painted front steps, eating and watching for any signs of neighbors. This little street of Fox Falls seemed remarkably quiet. Merit set the empty bowl aside and leaned back on his elbows, contemplating a visit to the house on either side of him when a dark, luxury automobile stopped at the curb. Merit tensed when the driver exited the car. Pretty big guy, dark hair. Fussy trimmed beard. The man stood, hands on hips, looking everywhere but at Merit. Letting him know whose territory he’d invaded.

  Acting as if he’d come to size Merit up.

  Merit decided on a preemptive maneuver and stood. “Hello.” He walked down the three steps of the front porch, hand held out. “I’m Merit Campbell. Can I help you?”

  “Hudson Demarest, of Demarest Funeral and Cremation Services.”

  Bingo. Automatic good manners demanded the other man to reach back, but didn’t keep him from nearly crushing Merit’s knuckles. Merit forced himself to keep a bland expression. Mountain tribesmen often presented little tests like this to measure another’s character.

  Merit extracted his hand. “Yes. What can I do for you? Are you perhaps interested in the house? It’s still for sale.”

  Demarest automatically flicked a glance over the “For Sale” sign in the front yard and glanced up the two and a half stories to the square roof of the white mansion. “No, not interested. I attend New Life. I thought I should meet Bruce Campbell’s great-nephew.”

  Merit nodded, leaving his eyes locked with Demarest’s. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You look like you’re moving in.”

  “For the time being. I need a headquarters, base camp, so to speak, for the next few months until I can return to the mission field where I work. I believe you took care of my uncle’s fun
eral. Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome. So, you'll go back to that foreign place soon?”

  Merit could not figure out Demarest’s path of reasoning, but thought he knew the destination. Somehow, Amalia’s name would come up. Merit wanted to reassure Demarest that he had no misconceptions in that department, but Demarest’s confrontational manner annoyed him.

  “To my work in Nehrangestan, yes.” Merit quickly took stock of the other man. “Would you like to come in and hear more about the clinic? I’m afraid I haven’t gotten much unpacked yet.”

  “No. Thank you. You shouldn’t burden the church like this, you know. You say you’ll be gone again in a few months. We have precious few enough resources for the folks who really do need it. People who live here, in my country, the U S of A.”

  Okay, Merit had not expected that. How should he handle the next move? Confront? Parry? Retreat? Merit narrowed his eyes and debated what to say when another car pulled up and stopped behind the big one. Demarest turned an intriguing shade of eggplant as Amalia approached them. The man’s color definitely did not project a healthy picture. Merit didn’t want to even guess at his blood pressure.

  Amalia, dressed in a dark-colored skirt and jacket, clicked on high heels to join them on the sidewalk. She looked as though she had come from a power lunch. “Hudson? What are you doing here?”

  Demarest snagged her tiny waist with a beefy paw. He shot Merit a “mine” look. “Just welcoming Mr. Campbell to the neighborhood, my dear. How did your talk go?”

  Amalia wriggled like a fish on a hook until Demarest let her go. “Fine. I stopped to see Mr. Campbell. Pastor Thompson told me earlier that he and Cherie would help find some furniture and other bits to outfit his stay.” She finally turned her attention to Merit. “How are you, Merit? Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Merit unclenched his fists. “I really haven’t had time to get organized, Miss Kennedy. But the sheets and blankets you picked out are great.”

  When Demarest sputtered and choked, Merit almost felt sorry for his petty comment.