by Day Leclaire
"Plans?"
"You know. Your system." He frowned. "You do have a system?"
"Right. My system."
She offered a brilliant smile. That settled it. Telling him about the third request was a definite no go. With luck, Cory and Donna would serve out their sentence with Julian none the wiser. And she could remain none the wiser about his reaction had she told him.
"Why don't we discuss systems and plans and all that stuff later?" she suggested.
Julian checked his watch and nodded. "You're right. I don't have the time right now. It'll keep until this afternoon."
"This afternoon," she repeated, relieved to have a few hours to devise something that would pass for Julian's idea of a system.
Apparently sensing her concern, he threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. Every nerve ending went on instant red alert and all she could think about was rubbing and kisses and chocolate. They both froze at the spontaneous contact and stepped cautiously apart again. Not that it helped. She still thought about rubbing and kisses and chocolate.
He forced a smile. "Don't worry. We'll work it out. But I should really get a move on."
She nodded, careful to keep her mouth tightly shut so nothing unfortunate spilled out. Like another confession about sex or grief or detours along a furry map to hell. Or was it heaven?
Together, they headed for the hallway where Julian gazed doubtfully at the waiting teens. "Good luck getting this place cleaned up. I'll be interested to see what you're able to do." With that he leaned down and gave Callie a kiss on the forehead—a very chaste kiss on the forehead—and left.
She pretended not to hear Donna's blissful little sigh. Her wide-eyed glazed expression was a bit more difficult to ignore. Fortunately it seemed Cory didn't care for his girlfriend's reaction, either.
"Snap out of it, blondie." He poked her in the ribs, his black brows drawing together. "You bat those baby blues of yours any faster and your eyelashes will be airborne. What do you see in such an old geezer, anyway?"
"He's not an old geezer," Donna said indignantly. She turned to Callie for confirmation. "He's not much older than you, is he? I mean he's more mature. But he's not old."
"He has six years on me," Callie admitted with an unwarranted amount of satisfaction. "He turned thirty last month."
"Thirty?" Donna appeared crestfallen for a brief moment, then brightened. "He doesn't look thirty. Maybe he's one of those types who never seem to age."
Cory snorted. "Yeah, for sure. I took one look at the guy and said to myself, now there's a man who never seems to age. He looks thirty now and I'll bet five years from now, Callie's whateverheis won't look a day over thirty-five. Get real." He glanced her way. "By the way, what is he to you?"
"We're exes."
"You were married?" Donna squeaked.
"No. We were brother and sister. Only we're definitely not anymore. Not even close. Nope. A long, long way from that."
Cory lifted an eyebrow. "A long way, huh?"
She nodded emphatically. "A long, long way. Light years long." Aware the two teens were eyeing her strangely, she gestured toward the dining room. "Come on. Let's get going on today's project."
Cory slung his black leather jacket over his shoulder. "I don't suppose you made some more of those chocolate chip cookies?" he asked with boyish greed. "They sure were good."
She smiled at his hopeful expression. "In the kitchen."
"Do you think we could try out a new home perm?" Donna piped up, fluffing her neon-tinted hair. "Mom doesn't always have time, what with her work schedule and all."
"We'll make time," Callie assured her. "Shall we start work?"
At their ready assent she led the way into the dining room, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt that she wasn't following Julian's instructions. He had been rather insistent that they put everything back together again as soon as possible. And she'd do it, too. Eventually.
"Brutus selected the dining room for today's project," Callie announced. "Of course, that means tearing down more walls."
"Great!" Cory exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "Mass destruction. My favorite part."
She frowned at him. "Don't get too enthusiastic about it. That's how you ended up on this work detail in the first place. The judge didn't appreciate that little number you did with the spray cans down by the dock."
"Oh, yeah, right."
Callie eyed each in turn, speaking with a sternness contrary to her nature. "Just remember the only reason you two aren't in juvey hall is because Maudie agreed to accept responsibility for your future behavior. It's either work here or spend the summer in Willow's resort for wayward teens. If you're lucky, the judge will allow me to stand in for Maudie. But I have to agree to it first. So keep me agreeable."
Cory shot her a cocky grin. "If tearing down walls keeps you agreeable, I'm all for it."
* * *
Several hours later, Donna poked her permed pink-and-purple head into the kitchen, watching Callie pour lemonade into three tall glasses. "We're through in the dining room. You want to see?"
"Sure do. Here, have a glass."
"Thanks." Donna selected one and took a quick sip. "We were real careful this time. We even cleaned up when we finished." She opened the door to the dining room with something of a flourish.
Callie glanced around, impressed. "This looks great," she said, handing Cory his glass of lemonade.
The two had done a fantastic job. First, they'd stripped off the ugly black paneling covering the walls. Next, they'd pulled the lath-and-plaster wallboard off the two-by-four support studs. Finally, they'd cleaned away the chunks of plaster and scraps of lumber, filling a dozen industrial strength plastic bags. They'd even opened the windows to vent the dust lingering in the air.
Cory grinned at her satisfied expression. "Everything's done except taking the trash to the dump. We decided to leave that for you. You can't expect us to do it all."
Callie laughed. "Heaven forbid."
"Do you think your ex will like what we did?" Donna asked eagerly. Cory rolled his eyes and groaned, impervious to her glare of annoyance.
Callie struggled to hide her amusement. As reluctant as she was to shatter the illusions of her young lovestruck helper, Callie had a sneaking suspicion she'd have trouble just explaining the condition of the dining room to Julian, much less getting him to like it.
"He's going to love it," Callie informed Donna, attempting to sound confident. She scanned the room one final time.
It never ceased to amaze her what a difference walls made to the overall appearance. Without them, the remaining two-by-four studs were all that framed the room—that and the ancient tube-and-knob electrical wiring running between the wooden beams. Faulty electrical wiring, too. At some point the entire house would need a complete upgrade. But for now...
She glanced at Cory. "Will your brother be able to come by tomorrow and start rewiring in here and in the study?"
"He can't wait." Cory picked up the hammers and crowbars scattered around the room and put them in the toolbox. "He says it'll be fantabulous experience for when he's a real electrician."
"Good. Tell him bright and early tomorrow."
"No problem. Ten o'clock it is. What will we work on while Ted does the electrical?" He shot her a mischievous grin. "Or hasn't Brutus decided yet?"
Callie refused to be baited. She'd grown accustomed to being teased about Brutus, but it hadn't changed her mind about his abilities one iota. "I'll let you know tomorrow," she informed him blandly. "Who knows? Maybe we'll pull apart the floors instead of the wall."
And maybe Julian would pull her apart.
She removed Maudie's latest note from her pocket, one they'd found hidden in the dining room, and studied it. The repairs wouldn't be a problem. Not once he read the note and realized tearing the place apart was the most logical way to find the will. Julian appreciated logic. Julian understood logic.
Heck, Julian lived, breathed, and ate logic.
>
Chapter 4
Rule #6:
Learn to cut your losses,
or prepare to find yourself
on the short end of the stick.
Later that afternoon, Callie peeked into the oven to check on her baking for the school fundraiser. "Yes, Mayor Fishbecker," she said, balancing the receiver of the landline on her shoulder while closing the oven door on the not-quite-done cakes. "I do think the statue of your grandfather is looking a bit dingy. I quite agree. Something should be done about it."
Valerie came up beside her. "Callie," she whispered urgently. "You promised to help me. Tell the mayor to get a scrub brush and a bucket of hot soapy water and stop wasting your time."
"A hundred dollar donation?" Callie hesitated, remembering the dwindling balance in her checking account. "Gee, Mayor, that seems awfully steep—"
"Jingle's Hardware has buckets, soap, and scrub brushes, all for under five bucks. Tell him that."
"Well, I guess I could manage fifty."
"Fifty? What does he want to do, gold plate it?"
"Raise the money for you? You mean, call people and ask for a donation? Maybe I— You're welcome, but— Mayor? Hello?" Callie hung up the phone and stared at it. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make a few phone calls."
Valerie shook her head. "No one in their right mind is going to donate a plugged nickel to clean that old statue of the mayor's."
"I did," Callie said absently. She sat at the kitchen table and added the mayor's request to an already lengthy list.
"That's because everyone knows you're an easy touch." Valerie gave an exasperated sigh. "Could we finish our conversation before anyone else calls? Can you babysit Danny tomorrow or not?"
"Sure. Let me add it to my list."
"No, don't do that. It'll just get lost. I'll tack a reminder to the refrigerator door." She put words into action. "I've got to run." She paused and eyed Callie sternly, her hands on her hips. "You won't forget now, will you?"
"I won't. I promise."
"Just checking." She flashed an impish grin. "I wouldn't want you to forget Danny the way you have those cakes." She sniffed the air. "I do believe something's burning." And with that, she made a hasty exit.
* * *
Callie heard a car pull into the driveway just as a clock somewhere in the depths of the house struck four. She scraped the final smidgen of icing from the mixing bowl and spread it over the top of the cake.
"Julian's home," she informed Brutus, although he clearly didn't need any warning.
The St. Bernard peeked out from his hiding place in the pantry and attempted a growl, though the noise he made sounded more like a whimper. With an embarrassed snort he backed out of sight.
"You're being ridiculous, you know." She licked the last of the chocolate icing off the spatula. "If Maudie saw you slinking around like that she'd be downright ashamed. Julian was kidding about the baseball bat. Can't you take a joke?"
A sharp bark erupted from the pantry.
"Well, you better not desert me today the way you did last night," she warned, carrying her baking paraphernalia to the sink. "I told you what happened because of it. And now look what I've gone and done."
She glanced at the four cakes and wiped the perspiration from her brow. With the heat steadily building throughout the day, she'd been crazy to bake four when Suzanne Samuel only needed three for the school fundraiser, especially after she'd burned the first two.
That spare cake would be a problem. No. The real problem would be limiting herself to a single slice. Her craving for chocolate had reached insatiable levels, something she couldn't remember ever happening before.
The front door slammed and Callie tilted her head to one side, listening to the distinctive rhythm of Julian's footsteps. They resounded first in the hallway, and then on the stairs leading to the second floor. Good. Maybe she'd have time for a piece of cake before he came looking for her. That way she could fortify herself against any further... cravings.
Julian returned downstairs the exact instant she put a second forkful of cake in her mouth. She reached for her glass of milk, hurriedly washing down the bite. Time to switch to "ex" mode, since she'd decided being his ex-everything was far safer than any other relationship. And time to discover how much Julian appreciated the fine job the kids had accomplished with the dining room.
Brutus poked his nose out of the pantry and they both waited for Julian's reaction.
He walked down the hallway, passing the dining room without pausing, and continued on his way to the kitchen.
Callie grinned at Brutus. "See? And you were worried about what he might say. Julian understands all about redecorating. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he's really impressed with what we achieved today. Trust me."
She relaxed back in her chair for two whole seconds, until she heard his footsteps stop with nerve-racking abruptness, then retrace themselves. She listened, straining to hear an indication—any indication—of his reaction to their efforts.
He opened the dining room door and a loud thin wail pierced the awful silence. That isn't Julian, Callie reassured herself. It's only a squeaky hinge. She swallowed, her throat inexplicably dry and snatched up her glass of milk again, this time guzzling half of it.
Next came the noisy echo of shoes striking the wood flooring in the vacant room. Okay, he's gone in, she determined, and he's looking around. He'd make a slow leisurely examination of the wonderful job they'd done. Next he'd notice how carefully they'd swept up the debris, how thoroughly they'd pulled all the nails out of the wooden two-by-fours, how much—
"Cal-lie!"
Brutus gave a hoarse yip and barreled out of the pantry, knocking over a shelf of canned goods, a stack of paper towels, and a mop and bucket. He broke into the kitchen at a gallop, upending two chairs in his path. As graceful as a gazelle with a wooden leg, he leaped over a third chair and landed square on top of a throw rug. Aladdin on his flying carpet couldn't have done better. Brutus sailed majestically across the kitchen floor, past Callie, and out the back screen door, a can of chili rolling in his wake.
"You can't do this to me again!" Callie cried. She jumped to her feet and raced to the back door. It was too late. Brutus was nowhere to be seen. "You... You... You backstabber!"
"Exactly." Julian stalked into the kitchen. Two dark red patches of color rode high on his cheeks. His eyes flashed with black wrath. "What have you done to the dining room? No. Strike that. I know what you've done to the dining room. What I want to know is why. Why did you rip it all apart? No. Strike that. I can even guess why you did your best to gut the place, despite my explicit instructions. It's because of Maudie's request, isn't it?"
Callie opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again in the face of his continued diatribe.
"Damn it, Callie! Have you any idea the time and money it's going to take to get this house back into shape? You can't have. Because if you did, you wouldn't have ripped apart another room." His gaze fell on the table and he snatched up her list, examining it carefully. "I can't believe this. On top of everything else, you're supposed to do all these things?" He glared at her in disbelief. "I think I understand. Finally. You don't know what you're doing. Anything anyone wants from you, you give them. That's it, isn't it?"
Fury blistered his voice and expression, yet even in a rage, Callie found him irresistible. A pair of old, tight jeans hugged his narrow hips and muscled thighs like a lover. His short-sleeved cotton shirt emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the power of his biceps. And his mouth... Even when biting off his words as though they were rusty nails, that glorious mouth of his made her want to kiss him again.
Callie sighed. Julian's chameleonlike changes from sophistication to casual informality were playing havoc with her emotions. She wished he'd stick to one image. She glanced longingly at the kitchen table—and the four cakes. Four was not going to be enough.
"Callie, have you listened to a single word I've said?"
"No," she
admitted. "Those cakes are calling to me. Would you like a piece?"
He stared at her in silence, then shook his head, clearly at a loss. Without another word he returned her list to the table, righted the two chairs Brutus had knocked over, and picked up the can of chili, setting it on the counter. He strode to the back door and went out.
Callie's brows drew together in concern. She'd hurt his feelings, she realized with growing dismay. At the very least she'd insulted him. But he didn't understand. If only she didn't find him so distracting. She'd thought baking the cakes would help, but it only made her think about him all the more.
It was her emotional circuitry going haywire again, she decided with a grimace. Maybe when Cory's brother came tomorrow he could rewire her, along with the dining room. She hurried to the back door.
She could see Julian walking along the shoreline of the lake, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his head bent in thought. Brutus, curiosity causing his ears to twitch every so often, trailed after Julian, keeping a cautious distance between them.
Callie sighed. This was all her fault. He wouldn't be feeling so out of sorts if it weren't for her. She should join him and try to explain about Maudie and her latest note.
Pushing open the screen door, she stepped outside. The intensity of the heat took her by surprise, perspiration coating her skin with tiny beads of moisture. The humidity must be close to a hundred percent. She crossed the broad green expanse of grass to the edge of the lake. Once there, she kicked off her shoes and bent to roll up the cuffs of her jeans.
"Julian, wait." She splashed through the shallows to his side. He, too, walked barefoot. He also kept walking despite her call, but she didn't let that deter her. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry."
"I'm not angry." He continued steadily toward a stand of willow trees bordering the lake.
"How about, disappointed, irritated, frustrated..." She saw him pause and realized she'd hit on the appropriate word.