Chapter 6

"I'm home." Ramona sang automatically when she dropped her purse and keys on the sideboard in the hall.

"Hey!" came Robby's deep voice from the living room. She heard nothing from Debbie and assumed she must be in her room, or someplace it was hard to hear.

Ramona sought refuge in the rituals of preparing dinner for her family. The questions came back to her as she handled pots and pans and dishes.

"So" came the sudden voice of Debbie behind her. "How was work today?"

Ramona looked at her daughter, but didn't notice the tense set of Debbie's shoulders.

"Fine" she said automatically.

"Nothing ... interesting happened then?" pressed Debbie.

Ramona, thinking that finally she had something to talk about, said "Well, they gave me a new job. They put me in charge of taking care of all the financial documents associated with the renovation next door."

The silence this was met with penetrated Ramona's awareness. She'd forgotten how upset Debbie was about that renovation. She turned to see Debbie on the balls of her feet, leaning forward slightly.

"I know you don't like what's going on over there." said Ramona. "But what's happening is happening. Rob ... Mr. Nettleton has a lot of money in the bank, and they want to keep him happy as a customer."

Debbie had pushed intentionally, trying to get her mother to be forthcoming with information. It hadn't worked, but that misspoken name was something she could press.

"What does Robby have to do with that?" she asked.

"What?" asked Ramona, confused.

"You said Robby ... before you said Mister Nettleton. What does Robby have to do with that?"

Ramona was flustered. Debbie was acting almost hostile toward her. Surely she didn't blame her mother for being assigned to the Nettleton accounts.

"Robby doesn't have anything to do with it." she said guardedly. I don't think you heard me correctly."

"I think you need to tell me what's going on." said Debbie, her voice full of accusation and an authoritative tone.

Ramona, unused to her daughter taking that tone with her, and at the end of her emotional rope to begin with, snapped.

"No, Debbie, I think YOU need to tell ME what's going on! Why are you so intent that nothing should happen to that house? Why is it any of your BUSINESS what happens in that house? I want some answers young lady and I WANT THEM NOW!"

Ramona's face was red and puffy as she shouted. Debbie's face got that way almost instantly too. Both women started screaming at each other, their hands gesticulating wildly. Debbie screamed demands to know why Ramona had "done that" with that horrible man and why their mother was lying to them. Ramona screamed that she had happiness within her grasp and that it was obvious that Debbie didn't want her to have that. It was fortunate for both that they were yelling so loudly that neither could understand the other.

Robby appeared as if by magic between them, a hand held out palm first to each snarling woman.

"HEY ... HEY!!" he shouted, his voice drowning out both of them.

The women subsided, both panting, their faces remarkably similar in appearance, and not pleasant to look at, for all that each woman was normally beautiful.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT DOOR!" he shouted, to keep them from starting up again, but then dropped his voice. "Whatever it is, shouting at each other won't help anything."

He looked first at his sister and then turned his head to look at his mother, his hands still up.

"And whatever it is shouldn't come between us as a family." he said firmly. "Mom ... what's for dinner?" he asked inanely. It was a bald faced attempt to change the subject.

Ramona realized with a flush of embarrassment that she had no idea what she'd been preparing. She looked at the counter in confusion. "I don't know." she said weakly. When she saw the chicken on the counter she said "Fried chicken." Her eyes went to the stove, at the pan of water boiling there, and the potatoes in it. "And mashed potatoes." she added.

"OK then." said Robby, as if something momentous had been resolved. "I'm starving."

Debbie took a shuddering breath. She, like her mother, had a lot on her mind too. She knew what she had screamed, but her mother didn't appear to have actually heard her. She felt her mind twist slightly in her head as she recognized that the fact that her mother was acting so oddly had to mean that something powerful was going on. She felt a rush of shame for screaming. Robby was right about that. As much as she loved that old house, it wasn't worth driving her mother away from her. Whatever was going on must be awfully important to her mother for her to act this way. And, though she didn't understand it, she suddenly knew that somehow, it would all make sense eventually. She still itched to get answers to her questions, but she also knew that she'd have to be patient to get them.

She hoped she could make herself find that patience.

"I'm sorry." she said suddenly. She looked at her mother with an unspoken pleading in her eyes.

"Me too." said Ramona. "I have a lot on my mind. I shouldn't have yelled at you. None of this is your fault."

Robby gave a silent sigh of relief as the two women rushed together and hugged. He watched in confusion as both of them started crying and apologizing even more. He decided that women were even stranger than he had suspected.

"I'm starving over here." he complained, rubbing his stomach.

"Then get a can of green beans and put them on the stove." said his mother tearfully. "Do you expect me to do EVERYTHING for you?"

Robby signed again, this time audibly, and went to the pantry.

There was still tension during supper, but it was manageable. All three family members tried to make idle conversation, but it all fell flat. Finally Ramona put down her fork, wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin and settled her gaze on her daughter.

"I'm just going to say something. I don't want to talk about it right now. You seem to have some emotional involvement with that house that I don't understand. So let me just say this and I want you to think about it before you say anything back ... both of you." she said, turning her eyes to her son. "OK?"

Both teens nodded. There was a sinking sensation in Debbie's stomach.

"OK," said their mother. "That property is owned by Robert Nettleton. It has been for years. He was overseas for a long time, but now he wants to come back and live there. It's his house. He's very rich and he has his money in the bank ... where I work. They want me to take care of his financial needs ... pay his bills and things like that. I can't turn that down. It's not exactly a promotion, but it pays better than just being a teller. If I do a good job it may lead to more assignments like this. So, even though I know you two don't want anything to happen next door, I have to do this. That's what I want you to understand. I'm not doing this to hurt you or anything like that. Do you understand?"

"Can I ask one question?" probed Debbie, unable to find the patience she had reminded herself to look for.

"Yes, as long as you understand I may not be able to answer it." said her mother.

"Why couldn't you answer it?" asked Debbie.

Ramona struggled in her mind, choosing her words carefully. "There are some ... complications ... things I can't talk about right now."

'I just bet there are!' thought Debbie to herself. She decided to push just a little.

"When you fixed dinner last night it was obvious that mister Smith is ... important. Why is he so important?"

Ramona had been semi-prepared for several questions. Questions about "Mister Smith" weren't in that number. She was too long in answering, and didn't have time to think about her answer carefully.

"He's Robert Nettleton's representative." she said. "He's important to the bank."

Debbie's stomach flip-flopped. Her mother had told her an outright lie. Or at least part of it was an outright lie. He might be the owner's representative, but that wasn't why he was so important. That much had been made perfectly clear through the peep hole that very day.

"Right." said Debbie tightly. It was obvious she didn't like that answer.

"Debbie..." warned her brother.

"I'm not going to shout." she said to him.

Ramona knew something was wrong ... that her answer had been in error some way. But the kids couldn't possibly know who "Mister Smith" really was. It was impossible. Her confusion prevented her from pursuing the subject with her daughter, who suddenly looked hostile again.

"I have to deal with him at the bank." said Ramona, trying to salvage something without knowing how. "I just wanted him to feel welcome."

"Oh I'm sure he feels VERY welcome." said Debbie tightly. Her brother's hand suddenly gripped her knee under the table ... painfully. She tried to push it away, but he was too strong. He did let off the pressure, but kept his hand there in unspoken warning.

Debbie, unable to control herself, pushed more. "Maybe you should take him a plate tonight. I'm sure he'd feel more WELCOME."

Unknown to Debbie, that suggestion drove straight into Ramona's brain. She COULD take him a plate of food. It would be a perfect way to see him again, privately. Her daughter's tone of voice was nudged out of her consciousness.

"That's a good idea." she said. Both children saw a sparkle come into her eye and were mildly astonished. "That's a very good idea." said their mother, smiling for the first time that night. "It would be very neighborly!"

To her children's further astonishment she stood up, forgetting her own food and bustling about making up a plate.

"I'll just take this over now, and see how he's doing." Ramona's eyes had a far away look in them now, as if she weren't paying attention to what she was doing.

Their mother's behavior was so bizarre that it struck her children in a way that impressed on them just HOW important this man was. That she would abandon her dinner and her children ... just like that ... was something that spoke volumes to them. It penetrated their own brains in a way that nothing else had, even watching their mother have sex. As the door closed behind her, they looked at each other.

"Can you believe that?" asked Robby.

"Who IS this guy?" asked Debbie, wonder in her voice.

There was unspoken agreement between the teens to spy again. They didn't finish their dinner either, standing up and heading for the back door as if they had planned this all along. They stayed silent as they ghosted from tree to tree toward the house. Robby exclaimed at how different the outside looked. Repairs and paint just on the parts of the back side of the house made it look completely different. His sister pulled at his sleeve to get him to move on. They made just a cursory examination of the back of the house. Their mother would have drawn attention to the front part. They strode almost calmly to the entrance of the root cellar and slipped down into the dark.

Again they had left without thinking about light, but they fumbled in the dark only a little, finding the hidden catch for the shelf-door and stepping into the tunnel. They counted steps, stopping a foot from the door to the stairwell and pulled on the ring to open it slowly. The hinges still squealed a little and they left the door open to avoid making the hinges squeal again.

Tiptoeing straight to the peep hole for the master bedroom, Debbie got there first and pressed her face to the holes.

The room was empty.

She turned and whispered "They're not in there."

They scurried from spy hole to spy hole, trying to locate the adults. It was Robby who saw part of a man's body disappearing from view toward the grand staircase. Moving back to the master bedroom they waited, but no one appeared. They could both hear voices from lower in the house.

Debbie cupper her hands to her brother's ear. "You wait here. I'll go back and see if I can find them." He nodded, peering into the room.

Debbie found them in the formal dining room. Smith didn't have on his disguise, and was sitting at the head of a table that would have seated twenty-four comfortably. Her mother sat next to him. He was eating calmly. She thought to go get her brother, but they were talking and she wanted to hear. Losing vision, she pressed her ear to a hole.

" ... acting so strangely about this whole thing." she heard her mother say.

"It will only be another week or two before we can tell them." said the man around a mouthful of chicken. "This is delicious Rami."

"Thank you." said Ramona automatically. "I don't know if I can put them off for another week." she said.