Chapter Four
Jack stood on his side of the front porch, watching a swarm of movers make trip after trip into Logan’s half of the house.
Well, not Logan’s half. It didn’t belong to her anymore.
She’d even gone so far as to sell her half to him, not so much to be rid of it but because he had at least a vague interest in owning income properties, and this would be a good test. He had a feeling she was saving up for an engagement ring, too, even though she hadn’t admitted as much.
He hadn’t planned to be home when the new tenant moved in, but the movers had been delayed a day and here they were, at quarter after ten on a Saturday morning.
Since it seemed rude not to at least say hello, he’d stepped out with his coffee, prepared to offer a welcome then disappear.
Only, he’d yet to see his new tenant in the flurry of furniture and boxes filing by.
Though they’d spoken only briefly over FaceTime, he was pretty sure he’d recognize her.
While he debated waiting around, he studied the items that streamed past. They were nice. Really nice. An eclectic mix of antiques and newer pieces—all high quality and all in excellent condition. Why was someone who could afford all that renting half a duplex in Bedlington?
“You must be Jack.” The assertion came from a masc woman with the sort of Southern drawl that had faded after years living elsewhere but never gone away entirely.
“And you must be Rhett.” He jogged down the steps after two guys hefting a mattress went past.
Rhett extended a hand and Jack shook it. “Great to meet you,” she said with a level of sincerity he couldn’t help but notice.
“Welcome to Bedlington.” He tamped down the curiosity that could lead to protracted conversation and focused on his responsibilities. “Need anything?”
“Not yet, but I’ll let you know. The place is great.”
He knew it was, especially for its age and the price point.
He and Logan, with a little family help, had done a lot to it when they bought it, and it showed.
Still, renters were few and far between in their neck of the woods, so he appreciated finding someone—someone queer no less—so quickly.
“Let me know if the wiring in the basement is what you need. I’ve done my share of two-forties, but never for a kiln. ”
Rhett waved a hand. “They’re all the same I think.”
As though summoned by the comment, two of the movers wheeled said kiln from the truck. Jack pointed to the path that ran along the side of the house. “There’s a door that goes directly down cellar there. It’ll save you having to navigate doorways and a few stairs.”
They nodded their appreciation and headed that way.
“Down cellar.” Rhett chuckled as though the phrase itself was funny. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go supervise.”
“Of course.” Jack went back into his side, wanting to avoid any semblance of nosy neighbor vibes. He poured a second cup of coffee and threw a bagel in the toaster.
With no formal agenda for the day, he planned to do some puttering in his shop.
Logan had dropped off an old console stereo for them to refurb together.
He needed to make sure the wiring was salvageable before Logan spent any time trying to make it pretty.
It was a beauty, even in its current state.
The mid-century modern vibe wasn’t his style, but it remained popular, and he had no doubt they’d make a pretty penny if he could get the original guts in good working order.
A knock came at the front door just as the toaster sprung his perfectly toasted bagel. He grumbled slightly at the thought of it getting cold. Hopefully, whatever his new tenant needed wouldn’t take long. He opened the door, expecting to see Rhett and staring at Ellie instead.
“Hi,” she said in that chipper way he expected would get on his nerves before they finished working together. She seemed not at all surprised to see him.
“Hi,” he returned, certain surprise was written all over his face.
“I’m guessing I knocked on the wrong door.”
Wrong door, wrong house, wrong town. What the hell was she doing here? “I’m guessing you did.” He shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you looking for?”
“My friend—”
“Ellie!”
The decibels and delight of Rhett’s exclamation answered Jack’s question even as it spun off several more. “You two know each other?”
Rhett released Ellie from the hug but kept an arm slung around her shoulder. “Best friends for more than a decade.”
Jack groaned, but he managed to keep it on the inside. At least he hoped he did. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Rhett angled her head toward Ellie. “I told this one I’d found a new place, and she was all, I think I know that guy. How wild is that?”
“Wild.” He’d have gone with weird or inconvenient or irritating, but he’d been trained well enough by Logan and Maddie to keep observations like that to himself.
“Hope you’re not sick of me yet,” Ellie said with a grin.
He wasn’t that much of a curmudgeon. Still. Finding Ellie as attractive as he did meant having to run into her—both at work and at home—would wear on him sooner rather than later.
“I promise I’ll keep her on my side.” Rhett winked, though Jack couldn’t be sure whether it was intended for Ellie or for him.
“I’m pretty sure the two of you are going to hit it off,” Ellie said.
Great. Platonic fix-ups came a close second to romantic matchmaking on the list of things he disliked most.
“It’s only because we’re both introverts,” Rhett said. “She imagines us sitting in companionable silence drinking beers.”
The irritation of Ellie trying to make him a friend gave way to irritation that she apparently knew him that well already. “I can think of worse things.”
Rhett laughed. “Same.”
Ellie waved a hand between them. “See?”
Jack nodded, his way of admitting she was right without liking it.
“We’ll get out of your hair,” Rhett said, as though sensing Jack’s discomfort.
“I’ll be in the basement if you need anything.” He might not like this development, but he was pretty sure he’d at least wind up liking Rhett.
“Enjoy your Saturday,” Ellie said with genuine warmth.
“You, too.” He offered an awkward wave and went inside, slightly exasperated by the situation and annoyed that he was.
His aggravation intensified when he discovered his bagel had gone hard and his coffee cold during his absence.
He put the coffee in the microwave and got out a fresh bagel, deciding the waste was better than the disappointing texture of a re-toast. He smeared it with extra cream cheese and took both his mug and saucer down to the basement.
He connected his phone to the speaker system and willed himself to relax.
One, because he didn’t want to be one of those dudes who had a heart attack at forty because he was wound up all the time.
Two, because he had better things to do.
His preferred coping strategy—out of sight, out of mind—did the trick.
By the time he’d finished his breakfast and pulled out his tools, his mood was mellow enough to hum along with Billie Holiday.
It was fine. He might wind up crossing paths with Ellie more than he bargained for, but his work and his free time would remain what he loved most: blissful solitude.
* * *
Since she’d spent most of the weekend with Rhett, Ellie blocked her Sunday afternoon for a trek to Riverdale Estates, the assisted living slash retirement community her mother now called home.
The parking lot was nearly full when she pulled in, which made her smile.
Everyone deserved visitors, even if it meant she had to do a couple of laps to find a spot.
She walked up the wide concrete path to the main entrance.
None of the landscaping was in bloom now, but the brochures and photos on the website promised a riot of lush color come spring.
It was one of the things that had sold her on Riverdale.
Her mom wasn’t much of a gardener, but she could sit outside with a cup of tea like a boss.
Well-maintained grounds counted almost as much as the state of the residents’ rooms and common areas.
Ellie signed in at the front desk, delighted that the woman who sat behind it already knew her and greeted her by name. “How are you this afternoon, Laura?” she asked in return.
“Oh, fit as a fiddle. Mrs. Lancaster is finishing up a bingo game, I think. She’ll be so happy to see you.”
“But not happy enough to abandon the blackout.” Ellie laughed.
Laura laughed in return. “Well, a woman has to have her priorities.”
“Don’t we all?” She didn’t begrudge her mom’s borderline obsession with bingo or her occasional outings to the casino for an afternoon of penny slots.
The truth was that Donna’s inclination to be a joiner meant she was well suited for the assisted living lifestyle.
Enjoying the activities and no longer having to worry about things like cooking or laundry balanced any sadness over leaving the familiarity and independence of home.
The desk phone rang, and Ellie took that as her cue to offer a friendly wave and go find her mom. As expected, Donna sat in the dining room with twenty or so other residents, eyes trained on the three bingo cards lined up in front of her.
“I-thirty,” called a woman in bright pink scrubs. “I. Thirty.”
Donna slid a marker into place on one of her cards, just as the woman across the table from her hollered, “Bingo!”
Mumbles of disappointment rippled through the room. An aide came over to check the winner’s card and Ellie used the lull to slide into the empty seat next to her mom. “Have you won any?”
Mom pointed to a stack of four quarters above her cards. “One game.”
“Well, a win is a win, right?”
“It sure is.” Donna moved the markers to the side once her companion’s win was confirmed. “Do you mind if we stay for the blackout?”
“I’d never pull you away,” Ellie said with sincerity.
“Do you want me to ask if you can play?”