Chapter 7
John immediately wished he could take back the last thirty seconds of conversation with Lesley. Why did he tell her about his wife? Undoubtedly, she would now ask all sorts of questions. She seemed like that type of person. Nosy. She was a woman. They were all nosy.
The pure look of shock on her face made him avert his gaze back to his card. He didn’t want her pity, a shoulder to lean on, or an ear to listen. He didn’t want to talk about it. Period. Yet, it was his own damn fault, because he was the one who brought it up.
“Oh, John. I’m so sorry.”
“B-15.”
He placed a chip on the just-called number. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, I’m glad you did. What about your kids?”
He tapped the token against the Formica tabletop. “What about them?”
“N-32.”
He glanced over at her card. She wasn’t paying attention to what was being announced. Too busy prying into his business. He placed a few chips on the spaces that had been called, for distraction purposes more than anything.
“How are they coping?”
Her eyes held a softer gaze. She didn’t seem as guarded and closed off like she had been even earlier that morning. Genuine care shone in her expression. He stopped fidgeting. She was a stranger in town. Ultimately, his uncle had dumped him on her. She didn’t ask to be in his company any more than he had asked to be in hers, but here they were sharing pizza and playing Bingo together.
I do not want to like her.
“G-52.”
He swallowed. How much to tell her? “They’re doing better. It was rough at first, for all of us, but we’re making it. What about you?” he added quickly to avert the conversation from himself.
“What about me?” She pushed the pizza on her plate around with a fork.
Who eats pizza with a fork? “Any children? I’m guessing not since they aren’t here with you.”
“O-75.”
She glanced back at her card. “No.”
“Do you want kids?” He picked up another chip.
“I thought I did. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“Yeah?” He covered his O slot. “Why is that?” If he could keep the conversation on her, perhaps she would forget talking about him.
“I’ve never been around children much.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with them. I guess you could say, I’m not much of a kid person.”
“I-23.”
“So, now you don’t want kids?” He leaned over and checked her card. They each needed one spot and it was the same. B-3. His grip on the chip tensed as he bounced his leg under the table. The money could really help them both.
“B,” the announcer said.
John braced himself for the three to be called.
“Six. B-6.”
He let out a sigh and continued to tap his foot.
“Oh, I just don’t think I’m supposed to have any. I probably wouldn’t make a very good mother.”
Not make a good mother? She may be a little on the highfalutin’ side for him, but she wasn’t anything short of caring for those around her. “I disagree. I’ve seen how you treat Bea and Leo, and that lady at the pizza bar.”
“Oh, that’s different. They’re old.”
“Old, young, it doesn’t matter. People need compassion no matter the age.”
She gave a small smile, and that freckle by her mouth danced. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
His leg fidgeted now for a whole different reason.
A rustling into the microphone brought his attention back to the announcer.
“B-3.”
“Bingo.” He shot to his feet. “We’ve both got a Bingo.” John grabbed Lesley by the hand and pulled her up beside him.
“We do?” She squeezed his grip and stared down at her card. “We do,” she squealed and jumped beside him, her body hugging closer to his side.
He stared down at her, her excitement rubbing off on him until the man sitting at the table across from them made a loud booing gesture.
John narrowed his gaze at the old guy, although he could understand the man’s upset. This week’s jackpot was the largest it had been in months. Preppy’s pizza was okay, but giving away a thousand dollars proved a much better way to draw in a crowd.
“Let me check.” The manager walked over and examined their cards. “Yep, it’s a tie. You’ll have to split the winnings.”
Another gentleman threw a chip at him. The peg bounced off his head and rolled across the table.
“Ow.” He raised his free hand to his head.
“You okay?” Lesley asked.
Half of the patrons cheered, while the other half booed.
“Yeah,” he yelled over the noise. Pepperonis hurled at them like Frisbees as the largest geriatric food fight of the century commenced. “Let’s get out of here.”
Wrapping his arm around Lesley, he shielded her as they ran for cover and grabbed the mason jar of money on the way out the door. A gust of hot, steamy air hit him as his feet landed on the parking lot.
“Man. What was that in there? Are things always this exciting in Bakersville?” Her voice shook as she jogged next to him.
John clutched the jar under his arm and opened his truck’s passenger side door for her. “Not always, but Bingo is a serious sport here for all patrons over the age of sixty-five,” he said a little breathless. After she climbed in, he placed the jar on her lap and ran around to his side of the vehicle. “We better get out of here before they all come after us with their canes,” he teased as he cranked the ignition and backed out of the parking spot.
“I could see the man that chucked the chip at you ready to remove the tennis balls off the legs of his walker and practice his backhand on us.”
The singsong melody of her laughter filled his truck, and he found himself smiling back. “Yeah, he was pretty ticked.” He turned onto the street. “Where to now, the furniture shop? Ready to get yourself a good mattress and look at washing machines? You can use your winnings to help pay for them.”
“About that.” She fidgeted with the jar. “We need to talk.”
He stopped at the one and only traffic light in Bakersville then glanced at her. “About what?”
“Money. I thought the amount Aunt Myrtle left me was enough to cover any repairs the house would need and to get the bed and breakfast started, but now I’m not so sure. I didn’t know how bad of shape the house was in.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Well, then, yes, that’s something we need to talk about. I’ve been helping you clean the house today for two reasons. One, because I know you needed the extra hands, and two, because I’ve been studying the old boards and sheetrock as we’ve been de-cluttering. I’ve made a mental list, but I haven’t tallied everything yet. I’m thinking minimum cost of repairs is going to be in the one hundred thousand dollar range, like it says in the contract, and that’s basic. That’s no fancy fixtures or high end anything. How’s that price work for you?”
“Well.” She shook her head and stared down at the jar in her lap. “Not so good. That’s exactly the amount my aunt left me. One hundred thousand dollars to the penny, and I used some of that money boarding at the motel.”
His gut sank. If she didn’t have enough money to fix the place, then why was he wasting his time? And a motel? A lady of her caliber shouldn’t even know what a motel was, much less stay in one.
“You mentioned that earlier when your shirt ripped. What motel?”
Lesley glanced out the passenger side window. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
She was hiding something. John eyed the jar of money in her lap. An extra thousand dollars wouldn’t do her much good, but it was a start, and as much as he needed the cash in the short term, he needed the promise of this job more. And not just for the here and now—a home like the Rosalyn Manor would be the perfect showpiece for his portfolio, and a surefire way to land better contracts in the future—jobs that could pay his bills, and see to his children’s care.
He glanced over at her sitting in the passenger seat. Her hands had been manicured until that morning, before she hauled all sorts of nasty things, and yet the entire time, she never complained. The nickname “princess” didn’t really suit her after all, at least, not in a negative context. He also noticed her shoulders slumped forward. Apparently, she didn’t like his prying any more than he’d liked hers.
Shit.
John had just turned the corner by his sister’s bakeshop when an idea came to him. If she really was cuckoo like her aunt, then this could be a bad idea. But crazy didn’t suit her anymore either.
Lonely was a better word choice.
“You liked those muffins my sister made, didn’t you?”
“Yes, they were delicious. Why?” She raised an eyebrow.
He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. “I’ve lived in this town my whole life. I’ve got a lot of friends here. What do you say to asking and seeing if some of the townspeople wouldn’t mind pitching in and giving us a hand?”
“A hand how?”
“With building the manor.”
She pulled her shoulders back and sat up a little straighter. “I had wondered if some of them wouldn’t mind donating a few things for the manor, you know, to promote their own businesses, but I’d never thought about physical labor. Do you think they would?”
“I do, as long as you boast their shops in return whenever you have guests finally lodging there.”
“Oh, I would.” She nodded, and then cocked her head. “But, you would do that? Ask your friends to pitch in and help?”
He couldn’t say he blamed her skepticism. He hadn’t been the nicest guy in the short time they’d known each other, and he was willing to admit that his first impression of her seemed to be completely inaccurate. This lady needed help and a friend or two. But even if he did show her friendship, he wouldn’t do the asking for her—to make this work in her favor, she would have to do that on her own.
“Nope, I won’t ask, but you will.” He made a U-turn and drove back to the bakeshop.
“What are we doing?” She gripped the door for balance. “The furniture store is two buildings that way.” She pointed toward Hank’s Furniture.
“We’re going to start asking for that help you need. First up, my sister’s bakeshop. She can use a nail gun better than anybody I’ve ever seen. Then, Monday night, there’s a town meeting. You’ll ask for support there as well.”
“John, I couldn’t.” Her eyes widened, and a look of fear crossed her features. “I don’t know anyone.”
What happened to that assertive demeanor he saw earlier? He wanted that back. Confidence looked much better on her than insecurity.
“Sure you can. No better way to get to know them than talking to them yourself.” He beamed a smile at her. “Besides, I’ll be there with you.”
“What if…what if they say no?”
“Then they say no, and you get a job waiting tables, but it’s worth a shot.”
They wouldn’t say no. His town always rose to an occasion. It was the Bakersville way, and if she stuck around long enough, she would learn that. Bakersvillians helped each other out, just like he was helping her now.
“Okay.” She nodded and met his gaze, some of her confidence resurfacing. “I’ll ask, but only if you promise you’ll be there with me.”
“Promise, princess.”
Everyone needed help from time to time. He knew that better than anyone.