It was just another jingle to Marti. Lost in thought as she was, she wasn’t jarred from her reverie until Laurel greeted her next customer by name. The minute she heard the name ‘Joe,’ she slowly turned around in her seat so as not to be obvious. Unfortunately, even that move was transparent, since the minute she finished her rotation she found herself staring into the face that had haunted her all morning. And he was staring at her, arms crossed over his broad muscular chest, wide legged stance, nearly a challenge. She tilted her head, trying to discern what his body language was telling her. Was it possible he was as conflicted as she was? That was what she was feeling and that was what she was feeling from him.
Laurel chose that moment to interrupt. “I know you, Joe Masters,” she said admonishingly. “That table does not have your name on it. And look, there are two seats at it anyway. Why not join her? Marti could use a few friends in this town.” Then she turned and began making his lunch. And all the while she was working she was babbling almost inaudibly.
The only words Marti heard were ‘creature of habit’ and ‘damn stubborn man.’ She smiled slightly as she continued to concentrate on the world outside the café window. Bit by bit she was consuming the meal she had been given when she was jarred by the sound of sighing coming from behind her. She chose to ignore it. Then it happened again, louder and more obvious. And she realized it was directed at her. Annoyed, she turned around with her eyes narrowed angrily, “Yes?” The word was spoken in such a manner as to show the depth of her displeasure.
Joe smirked. Verbal sparring. He loved it. This was what he liked in a woman, feisty, fearless, and supremely confident. He was struggling to hide his smile as he spoke. “I always sit there.”
Her eyebrow arched angrily. “No,” she corrected, “you usually sit here. Today you don’t, unless, of course, you plan on sharing the table with me.” Her lips were pursed and she crossed her arms under her ample chest.
This time he was visibly grinning when he tried to respond. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to share, won’t I?” He sat down opposite her and smiled over at Laurel whose jaw had dropped when he sat with Marti. While he waited for his meal, he studied the woman he couldn’t help but like.
Marti had recommenced staring out the window. Known for her patience, she was embarrassed that he had cajoled her into a fight. And clearly he had enjoyed it. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was still smiling as he stared at her, willing her to pay attention to him. Well, she just wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She held her tongue for what seemed like forever. She tried counting to calm down. She tried clenching and unclenching her fists in her lap. She tried focusing on the life outside of the café. Finally, she broke. “What?” She asked, exasperated. “Why are you staring at me?”
A wide smile broke out on his face. “I was just trying to figure you out,” he admitted. “It’s a little something I do.”
“Really,” she said smartly. “So, have you figured me out yet? Because I have to tell you, I haven’t figured me out yet and I’m way more years into it than you are.” She leaned toward him and stared at his face.
“Well, that explains things,” Joey admitted, scratching at his chin. “You cost me a bet.”
“How’s that?” Marti asked, thoroughly annoyed. He was really sucking the enjoyment factor out of this meal and she was about to tell him so.
“Yup. I lost out on a week’s worth of free breakfasts because you own that orange hybrid. I hope you’re happy.” Joey was finally in a playful mood. Something about annoying her stirred something within him. Maybe it was because her mere existence had thrown such a wrench into his life. And now, if Keely was correct, that wrench was just getting bigger and bigger. He was enjoying upsetting her for a change.
“I’m ecstatic. Can’t you tell? So, what did Keely win?” Marti had taken a bite of her sandwich after asking the question and had to actually close her eyes to savor for a moment. Joey started to speak, but she silenced him by simply raising her finger.
He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. No one had tried to silence him in a long time. Hell, half the people who had tried had paid the price. He wasn’t always the upstanding citizen she saw before her. No. He had been a complete bad ass in his day…fearless, impulsive, and as temperamental as his ginger colored hair suggested he might be. He never lost a fight and he had been in plenty of fights and had the scars to prove it.
When Marti opened her eyes, Laurel was standing near the table, smiling, waiting for a reaction. “Oh my God!” Marti exclaimed. “You weren’t kidding. This is quite possibly the best roast beef sandwich I’ve ever tasted.” She forgot for a moment how annoyed she was with Joey. She shoved her sandwich in his face. “Here. Try this!” He sneered at her sandwich. “Okay, have a bite from the part I haven’t eaten off of yet.”
Joey simply turned his nose up at her meal and leaned further away. “I don’t eat red meat,” he said seriously. “Could you get that out of my face? It’s disgusting.”
Looking at him in shock and dismay, she wondered how a man that…manly could not like red meat. “Huh. I didn’t have you pegged for a vegetarian,” Marti said.
And that’s when Laurel placed the large basket overflowing with fries and chicken tenders in front of him. The women exchanged glances. “Your usual, Joe,” Laurel said. Then she reached into the pouch of her apron. “And your Texas Pete. Try not to use the entire bottle this time. You are costing me a small fortune in that stuff.” She glanced at Marti. “And try not to let this grump ruin your lunch.” Then she returned to the kitchen.
It was a quiet lunch. Joey was focused on his food. He ate quickly with little concern for manners, although he did use napkins. That was when Marti realized she’d been staring at him. He needed more. It was no wonder the way he was shoveling food into his mouth, talking on the phone while eating, and cursing every few minutes. He paused mid-conversation with someone on the phone that he kept referring to as ‘Buddy.’ And Marti couldn’t help but wonder if that was the guy’s name or simply his station in life as a friend of Joey’s.
“Want a napkin?” Joey glanced at her but didn’t address her so she didn’t respond. “Hey., Marti,” he tried again, louder this time. “Do you want a napkin?”
And the way he said…enunciating every word and getting louder, only annoyed her more. “No, thank you,” Marti said, both annoyed and embarrassed. “You didn’t have to yell. How was I to know that you were speaking to me? You didn’t address me the first time. You’ve been talking on the phone the entire meal.”
Her words were lost on him. He had already jumped up from the table, grabbed a few spare paper napkins from the counter, and landed back in his seat while she was talking. The longer they were together, the less she liked him, really. He was so…arrogant. He was so…rude. And she was so…confused. What did it matter to her?
“Yeah, Buddy,” Joey said brusquely. “I’ll talk to you later. I can’t hear. There’s a woman trying to talk to me while I’m on the phone.” And he gave her a look that implied she was the rude one.
“That is it.” She stood up, made eye contact with Laurel who was working behind the counter, and asked her a question. “Laurel, should I leave these here, or bring them to you?”
“Leaving already, Marti?” She sighed and walked to their table. “I had hoped to talk to you more. I’ve just been so busy with the lunch rush…” Her voice trailed off and she looked first at Joey and then at Marti. They were glowering at each other. “What did you do?” She had her hands on her hips as she glared down at him.
Joey looked at her innocently. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I was the perfect gentleman. I even offered her a napkin.” He shot a look at Marti that dared her to contradict him.
“Yeah, well you might try using one you pompous fool.” Marti pointed at his goatee. “Or are you saving that hot sauce for later. Enjoy your table. And I thought I should let you know that I plan to stay in tonight. No need
for you to worry that we’re going to trip over each other for yet another meal today, unless it’s your habit to eat dinner in the blue room at Hope House.”
Marti was leaving. He was going to have his table to himself. And she looked so damn cute when she was angry. There was a fire in her cheeks and something about the way her eyes flashed when she looked at him. He practically wanted to stand, taker her face in his hands and kiss her. As angry as she was, he wondered how long it had been since someone had loved her. Then he shook his head. Why did he even care? That didn’t matter. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be him. What the hell did he know about love anyway? He toyed with the idea of joking with her, but she didn’t much look like she could take a joke at the moment.
“Nope,” he said through a mouth full of fries, “I’ll be grabbing Bojangles to start my celebration of the new year.”
“That’s right,” Laurel added. “I forgot about the First Night celebrations. You should come!”
She was about to continue and explain, but Marti interrupted. She was still fuming over Joey. It was rare for anyone to make her that angry. She had never even grown that upset with Blaine and lord knows he deserved it. “I just want some fresh air. Yesterday was a long drive. Today has already been a long day. Can I think about it?”
“Absolutely, hon. Take your time.” Laurel gave her a pat on the shoulder as she walked past.
And with that, Marti headed out the door and down the sidewalk to the real estate office. Maybe Deb would have time to show her the listing on Dogwood now. Maybe she would finally catch up with Blaine tonight. Maybe she would check out the festivities. She did, after all, come here to find hope. And the chances of finding it in her room at Hope House were pretty slim, no matter how perfect the décor, the fire, the Jacuzzi bath, and the room service was. Any place she was alone was pretty low on hope these days.
Pushing through the door, Marti discovered she was once more alone with Deborah. And the woman was just as welcoming as she was before. In fact, Marti mused, everyone but Joey had been really warm and inviting. Or maybe it was just the men who were so difficult. Luckily, she was married so she wouldn’t have to find out. It seemed like the dating pool for the sleepy little town was pretty shallow.
“Hey, gurl,” Deborah called when she saw Marti enter the office. “So, did you find anything you might like to look at?”
Marti beamed. “There is one that I am dying to see. Can we go look at Dogwood Lane?”
Tilting her head to the side, Deborah looked at Marti. “You do know that house needs a lot of work, right?”
Smiling, Marti nodded her head enthusiastically. “I want to keep busy. I want to make a place my own. And remodeling a big old southern home is my dream.”
Deborah opened her mouth to talk to her once more, but decided that words alone were simply not going to sway Marti. She’d take her to the house and let her see from there. That house had been on the market for over five years. In that time, windows had been broken, it had fallen into deeper decay, and the chimney had crumbled some in the back. The porch was starting to resemble Swiss cheese. The plumbing was suspect. The electrical was worse. And though it had once been the glory of the street, maybe even the whole town, someone could easily make a case that it should be condemned. Shoot. She knew of at least one person who had. Joe would not be happy as long as that house continued to stand. But…he might get over it if someone brought it back from such a state disrepair.
They hopped in Deborah’s gray Honda Civic that she had parked out in front of the realty office. She locked the door behind them after flipping the sign explaining that she was out showing homes at the moment.
“People don’t mind?” Marti asked, gesturing to the closed sign.
“Nah,” she replied, waving her hand to dismiss that notion. “There really aren’t enough people around for it to matter. The town isn’t what it used to be.”
“Oh, well, when I saw that they were expanding the roads and building sidewalks…” Marti’s voice trailed off.
“This town had money that had to be used up. And that’s how they decided to spend it. I swear that someone read a marketing book on our town council and is applying the ‘fake it until you make it’ theory to town planning.” Deborah chuckled. She had pulled up in front of the house on Dogwood Lane. The property looked as forlorn and dilapidated as she remembered. She exited the vehicle, slammed the door, and watched Marti for a reaction.
The woman was completely enchanted. She was walking around and practically floating on air.
“You’ll need these,” Deborah said, passing her to keys. “Now be careful. There’s no one to sue if you get hurt.” She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. She had been in that house a hundred…maybe even a thousand times. It was a happy home, filled with love and laughter. There were holiday parties that took up the entire first floor of the home in the winter and garden parties out back in the spring and summer. The ladies garden club used to meet there. So many happy memories. And then, Mrs. Stowe passed away. She was the heart and soul of that home. Mr. Stowe was the last in the line, since their son had died in the war and he was an only child in a line of only children. There was no one to pass the home onto. There was no one to maintain it when he gave up. And as the house fell into shambles, so did the rest of the town. It might be nice to see it restored to its former glory.
Before walking up the front steps, Deborah turned and looked at the house across the street, the Masters place. She knew from the truck in the driveway that Joe was home and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was watching this. She smiled reassuringly in the direction of his front windows just in case, then turned and headed into the house.
“Have you seen this place?” Marti was calling from upstairs. “I swear it’s the house that time forgot.” She went from room to room, opening doors with glass handles, squealing in delight at the claw footed tub she found in the upstairs bathroom.
Deborah watched as Marti flitted from one room to the next. She seemed to be counting aloud. “Wow. That’s a lot of windows to replace.” She looked about and counted aloud again. “A fireplace in every room?”
Minutes later she came skipping down the stairs, testing the railing as she walked. She smiled in approval. It was back to the kitchen she went. And as she walked she named the rooms as she imagined they would be designated. There were five bedrooms upstairs, but only one bathroom. There was one full bath on the main floor that was a Jack and Jill bathroom shared between anyone on the main floor and the master bedroom. She studied that room again.
“Honestly, I think I would make this a study with the ability to become a guest room. Or…,” she glanced around, “maybe I would install a powder room over here under the stairs.”
The wallpaper was peeling off the walls. The ceiling was crumbling down in chunks. There were gaps in the wall where plaster had once been, but now not even a fine powder residue on the floor remained. There was no kitchen to speak of…no modern appliances, a few cabinets, one small section of counter, and a sink that she had no desire to salvage. The kitchen was sunny and bright in the afternoon sun. And even though the garden was ridiculously overgrown, Marti could picture it…wild flowers and herbs, vegetables, and fruit trees. It could be magnificent. Plenty of space for an in ground pool.
Sitting on the back porch with her knees drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around them, rocking as she dreamed, Marti knew she had to have this house. She could see it. The vision was as real to her as the iPhone she held in her hand as she made notes and snapped pictures.
“What is the listing price?” Marti asked as she glanced at Deborah.
“This is a bank owned property. I think they had it listed for thirty thousand dollars.” She stopped speaking then and watched for a reaction.
“Hmmm. I know it doesn’t sound like a lot, but it is still a bit steep given that I am essentially paying for a lot. I practically have to demolish the house and start fresh. It would probably be cheaper
.” She looked over the notes she had taken. “What if I put in an offer for $19, 900? How long would it take to hear?”
“Marti, this is a small town. Let’s go over to the bank right now if you’re serious and start negotiations.” She motioned for Marti to follow and they belted themselves into the car and drove around the corner. There it was…the bank.
As soon as Marti was introduced to the bank manager, negotiations began in earnest and an agreement was quickly reached. For the price of $21,300, the house was hers. Like a true professional, Marti hid well that she knew Blaine had paid more for her vehicle than she had just paid for the house. And she tried not to let buyers remorse set in as she wondered where to begin.
While she was still at the bank, she called Blaine. They set up an account there in her name and money was electronically transferred. For all practical purposes, the house was hers. Just hers. And she had asked Blaine about that. She had walked out the big double wooden bank doors and down the granite steps so she could pace on the sidewalk while she talked to him on the cell phone. She told herself it was because the reception was better that way, but really, she wanted the privacy. For some reason, Blaine was telling her to put the house in her name and to open the account in only her name and even though she was used to being alone…she was suddenly feeling very overwhelmed, a little lost, and seriously confused. Since when was anything in her name, let alone just her name?
“Well, I’m not there to sign off on papers now, am I?” Blaine’s tone was clipped. He was clearly agitated. “I have a surgery in an hour and you want my attention on a house, on a move? Martha, I can’t do it. You have to start handling things by yourself once in a while. You are a big girl.”
Stormy Surrender (New Hope #1) Page 5
