Digging Up Trouble

“Yes. It would have been beautiful. Will be beautiful. Of course I can finish the job.”

Even if Greta had known about the blackmail, I’d been paid for the job. And Noreen’s grief more than made me want to help any way I could. Beyond that, I thought of a mother’s love for her estranged daughter, of the gift she wanted to leave her.

And I thought of my mother, who had given me the gift of my bedroom while I could still thank her.

I wasn’t so mad about the bathroom anymore.

We talked about dates and settled on Thursday. I’d somehow make it work with everyone’s schedules, including Ignacio’s.

“Would you like to see the plans? For the yard?”

“I’d love to, but I’m at Greta’s cleaning things up.”

Perfect. “I can stop by. I don’t mind the trip out there.”

188

Heather Webber

“Really?”

“Really.”

I felt a little bad because I had ulterior motives, but there wasn’t enough guilt to change my mind.

I needed to talk to Dale Hathaway.

Hanging up, I took a long look at my design. It had a ways to go, but I already adored it.

Woof!

I jumped up, ran to my door, flung it open.

Woof, woof!

“I swear she smells you,” Kit said, holding a straining BeBe by a short leash.

“I do not have a B.O. problem.”

“Never said you did.”

“But—”

“Dogs have a great sense of smell. She just knows yours.”

“Oh.” I looked around. “Where’s Mrs. Krauss?”

“Who?”

“Brickhouse Krauss?”

His eyes widened. “What’s she doing here?” Kit had worked on Mrs. Krauss’s mini. I remembered how he’d slunk away when Mrs. Krauss starting yelling, leaving me to deal with her alone, the yellowbelly. I swear his scary image was all a facade.

“Working.”

He paled. “Here?”

“Tam hired her.”

BeBe whimpered. Giving in, I moved closer and let her slobber my hand.

“Nina, I don’t know—”

“She’s actually been . . . okay. It’ll be fine. And it’s just for a few months, until Tam is back.”

The phone rang and BeBe went crazy. Brickhouse came Digging Up Trouble

189

hurrying in the side door, carrying a trash can. BeBe worked herself into a frenzy.

Brickhouse glared at BeBe, pointed a finger. “Anschlag!”

BeBe stopped barking, cocked her head.

“Sitzen Sie!”

BeBe sat.

My jaw dropped.

Brickhouse answered the phone. “This is Taken by Sur -

prise, Garden Designs, Ursula speaking . . . Do you think that’s wise? Well, I don’t. You, young man, need to get your life in order. Prioritize. Make some hard decisions and stick to them.”

Kit’s mouth dropped open.

“See that you do,” Brickhouse said, then hung up.

“What?” she asked when she looked at us.

“Who was that?”