The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [105]
“I don’t see the harm in it, Jude,” Betsy said from her seat at the head of the table.
“There probably isn’t any,” Jude conceded. “As long as no one knows that you’re going.”
“No one will know. I won’t even tell Polly,” Dina promised, feeling energized. “I’ll call the numbers she gave me after breakfast and see what their schedules are.”
“If you can put it off till next week, it might be better. Maybe all this will be over by then.”
“Or the customers might have found another landscaper by then. It’s been a while since I had a total renovation job. It’s not only fun; it’s a great money-maker. Garden Gates needs a few jobs like this to keep solidly in the black. And frankly, it will be wonderful to have just a little touch of normalcy back in my life again.”
“Well, Jude, the morning’s slipping away. If we’re going to make that trip to the farmers market, I think we need to get going.” Betsy smiled at Dina and added, “We have a little cabin fever ourselves. I’m thinking that a drive down into Wayne might do us both some good. Want to come along?”
“No, I think I want to try to get in touch with Mrs. Fields and with the Dillons. Maybe the property they’re looking at is one that I already know. But you two have fun. . . .”
“I just need to run upstairs and get my jacket,” Jude said.
“Take mine,” Dina offered. “It’s right there on the chair by the back door.”
Dina smiled at both women, who seemed to be slightly more cordial toward each other this morning.
Thank God for small favors, Dina mused fifteen minutes later as she watched Betsy’s van disappear down the lane. I’ve had about all of their picking at each other that I can take.
Dina had had to leave voice mail for Mrs. Fields, but Mrs. Dillon answered the phone on its third ring. After the most perfunctory conversation, she gave Dina the address of the property that she and her husband were looking at.
“Is eleven this morning a good time?” Mrs. Dillon had asked.
Dina looked at the clock. It was ten past nine. “I think I can be there by then.”
“Great. We’ll see you there.”
Next Dina called Simon, but she had to leave a message for him as well: “I have a hot job prospect lined up—a garden restoration down around Henderson. Right now, it’s just a look-see, but it’s just the kind of work I love best. Anyway, I’ll be meeting my would-be client—pray that dear Mrs. Dillon loves whatever plan I come up with—and will be going right back to Betsy’s, I promise. Hope to see you soon.” She paused, then added, “I think I miss you, Simon.”
It wasn’t until Dina had gathered her purse and her sunglasses and was telling Mrs. Brady where she was going that she realized that her car keys were in her jacket pocket and her jacket had left the house with Jude.
“. . . but I should be back by . . . damn! I have no wheels.”
“Miss?”
“My car keys are in the pocket of the jacket my mother is wearing.”
“Perhaps you might take one of Miss Pierce’s cars,” Mrs. Brady suggested. “I drive them when I need to run errands, and she lets the grooms drive them all the time. I seriously doubt that she’d mind. She has the BMW—of course, that’s specially equipped for her, though she doesn’t really care to drive it—a pickup truck, and two Jeeps. Look there; there’s one of the grooms. Looks like Eric. Ask him to get you the keys for one of the Jeeps.”
“If you’re sure Betsy won’t mind . . .”
“Honey, she lets everyone else drive them; she won’t mind if you borrow one.”
“Eric!” Dina called out the back door as the groom crossed the drive toward the barn. “I wanted to use one of the Jeeps for a few hours. Mrs. Brady said you knew where the keys are.”
“Sure.” He waved her to the garage, and Dina met him there at the door, which he opened for her.
“You know how to drive stick?” he asked.
“I used to.” Dina nodded.
“Take the tan one, then,” Eric suggested as he removed a key from the rack inside the door. “It’s the newest.”
“Thanks.”
“Owners and insurance cards are in the glove box. Want me to back ’er