Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) 📖

on the porch steps and sighed and looked away. His shoulders slumped.

“I know, it’s a hit to our budget,” she said. “But hopefully the insurance will pay for it, right? Anyway, Wyatt and I managed to get all the paint off the floors and the appliances, so I’m just repainting the walls in the bedroom and the kitchen cabinets. And the kitchen floor. Again. That’s a pain in the butt, for sure. We’ll have to get a floor guy to take a look at the scorched floor in the living room, but maybe that can just be patched.”

“Come on inside, Grace. I need to talk to you.”

Theirs footsteps echoed in the high-ceilinged rooms. Arthur looked in at the kitchen, and the bedroom and bathroom.

“You’ve done real good work here, Grace,” he said finally. “And I’m gonna pay you for everything you’ve done. I want to do right by you.”

“But?” She dreaded what he was going to say next. It would not be good news, she knew.

“The wife and I had a long talk yesterday. My blood pressure was up pretty high by the time I got to see my doctor, and that got her all upset and worried. And the thing is, at my age, I just don’t need the hassle.”

“Arthur, once somebody’s living here, I seriously doubt you’ll have anything like this happen again,” Grace said. “Even if you don’t rent it to me…”

“If we rented it to anybody, it’d be you, Grace. But we’re not going to rent it. We talked it over, and what with the money it’ll take to put in that central air-conditioning you keep talking about, well, I just don’t see putting that much money into the place right now. So we’re going to sell it.”

“Oh.” Grace felt herself sag against the kitchen doorway. “I see.”

He swallowed and she saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he worked through what he was going to say.

“I hate like the dickens to let the place go,” he said, running a gnarled hand over the doorframe. “The way you had it looking, just these past couple weeks, my folks would have been proud of that. This was their homeplace, and they always took pride in it. But my wife, she helped me see, the time has come to let it go to somebody else.”

Grace couldn’t trust herself to speak. She just nodded.

“I’ve got a real estate agent coming over on Saturday, to look the place over and tell me what she thinks I could sell it for,” Arthur said. He looked up at her. “My wife was wondering if maybe you’d be interested in buying it. If you were, we’d try to make you a fair price, taking into consideration how much time you’ve already put into the house. But we’d need you to make a decision pretty quick, before we go ahead and list it with an agent.”

She bit her lip. “If my divorce were final today, and I had the money, I’d love to buy this house,” Grace said. “But to be honest with you, I can’t say exactly when that’s going to happen, or how much of a financial settlement I’m going to get from my ex. The judge in my case … well, let’s just say he doesn’t exactly see things the way my lawyer and I do.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Arthur said. “And that fella, that friend of yours? I don’t guess he’s in any position…”

“He’s in almost the same position I am, except he’s also got child-support payments,” Grace told him. “Anyway, Wyatt and I … well, he’s a very nice person. But we just started seeing each other. It’s way too early to know how that’s going to turn out.”

“I see. Well, I guess that’s that then,” he said. “I’m real sorry it had to end like this, Grace. I liked the idea of you fixing up this place, moving in and living here, starting all over again. Don’t guess there’s any need for you to do any more painting now. I feel bad enough that you put all this time into the place, for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” Grace said. “I enjoyed the process. I just hope whoever buys the place will finish the job and do justice to it.”

She followed the older man out to the front porch. “I meant to ask you,” she said, as he fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. “Did you report the vandalism to the police?”

“Yes. I filed a report. I showed them the pictures I took with my camera. They didn’t seem too interested. I guess they see a lot of that type of thing.”

“I’ve got an idea about who might have done it,” Grace said slowly. “Would it be okay if I talked to a cop I know?”

He gave her an odd look. “Grace, it’s over. I appreciate your wanting to catch whoever did this, but don’t you have something better to do with your time?”

“Humor me, will you Arthur? You’re probably right. It’ll probably come to nothing. But this is personal now. I’d like to see it all the way through, whatever happens.”

Arthur patted her shoulder. “You’re a stubborn little gal. Guess I should have figured you’d want to get to the bottom of things. All right. Go ahead. And if this cop friend of yours has any questions, have him give me a call.”

55

In a pair of frayed jeans with holes at the knees, a Tampa Bay Rays T-shirt, and Wayfarer sunglasses, Pete Strivecky looked nothing like a cop and everything like a too-cool-for-school teenager as he stood on the doorstep of the cottage on Mandevilla, holding his motorcycle helmet under one arm.

“Awesome house,” he said when Grace greeted him Tuesday morning. “I’m glad you gave me a call. I’ve been reading about it on your blog. I even rode my girlfriend over here last weekend so she could take a look at it in person.”

“It is an awesome house, or it will be, when whoever