Their Forever Home. Syndi Powell
it outside and exchanged it for another empty one. As he walked back through the house, he watched Tiny roll the last of the carpet into one long, wet roll and throw it over his shoulder. Cassie yanked a bandanna from her back pocket and wiped her forehead before tying it around her hair. “I’ll have to bring fans tomorrow to keep us cool while we’re working if this heat continues.”
“It should. It’s the end of May.”
“You never know. It’s also Michigan, so we could get a cold front at any moment.” She stared at John, her head cocked to one side. “You might not want to wear your best pair of jeans for this job. Especially during demo.”
John looked down at his pants. “This isn’t my best pair.”
“I’m just saying you’re not going to want to wear nice clothes when we’re at these beginning stages. If ever.” She pulled at the edge of her tank top. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to replace these because of paint splatter or because of rips and tears.”
“I get it, Cassie.”
She watched him for a moment and then nodded. “I know.”
But her expression at what he wore made him think she did believe him to be slightly clueless. He swallowed a rebuke and returned to the bathroom, where Biggie sat on the edge of the tub, wiping his forehead with a rag. John bent and started putting more debris into the bin. Biggie stood and put a hand on John’s shoulder, making him look up. “She’s only looking out for you, you know?”
Surprised the big man could be soft-spoken, John nodded and returned to his job.
THE DUMPSTER ARRIVED and was positioned between their house and the one next door, which was assigned to Butler Construction. Cassie wheeled the first bin of debris to dump into the huge receptacle and almost stumbled over Nick, one of her competitors. He tossed an armful of rotten wood panels into the dumpster, then watched her empty the bin from her side.
“Congratulations on being one of the finalists,” he offered.
“You, too. But then I figured you were a shoo-in.”
He grinned. “Well, I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but my brothers and I also landed a huge contract for a subdivision.”
The crown jewel for a contractor. A subdivision meant years of steady work and income. Her father hadn’t had a contract like that for a while. “That’s great, Nick. Will your brothers be able to do it on their own with you here?”
“They’ll keep me in the loop until the contest is over.” He looked behind her toward her house. “Is yours as big of a nightmare as ours?”
She didn’t want to give too much of their situation away to a fellow competitor. Better to keep certain things to herself for now. “I’ve seen worse, but we’ll be fine. My designer has a lot of big ideas.”
“The car guy? No offense, Cass, but what does he know about designing a home?”
Hearing him voice her own doubts about John raised her hackles. “Knows a lot more than Tiffany, whose idea of high concept is open space filled with tchotchkes and knickknacks.”
Nick bristled at the insult to his partner’s design ideas and left. Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have antagonized the first contractor to have been nice to her. But then, he’d tried to make her doubt John’s abilities, and for better or worse they were a team. She turned to find John holding a rolled-up piece of carpet on his shoulder. She wondered how much of the conversation he’d heard.
He threw the carpet into the dumpster. “You shouldn’t be fraternizing with the enemy. He’s trying to get under your skin and undermine your confidence...”
“I know he is.”
“...and to make me look like the reason you’ll lose.”
The truth was, some of John’s ideas had already made her wonder if she’d been paired with the wrong person. She needed to win this contest, and that meant having a designer who would knock the socks off the judges. She wasn’t yet convinced that John was that person. She pointed at him. “You better not let me down.”
“Back at you.” He turned on his heel but paused, then continued down the sidewalk past other homes in the neighborhood.
Where was he going? They had work to do, and he was choosing to go on a stroll? Now? She shook her head and pushed the bin back to the house. Tiny sat on an upside-down garbage can, chugging a bottle of water. He finished and gestured behind her. “Where’s John?”
“Went for a walk.”
Tiny gave her a look. “What did you say to him?”
She held out her hands at her sides. “How do you know it’s what I said?”
“Because if he said something goofy to you, you’d be the one walking around the neighborhood to calm your temper.”
“I told him not to let me down.”
Tiny removed his ball cap and scratched at his balding head. “Isn’t it kind of early to start doubting his abilities?”
She knew he was right, but she wasn’t ready to concede just yet. “I haven’t seen much of his abilities beyond pencil sketches and ideas to use trash to make wall hangings.”
“And you wonder why he walked off?”
She sighed and leaned on the doorframe to the kitchen. “I need this win. We all do if we want to keep Daddy’s company going.”
“It’ll take more than winning a contest for that to happen, sweetie, and you know it.”
Tiny didn’t understand. No one seemed to. Winning meant she could prove to everyone that she was just as good a builder as her father. And maybe prove it to herself. If she won, that would mean restarting Lowman Construction under her management. She could be what she’d always wanted—her own boss. Was it too much to ask for?
JOHN GOT TO the end of the street before it ended at the large avenue, crossed and started his trek back. What had he been thinking? Was this contest really the answer to his worries? He’d been lost and floundering, unsure of what to do next. The announcement by the Belvedere Foundation seemed to be the solution he’d been waiting for. What if it hadn’t been? What if he had put all his hopes in something that would lead to nothing? If they won, his designs would be seen across the country. With that kind of exposure and his half of the quarter of a million dollars, he could start his own business. They’d be his own deadlines rather than having to answer to a supervisor who left things to the last minute and expected him to accomplish the impossible.
He passed several more homes and slowed his pace. These ones sat closer to the main road and seemed older and more unique than the cookie-cutter-style homes at the other end that they were renovating. His fingers itched, and he wished that he’d brought his sketchpad. That and water, since the day was so warm. He stopped to wipe his forehead, then peered up at the scorching sun.
“You look like you could use a drink of water, young man.”
John shielded his eyes to see where the voice had come from. An older woman, fanning herself, was sitting on a wooden glider on a covered porch. He walked up the short path to her house. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a hot one today.”
She pointed at the porch steps. “You stay there. I’ll be right back.”
He put a foot on the first step and waited. The woman returned with a glass of water that had about a dozen cubes of ice floating in it.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He took a long drink, then placed the cool glass against his sweaty forehead. “That hits the spot.”
She