“Name our price,” Joel answers from the kitchen, where he’s sitting on a counter with a mug of coffee. “The best kind of offer we could have had.”
I walk over to the coffee machine and pour myself a cup. “I haven’t finished all the rooms.” After a quick detour to the refrigerator for a splash of cream, I sit at the dining table with Win. Since he’ll likely get a coffee from the diner when he starts work and he’s never needed caffeine to perk himself up in the mornings, he doesn’t pour himself one.
My pace of renovating this house is positively glacial at this point. We have all been more concerned with spending time with Rose, Ben, and each other than decorating. The few occasions I pick up tools are to work on the surprise for Rose with Ben.
The spare bedroom is done, at least. I don’t even want to imagine what the attic, our longstanding dumping ground, lookslike, given that I haven’t been up there in a couple of months and I haven’t started on the dining room.
If I’d been this slow at work, I’d have lost my job months ago. There’s no excuse for not having finished the work already. Except there is. A big one. This is home, the best I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to let it go.
“The guy swung by the firehouse a couple of days ago. He's been waiting for a house like this to come on the market for a while, and when he heard we were looking to sell, he jumped at it.” Joel takes a sip from his mug.
I frown. “Why didn’t you mention it before?”
He makes a face. “I was hoping he wasn’t serious. But he swung by again when I didn’t get back to him to remind me that his offer still stands.”
“Oh?” I take a sip of coffee. It’s good. Win must have made it. Joel’s version could strip paint off the walls; it’s that strong.
Joel hesitates. “I’ve started having doubts about selling. Uh… if I’m being honest, I’ve had those doubts for a while now. A long, long while.”
I study him over the rim of my mug, hiding feelings which mirror his. “This house is too expensive. We can’t afford it.”
“I know that,” Joel says.
“But?” Win asks.
“It feels like home.” Joel leans his head against a cupboard as he breathes four words none of us have said out loud.
None of us has a response to that. But no one is shaking their heads in denial. No one is rushing to fill the silence.
As usual, I try to be practical about things. “This house comes with a mortgage none of us can afford past the end of this year. The offer is a good one. The smart thing to do would be to take it.”
Win clears his throat. “I could pick up more hours at the diner.”
I snort. “You could own the diner, and itstillwouldn’t pay enough.”
“I could get a part-time job somewhere,” Joel suggests.
“One that fits in with your sometimes odd hours at the firehouse would be impossible to find. We have to sell to that guy or risk foreclosing on the house and having it taken away.” I say.
Something catches my eye, drawing my attention to the empty kitchen doorway. I set my mug down and go to investigate, but there's no sign of anyone in the entryway.
“What is it?” Win asks.
Shrugging off the sense that someone was at the doorway listening, I return to the dining table. “Nothing.”
I was just imagining things.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go to work?” Joel asks me.
“Yeah.” I take a sip from my mug, set it down on the table, and stare at it. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Joel and Win sharing a glance.
“So…” Joel drawls.
I draw in a deep breath, release it in a soft exhale, and sit back in my chair. The wood creaks beneath me as I cross my arms and lift my face toward the ceiling. “I slept with Rose last night.”
Win snorts. “Thought so, given your clothes from yesterday and your unzipped fly.”
“Shit. Do you think Ben saw?” I leap to my feet, nearly knocking over my mug as I frantically peer between my legs.
