The Christmas Family. Линда Гуднайт
I’ll just... Can I follow you around?”
He chuckled. “It’s your house.”
Leaving Lila to watch a Veggie Tales with Dawg sprawled adoringly at her side, Abby joined the builder. As they did the walk-through, she saw the house in a new light, from a stranger’s viewpoint, and shame trickled into her stomach.
He must think she was a sorry excuse for a mother, raising her special-needs daughter in a run-down house with nothing more than a safety bar beside the bathtub.
“I installed that myself,” she said, half in self-defense. She didn’t want him judging her. She tried. And for now, she could carry Lila. “I was planning to add more as she grows.”
“You did great.” But he jotted all kinds of notes on that pad of his as he inspected plumbing under the sinks and thumped his big fist against walls. She cringed at the last, concerned he’d go right through.
“We could create a bathroom here specifically for her. Put a walk-in shower there,” he said. “Big enough to accommodate her walker or a wheelchair. Add some bench seating, lower the sink and commode so she can access them herself.”
The ideas made Abby’s heart soar and her eyes water. “That would be wonderful. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“No thanks needed. Gotta make things right for the little princess.” He winked. “Dawg said so.”
She smiled, grateful to him for making light of a humiliating situation. For her, anyway.
They moved through the house and her brain spun as he discussed removing walls, widening halls and rearranging the interior of the house for more space and flow.
Hope, that sneaky weed, sprouted up inside her chest. His ideas were wonderful, beautiful, a dream come true. He was amazing, kind and funny, and Abby found herself looking forward to the days and hours he’d spend in her house making it better.
Though the decision had come slowly, like Cinderella preparing for the ball, she now wanted this makeover badly. For Lila’s sake. Brady really could give her child what she needed.
When they entered her bedroom, Abby was thankful she’d made the bed and tidied up before his arrival. She lingered in the doorway, a little disconcerted to have him in her private space. But she’d have to get used to that, she supposed. He was a builder; he didn’t think anything about it.
Brady pointed to the ceiling and exterior wall. “Some leakage in here.”
“Only when it rains.” She tried to sound chipper, but Brady frowned and her stomach dipped. “Will that be a problem?”
“Depends.” He walked across to the window and the wooden floor groaned. He paused, bounced a little and frowned again. “Where’s your crawl space? Lots of weak spots in the flooring. I’d better have a look at the joists before we get too far into this.”
She didn’t know a joist from a joust, but she knew where the crawl space was, though she couldn’t imagine a man his size crawling under her house. “You’ll get dirty.”
Humor brightened his face. “I’m in construction. We get a little dirty.”
“Yes, but you’re the owner.”
“A hands-on owner. Dad insisted we know the business from the ground up. Literally.” He rotated his wide shoulders and looked down at his large body. “Though nowadays I usually send someone smaller under the houses.”
“I fixed a broken pipe last winter. I could go under there and tell you what I see.”
“Don’t worry. I got it. Be right back.”
“You’ll need a flashlight.”
“In my truck.”
He headed outside while she checked on Lila and Dawg, and then started on kitchen cleanup. She heard him clang on a pipe with something metal, so she knew he’d somehow squeezed into the small space.
He was gone for quite a while and when he came inside, he didn’t look happy.
Putting away the last dish, she dried her hands, worry niggling.
“You have spiderwebs—”
His chin dipped toward his shoulder. “Where?”
“Your hair. Bend down.” Without thinking anything of it, she dusted the cobwebs from his russet hair and the back of his shirt. The action felt intimate somehow, and she finished quickly.
“Sorry. I thought I knocked them off outside.”
A little dust on the floor was the least of her concerns. “What’s the verdict?”
“Not what I’d hoped. Or expected.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sit down. Let’s talk a minute.” He motioned to the table.
They’d been talking for two hours, but she pulled out a chair and sat. He did the same. A knot formed in her belly. Something was wrong.
“I have bad news, Abby.” Brady pinched the top of his lip, drew in a deep breath and blew it out in a hearty gust. “Your house is not salvageable. I can’t do the remodel.”
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