THERE is a moment when you know that your day has gone down the toilet. Mine was before lunch, and after my fourth cup of coffee, when an unexpected knock on my front door brought me face-to-face with my ex-husband.
Not that he was a horrible troll, or lying in wait to machete me in a weak moment, but he just wasn’t one to just drop by and say hello. Which was good with me. Child support and visitations came to a legal end three years prior, so daddy-pick-ups were off the table. So I stood in the doorway, self-consciously running a hand through my unbrushed hair and then crossing my arms over my chest to disguise the no-bra action I had going on.
He gave me a once-over and frowned. “Are you sick?”
I started to protest that not having to get dressed was a perk of working from home, that until someone wanted to look at a house, talking to potential clients on the phone didn’t require me to brush my hair or put on shoes. But I didn’t feel like having that long a conversation with him. So I fake-coughed into my hand.
He shrugged, “I was wondering how much she’s selling it for.”
I blinked a few times, thinking I’d missed something. “Um—she, who?”
He tilted his head with widened eyes like he was humoring me. “Your mother?”
I opened my mouth, but just air came out. Maybe it was the coffee. Maybe I needed to eat something or go for a walk. Use the treadmill that was collecting dust in a corner of my office.
I shook my head. “I—I give up, Kevin. What about my mother?”
“Her house, Emily,” he said, impatience lacing his tone. “How much is she selling her house for?”
I laughed then, which I knew would piss him off. “Selling her house? What kind of crack are you smoking?”
My mother would sooner sell one of us than sell that house. She and my dad lived in it their whole married life. Raised two kids there, multiple dogs, a couple of birds, and I think there was even a brief stint with a ferret. She didn’t leave after my dad died in the living room, and if anything could have shoved her out, it would have been that.
Kevin’s dark blue eyes glazed over at my comment. He held his hands up in front of him and shook his head as he turned. “Never mind. I forgot how crazy y’all are.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait,” I said, still laughing. “What are you babbling about?”
He took the steps two at a time, and waved a hand behind him. “Never mind, Em. I’ll just call Dedra. That’s who it’s listed with, right?”
My smile started to fade, and I felt it stick at the confusion point. Something was off. Something didn’t make sense. Starting with him saying that sentence.
“Dedra?” I said. “What are you talking about?” My tone combined with her name was enough to tweak his attention because it turned him around. His expression changed to wary and unsure.
“Your mom’s house? It’s for sale with her.” He looked uncomfortable and pointed randomly at the air behind him as if to prove it. “I had nothing to do with it. It’s on the sign; I passed it this morning on my way out.”
Another leftover piece of a laugh kind of popped out, but with much less confidence. I shook my head as I turned around, knowing he’d follow me.
“That’s crazy,” I said. “Has to be a joke or something. I just had lunch with my mom last week. I mean, come on. Don’t you think she’d have mentioned that? She talked about her garden.”
I landed back on the squeaky swivel chair in my office, as Kevin found a spot on the couch among scattered manila folders. He moved a few aside, turning one over to read the name.
“829 Montgomery—why does that sound familiar?” he asked.
“It’s one street over from my mom’s,” I said, clicking through the links that would bring me to the multiple listing database. “And quit snooping, it’s not listed yet.”
“Oh yeah. The Landry place,” he said, and I ignored the snide change of tone.
“Yep.”
“Bobby’s finally unloading it, huh?”
I blinked and sighed and continued to ignore the shiny object he was dangling to get a rise out of me. “Guess so.”
“About time,” Kevin continued. “It’s been one strong breeze away from blowing over for years.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” I said, scoffing. “Just needs a little attention. Vacant houses get that way.”
“Well, I don’t blame him,” he said. “Ben left him high and dry with that place back when their mom died. Never even came back for the funeral.”
The old dig that used to stab me barely felt like a pinprick. “You don’t know that.”
“And you do?”
I cut my eyes at him. “This town can make a lot of noise when it wants to. You believe everything you hear?”
Kevin tossed the file over with the others, and I was grateful for the change. I watched him take in the overflowing bookshelf, the three different-colored jackets hanging on the treadmill, the row of file boxes stacked against one wall.
“I assume there’s a method, as usual?” he asked.
“Ha ha, very cute.”
In our thirteen years of marriage, he’d never learned to appreciate my version of décor or organization. Kevin preferred empty space. Like moving into a house with no stuff, kind of empty. No pictures, no decorations, no curtains, no coasters or vases or magazines. Give him a chair and a rug and a TV and he’s good. In fact, the rug would probably be pushing it.
“So, dating anybody?” he asked.
I hit a button and gave him a look. “Really?”
His face went all innocent. “What?”
“You really want to know about my love life?”
He looked away with a smile. “I want you to be happy, Em.”
I coughed again, this time for real. “So, what’s the deal?” I asked, changing the subject as I waited for the zip code filter to update. “You looking to move again? Sherry wanting to simplify and rub elbows with the common folk?”
He gave me a look and leaned back, his brown leather jacket making noise against the wannabe leather of my couch. “I’m thinking about buying some rental property.”
“Ah, you want to be a land baron now.”
“It’s easy money,” he said with a shrug.
“Not with old houses like—”
My words died on my tongue as the page populated, and there it was. Three listings down. A familiar address and equally familiar picture of my mother’s house. Listed by Dedra Powers.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I said under my breath, and I heard Kevin and his jacket sit forward.
“So, how much is it listed for?”
I tore my eyes from the screen to glare at him. “Seriously?”
He lifted a hand. “What?”
I swiveled around in my chair to find my phone, and leapt up to grab it off the top of my treadmill, hitting speed dial number two. Three rings led to voice mail and my mother’s voice telling me how sorry she was that she couldn’t answer my call.
“Mom!” I yelled, then bit my lip and let my mouth work for a second. “Mom?” I tried again. “Please call me.”
I hung up and stared at the listing again as I hit speed dial numbers one and three, both of which went to voice mail as well. “Jesus, where is everybody today?” I muttered as I tossed the phone to the couch next to Kevin and smiled not-so-patiently at him.
“I’ve gotta go change clothes and—interrogate my mother,” I said. “So—” I did a little hand flourish that I felt encouraged his exit.
“You didn’t know.”
“That’s pretty clear,” I said, not enjoying his smirk.
He stood up and leaned over to view the page on my laptop, which I then flipped closed.
“Ninety thousand,” he said, narrowing his eyes in that financial thinker’s expression of his, and I shook my head before another second could pass.
“No.”
He blinked and met my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, no,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on with this, but regardless, you aren’t buying it.”
“Why not?”
My head was spinning. I wanted answers and I wanted Kevin to be gone so I could go find them.
“Because.” He tilted his head again, and I made a sound of disgust. “God, you look like such a girl when you do that. Stop it.”
“You aren’t answering my question.”
“And I’m not going to right now,” I said, taking him by the arm and walking. “Come on. I have to leave. I have to get naked first. And unless Sherry-bom-Berry is okay with that, you probably shouldn’t be here when I do.”
We made it to the door and I pushed him gently out. Just as he turned back around. “Oh, I almost forgot. Do you know if Cassidy sent in any of those business school applications yet?”
I sighed and gave him a look as I slowly guided the door closed. “She’s twenty-one, Kevin. She doesn’t run her day by me anymore. Call her.”
“I have, and she doesn’t call me back.”
Shocking. “Gotta go.”