Chapter 44
Carmen
“Still no answer?” Chelsea asks me as I slam my phone down on the kitchen table. We’ve been at the cabin for two days now, and there hasn’t been a single response from Eli. Should I call the police? I’m not sure of that. Eli has a syndrome, and it’s called, " I will never pick up your phone call." So I’m not sure that any police officer would be concerned about her phone being off. To make matters more aggravating, her husband Nathan doesn’t have a cell phone. He doesn’t believe in them. That in itself is stupid because what if there is an emergency? I’m not sure.
“Nope, it’s the same as always.” Chelsea, who’s dressed in black shorts and a white t-shirt nods. Her caramel colored hair is tucked up in a bun, and she has peanut butter on her lip from her peanut butter sandwich. Apparently, she wasn’t in the mood to eat the gigantic breakfast that Tiller prepared.
“Are you playing volleyball?” she asks me.
“Nope. I don’t play sports.” That’s what everyone has taken to doing, setting up games before lunch. I’d have enough of running around. I’m a little well-endowed and my girls are aching from all of the running that I’ve had to do.
“Me either. I’d rather stay in here and watch television. Are you up for it?” Translation, Chelsea wants to watch the news to see what they are saying about her mother’s case. Apparently, her father has been released yesterday. Her mother plead guilty and took a deal since there wasn’t much evidence against her. No one had seen her come into the mansion or leave it. The cameras had been down on that particular day. Amy’s daughter Emma is outraged by this outcome and is seeking to take Kate to court for damages, which is funny because Kate doesn’t have a dime.
“Oh, thanks for the two favors that you helped me with,” I tell Chelsea as I stand.
“Three,” she corrects me and I smile at her.
“Technically, the last one was…”
“Three. Carmen, I have no idea what you’re up to. But how mad is Jake going to be?” Chelsea asks as we settle in the living room. I’m stretched out on Jake’s sectional and Chelsea, of course, aims for the recliner. She’s the one with the remote, which means that she has total control over what we’re going to watch. She turns the flat screen on and flips through channel after channel. It isn’t even noon yet, which means that there is nothing but talk shows on. “Hey, check this out!” Chelsea pauses on a random show, I think it’s the Cory Ryan show and there’s a picture of me, in front of Murphy’s Steakhouse.
“So, who is this woman?” the old man asks. “My sources say that her name is Carmen Philips. If you’re wondering why that name sounds so familiar, it’s because the wealthy family has been making headlines for the last two years. With more about this sensational family, welcome my good friend, the editor of Gossip Magazine, Trish Angels.” The audience applauds while a ball of dread lands in my stomach. Chelsea hits information and realizes that the entire hour is dedicated to our family. How can this be? What is going on?
“Sensational?” Chelsea asks, disgust filling her face. “I don’t know why everyone thinks that we’re so interesting.”
“Because you have money,” a voice replies in the doorway. I sit up and stare at Maggie. She’s exactly what I remembered. She’s tall, thin, with long raven hair. Her turquoise colored eyes are filled with kindness. When they land on me, she smiles.
“Maggie!” I exclaim before rushing the poor woman. I wrap gentle arms around her, and she pats my back. She’s just as I remembered, a girly girl. She has on a peach-colored casual dress with sandals that have straps that wrap around her ankles. She’s all dolled up, complete with fake eyelashes. She smells like perfume, of course, and her grip is strong. When I release her, she makes her way to the couch. She has a slight limp, but I ignore it. That’s what the shooting did to her.
“This place is nice,” she comments as her eyes bounce around the brightly colored walls and the marble floor.
“Jake’s grandfather gave it to him,” I tell her. The mention of his name makes her frown.
“How is he?” She looks cautious, as if she isn’t sure how much to tell me. Chelsea looks between the two of us and clearly wants to leave. I hadn’t noticed, but she had actually muted the T.V.
“There’s a lot that you don’t know, Maggie,” I begin as I implore Chelsea to stay parked in the recliner. Despite the fact that I don’t want her alone right now. I’d rather us both explain this to Maggie. My cousin lets out a sigh and says, “It’s nice to meet you Maggie. I’m Chelsea Jacobs, Carmen’s cousin.”
“It’s nice to meet you too. You’re not what I expected,” Maggie says.
“The media says funny things,” Chelsea comments, pointing at the screen.
“Thanks for the first-class tickets and the good company. Donald is a nice guy.”
“No problem. Who did you bring with you?” Chelsea asks. To make Maggie feel safe, Chelsea had offered to buy two tickets.
“My sister Nicky. She’s outside talking to Alex. They really hit it off,” she reports.
“Good,” I say, feeling relieved. Alex is a very difficult person to please. I was surprised that she agreed to come by.
“Let’s get down to business. Why didn’t Jake send for me? Why you?” Maggie asks, her eyes focused on her face.
“He feels horrible about what happened to you, Maggie. He has some misplaced guilt.” Maggie laughs, but I can tell that she doesn’t find this situation funny.
“Well, I also feel horribly about what happened,” she responds, a flicker of annoyance in her face. “But I got over it.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be you that got shot,” Chelsea blurts out. “Amber was upset that her underwear was hung from the flag pole. She thought that Adriana had done it. But when she confronted her, she said that you did it. So then…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maggie says, gently interrupting my cousin.” I have already dealt with the shooting. Jake shouldn’t have kept this secret from me. But either way, it doesn’t change things. I got shot, and Adriana didn’t.”
“I thought that you two should get some closure. Jake really misses you,” I tell Maggie. She grins.
“And I miss him as well. I often wondered why he stayed away. I tried writing him, calling him, and attempted to surprise him while he was in college. He got wind of my arrival and escaped. He felt guilty that the one he loved caused his best friend to get shot. Jake really has a God complex.”
“Are you all right?” I softly ask Maggie, knowing that she understands what I mean.
“Yes, I’m fantastic. Getting shot has changed me. I use to think that I would take over the vineyard. Now, I’m getting my masters in counseling psychology. I want to help other people.” The passion in her eyes causes me to ache. Maggie knows exactly what she wants to be, but I’m lost. I’m too consumed by the chaos to concentrate on my future.
“Carmen, do you want to…” Jake pauses in the doorway, his face filled with shock. I want to go to him and tell him to face what he’s going through. But he shakes his head at me as if saying “hell no, I’m not going to talk to her.”
“Jake, you know Maggie,” I say in a gentle tone. He’s standing there as if his feet had been glued to the ground. His mouth opens, and then closes, but he clearly doesn’t know what to say.
“Jake, I’ve missed you. Why don’t you come in and talk to me,” Maggie suggests. Her face is full of hope, but Jake isn’t looking at her. He’s staring straight at me.
“Maggie, what a surprise? Is your stuff outside?” he asks, his expression turning to stone.
“No. Donald brought it all upstairs. Nicky’s also here.”
“Where?”
“Outside talking to Donald and Alex. We weren’t sure what was going to happen,” Maggie responds. It feels weird being a witness to this forced icy reunion. Chelsea frowns down at her hands as if she had expected something different.
“Alex is here too?” Jake’s voice is slightly
raised, his eyes slicing through my heart. That guy is not happy with me.
“It would seem so,” Maggie mutters. Jake doesn’t ask her to repeat herself like he does me when I speak under my breath.
“Is Sharp here too, Carmen?” Jake’s question is delivered in an accusatory way. He is not getting away with this. I waltz over to him and stand right in front of him. After raising my chin, I respond to his question.
“No. You guys didn’t have a real friendship. Inviting him here wouldn’t have done any good.”
“So you did well by inviting people here without my knowledge?”
“Yes, Jake, I did. So are you going to make things right with Maggie so that you can put it all behind you?” Jake doesn’t answer. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes deep, controlled breaths. When his eyes open again, he reaches out and caresses my cheek with his left hand.
“I love you,” he softly says before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. Before I can say anything back, Jake points to Maggie.
“Come on, Maggie, we need to talk.” He makes it clear that he doesn’t want an audience for this conversation. So I walk back to the couch and sit and watch Maggie and the man I love leave the room. Chelsea breathes out a sigh of relief a minute after they leave.
“Thank goodness. I never thought that they would leave,” she comments before turning the television back on. “Good news, I recorded what we missed. I can’t wait to hear the history of the Philips family!” To distract myself, I hop to my feet and rush into the kitchen. I’m no cook and can’t even microwave a decent bag of popcorn, so I decide on cutting up a block of cheese for cheese and crackers. I pull out the wooden cutting board from its home by the pans and grab a sharp knife from the knife block. After pulling a block of sharp cheddar from the fridge and tossing it beside the knife block, I wash my hands and get to work.
“Is that for me?” Alex asks as I continue to cut the cheese. I drop the knife and look back at her.
“You can have some.” She shakes her head.
“I’m lactose intolerant. I came in here looking for a snack for Bella. She’s hungry. I glance at the kitchen clock and note that it’s almost noon. Tiller should be firing up the grill pretty soon.
“Tiller’s going to grill soon. I think there’s a fruit salad in the fridge,” I tell her as Peter rushes in. He shoves me away from the knife block and shakes his head.
“I’ll cut that,” he cheerily says which a good thing is because my hand is beginning to hurt. Peter washes his hands and begins to cut nice perfect small squares of cheese. They look ten times better than what I was doing. I grab a bowl from the cupboard beside Peter and hand it to Alex, who shoots me a grateful look. Alex pulls the gigantic bowl of fruit from the fridge, plops it on the counter, and lifts the lid.
“Someone forgot to take the spoon out of the fruit,” she announces, before washing her hand and digging the spoon out of the mountain of fruit. After preparing her daughter’s breakfast, she puts everything back where she found it and rushes off.