Starting Over on Blackberry Lane--A Romance Novel Page 6

That explained why his daughter-in-law looked so happy. There was something about a pregnant woman. She glowed like a candle in the dark.

  As for his son, Grant sure recognized that goofy grin. If there was anything as exciting as learning you were going to have a kid, Grant didn’t know what it was. “You got names picked out?”

  “We’re thinking Amanda Louise if it’s a girl.”

  To honor both Charley’s mom and Lou. Lou would have been out of her mind over all this. Damned heart attack. That should have happened to him, not her.

  “And Ethan Grant if it’s a boy,” said Dan.

  “A nod to Dan’s neglected first name,” Charley teased, nudging him.

  “Sorry you get second billing, Dad.”

  “At least I’m on the bill. That’s real nice of you. You two will be great parents.”

  “I hope so,” Charley said. “I never thought I’d end up being a mom.”

  “It’s happening, babe.” Dan slipped an arm around his wife. “So, Dad, you’re gonna be a grandpa.”

  “Works for me,” Grant said.

  And now he was really glad he’d decided to come back stateside. A new kid in the family and a new business. What else could a man want?

  He caught a glimpse of the pretty woman at the other table and suddenly remembered what else.

  * * *

  Stef normally had Tuesdays and Thursdays off. Once upon a time, BD (Before Destruction), she’d enjoyed staying home on her days off, watching HGTV or puttering in the garden, doing craft projects or playing with Petey. These days, home wasn’t exactly where the heart was, so on Thursday she was more than happy to take a latte break with Griffin at Gingerbread Haus.

  “I’m going to poison Brad now and be done with it,” she informed Griffin as they entered the bakery. “Then I’ll replace him with a real carpenter.”

  “From what I hear, they aren’t always very fast at getting work done, either,” Griffin said. “Anyway, he’ll get the living room finished eventually,” she added, obviously trying to be encouraging.

  Stef did not feel encouraged. “Eventually? Maybe. Right now, it’s looking more like never.” Stef shook her head. “I thought we were so perfectly compatible when we first got married, but I didn’t know about...this.” She sighed. “I do love the guy. What I don’t love is the way he keeps starting projects and never finishing them. It’s making me nuts. I just want to find someone to finish this so we can be done with it, but Brad keeps insisting he’ll get to it.”

  Cass, who was ringing up some swan-shaped cream puffs for Muriel Sterling-Wittman, greeted them. “Still nowhere near done, huh?”

  “He’ll never be done.”

  Muriel took her purchase and smiled the all-knowing Mona Lisa smile she was famous for. “When we’re in the middle of something challenging, it always seems like it’ll last forever, but trust me, even the hard times come to a close.”

  “Thanks,” Stef murmured, feeling like the queen of the wicked witches. Here Muriel Sterling had been widowed twice—talk about hard times—and she never complained. Stef’s chaotic reno project, which had been feeling like a mountain, shrank to a molehill. Muriel gave her a reassuring pat on the arm and Stef sighed as the older woman left the shop. “I’m a bitch.”

  “No, you’re not,” Cass assured her. “I’d feel the same way if I was in your house. I feel the same way in my leaky house, only I don’t have a husband to blame.”

  Another woman with no husband. Now Stef really felt guilty for complaining. Sometimes Brad did not bring out the best in her.

  Oh, yeah. Blame it all on Brad. She needed therapy. “Give me two gingerbread boys and a large caramel latte,” she said to Cass. “I’m going to smother my sorrows in sugar.”

  “Good idea.” Cass looked at Griffin. “Are you going to walk on the wild side today and have a gingerbread boy?”

  “I’ll just have a cup of gingerbread tea. Beth’s been stuffing me full of goodies the last three days.”

  Cass smiled. “Next to me, she’s the best baker in town. Well, except for Janice Lind. I’m sure she’ll win the Raise the Roof bake-off again this year.”

  “That was before you moved here,” Stef told Griffin. “It was really fun, kind of like a county fair, but without the cows and pigs. At the end they auction everything off. They also have a silent auction. Last year I won a dinner for two at Der Spaniard and a huge basket of Sweet Dreams chocolates. You should come. I bet you’d get some great food pictures.”

  Griffin nodded thoughtfully. “I might have to.”

  As if on cue, Maddy Donaldson, one of the town’s busiest volunteers, came into the shop, selling tickets to the event. “It’s for a good cause,” she reminded them.

  “What does it raise money for?” Griffin asked.

  “The proceeds go to maintaining our historical buildings in town. It’s a big part of what keeps Icicle Falls beautiful, and the tickets are only ten dollars, a real bargain.”

  “I’m all for that,” Stef said, digging her wallet out of her purse. “I’ll take four,” she told Maddy, then said to Griffin, “You can come with us.”

  “I can pay for my own,” Griffin insisted.

  “I know, but I want to.” Griffin no longer had Steve to share expenses. Her budget had to have shrunk considerably.

  “I’ll take one, too,” Cass said. “Give me a minute to get my money from the back room.”

  “I’ve got it,” Stef said. “We can all go together.” Was she being bossy or what? But it would be fun to have her two favorite Icicles with her.

  “That’s sweet of you,” Cass said.

  In light of the many times Cass hadn’t let them pay for their treats, that was the least she could do.

  “Raise the Roof is going to be great this year,” Maddy said as she took their money. “We have so many wonderful things for the silent auction. The art gallery is donating a painting by Gray Wolf Dawson. And Sweet Dreams has come through again.”

  “I’m interested in that,” Stef told her. “Now, if you could raffle off a temporary husband...”

  “Funny you should say that. We have a new business in town—Honey Do—and he’s going to be offering a whole day of work.”

  “It’ll take more than a day to clean up my mess,” Stef grumbled.

  “You can always hire him for however long it takes after that.”

  “I hear he does roofs,” Cass said, “so I’ll be all over that.”

  “I’m sure he does. It’s Dan Masters’s dad. He’s just moved here from Mexico. I talked to him on the phone yesterday and he’s really nice. I hear he’s gorgeous.”

  “He is,” Cass said. “I met him when Charley and Dan got married.”

  “If that’s the case, there’s bound to be a bidding frenzy,” Maddy said with a smile.

  “I suspect there’ll be a bidding frenzy anyway,” Cass told her. “We’ve got two of us right here who’ll bid on a handyman.”

  Maddy hung around for a while to chat, then went on her way, and Stef and Griffin settled at one of the bakery’s bistro tables with their drinks and the gingerbread boys. Cass took a moment to join them.

  “I sure would like to win that handyman for a day,” Stef said. She could already see her new great room with its polished hardwood floors. All that space! Of course, what she needed would take more than a day. Maybe she’d hire him for...life. “If I could get the guy to finish some of Brad’s other projects, I wouldn’t have to murder my husband.”

  “You have to stop saying stuff like that in front of us,” Cass teased her. “If anything happens to Brad, we’ll get called into court to testify.”

  Stef sighed. “I know. It’s just that he makes me so mad sometimes. Why can’t he finish anything?”

  “He’s a visionary,” Cass suggested. “Lots
of great ideas.”

  “Well, maybe he needs to envision sleeping on the couch for a while.” The weekend was around the corner and had he saved any time to work on the house? No. Friday night he was sitting in for someone at Ed Fish’s weekly poker game, Saturday was T-ball for Petey, followed by a birthday party they’d all be going to, and Sunday he’d committed them to staying after church for a potluck. Generous of him to volunteer her to bring a casserole and dessert.

  “That’ll never happen,” Griffin said. “You’re too soft. He wouldn’t be on that couch longer than a couple of hours.”

  “I’m done with being soft,” Stef said. “I should’ve come down on him with the first unfinished project. I’m so bidding on that handyman.”

  “Me, too,” Cass warned her. “I need a new roof.”

  “I may need someone, too,” Griffin said. “I’m thinking of selling my house.”

  Stef nearly dropped her latte. “What?”

  “With Steve gone, I’m not sure it’s practical to stay there. I talked to a Realtor this morning, and she’s coming later this afternoon to look at it and tell me what she thinks I can get.”

  They’d walked all the way down here and Griffin hadn’t said a thing to her. Stef felt slightly hurt. Maybe Griffin had been afraid she’d try to talk her out of it. Maybe she would have.

  “You’ll probably get more for it than you paid,” Cass said. “Real-estate values here are going up even on older homes. Where would you move?”

  “I’m wondering if this might be a good time to go to New York and really pursue food photography.”

  “New York? Wow, that does sound glam,” Stef said. “But do you have to go all the way to New York to do that? These days can’t you do everything over the internet? Anyway, you’re getting business right here.” Yep, this was why Griffin hadn’t said anything.

  “I know. And part of me doesn’t want to leave.”

  “Then don’t,” Stef urged. This was all Steve’s fault. If he hadn’t been such a loser...

  “I think I could do better there. It’s where all the big business is. And if I want to get noticed, I need to relocate, at least for a while. Now, when I’m on my own, might be the time to at least try, even though it kind of scares me.”

  “You know we’d all hate to see you leave,” Cass said, “but I say go for your dreams.”

  “Cass is right,” Stef said. “I hate the idea of you moving, though.” She picked a cinnamon candy eye from her gingerbread boy and frowned at it.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Griffin said. “I need to see what I can get for the house first. And I need to finish up my project with Beth.”

  “I hope it takes a long time.” Okay, totally selfish.

  “Speaking of that, I’ve been sitting with you two for way too long. I have to get back to work,” Cass said and left them to finish their treats. Well, Stef would finish hers, anyway.

  She returned the conversation to the subject of Griffin’s moving, and Griffin sighed.

  “I doubt I can afford to stay here on what I’m making now, not living alone.”

  “New York won’t be cheap, either.” No hidden agenda in that remark.

  “No, but if I actually wind up making good money it won’t matter.”

  “True. Okay, I obviously need to be a noble friend and support you. But I’d rather find you a roommate. What about a really hot guy? Or somebody rich to support you while you work on your photography.”

  Griffin frowned and cocked an eyebrow. “A sugar daddy?”

  “No. Someone who’ll fall madly in love with you and believe in you enough to foot the bill while you’re becoming a superstar on the internet, which is totally different from a sugar daddy.” She wasn’t sure how, but that was beside the point.

  “I won’t hold my breath on that one. Anyway, I’m not ready to jump into another relationship. Even if I don’t like being by myself.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Stef admitted. “You don’t want to rush into anything and end up with someone who drives you nuts.” Gee, who could she have been thinking of when she said that?

  When she got back to the house, seeing the drape hanging in the middle of her living room and knowing what was behind it didn’t exactly improve her mood. She was glad she had to work the next day. At least she wouldn’t have to be home to look at this. Brad had better pray she won that handyman in the Raise the Roof auction.

  The fundraiser was the first weekend in May—not that far off. Still, living with this mess, it felt like it was a million years away. She hoped she could hang on that long.

  Chapter Five

  Nenita Einhausen from Mountain Meadows Real Estate arrived at Griffin’s house promptly at three in the afternoon. She was short and slender and professionally put together in a black power suit and heels, her dark hair caught back in a ponytail to accentuate her delicate features.

  Griffin, who hadn’t bothered with makeup and wore jeans and a sweater, suddenly felt dumpy. Like her house. “Thanks for coming over,” she said.

  “I’m happy to,” Nenita said cheerfully and walked into the room like a woman on a mission. “This place has so much potential. If I didn’t already have a house of my own, I’d buy it in a minute.”

  That was encouraging. “So you don’t think I’ll have any trouble selling it?”

  Nenita shook her head. “No, we’ll find you a buyer. Hardwood floors, nice. Can I look at the kitchen?” Before Griffin could answer, she was on her way there. Griffin followed and watched as she assessed the dated appliances with a silent nod, then poked her nose out the back door. “Lovely little yard. The back porch needs some help.”

  “I know. My ex was going to get around to that,” Griffin explained, then felt her cheeks burning. Why was she telling that to a perfect stranger?

  Nenita gave her a sympathetic smile. “Been there, done that. As it turns out, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It motivated me to get into real estate, which I love. What do you do?”

  “I’m a photographer.”

  “Really? Can we see the upstairs?” Nenita asked and started power walking toward the stairs. “Do you do portraits?” she asked as Griffin trailed her up them. “Would I have seen your work for sale at any of our festivals?”

  “No. I specialize in pictures of food.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “It is. I’m thinking of moving to New York, where I can get more work.” Or I could move back home and live with my parents forever. Which option should I choose?

  “Good idea,” Nenita said. She looked in the first bedroom. “Nice size. So, are you in a hurry to sell?” she asked and moved to the next bedroom.

  “Well...” Was she?

  “The reason I ask,” Nenita said, “is because you could get a lot more money for the place if you had time to fix it up a little. It needs some updating, a few repairs. New paint. Not that I couldn’t sell it as is, but I assume you want to get top dollar.”

  “Of course,” Griffin confirmed. “How much do you think I could get?”

  “Fixed up?” Nenita told her and started dollar signs dancing in front of her eyes. “The market’s on the upswing.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  The list was daunting. In addition to fixing the broken back stair and painting the outside of the house, Nenita suggested painting most of the inside, as well—two bedrooms and the living room had been deemed in need of freshening.

  “You should replace the stove and fridge and dishwasher if you can afford it,” she finished. “Once you get all of that done and we stage the place, it’ll sell pretty fast. Summer’s the best time. People want to get moved and settled before the school year begins.”

  Okay, she could do this. It would be great to hire that new handyman everyone was tal
king about, but she could save money if she did most of the work herself. Painting wasn’t all that hard. She’d tackle that first and then worry about the broken step and the appliances.

  Highly motivated, she went straight to the hardware store with her credit card after Nenita left, and started looking at paint chips. So many different shades—it was almost overwhelming. She finally decided on a cream for the living room as well as one of the spare bedrooms and a light turquoise for her own room. It would pick up the colors in her bedspread and pillows, and that would help with staging. The cream would look attractive with the house’s hardwood floors, which Nenita had suggested refinishing. Ugh.

  Painting the outside of the house was going to be really spendy and would have to wait until she could work up the nerve to ask her dad for a loan. She selected her paint, brushes, roller and about a million other supplies, and took them to the cash register to be rung up. She swallowed hard when she saw the total but stoically handed over her credit card, reminding herself that you had to spend money to make money. She’d heard that somewhere. She hoped it was true.

  She was pushing her cart full of paints out of the store when a man walked in past her. Whoa. “Oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh,” she muttered and pulled out her cell phone.

  Stef answered after several rings. “Did you see the Realtor?”

  “Yeah, but never mind her. I just saw George Clooney!”

  “What?”

  “Seriously. I’m sure it was him. What’s he doing in Icicle Falls?” Was he making a movie here? And if he was, why hadn’t it been splashed all over the papers? Why wasn’t everyone talking about it?

  “George Clooney in Icicle Falls? Okay, were you in that new cannabis store outside of town? Are you, like, hallucinating or something?”

  “No. I swear it was him. I’m going back inside to check it out. I’ll call you later.”

  Griffin loaded her supplies in her trunk and then hustled into the hardware store again. Okay, where was he?

  “Did you forget anything?” asked Alan Donaldson, who owned the store.

  “I was thinking I might need another paintbrush,” Griffin improvised. She knew she was blushing, could feel the heat on her cheeks.