“No nail polish allowed in the living room,” Brooke decreed. “And no feet on the coffee table.”
“Are you kidding me? The couch is still covered in plastic.”
Brooke didn’t argue. She simply extended her hand and waited for Jamie to hand over the bottle.
“I thought you wanted to make people feel at home,” Jamie grumbled as she relinquished the nail polish.
“Not ‘people,’ darling—strangers. I want to make this a warm and cozy haven for strangers passing through. Close friends, on the other hand, must adhere to my draconian set of house rules.”
“All those paint fumes have finally driven you over the edge. Next thing we know, you’ll be forbidding us from making s’mores in the fireplace.”
Brooke shuddered. “Perish the thought. I just had the carpets cleaned. Oh, and as long as we’re talking housekeeping, I should give you fair warning that you’re going to have to vacate your rooms before next weekend. I need every available bed for paying guests.”
“We’ll pay,” Anna offered. “You can charge us double our usual weekly rate.”
“Too late. I’m already booked up.”
“Then where are we supposed to sleep?” Jamie asked.
“One of you can bunk in my room with me,” Brooke said. “The other two have a choice: basement or attic. We can set up cots.”
“Cots in the basement.” Jamie shook her head. “That is so Dickensian.”
“Dibs on Brooke’s room,” Anna said. “You and Cait will have to huddle up near the furnace with your coal-smudged cheeks and your bowls of gruel.”
“Where is Cait, anyway?” Brooke asked. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”
“Me, neither.” Jamie made a grab to reclaim her bottle of nail polish, but missed.
“You haven’t heard?” Anna said. “Cait’s in Florida. With Gavin.”
Jamie did a double take. “What the hell?”
“That’s exactly what I said. She told me she’d be back Monday and hung up before I could ask any more questions.” Anna patted Jamie’s platinum hair. “I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it during your sleepover in the basement.”
“I’m the wedding planner,” Jamie crossed her arms under her substantial bosom. “No way am I bunking in the basement.”
“Throw yourself on the mercy of the bride,” Anna suggested. “Maybe she can hook you up with a guest room at the president’s house.”
“It’s the least President Tait can do,” Brooke agreed. “After all, you are coordinating the happiest day of his life.” She broke off when she saw Jamie’s lips go white. “What is that face about?”
Before Jamie could reply, Anna’s Counting Crows ringtone blared through the room. Anna dug the phone out of her pocket, muttered, “Here we go again,” and then answered with artificial cheeriness. “Hi, honey, how are you? … I thought you said you’d be staying there for at least another month. … Oh really? What happened?”
Brooke started backing out of the room to allow Anna some privacy, but Anna stopped her with a stern look.
“Well, I can’t go anywhere right now, because I’ve committed myself to an important long-term project.” Anna remained outwardly blasé, but Brooke knew from experience that this was a warning sign. “I’m baking for two now. … It’s a long story, but I’ll be here at least through the holidays. … We’ll see. Maybe I can make it back to Albany for a day or two, but I’ll have to check my schedule.” She ended the call abruptly and put away the phone.
Jamie and Brooke waited. Anna ignored them.
Finally, Brooke couldn’t stand it any longer. “Mr. Move-In Condition resurfaces?”
“His business trip was cut short,” Anna said. “He’s coming back to the States next week.” She shrugged. “Nothing juicy.”
“You know, it’s okay to express an emotion now and then,” Jamie said. “We won’t hold it against you. Unless, of course, you get nail polish on the couch.”
“What’s to get emotional about?” Anna sat down on the sofa and tucked her feet underneath her. “The man expects me to drop everything and pick him up at the airport and make everything at home all cozy for him. He thinks we’re going to just pick up where we left off, like nothing happened. First he wanted me to, quote, ‘distract’ myself from all the infertility insanity with my, quote, ‘hobby,’ which I did, and now he wants me to come trotting dutifully back home. Well. I don’t think so.”
“So what are you going to do?” Brooke asked.
“I’m going to keep baking and helping Trish and waiting for the Bug to be born safe and sound.”
“No, I mean about Jonas.”
Anna tapped her fingers on the cherry wood console table flanking the sofa. “Let him eat cake.” She started sorting through the day’s mail, which was strewn across the table, and plucked out a magazine. “Who is this for?”
“Me!” Brooke snatched up the periodical. “Oh goody, now I’ve got something to read in the bathtub tonight.”
“Is this for real?” Jamie peered over the couch. “I can’t believe it. Up is down and black is white. Brooke Asplind subscribes to Popular Mechanics?”
“So?” Brooke scanned the list of feature stories on the magazine’s cover. “It’s cheaper than paying full price at the bookstore. Don’t look so shocked. I am a product of one of the finest liberal arts schools in the country, you know. So well rounded.” She grabbed the gallon of ceiling paint and started back toward the hallway. “Time to get back to work. Oh, and Jame—got your tickets?”
“For what?”
Brooke pushed up her shirtsleeve, lifted the paint can, and flexed for all she was worth. “For the gun show, baby.”
When the doorbell rang just before dinner, Brooke assumed the furniture warehouse deliverymen had arrived with the new bedroom sets. She took a final swipe at the ceiling with her paint roller and yelled, “I’ll get it.”
She didn’t even glance in the hallway mirror before she opened the door, but she knew her face was covered in perspiration and paint, and the earbuds dangling around her neck were blasting Duran Duran. She was completely unprepared to come face-to-face with the hot guy from the hardware store.
Everett stood under the porch light, holding a red metal toolbox in one hand and what appeared to be a folded strap of blue leather in the other. He was bundled up in a green wool coat, and he looked rangy and handsome and acutely self-conscious. His thick, unruly hair had gotten slightly shaggy since she’d last seen him, and his broad shoulders were dusted with the flurry of snow starting to come down.
For a moment Brooke stood motionless with her hand clamped around the antique cut-crystal doorknob. Faint refrains of “Rio” drifted into the still night air.
“Hi.” He wiped his feet on the welcome mat and cleared his throat. “I came to help you run your wiring.”
“Oh.” Brooke’s breath emerged in wispy white puffs. A blast of Arctic wind chilled the sweat on her face and back. As her mp3 player segued from “Rio” to “Hungry Like the Wolf,” she turned off the music and addressed him with a detached cordiality that would do Anna proud. “I must say, this is very unexpected.”
“I know.” He flinched at her tone but held his ground. “I’m sorry about what happened last time you were in the store.”
“Don’t give it a second thought.” She kept the smile fixed on her lips, but her voice was now chillier than the falling snow. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” He reached out and braced one hand against the doorjamb. “I wanted to call you. I should have.”
“Hmm.” Brooke glanced away, determined to harden her heart and ignore the hopeful, pleading look in his eyes. “Well, I appreciate your making the trip over here to clear that up.” She brushed her palms against the hem of her paint-spattered Thurwell T-shirt. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Wait. I know I’m late getting into the game here, and you have every right to be angry.”
“I’m not angry, exactly.�
� She sighed and let the door swing open another few inches. “Everett, what are you doing here? Why now?”
“I’m ready to make up for lost time. I want to help you with your wiring project.”
She nodded toward his shiny metal toolbox. “Is that new?”
“This?” He ducked his head. “No, I’ve had it for years.”
She noticed a price tag still stuck to the bottom corner of the metal container but didn’t comment.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He handed her the folded strip of leather. “This is for you.”
She accepted his offering with some misgivings, then unfolded it to discover a streamlined baby blue tool belt scaled to fit a woman’s waist. “I never thought I’d use this word in reference to hardware accessories, but this is fabulous! I had no idea they made these.”
“I special-ordered it.” Perhaps it was a trick of the light on the porch, but it almost looked like Everett was blushing beneath his five o’clock shadow. “Most of the ones we stock in the store looked way too big for you.”
“And the color!” She couldn’t help gushing a little. “It’s so girly. I love it!”
“I picked blue because it matches your eyes.” No doubt about it—he was definitely blushing.
Brooke felt the last of her reserve melt away. “That is so nice.”
“Close the door!” Jamie hollered from somewhere down the hall. “It’s freezing out there!”
“Won’t you come in?” Brooke smoothed her hair and stepped back from the threshold. “I apologize, I’m not dressed for company.”
“You look great. You also look like you’re right in the middle of something, so I won’t hold you up. Just set me up with the wiring cable and I’ll take it from there.”
“Well, actually, I’ve already finished replacing all the wiring. But the insurance inspector is coming back on Friday, and there are a bunch of last-minute projects I’m trying to jam in. If you could replace the old outlet in the powder room with a GFCI outlet, I’d be eternally grateful.”
He paused. “You’re finished with all the knob-and-tube wiring replacement already? That was quick.”
“Yep. You get off easy with a GFCI.”
“Great.” He threw back his shoulders. “No problem.”
“Oh, but I should warn you: Be careful not to tear the gasket. Some of the upstairs outlets gave me a devil of a time.”
“Roger that. Watch out for the gaskets.”
“Oh, and Everett, I know this is appallingly rude, but may I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
She bit her bottom lip. “How old are you?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Twenty-eight.”
“Well?” She waited. “Aren’t you going to ask me the same question?”
He laughed. “Just give me your word that you’re over twenty-one and I won’t check your ID.”
“Handsome and tactful. A devastating combination.” She looked at him. He looked at her. “Isn’t there anything you want to know about me?”
“I want to know everything about you. But first”—he took off his coat and hoisted up his toolbox—“I’ve got to make the acquaintance of your electrical system.”
Do you smell that?” Anna put down her book on Civil War cooking and wrinkled her nose at Brooke. “Is something burning?”
Brooke sniffed, but all she could smell was paint fumes. “I told Jamie thousands of times not to smoke in the house. If she gets ash on my clean carpets—”
A high-pitched electronic wail drowned her out. The fire alarm. Brooke raced out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the entryway, where she found Everett balanced on a rickety wooden chair and jabbing at the ceiling-mounted smoke detector.
“Sorry,” he said after he turned off the alarm. “That was me.”
“Oh! I had no idea you were already in the wall.” Brooke glanced at the overhead light fixture in confusion. “Didn’t you turn off the circuit breaker?”
He stepped down from the chair. “Yeah, I probably shoulda done that.”
“It’s a miracle you weren’t electrocuted.”
“Everything was going fine—I made it past the gasket with no problem—but then the duct tape I was using to mark the lead wire caught fire.”
She blinked up at him. “Why were you using duct tape to mark the wire? Duct tape is flammable.”
“Yeah, so I’ve learned.” He hung his head and rocked back on his heels. “Forget it. I knew this was never going to work.”
“What’s never going to work?”
“This. Me. My total incompetence.” He kicked the gleaming red toolbox with the back of his heel. “As I’m sure you’ve already figured out, I know nothing about wiring or renovation or any of that stuff. I barely know a Phillips screwdriver from a flathead.”
Brooke furrowed her brow. “But you work at a hardware store.”
“Which makes everything worse. I know what everything is for, in theory, but knowing and doing are two different things.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s my dad’s store, and he and my mom begged me to help out for a few months while they dealt with his medical issues. I said fine because it wasn’t like I was making any money doing freelance photography, but then you walked in asking for Romex wire and drill bits.” His voice broke low. “And then you kept coming back. For the first time, I actually enjoyed working at my dad’s shop.”
She brushed her hand against his. “I’m so sorry to hear about your father. Is he feeling better, I hope?”
“He’ll be okay, we think. He’s had a rough autumn; in and out of the hospital.” His eyes bore testament to the strain of the last few weeks; he looked older somehow. “But his doctors are optimistic.”
“Wait.” She was still trying to process his earlier confession. “So you don’t know the first thing about replacing a GFCI outlet?”
“I don’t even know what GFCI stands for. If it can’t be fixed with duct tape, I’m out. That’s why I haven’t called you. I was trying to buy time so I could learn about wiring.” He extracted a do-it-yourself circuitry manual from his toolbox. Yellow Post-its protruded from the pages he’d bookmarked. “And this damn thing is useless.”
Brooke was flabbergasted. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I wanted to impress you.” He flushed and kicked the toolbox again. “Stupid, I know. But you can do everything. I didn’t want to be the guy who does nothing.”
“Don’t say that,” she admonished. “Just because you’re not mechanically inclined doesn’t mean you do nothing.”
“Yeah, that’s the other thing I have to tell you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I got a job offer. For photography.”
“That’s wonderful! That’s your dream job, isn’t it?”
“It’s only a six-month contract for now, with a small weekly news magazine.”
She studied his expression. “I have the feeling there’s a ‘but’ here.”
He nodded. “The thing is, I have to move down to Manhattan. And if it goes well, I’ll be relocating for good.”
“Oh.”
“So it’s not really practical for us to start dating.”
She knew this was the time to say something along the lines of Let’s just be good friends, but all that came out was, “I see.”
Then he took her off guard with a big, warm grin. “But then I realized neither one of us is practical at all. Look at us: me finally getting the guts to try to make it as a photographer, you building a bed-and-breakfast out of a falling-down firetrap of a dorm.”
“Excuse me?” She laughed. “The only fire we’ve ever had here is the one you just started. Watch yourself, or I’ll have you cited for violating code.”
“We both go after what we want, even if it means hard work and delayed gratification. So I’m thinking, we go out this weekend. See how it goes.” He paused. “And, if it comes down to it, I can always come up on the weekends to see you. As Kierkegaard said, ‘Adversity draws
us together and produces beauty and harmony.’”
“Nice. That philosophy degree comes in handy.”
“Oh yeah. The ladies love old Søren K. And who knows?” He winked. “Maybe it won’t be an issue. Maybe we’ll find out we’re totally incompatible.”
“Maybe. But it’s not every day I meet a guy who’ll give me the contractor rate.”
“It’s not every day I meet a beautiful girl who can school me in how to install a GCFI outlet,” he countered.
“GFCI,” Brooke corrected without thinking. “For ‘ground fault circuit interrupter.’”
“See? I’m learning already.”
As soon as Brooke said good night to Everett and returned to the kitchen, Anna and Jamie pounced. “What happened?” Anna demanded. “Tell us everything! Did you make him grovel?”
“Did you kiss him?” Jamie asked. “With tongue or without?”
“We replaced an outlet together,” Brooke said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
Anna pretended to swoon. “It’s a renovation romance.”
“Not yet,” Brooke said. “But we’re having an official pizza-and-painting date tomorrow night.”
“A date!” Jamie clapped her hands together. “Did you ask him or did he ask you?”
Brooke beamed. “He asked me.”
“What’s up with this guy? I thought he blew you off, callously and without remorse,” Anna said. “Now he’s turning up at your doorstep asking you out?”
“He had his reasons.” Brooke picked up her paint roller. “Some better than others, admittedly. But he’s not callous. Quite the opposite.”
Then Jamie noticed Brooke’s newest accessory. “Hey, check you out; I didn’t know they made tool belts in pastels. I like it. Very contractor chic.”
“Everett special-ordered it for me.” Brooke couldn’t resist adding, “He says it matches my eyes.”
She waited for Jamie to come back with a snarky retort, but Jamie surprised her by softening. “Aw. What a nice guy.”
“Here’s hoping you’ll have many happy years reading Popular Mechanics together,” Anna said. “Oh, and Jame, that reminds me—something came in the mail for you, too.” She pressed a slim, cream-colored envelope into Jamie’s hand. “Looks like it’s from Arden’s attorney.”
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