“Go ahead,” I told him. “Nothing to see here.”
Of course, he didn’t agree with this. Instead, as Cora’s and Jamie’s voices drifted down from upstairs—discussing me, I was sure—he came closer, tags jingling, and plopped down at my feet again. Funny how in a place this big, it was so hard to just be alone.
An hour and a half later, dressed and ready with Cora’s money in my pocket, I headed outside to ask Jamie for directions to the shortcut to the mall. I found him at the far end of the yard, beyond the now sizable and deep hole, talking to a man by Nate’s fence.
At first, I assumed it was one of the guys from the digging company, several of whom had been milling around ever since the backhoe had arrived. Once I got closer, though, it became apparent that whoever this guy was, he didn’t drive machinery for a living.
He was tall, with salt-and-pepper gray hair and tanned skin, and had on faded jeans, leather loafers, and what I was pretty sure was a cashmere sweater, a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses tucked into his collar. As he and Jamie talked, he was spinning his car keys around one finger, then folding them into his palm, again and again. Spin, clank, spin, clank.
“. . . figured you were digging to China,” the man was saying as I came into earshot. “Or for oil, maybe.”
“Nope, just putting in a pond,” Jamie said.
“A pond?”
“Yeah.” Jamie slid his hands into his pockets, glancing over at the hole again. “Organic to the landscaping and the neighborhood. No chemicals, all natural.”
“Sounds expensive,” the man said.
“Not really. I mean, the initial setup isn’t cheap, but it’s an investment. Over time, it’ll really add to the yard.”
“Well,” the man said, flicking his keys again, “if you’re looking for an investment, we should sit down and talk. I’ve got some things cooking that might interest you, really up-and -coming ideas. In fact—”
“Ruby, hey,” Jamie said, cutting him off as he spotted me. He slid an arm over my shoulder, saying, “Blake, this is Ruby, Cora’s sister. She’s staying with us for a while. Ruby, this is Blake Cross. Nate’s dad.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mr. Cross said, extending his hand. He had a firm handshake, the kind I imagined they must teach in business school: two pumps, with solid eye contact the entire time. “I was just trying to convince your brother-in -law it’s a better thing to put money in a good idea than the ground. Don’t you agree?”
“Um,” I said as Jamie shot me a sympathetic smile. “I don’t know.”
“Of course you do! It’s basic logic,” Mr. Cross said. Then he laughed, flicking his keys again, and looked at Jamie, who was watching the backhoe again.
“So,” I said to Jamie, “Cora said you could tell me how to get to the mall?”
“The mall?” Jamie asked. “Oh, the greenway. Sure. It’s just down the street, to the right. Stones by the entrance.”
“Can’t miss it,” Mr. Cross said. “Just look for all the people not from this neighborhood traipsing through.”
“Blake,” Jamie said, “it’s a community greenway. It’s open to everyone.”
“Then why put it in a private, gated neighborhood? ” Mr. Cross asked. “Look, I’m as community oriented as the next person. But there’s a reason we chose to live here, right? Because it’s exclusive. Open up a part of it to just anyone and you lose that.”
“Not necessarily,” Jamie said.
“Come on,” Mr. Cross said. “I mean, what’d you spend on your place here?”
“You know,” Jamie said, obviously uncomfortable, “that’s not really—”
“A million—or close to it, right?” Mr. Cross continued, over him. Jamie sighed, looking over at the backhoe again. “And for that price, you should get what you want, whether it be a sense of security, like-minded neighbors, exclusivity—”
“Or a pond,” I said, just as the backhoe banged down again, then began to back up with a series of beeps.
“What’s that?” Mr. Cross asked, cupping a hand over his ear.
“Nothing,” I said. Jamie looked over at me, smiling. “It was nice to meet you.”
He nodded, then turned his attention back to Jamie as I said my good-byes and started across the yard. On my way, I stopped at the edge of the hole, looking down into it. It was deep, and wide across, much more substantial than what I’d pictured based on Jamie’s description. A lot can change between planning something and actually doing it. But maybe all that really matters is that anything is different at all.
Chapter Five
Maybe it was my talk with Cora, or just the crazy week I’d had. Whatever the reason, once I got to the mall, I found myself heading to the bus stop. Two transfers and forty minutes later, I was at Marshall’s.
He lived in Sandpiper Arms, an apartment complex just through the woods from Jackson that was best known for its cheap rent and the fact that its units were pre-furnished. They were also painted an array of pastel colors, candy pinks and sky blues, bright, shiny yellows. Marshall’s was lime green, which wasn’t so bad, except for some reason going there always made me want a Sprite.
When I first knocked on the door, nobody answered. After two more knocks, I was about to pull out my bus schedule and start plotting my ride home, but then the door swung open, and Rogerson peered out at me.