Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  She glared. “I am them.”

  Chapter 2

  Jeremiah sipped his lemonade and frowned at his parents’ back yard.

  “Was she impressed?” His mother pulled out one of the chairs at the table on the patio and sat, rubbing her arms. “Still a little chilly in the evenings. Spring isn’t here yet. Not completely.”

  “She wants me to help with the stonework repair. So, I guess so. But she’s no slouch.” He pushed the card across the table.

  “This is the group you wanted to work with. You never did say why you decided not to go.”

  Jeremiah hunched his shoulders. He still wasn’t ready to talk about it. He’d been foolish to think Elise would welcome him tagging along. He saw that now. At the time, he’d thought they were in love. That they’d be moving to D.C. with a plan to marry sooner than later. Last he heard, she was dating one of the executives at the news station where she worked—someone who could provide more status than a carpenter-slash-handyman. Even if he was a darn good one of those. “I like it here, Ma. Can we leave it at that?”

  “Sure. Working up on Peacock Hill though, that’s a dream come true.”

  He nodded. He’d been saving up to buy it himself. But he was a year, possibly two, away from that reality. And now. Well, at least he could make sure the stonework got done right. “She didn’t say what she planned to do after she fixed it up.”

  His mom laid her hand on his. “Maybe it’ll be something nice.”

  “Sure. I guess. I just hate to see it become a private home when it has such a rich history. People should get to see it.” If she kept any of the original character, at least. There weren’t many Gilded Age mansions in Virginia. Even if this was just a summer home. It was a part of history that needed to be kept alive. He surged to his feet. “Anyway. Mulling it over isn’t going to get the bills paid. I need to stop by Mrs. Anderson’s and make sure her sink is still draining. Thanks for letting me stop by.”

  “You know you’re welcome here anytime.” His mom stood and wrapped him in her arms. “You also know I want grandchildren someday, right?”

  “Yeah, I got that. Kinda need to find a wife first. And so far, I haven’t figured out which aisle they’re using for those in the hardware store.”

  “Well, as long as you’re looking.”

  With a laugh, Jeremiah kissed his mom’s cheek and strode toward his truck, his thoughts straying to the petite and lovely Deidre McIntyre.

  “Let me help you with that.” Jeremiah reached for the box that teetered on a high shelf and lifted it down to the flatbed cart in the aisle.

  “I had it.” The woman huffed and turned, nearly bumping into his chest. “Oh. It’s you.”

  Jeremiah blinked before grinning. “Hi there.”

  She frowned. “Thanks. But I had it.”

  Was it worth arguing with the woman? The box had clearly been headed for the floor, despite the fact she’d had two fingertips on it. “Okay. Well. Sorry to intrude then. I’ll just be going.”

  Jeremiah lifted a hand and turned, heading down the aisle to get to the back of the store where they hid all the plumbing supplies. He’d been after them to rearrange for years, but so far, no dice. If the big chain hardware stores did something one way, Al was determined that his store was going to be the opposite. Even if it meant huge quantities of roofing supplies were front and center for the three people who cared about finding them, and the plumbing supplies that every Saturday-handyman needed were tucked away in a back corner. But Al was here in town. The closest chain store was a twenty-minute drive away. And at this point, Jeremiah knew where everything was anyway. Roofing.

  Was she really going to fix that roof herself? The one time he’d managed to get inside Peacock Hill, which hadn’t been a strictly legal undertaking, the twelve-foot ceilings had seemed impossibly high. Three stories of those…she’d be over forty feet up. He shivered. No thank you.

  He rummaged through the pipes and grabbed what he’d need to fix Mrs. Anderson’s sink. Again. Maybe he’d swing by the roofing…no. She didn’t want his help. She’d made that clear. Which was too bad, ‘cause if it wasn’t for her personality, she’d be exactly the kind of woman he was searching for.

  Jeremiah swung into the tile section. His kitchen needed help. Most of his house did. It was a perfect example of what happened to a house from the 50s when it was updated by inept homeowners in the late 70s and left vacant in the mid-90s. But it had good bones and a lot of land. Plus, it kept him busy when work was slow.

  Glass tile might be interesting. He paused and considered the options.

  “Don’t. Just…don’t.”

  He turned, eyebrows raised. Deidre’s flatbed was loaded higher than was strictly safe. How was she pulling that? Her arms must have serious definition. He flicked his gaze down, but a bulky sweater precluded any confirmation of that supposition. “Why not?”

  “You’re a bachelor, right?”

  He nodded.

  “And glass tile, particularly with the electric blue underlay, screams that from the rooftops. Particularly if you’re putting it in your kitchen.”

  His mouth fell open. “How did you know I was thinking about my kitchen?”

  Deidre shrugged. “I’ve done too many kitchen renos for men. They all start out wanting glass tile. My designer spends hours convincing them to consider something that won’t be dated before the grout is dry.”

  “How many listen?” The tile was cool. Modern. Would it be dated that fast? Maybe.

  “About half. The half that don’t are good repeat business when they settle down and their wife gets a hold of the kitchen.”

  He snickered. “All right. What do you suggest?”

  “That’s not really my thing. But I can get you my designer’s contact info. She’s coming down soon. She could probably squeeze in a consult.”

  “Come on. What would you choose for your kitchen?” He gestured to the wall of offerings. “There has to be something here.”

  Blowing out a breath, Deidre took two steps and touched a marble mosaic. “Kitchen backsplash? This. It’s pretty, but not so much that it overwhelms.”

  “Hm. I guess I could see that. Probably not with the countertops I’m making, but if you went with a traditional granite, that would be nice.”

  Her eyes lit with interest. “What are your countertops going to be?”

  “Concrete. They’re already finished, just need to cure a little more before installation.” He could hardly wait. They looked good. Better than he’d hoped, given that he’d followed directions culled from various blogs and DIY websites.

  “You should wait until they’re installed before you tile. You’ll want to match the finish—did you color them?”

  Jeremiah nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He swiped through his pictures ‘til he found the photo he’d texted his mom. “This is the underside, but you get the idea.”

  “Ooh.” She glanced up, her gaze locking with his. “You made those? By yourself?”

  “So it seems.” He put away his phone and sighed. No tile today. She was right. He should wait until the counters were in. But he was itching for a project he could knock out in a day. Nothing else in his house was going to offer instant satisfaction. Unless he decided to paint. But choosing a paint color was worse than deciding on tile. And what was wrong with plain white, anyway? “Thanks for the help.”

  Jeremiah tossed Danny a soda from the cooler and propped his feet on the deck railing.

  “I still can’t believe you’re going to be working up at Peacock. Or that someone bought the place. How long has it been sitting on the market, six years?” Danny popped the tab and took a long drink.

  “Five. Empty longer than that.”

  Danny snorted. “Remember when we broke in? I thought it’d be creepy. But it’s really nice inside. Think the new owner’s going to keep any of it?”

  “Hard to say. She’s not much on talking. Not about herself at least.” Jeremiah frowned. She’
d go on and on about tile choices though. Still, she’d been right. When he’d inspected the countertops currently curing in his garage, it had been clear that glass tile wouldn’t be the look he wanted. Neither would the mosaic. He’d have to wait and see.

  “Dude.”

  “What?” Jeremiah glanced at his friend.

  “You spaced out. I asked if you thought you’d get any of the renovation work.”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “I took her over to my folks’ house to see the stonework I did. She seemed to be impressed. I guess we’ll see. She had a cart loaded up with roofing supplies when I saw her at Al’s. Turns out he wasn’t crazy for stocking all the cedar shingles. I’m pretty sure she bought every last one.”

  “Well I know you’re not volunteering to help with the roof.”

  “She looks like she can handle it.”

  Danny tapped a finger on the side of his soda can. “Ugly then? Mannish?”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “Nah. She’s cute. Pretty, even. Tiny though. I don’t think she’s more than five two. Probably weighs a whole hundred pounds on a good day. It’s hard to imagine she’s the muscle behind D-Constructs.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No lie.”

  “Did we know that was a girl?”

  Jeremiah shook his head. Not that it mattered. It didn’t. His mom could swing a hammer about as well as his dad. But it had been a shock to discover the owner of his dream job looked a lot like a famous cartoon fairy.

  Chapter 3

  Deidre set down the pitchfork and stretched her back. She’d been second guessing redoing the whole roof since she started. There were pieces here and there that probably were fine, but when all was said and done, the right choice was a complete replacement. At least the local hardware was well-supplied. And then she’d run into Jeremiah. That man was…there was no good word. ‘Exasperating’ came close.

  And hot.

  She didn’t have time for hot. Plus, he’d been serious about the glass tile. Maybe if he lived in some sort of glass and steel modern monstrosity he could get away with it. But she hadn’t seen any houses out here that looked like that. And he loved Peacock Hill. That much was obvious from the way he talked about it. Which added another word: endearing.

  She didn’t have time for that, either.

  Her neck popped as she rolled her head in a circle before bending to the monotonous task of prying up cedar shakes. She’d been at it for a couple of hours and figured she had another hour, maybe two, left before it was too dark to be up on the roof safely. She’d get the rest of it off with a full day tomorrow and, if she was lucky, get started on the new one the day after that. At least there was no rain in the forecast.

  The crunch of tires on gravel drew her attention as she finished one long stretch. She gathered up a pile of shingles and heaved them over the side to the open-topped construction dumpster that had been delivered while she’d been out with Jeremiah that morning. It wasn’t where she would have chosen to park it, but it worked. And since she’d had no idea they were coming today, she wasn’t going to be choosy. Even if she had to remind herself of that every time she saw the thing.

  She grabbed her tools and lowered them to the ground with the pulley system she’d rigged, then descended the ladder.

  “Are you insane?” Lisette slammed the door of her shiny silver coupe and stood with her hands on her hips. “Isn’t roofing a two-person job?”

  “I don’t have two people. It’s perfectly safe. I know what I’m doing.” Deidre cocked her head to one side. “But I thought you had clients and couldn’t possibly come down.”

  Her friend lifted one shoulder. “I don’t have to meet with them in person again for another week or two. I can make design presentations anywhere I have a computer. And I had a niggling feeling you’d be doing something stupid, so I came down here to save you from yourself.”

  Deidre shook her head. “I’ve been up on a roof alone before. And will be again. It’s part of the job. But it’s nice that you’re offering to help. I hope you brought better shoes than those.”

  Lisette glanced down at her footwear. “I…”

  Deidre smirked. “Kidding. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  Clicking the lock button on her key fob, Lisette wobbled across the gravel to the paved part of the driveway. “You’re going to pave this whole thing, right? Down to the road? Maybe stamped concrete, that’d be pretty.”

  And cost a mint. She’d been mulling the options, but for now the gravel was fine. In the winter…well, she might wish for paving then, but that was a long way off. “We’ll see.”

  Lisette stopped next to Deidre and stared at the house in front of her. “It’s…something.”

  Deidre nodded, ignoring her friend’s lack of enthusiasm. It got her every time she looked. The stone steps that led to a colonnaded porch. The matching square towers on either side of the house. And the floor-to-ceiling windows on the main floor that, given a little TLC, would once again double as additional entrances to the entertaining spaces. “Isn’t it? I found a guy who can do the stonework. Once I get her reroofed and the cosmetics outside taken care of, she’ll be a beauty.”

  “I guess. It’s better inside, right? It has to be.”

  Deidre pushed open the front door and waved Lisette inside. She was either going to love it or hate it. There was never any in-between. After a brief mental debate, Deidre bet on hate. It wasn’t shiny and sleek. Nor was it shabby chic. And those were the only two decorating styles her friend used. “Well?”

  “That staircase.”

  It was the first thing you saw when you walked in. Three times the width of a normal staircase, it rose half the height of the high-ceilinged room to a landing where you could turn and finish ascending on either side. Above the landing was an enormous stained glass window depicting Peacock Hill in its glory days, complete with a flock of its namesakes parading their tail feathers for unseen hens. Miraculously, that was the one window that hadn’t been broken.

  Lisette climbed to the landing and reached up, touching the glass. She turned back with a frown. “You’re going to take this out, right?”

  “No. It’s amazing. Why would I…” Deidre shook her head. “Just no.”

  “It’s not safe. Think about it. They used real lead in this stuff back then. All of this,” Lisette gestured expansively, “is a death trap. There’s probably asbestos and who knows what. Honestly, Deidre. Can’t you sell it and just come home?”

  Deidre crossed to the stairs and sat, patting the space next to her. “What’s going on, Lis?”

  Shoulders slumping, Lisette moved to sit beside Deidre. She slipped her cell phone from her purse, swiped a few times, and offered it to Deidre.

  Frowning, Deidre took the phone. As she read, her blood began to boil. “He dumped you in a text? What are we, twelve?”

  Lisette shrugged, her eyes glistening. “I thought he was the one, with a capital O.”

  “Men are pigs.” Deidre slung her arm around her friend’s shoulders and squeezed. “Come on, let’s go into town and get some dinner. And ice cream.”

  “We drove all that way for this?” Lisette frowned at the glowing chili pepper on the sign of the chain restaurant.

  “Look, we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere here. So yes, I drove to the closest big town to find something I knew you’d be okay with. I haven’t tried either of the two places available in what passes for a town at the bottom of the hill on which my new house sits.” Deidre yanked open the door and strode in. It wasn’t like this was her idea of awesome either. But it was what they had available unless they wanted to drive an hour the other direction to Charlottesville. And the house more than made up for it. She held up two fingers for the hostess and glanced around. Didn’t look like they were doing a bustling business on Tuesday night.

  Lisette flopped into the booth across from Deidre and scowled at the menu. “So how long are you stuck down here?”

  “I’m not sure.” T
his probably wasn’t the time to mention she wasn’t planning to go back north. Sure, maybe the options were limited down here when it came to eating out, but there were benefits, too. All the land. No traffic. It was the perfect place for a getaway. She couldn’t be the only one who thought so…which meant she had something to offer, a way to make a living that didn’t involve swinging a hammer.

  “What’s that mean? You’re not thinking of staying down here? What about your business? And…this? Come on, D. Aren’t you going to miss being able to zip into D.C. whenever you want? There’s so much to do at home. A big night out doesn’t involve fake Tex Mex.” Lisette leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

  Deidre rubbed the back of her neck. “Don’t you get tired of all the hustle? There’s never any quiet. Last night I lay in my bed and there was nothing. No cars. No sirens. I think I slept better than I have in years.”

  “You actually like it here.” Lisette seemed to collapse in on herself. “You’re staying.”

  “I think I might. Yeah.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.” Lisette huffed out a breath. “What are you going to do with yourself?”

  Deidre smiled at the server who appeared at the table with waters, rattled off a disinterested greeting, and took their orders.

  “Spill it.” Lisette unrolled her silverware and pinned Deidre with her gaze.

  So much for getting out of that explanation. She took a long drink. “I was thinking maybe a B&B or weddings. Maybe both.”

  Lisette laughed. “Be serious. What’s your plan?”

  Deidre bristled. “Why can’t that be my plan?”

  “Because most people want frills and fripperies at their wedding and you’re the biggest tomboy I’ve ever met. Do you even own a dress?”

  “I have some skirts. What does that even have to do with anything?”

  “If you don’t know, I can’t explain it to you other than to ask you to consider what it is most people wear to weddings. Hint: it’s not jeans.”

  Deidre shrugged. “Okay, so maybe not weddings. People come down here to hike and sightsee. A B&B is better than a motel. Maybe in time, it could expand to a full-out resort. Add on a spa…what?”