by Jamie Beck
“Okay.” Emmy spun in a circle while Steffi measured and cut. When Steffi heard a muffled ringtone, Emmy stopped twirling. Her eyes went wide inside the goggles as she pulled the face mask down and removed her gloves.
“That’s my mom!” She answered the phone, wearing a giant grin. “Hi, Mommy!”
After a pause, she said, “Helping Miss Steffi stuff insulation.”
Steffi cut through the insulation, wishing she could see Val’s face or hear her reaction. Did that woman miss her daughter yet? Was she second-guessing her decision?
“I’m not bothering her. I’m helping build Memaw’s new room.” She twirled a bit of her hair in her fingers, swinging her hips restlessly, the way fidgety kids do. “Am too. I helped push down screens, and I used a nail gun on trim.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It is safe. I’m in goggles and a mask.”
Another pause. “He’s not home yet.”
More silence. “You should come visit and help. There’s still lots to do. It’s a mess!”
Steffi frowned to herself. It was hardly a mess. She kept her work space neat as a pin, and the project had progressed nicely. Not that she cared about Val’s opinion or approval.
“Okay, Mommy. I love you, too.” Emmy hit “Off” and pushed the phone back into her pants pocket. Without skipping a beat, she put the mask and gloves back on, and then picked up a section of freshly cut batt and started working.
Steffi kept her questions to herself, but Val’s motives gnawed at her. If she planned to be honest with Ryan, she ought to do so before Val changed her mind. Ryan deserved someone better than his wife, but if he wasn’t dating anyone when Val came calling, he might take her back for Emmy’s sake.
“Why are you breathing funny?” Emmy asked, hovering over Steffi’s shoulder, wearing a frown.
“Am I?” Steffi worked to regulate her breath. “Some of the fiberglass dust must be tickling my lungs,” she fibbed.
Emmy inhaled deeply, then blew it out and shrugged. “Not mine.”
“Good. You don’t want it in there.” Steffi handed her the final section of batt. Funny thing. It could keep you toasty warm, but it could also irritate and hurt you if you weren’t careful with it. “Go on, finish it up.”
Suddenly, she felt claustrophobic in the Quinn house. Her appointment at the Weber home couldn’t come soon enough.
Ryan pulled onto Echo Hill Lane, barely able to keep his eyes open. Some days he felt like a hero—helping the underprivileged community get justice or rescuing the wrongly accused from convictions. Other days, like today, he had a slate of clients—repeat offenders and all-around bad seeds—that he’d just as well see thrown in jail for as long as possible.
On those days, it took every ounce of integrity in his bones to provide the best defense possible. It wore him down and raised questions he didn’t want to ask himself. Questions like whether the guys who hurt Steffi had been career criminals who played the system.
He was parking in his mother’s driveway when, in his peripheral vision, he noticed Steffi’s van down the street in front of the Weber home. The photos he’d seen hadn’t quite satisfied the itch to explore that place.
Ryan left his briefcase on the front seat and locked the door before strolling down the lane and up the porch steps of the antique bungalow. He knocked on the door, then finger brushed his hair and smoothed his tie.
He heard the sound of heavy footsteps approach the door from inside the house.
“Oh, hi!” Steffi’s bright-eyed smile eased his self-consciousness.
“Saw your van and thought I’d take a peek . . . if that’s okay.” Once again, his mouth went dry around her. It never had in the past. This limbo—a friendship complicated by uncertain yearning—had him by the throat.
“Of course. The home inspector just left . . . no big surprises, so I’m moving ahead with the sale. Now I’m sketching out some plans.” She waved him inside. “In fact, I’m glad you’re here. Maybe my vision will convince you to buy it when I’m done.”
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” He chuckled, wishing he had the money to give Emmy a sweet little place to call home.
This place, however, smelled worse than a locker room after an August practice. He supposed that would be resolved once they removed the furniture, opened some windows, and tore out old carpets. “Give me the grand tour.”
“Yay.” She clapped her hands with no small amount of glee, like a grown-up version of Emmy. “Okay, so as we saw through the window, this is the main living area. It’s cluttered as hell right now, but it’s a decent size and anchored by that amazing hearth. Imagine it stripped of her chintz and tchotchkes, with gleaming refinished floors, a simple L-shaped sofa here, maybe a swivel bucket chair here. A nice ottoman there, and over here you could hang a decent flat-screen television.”
She flashed a quick smile and motioned for him to follow her. “Then I’d widen this archway between the living and dining room by eighteen inches or more to open the flow a little. In here, I’d replace the window on the back wall with French doors for a view of the backyard. When we clear some of the overgrowth, we might even get some view of the sound. Now, picture a simple round dining table with six chairs and an updated dining chandelier. Claire has great taste, so I know she’ll find something perfect to suit the home. Maybe I’d add some texture to one wall, like reclaimed wood or something, just to give it a hip look. Again, Claire is great with those details.”
“That’d be cool. Trendy, though.”
She shrugged, winking. “If we knew the buyer in advance, we could customize to his taste.”
“Keep movin’,” he urged, partly because he didn’t want to fall in love with the idea of this house—or of Steffi being the one to remodel it for him.
“Fine.” She gestured toward the door leading to the kitchen. “The kitchen is small and dark because it’s closed in. I’d open up this wall and either do an island or a peninsula here. It would create better flow for entertaining. I think a greenhouse window over the sink would be cute, and I’d swap a single glass door for that wooden one to the backyard. Those fixes will make the kitchen feel bigger and brighter even though the floor plan won’t be enlarged. I think pale-gray cabinets with white quartz counters, a farmhouse sink, maybe some funky drawer pulls or open shelves here for a bit of contemporary flair. Oil-rubbed bronze fixtures might be cool, too.”
“Sounds amazing.” He turned about, imagining Emmy seated at an island, waiting for pancakes. “What’s through that door?”
She held open a swinging door. “A laundry area. I’d put in a pocket door here and clean it up.”
“No dedicated office or den?” Not that it mattered. He wasn’t really looking. Not seriously, anyway. Daydreaming. Fantasizing at most.
“No, and it’s only got two bedrooms and one bath, all upstairs. That’s a major drawback.” She held her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Claire I said that.”
He pretended to lock his lips.
“If there aren’t any major structural or piping and wiring problems, and if I can salvage most of the existing flooring, I might have room in the budget to create a small powder room from a section of the laundry room.” She sighed. “If I had a buyer and we could agree on a price, I might also afford to build a small office off the living room. It’s always an option for someone to do down the road. Just pop a French door on the right side of the fireplace, and then just do a single-story ten-by-ten room. Small but adequate. It could even double as a guest room in a pinch.”
“Let’s see the bedrooms.” He’d gotten caught up in this fantasy now. If Val would agree to his last request, maybe he could stretch and swing it.
“The bedrooms.” Steffi cleared her throat, then led him up the narrow stairs. He followed close behind, enjoying the view of her cute ass and the intimacy of the close space. He could picture this being a nightly routine, even.
The bedroom doors flanked the landing. Each generously proportioned room had eaves that kept th
em cozy. The shared bathroom—which could be a drawback when Emmy hit her teens—was a decent size.
“I wish I could get rid of the tub and do a fabulous walk-in shower, but with only one bathroom, I can’t ditch the tub. I’m thinking of putting a deep soaker tub here with a waterfall showerhead over the center. I can squeeze a double vanity along this wall.”
“I’m sure it’ll be stunning.”
“I hope so. I love the stained glass window in here. On a sunny day, it probably casts a pretty pink color in the room. Emmy would love that!” She smiled.
His daughter would love it.
He and Steffi both turned to leave at the same time, bumping into each other as they tried to squeeze through the door. “Sorry.”
“My fault.”
Neither moved from the tight space.
Having just toured this house through her eyes, he could picture himself here, with Emmy, and as crazy as it seemed, with Steffi, just like they’d talked about all those years ago. After a long day in court, he could return home to find Steffi in this shower, washing off the grime from some other renovation project. Maybe he’d even climb into that big tub and let the water splash over them both.
He might’ve groaned.
“Ryan?” She laid her hand on his chest. “Are you okay?”
He covered her hand with his own and held it there. “Hard to say.”
“Do you feel it?” She swallowed hard. He could almost hear the effort.
“Feel what?” His heart thundering beneath his rib cage?
“Us, here in this house.” Her eyes gleamed as she spoke even faster. “All of our old dreams suddenly possible . . . sort of. I mean, if I hadn’t, well, you know.”
He didn’t say anything because they’d already dissected the past. He’d let go of his anger weeks ago, so he just nodded.
“Actually,” she continued, looking at her toes. He tipped her chin back up.
“Actually, what?”
She licked her lips. “Maybe I’m totally off base and, if that’s true, just tell me to shut up and I’ll stop. But ever since we went sailing, I’ve been thinking about us and how we’re both home again. I was wondering if . . . well, if there was any chance that maybe you’d be interested in going out sometime. Like for real. On a date.” Her cheeks grew redder by the second.
“Steffi . . .” He hesitated. In many ways, daydreaming about making things work with Steffi was a lot like fantasizing about being able to afford this house. He could get too attached to the idea and then suffer massive disappointment if it failed. “I won’t pretend it hasn’t crossed my mind. The world’s full of coincidences, but sometimes I wonder if fate brought us both back here now. I also won’t pretend that none of the old feelings have resurfaced. But it’s not just me taking a chance now. I’ve got Emmy to protect. And maybe I shouldn’t consider dating until my divorce is final.”
“Okay. Makes sense.” She removed her hand from his chest and backed away. “Pretend I never said a thing. Friends, then. Friends is good.”
She offered a fleeting smile before trotting down the stairs. He stood at the top like a coward. Like the guy who let her ghost him all those years ago without a fight—out of pride or fear or a combination of both.
She’d broken up with him because she’d wanted adventure. If he made his decisions based on safety, then he didn’t deserve to be with someone like her. A minute later, he found her in the living room.
“For the record,” she said without meeting his gaze, “I know you consider me a high-risk proposition, but that works both ways. I could get hurt this time around, especially if Val waltzes back in to reclaim her family.” She put distance between them, crossing to the far side of the living room. “Like you said, you’re not divorced. Any day now, she might realize what a mistake she’s made.”
“I don’t want Val back.”
“But you love Emmy, and she loves her mom. She wants you two back together.” Steffi stared at him from a spot next to the hearth of the home that could be theirs if they tried and succeeded. “If there was any chance to give her back her family, you might try. I know you. I know what you value.”
“Then you know I value honesty. Val cheated on me for a while before she had the balls to ask for the divorce. She didn’t have the courage to walk out until she had someone else waiting. I can’t respect her now, let alone take her back.” He shook his head.
“She could beg. Emmy could beg.” Steffi sighed. “It’s possible, that’s all I’m saying.”
As he approached her, she got fidgety. “So then, why ask me out at all?”
“Because it’s been torture to sit on these feelings. To wonder. At least now I know where I stand.” She flashed a wan smile, then attempted a joke. “So now that you’ve dashed my romantic hopes, can you at least reconsider buying this house?”
“I can’t make any promises about this house, although I’d love to say yes.” Then he tossed all logic aside and came so close they were almost nose to nose. “But if the offer for dinner stands, maybe we can give that a try.”
Chapter Fifteen
Steffi sat in the passenger seat of Ryan’s Jeep, resisting the urge to tug at her shirt or fix her hair. She’d paired black jeans with an off-the-shoulder pale-green shirt with bell sleeves. Claire had convinced her to borrow a gold necklace and earrings, too. Honestly, Ryan had seen her turning purple in the ice-cold ocean not long ago, so it probably didn’t matter what she wore tonight.
“Are you serious?” Ryan asked, a half grin spreading across his face.
He’d dressed well tonight, too. Dark denim jeans, a collared shirt, and an unstructured beige jacket. Once again, he’d worn cologne. She’d find him sexy in sweats and a T-shirt, but appreciated the effort.
“Dead serious. Wait here.” She opened the passenger door and walked into Campiti’s to pick up the pizza and Cherikee Red sodas she’d called in.
Another woman might try to avoid anything that would bring up the past when it wasn’t exactly a point in her favor. Steffi had considered and then rejected the avoidance route. Their past—the good and the bad—was inescapably the foundation upon which anything new must be built.
Foundational cracks couldn’t be ignored or whitewashed in any kind of renovation. They required reconstruction to ensure stability. Taking that cue, Steffi planned for their official reunion date to honor what they once were, discover how well they still understood each other, and acknowledge they were also two people who’d become strangers in many ways.
As soon as she stepped inside the pizza joint, the salty, greasy aroma of the restaurant stoked her hunger and erased her nerves. Two pizzas might’ve been overkill, but Ryan could eat an entire large pepperoni-and-mushroom pie by himself. Or he used to be able to, anyway.
When she returned to the car, she said, “Now let’s go to the high school.”
“The high school?” He turned on the ignition and checked the rearview mirror before pulling away from the curb. “Bold move, taking this trip down memory lane.”
She knew he’d catch on quickly. “We might as well embrace what was. It’s part of us and who we were but doesn’t define who we are now or what we could become.”
His crooked smile always stopped her heart. “Sounds like a plan.”
Wherever the night might lead, this moment filled her with giddy happiness. Few experiences in life matched romantic beginnings—that buzz that wound its way through the body and pooled in the stomach and just below. If she could figure out how to slow the clock, she would marinate in the beginning of everything so it would sink in and season all the days to come.
A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of their alma mater. The two-story redbrick building hadn’t changed much this past decade, at least not on the outside. It brought back memories of the white-and-blue-tile floors and rows of bright-yellow lockers where she’d met Ryan before lunch each day. The simple pleasures, like cheering him on at his games, and he at hers.
But they were grown-ups now with real problems and responsibilities. They lacked the freedom and novelty of adolescence to sustain and thrill them.
Her hands were full with the pizzas and sodas. “Can you grab the bag from the back seat?”
“Of course.” Ryan reached behind her to get the tote that had a blanket and some paper products.
Together they wandered to the stadium, which was situated not far from a winding inlet river that led to the town harbor. The picturesque setting suited them—their history, their love of sports, and the energy of youthful hope it evoked.
“Bleachers or sidelines?” she asked.
Ryan’s gaze strayed to the small group of boys kicking the ball around at one end of the field. The lights had flickered to life as the sun hit the horizon and the final hints of sunshine faded from the sky. “Bleachers.”
They climbed a few rows; the tinny clomp of their footsteps on metal pierced the brisk fall air. She created a table of sorts by setting the pizza one row above the one where they sat.
“It’s been a long while since I’ve come here.” Ryan’s eyes went back to the boys on the field. “How many hours did we spend that way?”
“Too many to count, and too long ago to want to consider.” She opened the pizza boxes and popped the tab on her soda. “I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m thirty.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “It’s not so bad. Besides, you look young.”
“Thanks.” She held her soda can as if making a toast. “To old times and new beginnings.”
He tapped his can against hers. “Do you ever attend any football or soccer games?”
“No. I don’t know any of the kids who play now. I’d look like some old, creepy woman coming here alone, wouldn’t I?”
“Not creepy. Maybe pathetic,” he said. “Kidding. I should check out the schedule and bring Emmy to a football game. She’d like the drums and tubas.”
Steffi pictured Emmy decked out in blue and white—the school colors—shaking a pom-pom or cowbell, demanding popcorn, and cheering for the Blue Devils. “That does sound like fun.”