Reason to Breathe

by Deborah Raney

  But maybe that was as much her own fault as his. She shot up a prayer for a quick attitude adjustment. “I called him the other night, but we didn’t talk long. He seemed in a big hurry to get off the phone. He thinks the property is a good idea for us. And it sounded like he did ask Quinn to approach us about it. I guess that makes me feel a little better.”

  “Would you be willing to go look at it again tonight?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Well, I guess it doesn’t have to be today. But we don’t want to wait too long. I think Quinn’s right that once people realize they’ve come down on the price, it might sell quickly.”

  “And you think we should buy it?”

  “Britt and I have talked about it a lot, Phee. I’m excited about it. I really am. But we couldn’t do it without you and—sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound like a threat or anything. But Britt and I were talking and … well, if you’re not interested, we might even see if we can find a third partner to go in with us. Maybe Quinn.”

  Phee’s jaw dropped. “He wants in on it himself?” Is that what this was all about? But Dad had been behind the idea.

  “No, no …” Jo sighed. “We haven’t even talked to Quinn. We’re hoping you’ll go in with us. You’re our first choice. But Britt and I want to do it. No matter what.”

  Phee felt immediately guilty for having accused Quinn, even in her mind. “Wow. I just don’t get how you both are suddenly so full-steam-ahead on this.”

  “We just got to talking, and the more we talked, the more we got excited. If the three of us went in on this, we’d all have more freedom. No mortgage, an investment, income from the rentals. Britt and I could go back to school and—”

  “Fine. I’ll go. Just to look.”

  “Oh good! Thanks, Phee. Any night this week would work for me, and probably for Britt. I might talk to Quinn about it too. He sounded as if he might be interested in the property himself, so maybe he’d want to go in with us if you decided not to.”

  “Wait … Don’t say anything to him yet. I want a chance to look at the place again. To be honest, I wasn’t really looking at it with the idea of making an offer the first time.” She’d just been humoring Quinn. But wow. They were really serious about this.

  “Don’t worry.” Phee could almost hear the smirk in Joanna’s words. “We won’t offer him a partnership or anything until you’re sure you don’t want in on this. But I’d feel better if we had Quinn to help negotiate with the real estate agent. After that, I can find my way around the legal stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Quinn doesn’t necessarily have to come with us to look at the property, but I’d feel better if he did.”

  “I can talk to him if you want me to.” She wasn’t sure where that had come from, but she felt oddly grateful for an excuse to call him.

  “Oh, that’d be great, sis! I’m so glad!”

  Phee knew that barely controlled pitch in her sister’s voice. “I haven’t said yes, Jo.”

  “I know. I know … I’m not rushing you. But … I am excited. Britt will be too.”

  Despite her prayer of a minute ago, Phee didn’t dare tell her sisters that she was starting to get a little excited about the whole idea herself.

  The more she thought about Quinn coming in to buy them flowers, the more she regretted not letting him do just that. It was the kind of thing Dad would do … at least he would have before he went nuts and moved to Florida.

  Her phone rang almost as soon as she disconnected from talking to Jo. She checked the screen.

  “Hi, Dad.” No doubt he’d heard about the whole police fiasco. “How’s it going?” Hearing the tentativeness in her own voice, she knew Dad would pick up on it too. They hadn’t exactly ended on a happy note last night.

  “Hi, honey. I know you’re at work, so I’ll make this quick.”

  “It’s okay. I’m on my lunch break. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. I’m just calling to let you know that your mom’s money has been deposited in all you girls’ accounts. You should be able to access it now.”

  Something in his voice—was it finality?—made her want to cry. “Oh. Thank you, Dad. Wow … that was quick.”

  “Not really. But I got it in there as soon as I could. Have you made any decisions about the property?” Now he was pressuring her too? She wondered if Jo had put him up to this.

  “I’m going to go look at it again with Jo and Britt tonight.”

  “That’s good. Well, there shouldn’t be anything keeping you from jumping on the deal now. So, you girls all like the idea? The property?”

  “Jo and Britt are sold, that’s for sure. I’m still kind of on the fence, but we’re—” The flower shop phone rang from both the front desk and the wall phone behind her.

  “Sounds like you need to go. No worries. I just wanted to let you know about the deposits.”

  “Wait! Dad, can you hang on for just a sec?”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re at work. We can talk later.”

  “Wait, Dad …” But the line was already dead. What was his deal? Something just wasn’t right, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Chapter 11

  It had all happened so fast. One minute, she didn’t even know if she wanted to take a second look at the property, and now, here she stood, barely two weeks later with the keys to not one, but three houses in hand. Three stone cottages on Poplar Brook Road that she and her sisters now owned free and clear. It seemed a bit surreal.

  But a little thrill went through her. Chased by a shard of sheer terror. What had they gotten themselves into?

  “Congratulations. And happy Valentine’s Day, ladies.” Quinn grinned as if he’d won some huge wager. “Every Valentine’s Day, you’ll remember the day you closed on your first homes.”

  “Maybe,” Joanna said, “but you know who we’re calling the first time something falls apart.”

  “Or the first time we have another mouse incident.” Phee shivered at the memory.

  He laughed. “There is absolutely nothing to worry about. The exterminators have done their thing, and once Melvin moves in, you likely won’t see another mouse within a two-mile radius.” He looked from Phee to her sisters. “When do you think you’ll move in?”

  “We want to get this cottage painted and cleaned first. We’re hoping to get in this weekend and get started.”

  “Do you have somebody coming, or are you doing the work yourself?” He scraped a trail in the dusting of snow on the porch with the toe of his boot. “I know a guy. Good painter. And he’s cheap.”

  “Really?” Phee didn’t want to spend a fortune on this cottage. The two smaller cottages would take most of their leftover cash, and those were the ones that stood to make them some income. At least she hoped so. “Can you give me his number?”

  “If you’re game, I’ll just have him show up Saturday ready to paint.”

  “How do you know he’s available on such short notice?”

  “I’m pretty sure he is. But I’ll let you know right away if not.”

  She shrugged. “Sure. That’d be great. We’ll have the paint and supplies here and be ready to go. Say eight o’clock?”

  “Sounds good.”

  She had a feeling she knew just what guy was going to be showing up to paint Saturday. And even though she still felt a little bit as if they’d been hoodwinked into this deal, Quinn had held their hands all the way. The whole process had gone as smoothly as she could imagine such a thing going—not that she’d ever bought a house before. Let alone three of them. And they had Quinn to thank for so much.

  They hadn’t even told Dad about the closing yet, although she had a feeling Quinn had been in touch with him all along. Dad had emailed her and her sisters the bank deposit slips. Another reminder that Mom was gone and was never coming back. Maybe Dad too. Her throat tightened and tears threatened.

  She still struggled with the whole thing. Dad up and moving away. And supposedly getti
ng married? She couldn’t let herself dwell on it. Thankfully, the process of buying the property had occupied her thoughts in recent days. Still, in those moments just before sleep overtook her each night, her heart broke to think she’d lost both of her parents. Never mind that she was almost thirty. She didn’t think there ever came a time when it didn’t break your heart to lose loving parents.

  And to have her life change so drastically—even if, ultimately, those changes turned out for the best—seemed like the worst possible timing. If ever she and her sisters needed stability, it was now.

  “Okay, well, I think I’m going to take off.” Quinn put on his newsie cap, then tipped it in their direction. “You girls celebrate! You made a very good investment. You won’t regret this decision.”

  Joanna gave him a spontaneous hug. “Thank you for everything, Quinn.”

  Phee felt unaccountably shy. “Yes. Thank you. I’m not sure we could have done it without you.” She couldn’t bring herself to hug Quinn, even though Britt had gotten in line behind Jo to thank him with a bear hug.

  “Of course you could have,” he said. “You just needed someone to give you a little push.”

  “More like a shove off a steep cliff.” She sort of meant it, yet she was glad when Quinn shot her a quick wink.

  “Whatever it takes.” Grinning, he turned and walked toward his car.

  She had to admit, she was going to miss seeing Quinn Mitchell almost daily as they had these last few weeks. Her father’s friend and employee had, in many ways, stepped in and done the things Dad should have been here doing.

  After Quinn’s SUV disappeared onto the highway, Phee turned to her sisters, determined not to ruin the celebratory mood. “We did it, guys!”

  “I know.” Joanna had a deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes. “I hope we know what we’re doing.”

  “Of course we don’t.” Britt grinned. “That’s what makes it so exciting.”

  “Fine. If it’s excitement you’re looking for”—Jo threw Phee a wink—“we’ll let you sleep in one of the old cottages.”

  “Nice try. But I’ll be happy to take the smallest bedroom—until we get one of the other cottages livable.”

  Phee yawned. “I need to get home. It’s been a long week.”

  “I bet.” Jo nodded. “What were you thinking trying to close on the property right smack in the middle of the flower shop’s busiest week of the year?”

  “I have no clue. I apparently wasn’t thinking.”

  “Well, it’s done now,” Joanna crowed. “We’re homeowners, sisters!”

  “And speaking of which, back here on Saturday to paint?” Phee hated to be a party pooper, but all she could see was the work that needed to be done before they could actually move in. “Can you both make it?”

  “I’m in.” Britt practically beamed.

  “I’ll be here.” Jo seemed more sober.

  “Hey …” Phee touched Jo’s sleeve. “You’re not having buyer’s remorse are you?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway. I might change my tune after Saturday though. Anybody want me to pick up coffee on my way out?”

  “Let me just bring a coffee maker. We’ll want one out here anyway.” And it would save them a chunk of change. They were going to have to start living frugally until they knew what it would take to get the cottages livable.

  “Okay.” Jo squinted in skepticism. “Just don’t forget.”

  Phee laughed. Jo loved her coffee more than most.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t forget your precious coffee. And I might come out here after work tomorrow too. Just to do some cleaning. Anybody else want to come?”

  “I’m so sorry, you guys, but I have to work late.” Joanna’s wrinkled brow said she was more worried than she let on. “I’m a little nervous they’re going to ask me to work Saturday too. We’re working a pretty big case.”

  “I can help you, Phee,” Britt offered. “I’ll bring some cleaning supplies from Mom and Dad’s house.”

  Phee checked the calendar on her phone. “Okay. Will five thirty work?”

  “Sure. That’ll give us almost an hour of daylight too.”

  “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Joanna looked genuinely disappointed. “And don’t do anything too fun without me.”

  “Don’t worry, Jo, we’ll save the cleaning of the toilets just for you.” Phee grinned, but she wished she felt as enthusiastic as her sisters.

  Phee turned a three-sixty on one heel in the middle of the living room, surveying their cottage. The smell of coffee brewing mingled with the clean scents of Windex, Clorox, and a host of other cleaning products, making her forget the musty smell the house had worn the day they’d first looked at it. She and Britt had accomplished so much the last few nights, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom and wiping down the cupboards. Last night, when Joanna had joined them, they’d washed all the walls and cleaned the windows inside and out in preparation for painting.

  She ran a hand along the spotless windowsill. It was hard to believe what a difference simply washing windows made. With the film of grime gone, sun streamed through the divided panes, casting a charming gridwork of shadows on the wood floors. They’d discovered that the old hardwood floors were in surprisingly good shape and would probably just need a good polishing for now.

  She wished Mom could see what Grandma Clayton’s inheritance had bought. Phee thought her mother would be pleased. Dad too. The familiar ache radiated from the vicinity of her heart. If Dad even cared anymore. She couldn’t let herself think about him right now. It was too painful, too confusing.

  She checked her phone. Almost eight o’clock. Quinn had texted earlier that “the paint guy” would be there by eight. Jo and Britt weren’t coming until nine, so Phee had volunteered to come early and let the guy in. She’d be surprised if it was anyone but Quinn Mitchell himself.

  She stepped out the back kitchen door and looked up into the woods that cradled the cottages. Quinn had walked the property, and she and her sisters had viewed it via satellite maps and photographs, but it was too cold right now to actually go exploring. She couldn’t wait until the weather became warmer so she could see for herself what was back there.

  Their property was only eight acres, but they had only one neighbor, and that house couldn’t be seen from anywhere on the property—even with all the tree branches leafless—thanks to the dense woods and a nice slope on the lot.

  Spring here promised to be glorious. She hoped they’d get some rain, so the “waterfront” property might boast some actual water. As long as it wasn’t too much. Despite Quinn’s reassurance, the stone walls around the two small cottages made her a little nervous, as if they’d been built of necessity to keep the water out of the yards. In their current state, she feared they’d be more like giant sieves.

  She heard tires on the gravel on the other side of the house and went around to greet the painter. Sure enough, Quinn’s SUV was coming up the lane. Smiling, she stood in the side yard and watched until he got out of the vehicle. He wore blue jeans, a sweatshirt, and a ball cap. It was a good look on him. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him in anything but dressy khakis or a suit and tie. He went around to open the back hatch and extracted a folding ladder and what looked like pieces of scaffolding.

  She didn’t think he’d spotted her yet, so she ducked into the shadows, went back around to the kitchen door, and walked through the house to the front porch, trying in vain to come up with a witty comment about his attire.

  He looked up when the front screen door slammed. “Good morning.” He gave a nod, his arms full of painting equipment.

  “What’s going on?” She feigned innocence. “Did your guy back out on us?”

  His grin turned sheepish. “Nope. He’s here right on time.”

  “So you’re the guy?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Quinn … Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because I figured you’d argue and tell me not to come.”
/>   “Well, you’re right about that.” She sighed and tilted her head. “So are you as cheap as this ‘other’ guy?”

  “Even cheaper.”

  “Then quit standing around and get to work.”

  His laughter followed her into the house. And for some crazy reason, the sound of it made this place feel like home.

  Chapter 12

  Quinn laid his paint roller carefully in the pan and stepped back to admire their handiwork. They’d only been working on it a little over an hour, but Britt and Phylicia already had all of the woodwork taped off, except for in the wallpapered bedrooms. He had trimmed and rolled one whole wall in the living room, and the transformation was amazing.

  He could tell Phylicia felt it too. She kept stepping away from the wall, tilting her head and squinting, as if imagining what the finished house would look like. And judging by that smile, she was pleased with what she envisioned.

  They had the doors open to ventilate the paint fumes, and though the temperature outside was in the forties, the winter sun warmed the room and splashed dappled patches of yellow across the wood floors.

  Joanna appeared in the front doorway. “Looking good, you guys. Wow!”

  Britt blew a strand of hair from her eyes. “Glad you could finally make it.”

  Phylicia didn’t say anything, but Quinn sensed tension in the set of her jaw. He’d seen that expression before when Joanna was late for something—which seemed to be most of the time. He made a note to steer clear of the topic. The last thing he needed was to get in the middle of a sister fight.

  Joanna and Britt started on the dining room and kitchen, while he and Phylicia finished painting the living room. He breathed a sigh of relief when the last touch-up was done, and he stood back to take in the results. “Looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

  Phylicia nodded. “Better than I expected.” But her eyes said she was more than happy with the way it had turned out.

  Even if the two smaller houses turned out to be closer to tearer-downers than fixer-uppers, this cottage was going to be one stunning place. Already, it made him think of Turner and Myra’s house, which had always exuded a kind of warmth owed to the decor, but to something more than that. He thought Phee had inherited her mother’s gift for making a house become a home.