Page 105 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

“He’s fine.”

“Sierra? Pete?”

“They’re both fine—Gloria, you know Freida, she’s the receptionist on Ant’s floor—she lives close to your neighborhood. Since you’ve been in Vermont, she’s been doing ant a solid and driving by your place when she gets the chance.”

“Oh-kay…” My friends had someone watching my house for me? I didn’t know how to feel about this news except to say that I loved my friends hardcore.

“Glory, the police should be there soon to check things out.”

“The police? Where?”

“Your house. She didn’t know you were still in town and drove by. She called just a few minutes ago when she saw a light on to report someone squatting in your home.”

“Squatting?” I said dumbly because my mind still fumbled around the fact that my friends asked someone to watch myhome. A knock sounded on the front door. No, that wasn’t right. Pounding—loud, continuous pounding on the front door.

“This is the Beverly Hills Police. I need you to open up.”

“Hold on, Pen,” I said into the line as I walked over to the door and opened it and I was immediately shoved back by two police officers. He got me in my collarbone. Crap that hurt.

“We’ve gotten a call about someone illegally residing in this residence.”

“My name is Gloria Parker. I own this place.”

“I need to see some identification,” the officer demanded.

I nodded my head. “Let me get my purse.”

“Gloria?” Pen asked in my ear again.

“Just a minute, Pen,” I said to her as I scurried to the kitchen counter, where I’d dumped my purse off yesterday after returning from the airport. I fished through it to find my wallet and walked my ID back into the living room where the officers waited for me. “Here.” I handed the man closest to me my driver’s license.

“This says you live in Vermont,” he says and his demeanor turned scary.

“Yes. I live mostly in Vermont, but this is my childhood home. It was left to me and my mother after my father died. But my mother recently remarried and she left the house to me. I stay here when I come to visit.”

“Who is the title holder?” the second officer asked, making me jump because he’d been quiet all this time.

“It’s in Elizabeth Kowalski’s name. Let me call her.” To Pen, I said, “Let me call you back. I have to call my mom.”

“I’m so sorry. We didn’t think to tell her you’d be here for a while.”

“Pen, it’s a comedy of errors, but I have to get this taken care of.”

“Let me have Ant call the police.”

Pen hung up with me and I called my mom. “Gloria, this is a surprise.”

“Sorry, I know you’re on your honeymoon, but I have a little situation.”

“A situation?” she asked and that worried mom tone came out.

“Someone called the police because they thought someone was squatting in the house, but I’m still here in Michigan, so no one is squatting. It’s just me and I need to know where the title is located.”

“The title? To the house?”

“Yup.”

“It’s in the safe under the other important papers. Do you remember the code?”

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