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He didn’t finish the sentence.
Mike swallowed so hard, I thought something broke in his throat.
Mia tapped on the windows bordering the kitchen and we all swiveled to see the large table set and filled with steaming dishes. We’d been deep in discussion for several hours and hadn’t noticed her buzzing around behind us.
“That woman is an angel.” Mike grinned in spite of himself and Scott’s expression softened into something sweet as he watched his wife hurry back toward the stove.
“You have no idea, my friend.”
It was late evening by the time we finished eating, talking and finalizing plans, and the three of us road trained our way back to Watertown in the middle of a snow squall. Going was slow, thanks to near-whiteout conditions, and we splintered off in three different directions once we got off the interstate.
I pulled into the driveway just past two in the morning, not surprised to find the storm had already dumped four inches of powder, turning the pretty house with its twinkling strings of lights into a fairytale.
I chuckled as I climbed the steps, past three frostbitten pumpkins and a sheaf of corn. The tiny orange lights Kennedy had strung across the porch would be swapped out soon for Christmas lights, and the tree would be up and decorated in the large living room even before Thanksgiving.
“You check your phone lately?” Kennedy’s voice was accusatory when it drifted out from the kitchen, and I followed the sound to the back of the house where she sat at the counter with her laptop and a mug of coffee the size of a flower pot.
“Sorry.” I pulled the phone out of my back pocket. “Had it silenced all day because I was in meetings.”
“Yeah, well…” She clicked the lid of the laptop closed and turned to me, rubbing one tired eye. “It’s been snowing here since seven and I’ve been freaking the fuck out thinking you were stranded in a ditch somewhere.”
I leaned across and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks, Mama Kenny. I promise next time I’ll check in.”
Kennedy pushed at my shoulders and leaned back in her chair. “That’s what worries me, Mad. When you’re on the job I’m going to worry like a freaking mother hen and I’ll have no way to check on you.”
Kennedy knew mission protocol by heart, and she knew it meant I wouldn’t be in touch until I was on my way home.
“I’ll be fine.” I tried to reassure her though I didn’t like the unknown elements myself. “I’m sure I’ve been in far worse situations. I’ve had to parachute into combat zones and dive out of helicopters; I think I can handle this.”
“I don’t know whatthisis, Madelyn, and I know you can’t tell me. But you almost died after that dive in Greece; I don’t need to tell you what that would do to your brother. Or…” She let it trail off.
Since when was Kennedy the travel agent for guilt trips? That was my mother’s job.
There was one thing I knew I needed to nail down in the next couple weeks, if there was any hope of cutting the umbilical cord: It was time to find my own place.
I went a little crazy over the next few weeks. I called a real estate agent and gave her a list of twenty-seven houses I wanted to see in the area. While the rest of the country was experiencing a real estate shortage, it seemed I had my pick. Our town was slowly losing a large percentage of its older people to Florida, and the fact I could walk in and put down a cash offer with no contingencies left me in a pretty good spot.
In two weeks I saw all twenty-seven, and I saved the best for last. I was a weirdo like that, the person who liked to set her dessert next to the dinner plate so I could anticipate it for the duration of the meal.
The house I’d wanted since I was a kid was set a little way outside of town, on State Route 12. It was bigger than what I needed, at almost 3,000 square feet, and the mid-century design was unusual for the area.
What sold me on the property, and always had, were the walls of thick-paned windows and the fact the home was set back on a ten-acre lot. If I wanted animals, I could have them. If I wanted a garden, I would never run out of room.
The home hadn’t seen a renovation since the eighties and what had been done wasn’t good, but I would have time eventually. Scott had a large staff and was adamant about work/life balance, which was unheard of in the security industry. As a result, I knew I would have stretches of time at home and if I was going to be home, I needed projects. Because if I didn’t have projects, I feared what would become of me.
Chances were good I’d find a lot more reasons to hang out with Adam, which was clearly the last thing he needed.
“I’ll take it,” I said quietly as I stood in the sad kitchen with my realtor. Everything was an aged blonde oak, the linoleum floor peeling up, the formica countertops older than me, stained and chipped. “I would imagine we can close pretty quickly since it’s already empty?”
“Owners moved to Florida last winter and it’s been sitting here since,” the agent said and I heaved a deep breath. I had my work cut out for me. “If you’re making a cash offer I think we could have this done in days, depending upon how hard they want to fight you on the price.”
They were asking just under a hundred thousand dollars, which was on the higher end considering the condition of the house.
“Eighty-three in cash, closing this week,” I said firmly. “I’m leaving for work just after Thanksgiving and I’d like to have this matter settled.”
“Reasonable enough,” she said, looking around again like something was going to jump out of the cabinets. “You’ll have a lot of work to do in here but if you can pull it off, even with renovations you’ll have gotten a steal.”
That was the whole point.
