Not So Easy (The NOT Series Book 4)

Chapter 5

Calvin would not getout of my head. His assumptions were starting to hurt, which annoyed me even more. He and I had never been the best of friends, but I’d never acted too good for anyone. During the summer months, I’d practically lived with Bammy, and that had made me part of the neighborhood. The kids on that block were my friends. Maybe I should have done more to stay in touch, but we all grew up and moved on.

Or so I’d thought.

Right on time, I rushed into the hotel where I was meeting Becca and her clients. They were looking at this location and wanted advice on where they could capture the perfect images if this became their final choice.

Located in Station Square, the venue sat right on the river directly across from downtown, offering an amazing view across the water. The back wall of the bar area and the event room off of it were floor to ceiling glass to make the most of this feature.

That event room was where I found Becca and the happy couple. Brad and Wendy were young, beautiful, and madly in love. A hotel rep was pitching the space when I tapped Becca on the shoulder. “Hey,” I whispered when she turned my way.

“Hey,” she whispered back. Her eyes lacked their normal glow, and her cheeks, though rounder than ever, seemed pale.

At a pause in the sales pitch, Becca brought me into the conversation, introducing me to the hotel rep as Wendy gave me a hug in greeting. The bride-to-be then peppered me with questions and I made my recommendations, suggesting we head outside so I could show her potential picture locations for the big day. I took a couple using her phone, and she bounced with excitement when she saw how perfect the setting was.

When the hotel rep took them upstairs to see the guest rooms, Becca and I settled at a table in the bar.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Not that I expected a woman about to give birth to be full of energy, but the circles under her eyes were concerning.

With a sigh, she shrugged. “As good as I can be. The doctor says the baby is healthy, and that’s what matters, but I’d give anything for a full night’s sleep.”

Becca had a tendency to put herself last more than she should so as not to let anyone down. Back around the time she met Jacob, her boss had taken medical leave to deal with cancer, dropping the whole business in Becca’s lap. Toward the end of that week she’d fainted in the middle of a busy restaurant from stretching herself too thin. Thankfully, Jacob had been there to catch her.

“Maybe you should start your leave now. We need the baby and you to be healthy.”

“Amanda suggested that, but it’s not as if my job is strenuous. Besides, what would I do? Sit around twiddling my thumbs waiting for my water to break? Or for the doc to make the call early?”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what you should do. It’s not as if you’ll get any sleep once the baby is here, so you might as well take the time to rest now. Especially if your boss is telling you to go home.”

“Now you sound like Lindsey.”

“We’re just worried about you, hon. What does Jacob say?”

Her phone dinged and she checked the screen, then turned it my way. “He’s texting me twice an hour to see how I’m feeling.” The little box in the middle of the screen showed his name and the message Are you feeling okay? “He agrees with the rest of you,” she said, “but is leaving the decision up to me.”

She really was the most stubborn person I knew. Which was saying something considering most people thought I was the most stubborn person they knew.

Going for a compromise, I said, “What about taking half days? You’d still be working, just fewer hours.”

“That isn’t a bad idea,” she said while typing her husband a response. “The new planner Amanda hired over the winter is doing really well. She could probably take some of my appointments.”

“There you go.”

“And I would love to go home and take an afternoon nap.”

This was becoming an easier sell by the second. “You should do it. Do you have any more appointments today?”

She hit send and set the phone on the table. “I did but they cancelled this morning. A sweet woman wanted to discuss a retirement party for her mom, but the company got bought out, and then let her go before she could retire. Can you believe that?”

Thank goodness I was self-employed. “Wow. That’s awful.”

“I know.” Leaning back and rubbing her belly, she said, “Enough about me. Did you find a contractor yet?”

With all the baby talk, I’d forgotten to update the group chat. “I did. A guy from Bammy’s neighborhood. We knew each other when we were kids, and now he flips houses in the area.”

“Donna, that’s great. Will the work begin right away? When will you get to move in?”

“That’s a bit of an issue.”

“What?” She scooted back in her chair, trying to sit up straighter. “Why?”

Because I was an idiot, that was why. “Once I locked in the contractor, I gave notice on my apartment. Then I found out the job will take longer than I thought. I called the building manager to change my move-out date, but because there’s a waiting list to get into the building, she’d already promised the apartment to someone else.”

“Can’t she unpromise it?”

I wished. “Nope. The lease is signed.”

A waitress swung by to fill our water glasses. “What are you going to do?” Becca asked before offering a “Thank you” to the server.

“The only thing I can do. I’ll have to move into the house while it’s still being renovated.”

Her eyes went wide. “Can you do that?”

“Calvin promised me I’d have a working bathroom, which is all I really need. The main bedroom will get new floors, then I’ll do the painting myself, since it would cost extra to make the house painter come in early to do only one room.”

“Calvin is the contractor?”

“Yeah, Calvin Hopkins. He isn’t happy about me moving in, but there’s no other choice so he’ll have to deal with it.”

“You can always come stay with us,” she offered, clearly forgetting that their apartment was about to get quite crowded.

“You’re already getting a new little roommate. The last thing you need is me underfoot.”

“I’m sure one of the other girls will be happy to let you stay.”

They would. But Josie had Miles and Megan had Ryan, plus house hunting and wedding planning, and Lindsey was unapologetically messy. I wouldn’t make it one night without having to scour her house, and she’d have it just as messy within days.

There was also the fact that I was fiercely independent and saw no need to intrude on my friends when I had a whole house of my own. Would said house be in a livable condition? Debatable. But a roof over my head and a working bathroom would be enough, at least temporarily.

Also, I was looking forward to being in the middle of the project. Rationally, I knew I didn’t have the skills to do the physical labor, but I still needed to feel like I was part of the process. Like I could contribute more than pointing at a picture and saying, “I like that one.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’ll be fine. It’ll be fun to have a front row seat to watch the place come together.” I’d remind myself of this the first time some dude in a tool belt caught me in my bathrobe. “If all goes well, we’ll have a Friendsgiving dinner in my beautiful new home come November.”

This was my dream. To gather friends and family and bring life back to Bammy’s house. She had loved to entertain. Her greatest joy, other than her grandchildren, was to cook for anyone and everyone. My greens would never be as good as hers, but she’d been a patient teacher, and I still remembered most of the recipes that had been stored in her memory but never written down.

The summer after she passed, I put as many as I could into a notebook and intended to turn them into a family cookbook, but never got that far. Another Bammy project I needed to complete.

The couple returned with the hotel rep and Wendy was still bouncing. “This is it,” she said. “This is where we want to get married.”

Becca displayed all the enthusiasm she could manage. “Okay, then.” She turned to the rep. “You heard the bride. Lock us in for next June.”

I whipped out my phone to update the information in my calendar. “Still the second Saturday?” I asked.

“Yes.” The bride spun and gave her groom a quick kiss. “This is going to be everything we imagined.”

He chuckled. “I’m just glad we can mark venue off the list.” Nodding to Becca, he said, “When do we get to do the cake tasting? That’s what I’m looking forward to.”

She pushed her chair back and I helped her reach her feet. If I hadn’t been so close, I might have missed the muffled hiss that crossed her lips.

Rubbing her side, Becca smiled. “I can set that up for next week if you want. Let me check my calendar and give you a call to pick a time.”

Considering the lack of color in her cheeks and the way she looked ready to drop back into the chair, I had a funny feeling another event planner would be handling the taste test.

“Great.” The groom-to-be kissed his fiancée’s forehead. “I need to get back to work, and I know you’re dying to call the moms and tell them about this place.”

“Don’t forget about dinner at Mike and Margo’s,” she said as he hurried away. With a wave of acknowledgement, he disappeared around the corner and she turned to Becca. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Becca said. “Do you want to discuss the day more in detail, or save that for another time?”

Wendy leaned in and patted Becca’s hand. “We have over a year to deal with all of that. I’m more worried about you. If we need to do the cake thing after you’re back from maternity leave, that’s totally fine.”

Some people assumed that in mine and Becca’s line of work, we spent most of our time with selfish, demanding bridezillas, but there were far more clients like Wendy than the other. Caring and patient and great to work with.

Making a rare concession, Becca said, “I am a bit tired. But we have another planner in the office who can handle the tasting. You won’t have to put the planning on hold for me, I promise.”

Chestnut hair swayed as the bride-to-be shook her head. “No need for a new planner. I’m totally happy to wait. Besides, giving birth is much more important than planning a wedding. You’re literally growing a human. I’m just throwing a party.” Her laughter filled the air and I could have hugged her. “Just be sure to send me lots of pictures once the little guy is here. I’m in no hurry to have my own, but I love the ones I can coo over, then give back.”

My preferred baby encounters as well. Though I might make an exception for baby Noah. We’d all threatened to kidnapped him at one point or another. Not that Jacob would let us get far if we did. I’d never seen a happier expectant father in my life.

“I’m sure there will be days when I’m toting him around so I’ll make sure you get to meet him. If he doesn’t make his appearance soon, I’m afraid by body might go on strike. My bladder for sure.” With another hiss, Becca bent over and braced her hands on the table.

“Are you okay?” I asked, ready to catch her if she went down.

She nodded and reached back for the chair. Wendy and I stood on each side helping her ease onto the seat. “I’m convinced this child is going to be a star soccer player the way he kicks. Pretty sure that one was a kidney.”

Wendy slid Becca’s water glass closer. “Maybe you should drink something. Are you sure it was just a kick?” Looking at me, she asked, “Does this happen a lot?”

That’s when I realized I hadn’t seen Becca much lately, because I had no idea.

“A lot in the last week,” Becca said, shifting in the chair as if trying to get comfortable. That ship had clearly sailed. “If I eat something and put my feet up for a while, he should relax again.”

Gathering Becca’s things, I said to Wendy, “I’m going to pull my car up to the entrance. Can you get her out there so I can take her home?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want—” Becca started.

“No arguments, woman. You’re going home for the rest of the day. We’ll call Amanda and let her know.” Grabbing her purse, I slung both hers and mine over my shoulder. “I’m also calling Jacob so he knows what’s going on.”

She moaned. “If you tell him then he won’t let me move again until the baby is here.”

“That sounds like the right plan to me,” Wendy said.

While Becca pouted, I gave the younger woman an appreciative hug. “Thank you for your help, and for being so cool about the planning stuff.”

She waved my words away. “My cousin got married last year and was a complete nightmare about the whole thing. Then her husband moved out within three months of the wedding. Put things in perspective real quick.”

This. This is what I kept saying. What came after the wedding was so much more important than having the most expensive dress or the most lavish flowers.

Minutes later, Becca was in the car and we headed for the interstate. I made calls to both Amanda and Jacob along the way, while my passenger pouted that this was all unnecessary and that women had babies every day and that she was fine.

I ignored her while dialing up her mother. If anyone could make Becca stay on the couch for the rest of the day, it was Kathy Witherspoon.

“How arewe supposed to have a Sunday dinner without Mama’s potato salad?” Dad asked for the third time since I’d arrived empty-handed.

I repeated the same answer I’d given the first two times. “There was no time after the wedding yesterday. You’ll have it next time.”

He huffed, mostly to get under my skin. Dad was nothing if not an agitator.

As usual, Mom put out the full spread. Placemats, centerpiece, and the gold-trimmed plates. The settings were tasteful and understated for a formal gathering, but overkill for a casual family dinner.

“You had a wedding yesterday?” Mom asked.

“An evening one, yeah, but we started pictures in the afternoon.”

“Then you had all morning to make the salad,” Dad pointed out as Mom set the last bowl on the table and took her seat across from me. Her smooth hair pulled back in a clip showed off the burnt-orange tassel earrings that accentuated her long, slender neck.

I wish I could say I looked just like her, but that was not the case. Sadly. I inherited my looks from Dad’s side of the family, all curves and rounded edges, whereas Mom was more straight lines and elegance.

“Decisions needed to be made about the renovation so I was out most of the day.”

Calvin sent a text Saturday morning saying the flooring I’d picked was on backorder with no known delivery date. I could wait, which would push back getting my room done in time for me to move in, or I could choose a different floor. Since waiting wasn’t an option, I met him at the flooring place to make a new selection.

I’d be living with these floors for the rest of my life, so I wasn’t about to make a decision without considering all of the options. The slightest change in finish could look too orange in one light or too gray in another, and my first three selections were dismissed because they would also end up on backorder.

After that, Calvin made the salesperson—who happened to be another local from Bammy’s neighborhood—show us only the options we could get immediately. Thankfully, I fell in love with the second one he brought out, but that was more than an hour into the process. By the time we discussed paint colors, finishes, and more affordable replacements for some of the bathroom design, my morning was shot.

“I still can’t believe you bought that old, rundown house,” Mom said. “What were you thinking?”

“The house just needs a little work,” I said, ignoring the second part. We’d been through this before. Dad grew up in the house and, at times, seemed to get my attachment to it, but Mom never understood.

Face twisted in distaste, she said, “It’s so small.”

The home we were in—a sturdy three story in Dormont with large rooms, high ceilings, and a sizeable lot—was not the house I grew up in. It wasn’t until I was in high school that my parents were able to upgrade from the tiny, two-bedroom apartment in East Liberty—the part of town where Mom grew up—to this house. I’d spent less than a year here before going off to college.

“Small was good enough for us,” I reminded her. “And I’m adding on so there will more square footage when it’s done.”

Dad spooned a mound of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Adding on? That sounds expensive.”

The addition took up a large chunk of the budget, but would be worth the expense when I had my dream kitchen, and hopefully a new studio.

“Calvin has assured me that everything I want to do is possible within my budget.”

“Calvin?” Mom said. “Calvin who?”

I took the bowl of potatoes Dad passed my way. “Calvin Hopkins. He’s from the neighborhood and is the contractor on the project.”

“Evie Hopkins’ boy?” Dad asked. “Didn’t he always have a crush on you?”

“Really?” Mom said, suddenly more interested in the topic.

That I remained unmarried and without a family of my own was her greatest disappointment. A fact she stated repeatedly. You’d think she’d be proud that her daughter built a business out of nothing, but no.

I kept filling my plate. “No, he didn’t. In fact, we barely tolerated each other, but he’s the only contractor I could find willing to take the job.”

Dad shook his head. “Bammy said he used to come around asking for you all the time. Wanted to know when you were coming back for a stay. That boy liked you.”

I doubted that was the case.

“Is he from a good family?” Mom asked.

“Evie had her struggles.” Dad added a pile of greens next to his potatoes. “Last I heard, he was flipping a lot of the houses over that way. Bringing the neighborhood back to what it used to be. I suppose you could do worse than that boy.”

“He’s just my contractor,” I reiterated. “We don’t even like each other.”

“He’s single then?” Mom passed a roll to Dad before sliding the butter his way. “Is he handsome?”

Because I was a terrible liar, I said, “Yes, he’s handsome. If you like the hammer-swinging, overall-wearing type.”

Rolling straight into her plotting ways, Mom rubbed her hands together like an evil villain with a victim in her sights. “That sounds like husband material to me. Lord, give me a capable man any day.”

I expected Dad to take offense, since he could barely change a light bulb let alone replace a light fixture, but he was grinning my way. “You’ll need to spend a lot of time together for the next few months. Couldn’t hurt to see where things go.”

These two were delusional.

“It’s going to lead to Bammy’s house being renovated and me living in it alone. I will not be trying to turn Calvin, or any other man, into my husband, thank you very much. You guys need to let this go.”

“Why?” Mom asked, sounding hurt. “Why would getting married be so awful? Your Dad and I have been together since we were fifteen years old, and I wouldn’t change a single minute.”

Their marriage wasn’t perfect, and I knew for a fact that last claim wasn’t true. Not only had she broken up with Dad twice before they’d graduated high school, but she’d almost called off the wedding three times. Then there’d been that summer when Dad had stayed at Bammy’s for more than a month because Mom had kicked him out.

She wasn’t fooling anyone. Happily ever after was rare and never a smooth ride.

“I never said getting married would be awful. It just isn’t for me. I like my independence, and I have yet to meet a man who would actually make my life easier instead of harder. Men are needy and looking for mothers not wives. I’d rather stay single than deal with all that.”

Silence fell over the table as I scooped up a spoonful of etouffee. Mom’s family had moved up from southern Louisiana, and brought the region’s traditional dishes with them.

“That’s a bit harsh,” Dad finally said.

I glanced up when Mom stayed silent, and the look on her face said it all. I loved my dad, and he’d been a great father, but there were plenty of times when she probably felt as if she had two kids instead of one.

“When will the place be ready for you to move in?” she asked, dropping the husband subject.

“I’m moving in at the end of August, but the work won’t be done until around Halloween.”

“You’re moving in before it’s finished?” Dad asked.

Reaching for a roll, I nodded. “I have to. I thought the job would be done sooner so I gave notice on my apartment, then they gave it to someone else before I could ask for an extension.”

“You’ll be living in a construction zone,” Mom said. “I don’t know why you have to live there at all. Why don’t you rent that one out, and buy a house over here? There’s a cute one for sale two blocks down. Think of how nice it would be to live so close.”

Nice was not the word that came to mind. But also, how did she think I could afford to buy multiple houses? It took ten years to save up enough for the first one.

“I’m not renting out Bammy’s house. That’s my house. I’m going to live in it. The construction won’t last long, and then I’ll have exactly what I want in the place where I have the best memories.”

Mom and Dad exchanged a glance, hurt obvious in their expressions. I didn’t mean to hurt them. Things just were what they were. They’d both worked. I’d been alone. A lot. There had been…issues. No one is perfect and I didn’t hold a grudge, but Bammy’s is where I was happy. Where I wasn’t alone.

“I’m sure it’s going to be real nice,” Dad said with a gentle smile. “Can’t wait to see it.”

I nodded. “Me, too.”

Mom kept her eyes on her plate and stayed silent.