by R. T. Wolfe
"Regardless of my genius or not-so-genius genes, Brian broke it off." There. She said it.
"Hmm." Molly ran her forefinger across her chin. "Such a waste of a great ass." Molly grinned at her as they both suppressed a laugh. Lucy looked like she was going to blow a gasket. "Speaking of tradition, your sister should be here soon. It's the last day of school before break, and by the looks of that other tin of cookies, it seems like you still need to get across the street and bribe Mr. Piper into using his home for the party babysitters."
* * *
Mikey's was a favorite spot for a good burger and kicking back. The seats were nicked and set too closely together. The air held scents of grilled meat and grease. There were plaques and photos of years of local softball tournaments mingled with yellowing newspaper articles about the pub that were laminated and pinned to dark-paneled walls. Large posters with the Giants' and the Jets' game schedules covered the wall closest to the flip-up counter that gave an entrance to behind the bar.
"I say to you for the second time today, Brie, spill. Why is Dr. Tyman meeting with you and leaving you messages?" Their waiter brought them a first round of beer and buffalo wings. The two were the kind of friends only sisters could be—unconditional. Liz supported her when she'd changed college majors after two years, putting her on a six-year graduation plan. She put up with her neurotic need to have everything replaced in their parents' house just as it was before the fire, right down to the single bathroom upstairs for all five bedrooms to share.
Brie plopped her chin in one hand on the table. "She wants me to team up with her to vertically align the district math curriculum with a focus on common vocabulary."
"Ugh. Sorry I asked. So, she wants you to team up to work at no extra pay on a project that will make her look good. What else is new?" Liz folded her hands neatly on the table.
"Not every administrator is out for number one, Liz-the-union-rep." She grinned. "Besides, I offered. Really, Liz, I don't mind. I have time after school until spring hits. Brian broke up with me this morning," she added, trying a subject change.
Liz stared into her eyes clearly analyzing. With a touch of humor, Liz asked, "This morning? Don't tell me you were in bed when he broke it off."
"Pretty much, but I guess that part isn't such a big deal since he called me 'ice.' Although the comment didn't have anything to do with the bed." She stopped and placed her other hand under her chin with the first one. "At least I don't think it did. Oh, hell." She took a sip of her beer and grabbed another wing.
"Bastard. He spent how many years of his life trying to get you to date him, and he doesn't even make it six months. Did he really say 'ice'? Bastard." Liz sat back in the hard wooden bench. "Are you still inviting him to the house for New Year's Eve? It would be a waste for us not to be able to at least look at that great ass."
They both laughed until their sides hurt.
"I sort of already did. You know, before. And if I'd known everyone thought his ass was so great, I may not have let him go."
"Yes, you would have."
Brie froze just before her next bite of buffalo wing touched her lips. Her eyes drew up to her sister's.
"I'm sorry," Liz said. "I didn't mean it. Well, I did mean it, but who cares? I just don't like seeing you alone so much. Brian's a great guy. In fact, you always date great guys. Oh, wait, except Doug. He really was a bastard. What were you thinking?" Liz curled up the corners of her mouth.
Shaking her head, Brie thought about Doug. "Yeah. I guess Molly didn't have much better luck at that. At least I didn't marry him." She let out a sigh, thinking of her childhood friend. "And divorce him."
"She bounced back pretty fast. Molly's never alone. There's always someone chasing after those long legs." Liz finished her first beer and picked up the nearly full one in front of Brie. "Why do we always get a cab? You never have more than one, maybe two beers. Light beers."
"I like to have options."
* * *
A dumpster sat in front of the house. Tire tracks and footprints flattened the snow around it and down the tree-lined drive. The crew Nathan had hired to finish scrubbing the rest of the house had just arrived to finish the job.
"Not that we mind, but why are you having us clean everything if you're just going to rip it all out?" asked the woman in charge.
"The kids should have a clean place to live while I rip it all out. Stay as long as you need. Find me when you're done. I'll likely be in the garage and will get you your check." He headed off to the foyer to help Duncan and Andy.
He expected another crew soon to work on installing a spray room in a corner of the enormous garage, but he couldn't put the boys off any longer. They were too excited about his promise to let them play in the snow before their grandparents arrived. While the boys wrestled with their winter gear, Goldie ran circles around the three of them. The slope at the end of the backyard was perfect for an eight- and a six-year-old boy to use for sledding. They each owned a shiny new red sled.
"Dad, why couldn't we get those wooden sleds with the metal thingies on the bottom?" Andy zipped his coat, tucked his hat on tighter and held out his hands with fingers spread for Nathan to put on his gloves.
"The plastic ones go faster." He wiggled his eyebrows as he pulled on Andy's new snow gloves, carefully tucking them into the sleeves of his coat. "All set."
It took them several small steps to turn and face the front door. They made their way around to the back.
"Look," he said to the boys. "Our footprints are still here."
The boys carefully put their feet in each leftover print until they realized there was no need with their snow pants and boots. They, then, barreled through the snow and around back with Goldie racing, falling, rolling and running again.
At the top of the hill, he started to remind them to keep the string from dragging under the bottom of the sled. Instead, he gave them both a running push down the little hill. They would figure out that sort of thing best by trial and error. Goldie ran next to them so fast his feet couldn't keep up with his body. He somehow ended up on his back. Nathan grinned as he watched the dog get stuck, even if for just a second, like a turtle on its back, kicking his legs in the air.
As the boys pulled the sleds back up the hill, he felt better about his choice to uproot them from the South, from the only place they remembered living. Not to start over, but to start fresh.
* * *
As Macey waited by the front door, Brie laced her worn running shoes and tied her hair back in a few quick twists. Her dog's tail thumped against the umbrella stand. Clicking on her leash, they started out the door.
There wasn't much traffic to dodge other than an occasional car or snowmobile. She and Macey ran in the street where most of the snow had been cleared. She thought about the neighbors who had lived here longer than her. Lucy Melbourne had lost her husband years before. Clifford Piper, who also lived in their short cul-de-sac. His granddaughter, Amanda, lived with him on and off over the years.
As she rounded the corner with Macey at her side, she looked at the lovely Colonial-style home the Delaneys lived in. They must be at least eighty by now. Still, they got out to pull weeds and sweep the walk when the weather was nice.
She did the major projects for them. She ran in the street over the bridge that crossed Black Creek. Macey didn't hesitate at the swimming huddle of ducks but did manage to give them a yearning gaze. "Good girl." She gave Macey a quick scratch on the top of her head.
Their feet crunched through the snowy street, and the breath that steamed just in front of her led the way. As they rounded the next corner, a familiar, large, yellow Lab came bounding toward them with its tongue hanging to the side.
Chapter 4
Macey stopped and dropped her head. Pulling her ears back, she exposed her teeth and let out a deep growl.
"Down girl," Brie commanded.
Macey quieted, although she didn't loosen her stance. Brie recognized the Labrador as it galloped down the w
eedy drive of the old farmhouse as belonging to the new family. The dog's front legs locked as it halted at the sight of Macey's teeth. Then, it rolled on its back, legs in the air. Brie couldn't help but smile.
The dog must have decided it was safe and flopped around like a fish before making it back to its feet. It circled Macey, sniffing her. When it passed her back side, Macey looked up at her, desperately seeking permission to take a bite out of him. Brie grinned, but when the dog started to climb on Macey's back, she took it by its collar.
"Whoa there, stud. That's where I draw the line." Simultaneously, she tugged on his collar and down on his back, easing him into a sitting position. Opening her hand, she placed her palm in front of the dog's face, far enough away in case he decided to take a bite of her. "Sit," she said in a commanding tone. Keeping her fingers outstretched, she scratched his head with her other hand.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man walking with a slight swagger toward them. His work boots were soaking wet and mostly covered by faded blue jeans. A layer of stubble men often thought of as sexy covered his face, not that she didn't. It was just annoying. A mass of jet-black hair curled just around his ears and down to the collar of his coat. As he neared, she realized she had to look up to keep eye contact. Not many men were much taller than her five feet, nine inches.
He had nearly run again—saving her this time from his obnoxious dog. But Nathan understood for the second time that this woman didn't need his help. She wore a pastel yellow fleece jacket and was taller than she seemed from her backyard. Her glossy brown hair was tied in a tail that threaded through the back of a Giants' ball cap. She wore loose, black running pants.
The woman was different today than when she rolled in the snow, laughing with her dog. Her chin was up, her shoulders stiff. Nonetheless, he felt a tug in his gut. "How did you get him to do that?" he asked as he tilted his head toward his still-sitting Lab.
"Easy. Is he fixed?" The woman turned her head slightly to the side, keeping her eyes on his.
"If you mean neutered, no. I keep meaning to, but I just don't know if I can do that to a fellow member of the male species. I'm Nathan. The boys making their way down the drive are Duncan and Andy, Duncan being the taller of the two. And the overly anxious dog is Goldie. Come meet our first neighbor, boys," he called out over his shoulder.
Now that she was closer, he saw her eyes were an intense, moss green. Her lips were full, her skin golden. She wasn't pretty in the standards of society, but she carried herself with an attractive self-awareness. The tug turned into a pang. He'd been celibate for so long, he'd forgotten what that felt like.
"Goldie?" Her eyebrows lifted to him before she squatted down and rubbed around the dog's ears.
He bent down next to her and placed his hand on his dog's head. He noted that she moved back as he moved down. "It's the name the pound gave him. I couldn't get the boys to change it. Andy got the notion I just may change his name, too."
"Dad, I did not." Andy stomped his foot and buried his head in his side.
"Duncan, Andy, this is... "
"Brie, sorry. I live—"
"I know where you live." He stood up slowly and hooked his thumbs in his front pockets.
He lifted one side of his mouth.
"Right," she answered. "This is Macey." Brie took a step back, placed her hands on the backs of her hips with her thumbs facing forward.
He looked down at the dog that hadn't moved through the introductions. "It's nice to meet both of you. If I scratch her head will she chase me around my house, lunging and trying to bite me?"
Brie grinned.
Not much to say, but a very nice smile. A warm and sexy smile. Down boy, he told himself. Gloves hid whether or not she wore a ring.
"No. You're safe. I, um, heard you say I'm the first neighbor you've met. There'll be a gathering for New Year's Eve at my home. Most of the neighbors stop by." She paused. "You could come."
"No sitter, but thanks." He looked over and noticed the boys moving snow to form what looked like a wall for a fort or maybe a foxhole.
"We'll have good babysitters at Mr. Piper's. He lives across the cul-de-sac from me. If you're comfortable, they're welcome there."
He narrowed his eyes as he noticed hers were focused behind him.
"You're about to get pelted. I'm going to finish my run. Nice to meet you. It starts at eight."
He watched as she ran. He held onto Goldie's collar to keep him from chasing after her. A snowball hit the side of his head, then one on his leg. He let out his own growl and started balling up snow before the boys ducked down safely below their makeshift wall.
* * *
He worked the house from top to bottom and front to back. Systematically ripping down window and door trim, Nathan kept what he liked, if it could be salvaged, and labeled each piece carefully as to which room and wall or window it belonged. He made notes as he measured each room, calculating how much material he'd need to purchase to replace rotted boards and add what he wanted.
The formal dining room would showcase cross beams along the ceiling, much like the master bedroom. He planned for tight-grained, rift-sawn oak for most of the first floor. On the pages of his notebook reserved for the dining room, he drew a quick sketch of an arched entrance along the eighteen-foot-wide opening. A shipment of hardwoods would arrive soon, and he could start on it all. He pondered using the attic space above the garage to store it.
He heard tires coming up the gravel drive and realized he'd gotten carried away with his piles of trim. He was ready for a disruption. When he heard the air release of the braking system, he figured it was the moving truck and headed out to help the driver unload.
Pulling out his notebook from his back pocket, he wrote as he walked, jotting down that each garage door needed replacing. The garage was one of the reasons he had picked the house. Double-deep, it could easily fit six cars, but that wasn't what he wanted it for. It was added on years ago and nicely done. The roof dipped from the line of the house just enough to give character and yet balance to the home as a whole. The end of the garage bumped out slightly and gave the back of the house added personality. It was large enough to hold all of his tools, his work space and his truck, along with his Saab that waited in storage with the furniture. A guy's gotta have his toys. Only the basics would be on this truck. Still, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
He helped the movers unload and carry the kitchen appliances to the mudroom for now. It was his tools he was anxious to retrieve. Other than his truck, the garage was empty, clean and ready for his planer, table saw, and all of the hand tools and boxes of drill and router bits he needed to make this ancient home live again.
As he and the movers placed each tool and work table precisely where he'd planned, a squad car pulled up behind the moving truck. He set down a box of routers and hand sanders, and let out a long whistle as a police officer walked through the entrance to the front of the garage.
"Aren't you looking important? You're gonna make the neighbors think I brought trouble." He gave his childhood friend a quick embrace of two, quick thumps on the back.
"Nathan, what are you thinking? This place is a dump." the cop said.
"Don't hold back, Davey, tell me what you really think."
"Son-of-a-bitch, Nathan, don't call me Davey. We're not in high school anymore. I have a rep."
Dave towered over the movers. Nathan remembered him to be right at six feet, four inches. Brief introductions were made with Dave's partner as they looked around at the tools.
"Where're the boys?" Dave asked as he walked around the spotless garage, hovering over boxes.
"My folks are taking them for a few hours during the day until school starts so I can get going on the place."
"I thought maybe they already carted them off on a trip. You were hardly in town growing up."
"We just got here, but I'm keeping an eye on that. I want them to get a feel for the place, start feeling like home, and beside
s, it's good for them to chip in and learn something."
"I expect they have a feel for this place." The radio at his hip beeped.
"Time to go. Good luck with the house. We'll have a beer soon," Dave said, walking to his squad car. "Welcome back. Tell the boys I said, 'hey,' and that I've got a present for them."
* * *
The movers unloaded the boys' bedroom furniture. Their rooms would be the first Nathan would finish. He walked over and ran his hand across the top of Duncan's dresser. He noted the dent in the side from when Duncan fell into it with his baseball gear. Duncan felt so badly at the time. He was much like his dad; he had to be in control and be the responsible one. Nathan had assured him it was only wood and could be repaired. Now, he couldn't bring himself to fix it. Memories, he figured.
He stood back, remembering each tool he'd used to make the distressed marks on their oak furniture. Chains, hammer and chisel. The stain pooled perfectly into the marks, giving the wood a mood of comfort and age.
By nightfall Nathan's hands were filled with nicks. He was sore and tired, and he wouldn't have traded it for anything. Duncan and Andy talked him into making a fort using extra blankets over the mattresses they slept on. With Goldie already belly up at their feet, he zipped the boys in their sleeping bags as he looked out the back window.
He noticed a fire pit blazing on the patio in Brie's backyard. What the hell? In December? He couldn't help himself. He dug out some binoculars from his still unpacked suitcase. This wasn't like being a peeping Tom, he assured himself. He would have to be looking in her bedroom windows to be a peeping Tom. This was neighborly curiosity.
She'd scooped out snow all around her. Her dog sat at her side, looking comfortable in the frigid night. She read a book using a book light that hooked to the top of a page. Very interesting, he thought. Very damn interesting.
* * *
The Novicks would be home from their cruise on Christmas Eve. They expected her to have their outside lights up on their return. Brie couldn't put it off any longer. Her side jobs brought in good money. She'd almost saved enough to buy the living room furniture Liz was always hounding her about, but she really had her eyes set on a shiny new Jeep Wrangler. Regardless, it was the only house left on her list to decorate, and the forecast was for snow that night. The Novicks would come home to a beautifully lit home with a fresh coat of snow covering her tracks and the lights.