Address to Die For Read Online Free Page B

who knew the truth would get him into trouble.
    I opened my mouth to speak, but questions flew around my head, forming sentences and breaking apart. Forming again and exploding. I closed my mouth and stared at him.
    â€œThat phone call? The one from Jim, from Influx?” Max said.
    I waited. He looked at the ground.
    â€œThey want me in the Bangalore office on Monday.”
    â€œIndia?”
    Max nodded. “I told them I needed to talk to you. That we hadn’t moved in yet and I didn’t know where my clothes were.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œThe moving company called. Their driver had emergency surgery last night, and they can’t get a new team together until Monday, and Monday is Labor Day.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œThey don’t work on Labor Day.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œThey’ll call later to reschedule.”
    â€œAnd you’ll be in Bangalore?”
    Max bit his lip, stared at me, and said, “I told Jim I’d talk to you and call him back. I wanted to discuss the ramifications without the boys around so we’d have a chance to think about it together, first. But then I found the guy in the basement and the police arrived. Jim’s called twice since, but I let it go to voice mail.”
    I shook my head, trying to recalibrate my expectations for the week. “I don’t even know what the time difference is or the travel time. What time do you have to leave here to be in Bangalore on Monday morning?”
    Max’s mouth dropped open and snapped closed. I guessed it wasn’t the question he’d expected. I suspected it wasn’t a question he’d thought to ask. I looked at him. I had nothing to say. And no idea where we went from here, except that I needed an Oreo.
    Without warning, I started laughing and sort of crying. I couldn’t stop. I laughed until my stomach ached. I bent at the waist, put my hands on my knees, and turned my head to look up at Max. He was laughing too. What else could we do? Crying wouldn’t help. Our plans were a mess. I’d need to scrap my priorities, schedules, and lists, and start over.
    After days of packing up our belongings and wrapping up our lives in Stockton, we were exhausted—too exhausted to nimbly adjust to drastic changes. I fell over and sat on the ground, still laughing, snorting, and wiping my eyes. Belle bounded up from the barn, not wanting to miss a minute of fun. She bounced around me and licked my face, then head-butted Max, wanting in on the joke.
    My laughter died out to a few maniacal giggles. Max stood, reached out a hand to help me up, and said, “Let’s go talk to the kids. Figure out how we’re going to make this work.”
    I stood, brushing off my jeans and wiping my hands on my shirt, surveying the neglected landscape that the caretaker had promised would be in perfect condition when we moved in.
    â€œOh, Max. Do you really think the man in the basement could be Javier? He was so nice when I phoned him about the measurements.” My eyes filled with tears and my throat tightened. I’d called the caretaker months earlier, worried that my grandmother’s antique wardrobe wouldn’t fit in the house. Javier provided the measurements of doorways, hallways, and stairs, but also asked for the dimensions of the old armoire. A few days later he sent me a short video of his grinning nephew carrying a refrigerator-sized cardboard box into the house, up the stairs, and down the hall to the master bedroom. They’d crossed out refrigerator on the box and marked it NANA’S CUPBOARD 4’ x 3’ x 8’.
    I smiled, sniffed, wiped my tears, and refocused my attention on Max.
    â€œI hope not, Maggie, but it has to be Javier, doesn’t it? Who else would it be?” Max brushed something from his eyes and scraped the ground with the toe of his shoe. “He was a great guy. Not only when I came to inspect the property in April, but back when I