Chapter Seven
Carter
Will graham crackers and some milk be enough of a distraction while I give Kenna the tour? Here’s hoping. Christian looks like he’s about to go to his room and tackle his homework, so I catch him before he rounds the corner.
“Hey, bud. Do you mind sitting in the kitchen with Amelia for a minute while I show Kenna something downstairs?” I turn to Kenna. “If that’s okay with you.”
Kenna nods and walks over to the table, cupping Amelia’s chin in her hand. “Be sure to clean up your crumbs, okay?” Then she kisses her on the head. “I’ll be right back.”
I don’t miss how Christian studies me as I show Kenna to the basement door. I’m sure he’s wondering what’s going on. Usually the only time he sees me heading to the basement is to do laundry or get tools. Shit, am I about to ruin the surprise?
I shut the door to the basement once we’re through, and Kenna looks at it like she might already regret being here.
“So the kids can’t hear us talking,” I say. “I mean, I can open it if you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” she says, even though I can sense her hesitation.
“Okay, well, let me give you the five-cent tour then.” I walk down the stairs ahead of her. At the bottom, I turn on all the lights and wave an arm around. “It’s not much, but it’s clean. And it’s safe.”
Her eyes sweep the room. “It’s… not what I expected.”
I shrug. “Sorry. It’s geared toward teenage boy.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She walks over to the kitchen area, which is more like a wet bar with a mini-fridge and microwave.
Turning back, she surveys the living room, which has a couch, a gaming chair, a fifty-inch wall-mounted TV, and a coffee table I made out of random car parts.
To the right are glass French doors leading to the back yard and side driveway.
“I envisioned a dusty basement full of second-hand furniture.” She touches the coffee table. “This is… wow. Did you make this?”
I nod, happy that she seems impressed.
She points to a closed door. “Is the bedroom through there?”
“That’s the laundry room.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassure her. “I won’t bother you. I can probably go a while without needing to do laundry.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” She eyes my Cruz-In Auto Repair Shop shirt. “I’m sure you get dirty doing what you do all day.”
“I have a lot more where this came from.”
“You have a teenage boy, Carter. Surely you’ll need to wash clothes. You said it could be up to ten days.”
“I’m sure we could work something out. I could do it when you’re out and about.”
She scoffs. “I’m not sure I will ever be out and about. We like to keep to ourselves.”
More alarm bells chime in my head. Why would she not want to leave? It feels like it’s about more than not knowing the area. It’s like she doesn’t want them to be seen in public. And it makes me all the more adamant about having them stay here rather than some random motel.
“Oh, well, in case you did want to get out, there’s a great park and playground by the roundabout, right across from the coffee shop.” I point left. “And the bedroom is there, and that’s the bathroom.”
I follow her into the bedroom. A queen-size bed is in the middle of the room. There are two nightstands I also made by hand that are similar to the coffee table.
She notices immediately, walking over to run a finger across the top of one. “You’re pretty talented.”
“Thanks,” I preen. “I know it only has one bed. Maybe we could find an air mattress or something for Amelia. Or we could make up the couch.”
She shrugs, peeks into the bathroom, then walks back to the middle of the living room, taking it all in. “How long have you been working at this?”
I think on it. “Years, I guess. It’s kind of become my side hobby, fixing it up.
And so you know, there are a lot of second-hand things.
The TV was my neighbor’s. The microwave and mini-fridge came from the shop when we upgraded ours last year.
And the kitchen table and couch came from my cousin, Hawk McQuaid. ”
“Ah, a descendant of the famous Lloyd.”
I raise a brow. “So you were listening.”
She smiles as she takes it all in again. “I don’t know a kid alive who wouldn’t absolutely love this. It’s an amazing space.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay?”
She stares outside for a moment, then walks to the French doors, checking out the lock. She bites the inside of her cheek, looking deep in thought, and goes back over to the bottom of the stairs, looking up. She sighs big time, like maybe she’s found a reason not to stay.
When it occurs to me that she looked very interested in the door lock, I realize what’s happening. There isn’t a lock on the door to the kitchen. And that worries her.
“I have a chain around here somewhere. I’ll install it today.”
She looks around the place one more time. I swear she’s about to turn it down. And the thought of her and Amelia having to go to some fleabag motel that rents rooms by the hour does not sit well with me. It infuriates me.
Do something, I scream in my head. Say something.
I blurt, “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.”
She stares at me for a long beat, jaw slack. “Oh, the Places You’ll Go,” she says, grinning. “My favorite.” She shakes her head. “How can I say no to a man who quotes Dr. Seuss? But I’m paying rent.”
“Not necessary. It’s just sitting here vacant.”
“Carter.” Her hands rest on her hips in protest. “I’m not doing this unless you let me pay. Two hundred dollars a night? I’ll pay cash.”
Now my jaw is slack. If she stayed for ten days, that would be two thousand dollars. Cash. If she can afford that, why in the hell would she even be considering staying here? I’m hella confused.
“It’s not the Waldorf Astoria,” I say. “Two hundred is a bit steep.”
“Rooms at the Waldorf start at over nine hundred per night.”
How in the hell does she know that? Something just isn’t adding up here.
“Okay, listen, if you insist on paying, I won’t fight you, but how about fifty? And that will include food.”
She guffaws. “You’re not going to cook for me, Carter. We’ll make our own food. And I won’t give you a penny less than a hundred.”
Why do I get the feeling this woman always gets her way?
But then that feeling of unease creeps in.
All her ‘things’ are in her car. She was leaving New York for good.
She doesn’t have ID or credit cards. Maybe she never gets her way.
Maybe this woman is one of the unluckiest people alive and now her car is smashed and she just needs something to go right for a change.
I extend my hand to her. “Deal.”
She smiles and sighs a relieved breath before shaking my hand. When our palms meet, there’s that same electricity that was there before. This time, however, she pulls away quickly, like maybe that spark scares her. Because I’m basically her landlord now.
“What’ll you tell Christian?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t want to lie to him. We’ve always been honest with each other.”
“Honest?” She giggles loudly. “Carter? I hate to break it to you, but Bug is way more than Christian’s best friend.”
I sit heavily on the arm of the couch. “Yeah, I know. But don’t tell him that. I’m not quite sure why they’re trying to keep it under wraps. Probably because Bug lives right next door and they don’t want us policing their every move.”
“Is her dad strict?”
“Asher? No. He’s cool. I think her stepmom, Allie, is more protective of her than he is. You should meet her. I think you’d get along great.”
She shakes her head. “We’re only here for a week. What would be the point?”
“I’m just saying, even a week or ten days can drag on if you have nothing to do.”
“Who says I have nothing to do?”
I cock my head. “Do you work from home?”
“Something like that.”
This woman. She sure does keep her cards close to the vest. But then I think about the hours we talked earlier.
How she told me about her childhood and her mom.
Her overprotective dad. But other than mentioning her ex, and how he isn’t Amelia’s father, she didn’t say a single word about either man.
Could one of them be the reason her car is full of all her worldly belongings?
Her belongings. Shit. She’s going to need them.
“Hey, I should head back to the shop for a few hours.” I motion to the bedroom.
“Those sheets have been on the bed for months. I’m not even sure why I made it up.
You’ll want to wash them, and the bath towels too.
Feel free to use the kitchen upstairs while I’m gone.
Christian shouldn’t be a bother. And I promise to install that lock on the door as soon as I’m back.
” I walk to the stairs. “Guess we should go tell the kids.”
I can hear Amelia and Christian laughing before I open the door. When we walk through, I can see why. They’ve taken to building a house of graham crackers. And there are broken pieces and crumbs all over the table and floor.
Kenna is horrified as she rushes forward. “I am so sorry,” she says, worry and guilt battling in her expression, as if maybe I’ll rescind the offer because her kid is so messy.
“It’s not her fault, Mrs. Bennett. It was my idea.”
“Seriously, Christian, call me Kenna. After all, I’m only nine years older than you are.”
“You’re twenty-four? Cool. My dad is thirty-two. At least that makes you closer to his age than mine.”
Kenna blushes profusely. “Uh… yeah, I guess it does.” She sweeps the crumbs from the table into her hand, throws them in the trash, and asks, “Where do you keep the broom?”
Christian waves her off, unaware that his comment embarrassed her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up.”
Kenna regards his crutches leaning against the table.
“Don’t let those fool you,” Christian adds. “Believe me, I do most of the chores around here.”
“Most?” I say dramatically. “Son, you make me out to be a drill sergeant.”
Christian laughs. “Sorry, Dad.”
“Some chores,” I say. “He does some chores around here.”
“So, are Kenna and Amelia going to be staying in the basement?”
My eyes go wide at Christian’s question.
“Come on, Dad. Did you really think I didn’t know about it?”
I pull out the chair next to him and sit. “You know?”
“Last year, I wanted to get in some practice walking up and down stairs, because… well, I just did.” He shrugs sheepishly.
“I was going to ask you about the furniture and stuff, but then I noticed the pictures of cars and the poster of my favorite band on the wall and… Well, I kinda figured out that you were fixing it up for me.”
“You’ve known for a year? And you didn’t say anything?”
“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. When was this whole thing going to happen anyway? And I thought you hated me using stairs.”
“I was thinking senior year. And I’ve been searching for a stair lift.”
“Nice. I can’t wait. It’s really great, Dad. And those tables. They’re pretty dope.”
“Dope?”
“Awesome. Cool. Nice.”
“I know what dope means, son. I’m thirty-two, not a hundred. I’ve just never heard you say it. I’ve heard Bug say it. Maybe you’ve been spending too much time with her,” I tease.
“Stop it,” Kenna whispers, elbowing me in the back.
She’s on his side, and I think that makes me like her even more.
“So the stairs,” I say, curious. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Darla’s room being over the garage and her having her own private entrance, does it? Because I have it on good authority that Asher bolted her outside entrance shut the day they moved in.”
Christian’s eyes roll behind his thick glasses. “I know it’s sealed shut. I just thought it was good PT.”
“What’s PT?” Amelia asks, licking crumbs off her fingers.
“Physical therapy,” he explains. “When you have weak, wobbly legs like mine, you have to do exercises to help them. I have a cool stationary bike in my room. And I go swimming at the community center a few times a week. But in the summer, I get to use Bug’s pool.
Which is cool because Dad doesn’t have to drive me all the way to White Plains, which is a total pain in the neck. Right, Dad?”
I shake my head. “It’s not a pain in the neck, Christian. I’m always happy to do it.”
“He’s the best,” he says to Kenna, thumbing at me. “I don’t know any other parent who doesn’t complain about all the places they have to take their kid. He drives carpool, picks me up from practices, drives me to and from PT. I really don’t know how one person does it all by themselves.”
I raise a brow at the uncharacteristic praise coming from my son. “Just doing what any dad would.”
Kenna snorts. “You’d think that.” Then she smiles. “Don’t sell yourself short. It sounds like you’re a great dad.”
The smile, as beautiful as it is, doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Oh, right… her dad. I’m reminded of earlier when she told me about her rocky relationship with him. I’ll have to think twice about what I say around her lest I put another foot in my mouth.
“Mommy, I want to see the cool bike in his room. Can I?”
“If it’s okay with Christian you can. But first, we have to talk about something.
” Amelia reluctantly pulls her attention from my son to look at her mother.
“I told you earlier how it’s going to be a while before we can drive the car again.
Well, we’re going to stay here until it’s ready.
Carter and Christian have graciously offered the basement to us.
It’s got a bedroom and bathroom and even a little kitchen.
And wait until you see the tables. They are super neat. Made out of car parts.”
Amelia looks unimpressed and turns to look around her mother into the rest of the house, far more mesmerized by the thought of seeing Christian’s bike. Then she gets a glimpse of the falling snow outside.
“Mommy! Can we build a Frosty? The man said we could.”
I laugh. “It’s Carter, Amelia. Call me Carter.”
“Carter said we could. Didn’t you, Carter?”
“I did indeed. But right now I have to go back to work for a bit and get your things. Maybe we can build one later.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Kenna says. “You’ve done so much already.”
“Kenna, do you really want to sleep in one of my work shirts?”
Her cheeks flame. She tries to hide it by angling away from me. “Um… I was talking about the snowman. But, yeah, I guess we’re going to need our stuff. Thank you. Really. For everything.”
“It’s my pleasure.” I head for the garage door. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll be back with your stuff in a few hours.”
I hear Amelia squeal again about seeing the bike. She’s completely smitten with Christian.
Smitten.
I think about what my sister said earlier, and I smile. I smile because the gorgeous, mysterious, stubborn woman who has pretty much turned my life upside down in mere hours will be literally living under my feet for a week or more.
I’ve never before hoped so damn hard for car parts to be on back order.