Fall Flip Read online

  “Uh, no. My dad’s in Atlanta now, and my mom just moved to Columbia, South Carolina, last year.” She flashed a smile. “She went back to school, got her RN. She hated to leave Augusta, especially during my little sister’s freshman year at Augusta State, but the hospital in Columbia offered her a dream job in obstetrics.”

  “Cool.” Scott smiled, lightening the tension. “At least she’s only an hour away.”

  “Right.”

  “And your sister’s here. My stepbrother, Austin, is too.”

  At the mental image of the big, handsome football player Austin had been in high school, a smile quirked up the corners of Shelby’s mouth. “I remember Austin.” In fact, at one point, she’d thought he might like her, even though he was a good deal older.

  “Everybody remembers Austin. Catch you tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow.” Shelby waved.

  As Scott Matthews gave her a backwards salute, Shelby headed to her Honda CRV. She’d parked at the end of the lot so it wouldn’t be obvious someone was at the vacant house. She snorted. That had worked out well.

  As Scott’s black Chevy truck roared to life across the road, a teeny octogenarian enrobed in a flowered house dress watered a flourishing stand of knockout roses steps away from Shelby’s driver’s side door. The woman glared at Scott as he drove away, as though the mere noise of the motor disturbed her peace.

  Shelby nibbled her lip as she approached. Sour-spirited senior citizens set her on edge. She never seemed to know what to say to make them happy—something she never had to worry about with the Wentworths because their joyful zest for life made Shelby forget almost half a century separated her birthdate from theirs. The neighbor stood too close to her car to ignore, so she decided to keep things short and sweet.

  “Hello.”

  The lady gave a curt nod. “You and that young man buying the house?”

  “Oh. No.” Unlocking her door, Shelby smiled. “But we will be helping the new owners renovate.”

  “I hope the first thing you do is clean up the yard.”

  Laughing, Shelby recalled her first impression of the property, which a flipper was always supposed to remember. Yucky stucco trim, cracked and dirty driveway, and overgrown yard. The fact that all three represented simple fixes promised future curb appeal. “That’s definitely on the to-do list, and I can promise you’ll love the final result.” Glancing back at the bungalow, she could already envision how fresh it would look painted gray with stone over the stucco. “But we have to tear up before we can fix up.”

  Giving the water stream a jiggle, neighbor lady pursed her thin lips.

  Deciding extra diplomacy would be required, Shelby slung her purse into the car. “I’m Shelby Dodson, from ‘Dodson’s—’”

  The woman gave her a half quizzical, half irritated frown that said she didn’t watch Home Network, despite her immaculately tended front yard. Shelby pinched her lips together. Didn’t matter, anyway. She needed to stop introducing herself like that.

  “Betsy Lou Clark.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Clark.”

  “What’d they pay for it?” Betsy swung toward her, frowning into the setting sun.

  “Oh … I don’t know if they’d want me to disclose that, although you can look it up online.”

  “Do I look like I go surfing online? I heard at church that they got it for $85,000, on account of the weeds and the roof needing replacing.”

  At the mention of the roof, the pit in Shelby’s stomach that she was mostly able to ignore until bedtime opened up. In her mind, she heard the yelling again and saw the sun slanting over the empty gable, blinding her. In fact, the accident had happened right about this time of day. She blinked, willing herself back to the present. “Well, there’s also a rotted subfloor in the bathroom, ’70s paneling, and a dated kitchen.”

  Betsy Lou sniffed. “Hoity-toity. Folks throwing away stuff they’ll go bonkers over in fifty years. Well, if they got it for under ninety, they did all right for themselves. Nod if I’m warm. As you can see, I try to keep my house up nice.” She waved a hand toward her brick Tudor cottage.

  Shelby smiled. “It’s very nice. And you’re probably in the ball park.” Another cardinal rule for renovators danced through Shelby’s mind. She needed to find out about the neighborhood. “So you’ve lived here a long time?”

  “Ever since I married my late husband.”

  “You knew who the previous neighbors were, then?”

  “Well, yes, don’t you?”

  The way Betsy Lou delivered the question jangled alarm bells in Shelby’s mind. “No, should I?”

  “You mean to say the new owners don’t know the history of this house?”

  Shelby glanced back at the bungalow, half expecting to glimpse a ghostly shape in the upstairs side gable window. “Um … I’m sorry, but what history?”

  Betsy Lou shuffled over to baptize the phlox, Shelby following.

  “All I know from when I first inquired about the house was that a middle-aged man put it on the market when his father went to an assisted living home.”

  The silver bun on top of Betsy Lou’s head wobbled as she nodded. “David Barnes grew up next door. I remember him riding his red Radio Flyer down this very sidewalk. Can’t say as he had a happy life, poor child.”

  The skin on Shelby’s arms tingled despite the heat.

  “Why was that?” “Well, when one’s parents don’t get along, that’s generally the way of it. Charles Barnes had quite the temper, and Sharon bore the brunt of it. We could hear ’em arguing from our own bedroom, seemed like every other night there at the end. Come to think on it, that was right at forty years ago.” Betsy Lou paused and gazed at the high-pressure sky for a moment, the flowers forgotten. Then she nodded. “Yep, autumn, forty years ago.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Sharon disappeared. And never was found.”

  When Scott pulled into the driveway of the ranch he and his stepbrother renovated for Austin’s bride four years earlier, he grinned at the sight of Austin’s F150 beside Kaleigh’s crossover. His older brother waved from the garage, his bulky frame hidden in the shadows as he unloaded equipment.

  “Hey, man, thanks for coming over.” Muscles popping out of his T-shirt sleeves, Austin ambled forward to meet Scott.

  “Are you kidding? I never pass up a dinner invite. Or a chance to see my niece.”

  Austin gave him a hand clasp and half hug. “Glad you were free. I couldn’t wait to tell you about the salvage from the Quillen house today. You’ll be stoked. And Alexis has been asking for you. ‘Scotty, Scotty! Where’s Scotty?’” Austin imitated his daughter’s high-pitched, pleading tone.

  Scott couldn’t mask his pleasure. Fifteen years ago, Austin and Austin’s father filled a void in Scott’s life he never expected them to, but the addition of his three-year-old niece, who adored him for some reason, warmed his heart like nothing else.

  “So you got some good stuff?”

  Austin ran the deconstruction company his father, Mike Culpepper, had started before Mike married Scott’s mom, reclaiming old wood and architectural elements before it was considered cool. In fact, neighborhood kids had called Mike “the junk man,” since he’d stored old doors and window frames in his back yard before purchasing his warehouse at Ninth Street and Broad. Now, the company worked alongside demolition crews at houses and commercial buildings slated for razing.

  “Yeah, check out these pictures.” Austin took out his phone and swiped through several shots of ornate mantels, spindles, and baseboards. “And look at this heart pine flooring. I mean, pristine. No telling what you could make out of it for the shop.”

  “Uh-huh.” Scott rubbed his jaw and nodded, his mind whirring with possibilities. He put on the mental brakes before he could get too inspired. “But it might be a little while until I get free time.”

  “The Wentworth job’s a sure thing?” Austin glanced up, brown eyes shining with the same interest in others that
got him voted homecoming king and “most likely to succeed” in high school.

  “Yes, but with an … addendum. It seems I have a new project manager.”

  “What? You don’t need a project manager.”

  “The original project manager who pitched the renovation to Lester and Ruby in the first place.”

  Austin’s jaw went slack. “You mean Shelby Dodson?”

  “What about Shelby Dodson?” Kaleigh asked from the door to the house, amazing smells and a tiny person escaping from the culinary domain behind her.

  “Scotty! Scotty!”

  Scott could hear the voice before he could see the toddler as Alexis ran around her mother’s vehicle. Picking up the little body encased in a bright, ruffled sundress, he buried his face in the child’s honey-colored curls.

  Alexis drew back and smashed both of his cheeks with the palms of her chubby hands.

  When she let go, Scott grinned. “I missed you, pumpkin.”

  “I’m not a pumpkin!” She ducked her head and wriggled away as Scott blew on her neck. He lowered her to the ground and gave her a pat to send her back to her mother.

  Austin cocked his head. “Dude, Shelby Dodson! Didn’t you have a crush on her in high school?”

  “When she had no idea I was alive?”

  Austin made a face. “Sure, she did. She made the varsity cheer squad as a freshman when I was a senior. She talked to me every time I passed her in the hall.”

  Petite, attractive Kaleigh laughed. “Every girl talked to the star of the football team who was going on to play for the university.”

  “She didn’t even remember me until I told her my last name.” Scott ran a hand over his hair and quirked up a corner of his mouth.

  “But she did remember you then, right? Man, she’s gorgeous!”

  Hands on her hips, Kaleigh exploded. “Austin Culpepper!”

  He waved in her direction with the confidence of the happily married and addressed Scott. “Look how much you’ve got in common now. This could be your second chance.”

  “Now that she’s lost her husband, you mean?” Scott scoffed.

  “Yeah.” Austin sobered and put a hand on his shoulder. “That was a tragedy. But it could be a perfect time to move in.”

  “‘Move in?’ I can hardly form a sentence in her presence. And I’m not sure I want to. She’s really uptight. Before tomorrow’s walk-through, she expects me to go home and make copies of all the paperwork I gave the Wentworths. I probably need a color photo booklet documenting every house renovation I’ve ever done. And I bet she’s on the phone right now, checking to see if anyone’s filed complaints against my crew.”

  Austin laughed. “Did you tell her you still live at home?”

  “What? No! And I’m not going to. Shelby Dodson’s walking perfection. It’s disgusting.”

  Kaleigh helped Alexis up the steps. The toddler carried a big pink ball in her chubby hands. His sister-in-law called back. “A lot has changed since high school, Scott. Things probably aren’t as perfect as they appear. Now, y’all quit talking about hot women and get in here, or you’ll get cold homemade baked ziti.”

  “Yeah, Daddy, come on.” Alexis peered over the top of her ball.

  Even though she was looking at Austin when she said it, Scott’s stomach clenched. Was it his imagination, or did she look an awful lot like a miniature Shelby Dodson?

  He cringed. Definitely his imagination.

  Chapter Three

  The first day of her new job, Shelby welcomed her cell phone’s cheerful ringing. The silence in her house could almost make her miss even her fights with Chet. Almost.

  “Sorry I was working last night when you texted.”

  Shelby almost dropped her mom’s call as she let her white, ten-pound MaltTzu into the fenced back yard. She tightened her grip on the phone. Maltie’s tan ears bounced as she trotted out to do her business.

  Shelby blinked in the bright light. Coffee. She needed it soon, but today called for something more special than her Keurig could produce. “It’s okay. I figured you were on second shift. How’s it going?”

  “Great! But I’m calling about you. I’m so excited that you decided to contact the Wentworths. Wasn’t he that high school football coach?”

  “Yes, from Schofield County. He retired, then opened a Southern-style restaurant. They sold the business, but they’ve still got their house on the market. I really admire him wanting to renovate this bungalow for his wife even though he has some sort of medical condition.”

  Concern filled her mother’s voice. “What kind of condition, honey?”

  Shelby ought to have known her nurse-mom would only be satisfied with a full diagnosis. “I’m not sure. His hands shake sometimes.” Shelby perched on her patio chair, opened a compact, and applied mascara.

  “Does it happen while he’s using his hands?”

  “Yes. I heard Ruby say something about essence … essential—”

  “Essential tremor?”

  “That sounds like it.”

  “Oh dear. That would be frustrating if he likes to cook.”

  “Is there a treatment?”

  “Um, some medications, I think, and some try Botox, but it’s not curable.

  “I’m glad you can help them. And yourself too.”

  “Well, I need the money. Living here’s about drained all the savings Chet and I put back. I was feeling pretty good about the job until I left last night. Get this. They already hired a contractor who has his own crew. Funny, I went to high school with him.”

  “Is he that bad?”

  “No, although he’s so serious it will be nothing like working with Chet.” Shelby wanted to hurry on to the next subject for some reason. “There’s something else, something the neighbor lady told me.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently, a young mom went missing from the house back in the ’70s. The police and folks in the area thought the husband had something to do with it. They never found anything to incriminate him, but the case was never solved either. And had I been in charge of the escrow process, the Wentworths would have known about this long before the final walk-through.”

  “Oh, my goodness. Are you going to tell them?”

  “Yes, this morning.” She gave a slow blink in her mirror to assess the spread of her mascara-encrusted lashes. Yep. Perfect.

  “Wow. Well, I’ll pray it all comes out like it’s meant to.”

  “I just don’t want to be relocating a pipe under the house and find a body.” Shelby shuddered.

  Her mother gave a gentle laugh. “I doubt it will be anything that dramatic.”

  “That’s what the people said who bought the ‘watcher’ house.” Shelby wanted no part of that kind of real estate nightmare. “I did some Googling last night, but I want to make sure I understand Georgia disclosure law. You remember my real estate agent friend, Tasha Clausen?”

  “Yes.”

  Shelby ignored the disapproval in her mother’s voice. After Tasha had a fling with another man, her husband had divorced her. But that had been years ago, and Shelby employed Tasha for her business sense, not her morality. “I tried to call her last night. I’m going to try again today.”

  “Hopefully, she’ll have answers. Listen, I don’t want to hold you up.”

  “You’re not holding me up.” Hearing from someone who cared about her more than made up for the delay. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  Her mom’s tone softened. “Yours too. I’ve been worried about you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve reconsidered my decision to move here. If only I had known what was about to happen.”

  “Mom, don’t. You did what you needed to do for yourself.”

  Her mother released a sigh. “Well, I’m hoping that your little sister moving in will help.”

  Shelby rolled her eyes and snapped her compact shut. “Me, too, although I doubt she’s gotten any neater after a year in the dorm and a summer with dad’s flighty artist wife.”


  Mom surprised her by murmuring her name in a slightly scolding tone. Last Shelby recalled, her mother resented Tom Holloway’s second wife … and with good reason. The grad student he’d had an affair with, ten years his junior, destroyed their marriage. But her mother now thrived in a new church in Columbia, and while she’d always been a Christian, God peppered her conversation more and more these days.

  “What?” Shelby smoothed her hair. “You know what she’s like. Aubrey’s filled her head with talk of displaying Angelina’s art in her new Atlanta gallery.”

  “Well, as much as I don’t want Angelina moving there after school, if your sister has bad habits, it’s probably due more to me than anyone. I’m afraid I overindulged her after your father left, and even more when I thought I had to compete with Aubrey.”

  “There’s no competition, Mom.” Shelby stood up and called Maltie, who sniffed around a tree. “Anyway, I guess she’s still coming Saturday?”

  “Last I heard.”

  “I’ll batten down for the hurricane.”

  Although Shelby made a joke of it, Angelina’s boundless energy might come as a welcome addition. They were so far apart in age Shelby hardly knew her little sister, but the idea of having family close again felt comforting. After the Wentworth renovation, she’d have to make some tough decisions. The businesses of two other designers flourished in her absence. One of them had opened a store at Broad and Tenth.

  Shelby hung up and called for the dog in a firmer tone accompanied by claps. Maltie complied—until she caught sight of a squirrel and whizzed across the yard, trampling Shelby’s flowers.

  “Now you see the squirrel.” Shelby stomped across the grass to take the errant canine in hand. “Ugh, your paws are soaking!”

  When Maltie huffed happily into her face, the tan mask making the toy breed look like a miniature bandit, Shelby’s heart melted. “Bad girl.” Her voice almost cracked on a laugh as she kissed the fluffy head. After all, Maltie was all she had to curl up with now.