Chapter Six
J osie was at the design firm, pricing out windows for Neil when her phone rang. It was Rye, and he rarely called during the workday, so she took the call, hoping it wasn’t about Jasper. He’d been doing well lately—so well that he’d expressed interest in taking classes at Gallatin College and working toward an economics degree.
“Hi,” she said to Rye. “Everything okay at home?”
“Everything’s fine. I normally wouldn’t bother you at work, but I saw a house this morning that I thought might be good for Bear, but you know about accessibility better than me—”
“That’s not true.”
“Well, you know how to make a handicap accessible home look good, and this one doesn’t.”
“Ah.”
“The house is in Marietta, one street off Bramble. To put it bluntly, the house is a little depressing, but the last person to live there was in a wheelchair and there is a ramp, a big kitchen, and a bathroom that would work for him. Doors are wide enough, light switches were lowered, doors feature handles not knobs.”
“How do you know so much about it?”
“The realtor asked me for a quote on how much a new roof would cost, and he decided to go with my bid. We start work Monday.”
“Is the house going on the market then?”
“The owner can’t afford for the house to just sit there, so she’s open to a yearlong lease, or a purchase offer.”
The long lease would appeal to Bear. “Is anyone living there now?”
“No. It’s been vacant for months, and there’s been no offer.”
“Priced too high?”
“Not for the neighborhood, but for the condition. It’s the ugly house on the street, and it wouldn’t take a lot for the seller to spruce up the front, but she’s only going to pay for the roof and that’s it.”
“Is the roof that bad?”
“It’s why there’s been so much water damage.”
“Has that been addressed?”
“No, but we will be next week. Should be sunny and dry for the next month. We’ll get the roof off and replace all the rotted wood, beams, and so on.”
“That bad?”
“Let’s just say someone decided it was cheaper, and easier, to put buckets under leaks than to fix the problem.”
“Does the interior smell funky?”
“Fortunately, no. But the interior is going to need fresh paint, and some decent furniture—and fixtures—would help.”
Josie glanced at the clock on her laptop. “I’d like to swing by and see the house. Do I need to call the realtor?”
“Nope. I have a key.”
“I need to finish these numbers for Neil, but I could probably be there after lunch. Would one or one thirty work for you?”
“I’m just working down the street so call when you’re close and I’ll drive over and meet you.” Rye rattled off the address and then said goodbye.
Josie set her phone down and leaned back in her chair, looking across the office, taking in the window, the framed awards on the wall, and the conference desk and chairs on the opposite side for team meetings.
Marietta wouldn’t be a bad place for Bear. In fact, it’d be a really good place for him. He’d be close to downtown, right in the thick of things. The house didn’t sound very appealing at the moment, but if the bones were there, and basic accessibility, she could do some quick touchups and inexpensively improve the aesthetics.
Maybe this was what he needed. Not just a place to be during the remodel of his house, but society. Company. Activity.
*
Two hours later, Josie stood outside an uninspiring beige house, with the same faded beige trim. The house had probably been built between the 1940s and 1950s. A home without bells and whistles and fancy detail. She suspected this house had replaced an older turn of the century home, or maybe someone had subdivided their lot and built this to fill the lot.
Rye had been right about the lack of curb appeal, but curb appeal was one of the easiest things to fix, in her opinion. Plants would help. Maybe some window boxes. Nothing was green in the front, and the long sloping ramp needed paint as much as the windows. But the driveway’s asphalt had been recently repaved, and the sidewalk to the front door only had a minor crack.
Rye pulled up in his truck as she was still taking inventory.
He parked in front of the house next to the curb and stepped out. “She’s not much to look at,” he said. “But it’s solid, and except for the roof, and replacing the damaged drywall and wood in the back bedroom where the leak was, the house has possibilities.”
“Kitchen and bath, too?”
“Let’s just let you walk through.” He unlocked the front door, pushed it open, and Josie followed him inside.
It was a warm day, but the interior was dark and cool. As her brother shut the door behind them, he switched on the lights, revealing a decent-sized living room with heavily curtained windows.
“You see the doorways are wide, and the hallway itself is wide, so there’s no problem for Bear’s wheelchair,” Rye said as they walked from the living room to the dining room.
The dining area was a slightly smaller space in the living area but with ample room for a decent size table and chairs—and room for Bear, too. No one in a wheelchair wanted to be bumping against things, and Bear would want plenty of room to be able to turn corners and navigate the furniture. “A round table in here would be perfect,” she said. “Bear could just roll right under it, and it’d still feel spacious in here.”
“Check out the table in the kitchen,” Rye said, leading the way into the kitchen.
The kitchen doorway had been widened in the past ten or fifteen years, the swinging door removed. There were scuff marks on the door frame but nothing that couldn’t be covered by a little paint.
Like the house, the kitchen was designed for practicality, the old counters covered in laminate, and the cupboards looked like the original, painted a very pale baby blue. The stainless sink was divided in half. The faucets had watermarks but worked fine. The stove had seen better days, but the burners turned on. The white refrigerator worked, too, the interior cold.
Josie spied the old-fashioned booth in the corner, beneath the corner windows. The bench was u-shaped, and the table a rounded rectangle, with plenty of space at the end for Bear’s wheelchair.
“He can prep here,” Josie said, turning to face her brother.
“Or eat here, have his coffee here, whatever,” Rye agreed.
“The only change I’d suggest is opening the space under the sink. Obviously, if Bear wanted to spend the money he could get new appliances, but everything seems to work.”
“Just needs some freshening up. Paint and such.”
“What about the bedroom and bathroom?”
“Not pretty, but utilitarian and it functions. Bear would probably want to change up the showerhead. Its old and there are a lot of good ones available that don’t cost a fortune.”
“Is it a roll-in shower then?”
“Someone tried to create a roll-in shower, but the tiles are lifting and there’s some water damage. I suspect it wasn’t sealed right. It might require some work but shouldn’t be too bad. If Bear is interested in the house, I’d ask Richard, my plumber, to come in and have a look.”
“It’s as you said, functional but not attractive.”
“Well, that’s what you do, right? Style on a shoestring?”
“Since he’s renting, yes. If he were to buy it, I’d suggest bigger changes.”
Rye nodded. “He might want to buy down the road.”
“I’ll reach out to Bear and see if he can meet me here.”
Josie not one to procrastinate, phoned Bear even before Rye had returned to his truck. Bear didn’t answer though, and disappointed, she left him a voicemail message. She was trying to decide if she should head back to Bozeman or wait a bit when he returned her call.
“Hi,” Bear said. “I was on another call.”
“No problem.” She cleared her throat. “I’m in Marietta. I just saw a rental house that might work for you. Well, Rye saw it first and then asked me to come over as he wanted my opinion.”
“You think I’d like it?”
“Well… there’s potential.
“That doesn’t sound encouraging.”
“It’s not a lot to look at now, but with a couple of changes, it could work well for you, and based on what I’m seeing, I’m sure the rent is affordable.”
“Where in Marietta?”
“Almost downtown Marietta, just a few blocks off of Main Street. My brother was hired to reroof it, and once he saw the house, he thought of you wanting a smaller, more accessible place. I’ve got the key. Want to come see it?”
“Now?”
“If you’re free. Otherwise, we can make it work for another time this week—”
“No, today is good. I can be there in less than an hour.”
“I’ll text you the address.”
She sent the address and then messaged her brother. “Bear is on his way, I’ll let you know what he thinks.”
*
Bear had been poker-faced throughout the brief house tour. He obviously didn’t love it, but he also didn’t come out and say he hated it, either. He just maintained that blank, impossible to read expression.
“Well?” she said as they returned to the living room. “Thoughts?”
“How far is Bozeman from here?”
“Thirty to forty, depending on where you’re going—and snow and traffic. But if conditions are good, thirty.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “And why would I want to live in Marietta?”
“Because there are people nearby. And fun things to do here.” She paused. “Have you looked at any commercial spaces here?”
“Not yet, but I did see something that looked interesting. The building is owned by Cormac Sheenan, brother to my friend, Dillion.”
She lifted a brow. “That could be promising. When are you going to see it?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“Why not today?”
“I don’t have an appointment.”
“That might not be an issue. Call and see if someone can show you around. Why not? Tell them you’re here now.”
Bear’s lips twitched as he fought a smile. “Do you ever rest?”
Josie thought a moment and then, grinning, she shook her head. “No.”
He laughed and pulled out his phone. “At least you’re honest.”
*
The Farrell Building was one of the older properties in downtown Marietta, just off Main Street, behind the sheriff’s department. The building, one hundred years old, featured red brick and sturdy stone masonry, along with a decorative cornice with the number 1910, proclaiming its age. The large two-story building had served many functions over the past century, with retail and sales on the first floor, and apartments and offices for Montana’s growing business class on the second floor.
Unfortunately, a fire gutted most of the second floor in the Farrell Building ten years ago, and Cormac Sheenan had cleared out the debris when he bought it but hadn’t done much else. He was there to walk Beae and Josie around the ground floor as the realtor wasn’t available, but he seemed eager to see the Farrell Building be put to good use again.
“I bought the Farrell eight years ago,” he said. “It was my intention to use this as an extension for my media business, but there were some delays, and then Covid, and by the time the world had returned to a normal, I discovered that my company didn’t need all the office space we’d initially thought was so essential.”
“Your employees liked working from home?” Josie guessed.
“Loved it,” he answered with a laugh. “But then, I did, too.”
“And so the building has just sat here for years?” Bear asked as they returned to the entrance, which had probably once been stately glass doors but were now boarded over like the other narrow windows on the side facing the street. The opposite side of the interior had no windows as it was snugly attached to another larger, turn-of-the-century building.
Cormac nodded. “I own the whole block, but the office building next door is currently leased for another five years.”
“Good, because I only need the one building,” Bear said, “and this is pretty perfect, but it’s going to come down to the terms.”
“I understand.” Cormac hesitated. “Put an offer in, and let’s see what we can do. I’d like this to work. I support what you want to do.”
Bear shook his hand and then, as Cormac opened the door, wheeled out with Josie at his side.
She’d been unusually quiet during the half hour spent exploring the Farrell Building and Bear was curious to get her thoughts now. “Have time for a coffee?” he asked.
She nodded. “An iced one,” she said. “It was hot in there.”
“It was warm,” he agreed. “I have a feeling there’s no air conditioning.”
They walked the three blocks to Java Café, and it was relatively empty as it was four o’clock now and nearing the end of the business day.
“What did you think?” he asked as they settled at a table with their beverages.
“It’s a big building.”
“I know, but I liked that. I could see dividing the space into private offices at the back, with the front being the facility for the clients.”
“You’d have to offer plenty of accessible bathrooms and those would eat up space.”
“How many do you think are necessary?”
“It depends on how many clients would be training at the same time, but you might want two large private bathrooms, plus an additional private bathroom with a shower. Just in case.”
Not following, he lifted a brow and then understood what she was saying. “That’s probably smart. Accidents happen.”
“Someone might also need to go straight to another appointment, and I imagine it would be easier to shower here than go home, clean up, and head out again.”
“Maybe two regular bathrooms, and two bathrooms with showers,” he said.
“Or one regular accessible bathroom, and two accessible with showers.”
“Would you be interested in being the designer?”
“For my design projects for school?”
“For projects for school and as a job. I’d pay you—”
“I’m not supposed to take paid outside work. Its part of my contract with the design firm. I can do jobs that meet the requirements of my school projects.”
“We don’t have to tell anyone.”
“Yes, we would, including the government. I pay my taxes, Mr. Anderson.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “I do, too. But I’d love to have you work with me on this, and my house—”
“You don’t have either, yet.”
“I will soon,” he said confidently. “It’s just a matter of getting the numbers to line up, and they will. Now, will my house and the SCI facility work for your projects? What is the criteria?”
“It can be residential or commercial, or both. The objective is to create a universal space in each, with strong, commercially appealing design elements.” She smiled, expression hopeful. “I would love to work on both your projects. I love that they’re different from the other. It’s pretty exciting.”
“It is,” he agreed.
“But you don’t have an agreement for either one, so I don’t want to get excited only to be disappointed.”
“The house isn’t an issue. It’s very plain which makes it very affordable,” Bear said dryly. “I’ll have Rye send me the owner’s info tonight and get that one squared away.”
Josie frowned. “But if it’s a rental property, do you really want to put money into it? The owner is the one who’d benefit—not you.”
“I’d benefit. I’d be living in a considerably more stylish home.”
“And have nothing to show for it after a year.” She hesitated. “I don’t know your financial situation, but if you were able to get someone to lease the ranch property, could you afford to buy the house? Perhaps finance the Farrell Building and get a mortgage for the house? Or, depending on your situation, buy the house for cash and it might be easier to get a better mortgage for the commercial space.
“How did you become so knowledgable? And practical?”
“I’ve loved houses since I was a little girl, and then I spent far too much time eavesdropping on Mom and Dad’s depressing conversations about money, and the lack of it.” She smiled grimly. “But I learned a lot, and I’m a big believer in smart, stylish, affordable design.”
“Which fits my budget. So, are you in? Want the job?”
“Yes.” She showed him her fingers, which were crossed. “Provided my advisor says yes, and I can’t imagine she wouldn’t.”
“Keep me posted,” he said.
“You, too. I’ll be dying to know how all of this plays out.”
*
In the end, it was Rye who called and told Josie that Cormac had accepted Bear’s offer for the Farrell Building after a minimal back and forth, and that Bear was also the proud owner of a 1948 house a block from the grand Bramble House.
“You mean, he’s leased the house?” she asked, confused by Rye’s wording.
“No, Bear bought it, and because he was paying cash, he got a great deal. As well as the new roof the previous owner had just paid for.”
“That is pretty sweet,” she agreed, still trying to process her brother’s news though. “So just to be clear… Bear got both properties?”
“Yes. In the same week.”
For a moment, she couldn’t think of anything to say. When Bear took action, he took action.
“Are you still there?” Rye asked.
“I’m just stunned. A couple weeks ago, Bear didn’t know where he was going to open his first location, or where he’d be living, and now he’s invested in the Marietta community.”
“I think it’s a good place for him,” Rye said.
“I do, too. Now, I just need to get that final approval and I can get to work on both projects. You do know that Bear asked me to oversee the design for both.”
“I’m not surprised. He obviously respects you.”
Josie blushed, her face hot. She was glad her brother couldn’t see. “The feeling’s mutual,” she said lightly.
“You know, if you’re going to be working a lot in Marietta, and it sounds like you will, you’re always welcome to stay over with Ansley and me. We’d love to see more of you.”
“I’d love to. It’d be fun to get to know Marietta better.”
“I have a feeling you’ll soon know the town a lot better.”
After hanging up, Josie flopped back on her little loveseat in the little sitting area of her studio. So, Bear was now the proud owner of a house and a very desirable commercial building—well, eventually it’d be desirable. Neither place was exactly a dream at the moment, but she could see his vision and she was excited to work with him on both.
As well as excited to spend more time with him.
She loved being around him, and even though she’d tried so hard to analyze her feelings, she couldn’t. Why was she so invested? There was no reason for her to care this much.
She didn’t know if it was the fact that he was a legend in Montana or that he’d been a world-class athlete before he’d been hurt.
She didn’t know if it was because he was incredibly attractive, truly one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen in real life, or because he’d once had so much and now, he was confronted by permanent limitations, never mind other people’s narrow opinions.
She suspected it was a little of everything, because she did find his situation tragic. The knowledge that he’d been so badly hurt, and was fighting so hard to reclaim his life, touched her, moved her.
Her mother would say it’s because Josie had such a tender heart, but it was more than that.
Her feelings weren’t platonic. She was attracted to Bear and had begun to spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about kissing him and being kissed by him. He’d be a good kisser. She was sure of that. She lightly touched her fingertips to her lips, her upper one so sensitive that her belly clenched.
Bear had said he couldn’t have children, but did that mean he couldn’t have sex? Did it mean he wouldn’t enjoy making out or foreplay?
On one hand, it wasn’t any of her business, but on the other, she was curious. And hopeful. Hopeful that one day he might feel a little of what she felt for him.
Some people might not be comfortable with Bear’s paralysis, but it didn’t seem strange to her. Her brother had been born with a birth defect that changed his life. Her father, a tough, tough man, broke his back by falling off a roof. Both people were wonderful people. Both had physical challenges, but it didn’t change who they were.
Bear just felt like her person. Like hers.
Josie wished she could talk to someone about it, and thought briefly of her sister Hannah, but Hannah could be rather ruthless. She was practical to the extreme. Having had enough of poverty growing up, she was dating an older man—an unattractive older man—because he had money.
Hannah denied it. She said she loved him. But the rest of the family found it hard to believe. Hannah was stunning—could easily pass for a model—and so why would she be with an older, plump, balding man when she could probably have anyone?
No, Hannah wasn’t the one to talk to. Josie and Hannah were nothing alike. Hannah was pure ambition and Josie far too tenderhearted with an overwhelming need for justice.
Josie’s mom used to lecture her about being so sensitive. She shouldn’t be drawn to the heartbreaking stories, or feel compelled to do something for everyone, but Josie did. She always had. Even as a little girl, she’d wanted to help those in their community who needed more—more support, more kindness, more respect.
Growing up, she was always doing one fundraiser or another, collecting bottles and cans, volunteering, writing letters and making calls—even showing up at city hall to talk to whoever was in charge.
Josie had never felt self-conscious about any of it. Nor had it ever crossed her mind that she shouldn’t, not even when one of the city councilmen she’d had approached—a car dealer with a car lot not far from Calhoun Roofing—and said she was following up on the donation she’d written him a letter about. When Mr. Clark said he didn’t get a letter, she pulled another one from her notebook and handed it to him to read.
She watched him as he read her carefully printed letter, and then came to the end and looked up at her. “You’re a Calhoun.”
She nodded.
He chuckled, there really was no other word for it, and shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be doing this for your own family? Seems like your dad needs more help than anyone else in this town.”
Josie stood there, twelve-turning-thirteen and full of anger and disappointment. If he’d hoped to embarrass her, he’d failed. She felt embarrassed for him—and terribly disappointed. Disappointed that someone who was in a position of power, a person who could easily do something, would instead choose to make fun of her dad. It wasn’t hard to help. It wasn’t hard to give. He could have just donated a dollar. Five dollars. It wasn’t even the amount of money. It was his attitude. His air of superiority. And so, she stared him down, smiling just a little bit, smiling because he with his money and car dealership and position on the city council was not even half as good of a human being as her dad.
“You could have just said no,” she said, smiling a little bigger. “You could have said it wasn’t a good time for you to give. You didn’t have to make fun of him, especially as he’s the first to give when someone needs help. He always has been. And I’d rather be like him then ever be like you.”
She walked out of his little office in the small city hall and marched down the steps, back stiff, head high, even as her heart raced and her legs quivered. She was still unlocking her bike when a woman came rushing out of the brick building, her pink heels clattering on the sidewalk.
“You’re doing a good thing,” she said breathlessly, thrusting a twenty-dollar bill at Josie. “And don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise.
“And you’re right about your dad. He’s a good man. He always was the first to help everyone. You’re right to be proud of him. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel small.” She patted her chest and then her middle. “People like to make other people feel bad about themselves. But God loves us no matter our size, no matter our talents. Just remember that when someone is hurtful. Keep doing God’s work.”
“Not really trying to do God’s work,” Josie said. Her family wasn’t particularly big on church, not anymore. They’d gone fairly regularly when she been younger but that had all ended after her dad’s accident. “I’m just doing what everyone should do. Care about your neighbor.”
“That’s right. That’s exactly right. Love thy neighbor.” The woman turned and returned to the building, hustling again. Heels clacking, her pink and purple dress the only bright color on a dreary spring day.
Josie rode her bike to the roofing office not sure if Rye would be there or out on a jobsite. But he was there, working away on his laptop and making notes on a pad of paper. He smiled at her as she approached his desk. “Already done with your homework?” he asked.
She shook her head, exasperated. “It’s spring break, Rye. There’s no school this week.”
“Heading to the library then?”
“No. I’ve been trying to get donations.”
“For who this time?”
“The animal shelter. They just took in a bunch of cats and kittens. They have to spay and neuter and microchip and stuff like that so the kittens could be adopted.”
He set down his pen. “Josie, you don’t have to do everything.”
“Not doing everything. I’m just trying to help a little bit.”
“You know, Jo-Jo, you can’t save everyone.”
She shrugged. “But I can try.”
Swallowing hard, Josie pushed away the memory and rolled off the little couch in her studio apartment. The memory had made her sad. Maybe sad wasn’t the right word. Maybe she just felt… conflicted. She knew she was a little bit different from others, but it was a good thing. Not everyone was supposed to be the same.