Kelly's Rules

by Barbara Miller

“Oh, yeah. I just thought it was a bad sign when he asked me to have the date at his house because he’d lost his driver’s license.”

  “Well, if you’re going to quibble about every man you meet, what’s the point?”

  “Which brings me back to—”

  Sue put out a hand. “Don’t say it. I’m leaving. Call me if you get serious about the dating service thing. I can walk you through it.”

  “You’ve tried it?” Kelly got up and helped Sue pack her equipment.

  “That’s how I met Joe Kirby.”

  This was a surprise. Joe didn’t strike Kelly as the sort of man who would clean up well enough for an Internet photo. He was more like someone you’d meet in a bar, which is what Kelly assumed happened. “You sure you didn’t pick him because you were trying to upgrade your last name?”

  “Sue Kirby. It does have a nice ring.” She got a dreamy look. “No, we are a perfect match.”

  Kelly thought about hard-working Sue vs. Joe who never lifted a finger if he could help it. “Oh good. Let me pay you for the haircut.”

  “No way, what are friends for?”

  “But it was your day off,” Kelly insisted.

  “You can help me paint the dining room.”

  “Deal. Let’s get together to pick out the paint. I’ll buy it. I get a contractor’s discount.”

  “Okay. Maybe tomorrow. Joe is taking us to Idlewild Park to swim this afternoon.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Kelly waved to the kids as they trailed out to Sue’s car. They were adorable and she loved them, but they were Sue’s. Kelly wanted her own.

  After tidying up the kitchen, Kelly wondered if she should cook some real food, but why bother? There was no family to eat it. Much as she was used to being alone, she didn’t want to stay like that the rest of her life.

  On the other hand she treasured her independence. No one told her what to do or messed with her stuff. No one took advantage of her or told her an English muffin and a cup of coffee made a poor dinner. More important, no one left rings on her wood furniture or grease marks on her slate countertop. Marrying a jerk would be far worse than staying single.

  She realized her desire for a child and her need for independence were in conflict, hence the solution of getting a child without a husband. She might be able to adopt as a single parent or even get foster kids. Those children often came with a load of problems and she didn’t have confidence that she’d be able to help them. In fact, what made her think she was competent to raise her own baby? She was back to a cat or dog, but somehow she didn’t think a pet would satisfy her hunger for company. Kelly wanted someone she could talk to someday.

  She went to turn off the kid DVD Daf had been watching and got sucked into it. Even though there was a comfy sofa and chair, she sat in the Boston rocker. She liked the same things kids liked. Maybe she just wanted to relive her own childhood. Oh wait, she didn’t want to go there. Well maybe she wanted someone to share childhood with. As she settled in watch the cartoon characters she started wishing for more ice cream.

  Chapter Two

  “Rule 2: Don’t let first impressions fool you. If the guy seems too good to be true, he’s probably an axe murderer.” — SMFA

  The movie was barely over and Kelly was about to go outside when a hulking silver SUV hesitated at her driveway. After the driver checked the mailbox, he finally turned in. The big tires spat little bits of gravel out into the grass. Kelly was predisposed to dislike the occupant just because of his oversized vehicle. He got out with a slip of paper in his hand. He was a hunk, but that wasn’t the first thing she noticed about him. His honey brown hair would mean their children would not be carrot tops, or if they were she wouldn’t care. She staggered out the front door and almost fell down the porch steps as she gazed at him.

  “I asked, are you Kelly Barr?”

  “Oh, yes. Sorry. May I help you?”

  He came as far as the steps with everything rippling that could possibly ripple during the simple activity of walking. He had a swagger like a pirate and a way of planting his hands on his hips that called to mind every hero from every romance novel she’d ever read.

  “The guys at the hardware store say you do houses.” He gave her house the once-over. From the front it was a typical Victorian down to the gingerbread porch decorations and white wicker furniture, but the back was more contemporary, and the inside was country.

  “I’m Quinn Farrell, by the way.”

  The name. He even had a fantastic name. Kelly cleared her throat. “Do?” She’d left the cleaning business behind years ago when she started buying old Victorian houses and remodeling them for sale. “Were you talking about gutting and remodeling?”

  He chuckled.

  God, what a throaty chuckle. Suddenly she forgot all about children and started to warm toward him of her own accord. Her heart was throbbing and so were various other body parts that hadn’t shown any interest in years.

  “Not gutting, but definitely remodeling.”

  She took a calming breath. “Where is the house?”

  “The corner of Hill and Deeds Street.”

  “The old Barkley Place? I bid on that house at the bank auction. It has a porch that reaches around four sides.”

  “I bought it. Now I’d like someone to manage the remodeling.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t work that way. I buy them and remodel, then sell them. I like to be my own boss.”

  What was she saying? Was she actually turning work down, low-risk work? Was she telling this doll to shove off and giving up the chance to see him every day, to bump heads over plans and blueprints? Yes, she was.

  “Are you sure you won’t look at it?”

  She’d give a pint of blood to get to work on the Barkley place. She was tempted. This guy must have paid cash, so he could be a good client, one who didn’t need to scrimp. Kelly shrugged. “No harm in taking a look, I guess.”

  “Great, hop in.”

  She thought about saying she’d come in her car but intuitively knew the Beast would never start, not twice in one day. It was her fate to get in this SUV and go look at the Barkley place. “I’ll just lock up.” Or else they’d find her bones in a ditch three months from now after the critters had recycled her. He could be an axe murderer, but he had that slip of paper in his hand, which really proved nothing except that he had her address. It was his total lack of interest in her except as a worker that won her over. She was a girl and he was going to trust her with his plumbing.

  Getting into the passenger seat was like mounting a horse. Quinn waited to see if Kelly could make it before mounting his side of the vehicle and backing it up the drive, clipping the forsythia hedge back along the way. All this thinking about mounting was making her hot again. But she shoved the baby-hungry part of her to the back of her skull and trotted out the business woman again. Yeah, she was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, but she was still CEO of her own small domain and the deal would have to be damn good to get her to work for any guy.

  “When did you close on the house?” she asked as he drove the short distance.

  “A few weeks ago. I live—lived in Pittsburgh. I’ve already moved in so I want to make it habitable as quickly as possible.”

  “It’s best not to leave a house empty too long and this one has been unheated for a whole year.”

  Kelly had put in a fair bid on the house plus a thousand, which means this guy might have come in right over her bid. She couldn’t understand anyone offering more unless they had fallen in love with the old place.

  He parked on Hill Street even though there was a driveway. Wise choice. The overgrown barberry hedges would have clawed scratches into his paint job the length of the vehicle. Quinn took a ring of keys out of his pocket. So that’s what that bulge had been. Kelly knew a moment of disappointment.

  They went through an antique gate, up some stone steps and entered through the kitchen door. A flick of the switch and they had light. Kell
y was entranced all over again as they toured the first floor. Sure it was dusty and cobwebby, but it wouldn’t take that much to whip it into shape. She stooped to polish a section of the parquet floor with her flannel shirt cuff. There was a little shine. Old Mrs. Barkley hadn’t had that entire staff for nothing. The wainscoting was the same rich cherry hue as the parquet and the woodwork was unpainted. Her heart skipped a beat as she fingered the satiny surface. Besides the large kitchen that ran the length of the back of the house, there was a dining room, a living room and two front rooms, which probably had been used for teas or musicals. A later addition to the brick monolith did not detract from its beauty since it was on the inside of the corner lot.

  If Kelly were an unscrupulous person, she could charge him thousands just to spit shine the place, but she wasn’t like that, even toward someone who had stolen an historic treasure from her. “You know you could just get the gas turned back on and get a cleaning crew in here. It would be livable ’til you decide what else you want to do.”

  “I want to bring the wiring up to code.”

  “That’s another matter. Let’s start in the basement.”

  Quinn grabbed a flashlight, and Kelly opened the door that led down off the huge kitchen.

  What she wouldn’t give to live here.

  He shined the flashlight on the main box. “I’m an accountant, an auditor actually. I know nothing about wiring.”

  Funny, he didn’t look anything like an accountant. “I checked this out before. Armored cable. If all of it is like this it’s probably safe.”

  “Are you sure? I thought it would be better to start from scratch.”

  “Even if you want a two-twenty line and more outlets, we can use it as is, then create a whole new service entrance. Then once all the new wiring is in place, we cut over to the new box.”

  “Can you do all that?”

  “I’m not sure we need to do all that. I’m not an electrician, but I work with one. I pave the way so to speak. He likes to string his own wire but I do all the prep. Drill the holes, buy the wire and parts. Then he comes on a weekend and we go at it.”

  “I’m interested.”

  She turned to stare at him, hoping to read something into those words, but he was looking at the wiring, not her. “The plumbing’s another matter.” she finally said.

  “The lines had been drained, but I turned the main back on and turned off the shutoffs where it leaked. So it needs some work and probably a couple new hot water tanks. All I get is cold water. All the drains are slow.”

  “We can work on the leaks first and see if there’s an easy fix for the outgoing system. Otherwise, we’ll replace it. What else do you want to tackle?” Now she was feeling too much like a businesswoman, but probably that was a good thing. She didn’t want to be fuzzy-headed when making a contract.

  Quinn pulled a list from his flannel shirt pocket, a long list. Now he seemed like an accountant. “The roof and fireplaces. I’d like at least one fireplace able to burn wood and I can see places in the attic where rain has leaked in.”

  “Let’s have a look at the chimney system from the top down. I think I can get out there through an attic window.”

  Ten minutes later Kelly was standing by the huge chimney that topped the center of the house and shining a flashlight down the four main flues of the chimney. She felt euphoric being up here on top of everything. “Nothing blocked here, though it does need a cleaning.”

  “Be careful. You don’t even have a rope around you.” Quinn sounded as though he really cared. Maybe she was reading too much into his comment. He wouldn’t want anyone to fall off his roof.

  Satisfied with her inspection of the flues, Kelly turned and looked out over the town, amazed how far she could see. The Barkley House had once sat beyond the town, which had crept up on it over the decades. “I can see my place from here. This would be a great place for a widow’s walk.”

  “Would you get back in here?”

  She couldn’t see Quinn but his voice sounded panicked now. Best not to ask him for help with roof work.

  “I see you have a few chipped slates,” she said on her crawl along the rooftop. “These old slate roofs last forever if you just keep patching them. I’m pretty light. I should be able to do that for you. The only problem is that many insurance companies won’t write a policy on a house with a roof older than fifteen years.”

  “I can live with that. Just don’t fall.”

  “No problem. I have worker’s comp insurance.”

  “I don’t think that covers death,” Quinn choked out.

  Kelly laughed at his wry wit and eased her way toward the window on her gum-soled work boots. He grabbed her hand as though she were drowning. Then he almost hugged her when she was safe inside. It was a physically intimate moment and she didn’t care that it came about because of Quinn’s fears. He could be kind and concerned. The roof walk had been a good test of his character.

  Mental note, Quinn did not like heights. Quinn would be eternally grateful not to have to go on the roof. Quinn would admire her for roof work. It wasn’t sexual but it was something.

  “So you’ll do it?” he asked once his breathing returned to normal.

  “It shouldn’t slow me down on my next project. I don’t even know what that will be yet.”

  “Do you think you can handle all this?” He gestured around the attic but she understood he meant the entire house.

  “If you had any doubts, why did you ask me?”

  “It’s just…seeing you on that roof scared the hell out of me.”

  “Listen up, Quinn. Guys are top-heavy, so most of their weight is above the waist. Women are the opposite, thus are much more qualified not to go pitching off a roof. Besides, we don’t have anything to prove, so we’re a lot more careful.”

  “You make it sound so simple, like all men are disqualified from roof work, or all women can do it.”

  “It’s not that simple, of course, just like all men are not abusive bastards and all women are not angels. But hormones tend to weight the averages.”

  He wiped sweat off his brow. “You seem to have a very jaundiced opinion of men.”

  She stared at him standing there in his macho work clothes and thought he looked more like a lumberjack than an accountant, except for that fear of heights. “Experience is a bitter teacher.”

  He winced and she wondered if he had his own battle scars from the sexual arena.

  “Well, is it a contract?” he asked.

  Kelly offered her hand and he shook it, all trace of concern now gone. “I’ll work out a written agreement. You can have your lawyer vet it if you want.”

  Quinn smiled. “I can probably interpret it for myself.”

  They worked their way down from the attic, voices sounding hollow in the empty rooms as they discussed possible improvements. No point in painting a wall if you meant to remove it, but so far the walls were safe, unless he got carried away. “It’ll be in phases,” Kelly said, “so we can both back out at given points of completion if you don’t pay or I fail to deliver.”

  He blew out a tired breath when they got to the main floor. “What could go wrong?”

  “Never what you expect. Even though we’re not changing the dimensions of the house, we should get a building permit. I can handle that for you. We’ll need an electrical permit too, but my guy will get that once he sees what’s to be done.”

  “What will all that cost?” Quinn asked.

  “Probably fifty dollars.” When he was silent she continued. “If you don’t have it, I can spot you.” Yikes. If he couldn’t afford a building permit, how was this going to work?

  “I opened an account at the savings and loan, but my deposit won’t be available for several days.”

  They had come in the back door because that was the key he found first. Now he opened the front door for her. He actually opened the door for her. “Okay, if you have your lot number we can stop and apply for one on the way home,” she said. “
Lock up and—watch out!” She grabbed his sleeve as his foot went through the front porch floor.

  “Oops. I forgot to mention that.” He accepted her arm for stability as he gingerly pulled his leg out of the hole.

  “I’ll add it to the list.” She shined the flashlight on the two-by-sixes underneath. “I think it’s just the flooring. You want wood or something that won’t deteriorate?”

  “I want to make it as authentic as possible.”

  “Tongue and groove then.” She gingerly tested the rest of the porch. “Some of it might be sound, but frankly I think a whole porch floor is the safest.” She pulled a roll of construction tape out of her pocket to string a warning over the top of the front steps. “Better not use this door until we’re done here. You don’t want to be sued if the paperboy falls through.”

  “You think of everything.”

  “Not everything.” Like how was she going to work for this guy and keep her mind on work when she was majorly attracted to him. He may be married, you jerkess. You can look, but don’t touch. They’d gone back inside and secured the front door when a ringtone called her back from her mental road trip. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asked.

  He took his phone out and punched a button that silenced it though it kept on blinking. “I don’t know about you, but I think it’s rude to answer a phone when you’re with someone else.”

  She smiled and nodded. Wow, he was with her, as in almost like they were equals. A guy who had good taste and manners. Her cup indeed was running over. But, oh yeah. Maybe he was just faking being sensitive to impress her. She’d been through that before. Still, she could give him a chance. Besides what were they talking about? Just her working for him. It wasn’t like a commitment or anything. She was sure his concern for her on the roof was genuine so why would he be faking niceness now? Kelly was just suspicious of all men and it might have ruined her for a real nice guy.

  He gave Kelly a key to the back door, then drove with her to the township office where they filled out the application for a building permit.

  She talked as they stood at the desk and she checked boxes and filled in data. “Most of what you need done is cosmetic or falls under repairs and decorating. You’re not changing the dimensions of the house. We can work on some of the minor stuff while we wait for this to pass. One to two weeks, max.”