Forgiving Jackson

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Lanie gestured to the corner where a commercial washer and dryer stood. “You might as well know before we go upstairs that there are no washer and dryer connections in the apartment, but you can use these to do your laundry.”

  Laundry? Of course. He hadn’t thought of laundry — how stupid was that? Lots of his clothes went to the dry cleaners, but not everything. And Emma sometimes messed up three outfits a day. Little socks, pajamas, underwear, towels, sheets — it all went in the hamper and appeared again clean and folded. Had he thought it was magic? Good God. What else had he not thought of?

  “I’m sorry,” Lanie said sheepishly. “I know it’s not convenient but the machines are high capacity and the cost of using them is included in the rent.”

  She had mistaken his silence for disapproval. A worried frown appeared between her eyes. Lanie wanted to rent this apartment to him — badly.

  “The laundry situation is fine,” he said.

  “Really?” She wrinkled her brow a little more.

  “Let’s go upstairs.” He was not in the business of giving reassurance — especially since he didn’t know if he even wanted the place.

  She pointed to the back door. “There’s a covered parking pad out back. I park there, but there’s another space for you.”

  Across the hall, next to the kitchen, was a large room alive with activity. A woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties sat at a computer and three teenagers were packing boxes to be shipped. None of them were dressed in bizarre candy print clothes. Lanie stuck her head in the room.

  “Hey, everybody. How’s it going, Allison?”

  “Great.” The woman at the computer looked up. “Today’s orders are gone and we’re getting a head start on tomorrow’s.”

  “Got everything you need?” Lanie asked.

  “I think so.” She studied the monitor and scrolled down. “Uh oh. We just got an order for twenty pounds of peanut brittle. If you can get it done, it can go out tomorrow.”

  “No problem,” Lanie said cheerfully.

  Peanuts. Luke shuddered. “You’re going to make twenty pounds of peanut brittle before tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Of course. We do a big Internet business and I don’t make the candy until it’s ordered. It has to be fresh. I promise next day shipping on orders that come in before noon, so we’re not obligated to get that order out tomorrow. But a happy customer is a repeat customer.”

  “Not in my line of work,” Luke said. “My customers are rarely happy and they almost always repeat.”

  Lanie threw back her head and her laughter rang out like schoolyard magic. It had been a long time since he’d made anyone laugh, at least not a natural laugh. “Maybe you should give them candy. Allison can talk to you about a corporate discount.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Lanie opened the stairwell door across the hall from the shipping room. “Are you ready to go up?” She mounted the stairs and looked over her shoulder. “The stairwell is fireproof. My grandmother had just started renovating when she got sick. I finished it. Everything is up to code.”

  Lanie was just enough ahead of him that her ass stayed level with his eyes. He might have found it appealing if candy hadn’t been dancing across it. Okay, so itwasappealing. Not for him, but very appealing. He was grateful when they landed in the hallway of the second story and were at the same level again. He hadn’t noticed before that Lanie was so tall. If she’d been standing very close to him, her head might have brushed his chin and he was 6’2".

  Carrie had always claimed he was a pushover for long legs — claimed she could tell by watching him when they were at the beach. She would laugh and say he could look at those Amazons all he wanted — that she knew he loved her in spite of her short legs. She was right about one thing. He had loved her, though not in spite of or because of anything. He still did.

  Lanie opened the door at the end of the hall that ran between the two apartments. “This is the balcony.” She gestured to some covered patio furniture and empty flower boxes. “I keep it nice during good weather, though it’s not at its best right now.”

  Luke stepped out on the lacy wrought iron balcony and was astounded at what hedidn’tsee. He’d expected what one usually found in the space between backdoors of businesses — alleys, dumpsters, weedy gravely parking places. Instead, the alleys were bordered by brick walls, adorned with lantern-shaped lights. In between was a little park with benches, picnic tables, and a wooden castle play set comprised of swings, slides, and climbing bars. The backdoors of the businesses across the alley from Heavenly Confections, as well as those down the street, all had neat pleasing appearances with balconies — all wrought iron like Lanie’s, but different in style and color. If he bent over the rail, he could see the parking pad Lanie had mentioned.

  “This is a surprise,” Luke said.

  Lanie seemed pleased that he had noticed. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It was part of the Downtown Revitalization Committee’s plans. They also encouraged storeowners to restore the apartments above their businesses and most everyone in town did. Most hadn’t been used since the 1950s. I think I have the last vacant one.”

  “Do all the businesses on this block have apartments?”

  “Not all.” She pointed next door to Kincaid Insurance. “Mr. Kincaid had already turned his upstairs space into storage and an employee lounge, but he redid the back of the building in keeping with the rest of us.” She pointed across the alley. “That’s Miss Annelle’s interior design shop. She did it in an art deco style and liked it so much that she moved from her house up there. You know my friend Lucy Mead? That’s her niece. She lives in Miss Annelle’s house now.”

  Lanie moved to lean on the rail. Luke wanted to tell her not to lean there but caught himself.

  “Byron Masters lives above Creekview books and some newlyweds just moved in above Jack and Jill Children’s Shop. I don’t know them yet.” She pointed down the block. “The Lemon Tree — that’s a gift shop — had some plumbing problems. They aren’t finished yet. Anyway. Our block was the only one that had room for a pocket park and we’re very proud of it. The Garden Club keeps up the flowers and Rotary had the castle custom made. I’m sure your little girl would love it.”

  “Is the park safe?” Luke asked.

  “Safe?” Lanie looked at him like he’d grown another head. “As in, are there shootouts and drug deals?”

  “It’s a valid question.”

  “Not to my knowledge, though Justin Eubanks went down the slide backwards last week and didn’t come to a good end. It took a piece of fudge and a raspberry lemon lollipop to make him happy again.”

  If she saw what came across his desk, she wouldn’t be so cavalier — though he had to admit Merritt was pretty mild compared to Mobile.

  A cold gust of wind whipped Lanie’s apron around her knees and she shivered and stepped back inside.

  Luke inspected the lock on the balcony door. He didn’t like what he saw. “Will you install a deadbolt on this door? About here?” He pointed to a place, even with his head. “Out of child reach?”

  Lanie nodded. “If you decide to take the place, I’ll get someone over to do that.”

  The hallway was clean but nothing special, with a concrete floor. “Would it be possible for my little girl to ride her tricycle in this hall if I keep her quiet?” Luke asked.

  “Oh, yes!” Lanie laughed a delighted little laugh. “Toddlers aren’t supposed to be quiet. She won’t disturb me.”

  “This particular toddler can be pretty rambunctious.”

  “I’m the oldest of five. I can assure you one little girl will not faze me.”

  It occurred to Luke that they were both acting like this was a done deal and it was too soon for that. Regardless of the other advantages, he couldn’t live in a place that looked like the Sugar Plum Fairy had waved her magic wand over it.

  “Maybe we’d better see inside,” he said.

  As he’d expected, the apartment was smal
l — kitchen, living room, one bath, two modest-sized bedrooms and another not much bigger than a walk-in closet. The Sugar Plum Fairy had been kept at bay, and the renovations were more upscale than he’d expected. No one could argue that the glossy wood floors, granite counter tops, high-end bathroom fixtures, and stainless steel appliances weren’t nice. It was just unusual for an apartment this size.

  Once back in the living room, Lanie removed the ornate brass cover from the small coal burning fireplace. “The mantle and fireplace are original. I had gas coals installed.” She flipped a switch and blue and golden flames came to life.

  He chased away any fantasy he might have been tempted to call up of long bare legs stretched out in front of that fireplace.

  “Did you do the decorating?” he asked to distract himself.

  “Yes,” she said proudly. “I hope you don’t think the color scheme is boring. I learned in a design class that if you don’t know who will be living in a space, it’s best to use a neutral palette.”

  “So you’re a trained interior designer?”

  “No.” She looked sheepish. “I thought at one time it might be a possibility, but it turned out not to be for me. But if you need someone, Lucy is a great designer.” She met his eyes again and bit her lip. “So what do you think? Are you interested?” Her tone begged him to take her to the prom.

  “How much is the rent?” he asked.

  She recoiled, actually recoiled, before naming a figure. He had to work to keep his mouth from dropping open. It was an absurd amount for an apartment this size with one bathroom, no dining room, and no laundry room. It might not be unfair for the upscale trappings, but it did explain why the apartment was vacant. The rent was more than anyone in his right mind would pay. But he wasn’t in his right mind — hadn’t been for a long time.

  There was no way the king-sized bed from his Mobile house would fit in the master bedroom — at least not and leave room for much else. But he could buy something new. Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe he should get rid of all that stuff in storage. There were some things of Carrie’s that should be set aside for Emma, but the rest could go. He felt a pang of regret at the thought of never again sleeping in the bed where he and Carrie had laughed and loved and made Emma, but what comfort could it bring anyway? There was no comfort; there was only alone.

  Lanie reached down and rubbed the place on her thigh that she had inspected earlier. A flash of pain crossed her face — maybe from her bruise, or maybe from the certain knowledge that he was going to tell her he wasn’t interested — which he should do. But he needed a place to live and he had more money than energy.

  However, there was a concern she would have to satisfy. “How long has it been since the locks were changed on this building?”

  Lanie’s green eyes went blank. “I don’t know. Maybe never.”

  “So you don’t know who might have keys?”

  “I would assume no one, except Kathryn, Allison, and me.”

  “So you know for sure that your grandmother never gave a set to an employee? You never gave keys to anyone while you were renovating?”

  “Well.” She wrinkled her brow. “I got them back and I have a security system.”

  “Which means nothing if someone has a key and a code. Before I can sign a lease, you’d have to agree to install commercial locks with non-reproducible keys on all the doors. And I’ll go ahead and tell you that’s a deal breaker.” It would be expensive but for what she was charging she ought to be able to afford it. She certainly hadn’t minded spending a fortune on custom closet systems and a whirlpool tub.

  She looked at him without blinking. It was Luke’s business to read people and he was rarely wrong. Unless this was one of those rare times, she was trying to decide if the locks really needed to be changed or if he was trying to make her do something because he said so. And she was trying to decide if he was worth the effort for the rent.

  He needed out of that farmhouse.

  “Look,” he said. “I want this apartment but I won’t rent it unless you do this. I’ve made enemies in the courtroom as a DA and more since I’ve been on the bench. I have to make sure my child is safe.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “All right. Yes. I’ll call someone tomorrow.”

  “Good. Let’s go down to your office. We’ll work out the other details and I’ll write you a check.” A few phone calls, a check, and he had a place to live where he could start fresh. Maybe.

  “I’ll make us an espresso,” Lanie offered as she made her way toward the stairwell.

  “Lanie, did Lucy decorate your shop?” He would need someone to put together some rugs and furniture for him and maybe make Emma’s room look more little girl-like but if Lucy Mead had decorated that shop, it wasn’t going to be her.

  Lanie looked over her shoulder and beamed at him. “No. I did it all by myself — well, the design. I didn’t actually do the painting. I wanted it to be magic. When people walk in my shop, I want them to think of Easter baskets, Christmas candy, Candy Land, Halloween, and Valentine’s Day. Did you notice the chocolate stars on the ceiling?” She waved her hands excitedly. “My great-grandmother started the business making chocolate stars in her kitchen and they’re our trademark. That’s why I put them on the ceiling — so they can smile down on everyone. I thought of outlining them in silver glitter so they would show up better, but I decided it would be best if they look like they really do. Don’t you think that was better?”

  “Oh, yes.” And he did agree. Glitter never improved anything.

  To purchase this ebook and learn more about the author, click here.

  For more books by Alicia Hunter Pace, check out:

  Scrimmage Gone South

  Praise for Scrimmage Gone South:

  “For a sweet and fun romance that will make you laugh and enjoy from beginning to end, Scrimmage Gone South by Alicia Hunter Pace is a great choice.”—Harlequin Junkie

  Simple Gone South

  Praise for Simple Gone South

  “…a heartwarming, sweet and entertaining read that will keep you laughing and sometimes even have you shed a tear or two.”—Harlequin Junkie

  Secrets Gone South

  Praise for Secrets Gone South

  “What a story! Pace has nailed writing emotions into her stories … She definitely had me jumping for joy and bawling like a baby more than once … This was a thoroughly enjoyable read that I couldn’t put down.”—Pure Jonel

  In the mood for more Crimson Romance?

  Check out High Octane: Fueled by Rachel Cross at CrimsonRomance.com.