hand to her chest. “Those shows scare the livin’ daylights out of me.” She stopped, glanced around. “You don’t think there are actual ghosts here, do you?”
“Yeah, I do,” Garrett lied since it seemed like something to get her moving out of there.
But Loretta didn’t budge, and she smiled again. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you, boy?” And she just kept on talking. “Your grandma and I went to school together back in the day, but I moved to Beaumont when you and your siblings were just little bitty things. You’re Roman, aren’t you? Even when you were her age—” she bobbed her head to the little girl “—you always looked ready to pick a fight. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve done your share of fighting.”
“I’m Garrett,” he corrected.
“Oh.”
That one little word said it all. Loretta Cunningham knew about the divorce. But she probably knew a lot more than that. Maybe about the baby they’d lost. But more likely her suddenly red cheeks were because she’d heard about his ex-wife’s blow job in the VW. Had perhaps even seen the video. Apparently, she’d also seen the fight-picking expression on his face and had mistaken it for Roman’s.
The little girl let go of him again and took off running up the back stairs. Good. Because Garrett was about to get blunt with Loretta, and it was best if the little ears weren’t around for that.
“Who owns the pink tow truck and the SUV?” Garrett asked.
Loretta gave him a “what tow truck and SUV?” look before she snapped her fingers. “Oh, those. It’s Mrs. Marlow’s SUV. Cancer,” she added in a whisper. “And the pink truck belongs to Lady Romero. Drug overdose,” she added in another whisper. “That’s not Lady’s real name, hair color or bosom, by the way, but I don’t make judgments about such things.”
She also didn’t make sense. Why had she added cancer and drug overdose in there as if it were necessary to this very confusing conversation? Apparently, questions weren’t getting what he needed from her ramblings so Garrett tried a different approach.
“I’m sorry, but you have to leave,” Garrett came right out and told her. “This is pasture land, Granger land,” he added, “and tomorrow there’ll be a work crew all around this place. It won’t be safe for you or the little girl.”
Loretta made another “oh.” Then, paused. “Didn’t your mother tell you?”
That was not a good start to an explanation. Any explanation. His mother, Belle, had some good qualities, if he graded on a curve and added bonus points for her giving birth to him, but good communication wasn’t one of Belle’s better skills.
“Tell me what?” Garrett demanded.
“Oh, dear.” Loretta did another hand press to her heart. “Your mother said we could stay here.”
“It’s not her place to do that.” Actually, it wasn’t Garrett’s, either. Not legally anyway, since Roman owned the ranch. But since Roman had no interest in anything to do with this ranch or the family, he left decisions like that to Garrett. Besides, Roman had his own business to run.
Garrett took out his phone to try to call his mother again and then cursed when he saw he was in another of those dead zones. “How long did my mother say you could stay here?”
“I’m not sure,” Loretta answered. “Maybe you can speak to Mrs. Marlow about that. She’s the one who talked to your mother. She’s upstairs.”
Maybe she was the cobweb duster. One with perhaps cancer. And Garrett would deal with her soon enough, but he held out hope that Loretta could give him some real information just in case this Mrs. Marlow turned out to be a tight-lipped scurrier like the women outside.
Garrett went with his next questions. “Who are you people anyway? Why would my mother have said you could stay here? And why the heck would you want to be here of all places?”
Loretta’s mouth moved, repeating those three questions, and she held up her fingers one by one as she went through them. “We’re friends. Because Belle’s doing us a favor. And because it was big enough for all of us.”
Well, they were answers. Sort of. But not the answers he wanted.
“Are you sure you’re not Roman?” Loretta continued. “Because you look like you’re ready to pick a fight again.”
“I am ready to do that,” he snarled. Then, he huffed and silently cursed. Being a badass was his brother’s specialty. He was actually a nice guy. Most days anyway, but this didn’t feel like most days.
“Look, Loretta, there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said. “One that I’m certain we can all work out. But trust me when I say that you can’t stay here. The work crew will have some big equipment, including a bulldozer. It’s not safe,” he repeated.
“You’re sure?” Loretta called out to him as he started for the stairs.
“Positive,” he assured her and kept on walking. Then, paused. “Is this Mrs. Marlow well enough to talk? I mean, she’s not bedridden, is she?”
“Lordy, no. Why would she be bedridden?” Loretta patted her chest again. “You think she’s sick?”
Yeah, he had thought that. After all, Loretta had mentioned cancer, but perhaps she’d been talking about Mrs. Marlow’s astrological sign.
The second floor was right out of a class project for a horror movie. A long, dark hall with a creaky floor, complete with burned-out wall lights and old paintings that were tilted and bowed enough to send OCD folks into a panic attack. He followed the hall to the room where he’d seen the woman in the window earlier.
Not there.
“Mrs. Marlow?” he called out.
Nothing. Well, not a voice anyway, but his phone rang, and he saw his sister’s name on the screen.
“Sorry, I was out riding, and I just now got your voice mail,” Sophie said the moment Garrett answered. “Are there really squatters at Z.T.’s house?”
“I’m not sure who they are, but one of them said Mom gave her permission to be here. You know anything about that?”
“No. Why would she do that? And why would anyone want to stay at that place anyway?”
“I asked first. Where’s Mom?”
“In the family room.” It wasn’t the best of connections, and there was plenty of static on the line. “I’m pretty sure she’s eating lunch and watching her soap.”
Which meant she had turned off her phone or else had the TV volume cranked so high that she hadn’t heard it ring. Of course, the third possibility was that she was avoiding him because she knew he’d be pissed about this.
“Can you go to her right now and ask her what the hell is going on?” He added some profanity to that.
“I will, but I’ll leave out all the language that’ll make her lecture you at her earliest convenience. Hold on. I’m heading to the family room now.” At least he thought that’s
