She responded, they made love, then lay askew on the bed as the clock struck double digits.
“I’m hungry,” he said.
“I bet you are.” She giggled. “I can make toast or burnt toast.”
“I’ll make breakfast.”
She fell silent. She didn’t move. Still, he felt her tense.
“What’d I say?” he asked.
She rolled to her side. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“No.”
“When we moved up here, you said you’d cook breakfast before you left for work each day. You said we’d eat together.”
“You sleep in every chance you get.”
“Only on the weekends. I get up for school most days.”
He thought back but couldn’t remember. “What happened?”
“You went into work earlier and earlier, stayed later and later. Then you started traveling. Off you went.”
“Ouch. Is that some of the brutal honesty we’re embracing?”
“I suppose so.”
“Maybe I should teach you to cook. Although there are a million cooking websites on the internet.”
“Ooooh.” She growled and hit him with a pillow. “I don’t care about learning to cook. I can make burnt toast just fine.”
He grabbed her. Pinned her beneath him and looked down into her beautiful brown eyes.
They shone with a spirit of play. Her face was still slightly flushed, her hair mussed. Her skin was soft. Her unique scent, amazing.
He scanned her stunning face, determined to commit to memory the slope of her cheek and the curve of her eyelashes. He studied her neck, then measured her collarbone with kisses.
She’d often accused him of forgetting her. Out of sight, out of mind, she’d said.
How—in a million lives—could he forget her? Forget this?
“I thought you were hungry,” she said.
“I am.” He raised his head. “For every moment with you.”
“Charmer.”
“Is it working?”
She wrestled to suppress a grin, then gave up and laughed. “I suppose.”
“Good. Get used to it.”
She ran her fingers through the curls on his forehead. “Don’t we have to leave soon to meet that attorney?”
“Yes. But first, I’m making you breakfast.”
“Why? I can make do with toast.”
“Because I promised you I would before, and I never did.” He turned his face into her palm. “I’m sorry, Angelina. Forgive me. I’m still learning.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Enter His gates with thanksgiving And His courts with praise.
As Nick walked into the sanctuary behind Angelina, he couldn’t help thinking of the verse in Psalms and agreeing with it. Being at church with his wife made him happy.
The steel and glass structure was nothing like The Barn Church back in Rowe City, except for one thing, the most important thing: God’s Spirit was present. Nick recognized it, had come to depend on the knowledge that His presence would meet him and others as they worshipped, listened, and learned.
About halfway down the aisle, Nick and Angelina slipped into a row, sat. On video screens over the stage, announcements scrolled.
“Look.” Angelina pointed.
Marriage Retreat, the screens read.
“I’d forgotten to mention it to you,” she said. “It’s next weekend. Let’s go.”
“Okay. How do we sign up?”
She flipped over the bulletin in her hand. “Five minutes until service starts. Supposedly we can register online. I’ll try.”
She used her phone, finished as the worship team walked onto the platform.
“Done.” She smiled. Kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Nicholas, I feel like we’re finally in sync. I love you so much.”
“I love making you smile.”
The band and singers started the first song. Beside him, Angelina hummed. He wasn’t much of a singer, but he appreciated the lyrics posted on the video screens, encouraging him to count his blessings.
His wife, of course.
His relationship with God.
His career.
The prospect of a financially stable future, even if he chose to resign from Jenkinsons. Before his vacation was over, Gavin Hawk would get back with him and Angelina with options, possible investment and savings plans.
He knew God had been helping him with job tasks. Giving him ideas. Helping his mind stay clear and alert. Infusing him with energy when he was so tired he almost couldn’t see straight.
Dear Heavenly Father, You reached for me and met a need I didn’t know I had. I didn’t know my spirit yearned for You. I want to grow. I want to learn even more about You and about being a good husband. Please guide me into the next season of my life.
The singing stopped. The ushers proceeded down the aisle with offering plates in hand.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. “Let me step out.”
“Can’t it wait?” Angie asked.
“I’ll only be a minute.”
He walked into the lobby and quickly returned the call, explaining to the client he was unavailable for the next two weeks.
“Nick. How ya doing, buddy?”
Upon hearing his name he turned, ended the call, and strode across the lobby to shake his friend’s hand. “Hey, Ryan.”
“You’ve been gone a while.”
“Yeah. I was in Switzerland, then Mobile.”
“That’s a contrast, right?”
“For sure,” Nick said. “How’s Kristen?”
“She’s good. Due in a couple months.”
“That’ll be quite a change for you two.”
“And Angelina?”
“She’s good. She signed us up to go to the marriage retreat next weekend. You guys going?” Nick asked.
“Planning on it. You know there’s a workbook to download and complete first, right?”
“No. I better mention that to Angie.”
“You home this week?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. And on vacation. Why?”
“I remember you saying you might be interested in getting into real estate, flipping houses and such. My brother’s a realtor. He called me about some properties coming up for auction. I want another income stream with the baby coming. You want to go with me to see them, maybe catch a bite to eat? Just to see how it all works.”
“Maybe.” He wouldn’t actually buy anything that would demand time away from Angelina. “Give me a call.”
***
List three promises you’ve kept to your mate.
Nick tapped his pen on the kitchen table and read on.
List three promises you haven’t kept to your mate.
He really didn’t want to look at the first rocky years of his marriage when he’d pretty much failed at being a husband. He didn’t want to think about them.
What was the writer getting at? Wasn’t there a Scripture stating once someone gave his life to God, he was a new creation? The old had passed away?
Why talk about the past?
He had all day to sit there and work on this thing, then pack and meet Angelina for the marriage retreat. She’d be going straight from the art institute after classes. But he didn’t want to do the workbook. If page one asked these types of questions, what would page five or ten be like?
His cell rang. The number flashed on caller ID.
“Hey, Ryan. Thought you forgot about me.”
“No, man. It’s been a busy week. You free today? I’ve got the day off, a full tank of gas, and a list of addresses. Want to look at some properties?”
He glanced at the workbook. He’d do it later. In the hotel room tonight if he had to. “Sure.”
“I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
“Deal.”
He pushed back from the table, looked toward his office. Hadn’t he kept the real estate investing DVDs he’d bought right after he and Angelina married?
He s
earched through the cabinets and boxes in his office closet. Found the case holding all ten DVDs, the forms guides, the checklists to use when viewing properties.
This might not have been a bad investment after all.
He made copies of the forms and checklists, stuck them in a folder. When the doorman buzzed Ryan’s arrival, he hurried down, folder in hand. He opened the car door to the smell of fresh coffee and donuts.
“Fuel.” Ryan pointed to the large coffee in the cup holder, then pulled onto the street. “There are three I want to look at, four if we can squeeze it in. Last one’s a block of ten duplexes, twenty units in all.”
“How much monthly profit would there be? How much taxes, insurance—what do they call it?—carrying costs?”
“You been reading up?” Ryan glanced at the folder.
“I remember from a course I bought years ago. Brought the checklists, just in case.”
“Man, you are the most organized dude.”
“Gotta be, in my line of work.”
They toured a three-bedroom ranch in a Birmingham suburb. The house had been trashed. All plumbing and electrical had been ripped from the walls. The cabinets were gone, the windows smashed. They agreed too much money and time would be needed to get it rented before Kristen delivered.
The second home mirrored the first. The third, a two-story frame on a large plot, had potential.
“Termites.” Nicholas pressed his thumb against a doorjamb.
“How do you know?”
“See the brown dusty stuff on the floor? That’s their droppings. I have a client who lost a bunch of product in a warehouse when termites ate through the second floor. It crashed down on the first.”
Ryan shone a flashlight along the baseboards. “It’s everywhere. This whole house looks infested. Let’s hit the duplexes. I’ll text my brother.”
They grabbed lunch, drove to the last property.
“You sure this is it?” Nick asked. The buildings looked to be in good condition.
“There’s my brother, David,” Ryan said. “He always wears that Crimson Tide cap.”
They parked. David motioned them over to the curb.
“You will not believe this.” David led them to the first building while adjusting his cap. “The owner called me this morning to make an offer on a home I have listed. He mentioned this property, which I thought was being auctioned next week. Anyway, the auction company bungled the dates on their website, didn’t update them until a little while ago. This thing’s being sold in an hour, and hardly anyone knows. The owner’s made his money and wants out. This unit’s empty, the others are rented. I can show you the numbers, profit/loss statements. This place is a goldmine.”
The unit was dated. 1970s colors. Linoleum flooring. Only two bedrooms, one bath.
But it was also concrete block construction with stucco. The cabinets, all wood. Plumbing and electrical had been updated within the last decade, and central heating and cooling installed in all units. All the costly work had been done. With paint and a little decorating, the property would bring a much higher price.
Nicholas looked at the spec sheet David had given Ryan. “What’s a bonus room?”
“It’s at the back. A second living area, oddly shaped. Could be an office.”
“Ryan.” Nick motioned with his head. “Let’s check it out.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I might have an idea.”
The bonus room was long and narrow, with a peculiar alcove to the side on one end.
Nick spread his arms in the alcove. “Six, seven feet, don’t you think?”
David pulled a tape measure from his pocket. “Let’s see. Five by eight.”
Ryan crossed his arms. “You’re acting like you’re the one looking to buy. You want to go in with me?”
“Hold on.” Nick scanned the space, walked back into the main room. “Is each unit like this one, with the funny jut out in the back?”
“I believe so,” David said.
Nicholas tapped his thumbs against each other. “Three bedroom units make a lot more than two bedroom ones, right? Take the alcove, make it a master bath.”
“I knew I was supposed to bring you along,” Ryan said. “You’re a genius. But I couldn’t renovate them all before the baby comes. People live in all the others.”
Nicholas shook his head. “We do this one first. Use the increase in rent money to do the next one that’s vacant, and so on.”
“We?” Ryan asked.
“He’s right,” David said. “A few years from now, this place would make twice as much as it does now.”
“I’m going to look at the outside.” Nick walked to the front door, leaving the brothers behind.
He wanted these duplexes. He wanted them so badly his hands itched.
He thought of his bank account. If he and Ryan made an offer together, he wouldn’t deplete all of his reserves.
What about Angelina?
Being a property owner and managing long-term renovations would take a lot of time.
You told her you were a team. That means working together. Not making decisions without her.
He walked around the building once, twice. He strode to the others and scanned the exteriors.
As David had said, this place was a gold mine.
Call her. Don’t do this without calling her.
He took out his cell. His finger hovered over her number.
Angelina wouldn’t want him to do this. He knew she’d say he was quitting one job—Jenkinsons—only to take on another, investing in real estate.
Don’t make a decision like this one without talking to your wife.
“Nick!” Ryan walked toward him. “David’s on the phone with the owner. He’ll lower the price by five percent if we put money down today. We can meet with my banker this afternoon about the loan and have the contract signed by morning. You in?”
Nick grinned with excitement. But …“What about the marriage retreat?”
“There’ll be another. Opportunities like this come once in a lifetime.”
Inside, he braced as if someone nudged him and he struggled to stand his ground. No way was this a bad decision. The profits were guaranteed. He’d be sharing the minimal risk with a friend and fellow believer. Worst case scenario, they would sell it to break even. No harm, no foul.
“I’m in.”
***
At the hotel’s front desk, Angelina checked her phone. No missed call, no text from Nick.
“Hi. I’m Angelina Rousseau.”
“Good evening. I have you down as attending the marriage retreat.”
“Yes.”
The desk clerk processed her payment, then he returned her credit card. “Please enjoy our complimentary made-to-order breakfast in the atrium each morning.”
She almost laughed, then realized, no, he didn’t know about her lack of cooking skills.
“I absolutely will enjoy your breakfasts. Has my husband checked in?”
He consulted his computer. “I’m afraid not.”
“No matter.” She scanned the monochrome lobby with its typical tile floors, benches, and ferns.
“Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you.”
She took the elevator to the room. The door was thick and wide; when it sealed behind her, she heard nothing of the outside world.
Almost giddy, she called Nick but got voice mail. “Hey. Considering we haven’t spent a night in a hotel together since our honeymoon, I thought you’d like to know this one’s much nicer. I’m tempted to skip the classes and workshops and lock us in. Call me.”
She unpacked her toiletries on the marble bathroom counter. Hung her clothes on the rack beside the door.
Her cell chimed, an incoming text. Kristen’s name shone on the screen.
I’m in 305. Where R U? Ryan says they got a great rate and already have the keys. He just bought a drill and a saw. I hope Nick knows how to use them. LOL
Angelina texted b
ack. 312. Keys to what?
Be right there.
Dread rippled up her throat, pushing her to rise and open the door.
Kristen waddled toward her. “Ryan’s so excited. He’s absolutely tickled to work with Nick.”
“I don’t understand.”
Kristen’s pixie face furrowed in concern. “Didn’t Nick call you …”
Angelina heard the words duplex, loan, and investment.
“I guess it’s just you and me.” Kristen shrugged. “But that’s okay. It’ll be girl time.”
She felt the punch to the heart. Tasted the gall of disappointment.
“I’m not gonna stay. Sorry, Kristen.”
“But you already paid for the room.”
“I don’t care about the money,” Angelina said. “I never did.”
***
Angelina arrived at the apartment door, fumbled her keys, then hesitated. She still wasn’t ready to see Nicholas, still wasn’t ready to talk to him. But she had classes tomorrow. She needed her books, her work in progress, and her notes.
The door opened. “Nice of you to finally come home,” Nicholas said.
She entered, pulling her suitcase, and walked to the laundry room. He followed and stood watching her load her dirty clothes in the washing machine.
“You could have called,” he said. “Or at least answered your phone. Kristen told Ryan you didn’t even stay the first night.”
The way they’d been living the last year. Then, the limo, the dinner, the meeting with the attorney, going to church on Sunday, had all convinced her he’d finally changed his behavior. The idea to resign Jenkinsons had been his. From now on, we come first; you come first, he’d said. This time, he’d actually planned to permanently change their lives so he could spend more time with her. Live a life with her.
That’s what hurt so bad—this time he’d changed for more than a day.
She added detergent, closed the lid, and turned on the machine.
In times past when he’d broken his word to her, disappointed her, she’d gotten angry. They’d fought. He’d say he was sorry, she’d believe him, and open her heart again, hoping that time was the last.
Now she understood he would only keep his word until a reason not to came along. Until he chose to forget what he’d promised, like not making a big decision without her. And like going to a marriage retreat.
Abide With Me (The Barn Church Series Book 3) Page 8