“Please wait, Jeremiah.”
He sighed and stood with one foot in the truck while she scurried the rest of the way. “I really do need to go. I can probably get that quote together for you tonight so you have it when you start figuring out your production schedule.”
“It’s not like that. I don’t know why he’s here. I’m not flipping this house.” She rested her fingers on his hand. “Please believe me.”
He held her gaze, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “I want to. But it’s a little hard to ignore this. And him.” Jeremiah jerked his head toward Paul who was headed their way, his hundred watt smile still on full. “I’ll get you that quote. Let me know if you decide to go that route.”
Chapter 7
Deidre’s shoulders fell as Jeremiah drove off. She spun and drilled her finger into Paul’s chest. “Why are you here?”
Paul stepped back, his smile dimming. “Come on, babe.”
“Don’t call me that.” She hissed through her teeth and shook her head. “You know what? I don’t care why you’re here. Get off my property.”
Paul leaned against his van. “There’s no way you bought this place. Just tell me who the client is. You and I both know they’re not going to turn me down. And a place like this? It could really help my ratings.”
“I care about your ratings why?” She waited a beat. “Oh, that’s right. I don’t. Get off my property before I call the cops.”
He fell into step beside her as she went up the front steps. He’d always been persistent. Why had she ever found it charming? On the top step, she paused and turned around. “You can go down to the county record office and verify it for yourself, but I own this house. And I’m just not interested in having your pathetic show associated with it. I want to renovate in a way that honors the history of this building, with good quality workmanship. Not the slap dash work your new crew does, which, if you recall, is why I left the show in the first place.”
“And as part of leaving, you agreed not to flip houses.” Paul nodded to the front door. “So why don’t you let me in and we’ll discuss what we’re going to do.”
“No chance. I’m not flipping this house. I live here. And I plan to continue to do that.” The sureness of that statement struck her. This was home now. She hadn’t been fully committed before, but now? It was right. What did that mean for D-Constructs?
“Please. You’re not going to stay out here in the boondocks. The nearest real town is what, a thirty, forty-minute drive? With the highlight of having two popular chain restaurants? You know you’re going to miss D.C. So cut the charade, and let’s get down to business.” He reached for the door.
Deidre slapped a hand on his chest. “I’m not sure what’s so hard for you to understand about the word no, but I’m going to say it one more time. No. If you’re still here in thirty seconds, I’m calling the cops. Twenty-nine.”
She continued to count as he held her gaze. When she hit fifteen and took her phone out of her pocket he shook his head and started down the steps toward the van.
“You’ll be hearing from the show’s lawyer.”
Let them call. She hadn’t violated any of their agreements, which was one of the reasons she’d had the time to look around for a house like this. The way the final agreement was phrased, it hadn’t been clear that D-Constructs could be hired by folks flipping a house, so Deidre had erred on the side of caution. It had cost her three crews. Business was still fine. There was more than enough work, even without flipping, but flipping had the potential for big money and they’d had a good reputation.
Until Paul had gotten a hold of it.
“How did he even know where I was?” Deidre paced across the foyer, cell phone clamped to her ear. She studied the molding around the ceiling. That would need some touch up. Shouldn’t be too hard, but was it wood or plaster? “You still there?”
Lisette cleared her throat. “I, uh, might have mentioned it.”
“What? Why would you do that? Why were you even talking to him?” Little spots danced in front of her eyes and Deidre took a deep breath before reminding herself that there was no point in yelling.
“He misses you. He never wanted things to end the way they did. I just think you’re too hard on him.”
Deidre stopped and sat on the bottom stair, her stomach tightening into a knot. “You’ve been talking to him all along. For the last year.”
The silence on the line said it all.
“Look. We were friends, too. It’s not fair for you to expect everyone who was friends with Paul, or involved in the show, to walk away just because you did.”
Deidre pulled her hair back into a ponytail and wrapped the hair band she kept on her wrist around it, pretending the hair was her so-called-friend’s neck. “You’re designing for him.”
“We’re talking about it. It’s been a year. And at the end of the day, I could use the boost it gave to my business.” Lisette blew out a breath. “I’m sorry you found out this way. I’d planned to say something.”
“Oh, sure. Since it’s only been twelve months. I can see how you simply haven’t had time.” Deidre glared across the foyer and ground her teeth together.
“I haven’t had the words. I knew you’d react this way.”
“You think? My best friend is still friends and—apparently—business partners with the man who broke my heart and damaged my business, and I’m supposed to be okay with it? You know what? Just take Peacock Hill off your priority list. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I can figure out paint colors and furniture on my own. And when Paul screws you over, don’t come crying to me.” Deidre hit end on her phone and lowered her head to her knees.
If God really cared about her, He had a weird way of showing it.
Chapter 8
Danny tossed Jeremiah a soda. “You’re still heading to church tonight, right?”
He popped the top and took a long drink. “Yeah. I just need to send this quote off to Ms. McIntyre and then I’ll be ready. You grabbing a ride with me?”
“If you don’t mind. Then you could drop me at the garage? Matt thought he should be done with my car by then.” Danny flipped a chair around and straddled it. “What happened?”
Jeremiah tossed a look at his friend and turned back to his computer. “What do you mean?”
“Weren’t you calling her Denise on Sunday?”
“Deidre.” He sighed, rubbed his neck, and hit save.
“Denise. Deidre. Whatever. It starts with a D. I repeat the question: what happened?”
Jeremiah shifted to look at his friend. “I’m not exactly sure. When I dropped her off after lunch at Mom and Dad’s, Paul Rossi was there.”
“From the house show?” Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “Nice. Are they going to do Peacock Hill? That’d be cool.”
“Sounded like that’s what he wanted. But she wasn’t having any of it. And…it was pretty clear there was a history there.” And he couldn’t compete with that.
“History? But not current events?”
Jeremiah shrugged. Sure, it hadn’t looked like she was excited to see Paul. She certainly hadn’t thrown herself into his arms. But how much of that was because Jeremiah was there? No way to know.
“So…what? You just skulked off with your tail between your legs?” Danny shook his head. “Dude. You’ve got to get over Elise.”
“I have. I just don’t see the point in signing up for Elise, part two. Seriously, man, you’ve watched the show. What exactly do I have that Paul Rossi doesn’t?”
“From what I saw on Sunday? Deidre.”
Danny’s words echoed in his head all through youth group. Thankfully he wasn’t in charge of anything spiritually important this week. He’d ended the night by giving his group of boys their assignment for the week, slapping a ton of high fives, and chatting briefly with one overly concerned mom who didn’t seem to get the fact that boys—especially high school boys—were going to clam up every now and then. And that was okay. It didn’t mean th
ey didn’t love their mom, or that they were doing drugs, or anything bad. It just meant the kid was processing something and chances were good, that if she left him alone for a little, he’d come to her eventually. At least, that’s how it’d always worked for him.
Maybe his mom was just really cool.
“Ready?” Danny lounged against the side of Jeremiah’s car.
“Yeah. You figure Matt’s still there? We’re about twenty minutes later than usual. Sorry.”
“Yep. Just texted him to be sure. He’s doing some paperwork while he waits.” After Jeremiah clicked the fob to unlock the doors, Danny tugged open the door of the truck and hopped in. “Appreciate the ride.”
“Easy enough.” Jeremiah started the truck and backed out of the now-empty lot. “What are you doing this weekend? Any plans?”
Danny shook his head. “Why?”
“Thought I might go camping. Wanna come?”
“Don’t you have work you should be doing?”
Jeremiah frowned. The only potential work he had in the hopper was up at Peacock Hill. The other odds and ends that kept him afloat were during the work week. And sure, now that spring was hitting, he’d be getting a lot busier. People liked to spruce up their houses once the snow was gone; power wash the decks, that sort of thing. But he wasn’t reduced to working weekends just yet. “Nope. So, are you in?”
“You need to call her.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s ridiculous to go camping when you could be working up at Peacock Hill and making headway with the most eligible bachelorette to hit our town since Missy James moved here in the seventh grade.”
Jeremiah laughed. Missy James. Now there was a memory. “I’d forgotten all about her. She was here what, three years?”
“About that, yeah. And had every guy in the class—and most of the guys in the classes above and below—trying to catch her eye. Then it comes out that she’s not allowed to date ‘til she’s a senior.”
“So Matt says. Did anyone other than him verify that with her? I still think it was Matt saving face after she shot him down.”
It was Danny’s turn to chuckle. “I dare you to say that to his face.”
“No way. I’m not stupid. He can still take me.” Jeremiah pulled to a stop in front of Matt’s garage. “Here you go, curbside service with a smile.”
“I missed the smile, but then, I avoid looking at you whenever I can. Never have been into horror.”
“Jerk. Get out of my truck.” Jeremiah grinned and punched Danny on the arm. “So that’s a no for this weekend, right?”
Danny paused with his hand on the truck door. “Tell you what, you call and actually talk to her, and, if you’re not otherwise engaged after that, then yeah, sure. I’ll go camping. But I’m inviting Matt, too, so the two of us can gang up on you until you’re done moping about Elise.”
“I’m not moping.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. So, deal?” Danny cocked his head to the side.
Jeremiah frowned. “Fine. But only because I hate camping alone.”
Jeremiah started the dishwasher and swiped a sponge over the counter. Clean enough. He checked the time on the microwave and frowned. Still only nine. Which meant he could call. Probably. Maybe he’d text. It was basically the same thing. And then if she was asleep, it was less likely to wake her.
He thumbed open a new message.
“Hey. U get my proposal?”
There. He’d made contact. He could let Danny know to pick up marshmallows when he packed for the camping trip. Carrying his phone with him on the off chance she got back to him, he flopped into his recliner and clicked on the TV. His phone buzzed with a new message.
“Yes. Imhotep to have a starting date for U by frier.”
Jeremiah frowned at the text message, trying to decipher it.
“So it looked good?”
He waited. After a minute, his phone rang.
“This is ridiculous. Please, if we’re any kind of friends, don’t make me text. I’m not sure why my phone has Egyptian Pharaohs in the autocorrect. Nor do I understand why it would think I meant that instead of ‘I’m hoping’ squished together because I didn’t hit the space hard enough.”
“Are we any kind of friends?” Jeremiah winced, mentally pulled the words back into his mouth, and swallowed them. “Never mind. Back to the proposal.”
“No. It’s okay. I—yes. I’m hoping we are. I’d like us to be.”
“Okay.” He cleared his throat. Better to let it go at that than to get into everything else. “So the proposal looked good?”
“It did. Thanks. Are you sure we’re good?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
Deidre sighed. “Because Paul is a jerk and probably gave you the very wrong idea when he came—uninvited, I’m going to add—on Sunday.”
“It’s not really my place…”
“Oh, please. I’m not an idiot. You think I didn’t notice that you disappeared?”
Jeremiah sighed. “It’s fine. It’s none of my business. I just wanted to give you space. It seemed like you and Paul had some stuff to sort out.”
She groaned. “No. We didn’t. Look. That show—Paul’s show? It was supposed to be mine. Or his and mine. And then, next thing I knew, it was his show and I was in the background doing all the work. After that, they were hiring cheaper workers and I was out and contractually barred from flipping houses, because they don’t want anyone to know that Paul’s incapable of hammering a nail in straight, let alone any of the more complex work they do on the show.”
“Seriously?” It was hard to believe. Paul was in every scene, getting things started off.
“Yep. Those shots of him demo-ing a wall or installing a cabinet? They’re set up beforehand, meticulously, so all he has to do is hit a pencil mark with the sledge hammer or finish tightening down a screw the last two turns. And even then, it usually takes three or more tries. He thinks I’m flipping Peacock Hill. I’m not. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I have ideas—that I’m staying. I just can’t seem to get anyone to take me seriously.”
The sincerity in her voice rang true. On all of it. But one question still niggled at the back of his mind. He might hate himself later, but he had to ask. “This is probably none of my business…but were you and Paul together?”
“You’re right. It isn’t. But yeah, we were. Right up until I realized that he only wanted to be with me because I was good at home repair. So I ended things. And he wasn’t willing to keep working with me. Since his was the face of the show, it was pretty clear who had to go. But that’s how I ended up with the money to buy this place. And, given how steadily D-Construct’s business has been falling off since then? Having the means to start fresh is a blessing.”
“God’s got a way of cushioning our falls, doesn’t He?” Jeremiah smiled. “We still on for church Sunday?”
“Yeah. If you’re sure.”
“I am. Any plans on Saturday?”
“Not really.”
“Want some?” His heart hammered in his chest. Was he really asking her out? Even if it meant competing with Paul Rossi?
“You know what? I really do.”
Chapter 9
Deidre tugged open the door and blinked. “Claire? What are you doing here?”
“I can’t do it anymore, D. I’m sorry. I figured I should tell you in person. Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Deidre stepped back and let her sister in. “Do you have a suitcase in the car? I can go grab it.”
“I’ll get it later.” Claire dragged a hand through her hair as she surveyed the house. “This is gorgeous. No wonder you snapped it up.”
“I knew you’d love it if you saw it.” She rubbed her sister’s arm. “I’m glad you came down. Now, tell me what you meant. What can’t you do anymore?”
“Is there somewhere we can sit?”
She didn’t have much in the way of furniture yet. The room she was using for sleeping and as an office was…spartan
. “I have some stools in the kitchen.”
Deidre crossed the wide foyer and pushed open the door that led to the kitchen. The room had been updated in the late fifties—probably moved from the basement level where it was originally situated. At least they’d stuck to a black and white color scheme instead of making it all pink or teal. The appliances themselves were in decent enough shape that she was going to try and keep them. It added a little something to the space. She’d stuck a small, pub-height table in one corner.
“This is nice. More modern than the rest but, in this case, that’s a bonus. It’s functional?” Claire ran her hand over the stove as she passed it.
Deidre nodded. “You want a drink? I have some sodas in the fridge, or I can make tea?”
“I’ll grab a soda. Want one?”
“Sure.” She hopped onto a stool and propped her elbows on the table. “What’s going on?”
Claire popped the tab on her soda and set the other can in front of Deidre. “We lost two more crews today. We’re basically down to the guys who subbed for Dad when he was running things. The restrictions on what kinds of jobs we’re allowed to do, courtesy of the legal vultures from that stupid show, make it hard for the guys to get enough work. If they’re officially on our payroll, then the restrictions apply to their freelance jobs as well. I don’t know what we should do, but I can’t make all the decisions on my own.”
“I never expected you to.” Deidre laid her hand on her sister’s. “I’m sorry you thought I did. Maybe…this is God’s way of saying it’s time to close down.”
Her sister raised her eyebrows. “There are two things in that statement that leave me speechless.”
“All evidence to the contrary.”
“You’re a riot. But seriously. Are you talking to God again? ‘Cause that would be an answer to my own prayers.”
Deidre sighed. “I’m not sure I ever stopped. Not completely. I just…why does He let people like Paul prosper when those of us who do the right thing have to flounder around? Don’t answer. I don’t think there is an answer, not really.”
Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After Page 34