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I’m not sure why he’s talking to me about something he’s only discussed with his wife, but I keep my face an impasse of emotion as I say, “All right.”
“You know the house on Falls Drive that’s been sitting empty for about six or so years? It used to belong to Marie Smith. Then she died and no family was located, so it was turned over to the bank.”
The question catches me off guard—somehow my mind imagined he was going to bring up something regarding my job, probably because that’s what the mayor and I generally talk about—so I’m grateful I have a moment to collect myself when Ember brings my order over. She talks to Leo for a couple minutes as I prepare my cinnamon roll and my thoughts.
I do know the house he’s talking about because I had Mrs. Smith call me several times when she thought her neighbors were trying to steal things from her garden shed. In reality it was a cat getting in and knocking things over, not the perfectly nice family living next door. I can’t say I ever enjoyed her crotchety old personality when I was forced to interact with her, but yes, I do know the house. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a view that costs more than A) the house itself, and B) what I’ll probably ever have in my bank accounts.
“I thought they’d just tear it down since it’s probably not in all that great of condition,” Leo continues once Ember returns to her place behind the counter. “But I’ve been thinking that it’d be a shame to put the money into demolishing it when we could just take that money and use it for renovations, then resell it.”
I still don’t have a clue where I fit into this, but I try to pretend I do. “Yeah, that would probably be a good idea if it’s not too rotted out.”
“Well, from the curb it still looks decent enough.” He states this as if he knew I’d say what I did. “This next part is where you’ll come in.”
He’sassumingI’ll be a part of whatever he’s yet to say, for the record. I’ve only said I know the place and that it might work to use demo money to renovate instead. Nothing more, nothing less.
Unfortunately, when the mayor’s mind gets ahold of an idea, it’s a challenge to talk him out of it, so he does have that going for him.
He pulls a sheet of paper out of his manila folder and slides it across table. “I know how active your job keeps you, I do. But I was thinking that it might be a nice project for a few kids while they’re on summer break. We both know the time off isn’t always a good thing for all teens.”
I agree, but I’m not sure I like the direction this conversation is heading. I have a funny feeling he’s going to recommend thatIassist these kids he speaks of, and I don’t like it. Because when it comes to the teens he’s referring to—the ones who don’t have a good home life, who virtually have themselves to rely on, who are rough around the edges because of the crap life has thrown at them—I struggle to say no. Like I said, the mayor knowsexactlywhat he’s doing, and man, does he do it well.
“You wouldn’t be using any money out of your own pocket for the renovations, and I’m sure we could work it out so you receive a percentage off the eventual sale if you want, but it would require your time. Something that’s very valuable, I know.” Leo must’ve ordered something when he was talking to Ember, because the other barista—I think her name is Sydney—brings a mug of black coffee and two creamer pods over to the table. “I did think about asking Wynn and Marshall, but they’ve got multiple houses going up right now and Marshall and Jess are going to have a baby, so I’m not sure I want to add more to their plates. Plus…well, having a law enforcement official be the head of the project might be a wise move.”
While the planner in me loves that he has everything so thought out, it also annoys me that he has his ducks in such a neat row. “And is there a timeline for this project?”
I didn’t approve saying something that makes me seem interested, but clearly my brain doesn’t need or want my consent before speaking.
“Not really, no. As I said, I’ve only discussed the idea with my wife. And now you. I don’t know if the bank will go for it, but I wanted to have your yes or no before I go to them.”
While that makes it sound likenois an option, I doubt it really is. Especially because, ever since he mentioned the teens, my subconscious started crafting a list of possibilities. School only got out a couple weeks ago, so there hasn’t been much trouble so far, but I’ve been a cop for twelve years. I know what’ll happen as the days get longer, the nights get shorter, and minds start to wander.
That said, I’m not an impulsive person. I have quick reflexes that allow me to make snap decisions when a situation requires it of me, but this is a decision that I think I need to think over before committing.
“Tell you what, Mayor,” I say, maintaining eye contact with him. “I’ll think it over and have my answer to you by five tomorrow. That work?”
His eyes light up as if I just yelledYESat the top of my lungs—something I can’t fathom doing, even in the comfort of my own home—and he nods, holding his hand out across the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal, son.”
Chapter Five
Jenna
Saturdays are one of my favorite days of the week, especially ones like today, because I’m free to spend the whole day with my kids. It’s also house cleaning and grocery shopping day, but because I’ve made those out to be enjoyable tasks rather than mundane chores, even Ella and Eli look forward to dusting and filling our grocery cart with all kinds of (un)necessary foods.
We started this particular Saturday off with pancakes, just like usual. While I cleaned up the kitchen, Ella played with her doll house and Eli his toy cars, and then we moved onto cleaning. I know how young the kids are, so I only give them easy tasks, but here’s what I’ve learned so far: small things like emptying the trash cans and flushing the toilets after I’ve scrubbed them gives me time to do the bigger tasks, and we end our cleaning session on a high note. I think it helps that we blast happy music from the speaker in the kitchen and the house is only 1,500 square feet, but it’s still a responsibility.
Following that we filled our bellies again with Cheez-Its before we piled into the vehicle to go to Falls Market. Every other Saturday there’s a farmers market downtown, but this was the off week, so our trip was condensed to only the grocery store and Dollar General. We had sandwiches for lunch, and now that our chores are done, I’m filling the kiddie pool that came home with us from DG. Eli wanted the blue one and Ella wanted the pink one—they’re excellent kids, but don’t be fooled; we still have attitudes every once in a while—so I broke the tie by purchasing the yellow one with orange and pink fish swimming around on its surface.
What they didn’t realize is that I’m the one who got my way, not just broke a tie, because my favorite color is yellow. What fun is motherhood if you can’t make more interesting decisions than how much to budget for groceries every week? I personally believe that we have to romanticize our lives a little. You’ve only got one mug to drink out of every morning? Thank the good Lord for that mug and pretend it’s that adorable yellow one (or insert your favorite color) you saw at Target. I can almost guarantee the imaginary mug will appear in your life at some point, whether because someone gives it to you or because your diligence provided a little extra money to purchase it yourself. They call that the Law of Attraction, and that law is the reason I’m repeatingAllenin my head like a mantra.
You want to know how well it’s working?
It’s working so well my phone vibrates in the pocket of my denim shorts, and I shift the hose to my left hand to pull it out and see the nameSethon the screen. Time is the big kicker here, for those of you wondering if I’ve gone totally nuts. One day, I’m sure the name will be Allen and we’ll be happy in our perfectly comfortable relationship. So happy I won’t feel these flutters like I do right now. It’s all in the baby steps, people. For instance, instead of thinkingSethright away when I woke up this morning, I thought of pancakes. It might have to do with the fact that Ella and Eli came running into my room shoutingpancakesat the top of their lungs, but hey, it’s something.
Remember this: practice makes progress.
“Mommy, don’t fill it too full.” Ella’s voice breaks into my internal motivational speech, and she comes to stand beside me, hands on her tiny little swimsuit-clad hips. She chose her two piece today, and its background is blue with tiny little watermelon slices, bananas, and pineapples dotting it. Sometimes I wish they made grown female swimsuits like little girl ones. Of course, Ella’s tummy sticks out in an endearing way. I’m small, but I don’t eat Brazil nuts for every meal to prevent from having a slight donut of a belly, so maybe I’ll stick to my high-waisted jeans and swimsuit bottoms. “Then all the water will splash out and it’ll just be a waste.”
Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good. “How full do you want it, then?”
