Linda Goodnight – The Christmas Family (страница 9)
Brady pointed to the ceiling and exterior wall. “Some leakage in here.”
“Only when it rains.” She tried to sound chipper, but Brady frowned and her stomach dipped. “Will that be a problem?”
“Depends.” He walked across to the window and the wooden floor groaned. He paused, bounced a little and frowned again. “Where’s your crawl space? Lots of weak spots in the flooring. I’d better have a look at the joists before we get too far into this.”
She didn’t know a joist from a joust, but she knew where the crawl space was, though she couldn’t imagine a man his size crawling under her house. “You’ll get dirty.”
Humor brightened his face. “I’m in construction. We get a little dirty.”
“Yes, but you’re the owner.”
“A hands-on owner. Dad insisted we know the business from the ground up. Literally.” He rotated his wide shoulders and looked down at his large body. “Though nowadays I usually send someone smaller under the houses.”
“I fixed a broken pipe last winter. I could go under there and tell you what I see.”
“Don’t worry. I got it. Be right back.”
“You’ll need a flashlight.”
“In my truck.”
He headed outside while she checked on Lila and Dawg, and then started on kitchen cleanup. She heard him clang on a pipe with something metal, so she knew he’d somehow squeezed into the small space.
He was gone for quite a while and when he came inside, he didn’t look happy.
Putting away the last dish, she dried her hands, worry niggling.
“You have spiderwebs—”
His chin dipped toward his shoulder. “Where?”
“Your hair. Bend down.” Without thinking anything of it, she dusted the cobwebs from his russet hair and the back of his shirt. The action felt intimate somehow, and she finished quickly.
“Sorry. I thought I knocked them off outside.”
A little dust on the floor was the least of her concerns. “What’s the verdict?”
“Not what I’d hoped. Or expected.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sit down. Let’s talk a minute.” He motioned to the table.
They’d been talking for two hours, but she pulled out a chair and sat. He did the same. A knot formed in her belly. Something was wrong.
“I have bad news, Abby.” Brady pinched the top of his lip, drew in a deep breath and blew it out in a hearty gust. “Your house is not salvageable. I can’t do the remodel.”
Abby had known it was too good to be true. She shouldn’t be disappointed. But she was. Which was exactly what she got for getting her hopes up. She knew better.
“Is it that bad?” Sure, the old house leaked and was draftier than a barn, but she and Lila lived in reasonable comfort. Except when it rained. Or the north wind blew.
“Bad enough that it isn’t cost-effective to remodel.”
“Okay.” She nodded once. She’d been let down before. At least she hadn’t started dreaming and planning too much. Maybe a little when he’d mentioned color charts and carpet samples.
She put on her best fake smile and stood. “Thank you for trying. I appreciate the thought and your time, and I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding someone else for your Christmas makeover. It’s a wonderful thing you do.”
Brady titled his head and lifted his index finger. “Whoa, wait a second. I didn’t say I was giving up. Buchanons never give up.”
“But if you can’t repair the problems—”
“There’s always a way.” He twitched a shoulder. “We can start fresh, build new.”
“What?” She slithered back onto the chair, more than a little stunned. Was he serious? Build new?
“Makeovers come in many forms. Remodel. Brand-new. In your situation, we’ll shoot for new. We can bulldoze this house and build exactly what you want in its place.”
Abby refused to acknowledge the sudden, thrilling anticipation frolicking in her belly. What he asked was impossible. Completely impossible. Even though the property was hers to do with as she pleased, she had no place else to go. Bulldozing to build new was out of the question! “I don’t think so, Brady.”
“Why not? I can build bigger, better and more efficient from the ground up, a house exactly the way you want it. With all the bells and whistles and lots of pretty things for Lila.”
Oh, he was cruel, dangling that carrot in front of her. For a fleeting moment the image of a perfect little cottage with fresh paint and matching shutters surrounded by colorful flowers flashed through her mind. A dream home for her and Lila. A place that would assist Lila to develop her strengths rather than inhibit her.
Then reality, that cruel beast, came roaring back. Some things just weren’t possible. “Thank you, but it won’t work.”
“Sure it will,” he said with the confidence only a successful man with an easy upbringing would display. “Starting fresh is the perfect solution.”
He clearly hadn’t been kicked in the teeth very many times, and he had no understanding of a person without alternatives, with no place to go, no one but herself to lean on. “This place may not look like much to you, Brady, but this is our home. There’s nothing perfect about tearing it down. We live here.”
“You can live somewhere else temporarily. It won’t be long. My crews work fast.”
She wanted to accept his offer so badly her throat ached from holding back a shout of
“I can’t,” she said instead. “Please understand, as much as I appreciate the offer, I like my home the way it is.” And frogs had wings. “Lila and I are fine right here.”
She wasn’t about to admit that she had nowhere else to go, no money for another monthly payment on a rental and no relatives to impose upon.
He tilted back in his chair and pinched his upper lip. He had a habit of doing that, she noticed, when things weren’t going his way. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth in a puff of frustration. His blue eyes, laser bright, dimmed the slightest amount.
“You’re saying no?” He seemed incredulous as if only an idiot would turn down a brand-new house, and she wasn’t going to explain the circumstances to change his assessment. It was bad enough he pitied her living conditions; she sure didn’t want him to know the rest.
“Yes.” From the living room, she heard Lila giggle and fought off a surge of longing. Her baby deserved better.
She stood again and this time Brady stood with her, towering over her. There was something comforting about a nice man who could make her feel small and feminine.
Teeth clamped tight against the bizarre emotions Brady Buchanon elicited, she led the way into the living room.
Dawg was lying with his nose on Lila’s lap. Her tiny hand rested on his wide head as they both watched cartoons. The dog lifted his eyes toward his master. Brady nudged his chin toward the door. “Time to go, boy.”
Slowly, Dawg stretched to his feet.
“Oh,” Lila said, and wrapped her arms around the animal’s neck.
“Brady and Dawg have to leave now, Lila. Tell them bye.”
Lila looked as if her best friend forever was abandoning her. She gave Dawg one final squeeze. “Bye, Dawg. Bye, Mr. Brady.”
Brady, whose jaw was tight, as if he held back a hearty temper, softened. He gave one of Lila’s twin ponytails a gentle tug. “Bye now, little one.”
Stiffly Abby opened the front door, eager now for him to leave so she could forget this had happened, forget she’d almost let herself dream. “Thank you for the barbecue.”
She didn’t know if she was making the right choice or not, but for her, refusal was the only choice.
* * *
“So how’s the home makeover going?” Dawson asked as he plopped down next to Brady on the couch at Mom’s house the next Sunday afternoon.
“It’s not.” Brady stuck his hand in the chip bowl and filled his paw with Fritos and tossed one to Dawg.
“No?” Sawyer joined the pair in the family room waiting for the NFL game to come on. From the kitchen came smells of hot Ro*Tel cheese dip and homemade chili as the seven siblings gathered for the weekly after-church hangout and football frenzy. “Why not?”
“Abby changed her mind.” Brady was, he had to admit, pretty steamed about that little turn of events. What kind of woman turned down a new house when she could obviously use it, especially when her kid had needs that weren’t being addressed by her current residence? And the way she’d refused, without so much as a reason, irritated him.
“I thought she was on board.” Dawson crunched down on a chip. “What did you do?”
“You think this is my fault?” Like the fiasco on the Crystal Ridge building site. According to Dad, Brady should have foreseen the decorative-rock mix-up. Now he had an entire fireplace to demolish and start all over, as if deadlines weren’t tight enough. Even the church service, where he usually found some peace, hadn’t eased the stress tightening the back of his shoulders. This deal with Abby was the straw that broke the camel’s back.