Now and Forever 4, The Renovated Heart (6 page)

“You can still walk me home…across the
street.”

“You’re staying at Grace’s place?” He raised
his hand to signal Don.

“Nicer, cheaper than the motel.”

“How long are you planning to stay in Willow
Falls?” Don placed a beer in a frosted glass in front of
Tunney.

“I’m not sure.” He watched her gaze move
down to his shoulders then stop.

“If you’re looking to rent something, I’m
looking for a tenant for my mother’s house.”

“Really? I’m interested.”

“The house is furnished. I plan to renovate
it then sell it.” He took a long draught of his beer.

“How long a lease?” She toyed with the damp
cocktail napkin under her drink.

“How long would you want to stay?”

“Maybe six months, maybe a year?” she said,
brushing a lock of hair from her face.

That’s when he noticed it, the wedding ring.
He frowned, convinced this beautiful lady hadn’t worn one when he
first met her.. He would’ve noticed because he had wedding ring
radar, never missed one on an attractive woman. But there he saw
the ring now, plain as day.
What the hell am I doing?
Married…even if I wished she wasn’t.
But he did need a
tenant.

“I could agree to…a six month renewable
lease, in case you want to move or I get a buyer.”

“Six months…I should know by then if I want
to stay.”

“When would you like to see the house?” His
gaze hovered on her lips.

“Anytime.” She wiped her mouth with her
napkin.

“How about after dinner? I could drive you
over there.”

“Is he hitting on you again?” Don asked,
swiping a damp cloth along the bar next to her.

Kit chuckled; she’d heard this routine
before.

“We’re making a deal. I need a place to
live…he has a place to rent.”

“Oh, okay. Because I’d hate to throw him out
of here
again,
” Don said, smiling.

“You say the same thing every week, Don.
Eventually, she’s going to start believing you.” Tunney slammed the
menu down on the bar in mock anger, a smile tugging at his
lips.

“Why? No one else around here does,” he
grumbled, walking back to the kitchen. “I guess he and Sunny are
having a bad day,” Tunney said.

“Sunny?”

“His wife. They’ve been married for twelve
years, you’d think they’d get along by now,” he joked.

Kit clammed up, folding the cocktail napkin
in half then half again, averting her eyes from his.
All serious
all of a sudden. What did I say?

“Chicken Piccata is on special tonight. I’ve
had it before, a great choice.” Tunney put his touched her shoulder
in a friendly gesture. The swipe of his rough hand along her soft,
smooth, bare skin sent a charge up his arm. He quickly removed his
fingers as if he’d been scorched.

Kit pulled out of her reverie to turn her
attention to him.

“Sounds good. I haven’t eaten much
today.”

“You’d better eat. The house has plenty of
stairs. Do you want to go over after dinner?”

“The sooner I’m settled in somewhere, the
better.” She tucked into her food.

Tunney ate quickly, trying to convince
himself he rushed so he could get the house rented but the idea of
being alone with Kit fueled his speedy dinner.

* * * *

After dinner, they got in Tunney’s car for
the ten-block trip to his mother’s house. The charming old
Victorian three story home, painted a soft light brown with white
trim, took command of a small but healthy patch of grass. The
massive wooden front door had etched, frosted glass panels. “There
isn’t much land. Less to take care of. But I’ll have the grass
mowed every week. Come inside, I think you’ll like it.”

He held the door open for her. A musty smell
accompanied by a little wisp of dust greeted her as she entered.
The building and the furnishings were old but well kept. A massive
mahogany table stood grandly in the dining room. A sofa plus
loveseat in faded chintz were the main pieces in the living room.
Kit found her favorites at first glance—a china cabinet from the
early 1900’s, a fabulous antique roll-top desk, black Hitchcock
chairs and a rattan rocker captured her heart.

“Your mother had great taste,” she said,
running her hand lovingly over the desk.

“The kitchen is old but big…come on,” he
said, taking her elbow to guide her.

The kitchen spanned half the width of the
house in the back with a huge cast iron stove. Old pine cabinets,
cheerful gingham curtains and a round table with chairs made the
room inviting. A full bathroom plus a powder room on the first
floor provided convenience. Black and white tiles and a claw foot
bathtub in the bath repeated the antique flavor of the house. Kit
was enchanted.

“Upstairs next,” Tunney said.

She slid her hand along the smooth, polished
mahogany banister as she climbed the tall staircase. There were
three rooms on the second floor and two baths, one very large. The
master bedroom had a double bed, two dressers, a large oak armoire.
One of the small rooms had twin beds.

“Your room as a boy?” She asked.

“How did you know?”

“Twin beds. One for you, one for a friend
sleeping over.”

He nodded. The last, obviously a guest room,
had a double bed with a cheerful bedspread and matching curtains in
yellow and white. She decided this room would be hers.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she
asked him.

“Just me. My dad had post-traumatic stress
disorder from serving in Viet Nam. I was all my mother could handle
and take care of him too. How about you?”

“I’m the middle of three.”

“Any more at home like you who aren’t
married?”

“Sorry. Just two brothers,” she said,
blushing at his compliment.

“Too bad.” He muttered to himself.

They stopped at the staircase leading to the
third floor. Kit peered up but couldn’t see much in the darkness.
Tunney switched on the light.

“The third floor is only for storage. When I
was a kid, the third floor was a playroom with a ping pong table,
then a pool table. Now I’m storing some of my mom’s stuff there
until I can figure out what to do with it. What do you think? Are
you interested?” He leaned against the banister.

“This is a charming house. I love it…what’s
the rent?”

“What can you afford?”

“Not much, I’m afraid…about seven hundred a
month?”

“The exact figure I had in mind. One
caveat.”

“Oh?”

“You have to help me with the renovation.”
Tunney pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Deal. But I’ve never renovated anything
before. I don’t know one end of a paint brush from the other, but I
can duct tape anything.” She puffed her chest out with pride.

Tunney tried to hide his smile behind his
hand.

“I’ll teach you how to be a carpenter’s
helper.”

“Just don’t get mad if I mess up.”

“I’ll come up with a suitable punishment for
mistakes,” Tunney said, staring at her body as he lounged against
the banister.

This felt right. If she and Zoe couldn’t
have their life in New York City back, Kit could create a great
home for them here. It was a place to bring Zoe, where they could
relax, be together, the perfect place to write…if she could ever
think of anything to write about.

She warmed to the spirit of Tunney’s mother
in the lovely house. Helping Tunney renovate would be fun, sort of
like the make-over Sarah had given her. Soon the old place would be
looking grand again.

“You won’t mind living here while I renovate
it?”

“Not at all.”

“Could get messy. Very messy. Do you think
your husband will approve?”

The question brought her up short. Husband!
OMG, Johnny! He’d hate this house.
She forgot about her
lie.

“Yes…yes, I think he will. Not exactly his
taste…but I don’t expect him back before Christmas anyway. We can
plan an, old-fashioned holiday here.”

‘With Staid, too, right?”

“With Staid, too,” she lied.

“You’re not going to see him until
Christmas?”

“Right.”

“How can you keep a marriage together being
away so much?” His eyes probed hers, his brows raised in a
question.

“We manage.” She turned away from him, and
changed the subject. “Can you show me how to use the stove?” Kit
moved toward the stairs, first stopping to text Sarah.

“
Found a house!”

“The stove? Piece of cake,” he said as they
descended to the first floor.

* * * *

29 James Street

The following week, Jim sat at his kitchen
table, with a cup of coffee editing his novel when he heard the
battle between Scottie and Sarah.

“I’m
not
going to camp today.”

“Scottie, you’ve got to go.”

“I’m
not
going.” He pushed a small
pile of magazines off the coffee table.

“Why?”

“Because…I just don’t want to.”

The voices went back and forth for ten
minutes. Finally Scottie wore his mother down, winning the battle.
Sarah slammed the door as she went to the car to drive Laura to
camp. Scottie went out in the backyard to practice dribbling with
his soccer ball. Jim moved out to his back deck and propped his
manuscript on his lap.

“Hey, Scottie. What’s up?”

“Hi, Jim.” The boy kept his head down, his
eyes focused on the soccer ball.

“No camp today?”

Scottie came over to the fence with his
soccer ball.

“Some of the guys there…well…” He bounced
the ball from palm to palm.

“Bullies?” Jim prompted.

“Yeah.” Scottie dropped the ball and watched
it bounce.

“I have an idea. Write your mom a note, tell
her you went on some errands with me, okay? Let’s go.”

A half hour later, Sarah opened the front
door and put a bag of groceries on the front hall table.

“Scottie!”

No answer. She went through the kitchen to
open the back door.

“Scottie! Scottie!”

On the way back to the front door a note on
the kitchen table distracted her. Relief flooded her veins after
reading the message, her heart rate slowed down as she sank into a
chair.
Scottie’s with Jim. Thank God!

She sat down at the dining room table with
her computer and stared at the screen, but nothing came. Pacing,
listening to music, sitting some more, didn’t help—still, nothing.
After two hours, she heard Jim’s car door close. In a few minutes,
Scottie burst through the front door.

Sarah blocked his path to the television
set, stretched her arm out, pointing to the stairs.

“Not a word, mister. Up to your room. You’re
being punished.”

“What for?” he whined.

“For refusing to go to camp.”

The sullen boy stomped up the stairs one by
one, emphasizing his displeasure at his sentence. Sarah tried to
keep the smile off her face. Since Scottie had disrupted her
concentration she went outside. Jim stopped puttering around on his
deck to smile at her. Sarah moseyed over to the fence.

“Thank you for keeping Scottie occupied this
morning, Jim.”

He joined her.

“No problem. He’s a great kid.” Jim opened a
plastic bag to take out a flat of plants.

She smiled.

“I’m glad somebody thinks so. Sometimes I
wonder.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her dress.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s having a hard time adjusting…new
place…new friends…new camp, no father…”

“Isn’t an adjustment to be expected?” He
picked up a pot and a trowel.

“I suppose. Doesn’t make it any easier
though.”

In a few minutes, Scottie poked his head out
the back door.

“Mom…”

She went over to the door.

“Your time isn’t up yet.”

“I want to make a deal. If you let me skip
camp for the next two days, I’ll go every other day.”

“Skip camp…two more days? Why?”

“I’ve got stuff to do with Jim.”

Sarah looked over at Jim who shrugged and
went back to potting plants.

“What kind of stuff?”

“Secret stuff.”

Do I trust him to be spending so much
time with Scottie?
She looked at him again…deciding she
did.

“Okay, but then back to camp.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Back upstairs. Read a book or clean your
room.”

“I’ll read,” he said, disappearing into the
house.

* * * *

After two days of Scottie’s “secret time”
with Jim, Sarah wanted to find out what was going on. Scottie
seemed happier than ever so she didn’t suspect any foul play, but
being his mom, she needed to know about everything in his life.
If I invite Jim to dinner maybe he’ll tell me.

Sarah wandered out the back door and over to
watch Jim dig his hands wrist deep into the black earth. She leaned
her elbows on the fence…the perfect position to show off extra
cleavage. Jim looked up, stopped, and trained his gaze on her
breasts. She chuckled to herself.
Typical guy.

“Would you like to come over for dinner
tonight? Tuesday is salad night.”

“I’ll bring tomatoes,” he said, his eyes not
leaving the neckline of her sundress.

“You can help me shred lettuce.”

Within ten minutes, Jim stood next to Sarah
cutting up more of his garden tomatoes. The children were outside.
Scottie practiced soccer and Laura texted friends.

“Let me show you how to cut tomatoes,” he
said.

“There’s a secret to slicing a tomato?”

“I’m kind of a tomato expert. Here,” he
said, taking the knife from her hand.

He found a larger knife, then with one
masterful stroke, sliced the perfect tomato slice.

“You’re good,” she said, moving the tomatoes
in front of him. “Now you can slice them all, since you’re so much
better at it than I am.”