He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “You know you don’t have flood insurance, right?”
Her breath whooshed out. She backed up and sat on the bottom stair.
“You didn’t know. Well, most of your damage is from the water, but we can assume the shutters, the gutters, and the loss of your trees came from wind damage.” He handed her a piece of paper, which she studied. After her deductible, she’d clear fifteen hundred dollars. She couldn’t breathe.
“Sorry, lady. You shoulda had flood insurance.”
So helpful.
“What address you want us to mail the check to?”
She swallowed. “When will I get it?”
He babbled for a couple of minutes about how lucky she was to be with his insurance company, because they were rushing through some of the smaller claims. Most of his words were lost in the chill and despair. “I can have it processed in a couple a days.”
“OK. Send it here.”
After he walked away, Sadie dropped her head into her hands. What would she do? Fifteen hundred dollars wouldn’t make a dent in the repairs. With almost nothing left of her savings, she needed money. A mortgage. If she could get maybe forty thousand, she could at least get the biggest stuff done and do the rest over time. But for that, she’d have to get back to work. Fast.
Plan in place, she locked up and headed for the coffee shop to see about that job.
7
The coffee shop windows were boarded up. The building was dark and deserted. But what caught Sadie’s eye—what she couldn’t look away from—was the For Sale sign in the window.
A moment passed before she could catch her breath. Finally, she turned away and slumped to the bus stop, where she huddled in the glass enclosure. The hiss of the bus’s hydraulic brakes pulled her from her bleak thoughts.
She climbed three steep steps, hobbled halfway down the narrow aisle, and sat, staring at the cloudy skies through the scratched window until she reached the corner a few blocks from Marjorie’s house.
Felt like rain. Or snow, maybe. She hugged her wool coat around her, bent into the oncoming wind, and followed the familiar route to the house where she’d been staying, keeping her eyes trained on the sidewalk.
The coffee shop was for sale, so she was out of a job. Not only that, but she’d been out-of-work since late October. No mortgage lender would loan her money now.
Maybe Marjorie could explain, because it didn’t make any sense to her. Sadie didn’t think she could handle another blow. Hadn’t she been through enough? She blinked back tears. Lord...
But the words wouldn’t come. She’d never been very good at praying, certainly not under the weight of stress. God felt further away than the farthest star. He’d never answered her prayers.
Or maybe it was more accurate to say God had answered her prayers, always with a resounding No. Other people had good things happen to them, but not Sadie. God wasn’t there for her, never had been. She was on her own.
Inside the house, she saw the light glowing from the kitchen and turned toward it. “Marjorie?”
“In here,” the gravelly voice said. The older woman cleared her throat just as Sadie entered the room. Marjorie was sitting at the kitchen table, the newspaper opened in front of her. A cigarette dangled from her mouth, the smoke curling its noxious fumes toward the ceiling.
Sadie pulled out a chair and plopped down. “I just walked by the coffee shop.”
Marjorie pulled in a long draw, blew the smoke out her nose, and set the cigarette in the glass ashtray. “I got a call this morning. Owner decided not to reopen.”
“It’s already for sale.”
Marjorie nodded slowly. “That was fast.”
“Yeah. So...what does that mean? Do they have jobs for us at any of their other locations?”
The older woman scowled and coughed. “Fat chance. We’re unemployed.”
The word settled around her like a vice. Unemployed. In this economy. How would she ever get a mortgage now?
“As long as I’m dolin’ out bad news,” Marjorie said, “I got one more for ya.”
Sadie tensed, her shoulders hitching up to her ears.
“Talked to my daughter today. Exams are s’posed to last through next Friday, but the one she had next week was rescheduled, so she’s coming home this weekend.”
“OK. I can move out of her room and crash on the couch.”
Marjorie shook her head. “Sorry, hon, but I gotta ask you to go. With no money coming in, I can’t feed you, and you got no money to pay. You got a coupla days to get out, but I need to spend Friday cleaning, so if you could be gone by Thursday, that’d be great.”
Two days.
Jobless. Homeless.
Could she live at the shelter? No, she couldn’t face that. She’d move back to her house and live with the mess.
A sliding glass door led to Marjorie’s fenced-in back yard, and a bird chattered on the tall boards. The room she’d been staying in was pretty, with a lavender bedspread and pale green walls. She loved that room. It had felt a little like home, though Marjorie was nothing like her mother. Still, it had been nice. But it was no longer an option.
She pulled in a deep breath and stood. “Fine. I have to get my power back on, if I’m going to move home. And I gotta start looking for a job.” She dialed the phone as she pulled open the front door and jogged back to the bus stop.
8
Max settled into the backseat of the taxi and tried to exhale the stress of the day. He’d taken the subway that morning, figuring it was easier than trying to find a parking space. But he was too tired for that long ride home.
He’d spent the afternoon working at a specialty grocery and deli in the financial district, trying to get their system back online after the flood. The software issues hadn’t drained him—with the new computers, getting their systems working again had been pretty simple. But the store itself was still a mess, with mud-covered, moldy boxes piled in the corners, gritty floors, and the stink of sewage and seawater. Just watching the owner and her employees work had been exhausting, especially with all that had yet to be done.
It had been a tiny glimpse into what Sadie was facing. How was she managing? Once Sadie made a decision, no amount of reasoning could alter her course, even when it was completely illogical. His childhood bulldog was pliable compared to Sadie.
Compare her to the dog. Good plan. Idiot.
Of course, Sadie was so different from him, passionate where he was logical. That’s why software development was perfect for him. Software didn’t get stuck on a singular course, unwilling to let him change a line of code here, tweak another there. But no software was as fascinating as Sadie, either.
And yet she was bent on wasting her life down here, waiting for her father to show up. Stubborn, foolish woman.
Too bad he was crazy about her.
The taxi stopped outside Max’s hotel, and he climbed out.
In the center of the lobby, the lights on the Christmas tree twinkled, and a deep baritone crooned a Christmas carol through the speakers above, reminding him that this was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. If things worked out with Sadie, the song would be proved right.
Max admired the Christmas tree, trying to put himself in a better frame of mind as he crossed to the elevator. He needed his jeans, his sweatshirt, and a big, juicy burger. Maybe Sadie could join him. He’d called her a few times that afternoon, but she hadn’t answered. Probably busy with the adjuster or contractor. He didn’t want to be a pest, but he couldn’t wait to see her again.
A flash of movement to his left caught his eye. He turned just as Sadie pushed up from the short sofa near the window.
“There you are.” When she reached him, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
He felt a big, goofy grin cross his face. “What a great surprise.”
“I’m glad you think so. I hope you still think so in a few minutes.”
“What’s up?”
>
Sadie looked toward the small bar on the far side of the lobby. “Mind if we sit?”
“Sure.” He checked his watch. “I was just going to call. You hungry?”
“I’m sorry. I have an appointment in an hour. Maybe just a drink?”
He followed her to a round table for two near the far wall and away from the others in the bar. He helped her with her coat, took off his own, and hung them both on brass hooks attached to a nearby post.
The waiter laid two cocktail napkins on their table and took their orders, smirking when they both asked for sodas and refused the menus.
“So what brought you all the way to Manhattan this afternoon?”
Even in the semi-darkness of the wood paneling and low lights, he could see her cheeks redden. Her lips turned down at the corners, so he’d doubted she’d come because she couldn’t wait to see him again.
“I don’t have flood insurance.”
No insurance? That little flutter—part of that was disappointment for her, but mostly, it was elation that she’d be moving home. He’d need to hide that second part. “I’m so sorry, honey. What did the adjuster say?”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but tears filled her eyes. She swiped at them with one of the cocktail napkins. “It gets better. I also found out the coffee shop isn’t going to re-open, so I’m out of a job. And, on top of that, Marjorie’s kicking me out on Thursday.”
“Wow, when it rains—”
“It floods and ruins your life.”
The waiter returned with their sodas and retreated quietly.
“A setback.” Max said. “Nothing is ruined.”
She wiped her eyes again. “You’re right, of course. Actually, I did have one bit of good news. I talked to an electrician, and he can start working on the power tomorrow and thinks he can have it back on by Thursday.”
An electrician? What she needed was a real estate agent. “That’s good,” he said, unconvinced.
She sipped her drink. “So, tomorrow I’m going to see about a space heater and a microwave—”
“Wait a minute. You’re not moving back in, are you?”
“I don’t have a choice. It’s either that or a homeless shelter. And I’ve seen enough of those to know home is better.”
“But it’s not safe. Isn’t it filled with mold? And you have no furniture, no appliances.”
“Upstairs is fine. I should have enough money left over from the settlement after I pay the electrician to manage whatever else I need. I’m hoping the refrigerator will work, but I won’t know ’til I get the power on. If not, I’ll get one of those dorm fridges. The plumbing works, I know that.”
“This is a bad idea.” He pictured her place, remembered the awful smell. Christmas was just a couple of weeks away. He couldn’t imagine her holed up in that place, all alone, on Christmas Day. “Anyway, how will you afford to fix it up if you don’t have a job?”
“I’ll have to find a job. I’ve already set up two interviews, both waitressing jobs. I’m not bothering to look near home. So many of the businesses were flooded, lots of people are out of work. But I figured, maybe in Manhattan.”
“Long commute.”
“On the other hand, if I can get a waitressing job, it should pay more than the coffee shop.”
“What about your degree? Don’t you want to do something with that?”
“Maybe later.” She twirled the straw between her thumb and forefinger. “But I need something that pays right now.”
Max sipped his soda, buying time. Why couldn’t she see the truth and be reasonable? And why did he have to pick this woman to love instead of any of the reasonable, compliant women who’d seemed so interested in the past?
It was obvious that God wasn’t behind this little venture of hers. He was closing every door. But Sadie? She’d hold out forever.
Max wanted to shake her, to make her take off those Sadie-colored glasses and face reality. And then, when she finally broke down and admitted he was right, he wanted to hold her and comfort her and make it all better. But none of that was going to happen, because Sadie would never quit.
“Even if you get a great job,” he started carefully, “the money’s not going to come in fast enough to fix up that place. And you said most of your neighbors are giving up. You can’t stay there alone, no neighbors to keep the block safe. It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s not dangerous at all. We haven’t had any looters or anything.”
“Still...what’ll you do, live on the second floor and eat frozen dinners for years? It’s not practical.”
“I know that. At first, I thought I’d try to get a mortgage, but no bank’s going to loan me money if I’m unemployed.”
“No, they won’t.”
She turned those bright, hopeful eyes toward him.
Their expression made his stomach knot. “But you have a plan?”
She leaned forward and smiled. “I was hoping...I mean, I know we just rekindled our friendship, or...whatever.” She pulled in a deep breath, blew it out, and continued. “I thought maybe you could loan me the money. You seem to be doing really well, and you know I’m good for it. I mean, you know where I live.” She smiled and then looked away, fidgeting nervously. “I swear I’m good for it.”
He leaned back. “I see.”
“You can take the house as collateral.”
“You really think I’d evict you from your home, Sadie?”
She blinked, reddened again. “No. I guess not.”
Silence settled between them. He watched emotions play across her face, his gut tightening with every one. “I know you’d pay me back.”
She leaned forward, her eyes brightening again. “I would, I swear. And I know it’s a lot to ask.”
He did have the money. If he gave it to her, maybe he’d earn her love. They’d have a connection, then, and she’d care for him all the more. It would be a great way to prove his feelings for her. It would be so easy. He almost agreed.
She closed her lips in a tight line, took a sip of her soda. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other options. But my mom won’t do it. She wants me to move home. She’d say no just to get her way.”
“Maybe,” he said. Probably. If he didn’t loan her the money, Sadie would have to move back to New Hampshire. So she’d be closer. But she’d hate him. Again, the temptation to say yes overwhelmed him. He sipped his drink and stared at the far wall.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I’m thinking.”
She tapped on the edge of her glass with trembling fingers.
What could he do? What did God want? Max was pretty sure God didn’t want Sadie to stay in that house. And could Max go against God just to please Sadie? There it was—that terrible habit of fearing people more than God. But this wasn’t just anyone, this was Sadie. He’d do anything for her. Well, almost anything.
She leaned forward. “So?”
“How much do you think you’ll need?”
“I figure I can do a lot of the work myself. Forget the contractor, right? I’ll be my own contractor, download instructions off the Internet. But the supplies are going to cost money. Maybe...I think ten thousand would be a good start.”
“Ten thousand won’t even make a dent in it, Sadie.”
“I don’t have to fix it all at once. If I can get the power back on, get some appliances in the kitchen, I can do the rest over time.”
Live on plywood, no drywall? And what about that basement she’d told him about? Did she plan to clean that out, the water, the mud, the stink?
“Let me pray about it, OK?”
Her frown said it all. “Sure. Whatever.”
He sipped his soda again, and so did she. Tension filled the space between them. He set his soda down. “It’s not a no, it’s just...I need to think about it. Not because I can’t afford it, and not because I don’t trust you with it. I just have to know I’m doing it for the right reasons. I have to feel like God’s behind it.”<
br />
She pursed her lips. “I understand. It’s fine. Any idea when you’ll have an answer for me?”
“Let’s have dinner tomorrow,” he said. Not that he could put a time limit on God, but he already figured he knew what God would say. He needed the time to work up the nerve to tell her. “I’ll try to have an answer by then.”
“OK. I have an interview tonight, so I have to go.” She grabbed her wallet from her purse and fished through it.
He stood as well. He wanted to pull her into a hug, to kiss her again, but things felt too tense. “The drinks are on me.”
She looked up and smiled, though her lower lip trembled. “Thanks.”
After giving him a quick kiss on his cheek, Sadie left. She walked by outside the window, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He hated himself for putting them there. If he didn’t come back with the right answer, would she be out of his life for good?
9
Her suitcase lay open on the lavender comforter, the lid propped against the white headboard. Everything about this room screamed teenage girl except Sadie’s grungy sweatshirts.
Most of Sadie’s clothes lay in a heap on the floor where she’d dumped them after taking advantage of Marjorie’s laundry room. She hoped her old washer and dryer would work once she got the power back on, but she wasn’t counting on it.
She grabbed a T-shirt off the top of the pile, folded it, and set it in the suitcase. Then she grabbed the next item and stuffed it in.
What would Max decide? Sadie glanced at her watch. Too many hours lay between now and dinner.
She stuck in pairs of underwear, picked up a sweatshirt.
The interview the night before had gone well enough, but the restaurant’s manager had wanted someone with more experience, not someone who hadn’t waited tables since college.
She had to find something. Without a job, she wouldn’t be able to fix her house, and without the house, she wouldn’t be able to find her father.
Mostly, Max had to come through. If he really cared about her, he’d loan her the money. Relationships were about caring support, right? Without his support, how could she even consider having a relationship with him? He had to know that. So she fully expected him to say yes. He had to. Otherwise, her plan would fall apart.
Faith House Page 5
