All About Eve Page 2

  “You bet your boots I am. I had Edward drive me, the sweet man.” Edward had been his grandmother’s driver since before he was born. He’d always suspected there was something more than affection between them since she hadn’t bothered to remarry after her last husband died thirty years ago. He’d never known his own grandfather, and barely remembered Ruth’s sixth and final husband since he’d been scarcely more than a few years old when the man had died, but Edward had always been a constant in his life. One of the few.

  “I’ve decided to stay for a while. I’ll just go with you on the job, and Edward can take my bags to your house and get them settled in my room. Are you surprised, dear?”

  Jake shouldn’t have been surprised at all. Every couple of years Ruth got a wild hair and decided to move in for a month or two before heading off somewhere else. The woman had wanderlust like he’d never seen before. Only now, her surprise trip seemed like a slight inconvenience with the thought of that voice playing in his mind. He stifled his thoughts with shame and decided to make the most of their visit. Just in case she didn’t outlive everyone after all.

  “That’s great, Gran. We’ll take my truck.”

  Jake hung up the phone and put his jacket on, his heart lighter and his conscience absolved. All of Gran’s visits were memorable in his mind, and this one would be no different. He just had to watch her like a hawk, because she was a sneaky old lady and trouble followed her around every corner. He’d had to bail her out of jail on her last visit for chaining herself to a parking meter in front of the liquor store and protesting that they wouldn’t sell her any booze on Sunday.

  He locked the office behind him and wondered how he could have missed seeing the shiny black limo sitting in front of the Murphy-Madsen offices.

  “You’re as handsome as ever,” Ruth said, giving him a surprisingly strong hug despite her thin bones.

  “What can I say, I got all the Murphy good looks.” Hair the color of good whiskey, eyes like the deepest part of the sea, and all the confidence of someone who knew exactly what his appeal was to the opposite sex.

  “It’s a cross to bear, I know, dear. Why do you think I’ve gone through so many husbands?”

  He laughed and hoisted her into the cab of his Ford pickup, shiny red with the new smell barely clinging to the inside, and a silver toolbox attached to the bed.

  “When did you get this hulk of machinery? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Anything’s an improvement over what you used to drive.”

  “The other one’s in the car graveyard. couldn’t do anything to save it.”

  “Thank God for that at least.”

  “Hey, it was a good truck.”

  “I’ll never understand why you don’t have every luxury at your fingertips with as much money as you have. I didn’t work hard to leave it all to you and your cousin so you could live like a pauper.”

  “I’m just perverse that way, I guess.”

  “Just like your grandfather, bless his soul.”

  Jake decided not to ask. He didn’t want to have any more unnecessary information about the people in his family tree. He turned onto Apple Tree Lane and looked for the house number Eve had left for him on the phone, but he was pretty sure which house was hers without looking at the mailbox number. It sat at the end of the cul-de-sac, a huge Victorian monstrosity that screamed horror movie.

  “Holy God, would you look at that house?” Ruth said in awe.

  Jake had a whole different feeling. Disaster. He hoped there was no one inside. By the looks of it, it could come down at any moment. But of course there was someone inside. There was a car parked in the driveway—a snappy little convertible that would be hell for him to get in and out of considering the length of his legs.

  “I want you to stay here, Gran, until I know it’s safe.” Which would be never.

  “It doesn’t even look like the same house,” she said in response.

  Jake ignored her last comment, knowing she’d grown up in the area and had probably known the original owners. He made his way up the cracked sidewalk to the sagging front porch. He had his mini recorder ready and his notebook in hand, but he didn’t think there was enough paper in the world for him to write down everything that was wrong with this house.

  “Extensive structural damage to the frame of the house, the foundation’s unlevel and seems to have sunk quite a bit on the north side. Rotten wood throughout, probably caused by termites. Structure was probably built in the late 1800s, sometime after the Civil War, indicated by the complication and mix of styles,” he said into the recorder and then snapped it off.

  This was part of his burden and his joy. He could see what the house had looked like in its youth. Three stories of Victorian elegance, angled bay windows and crumbling towers that flanked both sides, sweeping porches and weeping willows. Grand parties would be held often with couples in love sneaking kisses in a garden filled with climbing roses, the scent floating across the breeze on cool summer nights. He could fix it. He could fix anything. And then he’d offer to buy it from her for the full asking price. He wanted this house, termites and all.

  He stepped gently up the stairs on the front porch, avoiding what looked like the weakest spots and praying that he left this meeting intact. He almost laughed out loud at the bright red welcome mat that sat in front of the door. Only if they had a death wish would anyone come to visit this woman.

  There was an old fashioned doorbell, the kind you had to pull and usually sounded like a dying cat, but he didn’t want the decibel level to start an avalanche, so he didn’t touch it.

  He took a deep breath and did what anyone else would have done. He knocked. And it turned out to be a mistake of epic proportions.

  He watched in slow motion as the heavy door fell backwards to the floor, frame and all. And then he continued to watch, his mouth open but unable to get any sound out, as the door fell through to what looked like a basement below. He stood in the middle of a huge cloud of dust, his eyes closed, hoping he wasn’t next when he heard the very voice he’d risked this death trap for.

  “Oh, bother. Does everything have to fall through to the basement? I still haven’t found the entrance yet.”

  ***

  Eve didn’t notice the man standing in shock at her threshold. She was too busy cursing herself for thinking it would be fun to restore a house back to its former glory.

  “Looks like you were right to call. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone in a more desperate situation,” a husky voice said. The gruff timbre of it sent chills over her flesh, and she looked up in surprise.

  The sight of the tall man in her doorway made her want to swallow her tongue. Oh my. This could not be George. George was supposed to be old, with wiry gray hair, milky blue eyes and overalls. This man was tall and muscled, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, dark brown hair with just a hint of red, and piercing blue eyes that made her forget she was supposed to be a professional. There would be a picture of this man under the definition of SEX in Webster’s Dictionary. Not to mention he made denim look damn good.

  “George?”

  “No, I’m Jake Murphy. George is on vacation for a couple of weeks, so you get me instead.”

  The blush that tinged her cheeks was enough to tell him she’d picked up on the double meaning. It was her own fault. She shouldn’t have looked at him like he was the flavor of the month at Ben and Jerry’s.

  “Oh, thank goodness. I thought my instincts had completely deserted me. You don’t look anything at all what I expected a George to look like.”

  Jake took a minute to look over the voice he’d lusted after for less than twenty-four hours and found he was surprised as well. He’d expected a Kim Basinger look alike, somewhere along the line of Nine ½ Weeks. The kind of woman men fantasized about, but also the kind of woman that scared the hell out them in real life. Eve Lovegood couldn’t have been more different, and he let out a quick sigh of relief.

  The woman had dirt streaked across her nose
and wore a man’s dress shirt over tight jeans. Her black hair was pulled back with a scarf and her bright green eyes were giving him the once over. At first glance she looked like a delicate fairy princess, but she could never be mistaken for a fairy with eyes like that. She was a sorceress, with eyes brilliant and sharp enough to cut emeralds.

  Boy, was he was toast. He rubbed his hand just under his heart and tried to catch his breath. He was about to say something that might get his face slapped when he heard the creak of the wood porch behind him. He whipped around and grabbed Ruth by the elbow before she ended up on the basement floor with the front door.

  “Gran, I told you to stay in the truck. It isn’t safe.” He tried to turn her around and get her back down the stairs, but she dug in and stood her ground, all ninety-five pounds of her, and her gaze was glued to Eve Lovegood.

  “Are you the owner of this house?” Ruth asked.

  Eve had never been more embarrassed in her life. She knew money when she saw it, considering she’d grown up in the same world, and this woman had plenty of it. She looked down at her dusty clothes and dirty hands and fought the urge to hide them behind her back.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Eve Lovegood.”

  “Good grief, girl. You bought the Shelley Sisters’ Whorehouse. I haven’t been here in ages.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jake tried to cover his laughter with a cough, but his Gran’s spontaneity never left anyone bored. He looked over at Eve and hoped she wasn’t too embarrassed by his grandmother’s statement, because not everyone would be happy to know they’d bought a whorehouse. He was surprised to see excitement on her face.

  “This is my grandmother, Ruth Murphy. You’ll get used to her smart mouth after a while.” He dodged her expected elbow and laughed at the mutinous expression on her face.

  “You scamp. You’ve never been anything but trouble. Is that any way to talk about an old lady?”

  “I don’t see any old lady,” he said giving her a wink.

  The affection was obvious between the two, and Eve was glad to know there was some substance beneath his looks because his grandmother looked like a handful. Ruth had a shocking sweep of white hair pulled back in a delicate coiffure and her high cheekbones spoke of breeding, but it was the sequined jeans and red leather jacket that had Eve raising an eyebrow. She was pretty sure she’d never met anyone as old as Ruth Murphy, and if she had she was pretty sure they all wore orthopedic shoes instead of red leather mules.

  “It’s nice to meet you. Was this really once a house of ill repute? How exciting.” Eve stepped around some of the dark spots in the floor and grabbed on to Ruth’s elbow. “I want to hear all about it. I knew this house had a sordid past. I could feel it as soon as I stepped through the door. Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll fix you something to drink.”

  Jake stood cemented to the floor, unsure what had just happened to make him lose control of the situation. He followed them into the kitchen to find them a solid surface to sit on. He was a little surprised Eve could feel the sordid feelings in the house through the layers of dust and falling debris.

  “Before you get started, ladies, let me make sure you’re going to be okay in here. Eve, if you’re planning on sleeping here we need to get started right away. My advice is to pack up and go to a hotel until we get the foundation leveled and the rotten wood torn out, but I can tell by looking at you that you’re stubborn.”

  “I am not. I’m a perfectly reasonable human being, but I bought this house and I plan on sticking through to the end, no matter what happens.”

  “I figured as much. I’m going to do a walk through and make some notes so I can work up an estimate. If we can get everything nailed down today I can have a crew here first thing in the morning.”

  “I don’t care about an estimate. I’ll pay whatever it takes to get this place looking like it did when it was built.”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that, since I’m a nice guy and don’t want anyone to take advantage of you.”

  “You should listen to him, dear,” Ruth said. “My Jake is one of the best men I’ve ever known. And he’s single too. He’s never even been engaged. I’m not saying he’s not experienced. I don’t want to give you that impression, but he’s sowed his fair share of wild oats, so you don’t have to worry about him fumbling around in the dark. What about you dear? Do you have a man in your life?”

  Eve’s face was as red as it could be under Ruth’s not-so-subtle probing, but Jake wasn’t about to throw her a life raft. He wanted to know the answer too.

  “No, I’m not in a relationship.” Not anymore, she added silently. “I’m pretty much married to my job.”

  The hands off signal couldn’t have been any clearer to Jake, which made him want to get to know her even more. What were the secrets that Dr. Eve Lovegood kept hidden behind frosty indifference? He guessed he was more like his grandmother than he thought because this stubborn streak of his sure didn’t come from his parents. They found very little in life that was worth breaking a sweat over. Not even their only son.

  “What is it you do, dear? I know you have money and breeding. We can recognize our own, after all, but I take it you’re involved in more than charities and endless functions?”

  Eve thought that from anyone else the comment would have been unbearably snobby, but Ruth said it so matter-of-factly that Eve barely gave it a thought.

  “I’m a therapist, but I don’t have a private practice anymore. I have a show on the radio in the evenings, and I write weekly articles for the advice columns in the paper. I’ll probably start seeing patients again after I get the house in order and an office set up.”

  “Dr. Lovegood?” Ruth asked, with awe. “I listen to your show every night. You give such good advice and you don’t show any sympathy for those doormat women and pussy-whipped men that call in asking for a miracle.”

  Eve wasn’t sure if she was more surprised that her sexy contractor’s grandmother listened to her show or that she’d actually said the word pussy-whipped.

  “A love doctor, huh?” Jake asked. He’d been still so long Eve had thought he’d already gone. “This should be interesting.” He smiled, gave her a wink and walked away whistling, stepping around rotted boards and flipping his tape recorder on. “Just in case, make sure you listen for my screams of pain if there’s some type of accident,” he called out over his shoulder.

  Oh, man. The guy had a set of dimples that wouldn’t quit. She’d always been a sucker for dimples, but now she was in the same spot she always was. After a man found out she was supposed to know everything about relationships, they inevitably assumed she was some sort of sex goddess. She was tired of being a disappointment to men when they found she not only couldn’t tell them the sexual secrets of the universe, but also that her only experiences with the act had left a great deal to be desired and a bitter taste in her mouth. Mediocre sex and even less affection was not a good foundation for marriage.

  Maybe it was time to put on a brave front and pretend she was as worldly as she seemed. She turned back to Ruth. “So, tell me all about this whorehouse.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Eve went over to her ice chest and wished she had something nicer to serve Ruth besides soft drinks and Ritz crackers.

  “I have cola and water. What will it be?” Eve asked rummaging around in her backpack to see if there were any more Oreos.

  “I’ll have a cola. It’ll drive Jake crazy,” Ruth said with a bit of devilment. Eve had a feeling that Jake got his trouble making abilities honestly.

  “I don’t want you to get in trouble.” She arranged the cookies on a paper plate and got two cans of cola out of the ice chest. She didn’t even have cups to pour them in.

  “I won’t get in trouble. Jake’s a big softy at heart. And even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t care. I’m old enough to get to do what I want to. I could die at any moment, you know.”

  “I doubt that,” Eve said. “You seem pretty spry to me.”
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  “I am that. I’ve buried six husbands, and not one of them could ever keep up with me. It’s a damn shame that men are such fragile creatures.”

  Eve sat down at the card table and chuckled. “I wonder why the realtor didn’t tell me this place had a history.”

  “He probably didn’t want to add any more black marks against its character. It’s not exactly in top form.”

  “Yeah, but I would have bought it sooner had I known.”

  Ruth smiled and laid her hand lightly on Eve’s arm. “More girls should be like you,” she said. “You remind me a bit of myself, though a little more uptight. We’ll work on that and see if I can be a bad influence.”

  Eve’s mouth hung open at the uptight remark, but Ruth didn’t seem at all contrite that she might have insulted her.

  “Margaret and Myrtle Shelley opened a high class bordello right after the First World War ended in 1918. They’d both lost their husbands overseas, and I guess they figured their prospects for another marriage weren’t all that great, so they opened this place up and just called it Shelley’s. And they did a right fine business, too.”

  Ruth’s eyes softened as she remembered. They were good memories, memories that held joy and youth.

  “Now when prohibition came along in the Twenties you can imagine that it put a severe dent in their business, so they turned the basement into a private bar and the place became a speakeasy. I was barely seventeen the first time I stepped foot into this place, newly married to Jake’s grandfather and green as an ear of corn. The Shelley sisters were quite a bit older by the time I made my appearance here, but they were still going strong.”

  A wistful smile tilted the corners of her mouth as she wetted her throat with the forbidden cola, and Eve felt like she was intruding on something special and private.

  “What a handsome man my Mitch was, and such a gentleman. I felt like a princess in a fairytale the first time I laid eyes on him. He was an experienced lover, which is something I’ll always be grateful for, but after he took those vows he was devoted to me until the day he died. I lost him in the war, you know.”