by Jo McNally
“It’s coming along.” Even in the kitchen, the floors were still plywood. He looked through the large windows to the outside, purposely avoiding the incompleteness indoors. He once thought he’d raise his family here, but his ex-wife had been less than enthusiastic. Amy said it was too long a commute to White Plains, so they’d agreed it would be a vacation home. But that had never happened, either. Now it was just a place to stay busy when he had spare time.
“I like the kitchen,” Michael said.
“It’s not done.”
“It’s a lot more done than it was in December.”
“I suppose.”
This conversation was going nowhere fast.
“Why are you here, Michael?” Maybe there was trouble in paradise, and his son was ready to accept Asher’s California offer. The rush of adrenaline he felt at that thought was quickly followed by something resembling regret. Before he could examine that any further, Michael turned and leaned back against the large island, crossing his arms and looking Asher straight in the eye.
“We need to talk, Dad.” Asher didn’t know how to read Michael’s body language anymore. Was this going to be a good kind of talk or another lecture on how to behave?
“Talk about what?”
Both men had been careful to keep their voices devoid of emotion, but now Michael’s arms swung wide as he exploded in anger. “Seriously, Dad? How about all the things we haven’t talked about in months? Things like my fiancée and the baby we’re going to have. My wedding. School. The money pit I rented and need your help with.”
Michael’s brown eyes shone with what appeared to be unshed tears, and that hit Asher right in the center of his chest. He had to grind his teeth to keep from reaching out to his only remaining child. He wanted to ask Michael what had happened. Why was he here now, after so much time? Was everything okay? What could Asher do to help? But those weren’t the words that ground through his clenched teeth. Instead, he said the same words he’d said to Michael before. And to Dan. And to Nora.
“There isn’t going to be a wedding.”
Michael dropped his head until his heavy beard brushed his chest, and he stared at the floor for a long moment before speaking. His voice was low but firm.
“You can’t stop this with words, Dad. I get that you’re unhappy. But you can’t just wish it away.” Michael glanced at the bottle of bourbon on the kitchen counter and the empty glass next to it. “You can’t drink it away, either. You can’t drink me away. I’m standing right here in front of you asking you for some support. Please.” Michael looked up and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I miss you. I’m asking you to be my dad again.”
Asher struggled to come up with a response. He was still determined to protect his son from this terrible mistake he was making with his life. He had to stop this marriage and get Michael as far away from this girl as possible. It was for his own good.
“I’ve never stopped being your dad, Michael.”
“Then be happy for me, damn it!” Usually the most composed person in the room, Michael started pacing the kitchen in agitation. “I know our timing is a little off, but I’m in love with a terrific girl, and we’re having a baby together. We’re starting a life right here in Gallant Lake. I gave her a ring—Grandma Walker’s ring—and we’re planning a wedding. I want you to be a part of all that, Dad.”
“You know I can’t be.”
“Why the hell not?” Michael walked up and planted his feet right in front of Asher, as if daring him to deny his presence. Asher held his ground, but his heart stuttered and he blinked away from his son’s face, trying to refocus. He was doing the right thing here. He had to be.
“You’re twenty years old. You don’t understand what you’re doing, starting a family before either of you have your degrees. Before either of you have a job.”
“We’re both going to transfer.”
“What?”
“Albany has a law program for me, and it’s only an hour away in good weather. And Becky’s looking at a state university program where a lot of the work can be done online. When the baby’s a little older, we’ll find him a good day care program so Becky can catch up on her studies.”
“And how are you planning on paying for all this? Because I’m not...” Michael’s words finally registered. “Wait, did you say him?”
Michael smiled slowly. “You’re going to have a grandson, Dad. As far as money goes, we’ll be up to our eyeballs in student-loan debt, just like every other college graduate out there. Hopefully we’ll grab some scholarships, and Mom’s helping with the rent on the house. I’ve got my job with Judge Wilkes and Becky’s working part-time.”
You’re going to have a grandson...
Of all Michael’s words, those were the only ones he’d heard. A baby boy. A blue-wrapped bundle handed over in a hospital nursery, carrying hopes and dreams for a future that might never happen. Been there. Done that. He stepped back and shook his head sharply.
“No.”
“No?”
“I mean...no, I won’t pay for college if you stay here. My offer still stands for Stanford, Michael. But not here in New York.”
Michael let out a harsh breath, then turned away. “When I said I wanted your support, I wasn’t talking about your damned money. I want you to know your future daughter-in-law. I want you to know your grandson. I want us to be a family.”
Family.
There was no way for his son to understand how much pain that one word caused him. The panic it induced. The sorrow that welled up and threatened to drown him.
He scrubbed both hands down his face, trying to compose himself and swallow the tide of emotion barreling his way. He knew his words would hurt Michael. But he couldn’t stand by and watch his son suffer the pain that a child could bring.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I really am. But I can’t do it. I won’t. This is a mistake.”
Michael stared at him long and hard before heading to the door with swift, angry strides. His parting words hung in the air long after his Jeep had roared down the driveway.
“You’re right, Dad. This is a mistake. And you’re the one making it.”
CHAPTER NINE
NORA PULLED ANOTHER stack of boxes from the back of her laundry room. From the clanking sound, she’d guess it contained more coffee mugs. Cathy must have gotten one heck of a discount on the brightly colored porcelain mugs she’d bought for the café, because there were cases full of them everywhere. Not only were there cases of extra mugs in the storage room downstairs, there was also a wall full of boxes up here in the apartment.
It was after ten o’clock, and Nora was exhausted. But she’d have the rare luxury of being able to sleep in tomorrow, so she was determined to get this last room cleaned and painted. The oak floor had already been sanded down to bare wood, and she was going to stain it after she finished painting the walls. She carried the boxes out into the hallway.
She hated clutter and disorganization. The café downstairs was finally gleaming and completely organized in every nook and cranny. The apartment was turning into a lovely home. And once she took care of this room, she’d be able to relax.
She’d hired the most unlikely part-time employee to open the shop three days a week: Cathy Meadows. Caffeine Cathy had shown up yesterday with the ad in hand, claiming she was bored and restless without having the shop to come to. And Cathy loved mornings. Nora did not. So Nora hired her, but only after having a lengthy discussion about hygiene and abiding by the rules. Just to be sure, Nora had hung numerous little signs where customers couldn’t see them, reminding Cathy to wash her hands and use plastic gloves when handling food.
With Becky helping on the weekends, Nora’s time was going to be a lot more manageable. Once she finally caught up on her sleep, which right now felt like it might take weeks, she cou
ld actually have this new life of hers right where she wanted it—under control.
After she finished up in this room, everything on her most recent list would be checked off. Which meant, of course, she’d have to start a new list.
The little house the kids had rented on the edge of town was in worse shape than this apartment. On the plus side, it did have a charming front porch and a picket-fenced backyard, although the fence was leaning in several spots and needed painting. Their landlord had given them permission to make improvements, so Nora would work on that to-do list, too.
She wiped down the built-in shelves, then started sanding the surfaces smooth enough for painting. The shelves were deep and ran around the corner in the back of the room, creating areas that were hard for her arms to reach. She pulled a wooden crate over and stood on it so she could clean the top shelves. Creating mental lists always relaxed her, and she started humming to herself as she thought of things to do. Becky and Michael would need nursery furniture, clothes, toys, diapers, outlet covers. She’d look for a bassinet for her apartment, too, so the baby would have a place to sleep when they visited.
Nora smiled. She was going to have a grandson. Becky had given her that news yesterday. A little boy was on his way. The timing wasn’t ideal, but there was nothing they could do about that now. Ready or not, a new family was being created. And Nora would make sure they were ready. She reached under the shelf in the corner with the sanding block.
And a spider dropped down onto her hand.
Nora froze. She was afraid of all spiders, but this was the scariest one she’d ever seen. It had a small black head and a bulbous body that reminded her of the evil spider from The Lord of the Rings. Furry, almost two inches long and with sharply jointed legs expanding its overall size, this was an eight-legged horror show.
And right now it was sitting on the back of her hand.
She let out a piercing scream as she jumped off the crate, shaking the spider off. Scrambling backward, she bumped into the stack of boxes filled with mugs, sending the top two crashing to the floor. The spider landed in the center of the laundry room, apparently unharmed and unfazed. Nora shook her hands wildly—she could still feel that thing crawling on her skin.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” she wailed. The spider took a few slow steps in her direction, and Nora let out another scream. Her heart was beating so wildly she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.
She couldn’t turn her back on the spider. If it disappeared in here, she’d have no choice but to move out of the apartment. And burn it to the ground. There was no way she’d ever be able to sleep knowing this thing was crawling around. And if she tried to kill it and failed, it would surely seek revenge on her. Everyone knew that was how spiders worked.
But how was she going to get rid of it? There was a loud noise behind her, probably another box of mugs landing on the floor. She flinched but never took her eyes off the spider, which seemed to be sharing her dilemma. It was just standing there in the middle of the floor, as if it didn’t know what to do next.
“Nora! What the hell?”
Asher’s deep, urgent voice was right behind her, but she didn’t respond. She was too busy trying to breathe. She hugged herself tightly, hoping to regain some semblance of control. She didn’t know where he’d come from or how he’d gotten into her apartment, but he assessed the situation quickly. His voice softened as he stepped closer.
“Okay. Alright. It’s just a spider—it’s not going to hurt you.” He put his hands gently on her shoulders. “Breathe. It’s okay.”
Just a spider? Just?
Nora took a ragged breath, “It was on me! It was on me! That son of a bitch was on me!” She ignored the smile that quickly flashed across his face at her furious outburst. Her hands were reflexively shaking at her sides, trying to dispose of invisible monsters.
He patted her shoulder and moved past her. He raised his foot, preparing to crush the spider under the sole of his well-worn leather shoe.
“No!” Nora yelled, unable to stop herself. “That’s bare wood—it’ll stain!” She didn’t even want to think of the fluids that would come out of that grotesque body.
His mouth dropped open and he looked at her in consternation.
“Oh, for chrissakes...” He opened the small window above the washing machine, letting in a blast of cold, damp air. He grabbed a wooden paint stirrer lying next to the paint can on the dryer, put one end under the fat spider, lifted it and quickly flipped the creature right out the window. From the looks of the trajectory, the spider had flown over the fire escape and down to the icy parking lot. Thankfully her car was parked across the lot and not next to the building.
Nora watched him pull the window closed, then buried her face in her hands and, much to her horror, burst into tears. She didn’t know if it was from fear, relief or embarrassment. Even more shocking, she felt Asher’s arms move around her and draw her against his very solid chest.
He made soothing sounds as his mouth brushed against her hair, and she was able to start breathing at last. He smelled like wood and whiskey, and she liked it. A lot. She let herself just soak in his essence for a minute before reality hit. A spider. A scream. And Asher, of all people, breaking in to her home to save her.
She started to giggle. Then she laughed out loud. He pulled his head back and looked down at her as if he feared she was having some kind of breakdown.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped, unable to stop laughing. “I can’t believe that just happened!” She sniffled at her remaining tears, wiping her face unglamorously with the back of her arm. She looked up and smiled at him. Her hands rested lightly on his chest. “I don’t like spiders.”
His voice was dry as he responded. “Really? You had me completely fooled...”
That made her laugh even harder, and now he started to chuckle, too. This close to each other, she could see that his eyes were an incredible blue with the tiniest flecks of silver. And he had a very nice smile.
She was admiring that smile, that mouth, those lips...when something happened. It was hard to define, really, but something shifted in her chest. Her gaze moved back up to his eyes. He knew she’d been staring at his mouth. He knew she’d been thinking about kissing him. Their smiles faded and the atmosphere went from light laughter to...something. She couldn’t look away from him, and Asher was apparently caught in the same net. His arms tightened, pulling her closer, and she didn’t resist.
It felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, like she was watching the scene play out from somewhere up above. She saw their bodies pressing against each other, both making unconscious adjustments to find full contact, from legs to hips to chest. She saw his head lower toward hers, and she knew he was going to kiss her. And she wanted him to. Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. This was going to be good.
And then he was gone, stepping away abruptly. Her eyes snapped open and she felt a sting of loss. It had been a long time since she’d been held by a man. And she’d never felt like that in any man’s arms—as if the entire world had fallen away at their feet. Asher was shaking his head, likely trying to regain his bearings. She knew just how he felt.
His eyes had been dark with heat just seconds earlier, but she watched them cool as he took another step away. Fear was in those eyes now, and she wasn’t sure where it had come from. She only knew she wanted to take that fear away.
Jumping back into his arms and kissing him senseless, no matter how tempting, wasn’t a good plan, though. She’d need something more logical, but her planning skills were temporarily short-circuited. Beyond his broad shoulders, she saw her back door standing wide-open. She’d locked it earlier, and she didn’t see any signs of damage to the door frame.
“Wait—why are you here?”
He seemed relieved at the change of subject. Not that they’d spoken a word whi
le he’d held her, but a whole lot of communication had gone on nevertheless. The corner of his mouth tipped up into a crooked smile.
“A gentleman is duty bound to respond to a woman’s bloodcurdling screams. It’s in the manual.”
She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks in humiliation. “I’m sorry. When that thing landed on my hand...” She shuddered and looked up at him. “I’m grateful, but how did you get inside?”
He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, then held up a key. “Cathy and I exchanged keys a while ago, in case we lost ours or needed something. I was hoping you hadn’t changed the locks.”
Nora’s mouth fell open. “You have a key to my apartment?”
“I’m guessing you have a key to mine, too.” He pushed the back door closed and looked at the row of keys hanging on the wall behind it. “Yup—here it is.” He picked up a wooden key chain shaped like a fish, with the words Gallant Lake printed in blue. “If it makes you feel better, you also have a key to Carl’s place right here, and I’m sure he has keys to ours. It’s nothing sinister, just being good small-town neighbors.”
Nora looked at this tall, handsome man standing in the narrow hallway inside her home. She thought about the night he’d come out in the cold to help when she fell on the ice. The stairs he’d built so she could use the giant trash receptacle safely. The way he’d rushed over when he heard her screaming. A good small-town neighbor. A neighbor she should definitely not want to be kissing.
“Right. Neighbors. I can’t imagine what you must have thought when you heard me.”
His face sobered. “I didn’t know what to think. I just grabbed the key and ran. But now that your hairy visitor is gone, I’ll head back...”
“Would you like a cup of coffee? Or something stronger? I think I have some Kentucky bourbon in the cabinet. You drink bourbon, right?”
She didn’t know why she’d said any of that, but the words were out there now. He stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable, but instead of retracting the invitation, she defended it. Out loud, in an avalanche of words. “I mean, it’s the least I can do after you came running to my rescue. I don’t even think I’ve said the words thank you yet. Seriously, thank you so much. I have no idea what I would have done left here alone with that thing, short of burning the place down.”