“Pregnant?” March arched an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, it’s pretty simple. I’m going to have a baby.” Was English coming out of her mouth? It felt like she was speaking Chinese.
“The father?” Bru’s eyes were hooded. This was the calm before the hurricane.
“Not in the picture. I’m super excited about Baby Jenkowski. I hope you are too.” She was hoping they wouldn’t notice how she’d glossed over the whole baby-daddy thing.
Bru stared her down, his brown eyes almost black. “What do you mean ‘not in the picture’?”
“It was a one-night stand. I don’t even remember his name. He won’t be a part of my child’s life. But luckily the baby will have two wonderful uncles to make up for it.” It was wishful thinking that she would get off easy with her brothers. She sat and pretended to study her menu.
“What about that secret boyfriend you told us about?” March pulled up the chair next to hers and plopped down.
“He’s also out of the picture.” She patted her rounded stomach. “He had a problem with Baby Jenkowski. I’m better off without him.”
Bru sat in the chair on the other side of her. “Are you sure he’s not the father and you just don’t want to tell us?” He didn’t beat around the bush either. Now that she saw it from the other side, some bush-beating-around would have been nice.
“Why would I do that?” Always answer a question you don’t want to answer with another question. That was her motto.
“You’re doing that thing again.” March glanced at Bru. “She answered a question with a question. She only does that when she’s lying.”
Tough crowd.
“Uh huh. It’s like the time she stole my new leather panniers from my old Indian bike and tried to sew them into a backpack.” Bru pinched his lips together to keep from laughing. “Like I wouldn’t notice the new custom panniers looped over her shoulders. You looked like a packhorse.” He ruffled her hair.
“OMG, really? The panniers … again? When are you going to let that go?” Her fallback when the question-with-a-question thing didn’t work was anger.
“Yep, Mr. Secret Boyfriend is definitely the father. It usually takes her longer to jump to anger when question-with-a-question backfires.” March cracked his knuckles. “You should save yourself some time and just give us his name. We’re going to find out anyway.”
“Yeah. I promise he’ll come crawling back and apologize for whatever he did wrong.” Bru’s voice held a promise of general mayhem. “All we need is a name.”
“Oh stop. You don’t scare me. And I’m not giving you his name. Let’s just say that I decided raising my child alone was best for everyone.” She picked up her menu in the universal sign of I’m-done-talking.
“Look, she thinks that hiding behind that menu is going to stop us from questioning her. That’s so cute.” March’s voice was all sticky-sweet like he was talking about a cat video.
“Stop bullying me. You don’t need to know his name. I don’t want him, and I sure as hell don’t want him around my child. Now, are you going to be proud uncles or not?” She hoped they were buying all of her bravado, because it was wearing thin. Tears pooled in her eyes. Stupid hormones.
“Oh God, you’re going to cry. Okay, fine. We’ll leave Romeo alone. Yes, we’re excited to be uncles. Don’t cry.” Big bad Bru’s face had turned an interesting shade of gray. He could give an enemy a beatdown without a second thought, but he couldn’t take his baby sister’s tears.
She should have thought of that earlier.
“Fine. Your baby daddy is safe.” March shot Bru a look of disgust. “She always gets you with the tears.”
“Shut up.” Bru raised a finger and Lauren appeared at the doorway.
That was a neat trick.
“I’ll start with a Johnny Walker Blue straight up.” Bru glanced at his menu. “And some truffled deviled eggs and fried oysters.”
“I’ll have the same.” March didn’t even look at the menu.
Lauren looked confused. “The same drink or the same drink and the food?”
March just smiled, throwing her all four of his dimples. “Yes.”
January was sure that he had been put on this Earth to both charm and confuse people. Everyone had a gift, and March’s was charming confusion.
Lauren nodded and headed out.
It would be interesting to see what she delivered.
“I’m thinking of selling my condo and getting a house.” January threw that out there into the conversational void.
Bru mulled it over. “I’ll go with you and help you look at houses. You should more than double your money on the condo, but it’s too easy to overpay for a house here in Austin.” These days, Bru was more businessman than biker. He and March ran a successful house-flipping business. Bru remodeled the houses and then March sold them. They were Property Brothers meets The Hells Angels.
It helped that Bru owned his own construction company. He only hired ex-cons who couldn’t get a job anywhere else. Most of the time it worked out. On the few occasions that Bru had gotten taken advantage of, the advantage taker had mysteriously disappeared. January liked to believe that they’d simply left town to start a new life far away from Austin. She really didn’t want to know the truth.
“I can pick out a house on my own.” She hoped she didn’t sound like a whiny child. She did run a successful business of her own, but truth was, Bru was great at finding properties for below market value.
“I’m still going with you.” Bru pulled out his smartphone and laid it on the table. He felt around in the pockets of his black leather jacket and then pulled out a pair of reading glasses. He slipped them on the end of his nose and began thumb typing.
January caught March’s eye and mouthed, “Glasses?”
“Yep, Bru’s getting to be an old man. He’s pushing forty.” March slapped his brother on the back.
“What’s the big deal? You’re thirty-eight and you wear contacts.” Bru didn’t look up from his phone. “What area of town do you want to live in? How many bedrooms and bathrooms do you want?”
“I’d like to stay close to the bar. One of those cute craftsman houses with a small yard would be nice.” She hadn’t really thought much about bedrooms and bathrooms. “I guess two bedrooms and two bathrooms would be great.”
“What’s your price range?” Bru continued to thumb type. Now that he had a project, he’d stopped asking about her baby’s father.
Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
“I don’t know. I haven’t really given it that much thought.” Could she really double her money on her condo? How long would it take to sell? “Three to four hundred thousand if I can really double my money on my condo.”
“If you want to stay close to the bar, you’re going to need a million minimum, and that’s for a handyman special. We should look east of I-35. You get a lot more for your money.” He typed some more and then turned the phone so she could see the screen. “This one’s nice and it’s only two fifty-eight.”
It had boarded-up windows and looked like a stash house. “I’m okay with a fixer-upper, but that’s a tearer-downer.” She took the phone from him and zoomed in on the picture. “Are those bullet holes in the front door? Wait, is the roof caved in?” She studied the picture. “No, it isn’t caved in. It looks like the roof burned down. Unfortunately, those ugly gray cinderblocks that make up the walls stopped the fire from spreading.”
“You’re going to have to be flexible. Your price range isn’t high enough for downtown, or even for a lot of properties on the East Side.” He took his smartphone back. “With a hundred thousand, I can make it your dream home.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw this house in a drive-by shooting on the news last week.” She propped her chin on her fist. “Let’s keep looking. There’s bound to be something with a roof and without bullet holes.”
“I’ll start looking, but you have to keep an open mind.” Bru picked
up his menu. “Since I’m becoming an uncle, I think we should celebrate. Let’s order dessert first.
The kid wasn’t very far along, but January could have sworn she felt Baby Jenkowski kick in agreement.
* * *
Chapter 4
* * *
“You can’t buy a house that isn’t for sale.” Susie Sweet, January’s fellow triathlon teammate pointed to the house January had just pulled up in front of. “That for-sale sign is for the house across the street.”
Today, Susie had her shoulder-length black hair down and board straight. She was wearing a white dress and a wide cardboard collar painted gold with lots of fake jewels glued to it à la Cleopatra. Her eighth-grade science class was mummifying Cornish game hens, and Susie apparently felt she should throw on some black eyeliner, a couple of gold bracelets, and go all ancient Egyptian to set the mood. It had probably never occurred to her to change out of her mummy wear before meeting January to look at houses. That was one of the things she loved most about Susie. She had a complete disregard for the opinions of the world at large. She didn’t care what anyone thought. Now that January thought about it, that was both good and bad.
“But I like this one.” January pointed to the light-gray Arts and Crafts style house. It had a cheerful red front door and a huge covered porch. It was begging for red porch swings on both sides of the front door. “And I’m about to be homeless.”
“You’re the only person I know who’s ever sold their home in less than two hours.” Susie rolled her eyes. “It was meant to be, I guess.”
Susie had about as much appreciation for spontaneity as Laney.
“I know … right? March listed it and a guy showed up to look at it twenty minutes later. He made me an offer on the spot.” January hadn’t just doubled her money, she’d almost tripled it. Now she could afford to spend a little more on a house. “I’m hoping that the owners of this house just forgot to put the ad up on Realtor.com.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Usually, when people want to sell a house, they get it online ASAP and put a sign in the front yard. People with no signs in their front yards don’t want to sell their houses.” Susie sounded like she was trying to reason with a crazy person.
Silly Susie, there was no reasoning with crazy. Susie taught middle school and dressed up as Cleopatra. She really should have learned that by now.
“Details.” January grabbed her key fob from the console of her Nissan Leaf and opened the driver’s-side door. “Let’s go knock on the front door and find out if they’re open to selling.”
It was the perfect house. There was a huge oak tree shading the porch and tons of happy red-potted flowers everywhere.
This was her house. January knew it down to her bones. This was where Baby Jenkowski would grow up. She’d have Bru build him or her a fancy treehouse in the backyard.
Yep, this was her home.
Now if the people living here would just get with the program, she could move in right away.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Susie swung her gold-sandaled feet out of the car, stood, and met January at the curb. “This probably won’t go well.”
“Usually, you’re all, ‘The glass is overflowing.’ Why are you being a Debbie Downer?” Most of the time, January wanted to smack Susie with a big stick because she was so damn cheerful.
“What? I’m being realistic.” Susie’s forehead scrunched up. “Now that I think about it, we’ve done a complete role reversal. I’m now cynical and you’re insanely hopeful. This morning my horoscope said that I would walk in someone else’s shoes and here I am trudging along in your cynical slippers.” She was using her sticky-sweet Snow White singsongy voice. In addition to having the same personality as a Disney Princess, she looked like one too. With black hair and large, green eyes, she was a dead ringer for Snow White.
“I hope we trade back soon, because being this optimistic takes some serious work. It’s exhausting.” January fanned herself. It was fifty-two degrees outside and she was sweating. This whole pregnancy thing took some getting used to. She was no longer in control of her own body. Instead, there was a being the size of a lima bean calling the shots. Right now, Baby Jenkowski was using her bladder as a trampoline, and he or she wasn’t too happy about the double chili cheeseburger and jalapeño fries she’d had for lunch. Heartburn had her chest in a bear hug. She needed a bathroom and an antacid in that order.
What were the chances that when they knocked on the door, they’d find a spry senior citizen who was tired of all of this sunshine and heat and wanted to move somewhere cloudy and cold? It could happen.
Inward eye roll.
Being this upbeat was seriously taking a toll.
Susie crossed her fingers. “I’m praying we find the body of an old man who died peacefully from old age lying in the front hall. Let’s just hope he died a few minutes ago so the smell won’t be too bad.” She thought for a minute. “One second thought, that’s not cynical enough. This poor old man probably lived off of canned soup and saltines he stole from Earl Abel’s coffee shop in San Antonio, until one day he tripped over his own two feet, hit his head on the bottom stair, and knocked himself unconscious. Unfortunately, his Life-Assist panic button necklace got caught in a tiny crack between the stair and the heart-of-pine wood floor, but it wouldn’t have helped him anyway, since he broke his neck. Because he has a money-grubbing son who hasn’t seen or spoken to the old man in twenty years because the son’s an alcoholic who cheats on his wife and gambles heavily, the son will sell this place cheap.”
January put her arm around Susie’s shoulders. “Wow, that was very graphic and specific. I think cynicism is too much for you.” With her other hand, she tapped Susie on the forehead. “Be healed, my child. Go back to your cheerful ways and leave the cynicism to those of us who can handle it.”
Susie put her hand over her heart. “Oh, thank God. I was just about to describe how a pack of vultures had pecked through a back window and were slowing devouring the man. The poor old guy is nothing but bones from the knees down.”
“We’re going for cupcakes after this. You’re getting extra sprinkles and I’m not taking no for an answer.” January had seen Snow White’s dark side, and it was scary as hell. “If the sprinkles don’t work I might have to buy you a pony.”
Susie clapped her hands and bounced up and down. “Goodie. Can I name him Sir Reginald?”
“And you’re back.” January held her hand up for a high five.
Susie high-fived January’s hand. “What are you going to say if someone answers the door?” She liked to plan ahead.
January wasn’t much of a planner-aheader. “I’m hoping the words will come to me.”
“Good luck with that.” Susie straightened her Cleopatra collar like she wanted to look her best for whomever was waiting for them to drop by.
“I do my best work under pressure.” January put her hand to her stomach. Either she had nervous butterflies or Baby Jenkowski was rabbit-kicking her in the gut for no good reason. And her bladder was about to explode. “Think they’ll let me use the restroom?”
“Would you let a strange woman who asked to buy your not-for-sale house use your bathroom?” Susie had a point.
“But I’m pregnant.” Surely that counted for something.
Susie eyed January’s baby bump. “You’re barely showing. Maybe if you were wearing maternity clothes, but you’re not.”
January was still accepting single motherhood; she wasn’t mentally ready for maternity clothes.
She and Susie headed up the front walkway. January banged the brass door knocker. She checked her watch. It was almost six. Would the inhabitants be home from work yet?
The door swung open and a woman with a red sweater, jeans, and a pixie haircut smiled up at January. “Yes?”
“I was wondering …” It seemed best to jump on in there. “If you’d like to sell your house.”
“I beg your pardon?” The woman leaned forward like she hadn’t h
eard January correctly. “You want to buy my house?”
“Yes.” Should she offer money now? What kind of condition was the interior in? Her eyes flicked to the room behind the woman, where some scaffolding seemed to run the full length of the stairs.
“Why?” The woman finger combed her hair and then tossed her head and her hair fell back into place. If January tossed her head like that, all she’d get was a sore neck.
“I like it.” While this was a strange conversation, it didn’t even rate in the top ten oddest conversations of her life.
“You haven’t even seen the inside. My husband and I are right in the middle of a remodel.” The woman ran her fingers through her hair again, like she was under stress.
“I’d like to see it.” January fought the urge to push the woman aside and head to the nearest bathroom. “Are you interested in selling it?”
“Well … um … we were planning to sell after all of the renovations are done.” The woman held out her hand. “I’m Lynne. Lynne Healey.”
January pumped her hand twice. “January Jenkowski.” She rubbed her slightly protruding belly. “I’m pregnant, do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
“As long as you don’t mind the mess, I guess that’s okay.” Lynne nodded behind her toward a door on the left. She studied Susie. “Are you dressed as Cleopatra?”
“I’m an eighth-grade science teacher and we’re mummifying Cornish game hens in class. I wore this to set the mood.” Susie held out her hand. “My name is Susie Sweet, by the way.”
“Uh huh.” Lynne nodded like she was trying to understand but wasn’t quite there yet. She shook Susie’s hand and then stepped to one side. “Why don’t you both come in.”
January took off toward the bathroom. She hurdled over two five-gallon paint buckets and a pile of drop cloths. She made it to the bathroom just in time. A couple of minutes later, she stepped out into the hall and followed the sound of voices.
She loved the original wood floor. It needed refinishing, but that was easy enough. She caught a glimpse of the fireplace. It looked like Lynne and her husband had painted the original tile surrounding the fireplace metallic green. She walked over to it. Why in the hell would anyone paint anything metallic green? She picked up an unopened paint can. The color name printed on the label said, “Exuberant Pink.” The paint smear next to the name was a horrible dark reddish-pink. What were they planning on painting Exuberant Pink?
Cold As January Page 3
