Somebody to Love (8 page)

“He lives in a one-bedroom apartment over the bar. I can get more work done if I’m here.”

She didn’t comment.

“Oh, come on, Parker,” he said, his voice low and scraping. “It’s not like we’re strangers.”

She felt the tips of her ears practically burst into flame. Took a calming breath. “Fine. Stay. Thank you. You can report to Harry and ease your conscience over helping my father rob my son. I can’t say no, because I’m desperate and broke. But I don’t like it.”

“Well, how’s this?” he said, his voice amiable. “We’ll acknowledge that if the situation were different, you’d kick me out. You’ll barely tolerate me, and only because your back is against the wall and you had a mouse in your pants. Deal?” He gave her a smug smile.

Parker unclenched her jaw and glanced at her watch as she got off the hood of the car. James followed suit. “I’m going to the hardware store.”

“You can have the bigger bedroom.”

“You’re too kind.”

“I get that a lot.” There was that smile again. Parker ignored it and started the engine. “You know where the hardware store is?” he asked.

“I’ll find it,” she ground out, throwing the car into Reverse.

Not going as planned. No, sir.

CHAPTER SEVEN

W
ELL
,
SHE
WASN
’
T
HAPPY
.
He hadn’t expected her to be. But man oh man alive, this place was a mess. Three hours in, and James had thrown away a good ton of crap. He paused outside to wipe the sweat from his forehead and breathe in some fresh air. The Dumpster had been delivered right after she’d left, thanks to Dewey, who knew everyone. James had put quite a dent in the piles of crap in the house, starting with the bigger bedroom. The princess had slept in her car last night, he guessed, based on the comforter in the front seat. Probably wouldn’t want to do it again.

A car pulled into the driveway, and a very luscious redheaded woman unfolded herself from the driver’s seat. “Jamie Cahill! How you’ve grown!”

Holy shit. “Chantal?” Couldn’t be anyone else.

“Your uncle told me you were back. Don’t you dare say you’ve forgotten me.”

“Are you kidding? I think of you every night.”

She laughed, and James smiled. Time hadn’t simply been kind to Chantal; it was in love with her. She’d been beautiful at age twenty-five; at fortyish, she was unbe
liev
able. “It’s great to see you,” he said. “Please, God, you’re single.”

“Sorry, baby boy. I’m married—to a much younger man, I might add—and I’m a mommy, even. A little boy named Luke, six months old. I’m nursing.” She raised an eyebrow, inviting James to look. And what was a guy to do but obey? He dropped his eyes to Chantal’s generous endowments, showcased in a very tight and low-cut blouse.

“Lucky kid,” he murmured.

“I won’t bore you with pictures, but he’s the love of my life. Okay, just one, since you begged.” She held out her phone and showed James a shot of a drooling, fat-cheeked baby. “And here’s another one. Isn’t he beautiful? Looks like his daddy.”

“Cute,” James said. All babies tended to look the same to him, but then again, he didn’t spend a lot of time staring into cribs or strollers or whatever.

“Oh, you look good enough to eat!” Chantal exclaimed. “Give us a hug.” She wrapped him in a soft embrace. And hey, she patted his ass, too, making him laugh. Still had quite the effect, Chantal. “So,” she said, releasing him, “you called Harbor Realty, and guess what I do on the side? Real estate. It’s your lucky day.”

“In so many ways,” he murmured.

“Show me what you got. In the house, not in your pants,” she said. “Which isn’t to say I don’t remember you fondly.”

“Okay. Harry Welles—you heard of him, right?”

“Another Wall Street scumbag, from what I hear.”

“Yeah. Well, he bankrupted the family, and all his daughter has left is this house. From her mother’s side of the family. Julia Harrington was her great-aunt.”

“Wow. Millionaire to shack-owner,” she murmured as they walked toward the front door.

“Yeah. So she needs to flip it as soon as she can.” He opened the door for Chantal, who recoiled.

“I’ll pass on the inside for now,” she said. “I’m guessing crappy insulation, maybe four entire electrical outlets and plenty of wildlife.”

“You’re psychic.”

“So how much money can your client spend on it? If we put on an addition, a master suite with sliders and a deck, a big bathroom with a Jacuzzi, gourmet kitchen, build a big patio into the hillside here, outdoor fireplace…we can get a gay couple in here faster than you can say, ‘Bar Harbor is unaffordable.’” Chantal licked her red-painted lips in anticipation.

“She has about ten grand,” James said.

“Well, shit, then.” She sighed. “There are back taxes on this place, did you know?”

“No,” James said. Crap. If he’d known that, he could’ve paid them off. Why Parker didn’t, he had no idea. Then again, she didn’t even remember that she owned the house.

Chantal nudged a piece of trash with her foot. “Julia was broke, and no one in Town Hall ever had the heart to go after them while she was alive. Sorry to say, Harry’s daughter will have to pay about fifteen years’ worth of taxes. Guess it slipped through the cracks until now.”

“What if we did a teardown?” James asked.

Chantal shrugged, pursing her full, red lips. “Nah. Waterfront property up here isn’t worth a ton, because who the hell wants to live in Washington County, right? It’s too far from everything.”

“Right,” James acknowledged.

“And this is what we call a postage-stamp lot. You can get two acres of waterfront over on Mutton Chop Bay for next to nothing. Judy Phillips has been trying to sell a parcel for three years now. Not one offer.” Chantal tipped her head and folded her arms under her chest, making her breasts swell, then glanced at James to make sure he noticed. How could he not? She winked.

“So what’s your advice, Chantal?”

“Well, her best bet for a quick sale is to make it pretty. Strip it down, slap on some new flooring, new roof, new shingles, paint the inside. Market it as a tiny jewel of a hideaway. Maybe we can get enough to cover the back taxes and give her a little nest egg besides,
little
being the operative word here. The place isn’t even winterized. But curb appeal, you hear? Make it adorable. You might get a family or a retired couple looking for a cheap summer home.”

“Okay. We’ll shoot for that. Thanks, Chantal.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a sunny smile. “How’s your family? Dewey says everyone’s doing about as well as can be expected.”

“Yep. Everyone’s fine.”

She shaded her eyes and looked him up and down. “You turned out awfully nice, James Cahill.”

“And you’re just as beautiful as I remember.”

“Aw. Give me a kiss. On the cheek, now. I’m extremely faithful to my young stud of a husband.”

“How’d he get so lucky?” James asked.

“He knocked me up. Let me know if I can help, okay? I’ll probably see you at Dewey’s, and you have my number.”

“You bet. Thanks for coming out, Chantal.”

“Nice to see you again, honey,” she said. She got back in her car and backed out of the overgrown driveway. No sign of Parker, who’d been at the hardware store for a couple hours now. Or she’d fled.

In the truck he’d borrowed from Chuck, one of his basketball buddies—who’d been more than happy to take the Lexus off his hands for the summer—was James’s own stuff. Some tools, left over from his summertime work as a construction worker, not from his father, God knew—Frank Cahill wouldn’t give James a staple, and James wasn’t dumb enough to ask. A few boxes that he’d found in Grayhurst’s attic. He wasn’t sure if Parker had meant to leave them or not, but the Feds hadn’t wanted them.

And his laptop. The old résumé would need brushing up. Unfortunately, there seemed to be more unemployed lawyers in the world than Chinese, and getting a job that paid him what Harry had…not gonna happen.

Speaking of Harry…James reached into the cab of the truck and pulled out his cell phone. A few minutes later, he had Harry on the line.

“How you doing, boss?” he asked.

“Not bad, James, me boy,” Harry said. His jocular tone told James that someone else was nearby, so Harry would be keeping up appearances. “Where are you?”

“Up in Maine. About four hours away from you, give or take.”

“I appreciate you going up there.”

“No problem, Harry.” Playing along with Harry’s mood—because it was one of his few talents—James added, “You’ve paid me enough to go to the Black Hole of Calcutta for the summer, let alone the coast of Maine.”

Harry burst out laughing. “True enough, true enough.” He paused. “I’m trying to get in touch with some of my former associates about a job for you, kid.”

Whatever James had done to earn Harry’s affection, he didn’t know. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if something turns up. How’s my daughter?”

“She’s okay.” James paused. “The house isn’t worth much.”

“No?”

“No. And it’s a mess.”

Another lengthy pause. “So what’s the plan?” Harry asked. There was some noise over the PA about visiting hours.

“Well, we’ll fix it up as best we can, try to sell it.” He paused. “You doing okay, boss?”

There was a long silence from the other end. “It’s not bad,” Harry said in a low voice. “I have a lot of time on my hands. Not much to do. Plenty of time to consider my sins, right?” He gave a halfhearted chuckle.

“I guess so,” James said. “Did you get the books?”

“I did.
Shogun
and
Moby-Dick,
huh? Trying to educate me? Afraid I’ll join a gang while I’m in here?”

“Yep. I also figured you could use them as weapons if a riot broke out.”

“Good thinking. All right, I should go. I have a meeting. Take care of yourself, son. Talk soon.” With that, he hung up, sounding much like the corporate wheeler and dealer he’d been.

A meeting. That was good. One good thing about prison—Harry would have to sober up.

Well. Back to work. Parker’s room was almost clear.

He had to admit, it was more satisfying than Nerf basketball.

* * *

“O
KAY
,
FOR
MOLD
KILLING
, this here’s what you want, little lady,” said Ben, one of the three senior-citizen gentlemen who’d pounced the second she’d walked into the tiny hardware store.

“Mold killer. Got it. Thank you so much, really.”

“Oh, my Lord, it’s a pleasure,” Rolly said. “Pretty ladies who don’t know nothin’ about home repair…it’s what we live for.”

“You guys are angels.”

I resent that,
said Spike.
A totally overused word.

“You’re sweet, dahlin’,” said Stuart. “It’s our pleasure. You ever painted a room before?”

“I haven’t,” she admitted, and the men charged the paint-chip wall.

Almost three hours after she entered the hardware store, Parker left, the three guys carrying her packages to the Volvo. “Oh, Rhode Island,” said Ben, glancing at her plates. “I went to Providence College.”

“A wonderful school,” Parker said, making him blush.

“You need any more advice, we’ll be happy to help,” Stuart said.

“I absolutely will, and thanks a million, boys. Really.”

She realized she was smiling as she started the car. The guys had advised on mousetraps—the thought made her cringe, regardless of this morning’s little incident, which she’d relayed to her new pals to their howling delight. They’d shown her what she’d need: sponges, brooms, mops, bleach and lots of it, Murphy’s wood oil, razor-blade scrapers, gallons of Windex, six pairs of thick rubber gloves, two pairs of work gloves, megasize trash bags. Not only that, but the boys had a box of doughnuts from Joe’s Diner—no Starbucks up here, that was for sure—and they’d made her eat two, bless their hearts.

Parker had never been in a hardware store before. Nope. It was her new favorite place, though—all those mysterious thingies, the pleasant smell of metal and wood smoke from the stove in the middle of the store. All those solutions for her troubles.

Glancing at her watch, she saw that, at last, it was late enough to call Nicky. She pulled over to the side of the road. Cell service, thank heavens.

“Mommy! Guess what? I
love
sourdough bread! I
hated
it yesterday, and now I love it! You have to smear it with jelly. That’s when it gets good. Guess what else? We’re going to the Golden Bridge today! And some gardens…Lucy’s making me go but I want to see the jail! It’s on an island and me and Daddy—”

“Daddy and I.”

“Daddy and I are gonna go to jail like Grandpa, but I’m gonna break out! And I’m gonna bring Elephant, and he’s gonna break out, too. And guess what? I’m gonna jump in the water and swim all the way to Maine, Mommy! We’ll take you out for lunch.”

Man, her boy was the best kid ever. Parker felt a bit as if she’d swallowed the sun, so warm and bright his chirpy little voice made her feel. “Well, don’t swim yet. The house isn’t quite ready, and you have to go see the giant trees and rocks, remember?”

“I know. But I miss you.”

The vise that had gripped her heart since Nicky left tightened a notch. “I miss you, too, sweetheart.”
I miss you so much I cried in the car last night.
“I can’t wait for you to get here. It’s so pretty. I can see lobster boats from the house.” Well, she could if the windows weren’t boarded up. “And there’s a really cute diner where we can go out to eat.”

“Do they have sourdough bread?”

“I don’t know. I’m going there tomorrow.”

“Did you know there are
earthquakes
in Fran Francisco?” Nicky said.

Parker smiled again. “I did, actually.”

“I’m gonna lay on the floor—”

“Lie on the floor.”

“—and see if I can hear one. Here’s Lucy! Bye! I love you! I got you a present! It’s a necklace and it’s a rainbow.”

“Bye, baby. I love you! I’ll call you later,” Parker said.