Hours later, Marla dropped Pete and Rosalie off at Starbucks where they’d left their car. “See you in the morning?” she asked.
“We’ll go over all the details this evening.” Pete nodded. “We’re prepared to make an offer once we decide.”
Marla flashed a bright, confident smile. “If you need any other information or have questions, please feel free to call me at any hour. You have my cell number and it’s always on.”
The couple nodded and waved when they reached their car.
Marla’s cell phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. Mother, blinked the caller ID. “Hi, Sil. How’s tricks?”
“What am I going to do with your father, Marla? The man is impossible. I can’t take it anymore.”
Marla had heard these words often for the last quarter century. Somehow her mother had managed to “take it,” whatever the crisis de jour happened to be.
“What’s he done now, Mom?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just about to explode this time.”
“Shall I hang up then?”
“No! I need your help. Why would you hang up on me?”
“Sil, you just told me you didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Never mind what I said. You’re as bad as Bradley. I don’t know why you didn’t take after my side of the family.”
Thank the angels for that.
“Are you going to tell me what Dadley’s done that’s so impossible? Or are we going to go around in circles, Mom?” Marla immediately regretted her words when she heard what sounded like a sob on the other end of the line. “Mom? Talk to me.”
“Charlene just got here. Can you come over?”
“Char’s there? Why?”
“I called her.”
“Isn’t she supposed to be at work?”
“She doesn’t work on Saturday, Marla. Do you think I’d call her from work?”
As you’ve done so many times in the past? It was a wonder Charlene could hold onto a job, as often as Silvia called her with some kind of trivial crisis. “I’m on my way. The sun’s over the yardarm so have an early cocktail and relax. I’ll be about ten minutes.”
The minute she pulled in the driveway, Charlene stormed out the front door of their parents’ house, her scowl black as the clouds of a pending thunderstorm.
Marla set the brake and stepped out of her car. “What’s the matter?” Maybe it was something serious this time. Her neck prickled.
“I am so mad at you I could spit! This time you’ve gone too far, Marla. You’ve ruined everything.”
Marla took a step back. She’d never seen Char so angry. “What have I ruined? What have I done? You’re scaring me.”
“You told Dadley about the surprise party the boys and I are planning for his birthday, that’s what. Now Silvia is a basket case because he told her he wouldn’t show up unless Johnny and his wife were both invited.”
A sigh of relief preceded Marla’s response. “Great Caesar’s goat, is that all?”
Slamming her hands on her hips, Charlene stared, eyes agog. “Is that all? You’ve ruined the surprise.”
“In case you don’t remember, our father hates surprise parties and John Dempsey is his best friend.”
“He always has a great time. What are you talking about?”
“That’s because I tell him in advance about the surprise party so he won’t be surprised. You are clueless, Charlene. You and Sil both. You scared the daylights out of me. I thought there was a real emergency.”
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. “I have to take this. It’s an important client.”
“More important than your family?”
“In this case that would be a big yes.” Marla turned and placed the phone to her ear. “Marla Danaher. Yes. That’s great, Mr. Wyland! I’ll be right over. Thanks for calling.” She switched off the phone. “I have to go close a big deal. I’ll come over later and we can sort through this. In the meantime pour a few martinis down Mom’s throat.”
Charlene sputtered and waved her hands as Marla backed out and headed for the motel to meet her clients. She did a quick mental check of her portfolio. The offer forms were there. She remembered being afraid she might jinx the sale if she put them in with the other papers before she met with the couple this morning. A smile grew on her face with every mile she drove. She could see that big fat commission check now.
Poor Skipper. I’m so late tonight.
Turning into the parking lot of the Grove Motel, Marla spotted a pickup truck that looked familiar. As she got closer, the sign on the side, Big D Construction confirmed it. What in the world would Dwayne be doing here?
Portfolio in hand, she found Room 14 and tapped on the door. It immediately swung open to reveal Dwayne with a big grin on his face.
“Hey, Red, come on in.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the small sitting area. Pete and Rosalie Wyland were seated at the table. An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and five glasses sat in the center. Marla recognized Dwayne’s little girl who sat crossed-legged on the bed fully absorbed by a Cinderella DVD.
Feeling like she’d entered another dimension, totally confused, Marla sputtered, “What…you…why are you here?”
His big hand on her back, he directed her to the table. “Rosie is my cousin. They’re relocating here so she can take over the interior design department at Dylan’s furniture business. The name change to Spring Grove Furniture and Design will be announced any day.”
Pete stood and pulled out a chair. “Dwayne came over to help us decide. Let’s get to the paperwork and have a glass of champagne.”
Dwayne’s daughter glanced at the table and asked, “Do I get some champagne, Daddy?”
“Got ours right here, Amber.” He tapped a can of soda. “Soon as we’re done with business.” He patted her head and took the empty chair between Marla and Rosalie.
Not sure whether to be miffed, Marla said, “Why didn’t you tell me the Wylands were your cousins, Dempsey?”
“I dunno, I suppose I thought it would
