Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 02 - Eminent Domain Page 19

  Carmella, Alonzo, and Mitzy were at the inn again, crossing things off of the unending to-do list. It was all Mitzy could do to keep focused on the task at hand. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to sit down and rest.

  “Are the prices good?” Mitzy asked.

  “Yes. They are very good and they have product available that that company you use doesn’t make,”

  “You’re the manager,” Alonzo said. “It’s your decision.”

  “So I can make the order?” Carmella asked.

  “Sure,” her brother said. “But can you cancel the order when they tear it down for the tram?”

  “Have faith, brother! We can beat City Council,” Carmella said.

  “Make an order in faith Carmella. We could use it right now. We are just this side of winning and your optimism may be what puts us over the edge,” Mitzy said.

  “Well then, what are we going to call the place?” Carmella asked.

  Mitzy spoke up, “I think Miramontes, though we don’t actually have a view of the mountains.”

  “Think that matters?” Alonzo asked.

  “Not at all,” Mitzy said. “It’s a very romantic name and pretty suitable for a brother-sister enterprise.”

  “You don’t want to call it Neuhaus?” Carmella said. “You hold the majority shares.”

  “I do, but I won’t forever. And if the sign says Neuhaus on it people will think it’s for sale.” Mitzy grinned.

  “Too true,” Carmella said. “Well, I like it. Miramontes Inn? Miramontes Motel? Miramontes Suites? What sounds best? The Inn at Miramontes, Miramontes Cottage, Miramontes Manor, Miramontes Bed and Breakfast?”

  “It’s not a motel. It’s not a proper hotel. It’s not a bed and breakfast. Our ‘suites’ are rather small for what it’s worth. We’re not actually ‘at’ Miramontes, nor are we a cottage. I like Miramontes Manor. What do you think Alonzo?”

  “Keep it simple. The Miramontes,” Alonzo said.

  Carmella frowned. “How will they know we’re an inn?”

  “Because we will advertise that we are an inn. We have a lot of work for Ben, if he ever comes back. I think people will get it,” he said.

  “I like that it sounds established, like people should already know who we are,” Mitzy said.

  “It doesn’t have a cheesy rhyme in it, can you handle that?” Carmella asked her.

  “We could write a jingle that rhymes,” Mitzy said with a grin.

  “No,” Alonzo said.

  “I was kidding. We’ll go sophisticated on this one. I think we can do it in house. Ben can be the webmaster. But the rest we can do. I like ‘The Miramontes,’” Mitzy said.

  “So I’ll order our stationary and then we’re about ready to open,” Carmella said.

  “We’ve got a ways to go before our last inspection. But we’re closing in on it. Almost ready to open,” Mitzy said.

  Alonzo sat down next to Mitzy on the sofa that they had put in the lobby of The Miramontes. “I am ready for the next project, how about you?” he asked Mitzy.

  “I’m ready to sell some houses and leave The Miramontes to Carmella,” she answered.

  Alonzo leaned close and whispered in her ear, “So you don’t want to team up for another renovation? I know a Miramontes who needs a lot of work.”

  “No. No more renovations. From now on I’ll take things as I find them,” she whispered back.

  Alonzo slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “And how do you find me?” he asked.

  She relaxed into his arm, and whispered back, her warm breath on his neck, “Conveniently located to all the best services, priced right, and not a short sale. You’re the real deal.”

  He squeezed her tight and laughed.

  “I am trying to ignore you two,” Carmella said from the reception desk.

  “Am I a vintage fixer?” Alonzo asked, quiet again.

  “You’re a classic. A handyperson’s dream,” Mitzy said.

  “But you’re not a handy person,” Alonzo said frowning, getting a little lost in her analogy.

  “And you’re not a house. I think you’ll do if you keep on keeping on. It’s not my job to fix you anyway,” Mitzy said, more seriously.

  “But women always try to fix their husbands,” he said.

  She let the words hang in the air for a moment, and then responded, “Those women are wrong.”

  Alonzo was quiet for a little while, his eyes roaming the beautifully remodeled reception area of his newest business enterprise.

  “Good. I’m glad that’s what you objected to. I need a lot of work, but that’s what God is for, right?”

  “That’s right,” Mitzy said, her voice still hushed.

  “Now that we are almost through with this mess….” Alonzo began but stopped. “Maybe we should start going to church together,” he finished lamely.

  “That’s not a bad idea. But I don’t think it’s necessary to go to church together when you are just dating.”

  “Yeah, it’s not,” he said. He looked up at his sister, who nodded and quietly left her desk to go upstairs. He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box.

  Mitzy’s eyes instantly filled with tears and her breathing went shallow.

  “Six months ago we were in this same room uncovering a rare treasure. I don’t mean the Romanov Jewels. We were standing in this same room, over there by the dumbwaiter.” He gestured towards the back wall. “You were adorable with your purple tool box. I had never seen you so relaxed. I knew then that I had to have you. No matter what was in the dumbwaiter, no matter what happened to the house.”

  She nodded, tears starting to spill.

  “No, don’t cry. I’ve got to try and say all of this. I practiced.” Alonzo cleared his throat. “There was a bunch of jewelry in the dumbwaiter. And I remember I wasn’t surprised or impressed. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I remember how you smelled that day. There was a treasure in that room, but…” Alonzo began to blush, “It was loving each other. I knew absolutely that I loved you that day. I might have known it before, but by then all of my doubts were gone. It’s not been long, but we aren’t children. We know what we want. I know what I want.” He dropped to one knee in front of her. “Will you marry me?” He asked, opening the box.

  The diamond took her breath away, simple, but huge. Not that that it mattered, she tried to remind herself. But it was huge. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Don’t cry,” Alonzo said. “You could do worse than me. I’m not so bad.” He pulled the ring out of the box and put it on her finger. “I know. I could have used the money to help the needy. But you know, jewelers are needy in a bad economy.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Mitzy said, mesmerized by the sight she had almost given up hoping for.

  “It’s the least you deserve,” he said.

  “Is Carmella listening from the stairs?” Mitzy whispered.

  “Probably,” Alonzo replied with a hearty laugh.

  Mitzy took a deep breath and picked her Birken bag up from the floor next to the sofa. “Before she comes back I have to show you something.” Mitzy was still whispering.

  Alonzo sat back on the couch next to her, one hand lightly resting on her knee. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes hooded with worry.

  “It’s this.” Mitzy pulled the myrtle wood box from her bag. “I have a lot to tell you. I shouldn’t have kept it from you.” She placed the box in his hands.

  He turned it over looking at all sides before trying to open it.

  “I found it in the arm of a sofa from the house. It’s probably what the Feds have wanted all along.”

  “I see,” Alonzo said quietly. He left the box unopened and set it on his lap. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  “I was trying to handle it myself. I didn’t want the Feds to have it because of what was in it. Names. Names of that might well be perfectly innocent people. They didn’t need the Feds after them because they were in some box
in an old house. I didn’t want to do something that would harm these strangers.”

  “But why did you keep it from me?”

  Mitzy blinked the tears back again. “Because I might have been wrong. And I didn’t want to be.”

  Alonzo wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He didn’t say anything.

  “I’m so close to knowing what it all means. Can I keep it a little bit longer?” Mitzy asked him.

  Alonzo pushed her out at arms length and met her eye to eye. “We are getting married Mitzy. That doesn’t make me your boss. Or your conscience.”

  “So you are not going to tell me what to do?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “But I’ll pray for you. For wisdom.” He grinned at her and hugged her again. “See?” he said. “That wasn’t so hard. I was supportive. I wasn’t antagonistic.”

  Mitzy smiled at him, shaking her head, “I didn’t think you’d be antagonistic.”

  “Don’t know why you didn’t, I usually am. Listen kid, if we can get this inn off the ground we can do anything together.”

  “I believe it.”

  “Should we let Carmella come back downstairs?” Alonzo asked.

  “Oh, okay,” Mitzy said, planting a big kiss on his lips first.

  Coming up for air, Alonzo hollered, “You can come back down Carmella, she said yes!”

  They listened to Carmella’s feet bang their way down two flights of stairs. “She said yes!” she cried out, running down the last stairs and grabbing Mitzy in a big hug. “Welcome to the madhouse!” She kissed her on the cheek.

  The next day was finally the Smythes’ open house. The counters were spotless, the carpets vacuumed, the furniture staged to within an inch of its natural life. The Smythes’ home on 72nd Street was ready, finally for its open house. Mitzy walked the house one last time looking for lint in the wrong place, lights that were turned off and doors that were ajar. She had one chance to prove to these clients that she could get it done. And yet, for as busy as she kept herself, it seemed pointless. Who cared if their home sold? Who really cared that they thought living at the beach would be more pleasant? She shut a bathroom cupboard door, and admired the glint of her engagement diamond.

  With Ben gone even the trouble with the inn seemed shallow. Where had he gone? With her own engagement filling her heart, Jenny’s loss seemed unendurable. Mitzy shook her head. She had a house to show. Ben was a grown man and could take care of himself. Trying to get Ben out of her mind didn’t help. The city’s plans immediately filled the void left behind. Losing some funding seemed to be slowing the city’s plans. The Grey to Green Initiative opposing the plan was also slowing things down. But slow wasn’t stopped.

  The FBI was the only authority powerful enough to stop the city council. Nothing else would do. But was that a solution? Would they be able to operate a business if the Feds took over? Or would the losses be just as big if they gave in to the FBI? Swinging back and forth between those thoughts Mitzy couldn’t decide what she needed to do. Was it her job to unravel this mess or was it okay to pass it off to the authorities? Why was she still trying to control the fate of everyone she knew? She was here to sell a house.

  She unlocked the front door, propped it open with a granite door stopper and waited for people to come. This was a nice house. It would sell. After that she could deal with the inn and Ben.

  The clock in the kitchen ticked loudly, reminding Mitzy to turn on the Pachabell. An open house needed to look good, smell good, and sound good. She wanted to engage every sense in the potential buyer, leaving behind a completely positive impression. The plate of sugar cookies she had just baked in their oven added the smell. She had used candles frequently in the past. A lot of people liked the smell of candles, but everybody liked the smell of fresh baked cookies. She was leaving nothing to chance today.

  From the side window she saw two cars drive up 72. The mint green Passat parked in front of the house. The white Escalade with tinted windows pulled up to the curb as well, but down the block. The couple from the Passat came to the front door and let themselves in.

  “It’s so pretty,” the woman whispered. She was in her mid-thirties, middle height and slender. She wore Dansko clogs and a hand knit sweater. The man with her was tall and fit with close cropped hair. He looked bored.

  He spotted Mitzy and nodded.

  “Good morning,” Mitzy said. “Tour the house and let me know if you have any questions.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said, looking back as they walked away.

  Mitzy listened to their foot fall as they toured the house. They lingered in the master bedroom. Did they think it was too small or did they appreciate the view of the backyard? Did the upscale fittings in the bathroom make up for the size?

  She leaned on the granite breakfast bar with her thin elbow as she listened to doors opening and closing. Through the picture window she could see another car pull up. A black car. Mitzy took a drink of her tea and wondered if the FBI had popped over to check up on her.

  The family touring the house came back downstairs. She could hear them talking from the sunroom.

  “I like this Marcus. Can’t you see the kids doing their homework out here?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Do you like it or not?” she asked.

  Mitzy hated to eavesdrop so she took her coffee cup and joined the couple in the sunroom.

  “Hmmm? Yes. I like it so far.” Marcus continued to stare out the wall of windows into the side yard as he spoke.

  “What do you see?” His wife asked. Mitzy thought her voice sounded tired.

  He nodded towards the front corner of the side yard and didn’t say anything.

  Mitzy followed the nod and saw the branches of the rhododendron moving.

  “I’m gonna check it out, Shan,” Marcus said.

  He silently opened the French door of the sunroom and went outside.

  Shannon turned to Mitzy and shrugged. “Never off duty. Will you show me the lower level?”

  “Sure. It’s a half-finished daylight basement. I think you’ll like it. Is your husband a cop?”

  “Yes. And he’s bored to death by house hunting. But…we need a house so he’s just got to suck it up.”

  Mitzy laughed and led Shannon downstairs.

  “They’ve done a good job of finishing this. The stairs lead directly to the finished family room and half bath. That door on the left leads to the unfinished space, which is great storage.” Mitzy walked across the room and opened the door.

  “Yeah, that is good. It’s been hard to find a house with the right kind of storage. I wish this house had a bigger master, but everything else is pretty good.”

  “What are you looking for in a master bedroom?” Mitzy asked

  “I’d love to have a sitting area. This room is big enough, but I can’t really make a space for me to get away.”

  “Homes this era don’t always have big bedrooms,” Mitzy said. “If you get creative you could make it happen but you don’t want to sacrifice space. I wonder, with the basement, formal living room, sunroom and four bedrooms…do you think your family could spread out enough that you wouldn’t need that extra space in the bedroom?”

  Shannon nodded and looked about to speak. But a sound crashed around their ears. Instantly they dropped to their knees and covered their heads.

  “What was that?” Shannon asked.

  Mitzy took a deep breath and stood up. “Maybe a car? Could it have been a car accident?”

  “Maybe so,” Shannon said rising to her knees and pulling her arms down to her chest.

  Mitzy was already heading upstairs. “If you feel more comfortable, just stay down here. I’ll send your husband to get you.”

  Shannon nodded but followed Mitzy to the stairs and watched her go up.

  Mitzy couldn’t make up her mind. It had sounded like a car crashed into the front of the house. It was usually difficult to sell a house with a car smashed into it…but she knew it hadn’t been
that. It had been outside. She checked the anger welling in her chest. She did not want the drama from the inn to ruin her sale.

  She took long, slow steps, looking around each corner before she moved forward, but nothing seemed wrong in the house. She pushed the front door open an inch and looked out. Marcus was standing, legs apart holding his arms out straight in front of him, aiming at three men.

  “Shut the door and stay inside,” he said in a calm but firm voice.

  Mitzy didn’t know how he had heard her door open but she shut it gently and moved back inside. Making her way with the same amount of care as before she went to a front bedroom and peered out the window.

  She scanned the scene. A small black car was smashed into the side of the white Escalade she had seen earlier. One of the three men held at gun point inched his way backward but Marcus turned the gun on him and shook his head. Mitzy couldn’t hear what he said. Out of the corner of her eye something light caught her eye.

  She turned her head and saw the white back of a slight figure slip through the hedge row. Who was that? Did Marcus know there was a fourth person?

  Mitzy slid open the window an inch to hear what was happening. Sirens filled the air as three more police cars tore into the scene. Doors flew open as officers rushed out of the cars. Mitzy looked to see if she recognized anyone, then thought to drop below the glass window in case anyone got it in mind to shoot something.

  Staying below the window lines, on her hands and knees Mitzy crawled to the kitchen door and let herself out. Behind the house, and out of sight, she made her way to the side yard where she had seen the white shirted person cut through the hedge.

  She stopped in front of the hedge and listened. She could hear yelling in the front yard, like someone official giving orders. If she stayed out of sight, she thought, she could probably avoid being shot.

  Mitzy had to cut through the hedge a few paces away from where the other person went to stay out of sight. The branches were prickly, but she pushed her way through. The yard looked empty. A shed stood in the corner with the door slightly ajar. Holding her breath she crossed the yard. She stood behind the shed door and pulled it out, leaning forward just enough to see inside. It was dark, and the sharp smell of chemical fertilizer bit into her nose. She rubbed her nose with her index finger and leaned farther forward.