by Jen Talty
“Hi!” the little boy squealed as he ran by.
“Where’s Doug?” Stacey asked. She smiled and laughed, but her eyes had a tired look about them.
“I’m right here,” Doug yelled from the side of the house. “Brandon, come help Daddy measure the perimeter.”
Stacey rubbed her swollen belly. “Thank god,” she said, taking one of the folding chairs and sat down, glancing over her shoulder as her son ran toward the house. “This second pregnancy is killing me.” She unraveled her long blonde hair from the bun she’d put on top of her head. The way Stacey carried confidence put Brooke’s self-assurance to shame.
“How far along are you?” Brooke made sure the other chair was secure before turning it to face Stacey.
“Five months.” Stacey pulled the small table over, kicked off her shoes and rested her feet on the table letting out a long sigh. “Sorry about intruding on you today, but my husband won’t be able to sleep tonight if he doesn’t get those measurements.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford this, so I feel bad he’s spending the time, but it’s greatly appreciated.” Brooke barely remembered meeting Stacey and her family the other night. “I’m sorry about my drunken behavior the last time we met.”
“We all have had one of those nights.” Stacey waved her hand. “I didn’t know your grandfather well, but everyone who did, loved him.”
“He was a good man.” Brooke swallowed. She’d always been friendly. Outgoing. Extroverted. Whatever label you wanted to give someone who never had a problem talking to anyone, which is why sales had been such a great career choice. That said, asking someone about legal advice was something entirely different. “My grandfather’s estate attorney recommended your step-mother for a bit of trouble I’ve gotten myself into.”
“She’s great at what she does,” Stacey said. “I can tell her you’re going to give her a call.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Brooke stared at the petite blonde who she suspected packed a huge punch. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t ask why I needed her services.”
“I can’t say I’m not curious, but it’s none of my business.”
Brooke respected Stacey’s directness. “I hauled off on my boyfriend’s slutty side dish and she pressed charges.”
Stacey lowered her chin. “First altercation with her? With anyone?”
Brooke nodded. “I speak my mind and can hold my own in an argument. But, I’m not the kind of person that goes off and hits people. It was just the perfect storm of events.”
“Why don’t you come over for dinner and I’ll introduce you to Jillian. It sounds like a simple plea bargain case.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“Are you doing anything else this evening?” Stacey asked.
“Well no.”
“Then I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I have a feeling that you’d drag me kicking and screaming.” Brooke hadn’t meant to accept the invitation, but truthfully, spending the next few hours alone wasn’t all that appealing.
Stacey laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m glad you agreed.”
“Have you lived here your entire life?” Brooke asked.
Stacey nodded. “Born and raised. You can see my father’s house from Tristan’s dock and my house is right next to it.”
Brooke’s heart skipped a beat. She’d run from her parent’s house the moment she graduated high school. She loved her parents and she’d never gone through a rebellious stage. Her decision to go downstate had more to do with wanting new experiences and having ambition. She certainly wasn’t running from her parents. But Plattsburg was the most God-awful place on the planet. “Is it weird living next to your folks?”
“I can see how other people might think it’s strange, but it works for us.”
The familiar hum of a motor caught Brooke’s attention. She watched the big metal gate at Ramsworth Manor swing open. A large, dark SUV, exactly like the one her grandfather drove for them, pulled out on to the main road, heading south toward the country store. “Do you know the Ramsworth’s?”
Stacey let out a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve known Wendell since we were kids. My father used to do a lot of construction for them, but he won’t do it anymore.”
“Why not?”
“They change their minds halfway through jobs, expecting the contractor to absorb the cost. They don’t pay on time, but mostly the way they treated Doug.”
“They look down on everyone.” Brooke glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of Doug helping his son with the measuring tape. “If you’re not from their same social whatever, you’re beneath them.”
“My father could handle their judgements considering all he had to overcome being a single dad at the age of seventeen.” Stacey folded her arms, resting them on her belly bump. “But he couldn’t handle the way they treated an innocent young man.”
“What do you mean?” Brooke’s eyes grew wide.
Stacey waved her hand in the air. “To make a very long story short, when my dad first met Doug, he was a fifteen-year-old homeless boy. My dad gave him a job and moved him in with us.”
“How old were you?” Brooke tried to hide her shock by keeping the muscles in her face tight, only she forgot to close her mouth.
“Six.” Stacey lowered her chin. “But that has nothing to do with what the Ramsworth’s did to Doug.”
“I’m listening.” Brook snapped her lips together.
“When they found out Doug had been homeless most of his life, they told my father that Doug wasn’t allowed into their home. They were concerned for their safety.” Stacey held up both hands, making the quote sign with her fingers. “My father told them that where he went, Doug went, and if they didn’t like it, then they could find someone else to do the job.”
“I bet that really pissed off Grandma Ramsworth more than anyone else.”
“To this day, if she sees my beautiful gentle giant of a husband, she walks on the other side of the street, clutching her purse.”
“What a bitch.”
“You can say that again,” Stacey said, shifting her shoulders.
“Mommy!” Brandon yelled as he raced toward his mother, arms flapping about. “Daddy’s all done and I got the messsureints right!” The boy jumped into Stacey’s lap. “I’m going to build things just like daddy.”
“That’s awesome.” Stacey rubbed her nose against the little boy. “You can be just like dad and papa.”
Doug sat on the grass and stretched his legs out, setting a notebook on the ground. He had soft caring eyes and by the way he looked at his wife and son, they were his world. “My measurements aren’t adding up. Do you know if there was any work done on the house over the last ten years?”
“The interior was painted, but I think that’s it,” Brooke said.
“I believe there is some dead space in the walls between the master bedroom and the guest room, behind the kitchen, but I’d need to look at original plans and any modified plans after that.” Doug ran a hand through his thick, long hair. He looked like the kind of man who should be gracing a hot body calendar and while his facial features showed him to be kind and sweet, he wasn’t Tristan.
She blinked. Where the hell did that come from? She meant Larry. Didn’t she?
“Do you mind if I request the blueprints from the town and any permits for construction?” Doug asked, snapping her out of the insanity finding Tristan more attractive than her ex-boyfriend and her new friend’s yummy husband.
“I don’t mind, but what does it cost?” Brooke had spent her entire career perfecting the killer close. For the last three years, she had either been the top sales person in her division, or led the team that had the most sales. But sitting here with this family, she realized that all she’d tried to do with Larry was close the marriage deal.
“At most, a couple hundred, but don’t worry about it for now. If you decide to hire me, we can talk about it,” Doug said. “Bu
t I suggest you talk to a couple of other contractors, just to get a feel for different things.”
Brandon climbed down off his mother’s lap and tugged at Doug’s tool belt. Watching how natural and comfortable the couple was with their son made Brooke realize how uncomfortable she’d been the entire time she’d been living with Larry. The constant walking on eggshells, wondering if he was cheating. Who he was cheating with.
“I appreciate the candor,” Brooke said.
“I’d like to take the key over to an antique dealer I know.” Doug said as he held one end of the tape measure so his son could measure his own foot. “He might be able to give us some insight.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Tristan’s family, so we’ve always got each other’s back.” Stacey shifted again in her chair, still rubbing her belly. “I invited Brooke over for dinner and she’s accepted.”
“Awesome,” Doug said as he stood, holding his hand out to his wife, his son perched on his hip. “We’ll see you tonight. Around six?”
“I’ll be there.” Brooke watched as Doug buckled his son in the car seat in the back of the truck before helping his wife into the passenger seat. They all waved as the dark truck made its way down the street.
She fingered the pendant dangling between her breasts, tears burned in her eyes. Her parents had been the greatest people on earth and she missed them desperately right now.
I’m a good listener. Tristan’s words rattled around in her mind. She liked him. He made her laugh and had a way of breaking down barriers she didn’t know she’d constructed. The rapport she had with him would have taken years to build with anyone else. She wondered if her feelings for Tristan came from his vast knowledge of her grandfather or something else.
She pulled out her phone and tapped his contact information.
How are things at work?
She stared at her phone for a good three minutes. Nothing. Well, he was at work. Her phone buzzed.
Long day so far. How’d things go with Doug?
Her heart fluttered like a girl waiting in line for cotton candy at the state fair.
Good, I think. He took measurements. Stacey invited me to dinner so I can meet her step-mom and maybe talk about my case. Why a long day?
The bubble blinked.
That’s good. I’m hoping to have something regarding the note by tomorrow.
Her heart thumped. He hadn’t answered her question.
Why a long day?
She shivered, sensing frustration and concern.
Dealing with a murder case. Nothing you need to worry about.
She swallowed, looking around the front yard.
Be safe out there.
She stared at her phone.
I still don’t think you should be alone in the house, so I’ll be there by 12:20 ish. Have to respond to a call, but I’m here if you need me.
Tucking her phone into her back pocket, she folded the chairs and stared at the house. It might have only been twelve hundred square feet, but it was filled with family and love.
What more could anyone ask for?
Happiness.
Her grandparents and her parents had it in spades. Now she had to find it.
Tristan rubbed his eyes as he reached for the morning paper. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but the moment he’d cracked open the door to Brooke’s house, the humidity smacked his skin like a water balloon, only it wasn’t refreshing, coating his skin with a splash of warm Florida pool water that made you do a double take, making sure you hadn’t been splashed with hot oil. The only thing worse than that had to be the chills that crept across his body from the air-conditioning as he carefully pushed the door shut.
When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he hadn’t expected to see Brooke at the kitchen table. But there she sat, face in a bunch of papers, twirling her hair, wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts. He stood at the entryway for a long moment, soaking up her beauty. They’d stayed up ‘til two in the morning discussing her legal issues and watching an episode of Bloodline. He’d never heard of it before and she insisted he watch at least one episode. It took a lot of control on his part not to watch another one. Crazy good.
But the company was better.
“You’re up early.” He tossed the paper on the table as he padded his way across the kitchen to pour a large cup of coffee, ignoring his need to draw her into his arms. Getting involved with woman fresh off the cheating ride was a sure-fire way to have a short-lived relationship.
“If my grandmother were here, she’d be yelling at you for being half naked in the kitchen.”
“I’ll go put on a shirt.” He scratched the center of his chest, feeling the massive poke his mother would have given him.
“Not until you explain this.” She shoved the questionnaire he hadn’t finished in front of his face.
“I started it, but then had to go to work.”
She tapped on one particular question. “You promised you’d be honest.”
He held the paper between is thumb and forefinger, staring his answer, contemplating his response. “I was honest.”
She shook her head, snatching the paper from his hands. “You can’t compare what you want in a woman with someone else, especially someone you barely know.”
Maybe I don’t want someone else and would rather get to know you? “I don’t see how filling that thing out is going to help me with diarrhea of the mouth.”
“Really? At the breakfast table?” A quiet laugh followed her sarcastic words. “All I’m trying to do is help you find out what kind of person you want to be with and then go back and look at your last few girlfriends to see if you’re even close and what may have caused the relationships to go sour.”
“I didn’t love them,” he said as he poured her a second cup of coffee. “Which could be part of the problem.”
“Not one of them?”
He joined her at the table, leaning back in his chair, staring into her warm eyes, amused by her pursed lips and crinkled forehead. As much as he liked her, he’d have to be patient, something he knew he had in him. “I wanted to fall in love with them. I tried.”
“Love doesn’t happen like that.” The way her fingers twisted and glided her hair into a side braid mesmerized him. “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.
He nodded. It had been a long time since he let his mind wander to the girl that broke his heart.
“With who?” She tucked her foot up under her butt. The skin on her thigh glistened in the morning sun peeking through the window. “When?”
“I’ll tell you the story on one condition.”
She cocked her head.
He mimicked her look, only he added a grin.
“What’s the condition?”
“You tell me what made you fall in love with Larry and what went wrong.”
She nodded. “You first.”
He leaned into the table, fingers fiddling with the handle on his coffee mug, staring into the dark liquid. His mind easily conjured up her image. “I was a junior in college, studying pre-law with the idea I’d finish Law school and go on to Quantico to become an FBI agent.”
“You became neither.”
“She was part of that decision.” Carefully, he raised the mug and blew before taking a large gulp, letting the coffee burn the inside of his mouth. Anger had left him a long time ago, but sadness could still cut his breath short. “Brenda and I met in our intro to criminal law course. Swear to God, for me it was love at first sight.”
“That’s infatuation.”
“Maybe, but the moment she asked if the seat next to me was taken, I was lost in her. Everything about her. The way she laughed. Her voice. I could sit and listen to her for hours and be the happiest man alive.”
“So, it wasn’t just her looks that attracted you to her.”
He closed his eyes, feeling the same ripple of heat burn his skin, only this time Brooke caused the sensation. “She was drop dead gorgeous, so her
looks certainly helped, but she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever known.” He blinked a few times, avoiding Brooke’s stare. He might be talking about Brenda, but what stirred inside him now had nothing to do with his past girlfriend and everything to do with the woman sitting across from him. “I’d been dating someone else when I first met her, so I didn’t act on anything, but Brenda was all I could think about. She consumed me.”
“Did you cheat on your girlfriend?” Brooke’s tone remained even, but her words had some bite.
“No. I broke up with her because of my feelings for Brenda, though Brenda didn’t return mine, at least not at first. Took three months to convince her to go out on a date with me.”
“Impressed by your determination. But what about those things that pop out of your mouth at the wrong times.”
He shrugged. “They happened left and right, but she honestly didn’t seem to care.” He laughed. “The first date was actually horrible for both of us. My car broke down. We missed the dinner reservations and then I got the movie times all screwed up and our only choice was to see a teenaged comedy sex flick.” He glanced up to see Brooke covering her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.
“It didn’t end there.” He smiled. “We stopped for ice cream and I managed to spill my chocolate cone all over her white blouse then tried to clean it up, essentially groping her.”
“What did she do?”
“Pushed my hands away, called me an asshole, and proceeded to shove her cone in my face. It quickly turned into us having an ice cream fight at the picnic table before we ended up in a lip lock.” He remembered her strawberry lips as he touched his own. “Someone yelled at us to get a room and we sat there, staring at each other until we burst out laughing. I took her back to her dorm and said goodnight. Thought that would be the end of it, but the next day in class, she kept finding ways to put her hand on my arm, or lean into me. After class, we went back to her dorm and I guess the rest is history.”
“Why’d you break up?”
“She never loved me.” His heart skipped a beat. “I’d tell her I loved her and she would respond with ‘awe, you’re so cute’. I asked her about it one day and she told me ‘sorry, I don’t feel the same way, just having fun’.”