Just Deserts (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 4) by Jinx Schwartz Read Free Book Online Page B

the pair a once over, but since the bow ties did not look as though they’d recently vaulted the fence, his glance was cursory.
    Georgia returned. “What I was going to tell you is, there are a few winter rentals around here. One of them is a new house, and I think it’s available. Owners live in Mexico this time of year.”
    “Who do I talk to?”
    “Hang on, I’ll find out.” She called someone from the phone behind the bar, and thirty minutes later I was on a guided tour of a fully furnished, all bills paid, hacienda-style home with mountain and golf course views to die for. The gourmet kitchen was right up my alley, but the pièce de résistance had to be the twelve-foot wide wraparound verandah. Taken as I was with the place, I was pretty darned certain it carried a price tag way over my budget.
    However, hope springs eternal, so I continued ogling the house while the manager parleyed with the owner who was, indeed, in Mexico. When he shut his cell phone he told me the house was available for the next four months. I crossed my fingers in hope and asked, “How much?”
    He told me, and added, “When you do the math, cheaper by the day than a local hotel.”
    There is a God, and She’s on my side today. “When can I move in?”
    “Got references?”
    I gave him my business card and the Trob’s phone number, not his private one, but the main switchboard that routes calls to the big wigs through a long line of minions at Baxter Brothers. These folks’ jobs seem to be weeding out unworthy callers, so I figured the agent would be duly impressed. He was, but also exasperated with being switched through line after front line. I could have cut through all the crap for him, but wasn’t about to give him the Trob’s private number, and my own American cell was not activated as yet.
    I took the phone from him and gave the next annoying foot soldier Wontrobski’s direct extension. My mentor clinched the deal for me by giving the property manager a name and number in Bisbee, assuring him that within ten minutes I’d be vouched for. Sure enough, a word from the local office of one of the biggest mining companies in the world, and quicker than one can say greased wheels I was no longer homeless.
    Because I am a single woman, a non-smoker with no pets, and had corporate backing, they’d settled for a month-to-month rental, plus a thousand dollar deposit. The Trob even agreed to foot the grand, and thanks to the wonders of electronic age banking, the deal was done, I had a key, and was left to unpack. Hot damn.
    Unloading my meager belongings into what seemed palatial digs after living on a boat took only a few minutes. I set up my computer, connected to the home’s high speed Internet service, added five hundred minutes to my old prepay cell phone, emailed the marina office with that number, and called the Trob back to thank him.
    “Blue,” he said.
    Sigh. “Like to elaborate on that?”
    “Bisbee blue. You can send me some for my rock collection.”
    “They have blue rocks here?”
    “Bisbee blue turquoise. Has chocolate brown veining.”
    “You’ve got it. Thanks again for the job, and the neat house. Bye.”
    “Bye.”
     
    My new home, although built in the middle of a cow pasture bordering a golf course, had everything I could ask for. Unlike most golfing community tract homes, this one sat alone, on a private, unpaved road. Peace and quiet reigned.
    Five miles up the main highway, at a small shopping plaza, I opened a bank account, then headed for Safeway. Gawking like a starving cat in a seafood store, I cruised the aisles. So many choices. More than one brand of bread; what a concept. My cart soon runnethed over, crammed to the gunwales with stuff I didn’t realize I’d missed in Mexico.
    Feta cheese, sourdough bread still warm from the oven, ice cream, and several other items that would not meet the approval of my diet conscious friend, Ms. Jan. However, my best friend, with her meddlesome calorie