Church
The following Saturday morning, I woke up giddy and with butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. After owning my own home for over eight months, my brother-in-law, Bright, was finally able to finish construction on it so that it was inhabitable.
When Bright initially showed me the home—where most people would’ve seen the terrible shape it was in, I saw what it could be. I made a lowball offer and couldn’t believe it when the sellers accepted it.
I bought the house right before winter got serious, so it sat for three months before Bright could even start on it.
Five months later, it was finally ready.
I took a quick shower and dressed in an oversized t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts.
Once my hair was in a bun and covered with a bandana, I headed out.
I stopped by The Butterscotch Café to grab the breakfast sandwiches I ordered the day before and the boxes of coffee. I had a lot of people coming to help me move in and set up my house. The least I could do was feed them.
One thing I loved about Jackson Falls was the sense of family and community it fostered.
My mother and two of my sisters had married local men.
Because of those unions, I had an entire gang of people who rode for me and looked out for me, not that I didn’t have family and connections at home, in Chicago.
I always had my mom and my sisters. It was just different in Oregon.
I went from having four people I could always count on to having about fifteen I could count on.
And as the saying went, there was strength in numbers.
My mother and her husband, Bayliss, were already at my new house when I pulled up.
My sister, Collins, and her husband, Beckham, pulled up as I was parking.
My sister Bailey pulled up shortly thereafter.
“I brought breakfast!” I yelled as I jumped down out of my SUV.
My smile was bright, and my spirit was light.
Bailey climbed out of her truck, her pregnant stomach leading the way.
It was her second pregnancy with her husband, and they were having twin boys.
Twins didn’t run in our family, and they were a generation or so removed from Bright’s, so he was proud of himself, like his virility caused the twin pregnancy.
“I have your key.” She held it up for me to see.
I practically ran over to her to retrieve it.
I gave her a hug before looking around her and into the truck.
“Where is my nephew?” Her son, Brigham, was my only nephew.
The Kingsleys were a family of women—our mother had four girls, Perkins had three girls, and Collins had one daughter and was currently pregnant with another.
Brigham was treated like a little prince by us.
“He’s with his other grandmother. Mrs. Strong is in heaven right now. She has Brigham, and Blossom. Plus, she’ll have Perkins’ girls when they get out of ballet,” Bailey explained.
Blossom was Collins and Beckham’s daughter.
“That lady is on a grandbaby high right now,” Bayliss joked, exiting his truck and meeting us in the middle of my driveway.
I had a driveway. I couldn’t believe it.
“And I’ll be on the same high next weekend, when it’s my turn with all my grands,” my mother said as she joined us.
Beckham walked over, looking from his pregnant wife to Bailey. “All the preggos should plan to be either on sitting duty, eating duty, or watching duty.” He wagged his fingers at both ladies.
“Right!” our mother echoed, with Bayliss’ head nodding his agreement.
Bailey waved him off with a frown. She was naturally the meanest Kingsley sister, but when she was pregnant, she was hell on wheels. She had the right husband, though. Because Bright never let her attitude influence any of his actions. “I’m capable of more than just sitting, eating, and watching.”
“Speak for yourself,” Collins told her.
“I am.”
I gave a heavy, fake sigh. “Mama, the preggos are bringing me down,” I pretended to tattle. “It’s my day. Make them stop.”
“I’m not even doing anything,” Collins complained. “Where’s this breakfast you promised? I’m trying to eat.”
Bailey rolled her eyes at me. “Snitch!”
Beckham ignored them both. “Give me the keys to your truck and the U-Haul. Me and Bay will bring the boxes and the breakfast in.”
Perkins arrived a few hours after we’d started. “It looks good.” She took in the one-story cottage-style bungalow. “You guys are making good timing.”
Almost everything I’d brought with me in the U-Haul had been put away, arranged, or styled. Curtains had been hung, and rugs had been placed on the hardwood floors. Now, we were waiting for the moving men to deliver the actual furniture so it could be placed.
I turned to Bailey. “Please express to Bright how much I appreciate him making my house beautiful and having his cleaners come over and get everything spotless.”
She grinned because, apparently, a compliment for a husband was a compliment for a wife. “Thanks, boo.” She glanced at the screen of her phone. “But he’s pulling up now. You can tell him yourself.”
Bright was a ridiculously talented and popular builder in our area.
I was thankful to be related to him. Otherwise, it probably would’ve taken months for me to get on his calendar.
As it was, he was only able to complete my house before he had to move on to another job.
He wasn’t able to even start the addition I needed.
He did tell me that he would put one of his teams on it.
He was bringing over the foreman that he wanted to lead the project so I could meet him.
The furniture store delivery truck pulled up at the same time as Bright and the new foreman.
My sisters waved me off and assured me that they could handle the furniture delivery.
I trusted them, especially Bailey, because that girl knew her stuff.
She owned and operated Jackson Falls’ only bed and breakfast. She’d decorated it super cute and upscale, making it into a hugely popular destination for tourists.
Even locals loved to book weekend getaways for the luxurious experience.
I walked past the delivery truck in my driveway and met Bright and the production-room foreman by Bright’s work truck.
I was surprised to see ol’ boy from the night before standing next to Bright.
He was dressed in loose-fitting jeans, a white t-shirt, and combat boots—looking like the prototype for the construction worker stripper at a bachelorette party.
I glanced at him briefly before giving my attention to my brother-in-law. I gave Bright a quick hug. “Hey. You know you’re my favorite brother-in-law, right?”
He smirked as I released him. “I’d better be. I ain’t wanna say nothing when you put the offer in on it, but this place was a fucking dump. I literally worked magic.”
“So humble,” I muttered at the same time Jones grumbled what sounded like, “this dude.”
Bright jabbed his thumb. “This is my little cousin—”
He jumped in and cut him off. “Little cousin? Dawg, you were like two when I was born. You ain’t even understand life, and now I’m the little cousin?”
“But I was two. On earth. You were just arriving, . . . little cousin. Anyway, this is Jones. Jones, this is my little sister-in-law, Church.”
“What’s up?” he asked. I gave a small wave and an even smaller smile.
“He’s gonna be the foreman for your production room project. And it pisses me off ’cause I really wanna do it myself. I got so many ideas. But I made a commitment to this tech mogul to start his mountain-view mansion.”
“I understand,” I said with a chuckle. “Money talks, in-laws walk.” We both laughed.
“Nah, I know the bed and breakfast is successful, but you and Bailey have twins coming. You wanna make sure that your finances are where they need to be.” The three of us stood there in silence.
I didn’t know how to ask Bright in front of Jones, if he was really sure that Jones was the right man for the job.
I guess my silence went on too long because Jones spoke. “You look like you got something on your mind, miss ma’am. Speak your piece.”
“I, um. I just need to be sure that you’re serious about this job. This production room is super critical to my business. I don’t have time to waste. I—”
“Wow.” He dragged out the word. “It’s judgy as hell how you assume I’m gon’ waste your time.”
“That’s not what I said,” I told him.
At the same time, Bright said, “That’s not what she said.”
“I heard what she said, dawg. Check it out, miss ma’am. Cuzzo got several crews and several foremen. If you ain’t confident in working with me, I’m sure he can hook you up wit’ somebody else.”
Bright turned away from me and eyed Jones.
“Is you cool? She don’t know you, dawg. She’s a client—asking a question that any client would ask when they meet a new foreman.
Re-fucking-lax.” He turned to me. “Churchy,” he called me by my familial nickname.
“You’re the baby sister I never had. I’m proud of all the moves you’re making.
Getting away from that fuckboy you was living with that none of us liked. ”
I twisted my lips. “Y’all all liked him at first.”
“At first, before we realized he was a fuckboy. Moving on, I’m proud of you.
Startin’ your own business. Being a lady boss.
I get it. It’s stressful and inefficient to have to use the commercial kitchen at the lodge to make your products.
I get how much easier and how timesaving it would be to have your production facility right here at home.
“I wouldn’t put Jones on your job if I thought he couldn’t fuck with it.
Cousin or not, I would’ve put him on a different job.
I’ma always put you in a position to win, lil’ sis.
So, even though you don’t know him, and you don’t trust him, ’cause I know how hard it is to get you damn Kingsley women to trust, you can trust me.
You can trust Bailey. If she thought I was giving you somebody that’s not up to par . . .” He let his thoughts trail off.
I had to grin because he was right. Bailey would let him have it if she thought he wasn’t doing right by me. “Okay.” I nodded my head at Bright before turning my attention to Jones, with his fine ass.
Jones had long hair that came down to his shoulders. I usually didn’t like long hair on men. Actually, I typically despised it, preferring some variation of a neat fade to anything else. But on Jones, the long hair with the loose curl pattern somehow added to his appeal.
Still, his appeal was just physical. I couldn’t help but remember that I saw him with not one but two different women the night before.
And Jenna told us that he said he had spent his entire afternoon being sexed and sucked by the chick from the barbershop.
I was building a business. I didn’t have time to bop with the local thot, . . . no matter how fine he was.
“When can you start?” I asked him.