One Door Closes (5 page)

Calvin paused. “I thought you’d decided.”

She shrugged, and he tried to imagine her as the Greg she had been, wheat-brown hair even shorter and voice low instead of the higher tones she now affected. Looser clothing. She had a rounded, androgynous face, hazel eyes with light brows. Still didn’t wear much makeup, just foundation and a touch of the rest here and there, as if she were experimenting. “Not sure if it fits.”

Calvin wished wistfully for an interruption. Will, Julia, even the guy from out back. The next second he felt bad. Obviously Glenna needed to talk. He looked around, trying to figure out what else he required for the snack in the midst of this new distraction, and finally gave up. Faced her. “You know we’ll call you whatever you want to be called here.”

She shook her head. Her expression was that of pondering something much simpler than the topic warranted, lips puckered and brow crinkly. “I can’t switch it all up. They already think I’m not serious.”

“Who does?” Calvin craned his head toward the window, trying to see the rest of the group outside. “One of them?”

For the first time in a long while, she looked shy. Her shoulders hunched and her longish blond bangs swept forward as she ducked her head. “No, I just know they’re thinking it.”

He opened his mouth, but she spoke again, voice dropping to its natural register as it did when she was distracted.

“What would you choose?”

Calvin coughed and looked at the plate of food in his hands. “Oh, Glenna, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He thought he’d botched it all up, but Glenna just shrugged again and grabbed the bowl of chips off the counter. “I’ll keep thinking about it.”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how serious she was about the switch, or whether she was perfectly serious now but might not be in a couple years. He didn’t know her well enough yet to make a judgment call. Either way, she was only fifteen. She had time. “You could ask your sister.”

“Yeah,” Glenna said evasively.

The doorbell rang just as he was situating the plate of goodies. He left the kitchen with Glenna trailing behind, and managed the sticky front door with one hand. And nearly shut it again.

Eric Angus of Pac Western Real Estate stood there smiling in a three-piece suit. “Good afternoon, Mr. Ware. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

It wouldn’t matter what he answered, but he gave it a go. “You are, actually. I have visitors.” He indicated the kids on the far side of the yard, lounging in the grass or pushing each other around good naturedly. A shout spiked from one of the boys and the group erupted into giggles.

Angus barely even glanced over. “That’s too bad. I’ll try to keep this brief.”

The footsteps behind Calvin stopped. Glenna came around his side, surveying the newcomer. Her eyes flicked back and forth between them. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine.” Calvin managed a smile that felt pretty convincing. “Here, feed the horde. I’ll be out in a minute.”

She shifted the bowl into both arms, clutching her water in one hand while Calvin balanced the plate on top of the chips, then went through the doorway, taking the steps carefully. Halfway across the lawn, she threw a glance back.

“You said the end of next week,” Calvin said as soon as she was facing forward again. He kept his expression as neutral as possible, but Angus’s answering smile made it hard.

“I believe I specified this week or next.” The developer made a subtle movement forward, but Calvin didn’t budge.

“Maybe you can come back later, then.”

Angus’s smile cooled. “Mr. Ware, stop beating around this sad little bush of yours and face facts. You’re on borrowed time here.”

“Until you actually own this property,” Calvin said levelly, “you don’t have any say in what I do with my time on it.”

“The situation was made very clear to you. This monstrosity of a house is an inch away from being condemned, and when that happens, the property itself and all rights thereto revert to Pac Western to do with as we see fit. Stated clearly in the agreement drafted by the Elk Ridge City Council before Audrey Rasmussen’s death. I know you received a copy.”

It still thickened his throat, hearing his mother’s name associated with dying. “It’s not condemned yet.”

Angus sighed. It was not a defeated sound. “As you haven’t made an effort to remedy that inevitability as yet, my company is going to push forward. Believe me, we’re perfectly within our rights to do so.”

Somehow Calvin managed not to broadcast his dismay. But it was only the final hammer thunking into place. He’d known this was coming, he’d just been expecting it to come later, once he’d had a reasonable chance to explore his options. “It’s a matter of funding—”

“It absolutely is. I’m aware that your foster mother put aside a small amount, but we both know it won’t even begin to cover the renovations required on this building. Unless you personally have the means to pay for the remainder, you will not meet the criteria set down by the council.”

“I have until next Friday.” Nine days to bite the bullet and agree to Will’s contract, or most of it, but either way, it was too much money. The plumbing upgrade alone would eat up most of Calvin’s savings, and he only had a general idea of what his brothers could spare. Nor had he heard from them on that account since Danny’s blowout. Just an edgy silence that pervaded the hallways, making each creak and groan sound especially loud.

He was still waiting on a loan application at his bank in Spokane. He wasn’t legally allowed to tap into Audrey’s funds yet but once he did, those would vanish quickly. If he committed to using the place as some sort of halfway house, as Audrey had done for years, he could apply for the same grants she had, but that was still miles out, almost indistinguishable from the horizon. A million steps loomed between today and actually obtaining the permits to have kids living on the premises, and the grant foundations would never fund a simple support group that met twice a week, not when there were cheaper rooms the group could rent in churches and community centers. Calvin felt a rush of irritation at Danny and Devon for not speaking up about the estimate aside from Danny’s complaint, for not taking a more active role in getting the monetary side of things settled.

“May I come inside?”

Calvin slapped a hand onto the opposite frame and stepped into the middle of the doorway. “No, you may not.”

Angus exhaled, eyelids dipping. It turned his stare absolutely frigid. He looked across the lawn again, eyeing the group of kids more shrewdly than before. “I’m here to work out an amicable solution within the limitations of your situation. You do have until next Friday. To finalize a contract. To begin the real work that needs to be done. As far as I can tell—” he stepped back, spreading his arms and somehow turning the house into nothing but a smudgy afterthought, “—you haven’t done anything substantial. My goal is to protect Pac Western’s investment, and if that means exercising our rights and having you removed from the property, I will.”

“You’ll need a lot more than you have with you right now,” Calvin said flatly, and watched Angus’s nostrils flare. Calvin stepped forward, leaving the door open behind him, and felt as if the house were swelling, expanding its lungs and looming once more into its rightful place at his back. “Whatever it may be to you, Mr. Angus, this is my home. I’m not going to let you tear it down.”

Angus gave him a smirk. “For someone who cares so much about his home, you don’t show it. It’s falling to bits right over your head. Do you even have a contractor yet?”

“Yes, I do.” That at least wasn’t an exaggeration.

But Angus nodded too knowingly. “Does he know about your time crunch? I don’t even see him.”

“That, uh, that would be me,” said a voice from inside. Will came out of the dining room at a quick clip. Calvin dropped his arm in surprise, and Will reached around him to shake Angus’s hand. “Will Cabot, Jerritson Urban Designs.”

Angus’s entire body tensed. He looked Will over carefully. Eventually he took Will’s hand in a lackluster grip. “Eric Angus, Pac Western Real Estate.”

“What’s the problem?” There was something sing-song in Will’s delivery, but his expression remained open.

Calvin could see Angus resettling himself. When he spoke again, it was with the firmness of fact and a long history of experience in delivering ultimatums. “Your client here is required to abide by the agreement set down by the Elk Ridge City Council, in terms of either renovating this property in its entirety, as it currently constitutes a health hazard, or turning it over to Pac Western to be developed as the company sees fit.”

Will gave the merest of blinks in Calvin’s direction, and Calvin fought the stifling sensation that crept up. He should have said something, explained the whole damned issue, but he’d wanted more time to steel himself against the inevitable, if that was what it was. Hell, might as well be truthful—he’d procrastinated, and now he was reaping the rewards. Will at least should have been told what he would be dealing with, and Calvin should have been the one to do it. If he’d been thinking clearly and not so distracted by...everything.

“I see. And the terms are that the house needs to be finished, or needs to be under construction by a certain date?”

Angus paused. “Construction must be underway by next Friday, and completed within the set time frame of a year,” he said, as one throwing down a good card without having prepared for the play. “This agreement was finalized two months ago with the house’s former owner, a Ms. Audrey Rasmussen, and it is the outstanding documentation on how the property is to be dealt with.”

Will raised both hands, a textbook study in
not my problem
. “Look, I don’t know your deal with Ms. Rasmussen. But I know our deal.” He nodded between himself and Calvin. “Jerritson is legally obligated to get this house up to code.”

When Angus stuck his hand out and demanded the contract, Calvin’s lungs sucked tight to his ribs. But Will just produced the sheaf of papers he’d mailed over and handed them across. Calvin worked hard not to look in Will’s direction, but couldn’t keep his eyes from darting to the papers themselves.

He hadn’t signed them yet, he’d only given the go-ahead for the bathrooms and the electrical issues because they needed to be done in order to keep functioning, the back porch because it was a messy accident waiting to happen, but—

A signature sat on the bottom of the last page, the page Angus had flipped to immediately and was now scowling down at. Even from upside down, Calvin recognized it as a close approximation of his own. The slant was different, the curve of the letters from a former year, before he’d gotten hurried about it all and grown comfortable with signing things off.

He did look at Will then, and caught the pinking of his throat.

Angus leafed back to the first page and slowly perused all the parameters, the jobs listed and the requirements entailed. And Calvin’s initials signed in black ink on the bottom of each page. When Angus looked up, it was not to stare at Calvin, but at Will, sharp and direct. Will put his hands into his pockets, eyebrows raised in gentle inquiry. It reminded Calvin vividly of the time they’d borrowed from a pile of patio tiles at Will’s house in order to finish a history project, and gotten caught hammering them into chunks by Will’s father.

Angus turned to Calvin, his expression falling into an outright grimace. He stepped back, peered past them into the house, then out along the façade as if he could see around back.

“I don’t see many workers around here,” he stated, a little too volatile, the first crack in the grip he’d maintained.

“I have an electrician upstairs and a carpenter out back.”

Angus continued to glare at Will, and Will’s face stiffened in some intangible way. His eyes hooded, just as they had done against every asshole in high school.

“You’re questioning how Mr. Jerritson manages his business?”

Angus gave Will another aggravated look and slapped the papers into Calvin’s palm. “I’ll be back by next Friday.” He turned and went down the porch steps. “And I’ll be calling Jerritson,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Beside Calvin, Will swore softly.

Neither of them spoke as Angus backed his car down the driveway, drawing the eyes of the kids on the lawn with the squeal of his tires when he turned onto the road. Calvin found himself gazing down at the contract, at the wrinkles in every sheet. He couldn’t get his hand to relax.

Will swayed closer. “You’re not obligated. I know that’s not your signature.”

Calvin just stared at him. He’d left the contract on the dining room table, just as he had for the last two days, and Will—

Will wasn’t looking at him. “Just lucky he didn’t take a picture. In any case, it bought you some time.”

If Calvin moved at all, they’d touch. “Will.”

Will sighed, an entirely different kind of sound. “Look, Mr. Jerritson won’t be a problem. He liked Audrey. Liked what she did.” His mouth pinched. “He won’t give Pac Western any information they don’t already have.”

“You’ll be in trouble,” Calvin protested.

“Nah. Mr. Jerritson likes me, too.”

He was backing away, putting a distance between them that Calvin did not like. Each inch yanked on him, twitching in his muscles, twining around his voice.

“Will.”

Will stopped. The cords between them sagged, then resumed their muted tension. At least he wasn’t moving anymore. Calvin left the door open, glancing once at the kids on the lawn. He moved nearer.

Will shrugged awkwardly. His gaze was oddly intent.

Calvin took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Least I could do.”

Calvin couldn’t think of a way to respond. He forced himself to step back, reading the slant of Will’s body. “Audrey had funds. They’re still not accessible, the estate lawyers are...” He tried to find some way to encompass the sheer exhaustion of those conversations, the very first he’d had when he’d arrived. And no one to stand there with him and listen, pick apart the legalese. He thought he’d managed it pretty well, considering that he had no background in any of it, but his meager understanding held no sway over the cogs of the bureaucratic machine. “We should be able to get hold of it in a few months. But even then, it won’t be much. I have what you’re doing right now covered, and I’m looking into ways to pay for the rest. I don’t want you to think—”