Читать книгу A Dream of His Own - Gail Gaymer Martin - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Lexie came through the doorway into the meeting room of Parents of Special Kids at the Royal Oak Senior Center and strode to where Ava was sitting. “You’re here. Where’s your car?”

Ava shifted her eyes to see if others heard. “I have a loaner.”

Lexie sank into the seat beside her. “What happened to your car?”

“I had a little accident.”

Lexie eyes widened. “Were you hurt?”

Today Lexie asked probing questions, and it made Ava understand how irritating that could be. She didn’t want to talk about her dumb accident. “No. I’m fine.” She thought of Lexie’s son and grasped the opportunity to change the subject. “How’s Cooper?”

“He’s doing well. We’re so grateful.” Lexie gestured toward the parking lot. “So give me details.”

Ava gave up. “It was stupid. I was leaving the hardware store, and as I was backing up, we hit each other.”

“You backed into a car?” A grin washed away her concern.

Her voice reverberated through the room, and Ava was grateful only a few people overheard. She glanced toward the small group of women. “It was nothing.” She waved her right hand and chuckled.

They studied her a moment and then continued their conversation. Keeping her voice soft, Ava told Lexie what happened. Why let everyone else know she’d been careless?

“Was it a guy?”

His image appeared in her mind as a stream of air huffed through her nose. “Quinn O’Neill.”

Lexie drew back. “I know him.”

“He told me, and to set the record straight, he backed into me.”

She eased forward. “Really.”

Ava provided her with all the details except that he paid for her repairs. That upset her even more as she thought about it. Lexie’s “you backed into a car?” comment made an impact. Her car had hit the side of Quinn’s SUV, not the other way around, and she’d let him pay for her damages. More than a thousand dollars. She shouldn’t have allowed him to pay. She hadn’t even offered him a proper thank-you, and now she felt beholden. She pictured his telephone number still on the back of the hardware receipt where he’d jotted it down.

Lexie eased back when she’d finished. “I’m surprised he knew our names. Quinn sort of sticks to himself. I only know his name, because he helped with some computer issues, and I happened to be in the church office that day working on a mailing. We were introduced.”

“You think he’s unsociable?” Ava hadn’t picked up on that. She’d deducted he wouldn’t accept no for an answer.

“Not unsociable really, but on Sunday he’s in and out of church. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him stay for coffee hour after the service.”

“With me, he was quiet but very kind.” And had piqued her interest whether she liked it or not.

“Time to begin.” Shirley Jackmeyer’s voice rose above the hum of private conversations.

Ava leaned against the chair, relieved that she didn’t have to continue the conversation. She hadn’t stopped thinking of Quinn since she’d said goodbye at the body shop. Was it his generosity? Or was it unanswered questions? Warmth spread through her as the truth became clear. An unexpected attraction had drawn her to the man, but a man would only complicate her life. Even a friendship wouldn’t work.

The chair rattled, drawing her back from her thoughts. Kelsey and Ross Salburg slipped into the chairs beside her. Ava gave them a smile, still amazed to see that a number of faithful men had joined the organization after the women voted to become POSK, a parents’ organization. Ross had initiated the change with his desire to be part of the support group.

“Today before we do our sharing, Ross Salburg would like to say a word.” Shirley beckoned to him.

Ross rose and strode to the front. As always, his smile brightened the room. “Ethan Fox couldn’t be here today, and his wife, Lexie—” he swung his arm toward her “—suggested I deliver his news about the Dreams Come True Foundation. So here I am.”

Titters scattered the room.

“Ethan and I were talking about our kids. All of them doing well, by the way.” Rousing applause halted his presentation. “Thanks.” He gave a nod. “Anyway, Ethan asked me to remind you of the opportunity you have to bring one of your children’s wishes to life at no cost to you. Our kids have suffered with their illnesses a long time, and this organization offers them a very special experience. A dream trip for the whole family. Meeting one of your child’s favorite heroes. Even something as simple as spending the day with a fireman and riding in the fire truck. The anonymous donor of these funds recently added a healthy contribution so we want to let others in the community know about this great opportunity. Please spread the word. This fund is available to the special kids in all of South Oakland County.”

“Ross?”

His head snapped to the right. “Maggie?”

“Is this foundation really from a single donor?”

Ava chuckled. She knew the answer.

“Yes. One person.” Ross sent a grin to his wife, Kelsey.

Maggie raised her hand again. “Do we know who it is?”

Ava sputtered at the question. She, too, had been insistent on knowing who it was, but the secret remained. Ethan Fox would be the logical person to know all the details since he represented the Dreams Come True Foundation, but he denied knowing and remained mum.

Ross reiterated the details of the donor for the sake of the newer members, but not knowing the name of the donor still drew everyone’s curiosity as it did hers. Members often speculated. She’d done it herself. The reason why the donor remained anonymous was always her next unspoken question.

While Ross returned to his seat, Kelsey leaned over and asked Ava about her car. Her red sedan must stick out in the crowd of cars outside, because she didn’t expect both of her friends to notice it was missing. She whispered minimal details about the accident and when the meeting concluded, Kelsey had already told Ross. Both stood beside her asking a multitude of questions. She chuckled to herself. If they kept being so insistent, they would certainly steal her “inquisitor” title.

Kelsey gave Ross a poke. “Was the guy nice?”

The memory rushed over her. “Yes. Very.”

“Good-looking?”

The sensation turned to heat. “I’d say so.” She could say more, but they would only pry with more questions.

Ross grinned. “Did you get his name? His phone number?”

Emotions rattled her as their toying looks made her aware of their thoughts. “Quinn O’Neill, and yes, I have his number.” It burned in her handbag.

“Quinn O’Neill?”

She didn’t like Ross’s expression. “What’s wrong with him? He goes to Lexie’s church.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Nothing as far as I know, and it’s Kelsey’s and my church, too. I just thought it was a coincidence that he called yesterday about looking at some work he needed done on his home. He lives in an English Tudor not far from the zoo. I think the street is York.”

Ava’s interest piqued. An English Tudor. She loved those gorgeous houses with turrets and all kinds of interesting rooms. An English Tudor would be easy to spot. One of these days, she might take a ride that way.

Her pulse skipped. What in the world had she become? A stalker.

* * *

Quinn checked his watch and noted he had time before his appointment with the contractor. His mind had been on Ava, and he’d hoped she would call about the plumbing, but she hadn’t. He wondered if Randy had given her a loaner. He plopped into his desk chair and hit his keyboard spacebar. The monitor came to life, and he typed “white pages” into the search engine and pulled up the page. His fingers poised over the keys, questioning his motive. Then he swallowed and typed Ava Darnell, Royal Oak, Michigan into the search bar. He clicked the cursor, and her name appeared on Blair in Royal Oak—not only her address and phone number but a detailed map to her house. He studied the details, grabbed a pencil and jotted down the information.

When he leaned back and looked at the notepad, his jaw tightened as he tried to comprehend what he was doing. Since the accident, he relived the sound of crunching metal and the thud. He thanked God the accident had been a simple fender-bender. Fender-denter. Ava’s phrase made him smile.

Her face hung in his thoughts, and the emotions troubled him. Ava heightened his senses. She made his blood course with her insistent questions. She’d whetted his interest. With her, he felt alive rather than embedded in the past as he’d been for the past few years. On top of it all, she was attractive, not model-beautiful but very appealing. Quinn pictured her full lips curving into a fleeting smile and her eyes twinkling with curiosity when she talked. Ava demonstrated pride, and he admired that. He’d upset her with the insurance issue, and she’d finally allowed him to redeem himself.

In addition, he’d offered to help with the plumbing, but again paying a plumber took no effort on his part. He thought it would be a nice way to make life a little easier for her. She had a sick son. The knowledge humbled him. How would he have reacted if Sean had been diagnosed with a horrible disease? How would he have coped if Sean had lived through the accident and had become paralyzed or brain-damaged or…? Ava’s strength awed him.

Quinn pushed himself away from the computer and rose. His head pounded with what-ifs. What if he’d taken time to convince Sean he’d let him practice driving later? What if he’d demanded that Lydia not take him on the road? What if he’d agreed to take Sean for the driving lesson?

The questions had assaulted him since the day the police came to his door. The same responses billowed in his mind. If he’d been in the car, his quick action might have saved his son. He had more experience driving. How many times had he veered away from a near-accident by some thoughtless driver wanting to pass on a dangerous stretch of highway. Life was far more precious than saving a few minutes by being reckless.

He stood in his home office and shook his head. Let it go. Let it go. No thoughts or what-ifs could change what had happened. He knew his wife’s wishes. Lydia wanted him to live fully. She’d supported him in every way—his preferences, his career and his dreams. She would want him to move on with his life. Instead he’d run away. He’d sold his tremendous home too filled with memories, left his day-to-day business in his brother’s hands and moved across Michigan to this small town where he was unknown and bought this house.

As Quinn scanned the room, he admitted it needed paint. He’d meant to fix the place when he’d moved in. Instead he’d blended into the beige walls, had run his company from long distance and sank into regret. No more. Change meant moving ahead, and that’s what he wanted to do.

Having purpose for once, he turned off the computer, stepped into the hallway and headed for the kitchen. The late April weather decided to play a trick on spring. A chill clung to the air. He filled the coffeemaker and snapped the on button. In moments, the pungent scent filled the room. As he reached into the cabinet for a cup, the doorbell rang. Quinn veered around and headed for the door.

Ross Salburg, with his sturdy frame and smiling brown eyes, stood on his porch. Quinn greeted him, then stepped back, allowing him to enter. At that moment, he realized Ross’s visit was the first in many months. His last visitor had been an electrician he’d hired to upgrade his fuse box. He’d kept to himself, a box locked tight and covered in cobwebs. Pitiful. He shuddered.

Ross scanned the foyer, his eyes shifting to the staircase rising to the second story. “Nice.” He ambled to the dining room, gave a nod of approval, and then strode across the foyer and gazed into the living room. “Nice Adam’s fireplace.”

“I don’t use it.” The admission darkened his attempt to lighten his mood.

“No?” Ross turned to face him. “This was…is a lovely home.”

“That’s the operative word—was. I’ve let things get out of hand. When I bought the place three years ago, I planned to update a few things. Now I’ve let things get shoddy.”

A frown slipped to Ross’s face, and he turned a full circle, then took a step forward, peering past the staircase to the family room beyond. “You live here alone?”

An ache rose in Quinn’s chest. “Yes.”

“This is a lot of space for one person.” Ross grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Don’t apologize, You’re right. It’s more room than I need.” Quinn envisioned the first-floor master bedroom with its double walk-in closets, roomy bath and vaulted ceiling. He figured most women would love it. “A five-bedroom house is wasted on me.”

“Never a waste. You don’t know your future. One day you may share it with someone.”

Quinn eyed Ross. The man had echoed his own recent thoughts. “I made some coffee.” He flagged him toward the family room. “Would you like a cup while we talk?”

“Sounds great. I’ll take it black.” Ross tucked his hand into one pocket and carried his clipboard in the other as he followed Quinn past the staircase. He faltered in the family room, typical of a contractor who appreciated quality architecture.

Quinn veered into the kitchen, and in a few moments, Ross followed. Quinn motioned him toward the table as he rounded the counter to the coffeemaker. After filling the cups, he headed back to the table, well-lighted by the bay window. He enjoyed his morning coffee there, better than anywhere else in the house. The birds played outside flitting between the trees and the birdbath centered in what should have been a flower garden. The only things that grew now were a few straggly perennials that still had life in them.

He set a cup in front of Ross and then sat across from him. Since he’d called the construction company, he’d wrestled with why he’d contacted it and what he wanted them to do. For so long life seemed empty, almost hopeless, but a renewed urge had appeared egging him to make a difference in his life and in his home.

“Okay, then.” Ross took a sip and set down his cup. “You mentioned wanting vinyl trim.”

“Right, and new windows throughout. And I’d like an honest opinion regarding the roof shingles. I think they’re original.”

“Any leaks?” Ross bent over his clipboard taking notes.

“None that I’ve seen.” Quinn’s focus shifted to the interior. “I’d like the rooms painted, but I’m not sure about colors. I’ll have to give it some thought.” His mind flew to Ava who’d mentioned she loved to decorate homes. “I might like a decorator to give me some color ideas. I have no eye for color.” He pictured Lydia bringing home paint and fabric samples.

“We can arrange that.” He lifted his cup again and took a drink. “By the way, I heard last Tuesday you had a run-in with Ava Darnell.” Ross chuckled.

Quinn squirmed. “Right.”

“Ava’s a nice lady.” Ross tapped the pencil against the clipboard. “She’s had some real trials. I suppose that’s why she was distracted.”

“She mentioned her son has Hodgkin’s.”

Ross nodded. “It’s been up and down for her.”

“Ava told me she enjoyed home decorating…” Quinn didn’t know how to phrase the question.

“Kelsey mentioned how attractive her home is.” Ross swung his arm wide. “Nothing like this place though.”

Quinn nodded, his mind running rings around his growing apprehension. The size of a home was insignificant. The important thing was the love inside. His thought triggered questions. If that were so what difference did it make what color his rooms were? He wanted them clean, that’s all. And making contact with Ava might not be his best move. He should forget her. Forget he even thought about giving her a call.

Ross took a final swig of the coffee and slid back the chair. “I’ll go outside and take a look at your trim, and I’ll send someone over to check the shingles. We can talk colors when I bring over some samples.”

“Sounds good.” But trim colors and shingles didn’t linger in his thoughts. Ava’s image hung there instead. Options? Did he really have options when it came to her? She’d worked her way into his mind from the moment he saw her.

* * *

“Mom. What are you doing?”

Ava’s head snapped up from beneath the kitchen cabinet and bonked against a pipe. She grimaced at the pain, lowered the wrench and rubbed the spot with her left hand.

Brandon’s face loomed in front of the cabinet door. “You’re not trying to do plumbing, are you?” His face registered disbelief.

Surprised at his reaction, she bristled. Who did he think did all the repairs around the house? She ducked out from under the twist of pipes. “I repaired the light switch and the doorbell.” Although what she thought would be an easy job hadn’t been.

A frown wrinkled Brandon’s face. “But plumbing? That’s always hard. If you mess with one thing something else goes wrong.”

She twisted to face him. “Since when do you know so much about plumbing?”

“Mike’s dad’s always botching a job.” His frown spread to a crooked grin. “We just laugh.”

“Stop laughing at people’s attempts to save money, Bran. You need to think about that yourself. I’m not an ATM machine.” She pushed one knee to the floor, grasp the sink rim and rose. “Why are you late? I’ve been home from work for an hour, and I’m at the school longer than you.”

“I watched baseball practice.” He looked away, his expression growing belligerent. “I’d be playing ball if you’d get off my back, Mom. The doctor’s have more faith in me than you have. I’ve been great for two years. I got energy, and—”

“Then how about helping out around here.” She swung her arm toward the backyard. “The flowers will never grow underneath all those autumn leaves that you were supposed to rake last October.”

Brandon pivoted on his heel and marched through the doorway into the dining room. “Forget it. You’ll never understand.”

She listened to his footsteps thump down the hall followed by the slam of his bedroom door. Lately they’d been at odds, and no matter what she did, according to Brandon, was wrong. Her income working in the high school office didn’t buy them steaks and designer jeans. She’d learned to budget and watch her pennies. Brandon expected her to be his financier and housekeeper. When Tom died, life changed. Not only had she lost her husband, but Brandon had lost his father. She understood girls. Boys, she didn’t.

Ava sank onto a kitchen chair, eyed the wrench and set it on the table. Now that she started the plumbing job, she wished she hadn’t. Brandon had been right. She’d resolved the faucet leak, but now water dripped under the sink. She felt stupid. If she’d taken Quinn’s offer, everything would be fixed. But taking advantage of his kindness wasn’t her way.

Pulling up her shoulders, she rose and headed down the hall to Brandon’s room. She stood a moment before giving the door a tap. “Bran. Let’s talk.”

“Thanks anyway.” His deep mumble penetrated the door.

Her little boy had vanished a year ago, maybe last summer between his fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays. He’d shot up three inches, and she had to look up at him now. He used to let her kiss his cheek and give him a hug. That ended with the growth spurt. All she got now was “Mommmm” spread out as if the letters were on grease. She missed the affection.

Her pulse tripped again as Quinn’s face dangled in her thoughts. She’d tried to push it aside. Life kept her too busy to deal with a man. A woman needed enough time and energy to develop a relationship with someone. She shook her head. What made her think the man had an interest in anything other than helping with her plumbing. Why had she stressed she tried to save money? She didn’t want Quinn’s pity.

“Brandon.” She knocked harder. “Open the door.”

It flew open, startling her. Brandon glanced at her, then pointed toward the window. “There’s some guy looking at the house. I’ve been watching him.”

“Some guy?” She followed him across the room to the front of the house, and when she looked out, her heart stopped. “Oh, my.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I know him.” She dropped the edge of the curtain. “That’s the man who backed into me.”

“You mean the fender-denter?”

She wanted to wash the smug look from his face. “I meant bender and you know it.” Why did she keep calling it that? And why was Quinn out there? Her pulse clipped to a trot.

“He’s probably a nutcase.” He strutted for the door. “I’ll tell him to get his—”

“Brandon, no.” Her heart knotted in her throat. “I’ll take care of it.”

He spun around. “Look, Mom. I’m the man in this family and—”

“And I’m your mother. Thank you, but I’ll take care of it.” She strode toward the door, then stopped. “And he’s not a nutcase.”

“Right.”

She ignored his sarcasm and continued to the front door, but when she grasped the knob, she paused. Seeing him sitting in his car at the curb had sent her over the edge. With her lungs on overload, she gasped for air. Focus. Focus. Her mind raced to find a logical explanation as to why Quinn had parked in front of her house. It wasn’t a coincidence. That she was certain.

Plying her courage, she pulled open the door and stepped onto the porch.

As soon as he noticed her, Quinn stepped from the SUV and headed up the sidewalk. “Sorry. I should have called.”

“How do you know where I live?” She forced her voice past her constricted lungs.

A frown broke on his face. “Well, I…”

His discomfort caught her off guard.

“I looked… There aren’t any other Ava Darnells in the white pages.”

“You looked in the phone book?” Her pitch had raised a notch. “Why?”

He evaded her eyes for a moment, then gave her a direct look. “I wondered about your plumbing and about your car. I see you got it back. It looks great.”

“It does. Thanks.” Ava tugged on the hem of her blouse. “Quinn, I… That wasn’t a very warm greeting. You surprised me.” Her emotions had waged a war between temptation and concern. “I’m glad you stopped in. I repaired the leak, but now I have another problem.” She grasped the knob. “Would you like to come in?”

He faltered. “Is it okay?”

She nodded and opened the storm door, beckoning him inside.

As she stepped in behind him, Brandon stood in the hallway door, scrutinizing their guest. “This is my son. Brandon, this is Mr. O’Neill.”

Quinn extended his hand while Brandon eyed it a moment before accepting his handshake. “So, you’re the guy who ran into my mother.”

His accusatory tone seemed to throw Quinn. He did a double take, his gaze searching hers and then flying back to Brandon.

“Bran, apologize.” She tilted her head toward Quinn. “It was an accident.”

Belligerence darkened his face. “I’m sorry you hit my mother’s car.” He spun on his heel and headed into his room.

Ava’s jaw sagged, and she stood gaping at the empty doorway before regaining her wits. “I apologize for my son. He’s in a little snit today, and he’s taken it out on you.” She stepped toward the hallway. “I’ll tell him to—”

“Please, don’t.” He peered past her. “Is the kitchen that way?” He gestured toward the dining room archway.

She nodded. “Follow me.” Ava strode ahead of him, wanting to barge into Brandon’s room and give him a piece of her mind, but Quinn had asked her to drop it. She’d handle Brandon later.

Quinn walked to the sink and eyed the faucet. “I don’t see the problem.”

His relieved expression confused her until she realized he hadn’t heard what she’d said. “It’s a new situation. I’m afraid I did something wrong when I repaired the faucet. Now I have a drip under the sink.” She opened the door and motioned inside.

He stared at it a moment before crouching down and peering in.

She sensed Quinn didn’t want to get dirty, because he only reached inside to feel the pipes. Finally he shoved his head beneath the sink farther, then knelt and reached back into the cabinet. “I think I spot your problem.”

“Really?”

“Did you use the sprayer recently?”

She studied him, not understanding his question. “I often use it to rinse dishes or the sink.”

“I’m sure it’s the hose on your sprayer. That’s where the water’s dripping.” He drew his head from beneath the cabinet, accomplishment filling his face. “Probably a small hole or crack in it. After you use it, you’ll find the water.”

Her heart melted. She’d never seen his full smile, his blue eyes twinkled and lines crinkled above his cheeks like George Clooney.

“Listen.” He rose from his crouch, his smile fading. “I have to be honest.”

Honest? She froze. What would he spring on her now?

“I don’t know a thing about plumbing, but I do think it’s the hose. They’re flexible tubing—plastic, I think—and I suppose they wear out in time.”

He didn’t know a thing about plumbing? The admission threw her. “But you offered to come over and take a look.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to help.”

Embarrassment heightened his skin tone, and it made her smile. “Thanks for spotting the problem. That should be easy to fix.”

“You think so?” He gave her a questioning look.

“I can fix it.” Brandon’s voice surged into the room before he appeared.

Quinn jerked his head toward him. “Great. It’s nice your mom has a man to help around the house.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed as he studied Quinn. “Yeah, I am the man of the house, but can you convince her of that?”

Once again, Brandon had stopped Quinn in his tracks. The boy needed a little fatherly discipline. He rubbed his hands together, then shoved one in his pocket. “I suspect your problem is solved.” He took a step toward the kitchen door. “I should go.”

Before Ava could stop him, Quinn gave a wave and strode toward the front of the house. She spun around to face Brandon, then swallowed her anger, but by the time she recovered her footing, Quinn had reached his vehicle and climbed in. She returned to the kitchen to speak with Brandon, but he had vanished, too.

She sank into the kitchen chair again, trying to sort out what had happened. Brandon could be mouthy with her, but she’d never seen him act that way with others. The incident roiled in her mind until the reason struck her. Brandon resented Quinn in the house. She’d never anticipated that kind of reaction from him. Never.