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“Because I respect her.”
“That only gets you an extra plate at Thanksgiving and a prayer every Sunday.”
“Which obviously I will need if I’m going to continue on this righteous path of not maiming and killing you before Christmas.”
“Guys? You coming?” Taylor Jane yelled up from the second floor, and I followed her voice, wondering what she’d made for lunch. My lunch. Because I wasn’t letting Damien have any.
“One of us is,” Damien grumbled but stayed far enough behind me, climbing into the window so I couldn’t drop his ass twenty feet to the ground. If he wasn’t careful he’d have those wings before this project finished.
Climbing back into the house, we made our way downstairs to the picnic table currently situated in the living room and filled with a lunch spread of homemade food.
“I figured the crew had enough take-out this week, so I made some sandwiches from a roast turkey and all the fixings like Mom used to.” Taylor Jane held out a plate with thick bread and sliced turkey.
I already knew gravy, potatoes, and cranberry mayonnaise were slathered in between the layers. It was like a holiday in my mouth, except I preferred Taylor Jane as my present, but for now this would have to do.
“You sure know your way around the kitchen, TJ.”
Scowling, I watched Damien bite into a sandwich like a greedy jerk.
“Why, thank you, Damien. I’ve got more lemonade right here.” She turned to get him a glass and I shook my head at him.
I saw a wave of nuclear red when the asshole pointed at me.
“Kidney donor.” Whispering between muffled bites of food and wagging his finger at me, he had the audacity to remind me of the childhood pact we’d made to each other the summer I moved here. No matter what we would look after each other and give one another a kidney if we needed to. It was dumb and something kids said, but I had just lost both my parents, and Damien’s offer felt like the first olive branch my harsh upbringing had given me. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. Damien Hart was the closest thing to a brother I would ever have.
“Whatever.” It didn’t mean I had to share, though.
“Don’t look so grumpy, Hunter. I made you a separate batch to take home.” As soon as Taylor Jane turned around I stuck my tongue out at Damien, who was giving me the middle finger and mouthing something close to asshole.
“Aw, BAE, you saved a bouquet just for me?” Kristen joined us, adding extra napkins and plastic ware to our feast, referring to Damien’s protruding middle finger.
Taunting Kristen, Damien thumbed at her. “Who invited indigestion?”
“Me, so settle down and eat. I want to talk about changing the crown molding going up the staircase.” Taylor Jane said.
Everyone groaned hearing another one of Taylor Jane’s design ideas, and I mentally started calculating how much more this alteration was going to cost me.
It was luck and unfortunate circumstances I had some insurance money invested from the car accident and a damn good financial advisor who didn’t work for Paul Hammond’s bank.
20
Hunter
Everyone on the crew left the house for the day except Taylor Jane and me. I was sitting on the steps watching the sun set, thinking about how the following week was going to go. There was a hole several feet away that would need new wood and support beams underneath it. I picked up the shredded plank, wondering how many sets of feet trod over it the last hundred years before it finally gave way. I sincerely loved old houses even though they were a pain in the ass to renovate and upkeep. I looked at the yellow permit affixed to the window and the historical registration permit on blue paper right below it. I thought about the stories this old house could tell and the secrets kept in its foundation. Hopefully no shit demons remained. I made sure Damien had the septic pumped and the bottom floor was repaired and secure after that incident.
Lunch was over hours ago and cleaned up. Damien drove into Poughkeepsie to the supply house to exchange some toilet fixtures and order more piping. Hopefully, he was picking up holy water from his arch nemesis’ father’s church in town to drive away the bathroom spirits or anything else negative lingering in the house. Taylor Jane was fresh out of sage to burn to cleanse the energy in the air, or at least that was what she’d informed me. To be honest, it wasn’t sage. I didn’t know where she got her hands on a butt load of pot or how she got through college having no clue what that particular smell was baffled me. She claimed a nice guy outside the witchcraft store in town sold it to her for twenty bucks, but I was afraid that could mean anything. I’d assume ignorance; the holy water would work just fine. I heard Evian made a good brand bottled right at the source upstate from us.
Kristen got a call from her brother during lunch and left, something about needing her help to organize a fundraiser for the animal shelter. Naturally, I would have assumed she meant Damien, but no, these were real cats and dogs needing homes and pet supplies. Somehow she got a slick hundred dollars from me as a startup fee and asked me what my tuxedo size was currently. I wasn’t even going to ask.
Logan, the kid with the video camera, stepped out onto the porch earlier and went right through. He was okay, but he might have cried a few tears for the camera that got a bent frame when he went down. I sent him to the clinic with Matt, his co-film producer, so he could get checked out. He texted me five minutes ago that he was fine. Perfect. All I had to do was fix the hole. One more item on my list.
“Oh, hey. You’re still here. I was about to lock up.”
Half turned, I watched Taylor Jane pull the door to the house shut and lock it. Vandals weren’t a major concern, but I didn’t want to invite an insurance liability if I could manage it. “Yeah, I was waiting for you. Get everything?”
“Yes, my planner and the paint chips. I still can’t decide pink or teal in that bathroom, you know?”
Uh, and I prayed pink was the loser. At least teal had a shot of doing good things in the early morning light.
