“No biggie.” Malcolm covered the sinking sensation in his middle with a smile. “I can find enough in the cabinets to throw together for tonight, then deal with a shopping trip tomorrow.”
The corners of Stephen’s mouth twitched upward. “You boys take good care of your mom. I’m glad she’s got you in her life.”
“I’m glad you were here to help her out,” Malcolm replied. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy you guys can talk to each other again without yelling.”
“I guess we’ve both mellowed with age,” Stephen said, his smile growing wider. “Though, I’m still not allowed to talk about Genifer without getting the death glare.”
Malcolm laughed. “Sorry about that. Is everything okay with you and Gen? You seem…I don’t know, weird.”
“I spent several hours with my ex-wife in my ex-house, kid—I’m allowed to be weird.”
Stephen paused as Kim re-entered the kitchen and the next several minutes were spent on goodbyes and wishes for a speedy recovery. His expression had sobered by the time he and Malcolm were back outside by the cars, however.
“You asked if Gen and I are all right and the answer is sort of,” Stephen said, his deep voice quiet. “We’ve been talking about hiring a surrogate. A candidate and her wife are coming over tonight for dinner. We both know it’s the right thing to do, but Gen wanted to have a baby herself. She sees it as a failure on her part and there’s not a lot I can do to convince her otherwise.” He sighed. “Sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear your old man complain. Or deal with a baby brother or sister at your age.”
“Oh, shut up,” Malcolm said. “Of course, I want to hear it. Jack and I are down with more siblings, too.”
“Really?”
“Of course. We care about you and Gen, Dad, and we want you both to be happy.”
He drew Stephen into another hug, holding on more tightly this time and for longer, heartsore to know Genifer was struggling with something so many people took for granted. Petite and pixie-haired, Genifer was closer in age to Malcolm than her own husband, but the brothers liked her. She had a cheerful personality and an open heart to go along with her pretty face, and Malcolm knew she made his dad happy. He felt sad and helpless as he watched his father drive away, and his mother’s frown when he went back inside told him that his mood showed on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked from her seat at the kitchen table.
“Nothing.” Malcolm stooped and kissed her cheek. “Dad and Gen have stuff going on. But don’t fuss—they’re handling it.”
“Oh.” She turned her gaze on the door Malcolm had just come in. “Your father didn’t say anything to me about her this afternoon.”
“Dad knows the topic of Genifer is off limits where you’re concerned,” Malcolm said, keeping his tone light. “Are you good for right now? I want to take a look at the steps.”
“Yes, of course.” Kim waved him off. “Be careful out there, please. I hate to think that the rest of the porch is about to go.”
Malcolm hated that idea, too. The small sun porch was a simple screened-in space with a single-sloped roof, but his mother was fond of it and spent many evenings on it during the warmer months. Hiring someone to tear it down wouldn’t be cheap. Malcolm thought he and Jackson could manage on their own, if it came to that.
He’d just closed the door behind him when his phone chimed in his pocket, and Malcolm’s insides did a funny kind of swoop at the sight of Stuart’s name on the screen.
Hike tomorrow? Stuart had asked. I’m off and we can do the Rambles if you sneak out early.
Can’t—I’m at my Mom’s, Malcolm replied. She’s got a bum ankle and needs help.
He’d hardly tapped ‘Send’ when the phone rang in his hand. “Hey.”
“What happened?”
Awareness zigged up Malcolm’s spine at that deep voice in his ear and made him smile. He appreciated Stuart’s straight-to-the-point approach to everything. “She fell down the steps attached to a porch at the back of the house.”
“Is she okay?”
“She seems to be. Outside of the sprained ankle, she got a clean bill of health at the hospital and should be up and around in a few days.” He crossed the sun porch and opened the door leading outside, then frowned. What had been five steps was now three with a collection of broken bits of wood at their base. “Can’t say the same for the porch steps, though. They look totally trashed. Mom said her foot went through the wood without any effort, which is kind of strange given the rest of the porch seems sturdy enough.”
“Wait. Are you on the porch?”
Malcolm went still at Stuart’s sharp tone. “Yes. Why?”
“Get out of there right now,” Stuart said. “You have no idea if the rest of it is structurally sound. It may not be safe to stand on and you need to get your ass away from it ASAP.”
“Yeah, okay.” A warning tingle crawling through him, Malcolm headed back toward the door leading to the kitchen. “I’m going inside right now.”
“Good.” Stuart’s relief was audible. “I didn’t mean to bark at you, but—”
“No, you’re right. I don’t know if the rest of the porch is safe.” Malcolm paused in front of the closed door and sighed. “Damn. I should cordon it off until I can find someone qualified to give us an idea of how bad the damage is. Maybe the neighbors know someone local—”
“I’ll do it.”
For the second time in only minutes, Malcolm froze at Stuart’s words. “You’ll—wait, what? No, no, I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” Stuart sounded amused. “I’ll come out tomorrow morning after rush hour. I told you, I have the day off, and we both know I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”
Despite himself, Malcolm smiled. “Yeah, I know.” And he did. Stuart would be honest with him about the cost of repairs or a demo, too.
Malcolm let himself back in and glanced at Kim, still seated at the table and now immersed in a book. The idea of Stuart inside the white Colonial-style house was almost amusing, particularly here in the kitchen, which was filled with quaint little touches that were on the opposite end of the spectrum from tattoos, leather chaps and hipster aesthetics. Malcolm’s smile grew wider. Damn, his mom was going to have a cow. Still, Stuart had a background in carpentry, and knowing he was someone Malcolm could trust…
“Okay,” Malcolm said. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble, then yes. I really appreciate it, Stuart.”
“No problem. I’ll be there by ten or so.”
“Who is Stuart?” Kim asked once Malcolm had hung up.
The questions in her bright gaze made Malcolm’s head spin, as did the number of things he needed to do before Stuart set foot on Staten Island, like get his mother set up on the ground floor and fill the empty refrigerator, not to mention circling back to the CEC work he’d left unfinished. He’d already had to reschedule three different planning committee meetings today.
“Stuart’s a friend,” Malcolm said without hesitation, and friend felt right.
Stuart’s contradictions had drawn Malcolm in, what with the hot-and-cold behavior and reluctance to talk about his private life, despite the scowls and badass-biker vibe. Those moods had mellowed the more he and Malcolm worked together, though, and morphed into a rapport that was surprisingly easy.
Malcolm liked that Stuart appeared comfortable around him. Why else would he have invited Malcolm hiking? Or back to his tiny apartment, so spartan there’d been nowhere to sit but the bed? Stuart had shared a meal and a bottle of wine with Malcolm that night and talked a little about himself. He hadn’t once pressured Malcolm to return the favor. That, more than anything, had made Malcolm feel comfortable, too, and he’d looked forward to the text messages he and Stuart had exchanged since the hiking trip.
“And how did you meet?” his mom prompted.
“Working on the fundraiser, if you can believe it,” Malcolm said. “And as luck would have it, he also knows carpe
ntry. He offered to come out and take a look at the porch, then help us figure out what to do next.”
Kim’s face lit up. “Oh, great! Call him back and ask him to stay for dinner. We should place an order with Clark’s and have it delivered, by the way. I don’t even have enough to feed you right now.”
“I’ll do a grocery run tomorrow, Mom, and I can pull a meal together tonight.”
“Really?” Kim cast Malcolm a doubtful look as he moved toward the pantry. “It’d be a lot easier to order takeout, if you ask me.”
“Okay. I’d rather cook in, if that’s okay,” Malcolm called back with all the gentleness he could muster. Checking the canned goods, he actually smiled when he spied chickpeas. They would go well with the package of frozen spinach he’d bought on his last shopping trip. “I’m, um, trying to watch what I eat anyway, and cooking at home makes that a lot easier.”
“Oh, Malcolm, do not tell me you are on a diet. There’s not an ounce of fat on you!”
“That’s because I’m watching what I eat,” Malcolm lied. “Besides, I’m not dieting—I’m eating clean.” He aimed a smile his mother’s way. “Wait until you try the tapas I’ve got planned.”
Chapter Six
Stuart debated between the two tools in his hands before deciding to pack both. Who knows? Might need them. He slipped them into his canvas tool bag, grasped the leather handles and stood. He made a mental inventory of everything he might need to assess and maybe repair Malcolm’s mom’s porch, then nodded to himself. Yep, that should do it.
After securing the storage locker where he stored his own personal tools, he walked toward the entrance to the woodshop.
Unlike a lot of workshop spaces in the five boroughs, The Co-Op Shop wasn’t owned by an outside company. Instead, all the members had a stake in it. Being a member gave Stuart access to a full woodshop and tools, plus the use of a truck. Yesterday, he’d called the minute he got off the phone with Malcolm, but thankfully, no one else had already claimed it for today. The co-op had recently purchased a second truck, so Stuart was comfortable taking it out of town.
Earl, one of the workshop’s coordinators, wordlessly slid a sheet of paper toward him. He was a grizzled old guy whom Stuart respected the hell out of. He had decades of experience and skills Stuart could only dream of. Earl, in turn, seemed to respect Stuart’s knowledge. It had taken no time at all for Stuart to pass the workshop certification required to be a member and Earl had joked that Stuart might even be able to teach him a thing or two.
“Where are you headed?” Earl asked. He had the kind of gravelly voice that made Stuart wonder if he’d been a heavy smoker.
Stuart looked up from the sign-out sheet. “Staten Island. A friend’s mom needs some help with a construction job. She fell through the steps yesterday.”
“Must be more than a friend if you’re driving way the hell out to Staten Island,” Earl said with a snort as he handed over the truck keys. Stuart just laughed and thanked him.
Stuart walked to the truck he’d already loaded with the bigger tools he might need. Is Malcolm more than a friend? he wondered.
The phone call from Malcolm yesterday had worried the hell out of Stuart. When he found out Malcolm had been standing on a potentially rickety sun porch with no concern for his safety… Stuart shook his head. He’d had visions of the porch collapsing on Malcolm and crushing him beneath the roof’s weight.
Stuart knew he’d surprised Malcolm by offering to take a look at his mother’s sun porch. Frankly, he’d surprised himself. But he felt protective of Malcolm in a way he couldn’t remember feeling with anyone before. Not with his ex-wife or with anyone he’d dated before. And he wasn’t even dating Malcolm. He didn’t think. He was still fuzzy on that one.
Stuart was no closer to knowing that answer than he had been when they first met.
He felt strangely okay with that.
* * * *
Stuart pulled into the driveway of 250 Roswell Avenue and parked behind a shiny black Tesla. Damn. He wondered who that belonged to. It was a nice piece of machinery and no doubt cost a pretty penny. Malcolm used public transit and his mom’s house wasn’t particularly luxurious.
I’m here. Stuart sent a quick text to Malcolm before he hopped out of the truck. He looked the house over as he walked up the sidewalk. It was just as Malcolm had described. A small Colonial with a light blue front door.
From the front, the house looked solid enough. The roof appeared to be in good shape, and he didn’t see any obvious issues with the foundation at a quick glance. The shingles could use a good power washing and there was paint peeling from the front door and the columns on the small portico over the front steps. Thankfully, that appeared to be the worst of it and the steps were concrete. He’d give the columns a closer inspection before he left for the day, though. No point in fixing the sun porch on the back if dry rot made the front collapse on top of Malcolm or his mom.
Before Stuart’s booted foot hit the front step, the door opened. Malcolm looked tired and stressed, but his face brightened. “Hey, thanks for coming out. How was traffic?”
“Not too bad. I got hung up on the bridge for a bit. Other than that, it was fine.”
“Malcolm! Don’t keep your friend waiting out on the steps. Let him in.” A small blonde with a bright smile peeked her head around Malcolm’s arm.
Malcolm stepped back and Stuart followed him inside the house.
“Mom, this is my friend, Stuart Morgan. Stuart, my mom, Kim Elliott.”
Kim’s gaze traveled up Stuart’s arms, her eyes wide at the sight of the tattoos under his rolled-up sleeves. He’d left off the leather jacket this morning in favor of a plaid shirt, but he probably looked a bit different from what she’d expected.
“I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Elliott. I was sorry to hear about your accident.” He kept his voice soft, and he offered her a smile. Marisol had once commented that rather than resting bitch face, he had resting pissed-off face, which worked in concert with the tattoos and stern expression to keep people away. While Stuart liked that most of the time, they sometimes gave the wrong impression to people he didn’t want to scare off and he tried to be mindful of that.
“Oh, I’m doing all right now.” Kim’s wary expression lightened. “It wasn’t too serious of an accident and I’ll be back to normal soon enough. It was very nice of you to come out all this way to take a look at the steps, Stuart. Would you like some coffee before you get started?”
“That would be nice.”
A short while later, Stuart sat at a banquette in the small eat-in kitchen across from Malcolm and his mother as they sipped their coffee. The house was on the small side and slightly dated, but it was clean, well laid out and homey. He approved of the gas stove across the room, too, because he couldn’t stand electric.
Kim chatted away, talking about Malcolm’s childhood, and her obvious affection for him made Stuart smile. Predictably, Malcolm looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, and after Stuart drained his cup, he took pity on his friend and changed the subject.
“Thank you for the coffee, ma’am. I’ll go ahead and take a look at the porch now.”
“Of course,” Kim said. She reached for the crutches. Before she could grab them, Malcolm had handed them to her. “Please, call me Kim.”
Stuart nodded. She turned toward the back door and Stuart was on his feet in an instant. “Not that way. We should go out through the front.”
Malcolm immediately nodded. “We can’t go out there until Stuart makes sure it’s safe, Mom.”
“Oh, right, yes—you told me that.” Kim let out a little laugh. “How silly of me. I’m glad I have you around, Malcolm. And that you have Stuart.” She smiled at him now. “You’d make someone a good husband. You aren’t married already, are you? Or have a girlfriend or boyfriend at home?”
Stuart raised an eyebrow. Clearly, she’d gotten over the first impression she’d had of him.
“No, I live alone. I am gay, however.”<
br />
“That’s a shame you haven’t found anyone.” She gave Malcolm a pointed look. “I keep telling my son he should get out and date more but he’s always working and taking care of me.”
Malcolm opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then closed it again.
“Well, let’s see if we can’t get these stairs fixed so you don’t take any more tumbles,” Stuart said. “That way Malcolm worries less.”
Half an hour later, Stuart crawled out from under the sun porch and stood, then brushed the dirt off his clothes.
“Well, I think you’re in luck. The porch seems solid and there are no signs of termites or dry rot. I’d like to add more support in the center… Whoever built it originally skimped a bit so your floor is beginning to sag. Some bracing should do the trick. I can also build a new set of steps for you.”
Kim, who had been sitting in a lawn chair watching him work, clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful news, isn’t it, Malcolm?”
Malcolm, who had been standing nearby with a worried frown on his face, let out a relieved-sounding sigh. “It is.”
“I’ll have to make a run to the home improvement store for some boards and hardware, but I have all the tools with me that I’ll need. Would you like me to do the work today?”
Malcolm stepped forward, the crease over his eyebrows returning. “How much is that going to run? The materials and labor, I mean.”
Stuart smiled at him. “Well, labor’s free. Keep me company while I work and we’ll be even. The materials? Couple hundred, tops.”
Malcolm’s jaw tightened before he nodded. “Okay.”
“You’re always worrying about money, Malcolm,” Kim said, her voice light.
Malcolm, who was still facing Stuart, had a look in his eyes that made Stuart want to reach out and pull him into a hard hug. Something was clearly stressing him out and Stuart remembered the conversation they’d had about Malcolm’s budget being tight.
If Stuart had to lay bets, he’d guess it had to do with Kim Elliott, though he wasn’t sure what exactly.
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