Page 89 of Midnight Valentine
I don’t know what it is, but something’s off.
When I hear the low rumble of engine noise coming from the street outside, I head downstairs. It’s Saturday, but Hillrise is working through the weekends to get the project as far as possible before the rainy season starts in full force. When I swing open the front door, Coop’s already walking up the steps of the porch, wearing his trademark smile.
“Mornin’, Megan!”
“Morning, Coop. Question for you: why hasn’t my deposit check to Hillrise cleared my account yet?”
Wearing his usual outfit of flannel shirt and jeans, he leans against the doorframe and grins down at me. “’Cause I haven’t deposited it.”
I inspect his face. “I sense there’s a reason other than that you just haven’t had time to get to the bank.”
His smile widens. When he doesn’t answer, an alarm bell goes off in my head.
“No. Oh, no, Coop, that’s not happening!”
“What’re you talkin’ about?” He blinks, the picture of innocence.
“You’re going to deposit that check first thing Monday morning. These guys need to get paid. You need to get paid. There’s too much material and labor costs on this project to do it for free!”
“Aw, that’s real sweet. But don’t you worry about me and the boys. We’re gettin’ paid. And the bills for the material and equipment are gettin’ paid. Hillrise’s got plenty of dough.”
I throw my hands in the air. “If you’re not taking my money, I’m firing you!”
He bursts out laughing. “Now there’s some female logic if I ever heard it! If somebody told me I’d get my house renovated at no cost, I’d be doin’ somersaults on the front lawn!”
“I’m serious, Coop, this is bullshit!”
He shrugs, as if there’s nothing he can do about the situation. “Sorry, ma’am, I don’t make these decisions. You’ll have to take it up with the owner.”
Fuming, I blow out a hard breath. “I would, but the owner isn’t available by email or cell phone. You have any idea how I can get a hold of him?”
He gazes at me for a while, his eyes thoughtful. “Carrier pigeon?”
I send him a withering scowl. “Oh, you’re funny. Ha. Friggin’. Ha.”
He presses his lips together to try to stop from laughing, which only pisses me off even more.
“Coop, what the hell is going on? Where’s Theo?”
Workers start to file up the pathway to the front door, talking and joking with each other. Coop pulls me aside into a quiet corner, then keeps his voice low. “He’s gettin’ help, okay?”
“Help? What does that mean?”
Coop drags a hand over his blond head and sighs. Then he props his hands on his hips and looks me dead in the eyes. “It means he checked himself into a facility in Melville.”
Facility. I swallow, fighting the same anxiety I felt upstairs. “What kind of facility?”
He says gently, “You know what kind.”
Horrified, I whisper, “A mental hospital?”
?
??They got a good program over at Acadia. Great success rate. And it’s not full-time, he can leave at night and over weekends if he wants to.” He looks uncomfortable when I keep staring at him in disbelief. “It’s not court mandated or anything. He volunteered.”
I stumble over to the stairs, cursing the lack of chairs in the house. I sit heavily on the second step and grip the banister, trying to stop the room from spinning.
Theo checked himself into a mental hospital. According to what Coop told me at church, he was stable before I moved here—but now he’s taking a vacation at a funny farm.
