The House on Sugar Plum Lane Read online

  “Just being in her house has convinced me that she was a special lady. I’ve been drawn to the paintings on her wall. She was a good artist. I even found an accordion in the closet, so I suspect she was a musician as well.” Amy didn’t mention the journals or the fact that Ellie might have been a writer, too.

  “I’d completely forgotten about that accordion.” A slow smile stretched across Maria’s face. “One day, when I was a teenager living in Fairbrook with my aunt, she played for us—polka tunes, mostly. From what I understand, she taught herself to play by ear.”

  “Really? I play the piano, and so did my mother. But we had years of lessons.” Amy wished she could reel in her words the moment they came out. She’d been thinking that Ellie had passed on some kind of musical gene, but she wasn’t ready to reveal who she was and why she was here.

  The teakettle on the stove began to whistle, and she got up, glad for the interruption. As she poured hot water into each cup, Maria scanned the kitchen.

  “It feels weird being in this room and having tea with someone other than Ellie. We had a lot of chats in here, especially when I learned I was pregnant with Wally. She took the place of my aunt and said all the right things.”

  “You mean about childbirth and that sort of thing?”

  Maria glanced down at the cup and frowned as though it was a long story and not one she was proud of.

  “I spent my teen years living with my aunt, Sofia. But one summer, I went to visit my cousin Rita in Los Angeles. I met a guy named Ray Huddleston there. He was a blue-eyed charmer, and one of those guys who had all the girls in the neighborhood panting at his feet.” She opened her tea bag and placed it into the cup of water. “Needless to say, when he started paying attention to me, I was flattered. And after dating him for a whopping two months, he asked me to marry him, and I agreed.”

  She’d introduced herself as Maria Rodriguez, Amy thought. Hadn’t she taken Ray’s name? Or had she taken her own back after the split?

  “Tía Sofia, my aunt, tried to talk me out of it, saying she’d seen his kind before. That he was a heartbreak waiting to happen. But I thought she was too old to know what she was talking about.”

  “And she wasn’t?”

  “Nope.” Maria dunked the tea bag into the water several times, then removed it and added a spoonful of sugar from the bowl that sat on the table. “She had Ray pegged pretty well.”

  “Did you marry him?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I did.” She took a sip from her cup. “We stayed in the L.A. area, where he had family and friends. I didn’t know too many people, but that didn’t matter. I loved him, and before long, I got pregnant with Danny. Ray seemed happy about it, but he was away from home a lot. I tried not to complain, telling myself he was a good provider, that a lot of women would be happy to have a guy like him.”

  Maria didn’t need to tell Amy about the loneliness of going through a pregnancy alone. For one reason or another, Brandon had missed out on nearly all of the exciting events: hearing the heartbeat for the first time, staring at the ultra-sound in awe, decorating the nursery.

  “I began to hear rumors that Ray was seeing someone on the side.”

  “Was he?”

  Maria nodded. “I confronted him, and he admitted to having an affair. He swore the woman meant nothing to him, that he loved me. And I believed him.”

  As far as Amy knew, Brandon hadn’t cheated on her, but she couldn’t let the fact that Maria had married a real jerk make her think that she and Callie should have settled for less than they deserved.

  She took a sip of her tea. “I take it things didn’t get much better?”

  “They did for a little while. I was determined to forgive and forget. About the time Sara was six weeks old, we were facing another anniversary. I wanted to do something special, even though we couldn’t afford anything big. So I got a sitter for the kids, then went to the grocery store to pick up everything I needed for a romantic dinner at home, including candles and sparkling cider.

  “On the way to the market, I saw his truck parked in front of the Starlight Motor Inn. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. I knew he’d done it to me again. I made a U-turn, parked next to his pickup, then banged on the door until he answered. Just as I’d suspected, there was a woman with him.”

  Amy reached over and placed her hand over Maria’s. “I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than that.”

  “I know.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Three years, but there’s more to the story.” Again, Maria seemed to wrestle with her memories, with the decision to share them with Amy. “About six months after I left L.A., Ray came here, apologizing and begging me to take him back. He thought we could make a fresh start in Fairbrook. My aunt had just passed away, and I was heartbroken and lonely.”

  “Did you? Take him back?”

  “I hate to admit it, but yes. He’d only been here a few days.” She blew out a weary sigh. “Just long enough to conceive Wally. And then the police showed up, looking for him.”

  “What had he done?”

  “The woman he’d gotten involved with was married, and when her husband found out, there was an ugly fight. Things escalated, and the other man was shot. Ray claimed it was self-defense, although I can’t understand why he would have had a gun in the first place.”

  “So they arrested him?”

  “Yes. And can you believe it?” She slowly shook her head. “He had the gall to ask me to provide him with an alibi for that night. But I refused to lie for him. Now he’s serving a twenty-year prison sentence.”

  And Amy thought she had problems. “I’m sorry, Maria.”

  “Me, too. It’s been rough, but we’ve all put it behind us now.” Maria glanced at the clock on the wall. “I hadn’t meant to stay so long. Or to vent. I really should get home.” She scooted back her chair and got to her feet. “I’m sorry for…”

  Amy placed a hand on Maria’s forearm and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t be. The next time we have tea, I’ll probably be the one venting. It’s nice to think that, when I do, you’ll listen to me.”

  “Thanks.” Maria smiled, her brown eyes lighting up.

  Amy wondered if she’d smile and be understanding when she learned that Amy really didn’t plan on moving into Ellie’s house at all. That she was only here to snoop. But maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe they’d somehow reached a level of friendship that allowed them to share things they’d be embarrassed to tell anyone else.

  She hoped so, because next time she and Maria talked, she just might let the cat out of the bag.

  On her way home to relieve Barbara, Maria couldn’t believe she’d opened up and let Amy know her darkest secrets. But her new neighbor had been easy to talk to, and it had been so long since she’d had someone she could confide in.

  As she entered the living room, where the kids had been locked on the television screen, Wally fussed about going home before Cars was over.

  “He’s being so good,” Amy said. “I don’t mind if he stays.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. As soon as the movie’s over, I’ll bring him and Sara home.”

  So Maria agreed, thinking that she’d come back and check on him later. As she closed the door and strode down the sidewalk, she spotted Eddie in her yard rather than in Amy’s. He was pruning the hedge that ran along their shared property line.

  “I appreciate you doing that,” she told him, “but I can’t afford to pay you.”

  “You don’t need to. Consider it a favor. I can’t very well trim one side without it looking weird, so it’s no big deal.”

  It seemed like a big deal to her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something to lighten her load.

  The sun glistened off the ebony strands of his hair, and when he tossed a smile her way, his eyes twinkled. She could almost imagine acting upon the attraction she felt, upon the kindness he’d shown, but it was
crazy to let her thoughts stray in that direction.

  Eddie was clearly the kind of guy any young woman would be lucky to date. But Maria wasn’t just any young woman. She was a mother of three, with a slew of bills that kept her adding and re-adding her check register at the end of the month, hoping to make ends meet.

  A breeze whipped a strand of her hair across her face, and she tucked it behind an ear.

  “Mom?” Danny called from the house. “Good. You’re home.”

  Maria tore her gaze from Eddie, relieved to have a reason to quit gaping at him. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to know if I can go to Jason’s house. His mom said he isn’t contagious anymore.”

  “All right, but where’s Captain?”

  “He’s in his room, looking for his glasses.”

  “Will you help him find them before you leave?”

  “Aw, Mom. Do I have to do everything around here?”

  Did she ask too much of him?

  Or was he only trying to make her think that she did?

  Her maternal instinct told her it was the latter. “Check outside. He was reading earlier in the lawn chair under the shade.”

  Danny clucked his tongue, then dashed off.

  Maria looked at Eddie and shrugged, offering him a what’s-a-mom-to-do? expression.

  “You’re a good mother,” he said.

  “I try, but at times like this, he makes me wonder if I’m falling short.”

  “That’s part of a kid’s wiring.”

  “To make his mother question herself?”

  “Actually, I think it’s a ploy to have his own way. But don’t let self-doubt get to you.”

  That was easier said than done.

  “If his dad was standing here right now,” Eddie said, “he’d tell you the same thing.”

  That was doubtful, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

  Moments later, Danny returned, a bit out of breath. “Captain’s got his glasses. You were right. He left them outside. So can I go now?”

  “Okay. Have fun.”

  But before her son could run off, Eddie placed a man-sized hand on his small shoulder. “You only have one mother, Danny. And she’s got a lot on her plate. It’s not too much for her to ask your help. She deserves your support and your respect.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  The boy and man eyed each other, and the silence spoke volumes.

  “Yes, sir,” Danny said, turning to Maria. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Eddie gave him a warm grin and a pat on the back. “Thanks for doing your part. Now go have fun.”

  When he was gone, Eddie turned to Maria. “I’m sorry for interfering.”

  “I hate to admit it, but I’m glad you did.”

  Eddie studied the attractive single mom, thinking that she looked a lot like Cecelia. Shorter, though, and prettier. He supposed that was reason enough to let his interest in her slide, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

  “Have you given any more thought to letting Danny come with me to baseball practice on Saturday?”

  She bit down on her bottom lip. “Not really, but I suppose I should. It’s just that…” She paused as if having a hard time explaining herself.

  He thought he knew what was bothering her, though. His mom had always been fussy about where he and his brother went and who they spent time with. And while he figured his mother had always been a little over the top about it, he understood the hesitancy, the maternal concern.

  “The offer still stands,” he said. “If you’d feel better going with us, you’re more than welcome to come along.”

  “Truthfully?” A slow smile slipped across her face. “Yes, I’d like to go, too. But I’d have to get a sitter.”

  “You don’t need to, but that’s up to you. There’s a playground at the park, so Sara and Wally would have a good time if you brought them.”

  She frowned and bit down on her bottom lip again. “I wish it were that easy. My elderly houseguests need someone to look after them, so I’d have to ask a friend to stay with them. But I’m not sure whom to ask. I won’t know for sure until Friday night. Maybe even Saturday morning.”

  “No big deal. Just let me know when you can.”

  “All right. Thanks for understanding.”

  She remained next to him, as if it wasn’t that easy to walk away. As if she were as drawn to him as he was to her.

  He had half a notion to ask her out while they were standing there—to dinner or a movie or something. But if it was that tough for her to get out of the house, maybe he’d have to think of something they could do without leaving.

  “Well,” she said, nodding toward her door. “I really need to get inside.”

  “Okay.”

  She still didn’t move.

  And neither did he.

  There seemed to be something brewing between them, something that caused his pulse to kick up a notch, his senses to reel.

  Don’t fight it, he wanted to say to her. But he couldn’t do that. Not when he wasn’t sure if he could provide her and the kids with what they needed—and he didn’t mean financially.

  Finally, she took a step back, slowly spun around, and headed for the house.

  As much as he ought to return his focus to his work, he watched her go, watched the veil of long, dark hair swish across her back, watched the alluring sway of her hips.

  He hadn’t dated much since getting out of prison. When he’d lost Cecelia and had been charged with vehicular manslaughter, he’d thought that his whole life was over. That he’d never find peace.

  But after five years, the pieces had finally started coming together again.

  He finished clipping Maria’s side of the hedge, then scanned her yard.

  What would it hurt for him to clean out that flower bed along the side of her house one day after work? Or to trim the scraggly bougainvilleas that grew wildly along the fence?

  That was one way he could help her out, to make her life easier.

  And a way to make sure that he would get a chance to talk to her again.

  While the kids watched the cartoon movie on television, Amy headed upstairs. She figured she had an hour or so before she would have to walk Maria’s children home and then drive Callie back to the townhome. That is, if they continued to watch TV quietly. Even Wally, the little boy, seemed to be enthralled with the movie.

  Still, she would be checking on them periodically and listening carefully. As she reached the top of the landing, she made her way to the nearest bedroom, one she hadn’t tackled yet. This room, with its pale yellow walls, was decorated much the same as the others, but she noticed an old-fashioned, pedal sewing machine sitting near the window.

  Amy wondered if it really worked. Steph Goldstein had one that was similar, but someone had taken out the machinery and made it into a plant stand.

  On a table next to the antique machine, she spotted a pair of pinking shears, a pin cushion, and a thimble.

  So Ellie Rucker had been a seamstress, too. Was there a talent the woman hadn’t had?

  Nevertheless, Amy didn’t have time to waste, so she went to the closet and surveyed the items she would pack into boxes later.

  Like the other two closets she’d already emptied, this one had built-in shelves for storage, too. She had to tiptoe to reach the highest shelf, which held two afghans. One was made out of autumn-colored yarn—gold, brown, and orange. The other had been knit in shades of blue.

  She removed them both and placed them on the bed, then went back to work.

  The next shelf held a crocheted tablecloth—off-white, she decided—and several matching doilies, which she set next to the afghans. She also found a stack of dish towels that had been pressed and wrapped in tissue. All seven of them had been embroidered with a day and chore of the week. Monday was Washday, Tuesday was Ironing Day…

  Had they been a gift Ellie had received? Or something she’d made herself and planned to give away?

  Amy supp
osed she’d never know, as she continued to remove all of the items the old woman had stored.

  When she reached the middle shelf, she ran across another journal. Well, actually, it was only part of one. The pink cover had very few pages attached. The bulk of the book was missing. As she lifted the cover to get a better look, strings dangled from where the spine used to be.

  That’s weird, she thought, wondering how it had come to be separated. It looked as though it had been ripped apart, although she could be wrong.

  She studied the pink cover. With a collage of antique dolls, it would definitely appeal to a little girl. Had this one belonged to Barbara? Had she kept a journal to record her thoughts and reflections, too?

  Amy carried what remained of the book to the bed, took a seat on the edge of the mattress, and began to read.

  No, she realized, as she looked at the very first page, it wasn’t Barbara’s journal. The familiar script was Ellie’s.

  October 3, 1942

  It feels strange to be writing again. After Harold’s death, it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. The heartache of his loss was almost unbearable, but I had to pull myself together for our child.

  As the baby grew, its movements within my womb helped me keep Harold and our love alive.

  Would it be a boy or a girl? I wondered time and again. Would I have a son or a daughter to love?

  Thoughts and dreams of the baby we’d conceived kept me going through the dark and lonely months of summer.

  Then, in the afternoon of September 18, 1942, my water broke, and I knew our baby would soon be here. All through a long, grueling night, I felt Harold with me, urging me to be strong, to hold on. And when I thought I would surely die, that the pain would never ease, Barbara Ann Rucker came into the world at dawn.

  Joy comes in the morning, they say. And that was certainly true that day. Barbara’s cry was the most glorious sound I’d ever heard.

  When I finally held our little girl in my arms, I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without her. What a blessing she is. And she’s beautiful, too, with a cute little nose and big brown peepers like Harold’s.