Stepping Up To Love (Lakeside Porches 1) (8 page)

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Authors: Katie O'Boyle

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #Fiction, #Lakeside Porches, #Series, #Love Stories, #Junior Accountant, #College Senior, #Alcoholic, #Relationship, #Professor, #Predatory, #Trustee, #Stay, #Sober, #Embezzlement, #Threaten, #Ancestors, #Founded, #Miracles, #Willing For Change, #Stepping Up, #Spa, #Finger Lakes

BOOK: Stepping Up To Love (Lakeside Porches 1)
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Manda gave them her new cell phone number and new address. She loved the way it sounded when she said, “Fourteen dash one Lakeside Terrace.”

When her face lit with a smile, the stress vanished for all of them. Manda gratefully accepted their help hauling everything down to her car.

She smiled all the way across town, up the hill, into her parking space, and into her little apartment. “Home,” she said.

She stood in the center of the space for a moment, thinking about her prayer in the car the night she left Kristof’s.
You were paying attention, weren’t you, God? Thank you. I could never have imagined living in a place like this.

Halfway through organizing her kitchen, she heard Tony arrive with tools in hand.

“You beat me,” he teased.

Manda described the scene that greeted her on campus after her shopping trip with Joel.

“Doing lines on the counter? Hey, if that was the last straw, what else went on before that?”

Manda laughed. “Last night it was a snake dance on the sofa. That’s why I didn’t get supper.”

“Do I want to know what you mean by a snake dance on the sofa?”

“Stacey has a snake tattoo on her belly, and the guy has one—well, let’s leave it at that.”

“Other highlights we should know about?” Tony went on.

“Nothing else illegal. I’m sure security will be asking for a statement from me, and I’ll fill them in. Hey, I need to lighten up right now.”

Manda was busy stocking the tall cupboards and hadn’t heard Joel come into the apartment. He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”

She turned and welcomed his hug of reassurance. “I’m good. I’m where I’m supposed to be, and I’m really grateful that Tony is getting those locks in place today.”

“Did Kristof do something after I left you?”

“No, I walked in on my roommate and her biker buddy doing drugs. I called security, and they helped me vacate. I hope it’s okay that I’m here this early?”

“Of course it’s okay. How can I help?”

Manda was aware of Tony’s eyes ping-ponging back and forth between the two of them, taking note of Joel’s hands stroking her arms. She was suddenly self-conscious and wondered when she had become so comfortable with Joel’s touch. She felt her face flame.

She announced, “I…actually need a break. I’m going to walk down Lakeside Terrace and see what’s at the other end. Catch you later.”

Tony grunted a reply that sounded like, “A little family beach. Not much action there!”

Manda flew past him so fast he dropped the drill.

“Hey! Take it easy, girl!”

In rhythm with her walk—left foot, right foot—she recited, “I am off men for life! I am off men for life!” all the way down Lakeside Terrace, around the curve, and onto the beach. She sat down hard on the sand, locked her arms around her knees, and glared at the dark blue of the lake. White caps were building, and two foolhardy sailboats bent into the wind as they raced to their moorings.

Manda had never felt so at home in her life or so happy with her choices. But was she crazy living in the same building as Joel Cushman? The last thing she needed was to fall for a man who was way too sexy, who—if the rumor mill had any credibility—charmed every woman that came onto his radar. If only she didn’t love his touch and admire practically everything else about him. She really needed to be off men for life—at least right now. Feeling this way about Joel was way too confusing.

She hated that she’d dared to give him a hug this morning when he’d first showed her the apartment. And he’d hugged her back for a second and then let her go like she was off-limits or something; what was that about? Her Grandma Doughty would say, “Joel Cushman’s not interested in the likes of you. He’ll be wanting someone sophisticated and high-class for a serious relationship.”

Manda didn’t think Joel was looking to seduce her. Or was he? Her experience with Kristof had really messed with her head. She needed to get a grip.

She dug her cell phone out of her pocket and speed-dialed AA. “Hi, I need a meeting tonight. What’s scheduled in Tompkins Falls or nearby?” She had a choice of a big open meeting at the Lutheran church at seven or a women’s meeting at six o’clock in Clifton Springs. She’d find her way to the women’s meeting right after work, even if it meant she wouldn’t know a soul.

She closed her eyes until a phone number came to mind, the one for Janine the therapist she’d been seeing since she got sober. Manda really needed to talk about the violence last night and Kristof’s mind games and the way it was messing with her head even now. She hated that she doubted Joel’s generosity and concern. She punched in the therapist’s number and left a voicemail requesting an appointment.

As it turned out, the women’s meeting was eighty percent of what she needed.

“I bounced from one empty relationship to another for a long time around these rooms,” the guest speaker told the women, “until I did a thorough fourth-step inventory and really cleaned house. Once I did, I learned how to be friends with a man, not jump into bed with him.”

Manda laughed and heard several women around her do the same.

“Sounds like a few of you identify with that!” the speaker chuckled.

Manda thought the woman’s name was Gwen, and she’d seen her once or twice at the Tuesday night women’s meeting in Tompkins Falls. She really should get back to that meeting now that the semester was winding down. She could get a meal at home and study a couple of hours at the desk in her studio apartment before going to the meeting.

Her whole routine could change now that she had her own place. She could put her meetings first since she wasn’t scheduling her movements to avoid contact with Stacey or with Kristof.

But how could she possibly avoid Kristof if he was stalking her?
Stop. You can’t solve that right now.
Manda wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but it felt exactly right. For now, with help from Joel, she had a safe place to live and freedom to rethink her schedule.

On the drive home she found herself thinking about other things that needed a fresh look. Had she made a mistake asking Barb to be her sponsor? She didn’t feel very supported in her efforts to work on the twelve steps, and she didn’t feel comfortable talking with Barb about the situation with Kristof.

Her foot hit the brake before she realized there were deer on the road. Somehow she navigated through them and pulled onto the shoulder shaking.
God, I’m glad you’re paying attention. All these obstacles. I need your help in so many ways.
She rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment until her shaking subsided. At last she let out a long, cleansing breath, put the Beetle into gear, and continued on her way to her new little home.

Joel arranged to meet with Manda the next afternoon at a coffee shop downtown. It was time to hand over the books that had been driving him insane for too long.

He appropriated a meeting room off to one side of the coffee bar, opened his laptop, and smiled at the sound of Manda’s laughter. She was ordering the largest size coffee and joking with the barista about the stuffed Easter Bunnies that overflowed the display cases.

When Manda found him, she teased, “Is this your office away from the office? You work too much, Boss.”

“You have no idea how glad I’ll be to turn this work over to you.” Joel patted the chair beside him. “Sit here so we can look at this monstrosity together.”

Manda raised her eyebrows. “How bad can a spreadsheet be?”

“I’ll let you be the judge. Denise was conscientious, I’ll give her that, but I wouldn’t call her logical. I have doubts about the accuracy of this thing.”

Manda tucked her tote under the chair and slid onto the seat. Wordlessly, she studied what was on his screen.

Joel nudged the laptop closer so she could reach the trackpad and keyboard. He took the opportunity put his arm along the back of her chair and lean over her shoulder. “I don’t mean to crowd you,” he fibbed.

“You’re not,” she told him absently. He sighed and gave up all hope of this being a romantic exchange.

Fascinated by her digital dexterity, he watched her navigate back and forth through several worksheets, jot questions on an electronic notepad, expose formulas, and double-check the most complex calculations by doing unexplainable things with the calculator accessory.

In less than ten minutes she concluded, “No problem. I wouldn’t have done it this way, but it works just fine. I’d give it, like, zero points for design, but it is accurate.”

Joel was speechless.

Manda turned to his silence. “What? Again, you’re looking at me like I’m an alien species.”

He held up his hands and shook his head in surrender. “I am humbled to my core.”

“Get out,” she told him playfully. “It’s a spreadsheet. I’m an accountant. I can see where this—okay, this thing is a monstrosity, let’s face it.”

Joel was laughing out loud at her monologue.

Manda forged ahead. “But it does work. Hey, I can see where it would give you nightmares if you weren't a numbers guy. You had me really concerned she’d created something unmanageable or logically flawed, but that’s not the case.”

She stopped talking, and Joel did his best to sober up.

“What’s next, Boss?”

Joel clicked on a tab to bring up her notepad full of questions. “Let’s start with these.”

Halfway through her jumbo coffee, Joel was sure Manda had learned the inner workings of the properties he managed. He employed a small army of contractors to keep them in top condition, plus grounds keepers, a paving company, and a decorator. Rents came in monthly with few defaults or delays.

“I’ll handle any defaults,” he assured her. “Just give me a statement each month highlighting the overdues.”

Together they reviewed the procedures Denise had put in place and the forms and standard phrases she used to communicate.

“What do you think?” Joel asked after Manda had run out of questions.

“I think it will keep me out of trouble.”

“Too much work?”

“If I weren’t nearly finished with the semester’s assignments, I’d be worried.”

“You say that as if you’re ahead of schedule in your classes.” So far she was saying everything he wanted to hear. She was making it easy for him to make his pitch.

She nodded. “I am. I have a project due in a couple of weeks that just has to be polished and packaged and submitted. And I have a huge, semester-long spreadsheet assignment that still needs a day or two of concentrated work. And that’s it. Then, please God, I can graduate.”

Joel double-checked the DVD he had just burned for her with all the files, forms, and procedures.

“Sorry if that sounded snarky,” Manda said to his silence.

“Snarky?”

“I have a bad attitude about school right now.”

“What’s driving that?” he asked casually.

“Fear.”

He slipped the disk into a protective sleeve and handed it to her.

Manda put it in her pocket. Her eyes swept the table, and he guessed she didn’t know how to have this conversation with him.

“Fear, like you don’t want to get your face slashed when you’re studying in the library?”

Manda physically shrank at the question and her hands started to tremble.

Joel reached for her hands and looked into her eyes. “Even with the police and campus security doing everything by the book, you are in danger,” he affirmed, “and the way I see it you should not be on that campus—ever—with the exception of your graduation day.”

A few tears escaped. Manda could only nod her agreement.

“I want you to talk with your professors—by phone, by email, however—and ask to be excused from classes from this point forward. Here’s why they will agree. Campus security has been acting as the collection point for all the reports pertaining to the danger you are in and the impact on your health. They have privately alerted each of your professors that you cannot attend classes without putting yourself in jeopardy.

“Manda, I have every confidence your professors will excuse you from classes, if you have that conversation with them, and if you agree to submit all the assigned work on or before the scheduled due dates. Will you do that, please?”

Manda was sobbing with relief by the time he finished his speech.

He drew her gently to him and let her cry her heart out on his shoulder. He didn’t care who witnessed this exchange or what they thought about it. She was a young woman whose need for safety could not be guaranteed by the college she had faithfully attended for four years. A gentle hug was the least its officers could do to demonstrate their humanity and their concern.

“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered and felt her nod her head against his shoulder. He had never thought himself capable of tenderness, but he believed that’s what his heart radiated at this moment.

The storm struck two weeks later on Friday. Manda came home from her women’s meeting in Clifton Springs, saw no deer on the journey, changed into her only pair of clean pajamas, and fell into bed at eight o’clock. She was totally exhausted from a week of overwork. Three areas of responsibility were a little overwhelming right now. She still worked part time four days a week at the Manse, and Dan was pushing her to do a little more, giving her new tasks to challenge her. She was pushing herself to finish her schoolwork and submit it as soon as possible. And she was busier than she thought she would be with the bookkeeping job for Joel’s properties.

She knew the new job would get easier as she became more conversant with the tenants and the properties and the suppliers and the contractors who kept the properties in shape. Her initial look at Denise’s spreadsheet and her working session with Joel had not given her a true appreciation for the size of the job. Joel managed all the units in the Lakeside Terrace row houses—several dozen—and another thirty rentals scattered around the marina and along the lakeshore. All were well maintained.

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