The Fixer Upper Part 6

"Why is she so upset?" I asked.

The two men exchanged looks. Carter shrugged and looked away.

"Uh, Dempsey," Tee said. "Ella Kate took care of your uncle for a long time these last years. She just sort of a.s.sumed he would leave the house to her when he died. And when we told her about Norbert's will, and how he'd left the house to your daddy, well, she just went off."

"Went off? How do you mean?"

There was that look again.

"She's really pretty harmless," Tee said. "h.e.l.l, I don't think they even make ammo for that shotgun of Norbert's anymore. Really, once you get to know her, I think the two of you will get along just fine."

"She has a shotgun?"

"It's a lot cheaper than a burglar alarm," Carter said with a laugh.

My own look of alarm let them know I wasn't amused.

A thought suddenly occurred to me. "She's living at Birdsong? I could tell someone had been there recently. So it's Ella Kate?"

"That's right," Carter said. "Tee's been working on getting her used to the idea of moving."

"Not making a lot of progress," Tee admitted. "The last time I went over there to talk to her, she set Shorty on me."

"Son, that dog is downright elderly," Carter said. "He probably doesn't have a tooth in his head."

Tee pulled up the right leg of his pants and displayed a nasty oval-shaped bruise on his s.h.i.+n. "You think not?"

Now it was my turn to be upset. "You're telling me there's a shotgun-toting, dog-siccing, crazy old lady living in my house? Essentially squatting there? What am I supposed to do about that? I can't live with somebody like that."

"Live?" Carter said. "You weren't planning on living at Birdsong, were you? I mean, we just a.s.sumed you'd get a room at the Econo Lodge, or maybe rent a little place in town. Birdsong's all right for Ella Kate. She's used to it. But now, you don't want to be living in that place. It hasn't exactly been kept up so well."

"It's a disaster," I told him. "I only saw a couple of rooms inside, but the place is a total derelict. Crumbling plaster, exposed wiring, mildew. We had no idea. But yes. I am planning on living there while I get the house rehabbed and ready to sell. Didn't my father tell you that?"

Tee looked at Carter, who looked away.

"I meant to tell him about Ella Kate, and about Birdsong," Carter said. "But we just never actually had a conversation about the fine points. He called to tell me you were coming down, and that the plan was for you to get the house ready to sell." He gave me a sad smile. "It never occurred to me that you might plan to try to live there."

"Well, I am," I said, standing up. "In fact, I'll be moving in today. As in, right now. My friend is waiting outside, and she needs to get back to Decatur. I'll just get my things out of her car, and maybe one of you can call me a cab to take me back over to Birdsong? I want to get moved in and take a look around before it gets too dark."

"I'll take you over there," Tee said quickly. "I'll have a talk with Ella Kate too, while I help you with your stuff. If you're sure that's what you want to do?"

"I'm sure."

Carter shook his head sadly. "The Econo Lodge would be better. Satellite television. Free continental breakfast. They've got heat too."

"Birdsong," I repeated. "I'll be staying at Birdsong."

11.

Becky was talking on her cell phone when I came out of the law office with Tee Berryhill in my wake.

"Sorry for the delay," I said, making the introductions.

"Tee is going to give me a ride back over to Birdsong and help me get moved in," I said. "That way you can get on the road before traffic gets too terrible."

Becky gave Tee a friendly smile, and I knew she was sizing him up. "That's really sweet of you," she told him, getting out of the car. "Dempsey's going to need a friend down here."

"He's the lawyer handling the estate," I said quickly.

Tee flashed a grin. "I'm fairly friendly-as lawyers go. Look here. I'm parked in the back of the office. I'll pull around and we'll get you loaded up."

A couple of minutes later, Tee pulled his car to the curb in back of Becky's Honda.

"Oh, a Prius," Becky said. "How do you like it?"

"I love it," Tee said. "Course, you take a lot of ribbing in a town like Guthrie when you show up driving a hybrid. Down here, if it ain't a Caddy, it's either a Ford or a Chevy. I must have gotten half a dozen heavy-duty extension cords from my wiseacre buddies. Even my father refers to it as 'the granola mobile.'"

But when Becky opened the trunk of the Honda and he got a look at my large rolling suitcase his smile disappeared. "Oh," he said, blinking owlishly. "Man. I'm not sure that puppy will fit in my car."

Before he could stop me, I'd pulled the suitcase out of the Honda.

"Go on," I told Becky. "I don't want to make you late for your dinner."

"I hate leaving you like this," Becky said. "And I really hate the idea of you staying alone in that spooky old flophouse."

"I won't be alone," I said cheerily. "Remember the old lady walking the dog? We're going to be roommates."

"Huh?"

"I'll call you later and explain everything then," I said. "And I'll be fine. Really. It'll be like camping out."

"You never camped out in your whole life," she reminded me. She stuck her head out of the car and called to Tee.

"Hey. Can't you talk some sense into this girl? Make her check into a motel for a few days?"

He shrugged. "My dad tried to tell her it'll be pretty primitive at Birdsong. I got the impression your friend has her mind made up."

"d.a.m.ned straight," I said briskly. I pounded her car door. "Shoo! Move along."

"Call me," she repeated. She drove off, and I immediately started having doubts. But it was too late. Tee Berryhill had dragged my suitcase over to his Prius and was busily wedging it into the minuscule trunk.

"Your friend seems nice," he said when we were ready to leave.

"Becky's a sweetheart," I said. "We've been friends since boarding school days. I was the new girl-my parents had split up and my dad had taken a job in Orlando, and I didn't know a soul at St. Catherine's. Her parents had gotten a divorce too, so she knew what that was like."

"St. Catherine's," he murmured. "Is that in Georgia?"

"Richmond, Virginia," I said quickly. "Mitch moved a lot for his job, and he just thought it was better for me to be in a school where I'd have some sense of stability."

He nodded. It was dusk now, and as we pa.s.sed the darkened shops on Confederate, I felt a deep chill sink into my bones.

"Where do people shop?" I asked. "Is there a Target or anything like that?"

"No such luck," he said. "We had a Wal-Mart out on the bypa.s.s, but that closed down a couple of years ago. For groceries, you've got Piggly Wiggly or Bi-Lo. There's a Family Dollar store, you pa.s.sed that on the way into town. Anything more than the basics, you've gotta head down to Macon, or up to Peachtree City."

"Oh." It was starting to sink in. I was really and truly in the sticks.

He must have seen the depressed look on my face. "Guthrie's not such a bad place," he said quietly. "The economy could be better, but the folks down here are the real thing. Most of 'em, anyway."

"I'm sure it's a wonderful place," I said. "I don't mean to downgrade your hometown. It's just...I've been living in D.C. It'll be an adjustment, I'm sure."

"You mind if I ask what you're doing, moving down here? I mean, Dad told me you're a lawyer, been working as a lobbyist. Seems like a pretty high-flying life to give up and move to Guthrie."

I grimaced. "My job ended. Sort of...unexpectedly. And I thought I'd take a little time, maybe reevaluate my career path, before I just jump into another job. Mitch told me about Birdsong, and it seemed like an interesting opportunity."

While I was speaking, my inner voice was editing: Talk about major lobby-lingo double talk. Interesting opportunity? Face it, Dempsey, you're outta work, no prospects, no money, no home. Guthrie's your only shot.

"Interesting?" Tee said. "Yeah, it ought to be interesting, at the very least. What do you plan to do for transportation?"

I gave him a pretty smile. "That's where you might help me out. I guess I'll be buying something to drive. But I've been living in D.C. for so long, I can't even remember the last time I owned a car. Any thoughts about where I can pick up a set of basic wheels?"

"Well..." He pondered the matter. We'd arrived at Birdsong. It looked even gloomier at nightfall. From the curb I could see one tiny light s.h.i.+ning through the underbrush.

"There's the Catfish," he said finally. "Ella Kate used to drive it, but I think the sheriff finally sweet-talked her into giving up her license after she drove up over the curb trying to park at the courthouse. It ain't pretty, but it runs."

"The Catfish?"

"Your uncle Norbert bought it at a government-surplus auction. It's a Crown Victoria-you know, like a police cruiser? I'm guessing from the mideighties. It's about the size of the Queen Mary. Probably gets roughly the same gas mileage."

"A police cruiser?"

"Well, to be specific, I think it was a Georgia Highway Patrol car. But Norbert had it painted. Bulldog red, of course. He was a big UGA fan."

"Oh." I sat there looking at that dim light s.h.i.+ning through the tangle of weeds and trees. What had I gotten myself into?

"Hey," Tee said softly. "Why don't you just let me take you over to the Econo Lodge? Just for tonight. I could pick you up in the morning, bring you over here, give you a proper introduction to Ella Kate. It'll all look better in the morning, I promise you."

I bit my lip, sorely tempted to accept his offer. But no, I decided. Now or never.

"That's very kind of you," I said, my hand on the door. "But I really just need to get myself established here. You know, dig in my heels and get started?"

He laughed. "You're tougher than you look, aren't you?"

"We'll see."

He half-carried and half-dragged my suitcase up what was left of the driveway, cursing softly as branches and vines slapped at our faces and snagged on our clothes. "You're going to have to get a bush hog in here first thing," Tee muttered, holding a thick branch aside to let me pa.s.s.

"First you'll have to tell me what a bush hog is," I said, standing at the foot of the front steps and staring up at the house.

"It's kind of like a tractor," he explained, stopping beside me. He glanced down at his wrist.w.a.tch.

"It's after six. Full dark. According to my dad, Ella Kate goes to bed with the chickens."

"She keeps chickens?" I had a visual image of hens roosting in the rafters of my new bedroom.

He chuckled. "You really are a city girl. She goes to bed really early. Gets up early too. With any luck, Ella Kate's already tucked in her bed, fast asleep. And the two of you can have a proper meeting at breakfast."

When we got to the front door, I took out the key and fitted it into the lock. The doork.n.o.b turned, with some effort on my part, but the door wouldn't budge. I gave Tee a worried look. "Is there a dead bolt?"

"Don't know," he said. "Maybe. If Dad told Ella Kate you were coming over tonight, she just might have rigged up something to keep you out. I wouldn't put it past the old turkey."

Another poultry reference. Unsettling.

"Is there another door?"

"In the kitchen. Around the back of the house. Are you absolutely positive you want to do this? The Econo Lodge has a c.o.c.ktail lounge. It's still happy hour..."

I pushed a strand of hair behind my ears. "This is my family's property. I have every right to be here. Your father said so himself. You can go. But I intend to stay. You don't happen to have a flashlight in the car, do you?"

He sighed and held up his key ring, which held a tiny penlight.

We left the suitcase and haltingly made our way around to the back of the house. The shrubbery was spa.r.s.er on the side of the house, but our way was littered with all manner of junk-old garbage cans, garden equipment, wooden crates full of empty c.o.ke bottles, beat-up bicycles, even the rusting carca.s.s of an ancient Volkswagen bug propped up on concrete blocks and draped with kudzu vines.

"Hey," Tee said, waving the penlight over the bug. "This looks just like my dad's old VW. I wrecked it when I was seventeen-"

"Who's out there?" A high-pitched voice pierced the darkness, startling both of us. "I hear ya, you know. I'm old, but I'm not deaf. Speak up now, or I'll get my shotgun. I can use it too."

The dog started barking, staccatolike.

"Christ," Tee said, under his breath. "Miss Ella Kate! It's me, Tee Berryhill."

"Who's that? Shorty, hus.h.!.+"

The dog stopped barking.

Tee grabbed my hand and began pulling me toward the back of the house, where a yellow light shone down on a small porch stoop.

Ella Kate Timmons held up a withered hand to shade her eyes from the glare of the porch light. Her white hair stood up wildly around her head, like a barbed-wire halo. She was dressed in oversize men's blue flannel pajamas, with an old green army fatigue jacket as a bathrobe. In one hand she held the c.o.c.ker spaniel's leash, and in the other she held what looked like the shotgun Carter Berryhill had mentioned.

"Miss Ella Kate," Tee said breathlessly. "It's me. Tee Berryhill. Carter's son. We didn't mean to wake you up."