The Dad Next Door

by Stephanie Dees

  “That sounds great.” And it did. He could picture it in his mind. She was creating a home.

  “I got a recommendation for a painter from the hardware store. He and his wife are coming to get started on the kitchen tomorrow, so I need to finish the demo today. You?”

  A car pulled into the driveway. Through the hazy window, Joe saw Amelia bound out before his mom even got the car stopped good. “Joe?”

  He grinned. “Headed to the cabin. I got some mousetraps at the store when I got your new locks. Maybe shouldn’t mention that to Amelia, though. I’m afraid we’d end up with them as pets.” He swung open the back door and stepped into the sunshine. “Over here, Amelia. See ya later, Claire.”

  Claire watched as he walked around the pond to the cabin she’d “rented” to him, his daughter bouncing happily beside him, and reminded herself. He was her tenant. A cop who had his own set of problems to deal with and she definitely didn’t need more problems.

  He wasn’t even that attractive.

  Yeah, whatever. Keep telling yourself that, honey. She eyed the plate of brownies that Mrs. Evelyn had brought. She wanted one, but she’d already had one and brownies were a treat, not a staple.

  And that was how she needed to think of Joe. A sweet treat. Chocolate-covered? Definitely. But not the kind of thing she needed to make a part of her everyday diet.

  A buzzing sound split the quiet and the lights flickered on. Her own whoop was nearly drowned out by the cheer from the guys working on her lines.

  Things were looking up. She laughed and gave a thumbs-up to the guys working outside. She opened the door and hollered to them, “Make sure to stop by the kitchen and get some brownies and cookies before you go.”

  Another car turned into her lane and pulled to a stop behind Joe’s truck. She sighed. At this rate she was never going to get the kitchen demo’d for the painters tomorrow and she couldn’t afford to pay them to do the prep for her.

  She walked out to meet her visitor, surprised to see a squad car in her driveway.

  The driver, a man around sixty, stepped onto her driveway and hitched up his pants.

  “Hi, there. I’m Claire Conley.”

  “I’m Acting Police Chief Roy Willis. I wanted to personally welcome you to Red Hill Springs.” He looked around as he talked, his eyes lighting on the pile of discarded cabinet doors by the back steps. “You’re going to need a construction Dumpster for that debris.”

  She was slightly taken aback but gave him an easy grin. Rules were rules. She wasn’t necessarily a stickler for them, but she got it. “I’ve got one coming, but I didn’t have time to wait for it. I have painters starting work in the morning.”

  “Licensed and insured?”

  “I’m not sure about that.” Heat was starting to creep up her neck. She didn’t know what the point of his questions was, but it wasn’t against the law to hire unlicensed painters. “I hired them on the recommendation of the local hardware store, but I’ll be sure to ask them when they arrive. It’s a big project. They will have incentive to do a decent job because if they do, they’ll have all the work they want for a while.”

  He glanced at the power company workers who were packing up, then back at her, a speculative look on his face. Surely he wouldn’t have something to say about her having the power turned on.

  “I have the proper permits to do the renovation on this property, Chief Willis. I had the attorney who handled the inheritance for my sister and me make sure of that.”

  He smiled, and instead of being reassuring, it increased her prickly feeling of unease. Whatever his motivations were in dropping by, she wouldn’t be able to do anything if she didn’t know. “Is there something in particular I can help you with?”

  “Some people in town got the impression by the way you were asking around that you might be hiring day laborers. They were rightly concerned that you might be encouraging a...certain element...to hang around our town.”

  Claire wasn’t even sure what to say about that. Some people in town were worried about it? People like him, for example? Her fingers clenched into a fist and she really just wanted to punch him in the face.

  She wouldn’t, of course. She had enough sense to know he was baiting her. He might be using his power to harass her—and that was exactly what she would call it—but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of hauling her in for assaulting the police chief, acting or not.

  He leaned back on his car and crossed his legs, glancing at the cabin, where Joe and Amelia were going to be living. “We’re a real friendly town, Ms. Conley, but it’s my job to make sure that our town stays safe from riffraff.”

  She really hoped that the electrician working in her house was not overhearing this conversation. For his sake and the sake of the other workers, she tried to keep her voice down. “I don’t think that giving hard-working people a job is contributing to the ‘riffraff’ in this town.”

  “You would think, wouldn’t you?” He smiled again, a smug, indulgent smile that said bless your heart. “Well, Ms. Conley, we have standards around here and we take those standards pretty seriously.”

  He looked again toward the cabin, where Amelia and Joe had disappeared through the front door. And suddenly she was smacked with the truth. This judgmental jerk wasn’t talking about riffraff in general, he was talking about Joe!

  Claire took a deep breath. Joe, Amelia and Bertie had welcomed her to town before she’d barely crossed into the city limits. There was no way she was letting this guy get away with spreading malicious lies. If he thought she would, he better think again. She didn’t care if he was the police chief, he was going to have to get off her property.

  * * *

  “No, no, get under it, Amelia, it’s gonna fall!”

  Amelia squealed as her feet slipped out from under her on the dusty floor and the aging mattress landed on top of her.

  Joe ran around the bed, jerked it off and dropped to his knees beside her. Her skinny arms were over her face and he could see her shaking. He reached out to touch her and pulled his hand back. A few days ago she wasn’t even talking to him. He wasn’t sure she would welcome his touch.

  The fickle fall Alabama weather had turned cool again and she was wearing denim shorts and a sweatshirt with some furry boots that all the kids were wearing this year. She was covered in dirt. And he had no idea what to do with her. Call 911? “Amelia? You okay? Is there anything I can do?”

  She threw her arms away from her face and he saw her big smile, small white teeth in an even row. The laugh spilled out as she grabbed the hand he held out to her as he tried to hide his sigh of relief that she was okay.

  “Trying to get rid of me already?” She brushed the dust off her shirt, long dark hair sliding forward to cover her face.

  It was a joke, but one that sent pain spearing through him. She’d been allowed to think he didn’t care for far too long. He said quietly, “I don’t want to get rid of you.”

  She glanced up at him, stared into his ugly, scarred face and patted his cheek. “Thanks. I don’t want to get rid of you, either.”

  He wasn’t sure if she believed him, but he was going to keep saying it until she did. “Wanna go again?”

  “Yeah, but I want to keep the bed part and paint it, okay? So don’t break it.”

  “I’m not gonna—” Her dark eyes were twinkling. She was joking again. He was going to have to get used to this side of her. “Okay, okay. First we have to get the mattress out of here. So grab your side again, but this time get your weight under it.”

  He could totally haul the mattress out on his own, but she needed ownership in this house, this life they were building. And he needed to know they were in this together. “Ready...one, two, three, go.”

  She lifted her side, staggered under the weight a little and followed him out the door. From the s
teps, they tossed it onto a growing pile of trash. Amelia let out a cheer and held up her hand for a high five.

  He obliged and said a silent prayer of thanks that finally—finally—he was breaking through the barriers to knowing his daughter.

  She frowned. “Who’s that yelling at Claire?”

  Joe followed her gaze to the plantation house. Amelia was right. Claire was standing beside a police car. She had both hands out to the side, and while he couldn’t see what she was saying, her mouth was moving fast. “Stay here.”

  Amelia shot him a look. “No way. I’m not letting that guy give Claire a hard time.”

  He didn’t stop to argue with her. It was probably pointless anyway. He started toward the house. The man standing beside the car looked like Roy Willis. If it was Roy, purposely giving her trouble, Joe was going to have to do something about it. Things were not exactly rosy between him and the guy who’d once arrested Joe and chafed, big-time, with the fact that Joe had been adopted by the chief of police. He’d had the nerve to use Joe’s adoption against Frank in an attempt to get him fired. It was small-time politics and Joe hated it.

  Roy’s voice carried. He was saying something about “undocumented workers” and “harboring criminals.” Claire, to her credit, didn’t react. She only pointed out that she would be paying all the workers and that she would be sure to get their names and addresses so that she could issue a 1099 at tax time.

  Joe couldn’t hear what Roy said next, but as he got closer, he could see that the acting police chief’s eyes were narrowed in on Claire. And whatever he said really made her angry.

  She pointed at his chest and her words were crystal clear. “If you think any of the people on my property are dangerous and a nuisance, then you’re really going to love it when I have a house full of juvenile delinquents.”

  Roy’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he didn’t answer, just jumped into the car, threw the gear shift into Reverse and sped out of the driveway.

  Claire watched him as he drove away and then turned on her heel and stalked into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

  Joe’s footsteps stalled as he tried to figure out what he should do next. Amelia stopped beside him and they contemplated the closed back door, her stance unconsciously echoing his.

  “Maybe you should talk to her.” Amelia looked a little unsettled. And even though Joe had seen Claire’s emotional reaction to the house the first day she’d arrived, it hadn’t been anything like what they’d just witnessed.

  He glanced down at Amelia. “She’s really upset. Maybe I should just give her some time.”

  “That’s dumb. You’re her only friend. You can’t bail on her.” She turned her back on him and started toward the barn. “I’m going to see the kittens.”

  His gaze followed his daughter as she stomped across the yard in those clunky boots. She disappeared from his sight into the shadowy barn. When he turned back to the house, nothing had changed. The door was still closed and Claire was still inside.

  Amelia’s words rang in his head. You’re her only friend.

  Nice to be put in your place by a twelve-year-old. Reluctantly, he started for the house, climbed the steps and knocked on the back door.

  Chapter Five

  Claire leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on her burning-hot face. Tears stung in her eyes, her humiliation only worse because Joe and Amelia had witnessed it. And to be clear, she wasn’t mad at herself for putting Roy in his place. However, she had lost her temper, and for that, she was very sorry.

  A knock sounded at the door. She took a deep breath and turned the water off at the sink. Maybe he would go away if she didn’t answer the door. Maybe, but that would make her even more of a coward. She swung the door open and he stood there, an apologetic look on his face.

  Joe cleared his throat. “Can I come in for a glass of water? I’m still not sure the pipes are working at the cabin.”

  He was so handsome and so sweet and something eased in her chest that he would even care. Wordlessly, she pushed the door wider open to accommodate his frame.

  Grabbing a plastic cup from a bag on the counter, he filled it with tap water and stared into it for a minute. “It’s probably not about you. This thing with Roy—he’s not a fan of change.”

  Her breath was a rush of expelled air and he turned back to her.

  She ran a hand through her hair and more of it tumbled out of the band she’d had holding it back. Frustrated, she jerked the band out and shook her hair free. “He said to me, ‘You’re stupid if you think people can change. Trash stays trash.’”

  The brutal words were like a slap, even though she’d heard them just moments ago. Joe didn’t speak for a minute, then pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat in it. “He’s angry. And maybe he’s not happy with what’s going on here in general, but that comment, that was directed at me. He arrested me back when I was in middle school. I asked for a glass of water from the waitress at the Hilltop, and when she wasn’t looking, I took a Danish from the platter on the counter.”

  Her mouth dropped open. He had to be kidding. “He arrested you for that? What were you, nine or ten?”

  He nodded and she shook her head. “What a jerk. You were hungry.”

  “He said he had to teach me a lesson.” Joe shrugged, the expression on his face carefully blank. “It didn’t stop me from stealing. Nothing did, until Frank and Bertie took me in. It was their love and support—and food—that made the difference.”

  “I can’t believe him.”

  “He doesn’t like me. I really do think he believes that people can’t change.” He tilted the water cup and looked in it again as if some secret to human behavior would be found there. She wished it was that easy. “He doesn’t think about the experience that I have as a cop, or on the regional crisis response team, or even in the military. All he sees is that kid who used to steal.”

  She closed her eyes, her words flooding her mind, her face going hot again. “I shouldn’t have said that about a house full of juvenile delinquents. They’re not. I was just so angry.”

  When she opened her eyes again, he was looking at her with understanding. “I’ll talk to him. And maybe he won’t do anything.”

  “You think?”

  “You never know.” His words were hopeful, but his face told a different story.

  She grabbed a napkin from the table and held it over her eyes, slumping back in a chair. “My mouth always gets me into trouble.”

  “Claire, Amelia and I can stay with my mom instead of moving into the cabin. There’s no reason to bring this thing with Roy to your door.”

  She whipped the napkin off her face. “Don’t you dare let that bully keep you from doing the right thing for your family. Amelia loves it here and we’re going to make sure she gets to stay.”

  “Speaking of, our future veterinarian went to check on the kittens. Maybe we should check on her.” He stood up and tossed his now empty cup into the trash can.

  “Baby animals do cheer me up.” She grinned and held out her hand. He grabbed it, hauling her to her feet. “Thanks, Joe.”

  As she followed him out the back door to the barn, she realized that her passion for kids and for justice was what made her happy and fulfilled. It was what made her...her. But it was also her biggest weakness.

  A weakness that Roy wouldn’t hesitate to capitalize on.

  * * *

  Amelia bounced in the vinyl seat next to Claire a few days later. “I’m starving. I want blueberry pancakes.”

  “Me, too.” Claire grinned and shot Amelia a look out of the corner of her eye. “When I ate yours the other day, they were the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted in my life. Just the perfect ratio of blueberries to batter. I don’t know how any other pancakes could ever compare to those. They wer
e perfect.”

  “You’re kinda mean, Claire.” Joe sipped his coffee.

  She sighed. “Yeah, and that satisfied feeling will be even better chased with a short stack.”

  Amelia rolled her eyes but grinned, taking the ribbing in stride. The difference in her face and actions, even in just a few days, was amazing.

  Lanna stopped by their table with her tray and coffeepot. “Hey, folks, what’s for breakfast?”

  “I’d like blueberry pancakes, please.” Amelia spoke up first and Lanna’s eyes widened.

  “Okay, blueberry pancakes coming up.” The waitress nodded at Joe. “What’ll it be, Joe?”

  “The same for me except with a side of bacon.”

  Claire looked up from the menu. “Me, too.”

  Lanna took the menus and tucked them under her arm. “Refill?”

  Claire smiled up at her. “Not yet, thanks, though.”

  As Lanna walked away, Claire caught sight of a poster on the bulletin board beside the door to the kitchen. She couldn’t see it all, but it said something about a town council meeting. She slid out of the booth, and as she got closer, the words came into focus: Emergency Town Meeting. Help defend Red Hill Springs from juvenile delinquents and criminals. 7 p.m. Library Community Room.

  Defend Red Hill Springs from what? This had to be the doing of Roy Willis. He’d said she would be sorry. She guessed this was his way of firing the first shot.

  If so, it was a pretty good one. Years ago, she’d learned to quiet the voices in her head, the ones that said, You’re not good enough. You don’t have what it takes. Why do you even try? Those old insecurities were only a murmur in her adult life, replaced with a hard-won belief that she was a child of God and worthy of love for that reason alone.

  She rubbed the scars in the crook of her elbow, the lines where she had cut into her skin with a razor blade as a young teenager. The voice of insecurity had been really loud then. Roy’s actions brought those old feelings of desperation and shame welling to the surface.