Fingerprints and Muddy Feet

by Carol Lynne

  Cheddar jumped onto his lap and began making an imaginary nest for himself. Pete ran his hand down Cheddar’s back, soothing his huge companion into settling down. The day he’d closed on the house, a matted ball of orange fur had been waiting for him under the front porch. It had taken Pete a good two hours to discern where the mew was coming from, but using a flashlight, he’d finally found the kitten and had lured him out with the only thing he’d had on hand, a slice of cheese. It hadn’t been cheddar cheese, but cheese was a stupid name for a cat. Of course, most people thought Cheddar was just as dumb, but the moment he’d held that kitten in his arms, the name had come to him and had stuck.

  “And here you are.” Pete grinned. If anyone had told him he’d turn into a cat lover, he’d have punched them, but Cheddar totally had control of the largely unused organ that had been shredded by people who were supposed to love him. “You love me, don’t you?”

  Cheddar didn’t bother to open his eyes at the question. Despite the cat’s current indifference, Pete knew Cheddar loved him. Several months earlier, Pete had come down with a wicked case of the flu, and for nearly a week, Cheddar hadn’t left his side, even forgoing his daily prowl of the yard.

  The phone rang, prompting Pete to mute the television. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t watching it anyway. “Hello?”

  “Peter Braxton?” a deep voice asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “This is Matthew Field.”

  “Yes, John told me to call you,” Pete answered. “I found your number in the book, but I figured I’d just call you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, and under normal circumstances, I would’ve waited at least a week to contact you, but unfortunately, David left you everything.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr Field, but that doesn’t make any sense. David hated me.” Saying it aloud stung, but Pete had to level with the man.

  “Call me Matthew. And David was very specific when he came in and drafted his will. I know this may be hard for you to understand, but I think he was trying to right some wrongs.”

  “Maybe he shoulda done it while he was still alive. I could’ve gone anywhere after they kicked me out, but I chose to make my life here in case David changed his mind. Now you call and tell me he wanted to make things right? Sorry, I don’t buy it.” Pete took a deep breath. It wasn’t Matthew’s fault, and he needed to remember that.

  “I’ve been David’s friend for years, and even I don’t know why he cut you out like he did. He refused to talk about it, but he does have a sealed envelope here with your name on it. If nothing else, maybe that’ll explain something.” Matthew cleared his throat. “There’s something else. David had a dog.”

  “A dog? You are talking about David James Braxton, right?” Pete couldn’t imagine the David he’d grown up with owning and caring for a pet, especially a stinky dog.

  “Hard to believe, but he fell in love with an English Bulldog at our fraternity house at school and decided to get one after your father’s death.”

  “And you want me to head over to his house to take care of the dog,” Pete surmised. The last thing Pete wanted to do was get out again, but he couldn’t stand the thought of the dog crapping all over his mom’s house. “What’s the dog’s name?”

  “Julie. She’s white with a few small patches of light brown.”

  Pete stared down at Cheddar. He couldn’t imagine bringing a dog into Cheddar’s territory. “You wanna dog?” he asked Matthew.

  “Sorry. My kids are allergic. Besides, according to David’s will, the dog has to stay with the house.”

  “I’ve got a house,” Pete said. “The entire thing may be able to fit into the foyer of the Braxton Mansion, but it’s mine.”

  “And so is the Braxton Mansion,” Matthew reminded Pete. “I know David’s death’s come as a shock, but there’re a lot of people who depend on your family to make a living. With your father and David both gone there are certain decisions you’ll have to make.”

  “I’m not an investment banker,” Pete growled, losing his temper. “Never had the training, thanks to my father.”

  When Matthew didn’t reply, Pete knew he’d sounded like a spoilt child. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that,” he apologised.

  “It’s okay. It’s been a rough day for both of us. If you’ll meet me at the house, I can give you the keys and codes.”

  “Yeah, sure. Give me twenty minutes.” Pete hung up. “Sorry, Cheddar, but I have to go out.” He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with David’s dog, but he had no plans of staying the night.

  “I’ll be back before you miss me,” he said, grabbing his keys and ball cap on the way out of the door.

  * * * *

  Pete beat Matthew to the house, so he pulled as close to the eight-foot iron gates as he dared, hoping the bed of his truck was far enough out of the street. A sedan pulled in beside him and the ornate gates swung inward.

  A handsome man in his mid-thirties gestured for Pete to lead the way up the long drive. Pete nodded in acknowledgement before putting the truck in gear and taking off. Back in his younger days, he’d have seen how fast he could make it from Ward Parkway to the garage bay reserved for him, but those days were behind him, and he was driving a company truck.

  Although the expansive grounds were still lit up like a runway, the flowerbeds that used to line the driveway, surround each tree and curve gracefully around the front of the house were gone, replaced with heavily manicured bushes that looked like a damn bunch of poodles wandering the lawn. “Fuck.”

  Pete got out of the truck and waited for Matthew. “What the hell happened to Mom’s flowerbeds?”

  Dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt and a navy sports jacket, Matthew adjusted his baseball cap and shook his head. “Just wait’ll you see what David did to the inside.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and climbed the steps. “He went through something about six months after your dad died.” He opened the door and immediately punched a series of numbers into the keypad just inside.

  Pete’s breath caught in his chest as he stepped into the foyer. The sweeping mahogany staircase that had rivalled the one from Gone with the Wind was gone, replaced with a cheap generic one that didn’t even fit the space. The aged, but glossy floorboards had been ripped up as well as all the ornate moulding.

  “And that’s not all.” Matthew made a left and continued into the living room. “David ripped it all out, every bit of it.”

  Pete wiped the sweat from his forehead as his stomach turned over. “Holy fuck.” The huge room was a shell, nothing more. The woodwork had been stripped, the plaster walls torn out, leaving only studs and insulation behind. He felt violated. Memories of his mom had comforted him after what his father had done, but as he studied the destruction, the thoughts that had sustained him evaporated. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He started seeing a counsellor not long after he did this, till just last week, as far as I know.” Matthew rubbed the back of his neck.

  “It looks like he hated this house, but if that was the case, why not just sell the damn thing and move?” Pete ducked into the dining room and found the same state of disarray.

  “Come on, I need to show you something.” Matthew headed out of the living room before climbing the stairs. “David didn’t spend time down here. As far as I know, he spent it all in his bedroom suite. That’s where we’ll find Julie.”

  Pete followed Matthew. “How close were the two of you?”

  “He’s…” Matthew shook his head. “He was my children’s godfather. We were roommates for five years at KU. We were close.” He laughed. “Well, as close as David was with anyone, I suppose.”

  It didn’t make sense to Pete. David had been out of college before Pete had graduated high school. “If you and David were so close, why haven’t I met you?”

  With his hand on the doorknob to David’s room, Matthew shook his head. “I don’t know. David wouldn’t let me come over when we were off for breaks and stuff. I always assumed your p
arents were alcoholics or something, but I met your dad on a few occasions and he barely drank.”

  “My father drank socially, but Mom didn’t at all. Actually, now that you say that, I don’t remember any of David’s friends coming around when I was growing up.” Why hadn’t that stuck out in his mind before? David had always been popular. Hell, Pete had walked in his brother’s shadow at the expensive Catholic school he’d been forced to attend, so why hadn’t his friends come around the house?

  “This’ll look familiar,” Matthew said, opening the door.

  Compared to the destruction of the downstairs, David’s room seemed to pull him inside, welcoming him with open arms. “Not much has changed in here.” He grinned at the framed art on the walls. “Except the posters are a lot more expensive.”

  A lazy bark came from the foot of the king-sized bed. It seemed Julie was aware of the intruders, but wasn’t concerned enough to climb down the mini-staircase to investigate them. If the dog’s lack of gumption held true, Julie and Cheddar should be able to tolerate each other, although there was no way in hell Pete was sharing a bed with the bulldog.

  Pete walked towards the bed, but stopped when something caught his attention. Changing direction, he plucked a leather-bound photo album off the desk. “This was Mom’s.” He remembered because he used to spend hours looking at it. “I’m gonna take this.”

  “You’re leaving?” Matthew asked.

  Pete glanced at the bed. “Don’t worry. The dog goes with me. It’ll take me a few days to deal with this shit, and I have no intentions of trying to get my head on straight while living in this house.”

  * * * *

  After an incredibly loud and rocky twelve hours, Cheddar and Julie managed to reach an amicable truce. Julie found a corner of the couch that she was allowed to lie in, and Cheddar maintained control of the rest of the house. It wasn’t the perfect situation, but it would work for the time being.

  Pete sat in his favourite chair, flipping through the photo album. He’d stared at each picture so long he could probably draw the damn things in detail. Stopping on his favourite, Pete traced the outline of his mom’s image. It had been taken the Christmas before he’d graduated high school. God, he couldn’t believe how small she was. At five-foot-eleven, Pete was average, but in the picture, his mom barely came to his shoulder. Weird. He’d remembered her as being so much bigger. The picture of the carved fireplace mantle behind her was one of the best he’d found.

  It was hard to explain, but he needed that fireplace to still be there. He needed to know that something of his childhood still remained intact. Decision made, Pete set the album on the table before picking up his phone.

  “How much money are we talking about?” Pete asked.

  “Peter?” Matthew sounded like he’d just got out of bed.

  “Yeah, sorry to call so early. I haven’t been to bed yet, so I guess I lost track of time.”

  “Hang on.” Matthew covered the phone and said something to someone in the room. “Just so you know, I’ve got a wonderful wife, but I also have three kids who run her ragged every day.”

  “So, in other words, don’t call this early and wake her up,” Pete surmised.

  “Bingo.” Matthew yawned. “So, what was your question again?”

  “Do I have enough money to restore the house?” Pete still didn’t plan to ever move into his childhood home, but he’d learnt to live without money, so it might as well go to something he believed in.

  “You have enough money to buy ten just like it. More, depending on what you want to do with the business.”

  “Good, because I’m gonna have to find the best craftsman out there and that sure as hell isn’t going to come cheap.”

  “Why, Pete? I don’t know everything, but I know your father kicked you out after your mother’s death. How can that man’s house mean so much to you?” Matthew questioned.

  Pete didn’t expect Matthew to understand. Shit, he didn’t expect anyone to understand. “I just need that part of my life put back together.”

  “Okay, I’ll get moving on it as soon as I get to the office. David’s will’s airtight, so we shouldn’t have any problem getting you the money.”

  “Cool, then I’m going to call a friend of mine and see if he can hook me up.” Pete glanced at the album. “What about funeral arrangements?”

  “Taken care of. I’ll know for sure today, but I think this Saturday will be the services. Once I hear from them, I’ll contact the newspaper.”

  Pete’s eyes filled with tears, but he quickly blinked the moisture away. No. He’d already mourned the loss of his brother years earlier, and he had no more tears for a man who could so easily turn his back on him. “I appreciate you taking care of that.”

  “It’s the least I can do. I told you, David was a good friend,” Matthew said, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Yeah. He was lucky to have you.” Other than John and a few guys he worked with, Pete didn’t have many friends. “I’ll be here most of the day. Give me a call when you have a date and time for the service.”

  “Will do.”

  Pete hung up and scrolled through his contact list until he came up with Mike Shriver’s number. He’d only known Mike for about six months, but the co-owner of Brookside Athletic Club had done one hell of a job on the new building, making new construction look like it had been in the Brookside neighbourhood for years.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mike, it’s Pete. Sorry to call so early.”

  “No problem. Ray and I just got back from our morning run. I heard the news about your brother. Sorry, man.”

  “Yeah, it came as quite a shock, but even worse, he somehow managed to tear up the house we grew up in. I need the name of someone you trust who can reconstruct all the woodwork that was destroyed.”

  “Depends on how much you want to spend. The best is William Oliver. He takes his time to do the job right, but he’s expensive.”

  “Money’s not a problem if I can get what I want. You got a number for him?” Pete asked.

  “No, but his grandson put a website together for him.” Mike rattled off the web address. “By the way, Ray wants to know when we can plant the elephant ear bulbs we bought.”

  “I get this guy of yours to restore my house, and I’ll come over and plant them for you,” Pete offered. He’d drawn up the new landscape plans for Ray and Mike, the least he could do was help them.

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Talk to you later.” Pete hung up and glanced at Julie. “You have internet at your place?”

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  About the Author

  An avid reader for years, one day Carol Lynne decided to write her own brand of erotic romance. Carol juggles between being a full-time mother and a full-time writer. These days, you can usually find Carol either cleaning jelly out of the carpet or nestled in her favourite chair writing steamy love scenes.

  Email: carol@carol-lynne.net

  Also by Carol Lynne

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&
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