Читать книгу Lakeside Family - Lisa Jordan - Страница 12

Chapter Four

If Josie had a quarter for every “if only” that popped into her brain, she’d be able to pay off the rest of Hannah’s medical bills and head south to their dream beach house on the Gulf Coast of Florida.

She stared through the gaping hole in the bathroom floor in the upstairs apartment down to her shop. Like the one in her pocket.

Was this how Alice felt when she peered down the rabbit hole?

Okay, maybe not quite, but Josie had the sensation of falling into a very deep well—one not lined with Ben Franklins.

Footprints had been tracked through the plaster dust and muddied the water-stained brown tile in the storeroom. The same dust coated the metal storage racks and plastic totes. Swollen ceiling tiles lay tossed on the floor.

All because of a tiny...what did Harv call that little doohickey thing? She tried, she really did, to listen as her contractor explained the plumbing problem in lingo she could understand. He was the expert, after all. But her thoughts kept returning to the cost to fix the mess. Not to mention the stench pickled her brain.

If only she hadn’t forgotten to call Harv to fix that leaky toilet when her previous tenant had mentioned it. But once Hannah’s leukemia returned, everything else dropped on her priority list. If only... No, she wasn’t going there. She didn’t have time for pity parties. Especially when Hannah had it so much worse.

“Josie, did you hear what I said?”

Josie swung her gaze to Harv, who stood next to Ian James, her insurance man. Both men wore grim expressions that did little to soothe the ache in her stomach. “I’m sorry, Harv. I disappeared down a rabbit hole.”

“Climb back out, Alice. We have some figures to discuss.” The creases around his eyes deepened as he winked at her. He tugged his John Deere baseball hat out of his back pocket and plopped it on top of his balding head.

Josie jerked her head toward the door. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll get you guys some coffee.”

Ian held the door for them. “Say, Josie. Is Agnes working?”

As Josie passed by him, she took in his black suit, white creaseless shirt, shiny shoes and trimmed hair. “Yes, Ian, but roll up your tongue. She doesn’t need another man in her life right now.”

“When did you become her mother?” he muttered, following her down the stairs.

“After I cleaned up the train wreck of her marriage. You saw what that jerk did to her.” Josie opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. A late-winter breeze whisked across her cheeks.

“Josie, chill. I’m not going to cheat on her. I just want to take her to dinner.”

Entering the coffee shop, Josie sniffed the scent of freshly baked blueberry cobbler. Her stomach growled. “Everyone’s charming on the first date, aren’t they?”

“When did you become so cynical?” He smoothed a hand over his hair.

Josie opened her mouth and then shut it. No need to yank those skeletons from her closet. Shelby Lake was her fresh start.

She gentled her voice and placed a hand on his arm. “Listen, Ian, you’re a great guy, but take it slow, okay? Agnes looks like she has it all together, but her heart is pieced together with Scotch Tape.”

Ian pocketed his Clark Kent glasses and stared over her shoulder a minute. Then he pulled his gaze back to meet hers. He touched the tip of her nose. “Are you sure you’re still talking about Agnes?”

“Positive. Find a table. I need to pull cobbler out of the oven.” Before he had a chance to protest, Josie whirled away from him.

Crazy talk.

Her heart was just fine, thank you very much.

Besides, she and Agnes looked out for each other. That’s what friends did.

She pushed through the kitchen door and knocked heads with Agnes. So much for looking out for her.

“Sugar Pie, where’s the fire?” Agnes rubbed the right side of her forehead.

Josie sniffed back sudden tears as she scrunched her throbbing eye closed. “Sorry, Aggie. I didn’t see you.”

Agnes primped her curls. “And here, I thought I made my hair extra high this morning. Figured you could’ve seen it through the window.”

“Yeah, if I was looking for Texas-size hair.”

“How’d it go upstairs?”

“Ugh.” Josie gloved her hands with pink pig oven mitts and pulled open the oven door. Heat pressed against her face and neck. She pulled out a bubbling blueberry cobbler and set it on top of the stove.

“That good, huh?”

Josie slapped the mitts next to the dessert, crossed her arms and leaned one hip against the counter. “Am I a terrible person who deserves all of this grief? Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Life doesn’t play fair, Sugar Pie. This ain’t about you, so don’t go taking this on yourself. You’re doing the best you can with what you’ve got.”

“If I had the toilet fixed when Beatrice mentioned it, we wouldn’t be in this mess. A lousy two-dollar part would’ve saved me thousands. What sort of responsible business owner am I?”

Agnes grabbed Josie’s arms and squeezed gently. “The kind who is trying to do everything and be everything to everyone. Cut yourself some slack.”

“If only—”

“No ‘if onlys’ about it. You could waste forever on shoulda woulda coulda. Yesterday is all gone, thank you. Instead, focus on what you’re going to do now to fix it. That’s what matters. None of us expected this to happen.”

Ian poked in his head in the kitchen. “Josie, Harv had a call and left. He said he’ll stop back in later, but he left an estimate. And I need to head back to the office.”

“I’m coming now.” With Agnes on her heels, Josie followed him to the dining room table where Ian had his computer tablet and a yellow legal pad spread out.

Ian handed her an invoice. “This is Harv’s estimate. He’ll go over it with you later.”

Josie’s eyes widened at the number of zeroes to the left of the decimal point. She glanced at Agnes and Ian. “Twenty thousand? Seriously?”

Ian guided her to the chair and forced her to sit. He took one beside her. “Don’t worry, Josie. The insurance should cover it.”

“Should?” Her voice squeaked. “It has to.”

“Normally, yes, but in cases of neglect, things get a little dicey.”

She gripped the edge of the paper. “Do you know how many cancer treatments twenty thousand will buy?” Not to mention, it could go a long way toward her growing pile of co-pays and medical bills. She couldn’t afford to waste it on a stupid toilet problem.

Agnes set a steaming cup of tea in front of Josie. “Drink, Sugar Pie.”

She cupped her hands around the mug, breathed in herbal mint and blinked back tears. “I can’t afford this, Aggie. I could sell the shop, but then I’ll lose Hannah’s insurance.”

Agnes pulled out a chair and sat opposite of Ian, sandwiching his hands between her own. “Ian James, you know as well as I do that Josie has been spending every possible minute with her daughter, taking her to the doctor and chemo treatments and keeping this place running.”

“Of course, Agnes.” The tips of his ears turned crimson.

“Don’t seem to me that it’s neglect if she simply hasn’t had time to attend to it. Why, that’s just silly. Shame on you for making this poor girl cry. As if she doesn’t have enough to worry about already. Now you be a good insurance man and file the paperwork so Josie doesn’t have to worry her pretty little head about this anymore.” She patted his cheek as if he were a six-year-old child being scolded for eating cookies before dinner.

Agnes stood and slid her hand under Josie’s elbow, guiding her to stand. “Come along, Josie. Ian will take care of everything. Won’t you, darlin’?”

Slack-jawed, Josie stared at her friend and then slid a glance at Ian. The poor man was so smitten by Agnes—and no, she didn’t blame him—he’d probably don a chicken suit and cluck if requested.

Pushing to his feet, Ian cleared his throat and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Josie. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll call Harv and deal with him myself. Agnes is right. You have more important things to worry about.”

Agnes rounded the table and showered him with a honey-laden smile. She brushed invisible lint off his jacket and straightened his narrow pinstriped tie. “You are a good, good man, Ian James. You and I both know Josie isn’t neglectful. Forgetful, maybe, but can you blame the poor dear? Her mind is wrapped around her calendar and her daughter’s health.” Agnes spun on her toes and sashayed her size six Texas dynamo behind the counter to wait on a customer.

Ian fumbled to put his notepad and computer tablet in his hard-sided briefcase. He removed his glasses from his pocket and set them on his nose without taking his eyes off Agnes. “She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?”

Josie glanced over her at her friend and grinned. “That’s one word for it.”

Ian gave Josie’s shoulder a squeeze and then ambled out the door, whistling.

Josie straightened the chairs and grabbed her cooling cup of tea. She set it on the counter by the espresso machine and applauded quietly. “That, my friend, deserved an Oscar.”

Agnes looked up from the latte she was making. “Whatever do you mean?”

“That man is so sweet on you, he’d do anything you asked.”

“All of this coffee has marinated your brain. You’re imagining things.”

“I didn’t imagine that hole in the floor. I just hope the insurance will cover it.”

“Ian will come through for you, Sugar Pie. And so will God. Just you wait and see.”

* * *

Nick stood on the sidewalk in front of the white clapboard house with red shutters and checked the house number against the scribbles on his paper. It looked more like someone’s home than a place for adults with special needs.

Before Josie whirled back into his life yesterday, Nick received a call from Miss Patty, his brother’s group home caregiver, giving him a month to find a new place for Ross. Her son-in-law received orders to Okinawa, and Patty was moving to Virginia to be with her pregnant daughter. At least she gave him a place to check out—Jacob House, owned by her cousin Mae and her husband, Walt.

He needed to do this. For Ross.

His brother was going to lose it when moving day arrived. And being even farther from Linwood Park wasn’t going to help with Nick’s commute. Maybe he should just cancel the appointment.

Not an option. Patty was still moving, and Nick couldn’t care for Ross by himself.

Exposed branches scratched at the multipaned dormer windows. He strode up the cleared sidewalk, making a mental note of the wheelchair ramp off to the side and covered with nonskid surfacing. Snow melted like leftover frosting over low evergreens hugging the rails of the wraparound porch. A black mailbox with a red cardinal painted on the front hung next to the door.

The wide front porch with the gray planked floor, padded wooden rockers and swaying porch swing made Nick think of summer evenings shooting the breeze with neighbors or enjoying a quiet evening with the family while swigging iced tea from Mason jars.

The curtains in the window moved, and a pale face pressed to the glass stared at him. Nick lifted a hand. The face disappeared, leaving behind a smudge on the pane.

He wiped his feet on a bristled welcome mat and rang the doorbell, hearing the gongs echo throughout the interior. No turning back now.

The door opened, revealing a man with graying hair and wearing faded jeans and an Ohio State sweatshirt. A wide smile erased the drill instructor sternness from his forehead. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Walt Hoffman.” He held out a hand.

Nick shook it. “Nick Brennan.”

“We spoke on the phone. Welcome to Jacob House. Come in and meet everyone.” He stepped aside for Nick to enter.

The aroma of freshly baked bread reminded him of Josie’s place. His mouth watered.

A woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail and dressed in a denim jumper and white tennis shoes came out of the living room. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Jane Vogt, one of the staffers. Let me take your coat.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand and then shrugged off his jacket to hand to her. Over Jane’s shoulder, three men stood in the living room doorway, whispering to each other.

Jane turned and laid her hand on the shoulder of one man with neatly combed red hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His almond-shaped eyes stared at Nick as his tongue protruded slightly from his mouth. He wore a green-and-yellow bowling shirt with Ernie stitched on the left pocket and hugged a Cabbage Patch-style doll dressed the same way, glasses and all. “Ernie, this is Nick Brennan. Nick, Ernie is one of our residents at Jacob House.”

“Nice to meet you, Ernie.” Nick held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Ernie spoke with a slight lisp as he reached for Nick’s hand. He thrust the doll at Nick. “This is Frederick.”

Nick shook Frederick’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Frederick.”

Ernie whispered something in Frederick’s ear and then put the doll’s mouth to his own ear. He grinned. “Frederick said nice to meet you, too.”

Jane linked her arms with the other two men. “This is Paul and Gideon.”

Paul’s dark hair was combed away from his face. He had a smudge of paint on his left cheek. Paint stains splattered his royal-blue apron.

“Nice to meet you, Paul.”

Paul nodded twice, gave Nick’s hand two shakes and then took two steps back where he tapped on the wall twice. He dropped his gaze to the floor, but his lips moved as he talked to himself.

“Gideon, can you say hi to Nick?” Jane placed her hand on Gideon’s back and urged him forward. He dug in his heels, crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

“You don’t feel like talking?”

Gideon glared at Nick and shook his head again.

“Why not?” Jane spoke in gentle tones.

“He did the crossword puzzle.” His bottom lip protruded.

Nick frowned. “What crossword puzzle?”

“My dad’s puzzle.”

The old man at Cuppa Josie’s. A wave of heat crawled up Nick’s neck. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Gideon. I didn’t know your dad did the puzzle. I’m new in town. Please forgive me.”

Gideon looked at Jane. “Do I have to?”

She shook her head and smiled. “No, it’s your choice. I hope you do. I’m sure Mr. Nick would like to be friends.”

“Okay, Mr. Nick, I’ll be your friend.” Gideon stuck out a chubby hand. Nick reached for it, but before he could shake it, Gideon wrapped his arms around Nick and hugged him. He laid his head on Nick’s chest. “Thanks for being my friend.”

Nick patted Gideon’s back and prayed he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt.

Jane cupped a hand around her mouth and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “Gideon, I think you’re surprising our guest. Would you like to help me work on a jigsaw puzzle while Mr. Nick talks with Mr. Walt?”

Once Jane had redirected the three men back to the living room, Walt turned to Nick. “You handled yourself well. Other than Gideon launching himself at you. That’s important since I’m assuming you will be visiting quite a bit if you choose Jacob House for Ross’s new home. The men are close. Their acceptance helps.”

“I’ll be here several times a week. My brother is an important part of my life.”

Walt smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Sounds good. Come on. Let’s grab some coffee.”

Walt led them through the living room. Ernie and Frederick sat on a dark brown leather couch, watching cartoons on the wide-screen TV. Jane and Gideon sat at a square table putting together a puzzle. Light streamed through a large bay window dressed in ruffled curtains, highlighting the pieces. Paul stood in front of an easel, holding a palette in his left hand as he added strokes of color on the canvas. A bird and a nest took shape.