by Ginny Frost
Earl erupted from his chair. “Bullshit. He walked out on me. He left it unfinished.”
Margaret and Ryan ignored Earl’s protests. Ryan casually turned pages of the report in her hands. She kept her gaze on Ryan as a sheen of sweat broke out on her skin. “Earl fired the Kramers?” she asked.
“Yes.” Ryan flipped pages. “Here is the notarized termination of contract. The dated photos were taken when Kramer and Sons Contracting left the job. I have statements from all three Kramers involved—David, Ted, and Brett, regarding the date of the termination of the contract and the status of the installation on that date.”
Ryan’s formality in presenting the information caused Margaret’s stomach to flip-flop. It didn’t feel right. She didn’t know the man well by any means. And Earl attended school with him. There’d been rumors around town for years about why Ryan didn’t work at Kramer and Sons—too good for it. He’d run off to Albany, to the big city, and left his family behind. Did he want to make up for lost time? Reconnect with his family at her expense?
She stared up at Ryan, processing only half of what he said.
Earl apparently grew tired of being ignored. He stepped in between Ryan and Margaret. “It’s your goddamn family. ’Course they’re gonna say what you want them to say.”
She almost choked at her thoughts coming from her ex’s mouth.
“Mr. Porter.” Ryan stood to his full height. “I was not employed by Kramer and Sons, nor living in Stonewater when you terminated the contract. Mr. David Kramer kept meticulous notes on the incident. You can examine them yourself for their authenticity.” He took a step closer to Earl. “I think you’ll find everything is genuine.”
Pulling in a deep breath, Margaret snapped herself out of the fog Ryan’s words created. “Mr. Kramer, are you saying Earl is at fault for the fire?”
Ryan looked at her. His eyes seemed full of an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on—sadness, fear, relief? “I’m saying, Ms. Porter, Kramer and Sons is not responsible for the damage.” He glanced at Earl, then back at her. “Who finished the work on the walls and electrical?”
Margaret slowly turned to her ex.
Earl came up with the bright idea to make over the living room. He’d promised her a posh space for her book club and such nonsense. In the end, the room morphed into a man cave. She’d ignored most of the process, happy to have Earl out of her hair. But firing the Kramers… Who had completed the project? Because Earl didn’t have a handy bone in his body.
“Your dad dropped the ball on the project. What could I do? Let the walls sit there open? Let my boy touch those wires?” Earl crossed his arms. “Nah, your family’s gonna pay for the fire. I’ll tell you what.” He headed toward the door.
Ryan shot out an arm to stop his exit. “Mr. Porter, understand all the information will be in the official report I give to the insurance company.” Ryan raised his chin, authority pouring from him.
Earl scoffed as Margaret expected. “You go right ahead. I’ll sue their ass and yours too, pencil pusher.” He moved to shove Ryan but seemed to think better of it. Perhaps he remembered how easily Ryan had dodged his fists at the Inn. “Whatever,” Earl finished, his usual last statement when he knew he’d lost the argument.
Ryan closed the door behind him. He spoke again, in quiet tones, but Margaret’s brain refused to engage. Earl was at fault for the fire? He was the one who finished the remodel, wired the outlets, and installed the unvented fireplace. He sealed up the walls with the unfinished electrical work and left it. The wall next to the new lights definitely had looked lumpy.
She’d never questioned it. She’d allowed Earl to do as he pleased while she worked. The new room... Deep down, she knew it’d be a disaster. But it gave her time to decide what to do about their failing marriage.
He worked on it for three months. She didn’t remember when the Kramers stopped coming. She glanced down at the report. The date stood out in bold black and white. December, weeks before he presented the remodel to her with the fucking TV. The leather recliners and mini fridge didn’t help matters. But the giant TV she’d already told him was beyond her kindergarten teacher’s budget hung on the wall. And with the Christmas bills rolling in… She’d tossed him out that morning, screaming and swearing for him to take the TV before she smashed it.
And he left.
His friends arrived the next day, taking apart the mancave and half the bedroom. In a flash, Earl was gone. She served him the divorce papers she’d already drawn up. Not wanting to spoil the holidays, but also not wanting to wait another second.
Now, in the office of the man she’d just slept with, another monkey wrench found its way into her gears. Earl caused the fire, and he had no money. Hell, child support payments hardly ever arrived. There was little hope he’d buy anything for the kids for Christmas. Her insurance would have to cover the water, smoke, and fire damage, then pay for new electrical and the removal of the damned fireplace. And now they might not pay. Not if Earl was liable. He lived there at the time. It was still his house last December.
Tears burned in her eyes as her brain finally tuned in on Ryan’s words. He talked on as if his words hadn’t been devastating. “I’ll talk to the guy personally. I’m sure he’ll be able to recommend some action where…”
In the pit of her stomach, a fire erupted. With the most calm she could muster, Margaret rose from her seat.
Here was the man who conveniently shared all that information with Earl, invited him to the meeting, showed him the report. Ryan had no right.
She pushed the report back at Ryan. “What you’re telling me is that with two weeks ’til Christmas, my ex-husband is responsible for the fire that caused the gaping hole in my house. And my insurance won’t cover the cost of the damage. Is that what you’re saying?” She raised her gaze to his, disappointment filling her heart.
He’d said all this to Earl, not met with her separately or first. He protected his family at the cost of hers.
It dawned on her that she’d made a terrible error in judgment once again. Fell into bed with the wrong man at the wrong time. At least this time, there wouldn’t be a little Jill along in nine months.
Ryan’s mouth dropped open, but no words came out. He blinked at her, as if amazed she understood his position.
“Oh, and your family gets off free and clear.” She pressed her hand against his chest, not quite a shove. “You’re still shiny and perfect with your cushy new job after you skittered home from Albany.” She pushed harder. “And I’m left with a bigger mess than before because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.” She put her full weight into her palms, shoving him backward toward the desk.
But she’d been the one pushing for sex…
Loathing, regret, and chagrin raced through her. The parade of emotions said one thing: she was stupid.
After everything she’d been through with Earl, was any man worth a hill of beans? She’d never found one who’d stand by his word, work hard, and be a good person. How could she have ever thought Ryan was different?
“It’s not like that. You have no idea the hell I went through in Albany, the corruption, the pressure to take bribes and kickbacks. That’s why I have to report the truth. Yes, it vindicates my dad, but I’m not trying to vilify your ex. What’s important is to repair the damage…” He reached out for her, but she stepped back from him.
“Damage? What do you know about damage? You’ve met my kids. You saw the fire. No Christmas. No money for presents, and who the hell am I going to hire to fix the wall? Your father?”
She threw her head back and laughed long and hard. The outburst helped streamline her emotions into one long fuse of anger. “You’ve no idea what you’ve done. You don’t know the real damage you’ve caused. Thanks so fucking much, Mr. Kramer.” She spun to leave as his hand landed on her shoulder.
“Daisy…”
She shoved him away, unable to face him. Her emotions switched gears again, her anger bubbling over into tears a
nd shame. “Don’t you call me that. Don’t you dare.” She launched out the door, ignoring his pleas to come back.
Chapter Ten
How had he not seen this outcome? Ryan sank into his desk chair, his head in his hands. Of course, Daisy would have to pay for it. His brain must have equated responsibility with a male, not the head of household. Which meant her, not Earl.
It sounded like the man didn’t pay for anything, not even child support. She’d never be able to make him help with the damage to the house—not without a serious legal battle. Kramer and Sons didn’t fail, but the actual proof that Earl finished the project himself didn’t exist. He and his buddies might have done it. And if they remained the same guys from high school, they’d never rat each other out.
Now Margaret would be forced to pay for thousands of dollars in repairs for something her moron of an ex-husband had done.
Ryan shook his head. How could he have been so thick? He should’ve talked to her first, found a way to pin the blame on the right person, and make him pay. There was no win here. If his dad’s company had been responsible, he’d be up the same creek. A lawsuit and the association with a fire during the holidays might bury Kramer and Sons permanently.
Sighing, he straightened. He wanted to do something, without it appearing to be favoritism or a payoff. Being the building inspector had to have some power in this little town. He’d had enough drama and corruption in Albany and didn’t want to soil things in Stonewater.
Resigning might be the best option, but it solved nothing. The next inspector would find the same things. Either Earl or Dad was at fault. And all evidence pointed to Earl, every bit of it circumstantial.
A knock sounded at his door and Ted pushed inside. He stood tall, highlighting his high school football physique. “There you are.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. Where else would he be?
Ted continued, “You better settle the fire crap right now, little bro. I don’t care if you’re banging that chick or not. We ain’t gonna take the fall.”
Dad skirted in behind Ted, a smirk on his lips. He said nothing as he plopped into the chair. He stretched his legs out, crossed at the ankle. With a beer in his hand, he’d be ready to watch a game. Perhaps he was. Their gazes met for a brief second before Ted stormed over them again.
“Dad said he gave you the Porter file, and you took it. What the fuck? Ever heard of a copy machine?” Ted paced the room, his arms flapping. The words drama queen in Jill Porter’s voice rang in his head. He stifled a grin. Dad caught the expression and smiled himself.
Ryan picked up Dad’s file from his desk. “Here you are,” he said, not falling into Ted’s usual game.
Ted grabbed the paperwork, huffing, and flipped through it. “How do I know you didn’t mess with this to clear your little girlfriend?” He poked Ryan with the folder.
Ryan rolled his chair back an inch or two, out of Ted’s reach.
“It’s all in there. Dad can verify.” He put his elbows on the arms of the chair, tenting his fingers over his lap, the epitome of calm and collected.
Ted tossed the file at Dad who caught it deftly as his brother raged on, “We got canned from the job, but you better not go around telling everyone. We got a reputation to uphold. No thanks to you. You should be on this side of the desk with us.”
Dad held up a hand and Ted wound down some. “It’s all here, Ted. The information about the cancellation of the contract, notarized and legal.” He snapped the folder shut. “I assume you got a copy, son?” He pointed the folder at Ryan, who nodded. “Then we’re done here.” He stood and faced Ted.
“Ryan ain’t answered a damn thing, Dad. We’re not leaving until he tells us we’re in the clear.”
Dad tilted his head back toward Ryan. “We clear?”
“Yep.” Ryan loved his dad’s way of dealing with Ted, though he wished the man would put him in his place. As far as Ryan could tell, Ted did nothing to run the company. He was merely a strong back for the work.
Dad nodded sharply at Ryan’s answer. “Let’s go.” He waved the file at Ted, trying to brush him out the door.
“That’s it? No paper to sign, no proof of promise? No nothing? Just Ryan’s word? Jesus, Dad. I’m tired of busting my ass for this business to let desk jockeys like him tell me what to do.”
Apparently, David Kramer hit the breaking point. He snapped the edge of the folder under Ted’s chin as if he were a child. “Enough of that bullshit. If I remember correctly, you, Earl, and your other brother sat around drinking during most of the job. When you and Earl fell into a pissing match over some damn football game a hundred years ago, he fired us. Fired us, because you couldn’t let that lazy asshole be right. Then he gave us the bum’s rush without letting me finish up the electrical, or at least cap off the wires. Nope. Both you and Earl wanted me and Brett out of there in a flash.”
Ryan stood from his chair, moving closer to the two men. His father had never made a speech that long in his thirty-plus years. The red color climbing up Dad’s neck didn’t look like a healthy glow. Ryan prepped for action before things came to blows.
Ted’s chest puffed up more and more as Dad went on. At this rate, they’d need a riot squad and two ambulances. Ryan sidestepped between them.
“Now, everyone take a breath.” He glanced at Dad’s bright red neck and Ted’s inflated chest. “The Porter fire was not the fault of Kramer and Sons. I’m sure the insurance inspector will agree with my report. I already spoke with him after the fire.”
His words fell on deaf ears. Dad crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed. “You know why we have a crappy rep in town? Not because of me. I’m a great carpenter and electrician, but as a contractor, you suck. Your brother ain’t so bad, but you can’t get your head out of your ass long enough to focus on the whole job. You’re always distracted, trying to be in charge. Me and Brett are always cleaning up your mess. Hell, Ryan’s better at it than you, and he ain’t done half the training.”
“Whatchu saying, Dad?” Ted almost sounded teary. “You saying I’m not good enough to work in your precious company? That I’m the whole problem why business is slow?”
Dad crossed his arms over his chest again. “Yep.”
“You son of a…” Ted lunged at Dad and Ryan caught him before he did any damage. He grabbed his brother’s fist, as he had with Earl a few days earlier. He twisted Ted’s arm until he forced the man to face the door. Ryan pulled up on his brother’s wrist, his other hand gripping the elbow.
“You remember this move, don’t ya, Ted? I do. I wore a sling that whole summer.” He kept his voice low and dangerous. Something Ted understood. “We will walk to the door with me holding your arm. You will leave the building, go home, and take a few days off of work. When you cool down, you can talk to Dad again, but only if I’m there. I won’t allow you to hit Dad. And if I hear of you sneaking back over to Kramer and Sons before we talk, I’ll get a restraining order.”
They duck-walked to the door and Ryan released Ted's arm. Ted swung around, snorting through his nose like a bull. Ryan didn’t flinch a millimeter. “You pencil necks…”
“Know about assault laws and have good lawyers,” Ryan finished for him. “Go home. Think about it. You don’t have to work for Dad. If construction isn’t your thing…”
Ted huffed at him, turning back to go out the door. “What do you know?” He stomped away like a spoiled child. Maybe someone should have said it to his brother years ago.
He turned to his dad, ready to apologize for his brother again. Instead, he found his father next to him. The two watched Ted swagger down the hallway and out the front door. Dad sucked his teeth. “I’m gonna retire, son. Give you the business. You game?” Typical Dad, no fluff or buildup. Just the plain truth.
“Let me think about it, Dad.”
“Fair enough.”
Chapter Eleven
At a table in the parlor, Margaret adjusted the piles of paperwork before her. She wanted to be ready when Earl arrived.
The lawyer’s office might have been better. But the conversation with Earl needed to stay between the two of them. Having the meeting at the Inn ensured some safety for her, but the parlor only provided a hint of privacy.
And Earl, up in her room? No way.
She tapped her fitness tracker to check the time. Late, as always. The pay-per-view premium movie she rented for the kids (PG-13, Mommy, without you? Yes!) only lasted ninety minutes. Tardiness was the least of Earl’s problems. She’d have to highlight a few bigger issues tonight, and she wasn’t looking forward to it, not one bit.
The booming sound of the door slamming alerted her of his arrival. Who else would slam the door of a hundred-year-old inn? Sighing, she stood and moved to the doorway, hoping to cut him off before he roamed the halls.
“Margaret, where are ya?”
She waved from the doorframe, then crossed her arms over her chest.
He snorted, chest puffed out, hands on hips. “You enjoying spending my money on this place?” His sneer deepened.
She pressed her lips tight, not wanting to be drawn into an argument. “Follow me.” Her teacher voice sounded in full form and not the nice kindergarten one. She spun on her heel and stalked back to the parlor.
“Whatever,” he grumbled.
She glared over her shoulder, and he shut up. Again, she wondered what possessed her to marry him. She always fell for the sweet talk, the promises, and Earl was full of them. He’d delivered part of the promise, two kids, a nice house in a small town. Too bad he’d burned it down.
Her anger piquing, she slammed into her chair with a huff. Earl raised an eyebrow, sliding serenely into his chair. Another problem in their marriage, the angrier she was, the calmer, more flip he became. She was done with it. As the father of her children, he’d always be in her life, but he could be a distant presence.