Page 32 of The Party Line

I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” Of all the people breathing the air on this earth, he was the last person I wanted to talk to. I was furious with him for jerking me out of Aunt Gracie’s past and into the present.

“That’s all right, darlin’. We can remedy that, starting with dinner tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven, and we’ll come back here to the ranch for grilled steaks. How do you like yours cooked?”

“I have already made other plans for tonight, Derrick,” I said through clenched teeth. I was starting to get why Gina had reacted the way she did.

“So, you are seeing someone else?” he asked.

“That is none of your business. Just know that I don’t want to spend time with you.”

Mama said that a person could catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but I wasn’t interested in catching bugs of any kind.

He laughed softly. “Your loss, darlin’, but I intend to change your mind.”

“Don’t waste your time,” I snapped.

“I like a woman with a little spirit,” he said.

“And for the last time, my property is not for sale,” I told him.

“Well, if it ever is, I’ve got first dibs on it,” he said. “I’ll top any other offer you might get.”

“Goodbye, Derrick,” I said as I ended the call.

I fumed as I picked up the last outfit—the red pantsuit—and folded it.Red for independenceis what Aunt Gracie had written. I’d always heard that red-haired women should wear greens or the jeweltones of autumn, but I was buying something red the next time I went shopping.

I left the bedroom with the container and padded barefoot down the hall toward the door with the steps leading up to the attic—the place where spiders and other bugs lived. Aunt Gracie had an exterminator come every few months and take care of all things creepy and crawly. He always started up there in that dark place and worked his way down to the basement.

Please let him have been here recently,I prayed silently as I climbed up. But if there was an eight-legged critter, it must have been hiding in a far corner, because I didn’t even see a web anywhere. The whole area was covered with dust, but there weren’t any little mouse tracks on the top of the old steamer trunks or the little rocking horse in the corner. Evidently, the exterminator was still doing a good job.

“I should have at least put on a pair of flip-flops or socks,” I muttered. “I’m going to have to wash my feet when I leave here, or I’ll track dust everywhere I go.”

I had always been more than a little bit terrified of the place, and I’d only gone up there one time during my great Ditto ghost-hunting days. That morning, I’d found a spider the size of a saucer—if I’m lyin’, I’m flyin’, and my feet ain’t left the ground—sitting on the little wooden horse. I took it as an omen that the evil thing was protecting the ghosts that lived in the attic, or else it was scaring them away. Either way, it could have the whole place to itself—at least until the man came with the spray gun that would send him to wherever dead bugs go when they are poisoned, stomped, or hit with a flyswatter or shoe.

I set the container beside the dollhouse that Aunt Gracie would bring to the dining room and let me play with when I was a little girl. It was a replica of this house, right down to the wallpaper and the tiny furniture—all but the attic, which was totally empty.

“My mama had that made for my birthday when I was six,” Aunt Gracie had told me with a smile. “I loved the times when she would sit on the floor and play with me.”

“Why don’t she live here anymore?” I remembered asking.

“That’s a long story for another day,” she had said. Then she’d sat down beside me, and we played for at least an hour.

I picked up the little sofa, which must have looked like the one that had been in the house in the thirties. Had Gracie giggled when she’d looked at the furniture in the living room during those days and then back at her own little house? Or did she want to rip off the blue velvet upholstery and replace it with red? I had put the tiny piece back in its place and turned to walk away when I stubbed my toe on the edge of an old steamer trunk. I sat down with such force that dust boiled up all around me. I sneezed three times in a row and pulled an old tissue from my pocket. I’d already used it a couple of times to wipe tears from my eyes, but it came in handy once more.

“What is the matter with me?” I groaned. “Weeping at notes, stumbling around like I’m tipsy on tequila shots ... Are the ghosts in this house turning me into a blubbering fool?”

I slapped the trunk with an open hand, and more dust flew around me. When I stopped coughing, I noticed a small handwritten sign taped to the top of the trunk: KEEP OUT!THIS BELONGS TOMARYGRACEEVANS.

The handwriting was in block letters and was definitely that of a child. The hinges creaked when I opened the chest. The guilt for prying into something that definitely said to keep out didn’t keep me from peeking inside. As I picked up a yellowed piece of paper and then another, I wondered if Gracie’s mama had stuck things to the fridge with magnets. Maybe that was too low class for them to have even considered. From what Jasper had told me and what I’d pieced together from things I’d learned, her parents were bougie.

But then, on the other hand, her mother had taken the time to play with her when she was a little girl. Maybe when Aunt Gracie had gotten too old to have her work put on the refrigerator, her mama stored all those things in the small trunk and put it in the attic. I could picture a little girl with dark brown braids finding it in the attic and writing thatlittle note—maybe for the exterminator, so he wouldn’t open it up and ruin everything with the spray.

From her report cards, it was apparent that she was a brilliant student—all As on every one, not a single B. She could have easily gone to college with those grades. I made a mental note to ask Jasper why she hadn’t furthered her education. Had she wanted to be a teacher or maybe even a doctor? Why hadn’t I ever asked her to tell me more about her life while she was still with us?

My phone rang and startled me so badly that I dropped one of her report cards on the floor. I slipped the phone out of my back pocket and said, “Hello, Mama.”

“Do you think you could come over here ... like right now?” she asked.

I picked up the card, blew the dust off, and gently laid it back in the trunk. “Sure, but what’s the hurry?”

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