The New Girl In Town. Brenda Harlen
apprehension when she’d seen the house Zoe intended to buy, but her support had never wavered.
As Zoe batted away a cobweb, she wondered what her former colleagues in Manhattan would think now. Then she shook her head, refusing to let her mind continue along that path. She didn’t have time for doubts or recriminations—she needed to get ready for her appointment with the architect.
The taps creaked and the pipes groaned, but Zoe managed to coax water out of the shower head in the main-floor bathroom. It wasn’t very warm or clear, but it was enough to wet a washcloth to scrub over her face and her body. Trying to rinse the shampoo out of her hair was a different story, and she wondered if she should have spent the money on a motel room last night—at least then she could have had a hot shower with good water pressure. But she knew the renovations on the house would be costly, and what was left in her bank account after medical expenses and the down payment wasn’t exactly extravagant.
She banished the negative thoughts. Although the real estate agent had warned her that the house needed a lot of work, Zoe wasn’t afraid of rolling up her sleeves and getting her hands dirty. In fact, she looked forward to it and even believed the work might be therapeutic for her. What worried her was the work she couldn’t do herself—the cost of hiring electricians and plumbers and whatever other tradespeople she might require. Hopefully, Jessica’s husband would be able to tell her exactly what she needed and maybe make some recommendations.
Another quick glance at her watch warned that she had less than ten minutes before he was expected to arrive. She felt the twist of anxiety in her belly as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt. She didn’t know what to expect, what the architect would suggest, what the cost would be.
She glanced around with a more critical eye. Was it a pipe dream to believe she could turn this run-down old home into the proud beauty she knew it had once been?
Well, pipe dream or not, it was hers now—and she was determined to give it her best shot.
The phone was ringing when Mason walked through the front door with Rosie. The dog ran across the room to his water dish and began slurping noisily; Mason picked up the receiver. “Sullivan.”
“You’re there. Good.” Nick Armstrong sounded frazzled, which wasn’t at all like the man Mason had known since college and worked with for almost fifteen years.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I need you to cover an appointment for me this morning.” Then his voice dropped a little as he said, “Hang in, honey. We’re almost there.”
After a brief moment of confusion, Mason realized the second part of his friend’s comment wasn’t directed at him. He also noticed that despite the soothing words, there was a note of panic in Nick’s tone.
“What’s wrong with Jess?” he asked, immediately concerned.
“Her water broke. Only about half an hour ago, but her contractions are already coming hard and strong and way too close together.”
Now Mason understood the panic.
Nick and Jess had both waited a long time for the baby they were finally having, and the thought that anything might go wrong at this stage was too horrific to even contemplate.
“Breathe, honey,” Nick murmured to his wife.
Mason heard Jess’s response—sharp and succinct and completely unlike the cool, poised woman she usually was. That’s what having a baby did to normally calm and rational people, he guessed, and was grateful that parenthood wasn’t looming anywhere in his future.
Marriage and babies? He shuddered at the thought. Hell, just the suggestion of commitment was enough to make him break out in hives. He’d learned a long time ago how completely love could tear apart a person’s life, and he wanted no part of any of it.
His best friend had chosen a different path, however, and Mason was willing to help in any way he could. “Concentrate on your wife,” he said. “I’ll take care of the business.”
“Thanks, Mason.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He winced in automatic sympathy as he heard Jess swear again in the background. “Tell Jess I’ll bring her a pint of strawberry ice cream from Walton’s later.”
“She’ll love that,” his friend said. “I gotta go now—we’re pulling up at the hospital.”
“Wait!” Mason said before his friend could disconnect.
“What?”
“When and where is this appointment?”
He took the information from his friend and smiled as he hung up the phone.
This day, he thought, just keeps getting better and better.
Chapter Two
Zoe recognized Mason as soon as she responded to his knock at her front door.
He’d shaved and changed into khaki pants with a shirt and tie rather than the jeans and T-shirt he’d had on earlier, and he didn’t have the mammoth beast with him, but the deep blue eyes and sexy smile left her in no doubt that it was her neighbor.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“We have an appointment,” Mason said, unfazed by the lack of welcome in her question.
“You’re Jessica’s husband?”
“No.” His quick response was confirmed by an emphatic shake of his head. “I’m his business partner. Nick sent me along with his apologies for not being able to meet with you personally. He was on his way to the hospital—it looks like Jessica is going to have the baby today.”
It had been apparent to Zoe when she’d been introduced to Jessica Armstrong that the other woman was nearing the end of a pregnancy, but she hadn’t realized she was quite that far along.
“I know you were expecting Nick,” Mason continued. “But I’m sure you understand that he needed to be with his wife right now.”
“Of course,” she agreed immediately. But she couldn’t help remembering when she’d been in the hospital, without her husband by her side. It hadn’t been a happy occasion but the beginning of the end of their marriage.
“Zoe?”
Her attention snapped back to the present.
“Sorry,” she apologized automatically. “My thoughts were just wandering.”
“Would you rather reschedule when Nick is available?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to reschedule. I just want to know what has to be done to fix this house.”
“How much time do you have?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just suggesting you take a good, hard look around you,” Mason said.
She did, and she saw the beauty that had been neglected. The gleam of the hardwood under the layers of dust, the sparkle of the leaded-glass windows beneath the grime, the intricate details of the trims and moldings behind the spider webs. She saw history that needed to be preserved and promise waiting to be fulfilled. But she wasn’t comfortable telling him any of those things, so all she said was, “The real estate agent assured me that the building is structurally sound.”
“The foundation looks solid,” he admitted. “But the roof needs to be replaced, the chimneys need to be reconstructed and the porch rebuilt. And that’s just what I could see from the outside. If you really want a home here, it would probably be easier and cheaper to tear this building down and start over again.”
It might be easier and cheaper, but it wasn’t what she wanted to do. She needed to fix the house—to prove it was valuable and worthwhile