OFF THE MARKET

by Casia Shreyer

  “So, you’re ready to put the house up for sale then?” She was busy pulling out papers from different files.

  “Yeah, we are. I don’t really know what’s involved with all this.”

  “Well, I’ll need the information of the owner of the house, which in this case is your parents’ estate. You’re the executor of the estate?”

  “That’s what it said in the will.”

  “Good, that makes it easier. I won’t need your brothers’ signatures on anything.” She smiled at him. “Well, have a seat, this shouldn’t take long.”

  They spent an hour discussing square footage, the age of the structure and furnace, and what was included in the sale. Exasperated she said, “You can’t leave all the furniture behind. The family that moves in is going to want space for their own furniture.”

  Paul raked his hand through his hair. “Look, we took what we wanted already. Whatever the new family doesn’t want can be donated to the church. They can auction it off to help pay for the repairs.”

  “That’s very generous of you.”

  “It’s my mother’s furniture, and my mother’s church. Seemed like the simplest answer.”

  She smiled and nodded and they continued their heated discussion as they ironed out each detail necessary for a proper listing. Finally she slid the papers over to his side of the cluttered desk. “I’ll need you to sign everywhere there’s an ‘x’, it should be three or four places. And then we’re done. I’ll call you if there are any offers and if you accept an offer you’ll have to drive down to sign the papers, otherwise, I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Thanks, Angie. I guess I’ll see you when the offer comes in.”

  “Oh, when are you leaving?”

  “As soon as my bag is packed. I’ve been away from the business long enough. I have to make sure my second-in-command didn’t bankrupt me, or fire all my staff.”

  “Oh, of course. I just thought …” She sighed. “Well, good-bye Paul.”

  His smile looked sad. “Good-bye Angie.”

  When Paul stepped into the foyer, his mind in a turmoil, he found Shirley Bryant staring at one of the framed paintings, hugging herself. She wore a light knit cardigan in a pale lemon yellow over khakis and, well, he couldn’t see her shirt. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and it looked a little too short to be attractive that way.

  “Shirley? I wasn’t expecting you.”

  She jumped and turned. “Oh, Paul, I heard you were finished with the house. I was afraid you’d already be gone.”

  “I’m on my way to pack. What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted to talk again.”

  Paul sighed. How many times when I was young were people too busy to hear me? By the time Dad started in on me as well as Mom I had stopped trying to get help.

  “I’ve got a few minutes. Or you could come up with me while I pack.”

  “I don’t know if …” She looked at the big picture windows. “Yes, maybe going up would be a good idea.”

  He ushered her up the stairs and into his room, leaving the door open behind them. She rested precariously on the chair reminding Paul very much of how he must have looked on his first night here.

  “So, you’re going back to the city then?”

  He nodded. After finding out he had to stay in Barnes Lake more than two nights he had unpacked his bag into the dresser. Now he pulled the suitcase out and began repacking, taking the time to neaten folds and carefully tuck everything into the bag so Shirley wouldn’t feel rushed.

  “I guess you have no reason to stay.”

  There was an odd inflection to her voice but he was too caught up feeling hurt that things with Angie hadn’t worked out to really take note of Shirley’s body language or ponder its meaning. “No, no reason to stay.”

  “Yeah, I don’t have much either. I mean, Jeff and I don’t have much, and most of that is his or the kids’. We get by but …” She sighed. “It would be nice to have pretty things for once.”

  He smiled at her. “You deserve a good life, Shirley.”

  “Oh, with Jeff there’s never enough, never will be enough.”

  He gave her his full attention. “Shirley, listen to me, I know a safe place where you and the kids can stay if you need one.”

  “How could you possibly be the only one to really notice me?”

  “I’ve had some experience with …”

  But Shirley wasn’t listening; she was staring at Paul with big wide eyes. “With Jeff I thought I could get somewhere; he promised me the world and all I got was Barnes Lake.”

  “If you want to leave I’ll help you.”

  She sprung from the chair and flung her arms around him. “Oh, Paul, I knew from the time we were sixteen that you were special, that you really understood me. Of course I’ll go with you.” She planted a solid kiss on his lips, one he was too startled to fend off. “I don’t even need to pack. I’ll be good to you and we’ll build a beautiful life in the city.”

  He pried himself free of her and held her at arm’s length. “Stop it, Shirley.”

  “What’s wrong Paul?” She tried to touch his face but he held her back. “Is there someone else? You told me there was no one in your life. You told me you’d take me to the city with you.”

  “I was making small talk, Shirley, not flirting, and I never invited you to stay with me. I offered to get you and your children to a women’s shelter I know of.”

  “Oh, let Jeff keep the kids. It would serve him right. We could start fresh together, like we were meant to do all along.”

  “You selfish little …” he seethed, wanting to swear at her but unable to find a word potent enough for the rage he felt. He saw his mother deliberately dropping a dish on the floor so his father would take his anger out on her instead of him or his brothers and he started shouting. “What do you think Jeff would do to those children if he found you’d left him for another man? Neglect is probably the nicest thing they could hope for and your oldest would probably have to drop out of school to take care of the other three. Or he’ll just hit them instead, if he hasn’t started hitting the older ones already! I’ll load all five of you up and drive you to the shelter myself, when you’re ready to be a mother and do what’s right for those kids. But you keep your hands off of me.”

  “I thought you cared,” she wailed, tears streaming down her face.

  “I do care, Shirley, and I’m willing to help when you want it. Mrs. Barbour knows how to reach me in the city.” He picked up his bag and headed for the door, then stopped and studied her a moment. “Shirley, get help, from me or someone else, but get it, and soon. Or I’ll have Child and Family Services called to check your kids for bruises. Get those kids out before he hurts them.” He left her in the room, still crying.

  Chapter 13

  “Paul, what’s more economic for a large building, gas heat or electric?”

  “Hey Paul, off the top of your head, what’s cheaper, sliding windows or the ones with the crank handles?”

  “Paul, you wouldn’t happen to have the formula for converting metric to imperial, would you?”

  Paul was hiding in his office. Since they had piled into the car and started back to the city Joe had been pestering him with random questions. And Matt was no help, he just moped about and wouldn’t talk to anyone but his customers and then only when necessary.

  Paul sighed; the mountain of paperwork should have been holding his attention but the words looked like some alien language and the numbers wouldn’t line up so there was no way he could make them add up. And if Joe asks me one more of his stupid questions I’ll wring his neck.

  As if on cue that familiar voice said, “Hey Paul.”

  His head snapped up and there was Joe in the doorway, grinning away. “What is it now?” Paul grumbled.

  Joe held up his hands in mock surrender, revealing that one of them held a brown paper bag. “I brought you lunch to say sorry. I’ve been a pain in your back side, I’m sure, but I think that’s
the end of the questions for a while.”

  Paul breathed a silent sigh of relief. He sincerely hoped that one day Joe would hit upon that perfect business venture but he wasn’t sure the world was ready to deal with ‘Joe, the independent business man’ just yet. I know I’m not.

  Joe dropped the bag on the already cluttered desk and backed away, still grinning. “You should try to relax Paul. You’ve been looking stressed lately.

  Paul snarled but Joe was already gone. He ran both hands through his hair. He knew he looked stressed, he felt stressed! I should be working, not thinking about Barnes Lake. I’ve wasted enough time on that place already. And yet his bookkeeping and payroll remained untouched. Lunch was a welcome distraction and when it was gone he stared at the clutter of paperwork with disdain. After twenty fruitless minutes of staring at shift logs he was delighted by the phone ringing.

  “Handy Man’s Special Contracting, how may I help you?”

  “Is this Paul Anderson?” asked the well-manicured voice on the other end.

  “Yes sir,” Paul replied.

  “My name is Howard Able, and I represent Cedar Creek Resorts. We are interested in acquiring your services for a unique job.”

  “We’re well equipped to handle a wide variety of builds and renovations,” Paul said, scrambling to find a pen and a clean sheet of paper.

  “Then let me tell you about our plans and requirements. We have recently acquired land and wish to build a lodge style resort, complete with conference rooms, a pool, and a restaurant. In addition to the hotel wing we also require the renovation of twenty-two guest cabins.”

  Paul had built twenty-two houses on a cul-de-sac to kill the time between his graduation and Joe’s. Now his heart started pounding in his chest. “I take it this will be outside of the city,” he said, both fearful and hopeful at once.

  “Yes. I hope that won’t be a problem. Every other company we approached turned us down based solely on location. We understand that the cost of boarding workers away from the city can be high but we only require the services of several foremen and crew chiefs. We are starting a work initiative to hire all local workers for the lower positions.”

  “Well, that saves me money and leaves me enough people to finish my other projects,” Paul said. “I can send you a copy of my employee contract and I’ll pay them the same as I pay any other skilled, or unskilled, worker.”

  “Thank-you Mr. Anderson, we will use your contract as a model, but the workers will be hired by us and paid by us.”

  “Well, that lowers my fees even further,” Paul said, marveling at the high handed self-assurance of his latest client. “But why don’t you use a rural company?”

  “They were all overwhelmed by the size of the project, or they refused to work with the local people. And as I said, some turned us down based on location alone.”

  Paul took a slow, deep breath. “Where exactly are you building, Mr. Able?”

  “Barnes Lake.”

  “It’s done.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line and then a tentative, “Are you certain, Mr. Anderson? I could send you the plans and let you …”

  “Send the plans. I’ll have men down there waiting for you, tomorrow. I have paperwork to do here but I’ll go down to double check how it’s going in a few days.”

  “Oh, well, that’s very prompt. I’ll send you the plans and I’ll have our contact in Barnes Lake arrange for the local work force to meet me, and your foremen, at the site tomorrow.”

  “You sound flustered, Mr. Able.”

  “To be honest, Mr. Anderson, we didn’t think we’d be starting this soon.”

  “With a bit of luck we’ll finish the framing and roof before the end of the building season so we can work indoors all winter. With any luck we’ll have you up and running before the end of camping season next summer.”

  It took two days for Paul to catch up his paperwork and covertly book himself a room at the Barnes Lake Bed and Breakfast. In that time he said nothing to his brothers about the contract he had taken or his plans to return to Barnes Lake to check the job site and to see Angie again.

  He left after dinner, sped most of the way to Barnes Lake, and pulled into the bed and breakfast parking lot around seven o’clock the next morning. The usually empty lot mow had some half dozen cars, most of which Paul recognized from the main yard where the crews parked when they picked up the heavy equipment. When he walked in with his overnight bag, there was no one behind the counter, but there was enough noise coming from the dining room to tell him where to look first.

  Steve, the project manager and Paul’s right hand man, along with four site foremen and one crew chief, who happened to be one of a half down women who worked for Paul’s firm, were laughing and talking over a hot breakfast. They had all been told the same half-truth before taking on the job – Paul wanted to surprise the people of his home town so they were not to mention his name and if they saw him they weren’t to let on that they knew him.

  “Something smells good in here,” he said.

  Mrs. Barbour was on her feet faster than a woman her age had the right to move. She was flushed with a joyful glow and she almost hugged him.

  “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

  “I got away earlier than planned.” It was only a little lie and he wasn’t ready to admit how much he’d wanted to come back.

  “Let me get your key,” she led him back to the foyer as she talked. “Room 303, right?”

  “If it’s open; you seem to have a full house.”

  “Not quite full,” she beamed. “But it sure feels good.” She handed him the key.

  “Do you mind if I tuck my bag behind the counter? I drove all night and it looks like you’ve got pancakes left in there.”

  She studied him until he fidgeted and blushed under her stare. “Is that Paul or just Joe playing a trick on these old eyes?”

  “It’s Paul,” he muttered, feeling very much like a child.

  She smiled all the wider. “Come on in and sit,” she said. “I’ll find you a coffee.”

  “Thanks for breakfast,” Steve was saying as Paul came back in. “We’d best be off. Our boss is a slave driver and this is a big project.” He shot Paul a quick grin and they pushed away from the table leaving Paul alone with Mrs. Barbour.

  “Where’s Angie and Mr. Barbour?” he asked as he served himself.

  Mrs. Barbour was already clearing dirty plates. “Bill’s caught a pretty bad summer cold that’s laid him up in bed. And Angie was up late last night. A lot’s been going on since you left, Paul. Oh, but I’m sure Angie will get you caught up.”

  “Get who caught up on what?”

  The sound of her voice was exactly what he wanted, and needed, to hear and he turned in his chair. “Good morning,” he said.

  She frowned. “You’re back awfully soon. The house hasn’t sold yet.”

  Her cool attitude threw him off beat and he didn’t notice Mrs. Barbour slip quietly into the kitchen. He knew they hadn’t parted the best of friends but he though it hadn’t gone as bad as it could have. He tried to keep smiling. “I came back to pick up an end table from the old home. The cheap one in our apartment broke.”

  “Oh. Sure. I’ll give you the key and you can drop it off at City Hall later.” She sat and slid the last two pancakes onto her plate. “You’re heading home today? Or did you have plans in town?”

  “No and no. We’re between big contracts,” he lied, “And I thought I’d come back for a few days to visit, maybe find something I’ve been looking for. Your mom said you might get me caught up on what’s been going on in town. Are you free for dinner?”

  She looked at him with sad eyes. “Paul, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “As friends, Angie. Just to talk.”

  She hesitated.

  “I’ll camp outside your office door all day.”

  “I don’t believe you’d really do that,” she said, glaring. “Fine. Dinn
er. But this is not a date.”

  “I promise.”

  He didn’t need an end table but it would fit in his car and it was a good excuse to be in town. He took a moment to unpack then called Steve to check in. They spent an hour exchanging facts, figures, and phone numbers and Paul ended up with three pages of notes and half a page of things he had to take care of.

  He went by the house and grabbed the night stand from his mother’s room and loaded it gently in the back seat. He left the key in an envelope in Angie’s mail box since her office door was closed and he could hear her talking to someone then drove to the store to pick up a bite for lunch.

  The girl behind the till perked up when he came in. “Hi Mr. Anderson! I didn’t know you were back in town. Is Joe with you?”

  Paul frowned but tried to hide it. “I’m sorry, no, Joe didn’t come. And you can call me Paul.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m Candace O’Neil. I sort of made friends with Joe while he was here, I guess he didn’t mention me. I’m Judy Jayson’s cousin, but on the other side of the family so I’m not actually related to the Jayson’s. I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

  He gave her a puzzled look and she blushed.

  “Oh. I guess Matt didn’t mention Judy either.”

  Awkward silence descended and Paul thought, No wonder Matt’s hardly said two words since we went back. He had friends here, they both did. Why didn’t they tell me?

  An older lady stepped out of one of the aisles and said, “Candace, would you be a dear and load a bag of flour into my cart?”

  “Sure thing Mrs. Fields. See you later, Paul.” She disappeared down the aisle and he could hear her asking Mrs. Fields if someone was waiting to unload the flour at her home. Half in a daze Paul grabbed a lunch, paid, and wandered out to the job site to ‘sight see’ and check the progress.